The gloved hand rubbed gently over the long, hard, protrusion, his lips pursed in affection. Ssh, ssh, it's ok, he mentally consoled his beloved. His eyes were half-lidded under the tinted goggles he always wore, and slowly, tentatively, biting his lip, the red-head raised his head, fingers shaking slightly, as he stroked the hole of his lover. It warmed under his fingertips, and he felt a glint of satisfaction in him. Does it feel good? He wanted to ask, somewhat patronizingly, letting his dominating side show itself. I know you like it… Do you want me to stick my key in your slot?

A tap at his window startled him from the delicate process and Matt shot up like a jack-in-the-box, his head striking the roof. His cheeks burned like fire as his best friend-with-benefits eyed him through the window, motioning for him to open the door. Mello stood, his blue eyes boring into the green ones of Matt's, hands on leather-covered hips. "Matt, are you…" his voice was disbelieving, astounded, as if he were considering sending Matt off to the nearest nut-house as they spoke for having his fingertips pressed erotically into the key-hole of a vehicle. "Are you jacking off your car?"

Matt's cheeks burned even more now, and he looked on his hand, noticing the oil stain on the tip of one finger. Surprise, surprise; the antique vehicle that Matt had restored was actually getting wet from Matt's ministrations.

"He liked it," was his only response, as he reluctantly relinquished his grip on the gear shift stick. Mello just shook his head, rolling his eyes. "You're so weird, Matt." Matt sat up, allowing Mello to crawl over his lap and settle in the passenger seat beside him. Matt considered telling the blonde that he should just enter the vehicle through the passenger-side door, but the thought left his mind as he realized that the younger male had stopped, hovering over his lap, his buttocks protruding, pressed against the sinfully tight leather that he insisted upon wearing, tantalizingly close to Matt's face.

Matt's breath caught in his chest as he drank in the sight before him, Mello crouched over his lap, his thin chest pressed against the soft seats of Matt's beloved car, his face turned so that he could peak at his friend over his bare shoulder, an evil grin embedded on his thin, very kissable, lips. Mello wiggled his ass, just a little, before slinking the rest of the way to his own seat, righting himself until he sat normally beside Matt, a perfectly neutral expression on his face, as if nothing were unusual. "Drive." He commanded, his voice sounding bored.

Matt's hands, as well as significant other parts of his anatomy, twitched in annoyance and resignation. Mello was always doing this to him—forever, the touches, the kisses, the seductive little wriggles; Matt could get no peace. And before Matt ever even had a chance to react, the younger teen was once again acting as if nothing happened. It was driving the older male mad. It was times like this where his fantasies made themselves present; the desire to shove the little fucker down, to bite and lick and scratch and force the brat to behave for once. It annoyed him how, without even being touched, his arousal was already making itself known to him. If Mello noticed, he made no comment of it.

"What did I say?" he turned to his friend, who sat there, staring angrily out the window. "Drive!" The command in his voice made Matt jump. Matt was always the dominant one; in every relationship he had ever been in, he had been the dominant one, the forceful personality, the one who called the shots. Every relationship, that is, except the longest one. From early childhood, Mello, though smaller, frailer, than Matt, had made every decision. His wish was Matt's command, whether Matt agreed or not; it was as if Matt had no control whatsoever over anything when Mello was around. Without further ado, the red-head backed from the driveway.

"Where are we going?" he asked the blonde, having not have planned the excursion ahead of time.

"Just drive," was his only response. And Matt did so.

The car was silent at first, the only words spoken between the two being "Left", "right", "keep going". Matt did so unquestionably and didn't flinch as slim fingers tugged on the dials of Matt's radio, selecting a station. Heavy percussion, shrieking singers, low, throbbing base filled the vehicle. Had it been anyone else messing with Matt's radio, changing his station from his general rock selection, that person would have been dead or at the very least wishing they were dead right now. But this was Mello; Matt was to accept Mello's every decision, without question, without exception.

Without warning, cold lips were pressed against the side of Matt's face. Aah! The alarm sounded in his head, but he held perfectly still, eyes on the road, one arm around the steering wheel, impassive as always.

"Matt," Mello breathed, chocolate-scented breath bathing the larger man's face. "Matt…" perfect white teeth scraped over his skin, sending shivers up Matt's spine. Eyes on the road, eyes on the road… The teeth came down harder, actually pinching some flesh between the incisors. Matt's hand shook on the wheel and he swerved slightly. He felt Mello smile against his skin without pulling away. Tongue, lips, and teeth trailed damp, cool patterns over quickly-heating flesh and Matt felt himself shiver. Finally, he spoke.

"Mello," he said nothing else, but the surprise in his voice, the tightening of his hands, gave him away as easily as if he had composed his feelings into song-form and preformed them as a ballad at Mello's feet. How interesting would that be—a song of adoration bordering on worship, and lust, and… Matt felt irritated at how easily distracted he was. He really wanted a cigarette.

"Oh, Mattie," Mello's tongue found the soft shell of his ear and traced it as he moaned out his best friend's name. "Want you…" Matt felt as if his belly were sending electric jolting shocks throughout his body, resounding in his brain. He throbbed. He turned to Mello, opening his mouth to speak, when the wheel was wrenched out of his grasp and a cloth was ground unapologetically into his face.

~.~.~.~.

Matt awoke with a throbbing headache, his eyes squinched shut. The genius section of his brain—the part that studied while focused on the highest level of any video game, composing music and planning surprise sexual encounters with his car all the while—was fascinated with the fact that his limbs felt as if they were wound tight as clocks; his body was as stiff and pained as if he was an adobe brick baked in the sun. God, this HURT. One eye opened, followed by the other, then closed again when he realized that he couldn't see; his vision was completely white. What happened… oh. Aah. He recalled Mello's viciously triumphant facial expression as noxious fumes were forced into his nasal canal, the pale hands gripping the steering wheel. My car! Was the first thought, and then, Mello! He didn't even bother to dwell on the blonde's motives for knocking him out; all he could think about was whether or not Mello was alright, if the car had crashed, where Mello was. He once again attempted to peal his eyelids open and this time, despite the sparks flashing like fireworks in his brain and the nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach, he was able to see. He absently noticed the removal of his goggles and turned his face to the side. He was on a small, rickety bed in a generic-looking room, a motel room, and a cheap one at that. He noticed his own nakedness but didn't think much upon it. He turned his face more, searching, searching despite the pain the movement caused him, until, oh.

Mello sat in a grafittied desk chair beside the bed, completely naked, legs spread obscenely, three fingers knuckle-deep pressed into his own rectum. The fireworks doubled their pace throughout Matt's system and it took him a moment to figure out the reason being the instant doubling of his heart-rate. A strange feeling of arousal and nausea filled his entire body, and his eyes widened to the point of bursting as Mello's head tipped back, brazen yowls escaping the bumpy throat. Without restraint, Mello's body shook violently. Matt shifted, shocked at the unexpected erotic images that danced before his eyes, and Mello's head snapped to face the red-head who reclined, unrestrained, on the bed. "Oh, Mattie!" his loud voice hurt Matt's ears. Damn; formaldehyde was worse than a hangover from rum.

Mello's body leapt through the air in a single bound, crashing upon the older man's. "Damn, Matt!" he griped, ignoring the muffled scream of pain from the man underneath him. "You kept me waiting for hours! Do you know how horny I get when I have to wait that long for sex? You're turning my balls blue!"

"Sorry!" Matt managed to say, his voice a pathetic wheeze. His throat was achingly dry; he craved water, a bath. However, instead, he got a wet mouth around his cock. "Nngh!" Dammit, Mello; this was… well, what he had been wanting for a long time, but still! Not appropriate! Then again, had Mello ever been appropriate in any situation?

The wide mouth sucked viciously, like slurping soda from the bottom of a glass with a straw. It hurts! The slurping sounds continued eagerly. "Come on," Mello insisted, between slurps. "Get hard… now! I don't want to wait…"And, although Mello's ministrations were too painful to be erotic to Matt, the command was what did the trick. Matt could never resist a demand from his Mello, after all.

"Finally," Mello wheezed, releasing Matt's now stiff prick, the practically instantaneous hardening having caused him to choke a little. Swiping drool off of his chin, he flung himself onto the bed, landing on his back, next to Matt, who bounced from the jolt, wheezing.

"Now fuck me!" the perky tone was quite abrasive to the still-somewhat-drugged Matt. Mello wanted what? Matt had wondered about it before and now he once again considered the sanity of his friend. This was the closest he had ever come to verbally questioning Mello. After knocking me out with drugs known to be deadly, you somehow take me to an ugly motel and now want me to fuck you?

Matt struggled to his feet, instantly collapsing onto one knee as he did so, a palm pressed flat against the moldy carpet, wheezing. The world spun in circles around him and he felt as if he might vomit. It was a long time before he righted himself again, an impatient whine from Mello urging him on. He had never actually penetrated Mello before, not even with fingers. Blowjobs and handjobs were an infrequent treat between the two, but besides that and a lot of kissing, they had never gone further.

Matt stood at the foot of the bed, eyeing the sight before him. Any other time, in any other situation, he would give over his entire soul for the sight of a hard and willing Mello, precum dripping out of his cock, eyes half-lidded and impatient, spreading his legs to the breaking point, adamantly ordering Matt to get inside of him, right now. But this… he could barely stand; it was taking all of his strength to maintain an erection… he slumped, bracing his weight on one hand. If Mello wants it, it's his, is the only thought in his mind.

"Don't you want any… any…" he couldn't find the right words in his jumbled brain.

"Lube?" piped Mello helpfully. "Don't need it." Matt didn't bother to wonder over this and clumsily poked the head of his penis at Mello's sphincter, where it awkwardly remained for a second before slipping inside with relative ease. Though still dry, Mello had stretched himself enough that the entrance wasn't difficult. The friction was still somewhat painful, though. But if Mello wanted to go dry, who was Matt to question?

Matt pumped, enjoying the warmth. He felt his brain clear of fog from every pump and was soon aware of Mello's wanton screams underneath him. God, who knew Mello could be such a slut? And who knew Matt would enjoy it so much?

The pumps increased in speed as Matt found out that his mobility increase was directly proportioned to the sound of Mello's moans. He even felt the wispy fog dominating his brain clear away more and more due to the physical exertion, though he still felt somewhat as if he were still in a dreamlike state. The thick thrusts were countered by Mello's wildly bucking, bony hips. I'm not gonna last long, Matt realized when he noticed the tightening of coils in his abdomen.

As if reading his thoughts, Mello's icy eyes flicked open, staring into his green ones with dark intensity. "Don't you dare come yet, Mattie," the commanding ring in his tone was present. "Not until I say you can."

Desperation reared its ugly head, and Matt soon let out a choking sob. "M—Mello, please!" The blonde ignored him. "Harder, Matt, almost… Guh!" Mello's eyes rolled in his head and Matt realized with a peak of satisfaction under the cloud of agony from holding back his orgasm for too long. He noticed absently that strings of white semen now decorated his own chest, and he wore them with pride. He, Matt, had caused the Great Mello to lose complete control over his body.

Matt's body was now trembling, doubled over and cramping, with the desire to keep standing, to keep pumping, and to keep holding it back. How is it even possible? His dazed mind dared to question. Although he enjoyed being teased by Mello during their previous sexual situations, he had never been asked to contain it so long, and this felt like forever! He opened his eyes when he felt a sharp fingernail flick his left nipple.

"Hah!" Matt let out a sound that was embarrassingly close to a squeak and was forced to slow almost to a stop as Mello sat up very carefully, keeping Matt's member buried inside himself. Hands grasped his hair, dragging his face down where he was captured in the filthiest kiss he could imagine. Mello's bitter-chocolate lips were everywhere and it was unbearable and Matt was so close…

And then those fabulous lips were underneath his hair, touching the shell of his ear. "Come, now, Matt." The tone was dark and a little chilling, and at the sound of it, Matt was spurting violently, filling the passage of his dear friend. Matt screamed, the scream ending with a choking sob as Mello pulled him down on top of himself, locking his long skinny limbs around Matt's somewhat thicker ones.

That mouth was there again, Matt noticed numbly, teeth nipping playfully around his skin, Matt too spent to react. The lips returned to his ear and, after quite a lot of licking and sucking, they shaped to whisper the words "No more paying attention to the car, Mattie. You want sex, you ask me."

This caught Matt's attention like nothing else would. Looking up, surprised, at his friend and lover, Matt tried to keep his smirk to himself. "Why, Mello, are you jealous of my car?"

"Hmph!" Mello was indignant, his delicate hand flashing down to smack Matt sharply on the ass before kissing him once, sweetly, underneath the eye.

"Maybe, Mattiekins. Maybe."

fin