Disclaimer: I do not own or make money off of the anime Death Note
Suggested Listening: Sweet nothing by Calvin Harris ft Florence Welch (Florence + the machine)
AN: If you wish to read this as intended with the lyrics intact, please go to (slash) works (slash) 695841 or simply visit AO3 and look up ShinigamiMailJeevas
-Sweet Nothing-
Matt had his eyes closed behind the tinted goggles, hands above his head as he danced. The bass drove the beat to his very core and the haunting vocals pulled him in.
.
Matt did not dance in public.
He was tonight, just as Mello was. Across the room, with that other guy. He knew Mello would go home with him, and come back at dawn to crawl into their bed.
.
He pretended it did not matter, that what was done did not effect him. It was only sex between them.
Right?
He and Mello were only relieving stress.
Right?
.
He moved with the beat, head tilted, and mouthed the lyrics as he danced alone. He was in his own bubble and no one could touch him.
.
He felt neither pain nor joy, and let his mind wander to the idea that perhaps this was why clubs were so crowded. No one knew your name, your problems. No one cared. You could literally become lost in the music.
.
Hands ghosted over his hips and Matt's eyes fluttered for a moment.
He knew that touch.
.
Lips touched his and though he hated himself for it, he parted his own. He was trained in a sickening way to respond, willing or not.
His arms dropped as he was forced to press flush against the other, strands of blond tickled his neck as Mello tilted further down, meshing their mouths seamlessly together.
Matt could no longer think, breathe.
.
Hot fingers trailed underneath his shirt, scraping nails across his skin like fire. He moaned into Mello's mouth, and tangled his hands in the blond hair.
Mello never came to him when they were in the club.
He did not want to believe it meant anything.
No one meant anything to Mello.
Especially not him.
.
Mello's hands shifted course, drifting low to rest at his belt where nimble fingers undid the loop.
"Car now, Matty." Mello grinned against his lips. With a sinful, alcohol laced smile, Matt let the blond pull him by his belt from the dance floor where the beat still pounded in his chest.
He could hear the promises Mello made: to make him feel good, to make him forget, to make him feel weightless.
.
The way Mello kissed him, pressed against the hood of the car, was almost loving. A caress down his cheek, a soft kiss against his pulse...was almost enough.
The same mouth was on his seconds later, his jeans and boxers yanked down, leaving him bare for all to see.
Mello never thought twice about public sex when it got him what he wanted.
.
Head tilted to view the stars, arching into that talented mouth, Matt wanted to believe this meant something.
The hood bowed a little, the noise jolting his heart, yet Mello's hands on his hips and at the base of his cock kept him still.
The fear only added to his orgasm, leaving him breathless and shaking.
.
"Turn over." Mello commanded, his grip turning harsh as the feral look overtook his gaze.
Matt would enjoy whatever was dealt, he always did. Be it soft or violent. It was Mello, and it got him off like nothing else.
But the cold had already seeped back into his mind, shutting out his emotions, and as Mello said, letting him float away. Just not the way intended.
He closed himself off, and let himself be used for another night. He and Mello were only having a "good" time; something he could get from anyone in the club.
It meant little to Mello, and Matt forced it to mean less to himself.
.
Because Matt was living on such a sweet nothing.
-End-