Title: Misguided Monsters and Tainted Children
Summary: Mello's intent was to taint a child... but the outcome was something he never could have predicted. MxM
Disclaimer: I don't own DN or anything referenced.
Author's Note: Well... erm, this is where I babble unintelligibly before I start writing. So, eh, just keep in mind that it probably needs (but won't receive because I'm laaay-zeee) editing.
DEADICATED TO: MY MELLO! (HAPPY ONE-MONTH-IVERSARY!) I seriously put effort into this! *lame dance is lame* (Seriously, 8/8/13 is the 1 month marker for me and MY Mello!)
WARNING: Here there be SHOTA! Adult Mello x Child Matt. It is RATED M for a reason!
…
Time ticked on like clockwork- no pun intended. Some moments dragged along like a bloodied corpse along the asphalt, and others sped faster than a bullet from the chamber of a loaded gun.
Time was fickle and flaky and overwhelmingly insufficient to measure understanding and readiness.
Mello knew this, having been just a kid when he'd seen death at first hand and taken a life in turn. Some days, he could recall it so vividly: the stench of decay and copper and gunpowder, the feeling of residue chalking his hands with evidence of what he'd done.
But most days, he thought better of reminiscing.
Then there were days like today- days when his darkest hours and highest virtues collided into a mess of intoxication, and he was compelled to act on the whim of his inner sadist.
Because he was, by no means, a masochist. He'd betray a handshake for punch any day; there was no need for pleasant formalities in the life he lived. So he did everything with brute force and cunning. It was all he knew, all he needed, and all he had.
And yet he found himself in a place he hadn't been in years.
If he had to describe the place, he might use words like: hell, prison, and home. If he had to pick a color - any color – he'd have no choice but to pick white.
White exterior with large pillars and a turret. An abundance of windows, small balconies, and an architectural mold fit for any wealthy Victorian style home from the 1950's. And the interior... was equally bland. Everything varying in shades of white or stainless steel, checkered floor tiles and simple wooden doors with shiny brass knobs.
Repetition and duplication is what was preached within those walls, and that alone would spell out the outlandish future of the blonde orphan turned assassin.
As a child, forced into a place of intelligence and conformity, it was only natural for him to desire freedom and over compensate for lost individuality.
He became the kind of monster he used to hate. Now he sees monsters in every one. Because even the virgin Mary has dirty secrets and desires that make her impure. And his own inner monster craves little more than to exploit that.
And so, he found himself back at Wammy's House. Leathered from neck to foot, arms and stomach bare and a rosary worn for spite, he reeked of disaster. His chocolate-scented breath was laced with the silent promise of a nuclear Holocaust. His gloved fingers had a lovingly tender grip on a deadly weapon, and the mind that once craved justice was now focusing on something entirely different.
Provocation and mutilation. Unnecessary vengeance that would forever shun him from the Heaven he was already banned from.
This was what he wanted.
And he always got his way.
Placating his expression into something less sinister, he walked up the aisle of stairs and allowed himself inside, knowing that the door would be unlocked and nobody would give his presence a second thought... because people were always coming and going- strange people, usually to chance a plea for help from the World's Greatest Detective.
Making his way from hall to hall, room to room, and stairwell to stairwell, he found himself exactly where he wanted to be.
Just a simple bedroom like any other... but that particular bedroom held residency of the blonde's target: a redheaded boy with guilty fingers and a craving he refused to acknowledge.
Entering the room, the lights were off and the curtains were drawn, painting the white surroundings a dull shade of grey. The floor was strewn with wires, all corded and tangled messily as their corresponding devices rested on the dresser, the nightstand, atop the bookcase, and even on the headboard of the bed. The bed itself was nearly pristine, blankets and pillows in their proper places, only slightly wrinkled where the room's main occupant rested atop the heap in a deep slumber.
That occupant, so young, not even eleven years old, yet still old enough to be wary of the touch of a carnivorous predator.
The blonde man looked upon the child with apathy, taking in the striking features on display before him.
The tangled nest of red that crowned his head. The pale flesh that needed to be marked. The subtle curves that mapped out blissful temptations on an earthly skeleton.
Innocence radiated off of the boy's small form, and Mello's inner demon began to seep through his pores, morphing him into something grotesque.
A cruel smile tugged between his lips and his eyes danced with mirth as he drew nearer, setting his gun atop the lid of a hibernating laptop and placing a hand on the mop of red, petting none too gently like a villain might do to a demented and mutated pet.
"Heavy sleeper? Of course," he hissed, voice less than an octave above a whisper. "Makes my work... so much easier." Pulling his hand away, and removing both gloves, he set them aside and made quick work of the laces of his pants, tugging the folds and exposing his own devilish manhood, flesh already hard and head as bright as the knob on a joystick.
Carefully sliding onto the bed, he casually grabbed the child by the arm and wrenched him closer, scowling at the lack of reaction. Because the redhead should have been awake, alert, and submitting.
But this failed to matter; if anything, it only fueled the blonde monster to try harder. And so he roughly bunched up the fabric of the child's striped shirt and pulled, forcing the offending article off and growling lowly when even that didn't cause a stir.
"React to me, you little shit," he threatened, but his words fell on deaf ears... though he was most certain that his next endeavor would achieve the desired results.
Glancing around the room briefly, he got up and acquired a few items to incorporate into his plan.
Those items? An Ethernet cable. A roll of multipurpose duct tape. A belt. And a large jawbreaker candy, conveniently placed in a candy bowl.
Once all the necessary items were at hand, he set to work. The cable was used to tightly bind the child's wrists together. Nearly a dozen layers of duct tape ensured that the bind would be held in place, and an additional strip of duct tape was ripped and placed across the redhead's face, starting at one ear and wrapping around to meet the other, effectively blinding both eyes. The belt was loosely looped around the boy's neck for an added kink factor, and the large candy sphere... was tightly wedged into the kid's mouth, being forced behind the teeth and finally alarming the child enough to make him struggle.
But it was too late.
Struggling was useless against the cable binds; he couldn't see; he could breathe through his nose, but he was gagging on something large, hard, and sweet- his tongue wasn't strong enough to force it out of his mouth, and swallowing wasn't an option. He started kicking but his actions were easily halted by a weight that settled over the entirety of his form.
"I'm Mello... and I'm going to show you what you want. Because I know you want it. You're just too scared to get it on your own." The blonde smiled venomously as he sat back on the child's legs and grabbed at the loose denim that encased his lower body, easily pulling it down and exposing cotton boxers printed with Sly Cooper. Smirking, he placed a hand on either side of the redhead's torso, lowering himself so that his mouth barely touched the small bulge hidden by the underwear. "Tell me when to stop," he said teasingly, eyes darkening as he nudged the area with his nose and whispered obscenities, lips brushing against a hardening lump with every slight movement.
In a matter of seconds, the blonde could feel the child writhing beneath him, hear the harsh breaths being expelled from small nostrils.
"Not even a teenager, and you're already a greedy whore. I bet you're starved for the chance to rebel and become your own person. But you won't on your own. So, I'm here... and I'm going to show you how ugly your insides are. You're a monster too, and if not, you'll become one." With those words, Mello's own fingers latched onto the boxers and pulled them down, exposing a small but proud erection, already weeping translucent-white beads of sexuality.
Looking the child over, a thought occurred to the adult, and he voiced the beginnings of what could spell out a new breed of entertainment. "I'm going to ask you a question. It's a yes/no question, so just nod or shake your head." He paused long enough to let the words sink in. Then: "If I release your hands, will you leave the tape over your eyes and comply with what I'm doing?"
Mello expected a number of reactions, most of which would lead him to just leave the child bound and then proceed to steal away whatever innocence could be found, but the reaction he got delighted him.
Calmly, the redhead flexed his fingers and nodded an affirmation.
Of course, Mello wasn't a fool; he was very skeptical, but if the child couldn't see or adequately scream, surely there would be no problem detaining him should retaliation become the intent.
So, with little hesitance, the bindings were carefully removed- the tape was peeled and the cable was loosened until two small hands could slip free. Then, as agreed, no attempt was made to remove the blind or candy gag. Instead, the redhead hugged his arms around himself and waited for whatever would befall him.
"So compliant. I don't know if I like that or not," Mello hissed. "Either you like what I'm doing, or this hellhole has whipped you into an obedient little drone." Anger became the newest chip on the playing field, and he let that fuel his actions further. Both hands had a purpose, one covering the boy's mouth and forcing the jawbreaker in deeper, causing him to choke and squirm; his other hand grabbed the end of the belt and pulled tight, strangling his victim into a panicked stupor of thrashing incoherency. He stopped his assault moments before he was sure the child would lose consciousness; then he simply watched the redhead choke on saliva that he was unable to swallow- some of it dribbling out of his mouth and down his chin. "Good boy. Smart boy. You even know how important your spit is, don't you? If you're lucky, it'll keep me from fucking you raw." Scooping some of the saliva onto his fingertips, Mello forced a digit into the boy, smirking when the boy's face scrunched up and his head jerked from left to right.
Pumping the finger in and out of the tiny hole, it was surprisingly difficult to shove in a second, but the blonde managed, and the redhead released a string of muffled cries around the candy that was still lodged inside his mouth.
Both fingers working to actively scissor and stretch the tight gate of the velvety passage, Mello worked in a third before feeling a telltale wetness.
Surely the child was already stretched to the point of his inner walls starting to bleed. But the blood aided the movements and before long, the fingers were removed and the reddening tip of Mello's cock was placed just outside the puckered entrance.
Grabbing the belt once more, he pulled, simultaneously plowing into a place where no one had ever been before.
This child's inner sanctum had been violated for the first time, and Mello felt a surge of both pleasure and pride and he tightened the belt further and rocked his hips into the boy. He halted his actions only when he felt two hands grip his forearms, nails digging in to express a sense of urgency. He stopped mid-thrust and looked over his victim, finding his face flushed, lips blue, and fruitless gasps struggling for triumph over the belt's hold.
Reluctantly, he not only loosened but completely removed the leather strip and tossed it aside; the buckle clinked against the floor, though the sound was hardly noted.
But what was noted, was the way that hard candy had begun to dissolve and the child skillfully dislodged it from his mouth, spitting it off to the side and gulping in heaps of air.
Motionless, the blonde waited for the kid to scream or cry, but that didn't happen.
Instead, the ten year old boy's grip on the man's forearms tightened and he pulled himself up, wrapping his legs around the blonde's waist and hugging himself close. "F-Finish what you st-started," he stuttered, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against the man's chest. "Don't start something if you don't intend to finish it!" He preached louder than necessary, voice straining through the well of saliva that still lined his throat, thick with sugar and agitating his vocals like a sinus infection. Then, as if to punctuate his demand, he rolled his own hips into Mello's , stifling a pleasured sound as a sense of white hot pressure shot through him, threatening to spill and driving him mad with sensation.
Disbelieving but not disappointed, Mello complied, arms wrapping around the child as he thrust up and into him, driving harder and deeper and drinking in the small moans that the boy emitted.
Feeling himself nearing climax, Mello moved a hand to the edge of the tape that blinded the redhead, and with a slam of his hips angled just right, timed perfectly with the harsh removal of the tape, he was blessed with the sight of wide, manic moss pits, fogged in lust and dilating at the intrusion of dim light as the boy's first orgasm hit. His seed drilled out like a thin rope and coated them both in a silky warm aftermath.
Mello's breath hitched at the sight of those eyes, so pure and perfect that he unsheathed himself from the child before releasing his own sticky essence, afraid to taint the boy more than he already had.
For the first time in his life, regret began to settle over the blonde.
But that regret vanished when he saw the lazy smile on the redhead's face as the kid picked up the forgotten jawbreaker and gave it an innocent lick. "I'm Matt, by the way," he said sweetly, unperturbed by what the blonde was sure classified as rape.
"I'm Mello."
"I know," the redhead said simply, still smiling. He dipped the jawbreaker into the cooling semen and then licked it off, showing no confusion or disgust at anything that had occurred. "If you wanna do this again sometime, I don't mind, but be more original. Like, maybe you're a pizza delivery boy, and I don't have enough money to pay you..."
And it's then that Mello realized... this kid might not be so innocent after all. "That sounds like a bad porno."
"It is! But it's also one of my favorites... -Oh, or you could bring a camera, and- What's this?!" Easily distracted -like most ten year old boys- Matt noticed the gun Mello had brought; he quickly grabbed it and felt the weight in his hands. "This is... real. You totally have to fuck me with it! Make sure it's loaded! Oh, and can we film this?!"
...It was then that Mello decided that maybe – just maybe – the children at Wammy's aren't as oppressed as he initially thought.
…
/... Yep. Words, they fail me. Don't let them fail you too. Review!/