Work Text:
Mello isn’t aware of a second presence in the office with him until he feels a hand on his thigh.
It’s sudden and unexpected, enough to tear his gaze away from the screen for the first time in what must be at least three hours, but not enough to make him jump. He knows exactly who it is, and what he wants.
Near doesn’t cower when their gazes lock. He keeps his eyes fixed on Mello’s, steady and purposeful, and slides his hand further along the smooth leather of his pants towards his crotch. Mello’s hand darts out to grasp his wrist.
“I’m working,” he says.
“I want you,” Near replies bluntly. Against his will, Mello feels his cock harden in his pants, at the mere shamelessness of Near’s confession.
It’s a recent development, this boldness of Near’s. Near was never a passive person, by any means, but up until around six months ago, sexual situations were unfamiliar to him, so he was perfectly happy to take a backseat in that aspect of their relationship. Now that they’ve been together for a little while, he’s become much more comfortable initiating sex when he wants it – which often happens to be at the most inconvenient time possible for Mello.
Mello’s attention briefly shifts back to his computer screen. He told L he’d have this report written by midnight, and it’s just past eleven; as much as he would love to entertain Near’s presence, he knows he can’t afford to lose precious minutes from his work. It’s not a strict deadline, but Mello doesn’t want to be seen as careless or incompetent. Disappointing the man he’s idolised since he was seven is not on the cards for tonight.
Disappointing Near isn’t on the cards either, though, so he offers a compromise.
“I’ll be done with this by midnight,” he says. “After that, I’m all yours.”
Apparently, this isn’t good enough for Near.
His next act of defiance is far more direct. He uses his size to his advantage, squeezing himself in between Mello and the desk and climbing onto Mello’s lap – facing him, arms wrapped around his neck. The force is enough to push Mello’s office chair away from his computer, which prompts a long sigh.
“When did you get this impatient?” he mutters, grasping Near’s ass and giving it a small squeeze despite himself.
“I’m not,” Near says. “You told me this would take you about an hour. I waited for three. ”
Mello moves one hand to the edge of the desk and pulls, dragging the chair back towards it. “Then you can handle one more.”
The small pout Near offers in response would, under normal circumstances, result in the rapid undoing of Mello’s resolve. Worse still is that Near has begun writhing in his lap; not quite grinding on him, but shifting his weight in a way that’s troublesome nonetheless. Mello huffs. Near is fully aware of what he’s doing. He knows the effect he has on Mello.
He’s teasing him.
If that’s how this is going to be, then perhaps Mello will do a little teasing of his own.
“Fine. Have it your way.”
Mello secures Near with both hands and lifts him as he stands. He’s light in Mello’s arms, and he clings to Mello like a baby koala when he starts walking, limbs wrapped firmly around his torso. He doesn’t smile, but there’s a certain smugness about his stare when Mello sets him down at an open spot on the edge of the desk, like seducing Mello is a game, and he’s convinced he's already won. Mello finds himself all too eager to see that expression vanish.
He spreads Near’s legs, creating a space for himself to stand between them, and leans forward until their lips are close enough to meet. The kiss is slow and leisurely, in contrast to the speed of Mello’s fingers making quick work of Near’s shirt buttons. Mello knows Near won’t want him to take his time, and he’s happy to comply, in that regard – that’s not the kind of teasing he has in mind for now.
Almost as soon as Near’s pants and boxers are stripped away, Mello’s hand is wrapped around his cock. Near’s skin is smooth and pleasantly warm, the weight of his arousal satisfying under Mello’s palm. Mello wastes no time in beginning to stroke him, answering the silent plea of Near’s wide, hopeful eyes.
The contact draws a soft whimper from Near amongst the rapid, shallow breaths. That small noise spurs Mello on, and he speeds up the motion of his fist until Near’s voice leaps in pitch and volume, full-on moans escaping him on every other stroke. Beads of precum leak from his tip, and Mello smears them over the entire length to ease the glide of his hand.
Near was already pretty worked up before Mello even started touching him, so it takes hardly any time for Mello to bring him to the edge. It’s obvious he’s getting close when his eyelids squeeze shut and his hips buck upwards into Mello’s hand.
“Mello-” Near’s voice is strained, like his vocal cords are a syllable away from snapping. “Mello, I’m-”
Mello pulls his hand away immediately, and Near interrupts his own sentence with a whine. His eyes fly open, dark irises clouded by lust and an air of frustration. Mello has to bite his cheek to stop himself from smirking.
“What’s wrong, Near?” He quirks an eyebrow in a pantomime of cluelessness.
Near’s nose crinkles. “You stopped.” The words are tinged with frustration and petulance, a thin veneer over his lingering desperation.
Mello absolutely loves it.
“What were you expecting me to do? Get you off?” Mello glances down at Near’s now-neglected cock, standing red and swollen between them. “What kind of lesson would I be teaching you then?”
Near responds with another small noise, somewhere between a groan and a choked sob, and Mello finally allows himself to grin. It’s always a thrill, messing with Near like this; bringing him to the edge of what he can withstand, testing the limits of his desire. It’s fucking hot, for a start – but more than anything, it’s a huge hit of air to his ego. Knowing that he’s the only person who’s ever seen Near like this. Knowing that he’s the only person who ever could.
He basks in the victory as he settles back into his seat and wiggles the computer mouse to reawaken the screen. Near is sufficiently frustrated, which is his main criteria for success. The only downside of the triumph is that his own arousal has now crept up on him, and his mind keeps unhelpfully reminding him that Near is seated well within his vicinity, naked and openly desperate for Mello’s touch.
He skims over the last paragraph he managed to write of his report, attempting to recalibrate his mindset. He’s put Near in his place. This should be his focus now. He forces himself to type something at the very least, approaching it one sentence at a time until the words start to flow naturally.
There’s movement, on the very border of his vision, as Near shuffles and fidgets in his spot. Against his better judgement, Mello turns his head to look.
Their eyes lock.
“You’re being cruel,” Near says. His voice is firmer than it had been, now that he’s come down from the brink of orgasm.
Mello shrugs. “It’s your own fault.”
His eyes linger a little too long, leaving a charged silence between them as their eyes speak for themselves – Near’s stare open and needy, Mello’s relaxed and slightly amused. Near’s mouth opens and closes twice, and Mello is a millisecond away from turning back to his work, until he sees Near’s hand drift down between his legs and give his own cock one long, bold stroke. Mello reflexively grabs his arm.
“Don’t do that.”
“Then touch me.”
His persistence is impressive; Mello will give him that.
“Fine,” he concedes. “I’ll cut you a deal. If you can sit on my cock as long as it takes me to finish this report, without riding me, I’ll let you come.”
“What happens if I can’t?”
Mello thinks for a minute. “Then you don’t get to come for a week.”
Near exhales and his chin falls, as if the weight of his sigh drags his head down with it. He stares at his erection, still held loosely in his hand, mourning the loss of Mello's touch.
“Alright,” he agrees.
“You gotta prepare yourself, though. I’m busy.”
“Of course.”
Near slides off onto the ground and slips out of the room, returning only a minute later with a bottle of lube in his hand. He manages to pull himself back up onto the desk into an empty space right next to the computer, almost directly in Mello’s line of vision. Mello grimaces as he hears the click of the bottle cap. Even if he’s not actively watching as Near coats his fingers in lube, or when he pushes the first finger inside himself, he knows it’s happening, and that’s distracting enough. Keeping his eyes on the screen is near impossible with such an enticing display just a slight head turn to his right.
Clearly, distraction is Near’s goal. The curve of his body forms an acute angle, shoulder blades pressed to the wall and head stooped so his chin touches the uppermost point of his chest. He has his legs up as high as he can hold them without the use of his hands, showing himself off, posing such that Mello’s peripheral vision is dominated by the curve of his ass and the obscene movement of his fingers. The position is visibly uncomfortable. There’s no way Near would have voluntarily bent his body like that if not to maximise the temptation.
Unfortunately, it’s working, and working well. Mello can’t not hear the wet slide of Near’s finger as he fucks himself a half-metre away from his keyboard, and the filthy little noises he makes in between gasps, illicit enough that they could probably drive Mello to orgasm without even touching his own body. He refuses to look, though; if one of them is going to crack, Mello is determined to make sure it’s not him.
Near adds a second finger, and Mello rests one elbow on the desk, using his hand to create a wall at one side of his face while the other continues typing. He plugs his ear with his thumb in an effort to muffle some of the sounds.
It’s not as effective as he’d hoped. Near’s breath is harder to hear now, but his moans only grow louder and more frequent, easily slipping past Mello’s weak defences. Regardless, he soldiers on, vaguely impressed with his own restraint. He manages to keep his eyes and hands occupied until he knows it’s over, when Near’s voice fades and the desk quivers as he climbs down.
Lube in hand, Near settles himself beneath the desk and guides Mello’s legs apart so he can access the waist of his leather pants. He struggles for a while with the maze of laces – usually, Mello would assist him with that job, but on this occasion, he appreciates the additional time it allows him to work on his report.
It seems a shame to ignore him entirely though, even if Mello knows it would be the wisest decision. It’s just– he loves the look in Near’s eyes when he undresses Mello; like he’s admiring a masterfully-crafted statue, or a God who’s appeared in front of him. Like every single time he sees Mello’s body is a new experience.
His pants are finally shoved open, and Near reaches up to unzip Mello's vest as well, leaving him with his chest bare and his cock out at his fucking desk. He's already pretty damn close to fully-hard, and it doesn't take much before he's pulsing in Near's grasp. His attention strays again at Near's direct touch, so he pulls back from the keyboard momentarily to watch, captivated.
He’s captivated still as Near slicks lubricant over his dick and hauls himself up onto Mello's lap. Mello grips the edge of the desk to stop his chair from sliding back and waits as Near carefully aligns himself before sinking down onto Mello's cock. Near clutches onto Mello's shoulders, unsteady, until Mello is completely inside him.
They both sigh in almost perfect unison once Near is fully seated. A long moment passes in silence, the two of them entwined in the cramped space of the office chair, bathing in each other’s warmth. After a while, Near nudges Mello in the ribs.
“Hurry up,” he whispers.
Mello nods, still halfway breathless, and holds Near’s head against his shoulder with one hand to keep him from blocking the screen.
It is, quite frankly, a divine form of torture, having Near's tight heat wrapped around him, quiet and yet still palpably wanting as he desperately tries to focus on work. It's something about the way Near rests in his lap, too, the angled softness of his spindly legs and the warm, velvety expanse of his thin chest pressed against Mello's, that contributes to his slowly-dissolving sanity. Mello manages to grit his teeth and force his way through it, minute by minute, the promise of pure heaven allowing him to hold on through hell.
Still, even with determination and focus, twenty minutes feel like a goddamn eternity. By the time he's finished with the report, he's incredibly tempted to just fire it off without proofreading, but he bites the side of his tongue hard and toys with the hair at the back of Near's head while he checks his grammar, punctuation, and consistency. Finally— two minutes before midnight— he's done. Mello attaches the file to an email, types up a few words, addresses it to L, and hits send.
He switches off the computer and spins the chair around, pressing its back up against the desk so it stays in place. Near immediately springs to life.
“Did you finish the report?” he asks, face endearingly bright.
“Yeah,” Mello says, kind of dazzled by Near's eagerness despite himself.
“Can I move?”
Mello is so desperate to say yes that it’s practically painful, but the chance to tease Near just a little more is too tempting to pass up. He untangles his fingers from Near’s hair and moves them to cup his face.
“Hm, I don’t know,” he says, running his thumbs along Near’s cheekbones. “Do you really think you’ve earned it?”
Near looks unamused.
“Mello,” he complains.
Mello smirks. “Alright. Go ahead.”
The first raise of Near’s hips is sheer bliss. It’s heavenly, finally feeling his cock drag against Near’s walls after twenty minutes of forcing himself to sit still and act like he hasn’t been aching for some kind of friction. Near starts off slow, softly rocking in Mello’s lap, one hand holding onto Mello’s shoulder whilst the other coils straight strands of golden hair into loose curls.
Near tilts his head back a little way, awarding Mello with a clear view of his eyes. His pupils are blown wide, surrounded by thin discs of grey alight with desire and pure, plain devotion. Mello can’t resist the urge to kiss him. It’s fleeting and a little shaky, impeded by the motion of Near’s body, but it’s intoxicating all the same.
With a slight adjustment to his position and a hitch of his breath, Near picks up the pace, eyelids drifting closed while he grinds down faster and harder on Mello’s cock. Mello’s hands slide lower from Near’s sides to his hips, his touch serving as an anchor to keep Near’s rhythm consistent as he focuses only on chasing the euphoria that accompanies each downward sway.
Mello isn’t sure which he likes best – Near gazing up at him beneath sweat-soaked bangs, hips rolling slowly and deliberately, his touch and stare heavy with affection, or the sight of his screwed-shut eyes and his cheeks flushed scarlet as his loses himself totally in the pleasure.
His favourite part by far, though, is the way Near clings to him when he’s close; his head nestling itself in the inward curve of Mello’s shoulder, his blunt nails digging into Mello’s back, the breathy utterance of Mello’s name. Just two strokes of Mello’s hand and Near’s body is trembling as he comes with a long whine, spilling over Mello’s fist and abdomen.
Near’s hips very courteously keep moving with the same speed and fervour, even once the edge of pleasure on his voice vanishes and the stimulation becomes overwhelming. He gasps brokenly against Mello’s neck, and with a rush of both lust and fondness, Mello starts thrusting up to meet him, releasing himself inside Near’s beautiful, twitching body.
Near’s body goes limp in his arms. Mello holds him close enough to feel each rise and fall of his chest, quick and shallow breaths that gradually settle into a slower, deeper rhythm. His fingers trace up the length of Near's spine, then move in circles around his upper back, drawing idle patterns on the smooth skin across his shoulder blades.
“Worth the wait?” he murmurs.
A pleased hum vibrates from somewhere low in Near’s chest.
“You’re always worth waiting for.”