The door clicked as I slid my key in and turned it, and then it was taken out and put back under the doormat. That was where the key to the apartment lived. Mello said that I'd be safe under there, as no one would be stupid enough to check under the mud crusted mat that greeted everyone into Mello's den, as he liked to call it. Yes, I understand he's a genius and all, but; if any of the mafia wanted him dead they'd smash through the window. And I really don't think a doormat was going to stump Near for long - that is if he wanted to break into our flat in the first place. Other than that it was a damn good hiding place. It'd fooled me a few too many times.

Just before I walk into that greeting smell of second-hand smoke; I'll forget to wipe my feet on that goddamn mat so Mello has something to bitch about later. I love it when he gets angry. He gets violent after a while too – like a hormonal teenager – but still, a few smashed plates are a small price to pay for that make-up sex; it's the best kind, after all.

And anyway, I'm back early from work so he'll have more time to play with me. He's so kinky it's funny. I'm not complaining though, I like it all the same.

He better be happy that I'm home. I'm never usually let out from work until late... I wonder what he does when I'm not around. Ah well. Don't really wanna think about that anyway.

"Mels?" Click. Door shuts and yet no sign of Mello. He usually comes in leaps and bounds when I come back. I get and hug and a kiss and everything. Well, that's what I like to see it as. It's more of a grunt and tired shuffle then a half-arsed hug. On good days I'll get a, 'you brought me chocolate, yeah?'

But he's not come running yet. He must be out shopping for leather, or chocolate or more of those weird things he likes. Nevertheless, I'll take a look around for him.

It's then that I walk past my bedroom. There's loud moans coming from in there, and I'm pretty sure I'm not in there jacking off right now. I open the door slightly, and pop my head around only to be blinded.

Looks like I found Mello.

He's sitting on my bed in one of my black and red striped t-shirts, along with my spare pair of goggles over his tightly shut eyes. He's got my boots and gloves on – my jeans too. I opened the door to watch what he's doing.

His hands are moving rather rapidly over his chest and belly, and his mouth is open and releasing a series of pleasured moans. I'm just standing there with my jaw dropped slightly as those skilled hands snake down to a rather large and rounded lump in his – or should I say, my, trousers. Oh, I get it. He's feeling himself up in my clothes. What a bitch.

"Mello!" I half-shouted, although I had to secretly admit that I did kinda like the sight of Mello doing: this. Even a blind man could see that my Mello was very sexy in my striped tee.

I nearly burst out laughing as his eyes flew open and looked at me, all bewildered and shocked, his hands on his chest – frozen in mid-motion. It looked even better in the usual orange hue.

"Matt." He said all too calmly for the current situation. He looked like a deer in the headlights.

We must have stood there for a few minutes in total silence, until he added, "You're home early."