"Matt."
It was hot outside, and the humid, suffocating air weighed down the atmosphere of their skanky motel room. Matt had thrown both windows open an hour ago, when the air conditioner finally crapped out on them. But the wheezing, sputtering thing hadn't done them much good to begin with, so he supposed the windows were better. It was hot as hell and the city streets sizzled, wafting odors of melting tar, overheated carburetors and too much gasoline.
"Matt, let's go for a ride."
Mello was sprawled on his back across the tattered bedspread of the queen they'd agreed to share. Matt's fingers tapped lazily at the buttons of his handheld game, and he paused it to glance over at Mello. Mello had one arm thrown over his eyes, as if to shield himself from the glare on the tin roof of the storage bin; it crouched in the alley outside their window.
That was Mello. Lying clad in all his badass leather get-up, picking at the waistline of his pants where he was sweaty and sticky and probably wondering why he was too tired to move.
"If you're hot, Mello, maybe you should ditch that vest or something."
Mello lifted his pale arm to glare at him through one eye. "Don't be stupid. Did you hear me? I said I want to go for a ride."
Matt rose lazily from his chair, trying to ignore the way his jeans peeled free of the seat like they'd been plastered there. He grimaced. His game beeped at him, but suddenly he had no energy for shooting lasers at pixilated monsters. He'd beaten the damn level thirty four times already, anyway.
Matt tossed the handheld on top of his bag, kicking the whole lot aside as he moved to sit gingerly on the bed by Mello's hip. "It's so fucking hot."
Mello rolled his eyes. "I know, you asshole. That's what I've been trying to tell you."
Matt flexed his fingers, fascinated by the smoothness of his own hands. His gloves were there next to his bag, flopped side-by-side on the floor and looking desolate. And there were his goggles, in a heap of tinted orange lenses and adjustable straps. He felt exposed. Like the heat had forced him to shed his protective layer, despite his determination not to cave. His red hair was damp and slicked to his forehead, and he ruffled it with a growl of irritation.
"This is fucking ridiculous."
Mello shifted and rolled to one side, though the move looked like it took him more effort than he wanted to exert. His white skin glistened, and the scars that wove downward from his face to his shoulder shimmered with a wet gleam. Matt suppressed the urge to trace his gloveless fingertips over the markings.
"If it makes you feel better," Mello said, "You fucking turn me on when you're sweaty like that."
Matt snorted. Mello must have gone loopy in the high temperature.
Eventually Matt allowed his lips to curve into a grin around his cigarette. He hadn't lit it though, because the thought of even the smallest flame in the midst of their heat crisis made him squirm.
"You know," Matt ventured, removing the cigarette from his mouth and leaning in to where Mello breathed shallowly, "If we go for a ride, we have to deck out in our riding gear. Won't that be worse than staying here in minimal clothing?"
Mello sneered. "No, you fool. Because at least there'll be a breeze if we're moving." But he didn't protest when Matt slid his fingers along his slick midriff, over the contours of his hips and down along his leg.
Matt felt Mello move beneath him, shift so that Matt could swing his other leg over and rest on top. His motions were slow, languid, distorted by heat-induced exhaustion and yet tense with the need to feel Mello's skin and taste Mello's lips. Mello let out a sigh of pleasure, opened his mouth when Matt implored him with his tongue. What else was there to do besides lie there, run their hands all over each other and shudder in delight when the heat only seemed to sensitize and heighten their contact?
Mello lifted his hips, and Matt groaned as he felt pressure where his desire was pooling. Mello's lips were pliant but resistant at the same time; his tongue was slick and perilous and commanding. Matt wanted more, he wanted less, he wanted a challenge and yet he wanted Mello to submit. He wanted Mello on top of that bed in nothing but his rosary and those pointy leather boots, all shining white skin and enticing lines.
Suddenly Mello lurched to a sitting position, seizing Matt by the hair and biting down on his lower lip with a ferocity that sent Matt teetering backward. With the help of Mello's unexpected shove, Matt went tumbling off the edge of the bed and onto the dirty hardwood floor.
"You're god damned dangerous," Mello panted, donning his gloves and seizing his sunglasses in an effort to distract himself.
"Yeah, you're right," Matt agreed, rubbing the elbow that was probably bruised as he picked himself up. "We'll never get anything done if I keep seducing you this way."
Mello growled something unintelligible, and Matt pulled on his own heavy gloves and snapped his goggles into place.
"Hurry up," Mello said. He was perched at the window, one leg up on the sill and poised to climb through.
"Relax," Matt replied, lacing his boots up carefully. "Have some chocolate."
"The fucking shit melted."
"Really? God damn."
Matt strode across to where Mello crouched at the sill, and to his surprise, Mello reached out and fisted a handful of Matt's shirt to tug him forward for a sloppy, lust-ridden kiss. Matt fought down the waves of pleasure that resulted. He swore sometimes Mello did it on purpose.
And then Mello was gone, with an energy that had come from nowhere. Down the fire escape and clomping in his leather and chains toward the dumpster behind which Matt had stowed his bike. His bike, yes – because even though Mello had agreed to help him pay off the loans, the damned thing belonged to Matt. He just let Mello ride it everywhere.
Sometimes it was hard to tell which he cared about more, though – the motorcycle or Mello. If the goggles and gloves that Matt never took off were any indication of which won out in the end, he'd have to say the answer was obvious. Then again, Mello proved to be just as much of an addiction as the bike did. Matt sprung off the last steps of the fire escape and raced Mello to the prize with the intent of winning.
"I'm driving," Matt said as he jumped an old crate and beat Mello to the hiding place. He closed his hands around the shiny silver handlebars and guided the vehicle around the piles of black garbage bags and cigarette butts.
"You always drive it," Mello gritted, jamming his sunglasses on in a manner that made Matt laugh.
"It's my bike. And you always drive the car, when you aren't making love to my bike behind my back," he said, mounting with an eagerness that washed away the last traces of weariness he'd felt while cooped in their motel room.
"If you want me to start fucking the motorcycle instead of you, I'm sure I can arrange it."
"Can't we switch places one day?"
"Maybe."
Mello climbed on behind him, pressing himself against Matt's back. His arms snaked around Matt's waist, and with that, the roar of the engine drowned out the noise of the city and they rocketed onto the main road.
Matt hadn't worn a helmet. They only had one anyway, and he'd offered it to Mello, who had refused with a sneer and hopped on. It was too hot for safety precautions, and Matt was glad he'd forgone the head protection when he felt the wind whipping his damp hair off his face. It felt good, almost as good as Mello's arms wrapped around him, and he couldn't help but grin.
"What the hell are you so smug about, Matt?" Mello sounded grouchy over the noisy buzz of sound.
Matt didn't bother to ask how Mello knew he was smiling when they couldn't see each other's faces. "It was a good idea to take a ride," he answered. Mello's grip on him tightened and he suppressed a shudder of pleasure at the touch.
"Just don't crash us," Mello gritted. "You suck at driving this thing and I can't see to help you steer around pedestrians."
Matt nearly choked on his laugh. He glanced behind him at the blonde on the back as they blew through a traffic light. Mello's unprotected eyes were streaming from the velocity at which they traveled – regular sunglasses didn't quite do the job - and his hair was whipping his face without mercy.
"Should have worn the helmet, Mello." And with that, Matt revved the engine and sped off at a pace that would have given any grandma a heart attack worthy of Kira. Mello let out a panicked hiss and squeezed Matt harder.
The motorcycle careened around the corner by the drugstore Matt went to for his cigarettes, and for a moment the redhead was tempted to stop. There was a back alley on the other side, one that Matt severely would have liked to lure Mello into at that instant. They'd been there once before; Mello had been pressed against the dirty brick, Matt's hands digging at his hips, and they'd fought to keep quiet so the store owner wouldn't hear them. Matt remembered Mello's face then, the heavy flush and half-lidded eyes. Maybe they'd stop off on the way back, get Matt a new pack of cigarettes and Mello some chocolate that wasn't melted, and then they'd sneak outside to christen the alley again.
Mello's fingertips furrowed into his skin. "Don't even think about it," the blonde hissed, and Matt responded by hiding a grin and accelerating to a speed that defied all lawful restrictions.
He took them onto the highway, away from the congestion of boiling city streets. At last Mello seemed to relax; his grip loosened and he sat back while Matt veered into the left hand lane and began to cruise at a comfortable speed. The highway was straight and wide, a strip of black that narrowed ahead of them until it was a speck on the shimmering horizon. The scenery on either side fled past like a blurred painting, and Matt concentrated on the feeling of the tar beneath the tires, the pressure of the wind as it met him full on. A tiny chill shimmied up his spine. His body was cooling down and his sweaty clothes were drying.
He felt alive. He felt like Kira and the notebook were distant and trivial, like Near and the SPK didn't matter. It was just the bike and the road and Mello. Mello, still holding on to him from behind. Mello, leaning over to nibble Matt's ear and nearly making Matt swerve into the guardrail at the unexpected contact.
"If you think I suck at driving now, keep doing that and see what happens," he quipped. His voice came out a hoarse yell over the volume of the engine, and he wasn't sure if Mello heard him.
They drove until the road signs started to flash names of places they didn't recognize. Matt pulled over at a rest stop, squinting in the glare of the setting sun. The motorcycle made clicking noises as it cooled, and he dismounted, grateful that the air was breathable now.
"You think it's time to head back?" he asked.
Mello didn't answer. His leather pants creaked as he leaned against the dormant bike. He blended perfectly – Mello and the bike were both sleek, black, and enticing. The blonde male standing there made a picture worthy of some flashy magazine, and Matt couldn't tear his eyes away. Maybe he should just let Mello keep the god damned bike. He looked a hell of a lot better next to it.
"What?" Mello eyed him suspiciously.
"You're hot," Matt said. "Almost as hot as my bike, I'd say."
Mello pushed himself away from the gleaming metal and took a step forward. "I'm a great deal hotter than that hunk of junk, and you know it."
Matt released a tiny breath of air and unfolded his arms. "Yeah, I guess you are." He grabbed Mello by the back of the head and crushed their lips together.
Mello let out a sweetened moan; he'd been caught by surprise. Matt moved them until Mello was sitting on the bike's leather seat. He leaned over and rested one hand on the handlebar, the other at Mello's neck. He kissed Mello hard, stealing the breath from both of them and silently communicating the elation that intoxicated him. The bike ride, Mello, and the freedom of the open road. It was perfect. Mello folded beneath him and tore himself away with some difficulty.
"Matt, we'll never get back if we don't stop, you idiot."
"Can't help it," Matt breathed, planting a steaming kiss on the other male's neck, "Stop looking so damn good." But he let Mello go, and the blonde climbed back onto the motorcycle and gripped the handlebars.
"My turn."
Matt glared at where Mello now occupied the driver's place, then turned to the rear seat and grumbled before hopping on. "Cheap trick."
Mello ignored his comment. "When we get back, let's have another go at the air conditioner."
"You have a go. I've got monsters to slaughter on my PSP."
"Jackass."
"Pansy."
The seat vibrated as Mello started the engine. Matt tried his hardest to wipe the smile off his face, but to no avail. He couldn't remember why he'd felt so unmotivated earlier that day. Sure, it'd been hot as hell, but with Mello around, he really didn't have much to complain about. Perhaps he'd tamper with the air condition to make sure they'd never fix it, and they'd take another ride tomorrow. Or finish what they'd started on the bed.
"Mello," he said, and Mello grunted in acknowledgement but kept his eyes on the road. Matt couldn't remember what he'd been going to say.
He rested his forehead on Mello's shoulder and closed his eyes, feeling without seeing as they zipped back toward their motel. Mello was one hell of a ride, all right. Maybe Matt preferred him over the bike after all.
A/N: I've got this awesome beta, Jiia-chan, for all my Death Note stories, but I haven't been able to get in contact with her! So this was the un-edited version, if you will, and when she comes back from being MIA, I'll put up the corrected version. I just... desperately wanted to post something Matt/Mello NOW, because I promised it when I got back from vacation. So I was hasty. FORGIVE ME!