A.N.: Here I am again with something a little different. :3 I love Matt. He's one of my favorite Death Note characters, and this little drabble hit me randomly earlier this morning, so why not write it? Don't forget to review! We fanfiction authors love that, believe it or not! As lame as it sounds, it makes my day. X3
Disclaimer: I'll admit that I should not own Death Note. If I did it'd be... Crack!yaoi, probably.
I can't imagine a time where masturbation without Mello even existed. Every woman I'd ever fantasized about from adolescence to now had to hold some sort of physical trait that he just so happened to possess. There was the nearly yellow hair in that ridiculous bowl cut, making me somehow partial to blondes. Those insane, dark eyes that show any and every hint of annoyance or amusement and draw me in with an effortless glance. That condescending sneer of a smile that he uses when he is right-- and he usually is, save for with his polar opposite and most "hated" rival. Finally, all of them tasted like that painfully familiar, bittersweet chocolate.Back in Wammy's I told myself it was a phase. Guys didn't get hard for their best friends no matter how feminine they may make appear. I'd grow out of it once I found someone else to picture fucking.
Nearly ten years later and here I am, stuck in the same phase, the same complex...
Except this time masturbation isn't all that necessary.