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Annals of Fear II	By : DeathNoteFangirl Category: Death Note > Yaoi-Male/Male > Mello/Matt Views: 5803 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note and I do not make any money from these writings

Chapter List
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"Leave please."   Mello stated, calmly, but firmly, as he escorted Matt back through the open doorway of their chalet.    Hal stood huddled in her coat, just to one side.    She made to speak, but Mello shook his head.    "Put a motion sensor on our porch; post a guard watching for us leaving; take the wheels off Mail's car; do whatever you want, but inside this chalet, it's just me and my husband tonight."   He caught Matt staring back at him from just inside the door.   Mello amended his instructions.    "Don't touch Mail's car."    He started to close the door on the American woman, then recalled something important and opened it again.   "And please call Deontic and tell her that Mail is safely back with me.    Where he belongs."

"Mello."   Hal began, but he shut the door.

Mello didn't hang around to see if she was waiting or walking off.   He suspected that Hal was close to wanting to slap him, but he couldn't be concerned about her right now.   He had his husband to sort out and that was going to take all of his focus and strategy.    Mello ensured that the curtains were tightly drawn, as Matt lit yet another cigarette.   Mello glanced at him.    "Let's get out of these wet clothes.    Will we both fit in that bath?   If not, we'll shower together."

Matt nodded and went to check.   Mello was right behind him.    Matt exhaled smoke, "We might fit in, if..."

"Not without aggravating your bruised ass.   We'll shower."

"'kay."

There was a hammering on the door.   Mello grit his teeth, his breath coming out as a prolonged hiss.    Matt bowed his head, taking another deep drag.    The embers of the cigarette sharply glowed.    Mello strode back to the door and whipped it open.    He fixed Hal with the most venomous death glare that he could currently muster.    In response, she shoved the edge of a pizza delivery box into his abdomen.    "They've been heated twice already, don't reheat them or you'll risk food poisoning."   Hal snapped.   "And talk to me like that again, Mello, and I'll really give you something to glare about."    She released the box and Mello had to move quickly to catch it, before it fell.    Hal gave him a withering look and stomped off into the rain, towards her own chalet.    He almost missed her final retort, "I'll watch your door.   Asshole."

Mello watched her go, feeling that perhaps gratitude was in order, but it was a little late for that.    She was already at her chalet.   He would fix it tomorrow.   He closed the door and looked for a way to chain or deadlock it.   There were neither devices attached.    He dropped the pizza box onto the table by the wall and returned to his husband.   Matt had watched the whole exchange from inside the bathroom.   He had nothing to add.   He just smoked his cigarette.   Mello stopped short of him and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb.    "I didn't run out on you, Mail.   I was attempting to run out on myself.   Unfortunately, that was doomed from the start."

"I know."

"Rationally or emotionally?"

Matt didn't bother to answer.    He'd finished his cigarette, so he stepped further into the bathroom to extinguish the butt by running it under the tap.    He threw the sodden remains into the toilet bowl.    "Shower then?"

"Rationally sorted; emotionally, you're silently in bits.    Got it."    Mello replied.   "And yes. Shower."    He pulled at his own clothes, disrobing with the emphasis on speed and efficiency, rather than titillation.    Matt slowly followed suit.   Their clothing pooled in their own puddle of water on the bathroom floor.   Mello was naked long before Matt, so started the shower running, testing it for temperature.     He was trying not to think about the remembered desolation and horror of an hour previously; he was also trying not to linger upon the mess of his marriage.    But both issues screamed through his mind.   Mello fought against the urge to take his motorbike and just ride his frayed nerves off.    Instead he looked to his husband.   "Thank you for talking to me again.    I hate it when you go mute."

Matt was dithering. Tiny, red hairs stood up all over his goosebumped flesh.   He hurried into the shower and huddled for the few seconds that it took to thaw out in the steaming stream of water.   Mello joined him.    It was a little cramped in the space, especially when the glass door was closed, but they managed. Mello turned his face up to meet the full force of the droplets. He rubbed vigorously at his eyes and cheeks, until he was sure that he didn't have eye liner running in smears across them.   Beside him, Matt was just concentrating on warming up again.   They stood in silence for several minutes, each lost in their own world of ablution and thought.   Mello finally felt himself cleansed enough. He stopped to watch Matt; who was leaning against a glass wall, chewing at the cuticles around the nail of his right index finger.    Matt caught him looking, his eyes flashing in a sidewards glance to take in the blond's lack of movement. Matt asked, softly, "You ok now, Mihael?"

"Did you find God when the chips were down?"   Mello asked.   "That's what we deduced the Atheists did."

"Do you want me to have?"

Mello scowled.   "I want to know what happened to you."

"You didn't rush off to a church."

Mello nodded, slowly.   He wasn't sure how he felt about that himself.   His self-interrogation had yet to produce a fixed conclusion.   He liked to imagine that some inner reason had kept him steadfast, in full knowledge that seeking sanctuary hadn't helped any of the other victims.    He suspected that the answer was more like he didn't think himself worthy of celestial help.    It was better than his first thought, which was that he'd been too scared to run.    "No. I stayed with you."

Matt shrugged.   "Ditto."

Mello surveyed him carefully.   Mello wanted to analyse this.   He wanted to go over the whole scenario, piecemeal, with Matt; sifting through each emotion, instinctual feeling and the sheer conviction of what they had individually thought was happening up in that room.    They could maybe understand it better comparing notes and conclusions.    It would inform the case.   They might get closure.   Mello could almost see the academic in Matt, or even that rarer beast, the detective.    But he shouldn't be fooled.   He should be searching for what was being increasingly more buried inside.    Matt in his shell, pushing down all that had scared him until it could no longer touch him.    Mello stepped forward, the action crushing him against Matt's body, in that tiny space.   He clawed his fingers into Matt's hair and held them there; then he kissed his husband with all the fierce protectiveness in his soul.     Matt's hands, forced away from his mouth, found purchase upon Mello's back.

Kisses flowed until the water turned cold.    Only then did Mello step back, his hand reaching out to stop the shower; his eyes meeting Matt's.    There was no fear in the emerald gaze that looked right back.   There was that smug wariness that only Matt could pull off, but behind that, there was nothing.    Mello didn't buy it.   "You suffer kisses from me, even with your lips all bruised up, because it's me taking you over.   Taking away your responsibility, so you won't be held accountable. So you can do nothing wrong."   Mello nodded.   "So I won't walk away."

Matt smiled, "Suffer?"

"It's got to have hurt."

"Suffer?"

"Sufrir."   Mello stated calmly.   "Don't tell me that you don't know the English for 'sufrir'."

Matt's smile grew a touch.   "I don't suffer your kisses, Mello."

Mello gave him a long, cold look.   "I'm going to fuck you."

"Yay."

"As bruised and swollen as you are.   Welts stinging so badly that you haven't been able to sit down without agony all day.    Yet you say, 'yay', at the prospect of me fucking you."    Mello reached out, as Matt tried to look away.   He cupped Matt's chin and turned his face back towards him.   "You feel the need to keep me happy that badly?"

Now Matt looked worried.    "I'm a masochist."   He replied, with clipped and immaculate pronunciation.

"What happened then?"   Mello prompted.   Matt frowned. Mello went on, "What passed through your head.    Did I hit a nerve?"

Matt shook his head.   "Are you buying into the hype?"

"What?"

Matt deflated a little.   "I'm not on my own in this, Mello."   The fear was starting to settle behind his eyes.   "What are you talking yourself into?"

"If I fucked you now, would you be enduring it to keep me happy, in the fucked up apprehension that I'd leave you if you didn't?"

"Endure?" Matt stared.   "Suffering?"    He brushed Mello's hand from his chin.    His voice rose, snapping out,   "Mello, you either fuck me or you don't, but don't play fucking mind games with me right now.   Ok?"   Then he pushed past his husband and out into the bathroom.   Mello stared after him, stunned, but Matt wasn't finished.    He'd only taken a couple of steps into the middle of the narrow bathroom, before turning again.    "You always fucking do this!   You have to make such a big deal out of it! If it's not, 'I'm doing it to save Mail's sanity', then it's 'he's doing it to placate me!'   Or it's, 'yeah, I enjoyed it at the time, but I really regret it now'.    It's just fucking sex, Mello!    I get off on it.   You get off on it.   That's the end."     Matt snatched up a towel and gathered his wet clothes into his arms.    He searched his gilet pocket for his cigarettes, then let the jacket drop back to the floor.    The towel around his middle, Matt marched out into the bedroom, a cigarette already between his swollen lips.

Mello followed more slowly, not bothering with a towel at all.     "Mail."   He said, finally.   "I apologise."   He lifted his hands in surrender.   "You tell me then.   What's going to happen next here?"

Matt stood by the table, smoking heavily.    "The fucking kettle is upstairs."

Naked, Mello nodded, "I took it up there earlier.   Do you want me to fetch it back?"

"I'll have a beer."   Matt wandered over to the mini-fridge, where he had stashed a couple to cool. The rest of the cans sat on top of it, still encased in the ripped cardboard and plastic packaging.   Mello snatched up a chocolate bar and glared at the space in front of him, as he tore back the foil.    The silence hung laden between them.   Surprisingly, it was Matt who broke it. "What do you want me to say?"

Mello glanced at him, his eyes shining with frustration, "Whatever comes to mind."

Matt opened his can, but stayed in the kitchenette.   "There's a typo on the chocolate wrapper."

"What?"   Mello gasped, incredulous.

"It says, 'chocolaty' not 'chocolatey' with an 'e'."   Matt inhaled deeply on his cigarette, then spoke through a cloud of smoke. "You said to say whatever comes to mind."

Mello turned the chocolate over and read the front.   Then he scanned the back.   He found the word.   He stared up at his husband.   "Are you taking the piss?"

"You said to say..."

"Mail!   You barely say a fucking word all day!   You go through the same shit as me and come out of it mute.   Then," Mello's hand went up and, for a second, both of them thought that Mello would throw the chocolate bar at him, "you come out with this shit!   I'm trying really hard, Mail.    I'm trying really fucking hard!"    Mello shook with suppressed fury, then brought his hand down with the chocolate bar still in it and took a hefty bite.    Matt made to speak, but Mello interjected, "Why do I constantly get the feeling that I've somehow let you down?   You give me nothing to go on, but I'm supposed to know anyway."

Matt bowed his head.   He whispered, "I'm fine."   Then took a gulp of beer.   "Bit cold."

Mello's head jerked up and down in something that could have been a nod.   He hissed, "Put the can down.   Put your cigarette out.   Go and get your belt off your jeans."

Matt became very still.   A second or two passed.   Then he placed the can on the work surface and hurriedly finished his cigarette.    He slouched by, to where his wet clothes had been dropped in a pile, just outside the bathroom door.   He crouched down awkwardly, the bruising of his nether regions rigid in their twinges of pain.   With a little fumbling and yanking, Matt pulled his own leather belt free of the sodden jeans and used the wall to ease himself into standing again.   Mello watched it all, his eyes blazing over the chocolate bar in his mouth.    Matt padded across and held out the belt.   His teeth were already grit, but his green eyes sparked with the challenge.

Mello took the belt.   He removed the chocolate bar from his mouth and stated, rigidly, "I did not give you permission to cover yourself with a towel around your waist."

"No." Matt quietly agreed.   "You didn't."

"I know I didn't."   Mello pointed downwards.   "Bend over the bed.   I want to see that pretty, little ass."

Matt's gaze skittered away to the floor.    It took him a few moments to move, but he did it.   He took a short while to settle, initially kneeling and leaning forward; only to shift further onto the bed, with just his toes touching the carpet.   As an afterthought, Matt reached back and pulled the towel from his body.   He half-lay there, waiting, his arms up to cover his head.    Mello stood over him.    The folded belt was snapped between his hands a couple of times.    Then it was loosened, the trailing length tracing a line across Matt's backside.   The redhead flinched slightly; his whole body stiffened against that happening again.

Mello gave a short cough.   "Tell me what you saw and felt upstairs, after hearing that music."

Matt hesitated.   His arm shifted, revealing a flushed face.   He was already a little breathless.   "Like something was homing in on us."

Mello shuddered, recognising the feeling.   He changed direction with his length of leather, letting it fall down between Matt's thighs.   Matt obligingly opened his legs.   The belt lightly touched his balls, then backed up, gliding onto his buttocks.   "What was homing in on us?"

"I don't know."   Matt breathed, goosebumps up across his flesh.   "Did you?"

"What was the nature of the thing?"   Mello was imagining it himself.   It all felt fantastical, here now, on the other side of 'it'.   That sensation of darkness had taken grip deep inside his psyche.   It could be reasoned away now, but it had been real.   It had shaken him.

Matt's fist had balled around the cloth of the quilt beneath him.   "Like that feeling you get when someone is watching you, but much, much worse."

Mello nodded.   "Was it Gwrach-y-Rhibyn?"

Matt shivered, his head twisting to survey Mello; but he didn't have his goggles on and he was missing the nuances of sight.   "I don't know."

"Think, Mail!   We had the bitch flying over us for a whole night! How can we not pin this down as to whether or not it was her?"

Matt swallowed hard.   "Is this sex or an inquisition?"

Mello walked away.   He crouched over his suitcase, rummaging inside.   His back was presented to Matt, half pale, half pocked, where the fire had touched.   His blond hair, long over his shoulders, falling down to hide his face.   Matt watched him, partly in appreciation and partially in abject fear.   Mello found what he was looking for.   He returned, with the belt still swinging from one hand, while the other clutched handcuffs.    He took Matt's hands and, twisting his arms behind his back, secured them at the wrists with the cuffs.    Matt shook, in cold and confusion, waiting for the twinges of arousal to start in his sex.    Mello left again, but was soon back with the can of beer and all of the paraphernalia of smoking.    These were placed on the bedside table. Mello hurried around then, picking up his own and Matt's clothing, then hanging them up to dry, wherever he could find to hang them.    When he returned this time, it was for good.    Mello still had the belt.   He let it drop onto the floor.    "Did you really think I could hit you now?"

"I don't..."

"It's a compromise, baby."    Mello sat beside him on the bed, then swooped down to pick up the towel from the floor.   He manoeuvred himself, so that his back was against the headboard, then reached to pull Matt up alongside him.    With Matt's head on his lap, Mello started gently towelling dry his husband's hair.   Their skin had long since air-dried, though there was a dampness, where Matt had first lay on the top of the quilt.    "Neither your rules nor mine tonight, because I've had enough.   I've been scared half to death today and I'm still worrying that I should be at my prayers, just to save us.   You will get your unpredictability and your restraint.   I will get my cuddle."    Mello pulled the quilt backwards, over both of their bodies, pushing the hem diagonally across his husband's back, so that Matt's head remained free.   Matt rested his forehead on Mello's thigh.   He spoke inaudibly into the humid space between his mouth and the mattress. Mello took a handful of hair and forced Matt's head backwards and up.   "What was that?"

Matt frowned.   "I said, 'what are you trying to do'?'"

"I haven't got a clue."   Mello replied, letting Matt's head drop back down.   Mello reached into the drawer of his bedside cabinet and pulled out his hairdryer.    He unplugged the dark bedside lamp and used the socket to power up the hairdryer.    By degrees, Matt's hair was dried, then Mello started on his own.    When he was finished, Mello shimmied down, pulling Matt up to rest against his chest.   "I just need to know, did you find God?"

Matt peered up at him. "Is this precisely how you want me?"

Mello frowned. "Why?"

"Because it's a bit uncomfortable."

"Tell me if you found God and I'll take the handcuffs off, then let you find your own position."

Matt blinked, slowly, "I'm Mail Jeevas.   Who did you think you're in bed with?"

Mello bowed his head.   "I give up."

"No, Mello." Matt struggled to push himself further up his husband's body, but failed.   He ended up sprawling clumsily, with his cheekbone colliding with Mello's shoulderblade.   "Fuck."

Mello sighed and took the keys from the bedside cabinet.   He unlocked the cuffs around Matt's wrists and dropped them onto the floor.   "Do whatever you want."

"Sorry." Matt said, quietly, then added, "I liked being tied up."

"You give me nothing, Mail.   You give me absolutely nothing to go on."

Matt straddled Mello's lap, then sat on him.   He planted a kiss on Mello's lips.   "Volim te."

"I want to make things alright for you.   I want to make this world a safe place for you."   Mello frowned. "I want you to know, from the moment you wake up in the morning to the moment you go to sleep at night, that you are desperately, fiercely and completely loved.    Because I am in love with you, Mail.   I wouldn't put up with your shit if I wasn't.   But I feel like, if I put one foot out of line, you'll make me pay for it for the rest of my life."    He noticed Matt looking away.   "What happened upstairs earlier really scared me.   Because it felt like we'd already lost, in something so big that I couldn't even see the battleground.    And it's scaring me now; because I know that you went through that too and I don't know how to reach you."   He sighed and found his chocolate again.   "And I really need to reach you."

Matt glanced back at him.   "Mello, I'm right here."

"What do you want?"

"I don't know how to answer that, because I don't know what game you're playing now."

Mello snapped off a square of chocolate.   "I'm not playing any games."

"Ok."   Matt reached out and secured his cigarettes.   "Then are you ok with me sitting here?"

Mello nodded, but tried again.   "When it was all closing in on you, Mail; when you thought that that great and terrible something was coming for us," Mello's quick gaze searched Matt's expression, "did you find God?"

Matt shook his head.   "No. I didn't."    He lit a cigarette and peered cautiously at his husband.   "Wrong answer?"

"Why not? Century did."   Mello moaned. "It makes no sense!"

"I'm giving you no clues now, because I take my cue from you, and you're flitting between every Mello persona that ever lived." Matt sucked on his cigarette.   "I've got no clue as to how I feel.   But up there, I didn't find God, because I didn't need God."   Matt leaned in and kissed Mello again, despite the blond's horrified half-glare.   "I'd got you."

Mello flinched. "Is that your attempt at romance?"

"No."

"You thought that I could save you from whatever was coming?!"   Mello shrieked.   "Even though you could see that I was already on my knees at the thought of it!"

Matt nodded.   "Wrong answer?"

"Bog nam pomoći." Mello replied, flatly, and crossed himself.    Then he slid a hand behind Matt's back and let it slowly slide up and down his husband's spine.   Mello waited until Matt had finished his cigarette, before he pulled the redhead close against himself again.   The silence had dragged on too long.   Mello sighed, "I'll do my best."

"I know you will."

"But you'll have to help me."

"I always do." Matt smiled.   "What do you need?"

"To know that I'm not letting you down right now."   Mello kissed Matt's ear.    "And I need honesty.   I'm fighting wars on every single front at the moment; and it's breaking my balls.   I want to know that we're ok and, if not, what the Hell has to happen for us to be ok.   I want to compare notes, so that we can put this fucking case to rest, because I don't know what will happen if someone takes the witch bottle away again.    Fenian's out there and he hates me. It's not beyond him to go up to the manor and take the bottle out, just to see if we implode.    I would, if I was him."

Matt shook his head.   "You wouldn't.   It would feel too much like cheating."

"I might."   Mello's gaze fell onto the pizza box across the room.   He realised suddenly that he was hungry after all.   "How do you feel about just lying here, eating pizza, drinking beer, smoking yourself stupid, but also comparing notes and letting me hold you?"

Matt gave a half-shrug, "Ok."

Mello looked sharply at him, "But it's not what you need?"

"I'm just wondering why cuddling has suddenly become such a big issue."   Matt sat back and met his husband's eyes.   "We've always cuddled."

Mello snorted.   "Go and get the pizza, baby."    He patted Matt's back.

"We have." Matt reiterated, bewildered.   But he rose, stiffly, anyway.   Mello leapt out of bed, as soon as he was free, and retrieved the bag with his new quilt-covers in them.   He swiftly fitted them over the two quilts, while Matt waited with the pizza box. He was chewing a nail that was already down to the quick.   "Mello, are you not getting what you want from us?"

"You mean other than help with the bloody quilts?" Mello glanced across and Matt was galvanised into movement.   But the covers were already fitted.    Mello stood back, staring, long and hard, at him.   "I would like to be in your cocoon at night."

Matt raised his eyebrows.   He gave an apologetic wince and explained, "It would be really hot and..."

"Fair enough."   Mello nodded, briskly.    He flattened the second quilt over the bed and climbed back under it.   "Bring your laptop too, so we can make notes.   I've already got mine."    He took it from under his side of the bed.

"I'll give it a try."

Mello smiled, beatifically.   "Ok."   He pulled back the quilt beside him.   "Gracias."
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Annals of Fear II