I hadn't really thought of it until now, but I've made a lot of stupid sacrifices for Mello since leaping onto the 'let's live on the run for shits and giggles!' bandwagon.

Due to our haphazard schedule of house-jumping, and to my extreme disgust and revulsion, I often didn't have enough time to pack and unpack my colossal gaming system. Not only that, but if it happened that we were found and had to haul but we wouldn't exactly have a vast amount of time to pack and store the intricate equipment I possessed and revered like a god. Because of this, it sat abandoned in my old apartment, awaiting my arrival with open arms. Fortunately I was still able to keep my PGS at hand, but it was a poor replacement.

I sat on the ratty couch of our cabin, legs stretched beside me, shirt thrown lazily over the edge of the sofa arm. I still wore my gloves, and my goggles were slung lazily over my eyes. Being able to cruise around with as little clothing as possible was one of my most cherished pastimes, but you'd be hard-pressed to find me without my favourite accessories.

Mello was in the other corner of the room, glaring heatedly at the blue glow of the computer screen. I tried to ignore how hot the image was; my computer (which was to me a person in itself) casting a devious glow over Mello golden hair, over his arms, the slick of his skin.

I could hear him tapping away at the computer furiously. He was absentmindedly chewing on a goddamn chocolate bar. I honestly couldn't understand how he could be so passionate about such a disgusting food, and how he wasn't as huge as a beached whale. Pausing Legend of Zelda (completed 12 times, currently in progress of completing the 13th) I sat up and slung my arms over the couch, watching Mello curiously. "What are you doing?"

He grunted, reluctantly swinging his eyes to me. He looked mighty pissed. "Trying to find out if the SPK have any leads. Their security is currently through the roof." He rolled his eyes, leaning backwards on his chair, arms crossed over his torso. "Not that you're being any great help."

I only smiled, propping my elbows up to support my chin. "What, can't do it yourself? Weren't you Number 2? Can't handle a little heat?"

I only had time to duck as a coffee mug came soaring in my direction. For the first few months I'd learnt to deftly block Mello's attacks the hard way, though I'd gotten pretty bruised up for the most of it. Despite Mello's feeble appearance, he was surprisingly strong, and he could throw a mean punch.

"Shut up," Mello said mildly, eyes back on the computer. I laughed, though he ignored me. He grunted in exasperation. "Anyway, it's not like you're being any great help." One of his hands was absentmindedly undoing his leather zipper, plunging down his pants, lazily stroking himself. This wasn't anything surprising – you wouldn't believe how comfortable we were to let instincts reign in the security of our own house.

Leaping up from the sofa, I padded over to his side of the room, leaning over him to glance at the intricate system he was trying to crack. I didn't read a bit of it. Instead I put my lips to his ear; to his cheek. "Fuck me."

Mello groaned, batting me away. "No, I'm busy."

I ignored him, my hand reaching downwards to stroke the inside of his thigh. "C'mon Mello…." I snagged the lobe of his ear between his teeth; my cock twitched helplessly at the groan he feebly tried to supress.

For a moment, there was only silence, and then he spun around so quickly I was caught off guard. With a snarl he heaved me away, and leaping after me. He landed on my chest with a painful thud. Despite how skinny he was, he was still heavy enough to keep me pinned. I struggled beneath him, my hands at his chest, my eyes narrowed.

It always started like this- a power struggle. We'd both fight to best the other, to humiliate them as best we could. I loved it. Mello was breathing hard above me. I was still for a moment, before bucking beneath him and successfully unseating him. He went down, and I used this as an opportunity to scramble on top of him, straddling his waist with my knees, my hands keeping his wrists pinioned above his head.

With a grin (which was answered with a furious groan) I leant down and kissed him. Mello was still for a moment- his hands were stagnant beneath mine. He was so warm and tasted like chocolate, like I remembered, like I adored. Our tongues battled, lungs heaving, my mouth heavy on his.

The stillness did not last long.

Mello detonated beneath me. One of his hands awoke and, without a moment's hesitation, he punched me in the face. My jaw burnt and I wrenched away from him, swearing beneath my breath and rubbing my face. I was used to Mello hitting me (sometimes I'd make it a game to see how many snide comments I could make before he attacked) but this time I hadn't been prepared. However I didn't let Mello scramble away- flouting my aching face I leapt at him again, until he was pressed beneath me. Wrenching down his pants I retrieved his cock which he had at some point replaced in them. Mello uttered a furious gasp, bucking.

I didn't allow him to move. Using one hand to hold Mello steady I leaned down, mouth teasing at the head of his cock, which was erected and monumental. He reacted instantaneously, as he always did- his back hollowing, his eyes squeezing closed, his breath returning in shallow pants. One of his hands tangled in my hair, squeezing it.

It happens like it always does.

Dragging MY mouth up, down, up, hungry, desperate, pulling back before Mello comes. We wrestle to the ground, but I win, like I always do, like I know Mello likes it. I grapples his leather pants down and push him against a wall, breathing furiously, tongues fighting.

Mello's fingers as they curl at my spine as I enter him without preparation, without warning. His voice in my ear, low, throaty: "Fuck, fuck, oh my god, Matt fuck me harder, harder!" I do. Of course I do. Mello claws at my exposed flesh as I slam him in a furious beat against the wall, noiseless except for my uncompromising breathing, my fingers at his cock, jerking it upwards and downwards and upwards as he writhes beneath me, groaning, muttering in my ear, exploding into my hands.

We finish like we always do. I don't finish inside of him- I pull out to stem his chest, releasing like I only can with him, licking some of it off but not all of it because part of me desperately wishes it would stain.

I remember what Mello had said the first time it happened, the first night he returned to me.

"This means nothing. Don't forget that."