A/N: Yes, I changed the title of his fic after I wrote this chapter. You'll see why ^_^
Matt could taste Mello's panic as he bit and kissed the tender skin on his neck.
"Fine, then," he growled. "You don't want me to care, then I won't. You want me to be an insensitive, sadistic jerk like you? Fine." He tore Mello's pants to the ground. "I can play this game. After all, it's the only thing I'm good at, isn't it? Playing games?"
He reached down the front of Mello, ignoring his friends clawing attempts to make him stop, and dived into his black briefs. The wordless, breathy groan that escaped Mello's lips empowered Matt, fueling a dark, explosive craze that was raging somewhere deep within.
With each passing moment, Mello found it harder and harder to fight against Matt's ruthless hand. Panting hard, he still tried to free his interlocked wrists from his other—if less pleasurable—impossibly strong grip.
"You…fucking…bastard…"
Matt caught a glimpse of that cold, ice blue glare. "You have no idea," he growled.
In one swift move, he spun Mello around towards the bathroom wall, grabbed him by the back of his neck and slammed him forward, relishing the disapproving snarl that came from Mello. While the blonde braced himself against the wall, Matt brought his hands back to Mello's narrow waist and embedded his nails deep into his skin.
"Don't tell me this isn't what you want," Matt breathed into Mello's ear, pausing to bite and sip on it now and then, making Mello shudder. "You always push the limit. You always wanted someone to tell you 'no.'"
He started to unzip his own pants.
"You always dared them to defy you. To say, 'enough. Stop.'"
A lush kiss on Mello's scarred shoulder.
"Because you don't know how to stop."
Mello's strangled shout as the last of his clothing is torn from his body.
"You don't know how to control. Or be controlled. But you want to."
The sinful, intoxicating touch.
"Because if you don't—"
Matt's burning body melded against his.
"—what's to keep you from going over the edge of yourself? From the edge of death?"
Mello couldn't breathe. The sweat was dripping from the tips of his hair and his knees were buckling with each of Matt's debilitating hand strokes. Every inch of his body felt as though it were mapped with live wires and Matt had cruel control of each one. The combination of sheer hatred for allowing himself to be so controlled and the pure sexual greed that overshadowed that hatred was like having electricity in his blood. Incapable of thought or composure, Mello finally gave in.
Matt could feel the fight leave Mello. He could finally turn all of his attention to Mello's aching arousal. With one hand he stroked and fondled, while the other stealthily slid down his own boxers.
Matt closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of his best friend. He regretted his decision to remain practically fully clothed now that his shirt was sticking to his sweaty chest. His hair was drenched, the hollow of his neck glistening with perspiration and his own arms were fatigued from supporting nearly all of Mello's weight. But that dark, deep rage cried for more.
So pathetic and insecure he has to follow someone else's life instead of leading his own!
Matt waited until Mello was just on the brink, when his throaty groans turned into shouts of ecstasy and he could feel something warm and wet trickle down his fingers.
Matt's brutal penetration bucked Mello into the tile wall, making him yell as a lightning bolt of pain zinged up his spine. Biting down hard, Mello stifled his urge to scream bloody murder at the ceiling and tried to focus on staying conscious. Pain was quickly replaced by the exhilaration of feeling Matt inside of him and listening to his staggered breathing as he gathered himself. Mello turned his head to look behind him, but the moment was short-lived. Matt grabbed a handful of Mello's hair and pulled hard. His other hand cupped the underside of his neck. The two boys exchanged a brief sideways glance at each other, listening to the other's heavy breathing for one, still moment.
Matt blinked, wondering why, as he stared into those fierce blue eyes, he had the sudden urge to cry.
Then, Mello said,
"A personal problem."
Grinning, Matt closed his eyes and released Mello enough to glide the softest of kisses across his lips.
"Yeah. I know."
They collapsed to the floor in a heaving, panting mess, the bathroom tiles slick with their aftermath. Mello was on all fours with Matt on top, his shaking arms still tightly wrapped around Mello's torso as the last of the convulsions left his body. After counting the heartbeats he could feel through Mello's back and watching the sweat drip from their bangs for several minutes, Matt asked,
"Still conscious?"
"No."
Matt nodded and slowly began to pull away, wincing every time Mello jerked in pain. Once he had removed himself from Mello, he gently laid his limp friend down on the floor, zipped up his pants and sat back against the toilet. The silence made his skin crawl. Glancing at Mello, still facedown on the floor, he thought how the scene looked eerily similar to a murder. There were even a few veins of blood staining the floor.
"It's a good thing I didn't."
Matt frowned at Mello, somewhat grateful he could only see his friend's backside. "What?"
"In the alley…I came so close to that edge. Closer than I've ever been. You pulled me back. It's always you."
Matt's eyes softened. "Well, duh. If I didn't, where would that leave me? I can't live without you, remember?"
"Hmph. Idiot."
The redhead grinned and combed his hand through his hair.
Well, he thought, it's better than being nothing.
A/N: Yay! I'm always impressed by how much of this is never planned out in my head and then so much actually gets written. I am planning on a part 3 as we speak; the final installment so as to have a proper beginning, middle, and end.
Thanks so much for being such awesome readers! As always, curious to know what you think & critique is always encouraged! =D