A/N: Okay, okay, so this is what I really wrote for April Fool's. I was going to upload this as a repayment for that horrible piece I uploaded this morning, but hardly anyone read it, so I guess the prank kind of backfired on me. XD
The lovely Saigo was my muse on this one, she helped me out with both this piece and the fake one, brainstorming with me and letting me go on and on about whatever I needed to to keep my fingers moving over the keys.
Much love and thanks to her, and much love to Miyamashi, Blondie-love, and NaomieKeiko for being good sports and reading the fake piece.
Comments are greatly appreciated! Hope everyone had a good April Fool's Day!
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of it's characters. It is the intellectual property of Ohba and Obata.
One-Shot - Serious Reality
Matt imagined if this scenario had gone about like a police interrogation, it might go something like this:
"Do you understand why you are here, Mister Jeevas?"
"Sure, I was looking at porno mags while Mello was out shopping."
"Precisely, and why exactly do you think that that was..." Here would be where the officer would pretend to contemplate for a moment before finally coming up with the term: "...wrong?"
"Well, see, Mello's got this inferiority complex that's bigger than the fucking Atlantic and he doesn't like not being the center of attention, especially my center of attention, since I'm the only one he likes calling him sexy and pretty and those sorts of things. And he doesn't like the idea of me looking at other people, let alone other women, even if I put his face on their bodies, which I was doing in my head."
And then the "bad cop" would grill him about morality and such for a few minutes until his "good cop" partner would go tell him to cool off.
Then Matt would "buckle under the pressure" and "come clean" and admit:
"Look, I haven't been fucked in a week. A guy has needs, especially when you've got a bombshell blond sauntering by wearing nothing but a towel at least once a day."
But, this wasn't a police interrogation, this was reality.
And in this reality, had been shoved onto the mattress and handcuffed to the headboard, Mello standing at the food of the bed with a chillingly calm smile and a maniacal gleam in his eye.
But the cherry on top? That had to be the thigh-high PVC leather stilettos, the silky black panties, and the pink and black lace corset that his lovely blond was wearing at that moment.
Oh, and the riding crop. Yes, the riding crop was a nice touch.
Besides that, he was the perfect recreation of the girl on the centerfold of issue 10, the one with the blond hair and icy blue eyes, the one that looked most like Mello (without the scar of course, but Matt always imagined it where a shadow was cast over the left side of her face).
And the one he liked the most.
Matt definitely preferred reality in this situation.
Mello made the perfect centerfold model, at least for Matt. Commanding, authoritative, erotic as hell.
The woman in the porno magazine was coy, with wide eyes and a confused look, biting down lightly on her index finger in an expression of shy concern. His lover's expression screamed intent, not dimwitted bewilderment and it sent Matt's mind racing with all the possibilities of the kinds of dirty things Mello could possibly have in store for him.
"Look at you," Mello cooed, snapping the crop a few times against his palm. "Vulnerable and helpless...This is quite a situation you've gotten yourself into, Matty."
Matt scoffed. "Me? How in the world could I have handcuffed myself to the bed? Seems like I had to have had some help with that one."
Mello took a quick step forward and Matt jerked against his restraints, startled by the sudden movement. Mello chuckled darkly and brought a knee up onto the bed. "Not so tough, are you?" He trailed the end of the crop along Matt's chest and up to his chin with a wide grin. "Go ahead, keep acting like a smart ass. I want to see how far you dig yourself into this hole."
Matt eyed the whip with a sweet smile. "No thanks, I'm good." Mello climbed further onto the bed to sit back on Matt's legs. He set the crop aside and made to reach for the younger man's pants. "Finally," the gamer breathed out. "Kept me waiting long enough."
But Mello wasn't undoing his belt, he was unhooking the Swiss Army Knife from the carabiniere on Matt's wallet chain. He held the tool in front of Matt's eyes and flipped the blade out. The gamer shrugged. "Eh, I suppose that's alright too."
Mello brought the blade down, close to Matt's pelvis and then slipped the knife under his shirt, pulling up to cut through the material. He made his way up Matt's torso, moving smoothly and sensuously, all the while never laying a hand on his lover.
He wanted this to be perfect, a slow, miserable suffering.
Matt frowned when his shirt had finally been cut open, then sliced through the sleeves so the blond could pull the pieces of the garment off. "This just keeps getting more and more disappointing."
Mello gave a smile that held more threat than any sort of amusement in it. "So, you're saying I'm shit in bed now?"
Matt swallowed back the next cocky comment that had been rising to his lips. He could smell his lover's breath, sweet and heady. He felt his body heat, inches from his bare skin, saw the riding crop out of the corner of his eye.
He wanted this, wanted Mello, he couldn't afford to stick his foot in his mouth now "No, that's not what I meant. You're amazing, baby. Fucking sexy. Best ever. So, how about you fuck me then?"
Mello leaned forward again and, setting the Swiss Army Knife on the night stand, finally laid an open palm in the center of the bare chest before him. "Cute, sweet, innocent, Matt, you naive little thing," he purred deeply, kissing across Matt's face with full, pouty lips that Matt swore had been tinted with just the slightest bit of pink lipstick. He picked the riding crop up again from it's place beside Matt's leg. He kissed the tip of the gamer's nose, leaning back again when the younger teen strained for a real kiss. He snapped the crop against the man's denim covered thigh. He knew it couldn't possibly have hurt, but the noise made Matt's pupils dilate in excitement for a brief moment. "You masochistic whore, you really haven't got a clue what today is, do you?"
Matt paused for a moment to think; Mello was teasing him. The look in his eyes said it all: if he didn't give an answer soon, he was definitely going to be punished for it, and not in a good way.
"It's not your birthday," he blurted out, trying to think and talk at the same time, lest he hit on the right answer accidentally. "It's not my birthday. Not St. Patrick's day, but you don't do anything but get drunk then anyway-"
"No, Matty, you're the one that gets drunk."
"You drink, too, you lightweight. Your cheeks get all cute and red after one beer, though."
Mello was leaning farther back now, threatening to climb off the bed all together. Apparently, teasing and compliments were not going to save Matt's ass now.
"Is it our anniversary?!" Matt asked quickly, sitting up slightly and wincing as his shoulders ached from the strain.
An evil smirk and Mello was all over him, his free hand between his legs, groping and massaging his growing bulge through his jeans. The gamer groaned, throwing his head back. It knocked painfully against the headboard, but the pain quickly dissolved as Mello took to kissing across his chest, up his neck, along his shoulders, into the crook of his elbow, leaving sharp nips along the inside of his arm.
"Matty, Matty, Matty..." he whispered against the soft, skin of his lover's wrist. Matt watched him with heavy breaths, chills racing down his spine as Mello looked up through a fringe of blond hair at him. They were like the eyes of a dangerous beast, predatory and bloodthirsty. "You really can be such an idiot."
"Yeah, I know, love, I fucked up," he mumbled, letting out a groan when Mello straddled him fully and wiggled his hips, creating a deliciously light friction between them. "I swear, I'll never look at another dirty magazine again. I'll burn them all, shred them up, never look at porn as long as I live." But Mello had stopped moving now, reaching out to lightly run his fingers through Matt's hair with that classic Cheshire grin. He pushed further, desperate now as the pressure at his groin began to grow painful. "Fuck, Mello, I'm sorry! I'll put up pictures of you all over the house so I'm always looking at your beautiful face! I'll graft them onto the inside of my fucking eyelids so I see you every time I close my eyes! Jesus, Mello, I'll wear a fucking chastity belt and give you the bloody key if that's what you want!"
The blond simply smiled on, absolutely amused as his lover writhed and strained beneath him. He really was hard, it must have hurt so much, but that was the name of the game here. The riding crop, the knife, the delaying of gratification, all for the sake of one day that Matt couldn't even recall.
"Hey, Matty." The redhead went absolutely still at the sound of his name. Mello had practically whined for him there, his voice laced with want and need. He shivered, letting out a shaky breath as Mello leaned in, right down next to his ear where he nibbled lightly on the fleshy lobe.
"April Fool's," he breathed before sliding back off the bed and grinning down at his catch.
He had expected Matt to laugh, but the gamer actually looked a little scared, eyes wide and a little less color in his cheeks. "Alright, ha ha," he said with a weak smile. "Come on, Mello, you got me. Joke's over, then."
"Oh, no, love," the blond corrected. "The joke is far from over. It's only 2 in the afternoon. You've got a good 10 hours until this joke is really finished."
"You can't be serious." Matt's shoulders sank. "What the hell am I supposed to do about this?!" He jerked his head in the direction of his tented trousers. "Come on, Mels, baby, help me?"
"Mmm," Mello hummed, tickling the gamer's feet with the riding crop. "Go ahead, keep calling me baby and darling."
Matt's feet jerked and twitched under Mello's ministration. "Will it get me out of this?"
"Not a chance."
The redhead growled in irritation and jerked his wrists a few times, but only succeeded in bruising the skin. "This isn't funny."
"I think it's absolutely hilarious." Then as Mello strode out of the room, with a sadistic sashay of the hips, he called back to his bound lover, "Perhaps you should develop a sense of humor."
