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The light was fading, daylight melting into dusk’s embrace. Mikami squinted at his desk, one pale hand reaching up to rub his face, trail it’s way through his tangled locks of hair, readjust his glasses as he wrote, endless names scrawling out in an endless block. He was exhausted- but Kira’s duty must be carried out. With every pen stroke, he felt joy trickle though him, rapture tinged with disbelief- Kira had chose him, Kira trusted him, Kira thought he was worthy, out of all of the people-
He was getting too excited again. He needed to concentrate.
It had only been a month since Kira revealed herself to him. The figure standing in the hotel doorway, illuminated by the hallway lights that poured glittering gold into the darkened room, had appeared to him almost like an Angel. A god.
Kira was beautiful, but not in a plasticky, fake way- her beauty rippled beneath the skin, boiling hot and purple, staining her lips Cherry-red and her skin porcelain-white. Her hair swirled around her shoulders in glossy, neat waves, and her body was a perfect array of angles and curves, like she had been carved from marble. Teru had fallen deeply in love with her within seconds. Most nights, he laid in bed, tangled tightly between lust and guilt, his hands trailing over himself, thinking of her. Thinking of his god, her hands, her hair, her lips- his unworthiness.
Someone knocked on his door.
He arose from his desk, combing a hand quickly though his hair.
“Ryuk, who is it?” He murmured, but Ryuk only chuckled darkly in reply.
Teru marched to the door, glancing through the window-
The door was thrust open. Teru tumbled into a bow, as the final shimmers of sunlight crowned his hallway as she entered his house.
“God!”
Kira smiled, cocking her head to one side as she surveyed the cowed man, almost a decade her senior. She could almost see the marionette strings, streaming from his body, trailing back to her. The sense of power sent shivers down her spine, pulsing heat that settled below her stomach.
“Mikami. You can stand.” She said, keeping her voice low, watching as he stumbled to his feet, blushing, eyes low, flickering up and down.
Teru looked at his god only in snatches. Her hair flowed around her shoulders, and she was wearing a white shirt and black skirt with black tights. The skirt had ridden up, now resting high on her thighs, displaying a long trail of black leg. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and Teru felt his body stiffen as she leaned forward, her chest pressing against the thin fabric so her nipples were visible, stepping into his house like she owned it. She shut the door with a muted click.
“Are you currently writing?” She asked calmly.
Teru shuddered a breath, and when he replied, his voice was halting and fast. He tried to look anywhere but Light’s chest as he spoke.
“Yes. I’ve almost finished my amount for the day. I can write more of course- I’ll write as many as you want.” He added anxiously.
Kira’s laugh echoed. She placed one delicate hand over her smirk as she regarded Teru- his shaking form, his nervous eyes, the pen still clamped in his hand. His arousal was so obvious, it was almost pitiful- she knew he was getting off on this meeting, like he did the first time, that his mind was probably constantly thinking of her- and the thought drove her hands forward, wrapping like pythons around his neck, so her clasped hands rested behind his head. Teru shook as Light pressed her body against his, letting her chest bulge out, letting her thigh press against his obvious erection as he struggled for breath.
“You don’t need to write anymore tonight, Mikami.” She whispered in his ear, letting her wetted lips trail against the pale skin. “You can please Kira in other ways.”
Her hand travelled to his belt, tracing underneath it, running across the fabric. Teru whimpered slightly, a completely pathetic sound, and it almost sent her completely over the edge.
“Where’s your bedroom?” Light whispered, and Teru, shaking so much she wondered how he could even walk, led her down the hall and up the stairs to his bedroom.
Instantly, Teru was pressed against the bed, one of Light’s hands holding him against the mattress, the other rapidly unlacing his belt, pulling down his trousers and everything else. She stepped gracefully out of her tights and positioned herself on his stomach, leaning forwards over his body until she was kissing him, frantic, greedy kisses, not letting him breathe, until his breaths came in fervent pants.
Eventually, she relented, pressing back onto his cock until he was inside of her. Teru groaned as she began to pump up and down, hands scrabbling at his chest, entwining into his hair, pinning his arms onto the duvet. Mikami’s groans melted into whimpered moans, each more pathetic than the last, words barely forming before another wave of pleasure overtook him.
“God… please…”
The pleasure built and built, climbing, rising, until-
Teru came with a groan, his back arching as he climaxed. Stress, relief, poured out of him, staining the duvet and streaming down Light’s legs.
The sight of Teru, head back, soaked in sweat, completely and utterly entwined with his God- that was what satisfied Light the most. With a quiet moan, she climaxed, and the room fell silent.