Fragrance
With Mello, the smell of chocolate is inescapable. It's something as permanent as the scar that marrs his pale skin, and it's just as appealing to the boy who sits near him, wrapping lanky arms around the slim figure: sniffing the crook of his neck, delighted to find that it still smells distinctly like Mello. Matt is all the more thankful for the unique scent since the day Mello came to ask his help, smelling like smoke and blood and fire.
But Mello is not something you can sit and sniff at all day; Mello is someone who moves and screams, someone who can't stand or sit still too long, someone with independence but desperate need. Mello doesn't let Matt investigate too far, always stopping him with fiery bites on his neck and restless hands crawling over his jeans. He doesn't mind for the moment, of course, sinking down into the haven of chocolate that is Mello, but he later regrets it. The mystery of Mello, he thinks, is something he wants to solve. He would be the first.
Matt is patient, and waits like a cat, swishing his tail as he watches and examines. He has waited for years, and waiting a few more days won't kill him. The day comes, suddenly, and Matt doesn't falter when Mello doesn't pull away. His face nuzzles the soft skin of Mello's stomach, and he inhales, memorizing every fragrance and curve. The honey-haired boy clings to Matt as though the world is ending, for for a moment, Matt thinks it is.
He moves down, and although Mello squirms, he doesn't stop the curious nose and lips. Pale hands tighten their grip on Matt's chocolate hair; ragged but beautiful noises escape usually-smirking lips; hips twist in inexplicable emotion.
Hours later, Matt is finally satisfied, one pale arm hooked over a tan waist. Golden hair brushes his nose, smelling of all that is Mello: something that Matt no longer wonders about.