Oh god, how can I explain this? A mix of boredom and free time, I guess.
Mello's pants.
Those tight, black, ridiculously sexy leather pants.
Yeah, you know the ones. The ones with the lace in the front that really isn't needed to hold them on.
My feelings for those pants are much like my feelings for Mello. It's a love-hate relationship. They give me a good view of his ass, and they make his thin legs look damn fine, but that doesn't change the fact that they're on him. Mello has no business wearing pants. They come off at bedtime, but I'm not allowed to watch.
How unfair is that?
Y'know, all of Mello's pants are tight and leather, but it's this pair that caused it all.
All of what, you ask?
Well, it was about a week ago. Close to bedtime. Mello went to slip out of those pants, and like always, I was stuck in the other room. I guess that all that chocolate went straight to his hips, cuz' after a few minutes he came out of his room, grumbling. "They're stuck."
"So? Cut them off."
"NO WAY." Oh, Mello. So unreasonable. "These are real leather. They were really expensive, and they're my only pair."
"Whaddya want me to do about it?"
"Isn't it obvious? Get over here and pull my pants down!" My heart skipped a beat. I'll admit that it wasn't the context that I'd hoped to hear those words in, but still, here was Mello, asking me to pull his pants down?! Without hesitating, I was frantically trying to pull down those pants. They were even tighter then I'd expected. I couldn't even fit one finger in. Yes, I know how wrong that sounds. it was a wonder that Mello had even gotten into these in the first place. "Argh, geez, what are you doing? You aren't even trying."
"They're too tight." Then, I blurted out the most perverted thing ever "bend over the table."
"WHAT?"
"Er... it'll help..." I couldn't take it back now. Mello, who seemed to value his pants more than his dignity, bent over the table and rested his head on his arms, his ass looking even hotter than usual. Not that I looked at it a lot. I went back to trying to shove my hands down his pants, something I can fairly say I enjoyed doing.
"Stop rubbing my ass and get them off already" growled Mello, getting more annoyed by the moment. Maybe the front was looser. I attempted slipping a few fingers in between the leather and his skin, and ended up with my entire hand stuck down his pants. "MATT, GET YOUR FUCKING HAND OUT OF MY PANTS." He arched his back and leaned against me. That wasn't helping at all.
"I CAN'T! JUST RELAX AND BEND BACK OVER!" I felt my face getting hot. "AND WHY THE HELL AREN'T YOU WEARING ANY UNDERWEAR?"
"I COULDN'T GET THE PANTS ON IF I DID."
"SO YOU KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN?!"
"NO, IT'S JUST THAT..." Mello bit his lip "I never wear underwear."
"Never?"
"Yeah, yeah. What's so weird about that?" Then he remembered where my hand was. "AND STOP FUCKING MOLESTING ME, MATT."
I bit my lip, expecting to get my nose broken. Mello certainly wasn't happy, and the face he made when I told him that my hand was stuck clearly spelled my doom. "Are you sure that I can't cut them? You could get them fixed."
Mello was blushing pretty hard. It was the first time I'd seen him like this, ready to admit defeat. He bent over the table and grumbled "... fine." I got out a pair of scissors and made as neat a cut as I could, just big enough for Mello to get them off. He quickly ran off to bed before giving me an angry stare, and didn't talk to me for days afterwards. He ended up getting the pants fixed, and went back to wearing them as soon as he got them back from the tailor.
So in short, I hate the pants for starting this whole thing. If it wasn't for those pants, Mello wouldn't have gotten mad at me.
Yet, I got to touch Mello.
Who wouldn't want to do that?
I love those pants.