It was hot. It was so hot and everything burned, and Mello thought he was going to die here if he didn't turn the air conditioning on soon. Had anyone else been there, they probably would've delighted in pointing out that it was Mello's fault for running around in leather, and Mello himself would've delighted in putting a cap in their ass.
He kicked off his remaining boot with a groan and stumbled out of the entry with all the speed one can muster when they are literally melting. There was a moment where Mello thought he was going to trip over the coffee table and bust his head open on the corner of the couch, but he caught himself and continued to the window where the old-as-fuck air conditioning unit lie, switched off and entirely unproductive. He hardly wasted any time fixing this.
After the cool wind started blowing, Mello lingered longer than he should have, letting the sweat dry on his chest and face. Fuck Los Angeles, he thought with venom, and its bipolar weather. Speaking of bipolar, where was the brat? It was a rare occasion for Mello to find the living room empty upon arrival. Usually the stagnant smell of cigarettes would be replaced by the husky smoke of a lit one, and the room would be a little bit heavier with its presence. However, Mello's question wasn't really a question, because the creaky pipes above his head indicated the exact location of the brat in question. The real question plaguing Mello's mind was whether or not he should seek out Matt, or wait to be sought instead.
While it was tempting to let Jeevas come to him, as a sort of payback for not waiting up for Mello in the first place, it had been a really, really long job and he had gross amounts of sweat trickling down his back. A shower sounded heavenly. Mello took off one glove and trailed his fingers along the wall as he headed further into the flat. As he got closer to the bathroom, it was easier to hear the off-key humming from its direction. Unbelievable. What a dork.
The bathroom door was notorious for its creaking, often the cause of one of Mello's fits, when in the middle of the night Matt decided he had to go, and quit being a pussy, Mello, go back to sleep. There was no way now that Mello could enter unheard, but the humming never stopped, even after the door was closed behind him.
The yellowing wallpaper and peeling linoleum were not exactly the epitome of high-living, but it felt more like home than the decidedly cleaner motels Mello had been sleeping in for the past three weeks. In fact, he even smirked when he saw the dried toothpaste that graced the sink. Yeah, it was good to be back. He tossed his boxers over the back of the toilet where the rest of his clothing lay folded neatly. He pulled back the shout curtain and a puff of steam escaped, and finally, the humming stopped.
Matt gave a tiny start as the skinny but powerful arms wrapped around his chest. He had heard Mello come in, hell, he'd heard his entire journey through the apartment, as punctuated with profanity and stomping it had been. Mello walked with all the purpose of a predator, but ended up sounding more like an elephant on the worn floors. Matt sighed and leaned back into the touch as thin lips murmured a tiny "hey" against his neck. He would've replied with an equally small greeting, if at that point Mello hadn't used his relaxed stance as a means to flip them around and put himself under the water. Instead, Matt's "hey" was more of a "Hey!", but Mello's pleased chuckle extinguished most of his frustration and he turned to face him.
"Asshole," he whispered as he moved his hands down to Mello's hips. There was a long moment of silence in the shower, before Mello pulled away from him again and began to shampoo his hair. It was Matt's turn to wrap himself around Mello, maybe a little clingy, but he'd be damned if he cared. He was too preoccupied with tracing bony hips with his fingernails and planting wet kisses on Mello's shoulder blades. It had been a while, and he had rights.
Mello stiffened as spidery fingers smoothed over his stomach and turned to face the perpetrator.
"Fucker, did I say you could touch me?"
"No." Suddenly there were hands on his ass and a mouth on his neck and Mello would not moan, no fucking way. He grabbed Matt's jaw and forced him to look up.
"Then 'the hell do you think you're doing?" He backhanded Matt with all the effort of someone who hadn't gotten laid in a month and had just been felt up in the shower by their significant other, and turned back to his conditioner.
Despite the slap, Matt was feeling a hell of a lot better than usual, and his face lit up with a cheeky grin. He stood back for a moment and appreciated the way the muscles in Mello's back tightened and released as he ran his fingers through his hair. He waited patiently until Mello uncapped the soap with a click before closing in. Matt got as close to Mello as possibly without coming into actual contact and bit down lightly on Mello's ear before whispering, "Need help with that?"
Mello scoffed, "Pig," but he guided Matt's hands back down to his sudsy hips and leaned backwards into him without further comment.
Matt took his time, making sure to actually get Mello clean. He scrubbed Mello's sides and back and gently rubbed the soap into his hands and neck, able to physically feel him unwind in his arms. The pipes gave a groan of protest and suddenly the water was cool. Matt tugged them backwards and waited.
"Okay."
Matt gave a breathy puff of excitement and slowly started massaging Mello's thighs. As he zeroed in on his true target, Mello let out something that could've been described as a gasp, if it weren't Mello who had done it. His right hand flew up so he could bite on his finger, and his left rested comfortably on Matt's forearm as it rocked slowly, back and forth against the skin of his hip.
The water was warm again but neither one cared,said anything. The air was punctuated with Matt's low hums of contentment. It had been so long since he'd been able to work Mello's cock like this. He had missed it's thickness in his palm, and the way he could make it harden and throb for him.
No other dick quite like it, he thought to himself and laughed internally before refocusing on the task at hand.
Heh. Hand.
Matt accidentally snorted, and when Mello gave a displeased groan he quickly buried his face in the proffered neck and redoubled his efforts.
There was another comfortable silence in the shower, only the slick noises Matt's hand made on his cock to be heard. Mello groaned again as Matt did that thing with his thumb and
Oh hell.
I missed you I missed you I missed you I-
He shuddered, and Matt waited for all the spunk to wash down the drain before turning the shower off and licking Mello's jizz off his fingers.
"Revolting." Mello peeled back the shower curtain and stepped away from him. He stole the towel Matt had obviously left on the counter for himself and exited the bathroom, leaving the door open behind him.
Fuck that's cold. Mello must have turned on the air conditioner; all the heat was sucked from the bathroom immediately. Matt hurried to grab a towel from under the sink, but the grin fell from his face as he was met with an empty cupboard.
"Motherfucker!" he roared. He shook his hair out like a dog and skidded through the apartment to hunt down the last clean towel.
Mello cracked one eye and peered out into the darkness. The clock on the bedside table read three am. He voiced his displeasure and moved onto his side. Matt's face was illuminated in the faint glow of his DS. Matt swore lowly, trying not to wake up Mello. Too late, fucking idiot.
Instead of telling him so, Mello remained mute and blearily sized Matt up. At some point he must've gotten up and found a pair of boxers. If Mello wasn't so exhausted, he'd be disappointed. Instead he remained satisfied with the view provided by Matt's leg resting up on the desk and his nimble fingers dancing across his machine. He watched the minute changes in expression as Matt fought his way through the game. Probably something new, judging by the rigid way he held himself in the chair.
Mello made sure not to linger on Mail's face for too long, not wanting to make his own consciousness known, or startle him. Instead he contemplated the freckles on the boy's shoulders, and the way they faded into the pale plane of his chest.
And for the first time in a month, Mello smiled.
Notes: Well, here it is. The original OTP, the original fanfiction, and the original smut. Edited and reposted because my ff account really shouldn't exist anymore.
Alternatively titled, 'Is That Supposed to be Coldplay?'