:3 Once again, sorry for the delay. This chapter is quite a complicated one. Just so that no one gets confused, I am intentionally making Matt contradict himself in certain things. Keep in mind that he is suffering from a psychological breakdown. Those are not pretty, and he is actually handling it pretty well, lol.
Warnings: angst, blood, gore, explicit details, some sexual content, and lots of filthy language
Disclaimer: I do not own DeathNote or eBay
A sigh of relief broke the silence of the mostly empty room. Cracking my neck, I looked down happily as my computer screens flickered to life. The image of a beautifully naked woman came up clearly, my few desktop icons carefully placed around her body. She was blond, of course, and she had a cruel smirk planted on her painted lips. I chuckled a little as I recalled the first time Mello saw my background. With all the decency of a Catholic ex-Mafia man, he had choked on his chocolate and slapped a gloved hand over his stunning eyes. He had ordered that I remove, and I quote, "that cock-sucking, flat-chested bitch" off my computer. Of course, the effect was lost as he continued to childishly keep his hand over his eyes.
Falling flat on my back, I leaned my head back to get a better view of the bedroom doorway. Mello's bare feet were visible, hanging off the foot of the bed as he continued in his morphine-induced sleep. Rolling over to my stomach, I dragged myself to my feet and approached the spacious new bedroom. The entire house I just bought for the two of us was spacious with its ten feet ceilings and wide door frames, but I made sure that the master bedroom was the biggest of all.
For too long, me and Mello have been stuck in stinky shit holes and in cramped spaces with a dozen sweaty, horny men. I refused to do it any more; I wasn't going to live in cardboard boxes anymore. The openness of the rooms and the cheery colors calmed my hyperactive mind down, giving me a warm tingly feeling that was probably the closest I have ever felt to being at home. Of course, it wouldn't be home if Mello hadn't come, so I drugged him up and brought him here without our few belongings.
The expensive place came fully furnished which saved me the hassle of trying to buy matching shit, but I sold a bunch of the unnecessary decorating crap on eBay. Clenching my toes in the soft carpet, I looked down at my sleeping angel splayed out against the dark covers. Sleep had smoothed away the angry wrinkles on his forehead and had softened his features almost back to its childish innocence.
Taking the opportunity to be near him without him trying to kill me, I sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his smooth back. His skin was so ridiculously soft, unlike my own dry, chapped skin. Trailing my fingers up, I gently rubbed the edge of his burn scars. He grunted unhappily in his sleep, but I continued to touch. I knew that the flesh on the edges of the scars was hypersensitive since the flesh above the nerves had been almost completely burned away. The rest of the scars alternated between the hypersensitive and the deadened flesh where even the nerves had been burned away.
"You're so fucked up," I whispered softly as I let my fingers trail down to the angry red flesh of his wrists.
I didn't want to keep him handcuffed, but I knew that it was the only thing keeping him here with me. The only reason he wasn't cuffed up right now was because he was too doped up to run away.
"Tch, I'm pretty fucked up myself. Seriously, drugging you to have my way with you? Damn, I'm such a sleaze ball."
Somehow, hearing those words spill from my own lips didn't make me feel bad at all. My own mind in its sick, demented way refused to believe that I was that bad even when I admitted it to myself. Hell, I'm pretty sure that arguing with yourself is some kind of mentally unstable indicator, but who gives a fuck? Yep, definitely not me. All I cared about was keeping my lover beside me.
I was a little surprised when Mello's eyes blinked open sleepily. For a moment I was afraid that he was going to kick the shit out of me for being so close to him, but the familiar hazed look in his eyes calmed me down some. He was still drugged up.
He looked around the room in confusion, but I scooted closer and wrapped my arms around him to comfort him.
"I bought us a house," I whispered proudly into his ear. "It's a nice big house so that we can make it a home."
"A home?" he asked softly as his sharp mind struggled to fight through the murky effects of the morphine in his system.
"Yeah, the two of us are finally going to have a home."
"…W-wammy's?"
The very sound of that damn place made me angry. It may have been a type of home long ago, but it left nothing but bitterness and painful longing in my heart.
"No, this is our home, not that place."
"Our home," he stated back clearly, sending a painful jolt of pure happiness right into my heart.
Instead of answering, I pressed a desperate kiss to his lips. I needed this home, his body, his love, his very presence. The thought of him trying to run away again made me cling even tighter to him, taking his breath away with the needy kiss until he was literally struggling against me just to breath. For a moment I didn't feel those hands pounding against my chest, that heart beating rapidly in fear, that body squirming for salvation. Pulling away from his lips, I heard his gasping for air as my tongue dragged along the scarred cheek.
It was all like a breath of fresh air rushing into my system and making me light-headed. My heart beat desperately against my rib cage as I continued to dominate him. I would swear on Kira's grave to never touch a speck of drugs ever again if I could only bask in this feeling, touch this heavenly being, feast on his toxic being. If I could only have him, I would never again want for anything. I could be damned to fucking hell and it wouldn't matter because I had already seen the light. It completely blinded me.
I didn't want this moment to be fake, but in a cold dark corner of my mind I knew it was. That's why I slipped the needle into my vein again, then into his flawless flesh. I was careful not to overdo it; there was just enough to shut that fucker in the back of my mind up. Mello grinned up at me and brushed back some of those green tinted strands.
"Bees eat purple clouds," he stated seriously making me snort in amusement.
Mello always was a pussy when he did drugs. That's why he stuck to drinking, really; he was an angry drunk and that helped him to keep up his macho reputation. He never wanted to show the sensitive and delicate side that was weaved into his very being.
"Yes they do," I replied softly to pacify him.
Pushing him on his back, I slipped off his boxers with one hand while I slathered three of my fingers with spit. I could see a hint of fury deep in those aquamarine eyes, but what little was left of my self-control had been thrown out the window at the sight of his naked body. Parfait, perfetto, perfekt, perfect, nothing in all the languages known to mankind could describe the man that was driving me utterly insane.
I touched him, kissed him, loved him, hurt him, only him. It was greed, lust, and envy contorted in a violent three-way raping my mind into oblivion. Soon, that's all it was, oblivion. There were no ringing bells, brilliant colors, or even the angel choir you read about in porn novels. There was blinding whiteness and a moment of painful breathlessness.
Although it seemed like an eternity, my senses returned to me after a few seconds. Mello was still under me, gasping in pain and wearing an utterly sinful look. Fuck, that look alone was going to give me another orgasm. He shuddered again, clenching around my softening cock.
Seeing that he was still uncomfortably hard, I slipped out of him and positioned myself into a more familiar position. Slowly, I dragged my tongue along the hot underside of his cock. Jerking with a choked cry, Mello clenched his eyes shut and gripped the sheets with that all-too-familiar grip. I felt myself hardening again shamelessly as I continued to tease him with my well-practiced tongue, and how could I not?
Although the drugs made him more vulnerable, he was still attempting to stifle noises that proved how much he did enjoy me. Still, hearing the few sounds of pleasure elated me to new heights of pleasure. He liked it, he really did.
Unable to hold back anymore, I deep-throated his member and savored the smooth skin and the taste that was undeniably Mello. Sucking hard and fast, I wasn't surprised when the hot liquid ran down my throat as a hoarse scream rang out. Swallowing everything, I leaned back and jerked myself off to the sight of my violated saint. Tensing, the whiteness came back. It wasn't as heart-stopping as when I was fucking Mello, but that was to be expected.
Looking at the blood seeping into the bed sheets, it was easy to imagine that I was his first, that no one else had touched him the way that I did. For this short moment, I felt special. I felt like the luckiest man alive. Never mind that I had to drug my sweetheart or that there was no real willingness or love on his part. For now, this was good enough. Being able to hold him, to kiss him, it was all fucking worth it. I pulled Mello up against my feverish body, slipping my bare leg between his thighs. He grunted in pain, but I was too tired to move. As I drifted off to sleep I vaguely tried to remember when I had had the time to get naked.
~_~_~_~_~_
Something wasn't quite right.
I was viciously torn from my much needed sleep only to look around and see nothing out of the ordinary. Breathing heavily, I scanned the room once more just to find it empty. Then it hit me like a damn freighter. The bed was empty.
"Shit!" I hissed as I jumped to my pile of clothes.
One quick look and I knew that my gun was gone.
"You fucker!" I growled as I slipped on my pants and cautiously made my way out of the room.
I was afraid that he was long gone by now, but there was still hope. He needed clothes and painkillers before he could run off, both of which would take some searching to find. Yes, I was a messy packer.
The sound of numerous capsules hitting the tile floor nearly made me jump out of my skin. Suddenly everything went still. Mello was afraid he had woken me up and was now listening for any sign of movement. Pinching my nose, I held my breath as I approached the kitchen. If I made so much as a tiny sound, I knew it was game over; I would have a bullet between my eyes before I could even blink.
Luckily, I had plenty of practice sneaking around as a kid and my ability to hold my breath had greatly improved after my last few water boarding experiences. Yeah, working for the Mafia was a bitch.
Peeking around the kitchen doorway, I saw that Mello was awkwardly crouched down facing the other direction. He was trying to hurriedly put the painkillers back into their container. I really had his OCD to thank for that; he could have just left that shit on the floor and ran, but seeing messes really did a number on him. He either had to arrange them into a complex vector pattern or he had to clean it up. He had probably been the only Mafia boss with a clean hideout.
Just as I was trying to decide how best to get the gun away from him, a gunshot rang out harshly and the deadly 115 grams of metal sunk into the wall behind me. Instinctively, I jumped behind the wall in order to put an obstacle between me and the rest of the bullets.
"That was a warning, asshole!" Mello shouted, fury making his voice tremble. "Next time, you're dead."
"You fucking shot at me!" I screeched in a mixture of terror and anger.
A gun had been put to my head countless times, but I had always known that he would never shoot it. Now I wasn't so sure; this time was different.
"Of course I did, you bastard! You've gone fucking crazy!"
Those words seemed to stop me just as effectively as any bullet would. Crazy? I had uttered that very word to him so many times: sometimes in jest, other times in al seriousness. Although I never considered myself normal or even sane, hearing someone else state what I had already known really brought it into focus. I was bat-shit crazy.
"Matt?" Mello called out nervously.
Aww, was be afraid that he hurt my already scarred feelings? It was all too funny really, this whole situation. I considered just sitting back and letting this thorn in my flesh finally get the hell away from me. Without Mello I would never have to get shot at again. I would never kill, steal, shoot, get tortured, or be driven to insanity by lust and desire. I could find someone who would love me back, who would care for me, never yell at me or beat me. It all sounded fine and dandy, but…I would be empty. That hollow smile I hated so much would come back, those meaningless hours, days, years, or existence! I just couldn't live like that again!
"I love you, Mello," I stated clearly as I stared at the dark hole in the wall. "I love you so fucking much."
In one fluid motion, I was on my feet and charging at the man with the gun. A part of me was hoping that he would just shoot and end this all for me, for us. If I lived, I would continue to hunt him down, to lock him up, just for me. Unfortunately for him, or rather, the both of us, he never fired off another round.
I plowed into him, knocking the pills and the gun out of his hands. His back collided with the dandle of a cupboard making him cry out in pain, but he was far from helpless. Blunt nails dug into my arms and his bare feet mercilessly assaulted my body. Punching him in the face, I grunted as one of his knees got close to hitting me in the balls. Soon I realized that he was going after the pressure points and I was forced to defend myself or end up on the floor paralyzed in pain. One of his kicks didn't retract fast enough, so I pinned his leg against my side and flung him to the cold tile. The handle had torn open his back but he continued to fight like a gladiator on steroids. He scratched at my face nearly succeeding at taking out an eye.
Blood spilled between our bodies as we both struggled desperately to win. Having forgotten about the gun, everything became a weapon. Teeth, nails, palms, elbow, thighs, even out skin seemed to be fighting. Hair was yanked out at the roots, skin was ripped open, blood blinded eyes, and fingernails were ripped off by the sheer intensity of their clawing.
Feral screams of battle echoed in the mostly empty kitchen as we forced our bodies to continue this sick struggle. It was archaic, fighting hand to hand. Nowadays people settled their differences in court or with a fancy gun. People no longer soiled their hands or fought with manly pride. They all hid behind their pawns and shuddered in fear of being found. That was not us, not now.
A sickening crack ended the two-man war just as suddenly as my words of love had started it.
Gasping uncontrollably, I pulled away to see Mello trying to hold back shrieks of pain. My leg had somehow managed to twist his forearm too far, breaking the malnourished bone. Wiping the blood from my eyes or what could have been tears, I looked down at the mangled blond.
"Stay with me," I choked as I forced myself to apply pressure to the fracture.
"N-no!" he screamed desperately, trying to avoid the pain by being still.
"Stay with me! Shit, just please fucking stay with me!"
The sound of the broken bones grinding against each other made me sick, but I pushed on. Tears slipped down his face as he tried to keep from sobbing, but it was a losing battle. Was it really that much punishment for him to stay with me? Was I such a horrible person that he would rather face this pain than say something to the effect of "yes"? Was I really that disposable? Before I gave up, a single word was uttered.
"O-ok," he whispered before breaking down.
Hearing that word, that precious word was enough to send me back up to the heights of joy. I released his arm to hold him up and plant kisses all over his face.
"Mnn, say it again, Mello, say it again."
Sadly, he didn't say it again. He just sobbed and wailed in my arms. I couldn't help but thing that he wasn't just crying in pain. He was crying in shame for giving up, for breaking. Those were tears of devastation as his legendary self-control and stubbornness were shattered. I didn't just break him physically. I broke something else deep inside of him. Me, the dog, the weakling.
I broke him.
~_~_~_~_~_
"This is why I stick to video games," I muttered in annoyance as I struggled to patch both me and Mello up.
It had taken half and hour before he had calmed down enough for me to move us to the master bathroom. Washing up the both of us had proved to be challenging as any contact with water made us cringe. Still, there was no choice; the wounds needed to be cleaned. After lathering up myself, I was able to gently wash out his silky hair before lathering him up. Trying to salvage any machismo that he could, Mello didn't flinch as the soap washed away the filth. He just focused on keeping me away from his broken arm.
"Alright, I've got to tend to that arm now," I commanded softly.
Whether he liked it or not, we couldn't just leave it as it was. He would end up with a deformed and weak arm if it was left alone.
"I'll take care of it," he retorted stubbornly.
He shot me a hateful look, but I ignored it. I needed to focus on fixing him up before I could bitch slap him.
"Give your damn hand to me now," I hissed as I took a firm hold of his bruised shoulder.
I was surprised when he flinched away from my touch, but he slowly extended the damaged arm. Disgust was painted all over his face and he couldn't even look me in the eye. Sighing in frustration and worry, I examined the darkened flesh before applying a little pressure to feel out the break. Unfortunately, that move on my part resulted in a high-pitched shriek and Mello jerking the injured limb away from me.
"That motherfucking HURT!" he yelled at me before flinching away as if he expected to be hit again.
"Fucking hell, will you quit acting like a kicked puppy?" I snapped as I shook my head. "And I know it hurts, dumbass, but I still need to find the break so that I can be sure to set it right."
He looked away in anger and in shame. What I said was true and he knew it, but he didn't want to have me help him. Mello wanted to continue hating me and if I took care of him, he couldn't do that.
"Do you have to do it now?" he asked quietly before correcting himself in a more assertive voice. "I mean, just wait until we at least get out of the tub."
Nodding, I chuckled to myself. He was just so moody! Glomping him from behind, I pulled his head back and planted a kiss on his split lips. He tensed up and refused to return my affection, but that didn't deter me. I was sure that he could learn to love me the way I wanted him to love me.
"It's all going to get better," I whispered comfortingly into his ear. "Mello, I love you more than I love all my games put together."
I was rewarded with nothing but the dripping of water from the faucet mouth into the cooling water of our bath.
Phew, there it was! I'm kind of weirded out by the fact that I used so many lists, but whatever. If anyone finds it really distracting, let me know and I'll go back and do something to fix it. As always, I'm open to any kinds of suggestions and I really would appreciate reviews from the readers. Now, I think that this is a good place to ask this question. Do you guys want this story to have a happy ending or a sad ending? When I say happy, I don't mean sappy fluff garbage that goes at the end of some fairy tale. That stuff doesn't belong in this fic.
PLEASE REVIEW!!! And I think I've worked out a decent writing schedule, so hopefully the next chapter will be up in a reasonable amount of time. Thanks for taking the time to read this, and a special thanks to all those who have reviewed/favorited/alerted this story. ROCK ON!