Summary: "Mello pulls himself to his full height, and you've predicted his next three moves. Like a game of shogi. Demand. Threaten. Attack… The raw emotion on his face as he looks up at you shocks you, and the smoke rolls in waves from you parted lips. But it's fine; because another fire is lit as he grabs your chin and presses his lips to yours". MattxMello Yaoi!
AN: I wrote this at 2am the 31st... I actually finished a story in 2008! Huzzah! I'm sorry it took so long to get to you…my flash drive, Matt, died, and then my laptop, Mello, was all depressed… Anyway, it doesn't really have a purpose… other than angst and yaoi! What other purpose do you need? Believe it or not I was in a really good mood when I wrote this… doesn't show… oh well, screw you! =^.^= Nya!
---
You lean against the door jam, your arms folded in your familiar stance. You prop a boot up to anchor yourself and you think you should get new ones. Ones that aren't always falling apart at the seams. But you know you won't. These boots have been through everything with you, not to mention you're lazy, and what idiot spends what little money they have on food and clothing when they have cigarettes and booze?
You smirk bitterly around your unlit cigarette wondering why in hell you haven't fired it up yet. The only reason you've been pretending to try to quit is leaving…
You watch through sad eyes at the way his shoulders shake. If you'd had been anyone else you'd would've suspected he was crying.
No, he's angry. Angry and scared.
You watch the way his hands make panicked snatches at articles of clothing. Hey, that's your shirt! Oh, well, something to remember you by, perhaps?
You watch the way he balls it up to shove it into his duffle with the rest of them. You think , now, that he probably doesn't even realize it's yours.
And by the way he hastily zips the duffle and grabs his leather jacket—the one you stole for him after he first let you…—you know that he expects you back any minute.
He doesn't realize you never really left.
He slings the duffle over his shoulder. Where were you gazing off to while he put his jacket on… oh, yeah… His ass, which is actually clad in jeans for a change. You smirk as he turns and his eager momentum brings him almost nose to nose with you before he can stop, a stupid deer caught in the headlights of guilt.
He blinks. Once. Twice. Then he swallows. Ah, nervous, Mel?
You know he's not going to speak. He was never much of a talker on his feet. Practiced for hours in the mirror before insulting Near. Your guy just never learned to keep his cool. But that's part of what made him so alluring.
"You're leaving." It's not a question. Why would you ask something you know the answer to? It's merely a way to break this eternal silence between the two of you.
Mello pulls himself to his full height, and you've predicted his next three moves. Like a game of shogi.
Demand.
"Get out of the way, Jeevas!" His face is hard, but his eyes tell you he's just as tired as you are of playing this game. He's begging you to end it, because he doesn't have the strength to go down. Not now.
You just relax more into the door way; arms folded, and calmly suck on the taste of death. Why should he get everything so easily? You're the poor bastard that has to put up with his bitching.
His fist tightens around the bag's strap. He's red with rage now, not because he's realized you have no intentions of standing down, but because he's just realized what that means for him.
Threaten.
"Move or you'll find yourself physically incapable of the action." He growls, and you smirk again raising an eyebrow.
"You think you can take me, Mels?" You don't cease using his pet name for reasons unknown to even yourself, and his eyes snap to where your hand produces the metallic click of your lighter opening. He follows its progress to your face where your thumb strikes the flint causing the flame to ignite your death. You're tired of just a taste. You want to be smothered by it.
Your eyes meet his over the ember of the stick as you take your first drag. You wonder why he asked you to quit something he always loved watching you do.
Attack.
Mello lets his duffle hit the floor with a thud as he takes the cigarette from your mouth. He watches the fire die beneath his toe.
For a second, you're silenced as you brace for the punch. The stomach or face, you're sure.
The raw emotion on his face as he looks up at you again is shocking, and the smoke rolls in waves from you parted lips. But it's fine; because another fire is lit as he grabs your chin and presses his lips to yours.
Your arms uncross and your fingers sink into the Mello's buttery leather clad shoulders. Your boot comes off the wall and your leg hinges itself behind his knee, anchoring yourself to him. You arch into him and you moan like a fucking girl, because he's doing that wonderful thing with his teeth.
He spins you around and strips your vest off of you before you fall to the bed. You almost want to glare at your boot for being a bad anchor, but Mello's kneeling in front of you and undoing your laces. You thread your fingers through his hair while he's occupied because you know he loves to be pet, and he's being so loving as he looks up at you and sighs leaning into your touch.
His hands travel slowly up your jeaned thighs and tugs gently at your belt buckle letting you know what he wants. But he stops before you can agree and he trails his fingers lightly up you side under your shirt. They're cold, like always, and you shiver slightly as one appendage circles your belly button.
One hand leaves your skin to burry itself in the hair at the nape of your neck and he pulls you down for another searing kiss. You wonder how his mouth can be so warm when the rest of him is cold and his tongue darts out to dance along your lips. You grant him entrance with a small gasp and he's exploring your mouth for the thousandth time it seems. But unlike his usual fight for dominance, this exploration is a slow sensual seduction.
Your moan isn't heard, but felt through your chest where his hand traces non-sense patterns. He rises without breaking the kiss and his knee presses in between your thighs on the mattress. Strong hands grip your hips and he moves you back further on the bed. He slowly lowers himself to lie against you, the intensity of his stare sending shivers up your spine.
Those lips press to that sensitive place just behind your ear, and he's slowly dragging your shirt up your chest. He pauses occasionally to explore the small dip in your stomach and his nails rake deliciously over your nipples. You arch into his touch because it's the best it has ever been.
He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.
You yell it over and over inside your head in attempt to ignore that your heart is telling you it doesn't matter. He'll leave you anyway.
But there's really no time to think about such things because your goggles have landed on the bed beside you and the cool air is caressing your naked torso. You think maybe continually zoning out like this may be dangerous to your health in the future.
There's a delicious pressure against your hardened member now as Mello grins evilly down at the unconscious jerk of your hips. "Ahh, Mel!" Your head is thrown back and you're grinding up into his palm. He's the poison that will slowly kill you. This teasing is just the start. The momentum of the harsh tug that dislodges your belt from your waist rolls you onto your stomach with a surprised 'oomph!'
You see black leather being tossed to the floor out the corner of your eye as Mello straddles you from behind. You try to push up with your elbows; you don't like being this out of control. But he won't have it as his hands trail up you sides, almost tickling. "Uh uh, Matty."
"Guh." You sigh and let yourself fall back to the bed. Just give in.
Mello's hands continue trailing up your shoulders and skim over the sensitive skin of your arms to circle lightly around your wrists. He presses into you causing you to skink deeper into the mattress.
"What do you want?" His hoarse whisper tickles your ear and neck sending shivers down your spine. "Tell me." He melds his body against yours and the shock of his cool naked skin makes you gasp is pleasure.
"Please." You moan into covers. "Please."
"Tell me." He demands.
Oh, he's playing again. What a cruel game.
You want to win this round.
You grind you ass back against him slowly, and you hear his breath catch in his chest. You grind harder now. "Oh, Mels. Yes." You sigh his name in that breathy little way you know he can't resist.
He's on to you though, and this time he attacks with his hands.
He leans back off of you and his arms pull you up with him, but then you're falling back onto the mattress higher up the bed. "Oomph!"
Before you can get your bearings to fight back you're being turned over and your jeans are jerked off your body leaving you naked and vulnerable and Mello standing at the end of the bed clutching the denim in angry fists.
You cringe at the fury on his face and scrabble back up the bed. But you have nowhere to go as he stalks toward you. He slides onto the end of the bed with a glint in his eyes and the light reflect off his slow purposeful movements. He's the powerful cheetah and you're the gazelle that will succumb under the crushing pressure of his jaws.
He grabs hold of your foot and pulls you further down the bed. You watch him wearily for a sign of your punishment as he straddles your hips, but his face is stoic as he gathers both of your wrists in his hand, holding them down above your head.
And—
"Ahh!" You scream when he thrust his pelvis against yours. The worn denim of his jeans creates heavenly friction and you can feel his hard heat trapped beneath the fabric. His mouth attaches to your nipple as the next thrust comes, and you arch almost completely off the bed from the double attack. He bites down fiercely on your nipple and his hips slam you back down into the mattress.
He's punishing you, but the roughness just makes you want to arch into him more.
His hips now move in slow torturous circles against yours, and he trails tiny hot kisses across your chest and shoulders.
In between kisses he asks calmly. "Now." Kiss. "What is it" Kiss. "That you" Kiss. "Were saying" Kiss. "You wanted?"
You strain you back trying to arch into both his kisses and his teasing thrusts. "Mmm. Mel, stop teasing me."
He freezes his ministrations and looks you in the eye. "You want me to stop?"
"No!" You jerk your hips against his trying to regain contact. "No." You look at him, and he stares back patiently. Who is this man wearing your lovers body? He's so different from the rash, 'gotta-have-it-now' Mello you've always known.
You turn your head away and press your face into the sheets. "Fuck me." You murmur.
"What was that, Matty?" He's grinning; you can hear it in his voice.
"Fuck me!" You yell, and suddenly he's kissing you like you'll fade away if he ever stops. You're hands are free and his hands are pulling at your hair in that way you love. You want him now! Inside you! Fuck this girly foreplay shit!
His lips part from yours in a gasp of surprise and encouragement, you're sure, when your hands pull his dick free from his pants. You smirk as a portion of your control returns and pull his jeans down over his beautiful ass.
"Off." You whisper, and you help him kick them the rest of the way down his legs.
Before you can regain complete control, however, his tongue trails up your jugular and his white teeth nip gently back down it until you're sure it is lined with irritated red patches.
"Fuck." You sigh and fall back to the bed.
"Mmm." Mello kisses your forehead. "Exactly."
"Ah! Wha--" You find yourself being turned over once again, and slick cool fingers circle teasingly around your entrance. "Ah! Mello!"
He laughs throatily, and breathes on the liquid trail his fingers left behind. "Ah! Fuck!" Warmth spreads from the liquid and you know your skin there now taste of strawberries.
"Oh, gods, Mel." You moan into the sheets, and you knead them in your fists in anticipation. "Please."
The tip of his newly coated finger probes your pucker, not enough pressure to breach but enough to drive you wild as you thrash your head back and forth. He pulls his finger away chuckling as you try to push yourself back on it. "Eager, are we?"
"Please." You moan as your cock brushes the sheets as you stretch back again.
"What do you want now?"He asks giving you a tender bite to your ass cheek.
You growl in frustration. "You know what I fucking want!"
He spreads you open with his hands and blows against your entrance again. "Ahh! Okay! Your tongue! I want your tongue!"
You feel you bubble gum appendage lick up your crack before it circles your tiny pucker. "Yesss!" You hiss. "More."
He pulls away again giving your ass another nip. "Get on all fours." He demands. You scramble to obey him, bracing yourself on your hands and knees. "Good dog." He laughs at your eagerness.
"Mel, just fucking do it." You groan.
"Alright. Alright." He leans over you from behind and trails poisonous kisses down your spine. You expect him to slowly tease you in to oblivion. In fact, you're fully prepared for it.
You're not, however, prepared for the complete assault of him sucking your tender ring of flesh into his mouth. "Ahh! Fuck, Mello! Yes!" You push back into him wanting more.
His tongue teases your entrance, mocking his finger's earlier actions, and then he's tongue fucking you. You gasp and roll your hips to match the motions of his tongue, and you feel your muscles loosening around it.
"Now, Mello." You plead. "I need you, now."
You feel him pull away from you and you sigh, sure that you are unable to handle much more teasing.
Mello kisses the small of your back, just where your spine dips, and continues to press his hot promises up your back.
His teeth graze against your shoulder and you know, now, that he never intended on keeping any of them.
"Ready?" He asks while slicking himself.
"Completely," You whisper, and hope he doesn't hear the tears in your voice.
He presses a kiss to your neck and whispers, "On your back."
You resist slightly as he turns you and fits himself perfectly between your thighs, and you hope the city outside your small window is dim enough to hide your secrets.
But cities are never dim.
"Matt." Mello surprises you once again tonight by brushing the tears from your cheeks with that soft look on his face. "Now is not the time."
He kisses you longingly, "Celebrate with me."
And you kiss him back. You're going to hold onto him for as long as you can . . . even if it's only until the sun breaks through.
His hands glide across your chest and shoulders, down your arms, and you quiver in excitement. His fingers playfully intertwine with yours and he stares down at you with a smile in his eyes.
"Are you ready?" He asks again.
He's petting your thighs. Reassuring you, and you can pretend for now. You bend your knees. "Love me?"
He presses a kiss to your ear and whispers, "Love you."
He's pressing against your entrance and your heart skips a beat before doubling its effort.
You clutch Mello's shoulders and cross your ankles to rest just above his ass. "More." You gasp, your head thrown back, and you thrive off that scorching delight as he slowly spreads you apart.
He's fully seated into you when you look into his eyes. You see the strain there, holding back in anticipation. His breathing is labored, and you swear you can feel the blood pulsing through his veins inside of you.
You can't look away from his eyes as he pulls back out, inch by torturous inch. Your hand curls around the back of his neck as he slides back in. His lips part in a gasp to reveal his clenched teeth and purposefully tighten yourself around his hardness.
That wonderful spot is bumped as he jerks into you further with a surprised grunt.
He opens his eyes, again fully seated, to see your mischievous smile. You unlock your feet from behind his back and he helps you get the over his shoulders, loving the way he feels inside you as he moves.
Your hands reach for the bars at the head of the bed as his hands grasps your hips, lifting them higher.
He pulls slowly out once more, and just before he leaves you he's back again. You both gasp at the slight increase of speed and stimulation.
Each thrust is a renewal, faster and faster and faster. Until he's slamming into you and your legs are shaking with the force of it, and your palms are as sweaty as the rest of you and blistering against the iron bars.
You can't quite catch your breath, and he's abusing your prostate with each pass now. "Ah. Mel! More!" And that's all you want is just more.
"Mat, I—" Mello thrust are getting less precise and you think he's almost finished until his hand is on your neglected penis and his stroking you to his rhythm.
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" It becomes a chant you don't think you could stop, even if you did realize you were saying it.
Mello's chanting with you, now. In gasps, though. He's too far gone to form words.
You senses are reeling, and your chanting is weakening and is melting into Mello's heavy gasps and moans and the soft beat of the bed against the wall. You can't hear your heart beat over them and you thought of death flutters through your mind.
Maybe this is what it's like to die.
You hope for a second as Mello stares into you in this final moment that you can die forever. And, oh, much too quickly, Mello jerks, and his hand tightens around your own shockingly fierce orgasm. He spills his seed into you and your juice covers his stomach and chest and hand.
You legs weakly slide off Mello's shoulders to rest in the crook of his elbows and your arms lie limply on either side of your head. Mello lets your legs fall to the mattress and buries his face in your neck, not yet ready to pull out.
You're bruised, battered, tired, and sweat and cum slicked, but your content here with your lover.
Mello breathes hot against your already heated skin as he comes down from his high, his muscles stretch and he sifts—.
"Mel, stay." You demand.
But you've never mastered the threaten and attack the way he has, and he's silent as he pulls away from you and as he closes the bathroom door, never looking back to you.
----
You wake when the glaring winter sun hits your face.
The bed is cold and the sheets echo his caress when you turn away from the window from where the sounds of 108 bells ring half way across the world to bring in the new year. You pull your cigarette and lighter from the pocket of your discarded pants and roll onto your back once more.
The cigarette sits in between bruised lips like an old friend and the flame that brings your death closer doesn't warm you at all.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So… what'd you think? I'm not completely happy with it, but that's me. It's been a bit since I've written Fanfic…sorry… so what do you think?