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Introduction:

Death Note fanfic. In the days before the fateful Yellow Box meeting, Near is caught in a moment of detrimental contemplation, before discovering through Gevanni that happy resolution is close at hand- and how badly he needed it. GevannixNear
A gift for one of my fans.
Yaoi; hard lemon; GevannixNear Obligatory: I do not own Death Note. (Lessons included for the observant: How to kiss, read tarot, a bit of body language, and a few lessons in attraction). Reviews are always appreciated, thank you~
A/N: And please people. This is what I actually got with the tarot cards. No more 'advice' on what I "should have put" in the reading. It's what really got drawn.
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Near spread his body out on the floor, the tiling’s cool surface chilling him slightly through his cotton top. Surrounding him were the scattered pieces of a blank puzzle he had casually pushed aside and a ring of tarot cards in which he carelessly rolled about in the center of. Rolling onto his side, he rested his plump cheek on his palm and gazed at the downturned surfaces of the cards.

Numbly reaching forward, Near’s fingers gripped the edge of a card and flipped it over. It made a sharp noise as it cut through the cool air, and he raised its surface towards his face. He had drawn the Wheel of Fortune. Major Arcana, Card Ten. Divination: A cycle ends in your life and an initiation period arrives, bringing good fortune. You are faced with a dilemma of choosing the right course that could take you higher on the wheel or let you fall. Obstacles that threaten your plans will only last a short time. Magical Uses: Use in spells or meditations for changing your luck.

Near’s dark eyes wandered away from the colored surface of the grimacing harlequin on the card. He stared into empty space and his hand lowered slightly as his mind wandered in absent thought. His eyes snapped back to the card and he put his hand over another card, sweeping it along the ring so that all the cards were quickly piled upon one another into a lopsided deck, which he straightened.

His light hands shuffled the deck in a languid manner, dark eyes contemplating the shadowy white blur that was his reflection on the tiled floor. He really would need to cover that with his Lego flooring. Maybe make a fortress, or battlement. Perhaps he could replicate an actual fort… Not that any of the remaining SPK would be able to recognize it or think of it as anything more than the fanciful child-like way their leader went about keeping his hands busy while he thought. If they even thought that much of it.

A low heaviness sat in Near’s chest. He needed them, he needed their care and encouragement to keep himself running, but sometimes he felt as though something was inadequate - Something beyond their inability to truly appreciate some quality of his or another, or their inability to even shadow his intellect.
It was exhausting. Near put the deck down, hugging himself. He quietly contemplated the top of the deck. His belly squeezed. He felt so very isolated, even with Rester’s adequate but awkward care and the dedicated loyalty of Linder and Gevanni?

Near knew that many persons of superior intellect, or even simple brilliance often did not mesh well with their peers - often with those even higher than their peers. Some actually chose separation out of frustration or arrogance, and some simply never bothered to seek it. Near sighed. Still, it would have been pleasant to have some sort of connection – a lifeline, a home base.

Suddenly, a door slid open. Near instantaneously roused himself out of his dull, emotional mindset into his state of business, readjusting his vaguely sad face into the calm, unperturbed expression of a leader and genius; eyebrows firm but raised, eyes downcast at his activities, mouth minutely downturned in apparent occupation.

The person who interrupted his unhealthy emotional brooding of his life’s state entered the room, shoes sounding against the tiles with dulled taps. Men’s. Oxfords. Steps of moderate-light force, medium-long gait. That would be Gevanni. Near picked up the deck of cards and began to redeal them out into their former position in a ring around himself. Light cologne, a faint woody scent. A wise decision for attracting women - woodsy smells possessed higher probability to receive positive responses from the fairer sex.

The man halted his footsteps a respectful distance from the boy who lay sprawled on the floor. With a pole-straight posture, his slate-colored eyes absorbed the familiar pale vision before him; a white halo of downy curled hair framed the cheekbones and a set of eyes that were rendered striking pebbles of obsidian by their albescent surroundings. Skin pale by the standards of most men was cast into an illusion of a darker hue by the snowy locks and the resonating white cotton of the boy’s casual garments.

Gevanni was himself lean, dark, and gifted in his art of shadowing. The man was all but invisible when he stalked behind his targets, and his image was simple in its composition and often difficult to remember, even after he had just shortly been seen. It was even easier to confusedly blend his face with that of another.

“Yes, Gevanni?”

Near heard the faintest rub of cloth as the lean man shifted his center of gravity to his right side. A sign of apprehension. His level voice however, the boy noted, bore no evidence of such discomfort. Good. Gevanni had a valuable talent for maintaining his professionalism. “Near, I wanted to ask you-”

But then his voice stiffened with the slightest choppiness. “- about the upcoming events.” Out of the corner of his eye, Near observed Gevanni stiffen almost imperceptibly, drawing himself up. It was subtly apparent the man was uncertain if his question was out of place, and of course doubted he would receive a straightforward answer to his inquiry. The pale youth would shoo away the questions of the United States’ president if he regarded them as unnecessary or inconvenient to his purposes - and even the president would fall silent and chastised. Such was Near’s way.

The slightest bit of boredom in the boy’s voice. “Yes, Gevanni?”

Half a moment’s pause. “I wanted to know what you have planned for the meeting in the Yellow Box warehouse.” That wasn’t a question. It was almost an entreatment. Near’s finger was tracing the edge of a card. He lay down from his sit onto his belly with the suited man to his right. Really, they made it too easy for him to deflect their “questions.” Everyone was too nervous to actually ask. They just expressed their worry, almost inviting reassurance more than an answer.

His clear, boyish voice was amplified slightly by the hard, cold edges of the room. “You needn’t be concerned. If I thought it would help for you or the others to know my plan, I would have already told you. As it is, I think it better that you don’t know.” He rolled from his belly onto his right side propping himself on his elbow, his back to the man. A card found its way into his fingers and sat suspended by his hand in the air. The boy stared at the back of the card with dull intensity. “Rest assured, however. No one will die tomorrow; and Kira will be ours.” The card resumed its former position in the circular row, face down, and figure unseen. The boy swept the cards up again into a deck and dealed them out into another, wider ring around his body.

Lowering his head a few degrees, a noise of acknowledgement emanated from Gevanni’s throat. “I can’t help but be concerned.”

Lightly testy. “I understand, but you needn’t worry.” His voice stopped quite abruptly, not permitting further thought or voice on the current line of conversation. It was almost a dismissal.

Gevanni awkwardly cleared his throat and adjusted his tie back and forth. Suddenly the man realized his position. “I’m sorry Near, did I interrupt?” Of course he had, and he knew it. He had brusquely entered when his leader was most likely deep in planning, needlessly intruding with his doubts and questions. That was exactly what he had done. The knowledge did nothing to help his mounting embarrassment.

A momentary pause in his dealing. The pale youth’s eyes misted over as he recalled the internal self-pitying emotional ramblings of his from only mere moments ago that might have gone on indefinitely if it hadn’t been for Gevanni’s fateful interruption. His hands resumed their task. His lips parted to shape his quiet response “…No.”

The response surprised Gevanni. Searching for a way to reduce the awkward uncertainty in the room, his slate-colored eyes wandered to the cards Near had dealt. Attempting to create a sense of friendliness and ease the floundering encounter, his face moved into a smile. “Would you give me a reading, Near?”

The boy’s dark eyes snapped over to look at him out of their corners, but his hands didn’t stop playing with the tarot cards. Neutrally, he said “What would you like me to ask?”

Gevanni shrugged. “How about you just tell my fortune?”

“Tarot doesn’t work that way. It doesn’t tell past or future, like crystal balls. They give advice and recommendations.” he said. “Instead of asking something like, ‘Will I be rich by next summer?’ you would ask ‘How can I become rich by next summer?”

He continued: “You can also ask about people or for just general advice. If you want I can just give you a general reading.”

“Alright.” the man nodded. Near gathered the cards into a haphazard deck and shuffled them. Holding the randomized deck in his hand, Near ran his finger along the outside of the deck, picking out cards with seemingly great care at odd intervals. He laid them out face down on the ground before him, placing the first as a centerpiece and surrounding it with five cards at positions 2:30, 4:30, 7:30, 9:30, and 12 o’ clock.
He then quickly flipped all of the cards over, revealing their images. Their order was:

Knight of Pentacles
Nine of Cups Knight of Swords
The Lovers
Knight of Cups Three of Pentacles

Near absorbed each card and looked up at Gevanni. “The center card is the main answer to one’s question, the surrounding cards further define the answer. If you like, we could translate them together…” Gevanni nodded again.

The pale youth pointed to center card. The Lovers. Major Arcana. Card Six. A new love may enter your life unexpectedly. Your heart often rules your head. However, this time it may be worth the risk. Be aware that your decision may not set well with others. Take care with your choice, for it will affect you for a long time.

Knight of Swords. Minor Arcana. You may need to think quickly and clearly in order to make timely decisions, but avoid making mistakes through misinterpreting information.

Three of Pentacles. Minor Arcana. Opportunities will soon present themselves for you to learn new skills.

Knight of Cups. Minor Arcana. If this card represents situations, a message of love or proposal may be coming your way. You may be so deeply involved with someone that you do not see clearly.

Nine of Cups. Minor Arcana. Fulfillment of your wishes and desires. Success, hope, and triumph.

Finally: Knight of Pentacles. Minor Arcana. This card may represent a new experience. A new talent, art, or creative ability is awakening.

Near looked up at him again. “A Major Arcana card in the center means that your question or what the cards advise is supposed to be especially important.”

“Both the Knight of Swords and the Knight of Cups talk about clarity, specifically that you should work on seeing things more clearly. The Lovers-” he pointed to the center card again. “-also indicate that your ‘heart often rules your head’.”

The boy straightened himself up. These two-” He pointed to the Three of Pentacles and Knight of Pentacles “-would seem to indicate that doing so would give you new skills and abilities.”

The boy turned to the final card, the Nine of Cups. “I’ve never gotten this card before. It’s supposed to be a ‘wish card’ that one can use around other cards to symbolize your desires.”

Near leaned back onto his posterior. “Overall, I think it means that you are advised to work on improving your mental clarity because that will cause you to develop a new skill set; these skills - or the self-improvement you gain by seeking - them is what you want, or at least the means to obtain what you want.”

Gevanni couldn’t help but read another overtone in the cards. A decisively romantic one. It came most definitively from the centerpiece Lovers, the Knight of Pentacles, and the Nine of Cups with their talk of love and fulfillment of desire. As for the other two, love could easily be interpreted as a new… Experience. Its practice and manifestations were certainly a skill worthy of note. His reading was nearly eerie. It was also… Provocative.

He looked over the white, doll-like boy, guilt slithering in his belly. The boy was so business-like, either naively oblivious or deliberately ignoring what seemed to be such a blatant message. The boy could be so very… Endearing. Another surge of guilt.

He would not permit himself to indulge in such potentially detrimental and unprofessional lines of thought. He immediately sought to smother them and toss them away.

Looking at the cards again, Gevanni verbally consented his general agreement to Near’s interpretation, and watched Near return them to the deck. He told the boy that the cards reminded him of when he was a boy, competing with his siblings in a friendly rivalry, his parents encouraging him to be intelligent and versatile. A nostalgic rambling memory of family and closeness all loosely coated with false merriment. Load of bullshit. Really, just anything to distract him.

His “audience” meanwhile, was patiently looking down at the deck he shuffled in his hands, mouth firm and quiet. Waiting for him to finish. Really, Gevanni had no reason to be here; to take up Near’s time. He really should just leave. The pale youth was too polite and reserved to tell him so. Too polite to really do anything but patiently wait until the suited man finished, when he would say a nice phrase, Gevanni would thank him, and then hopefully they would be done.

But Gevanni cut off, still holding an artificial levity. His eyes caught the boy’s and asked:

“How about you?”

Near paused. “…No. Nothing like that. I grew up in an orphanage, under training to be ‘the next L.’ Then I was recruited by the government to solve the Kira case.

Refusing to allow the situation to become awkward again, Gevanni dropped his levity, but would not fall into silence and let embarrassment take root – even though it practically screamed to do so now.

“Didn’t you bond with your peers?”

A wry smile. “What peers? I’ve always been... More advanced than the children in my age group, and never been compelled to seek their company.

“…And the kids that were older than you?”

Chest moving minutely out, a single shoulder lifted and his head tilted back towards it. His obsidian eyes were locked onto him. “I was always too small. I always appeared too childish. Really, they were no different from the younger children – just bigger. Still the same though.”

“I am perfectly accustomed to being alone.”

Gevanni blinked. “That’s not the healthiest way to live. Didn’t it ever get to you?”

Near tilted his head back forwards, inclining down towards his chest. “While you’re in here making judgments off of highly personal questions, would you like to pull up a chair and take notes?”

Gevanni stiffened. “I-I’m sorry Near…” The pale youth turned away from him and began to redeal the cards. Returning his attention to the deck of cards, the said “Will there be anything else, Gevanni?”

The man was silent. His guilty thoughts prickled their way back into the recesses of his mind, and he stared with a feeling of loss at Near’s back.

He had to say something. Just say something.

“Near.” Formal, masculine.

No answer. Not anger. Just waiting for him to speak and be done with it.

“Near…” He started again. “I’m sorry, but I figure I may as well let you know before I leave that I do appreciate you… You as in YOU. Even though I don’t always understand everything.”

The boy paused his redealing. His voice was reserved. “Thank you Gevanni.”

The man’s brow crinkled. Not enough. He walked forward towards the boy, coming up just beside and behind him. He bent down and reached out, his hand loose. The joint of his finger brushed Near’s side, and said gently:

“No, I meant it.”

Near looked up and back at the man. His slate eyes were soft and almost intimate.

Tickling warmth spread from where the man had brushed against him, resonating through him with a warm presence of sincerity. Gevanni lowered his body, sitting next to him in his tarot circle, not touching, but close, and seeming perfectly comfortable.

Near looked sideways at the man. Gevanni’s arms were supporting his back, one leg tucked in and the other laying out flat against the ground. Typical signs of relaxation and openness. He turned his head to look fully at him. Gevanni turned his head towards him and then back in unintrusive acknowledgment. Eyes peering sideways at him, Near looked straight again.

The boy then began to lean his body slightly onto Gevanni’s arm. Just a bit. Only the arm. The man didn’t move or give any sign of disapproval. Near settled his weight a little more onto the man. Turning his head slightly towards him, mouth softly smiling, Gevanni then gently began to lean back towards him. Near stayed rigid against the yielding flesh of the older man. Slowly, he relaxed a little more. His body unconsciously relaxed itself further, his neck drooping slightly towards the man. Then, Gevanni relaxed his neck. Their heads lightly touched one another.

With hardly a remnant of awkwardness, Gevanni’s arm slowly moved until it wrapped around the boy. He nuzzled against the boy’s head. Near’s eyes were wide and his breath caught. The man held still, allowing Near to adjust to the new tenderness.

Near’s breathing returned to normal, his body relaxing. Sprouting from this foreign affection was the acute awareness of enjoyment, and he pleasedly found himself turning pliant towards the older male and his comforting, foreign gestures. It felt… Very good.

The man turned and his nostrils absorbed Gevanni’s woody scent as the arm brought him closer, causing his face to be pressed into the fabric covering the man’s chest. The boy’s small, white hands lay curled on the chest his cheek rested upon, fingers finding purchase in the smooth fabric.

Near was wrapped in a full embrace against the other’s body, the man’s first arm and its twin encompassing his small frame like a tailored set of black wings. A strong hand tempered by gentleness caressed the back of Near’s head, massaging it and curling through the white halo of hair with powerfully soothing affection.

Drunken on touch and smell, the boy’s body grew heavy as he slowly seemed to lose his mastery of it. His breathing entered and expelled in slow, oceanic movements. Through the haze of happiness tranquility Near felt his head being inclined back so that his face was raised towards the heavens, as well as the cool eyes of his new font of peace. The man’s face seemed to grow until the petite boy felt the softest feathery brush on his lips that he soon found slowly swelling almost suffocatingly against the whole of his mouth into a full, deep kiss.

The heat that emanated from the mouth enveloping him was overwhelming, flushing his face and body, causing his lips to burn and quiver. The boy’s jaw opened to pant out harshly against its larger counterpart, which waited patiently for him as he inhaled deep breaths of merciful, cool air. Then it descended upon him again, carefully but firmly enclosing his mouth inside its warm, languid boundaries.

A warm, lightly textured alien muscle caressed the sensitive flesh about his lips, slowly massaging its way around his mouth in fine, unobtrusive tracings. Near felt an eased, wonderful smile rise to his face, and the muscle delicately tracked this new pattern as well, while its owner’s face also mirrored itself into a serene smile.

Near’s mouth slowly opened in mimicry of the greater, tender crevice encompassing him, its corners finding themselves seemingly irrevocably turning up in the pleasing shape of joy. The man’s muscle swirled quickly around his lips again, before dipping inside to taste the reverse side of the succulent, plump morsels that it had carefully explored and mapped.

The muscle greedily tasted the sleek texture above the rows of hard, textured white barriers, stretching the lips comfortably as it moved slowly across the rough U shape of the boy’s jaw. Down the inside of the boy’s cheek, its actions were mirrored along the bottom, tickling every nerve with its miniscule buds and sending the distinct sensation unique to this intimate action through the boy’s jaw.

The muscle massaged the ruddy inside of the plump, flushed cheeks before tracing the gap between the white rows of sentinels. Flicking across the center, the tongue pushed its way thickly to meet the petite clone of this appendage. They touched, and then the muscle drew back, then carefully placing its tip to taste the smoothed crowns of the ivory teeth, seeming to observe the unique irregularities of every single individual.

They boy’s lids weighed down with leaden exaltation as the muscle finally met his own, nursing him with a think, living wine that coated the muscle’s girth. Near suckled greedily at the sweet juices, eagerly exchanging his own with the mouth above him.

The muscle withdrew from his mouth, causing his face to crinkle in a frown and a whining groan of protest to pass through his lips. He looked up at the face of the man before him and licked his lips, eye entreating.

Gevanni resisted the effort to claim the mouth of the youth again, though his compassion nearly made him crack under the strain. Instead he leaned down to kiss the petal flesh of the boy’s neck. Stopping at the hem of the boy’s shirt, he returned to the boy’s cheeks, lighting kisses of admiration on them.

He then reached down for his own jacket. A rough sound of clothing being removed from a human body, and the jacket was tossed in casual laziness off to the side. He gently gripped the sweet boy again and kissed him with soft adoration on the lips, the pale face, and the smooth chin. There was no haste, no urgency. Intimacy in its most uncorrupted form alchemized into passion. The two not entirely sure what will be done, only that they mean to do it.

Slits of skin unknowingly exposed were caressed where they peeked out from under the rims of garments. Full, clean canvases of skin were found revealed to cool air as clothes were pulled and slipped, vanishing from bodies. Gevanni’s muscles stretched under his own white expanse, though his color could not compare to the angelic albescence of the excruciatingly soft creature that pressed his smoothly rounded form to his own hard body.

Gevanni gently presses his fingers onto Near’s belly, Near’s thigh, the soft boy who blushes demurely at the attentions. The man’s belly now curled with lust so intense to be just short of painful, delving further and further into urges deep and male and savage, drinking in the intoxicating concoction of their combined ardor, erection stretched and raised itself against his abdomen.

Suddenly its tip pressed against the closed expanse of flesh between Near’s sack and his entrance. He pulled back from the kiss. His hand skimmed up towards the boy’s face. Diverting for a moment to feel those perfect, rounded cheeks, Gevanni then pressed two of his fingers against Near’s faintly parted lips. The boy kissed the pads with craving, and took the first segment of his fingers in.

The boy’s mouth was so small. He gently urged his fingers in, careful to cause no discomfort, until his fingers were taken in to the middle knuckle. The boy’s passive tongue coated the long fingers with the succulent moisture, eyes drooping downwards as he slowly moved his head around them.

Gevanni nudged his thigh forward, slipping it between the boy’s. Near’s hips stuttered forward as a shock reverberated from his groin straight to his brain, and he gasped around the slickened fingers placed in his mouth.

The man removed his fingers quickly so that the petite boy wouldn’t gag. Near rolled his head back and bit his teeth onto his flushed lips. With one hand, Gevanni stroked the boy’s hip. His other hand slipped down and into the boy’s crevasse. His finger found what it had been searching for.

Gevanni shifted forward, pressing their lips together again, praying the boy would feel as little pain as possible. Distracting him with his questing tongue, fingers pressed and stretched inside of tight, clenching walls. The hand on Near’s hip moved inward, over the thigh’s mound and grasped his shaft, stroking slowly upwards. He swallowed down the boy’s whimpers, kissing, stroking, and stretching. Trying to be as gentle as possible, distract him from the pain.

Locking eyes, Gevanni slowly eased his constricted fingers out. The boy’s muscles squeezed and followed his movement out. Inevitably, his fingers had the slightest coating of coppery-scented crimson. His tongue ran around the inside of his mouth, collecting saliva to use for easier passage, when Near clumsily dipped forward and ran his tongue up the underside of his shaft. A deep groan of surprise and pleasure reverberated out of the man as Near drew parts of him into his mouth, tilting his head to find the easiest angle to cover his member with the saliva he was lathing onto him.

The consuming feeling was wet and hot, and Gevanni found it impossible but to luxuriate in it, his breath panting unevenly. Quickly grabbing back the pieces of his composure before he could already be put to his end, Gevanni touched the boy’s shoulders and guided him back up.

Near followed up willingly, their mouths joining together. Gevanni carefully guided his cock to nudge against the boy’s entrance. He moved slowly, filling him little by little, careful to cause as little harm as possible to the sweet boy that was trying suppress unwanted tears.

He finally sat inside him, filling the hot, stretched cavern. Gevanni felt Near’s walls shudder in around his girth in pained, twisted enjoyment. The temptation to continue was roaring in the man’s ears, but he patiently stilled himself. He paused, trying to let Near adjust to his intrusion. Slowly, the clenching walls began to relax around him. Gevanni carefully began to rock his hips back in forth inside the boy.

Gevanni then drew himself out and pressed himself into Near, over and over again as he set a long, slow pace. His hands gripped Near’s sides, head bowing in concentration.

Near’s fingers twisted over themselves, mewling at the sensation. It was maddening. Every time the man slid into him, he massaged along the boy’s prostate, making him tearily see white as he swore each time that this would be the one that ended him. But every time, he left again, leaving him panting and whimpering for his return. Near heard him growl then, low in his throat. Could it be as agonizing for Gevanni as this was for him?

Gevanni decided that really, that was enough. His hips bucked to meet the boy, the impact shuddering through Near’s body. He pressed his hips to meet Gevanni, pushing him deeper and harder against him. The heat from flush and friction was spreading up into his abdomen and down his legs.

“Haaah… Haaaaahh…” He thought he heard himself crying out and mewling happily, but he couldn’t be sure. He was blind and deaf to everything but the immediate focus on his ecstasy the hands, the touching, and the burning.

Gevanni reached between them, circling his hand around Near’s member, dragging on it slowly, countering the speeded movements of his hips. It forced him to change the angle of his thrusts, and the next few sunk into the boy in short, choppy bursts until he found an angle that made Near gasp and go rigid in surprise.

Out of his petite lips came the panting cries of “Yes, yes,” his face flushed over and his pupils dilating so heavily that they almost completely concealed his swarthy irises. Gevanni leaned in and kissed him hard just as the boy keened, long and swelling, and came across Gevanni’s stomach in violent spurts. His climax claimed his entire being, his body thrashing and tensing while his mind exploded in the ecstatic extreme of emptiness. Shuddering, his body then grew limp and boneless, twitching erratically as the final vestiges of bliss surged through his frame.

Midway, Gevanni had helplessly moaned in lusty abandon, his breath coming in uneven heaves. The pressure inside him built continuously and continuously until completion was an inevitable, welcome necessity. Thick with erotic delirium, he choked on his cry, buried himself deep within the boy, and came.

They sat; hot and sticky, gulping in lungfuls of air, Gingerly, Gevanni removed himself from the boy’s core. They held each other closely, reveling in the warm bond they had solidified. Near leaned towards Gevanni’s face, lips shaping a chaste kiss.

There were many ways of expressing appreciation, but the true beauty of it came when the feeling was mutual. Perhaps that’s what started the beginnings of love.
1 comments

anonymous readerReport

2011-09-14 02:50:14
I am not familiar with the source: Death Note(?), but I must say, this story is an eminently beautiful work of art. Flawless! I applaud you.
Please, do write more. I am awed and eagerly await your next masterpiece.

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