Disclaimer: I do NOT own any of these characters; they are from Death Note, which belongs to T. Ohba and T. Obata.
2nd Disclaimer: The lyrics included in this fic are from the song "What do you want from me?" / "Whataya want from me?" (however you like it lol) by ADAM LAMBERT. None of the lyrics belong to me.
Anyway :) this story isn't extremely graphic but the concept is dark and not suitable for young'uns. So if you don't think you can handle this please don't read it!
Enjoy !
What do you want from me?
Hey, slow it down…
I closed my eyes.
I had to pretend that I wasn't scared shitless of him.
I opened them.
His blonde locks were darkened and unruly, glinting a crude gold under the dim lights. The smell of blood and sweat was present in the thick summer air, lingering on his leather.
He usually tried to disguise it with eau-de-vie, but today… I guess he couldn't be bothered.
I closed them again.
My game face was foolproof by this time of my life.
Stoic, calm, collected.
But right then, I was trying so hard to keep my bare stomach from trembling noticeably.
What do you want from me?
He inched closer, I could feel it, and though he didn't say anything I knew he wanted me to look at him. His gaze burnt through my eyelids, a skill he had picked up from infancy.
So my eyes snapped open.
He was in a rage today.
A few hours before I had been loosening up my body; trying to meditate, rest, relax, so it could handle what was coming.
You'd think after a certain number of times I'd be used to it by now.
But my body immediately tensed at the sight of his visage – teeth bared, eyes demonic and boring into me, without actually looking at me.
He had problems. So many.
I knew he had anger problems. I always knew.
Yeah, I'm afraid… so what do you want from me?
I tried to admire the beauty about him, the beauty hidden by that angst and pain that he wore too often.
Hair beautifully blonde and soft, catlike oceanic irises, and smooth, browning skin…
It's hard, but when I think about that it lifts the tension slightly.
I know who he really is. I understand him.
What do you want from me?
He tore off my shirt with one strong hand, my pants with the other.
The same hands that handled guns and weapons of all kinds, that killed ruthlessly, that carried the blood of innocent.
That's not who he is.
It's just a façade.
Letting his weight fall on me, I let my hands fall to his waist.
"It's okay," I whispered into the shell of his ear.
And instantly, his mouth was on mine. He bit my bottom lip with his razor teeth, sucking relentlessly.
Broken, rough nails dragging across my legs, stomach, back, scalp…
Within a second I found myself slammed into the wall, left with no space to breathe as he was pressed against my chest.
He was in a rage today.
There might've been a time where I would give myself away…
I allowed him to bite my neck, keep me pinned, to use me because I always let him.
He brought down my boxers.
Spun me around, rammed me into the wall where my cheek found its company.
The temperature difference came as a shock, for my body was on fire and the wall was like ice.
I heard him unzip his pants quickly, panting from the sudden exertion, and in a second he gripped my hips, and entered me.
I feel pain.
Pleasure may come but it's mainly masked.
Pleasure hasn't come recently.
Oh, once upon a time, I didn't give a damn…
He groaned loudly at the steady rhythm he was setting, which of course is too fast for me, because it always is.
I only moaned softly, biting my lip and holding my lungs together to suppress the sounds I really feel like making.
I never even realize anymore when the tears fall down my numbing face.
His lips fell to the nape of my sweaty neck, and in that spot I felt him.
For a fleeting moment in this frenzy, I felt what he really is. The monster subsided and I felt him.
And he thrust, and thrust, my bones feeling as if they would shatter against the cold, hard wall.
Finally, he comes, and his body relaxes.
Mine isn't relaxed.
But now, here we are… so what do you want from me?
"Hard day?" I mumbled, trying not to sound bitter.
He didn't answer, and instead fell into the bed in the middle of the room.
It's the hugest bed I've ever seen, and yet he insists on the fucking wall.
I crawled in with him, finding a moment's comfort in relaxing my back against the soft mattresses and finding sanctuary under the heavy covers.
After a minute, he put an arm around me.
What do you want from me?
"I'm sorry," he whispered, as he whispers every time, tears clenching his throat.
I smile every time. It's a worn, exhausted half smile but it's one nonetheless.
"It's okay."
Just don't give up, I am working it out…
And when he presses a full, desperately rueful kiss upon my swelled lips, I'm reassured. You may say I'm twisted, but in that one moment that he kisses me you can be sure to God that I'm reassured.
Please don't give in, I won't let you down…
He kisses my cheek, my neck, my lips again, each time more slowly.
It messed me up, need a second to breathe…
"Hard day," he answered through our breaths.
My hands rest at his waist lightly.
Though I can feel new bruises blossoming over the old ones, I don't seem to mind.
Just keep coming around, hey, what do you want from me?
When I cringe at the pain, he holds me closer.
What do you want from me?
He repeats, "Matt…I'm sorry."
What do you want from me?
And though I shouldn't forgive him, I always do.
"It's okay, Mello."
Because I love him.
And I accept him.
Isn't that what love is about?
Aww, poor Matty.
I know, this is kind of a weird concept... we all know Mello is an angry one but this is kind of more extreme than that. It's kind of to show that he's so conflicted and has to deal with so much, what with the mafia and competing with Near and all that stuff in his sucky life that the monster within him comes out and he takes it out on Matt, who loves him no matter what.
I wrote this after being angry at someone for not accepting me and somehow this story came to mind xD
Tell me what you think!
3Z