ahem, i'm wary 'bout posting this because, well, it's essentially embarrassingly plotless smut? and not even very wonderful smut? i've written much better things.
not only is it in second person, but it alternates between Matt and then Mello's perspective, but it shouldn't be too confusing. ^^;; uhm, constructive crit, your two cents or even reasonable flaming would be appreciated :D thankyou muchly!
It's heat, heat that melts your senses into one screaming chorus of overstimulation, heat that strips you down to helpless, wanton need.
And Mello loves it.
.
He thinks you can stop, or wants to think it – oh, but there are more moments than you'll admit when you step out of coherency and into spiralling senseless pleasure. Moments when you disconnect and all that is real is Matt and this rush, this rush you can't name but that fills you and fuels you and turns you into something else entirely.
You think that Matt can see it, in your eyes, the shift from Mello the ice cold, brilliantly terrorizing to something sensually savage.
.
Your eyes water, but the tears don't spill and suddenly the world is careening away from you – you're losing your mind, or something. You watch your coherency dismantling itself into gasps and moans and whorish keening.
You're falling, or the walls are moving, or everything's tearing apart and leaving you stranded in space and time surrounded by unimaginable sensation. Raw. Mello looks every bit as lost as you, every bit as lustful, and when he fucks you now it's literally the most exquisite pain.
.
Matt's eyes are rolling back and finally fluttering shut, face contorted in what might be fear or desire or hate, his body shuddering spasmodically, falling limp, then wracked – and you're slipping, letting go, losing to the screaming, vicious sex that has you both addicted.
.
A far-away part of your mind wonders, uselessly, whether Mello has any control but you don't care, because you'd probably die if he stopped this. This, whatever it is, too cruel for sex, too breathtaking for torture – you don't know who could ever call it love – this sick, sublime pastime of yours is transcendental. Too many emotions in too short a time, but through the muddled haze you know for sure that whatever this is, you both need it.
The galaxy can be combusting into supernovae right this moment but jesus motherfucking christ you don't don't care if Mello fucks you like this –
And you know how rats with electrodes implanted in their brains can electrocute themselves to reach that switch to make those electrodes zing.
They probably don't know why any more than you do, but it hardly matters when Mello is looking at you like that and something in your chest expands, something beautiful.
And you love it beyond comprehension.