All The Way Here

Mello finished writing and put down his pen. It had been a while since he'd written a letter, without recourse to the computer, but it felt more fitting. He folded it, slid it carefully into its envelope and sealed it with his tongue. Only once it was safely slotted into a side-pocket of his bag, did he look up again. "Comfortable?"



Bound to the railings overlooking the lower section and gagged, Matt could only nod. His eyes twinkled with defiance, though he did shift ever so slightly backwards as Mello leisurely stood. Mello smiled serenely, tidying things away as he listened to another announcement from Kira on the television.



In truth, the blond was wondering how this had come to happen. In the week since their engagement, Mello had looked at Matt like he was some precious, fragile thing, too breakable to treat roughly. One night, he had even stripped naked the redhead and inspected every mark on him, just to see what had been permanent; making rash promises that he would never hurt a hair on his head again. Matt had replied that if Catholics couldn't be divorced, then this engagement was never making it as far as actual marriage. Mello had agonised over the three times in their history, when he considered that the violence hadn't been sexual and therefore was inexcusable. Matt had commented that if he ever felt like a victim of domestic abuse, he would be sure to look up the Samaritans.



Then this evening had happened. Mello trying to concentrate with the television airing infuriating rubbish and Matt beside him playing some game with a particular insidious, repetitive tune. Three times he'd been asked to mute it; three times Matt had told him that the tune helped him dodge whatever was being fired at him. Mello glanced across at his lover and chuckled. "You must be really dying for a cigarette by now." There was a rigorous nodding of the head over by the railings. "Ok, you've been good and quiet for the last half an hour." Mello shook one from the packet and wandered across, removing the gag and lighting the cigarette in Matt's mouth. "Hello." The blond said, still crouching down.



"Good to see you back." Matt replied, the ember bobbing up and down between his lips with each word. "The pod person who kidnapped you and took your place has been really weird to live with."



"Oh really?" Mello slid his hand under Matt's stripey top and squeezed a nipple. "And did you have sex with this pod person?"



Matt smirked and smoked, with ash falling in a long trail from his cigarette to his lap. "I'm fucked either way answering that one."



"Let's discuss again what happens when we are told numerous times to shut the fuck up with tinny music and we refuse." Mello's hand went to his own belt, then paused.



Matt's gaze said, before his mouth ever did, "I dare you."



"What's the use of me trying to turn over a new leaf, when you're such a fucking whore?" The blond snapped back, taking the butt from Matt's mouth and twisting it out underfoot. He replaced the gag and stepped back, eyes appraising above a sardonic grin. "I wish I'd made you take your top off before I handcuffed you to the railings." A small shrug. "But never mind." With a clatter of boot heels on wood, Mello strode off into the kitchen and returned with a paring knife. "It's about time that this did something other than opened the cellophane on frozen pizzas."



Green eyes, bereft of goggles since Mello had earlier flicked them onto the top of his head, lost their glittering amusement, as Matt eyed the knife. They grew even wider, as the blond straddled, then sat on his legs, picking up a hem of his top and applying the sharp edge. It took a while, but the blade cut through fabric in half a dozen places, dismantling seams and causing his collar to gape wildly. With one swift yank, Mello whipped the top from his torso and threw it into the darkness below.



Stretching to fondle Matt's taut arms, from biceps to wrists, Mello interlinked his own fingers with those of the redhead and kissed him possessively. Mello's arms came down again, scratching with black painted fingernails all down his lover's chest, then massaging his stomach. With a sudden movement, the kiss was broken and the blond's fist rose and landed hard in that same stomach. He dismounted from Matt's legs and, as the redhead curled in pain, Mello's hands undid Matt's belt. The trousers came away with a force that jolted Matt's wrists and narrowly avoided him bashing his hand on the railing post. The blond paused for a moment, watching with a predator's pose, then removed Matt's boxers a little more gently.



"That's much better." Mello proclaimed, reaching as an afterthought to remove the goggles fully and to place them on the table. "Now which bit of 'Mello owns me' did you forget when I asked you, repeatedly, to mute your game? When did it slip your mind that I own you body and mind?" He removed his own belt, adding mildly, "Turn around."



Matt peeping up from underneath a mass of red fringe, looked up further to survey his bunched, bound hands, then back at Mello, as if to say, 'how?' The blond just smirked and so Matt experimentally drew his knees up and then rolled over onto them. His wrists crossed over each other, steel digging into them. His face hid in the crux of his elbows and he was shivering, though it wasn't cold in that place. He tensed when he heard the footsteps stomping forward and he arched when the first crack of the belt came down in a searing, stinging thwack onto his back.



Matt soldiered through six more just like it, before his balance gave out and he tumbled sidewards with a wracking jar of the handcuffs. Mello bent to catch and pull him back up. He stayed there, one hand on his back and the other at this tortured wrists. Kisses tasted the tears on his face, right up to his eyes. Keys rattled and he was undone, falling into Mello's arms and trembling there.



The blond lifted him bodily and carried him onto the bed. Matt's back screamed pain as if something burning, branding was being held there still, but Mello's mouth moved over it. He was licking at the blood. Minutes or hours later, Matt was too far gone to tell, there was a bouncing and a creak, as Mello stood back, off the bed. A whooshing sound and the belt came down on his bare arse. The redhead clawed at the quilt, but didn't move away.



Mello watched with cold, blue eyes. This is how it had all started. A stolen set of notes and Mello, caught in the act of dressing, chasing the younger Matt across a room to retrieve them. His belt in his hand; Matt diving over a bed, his backside too temptingly there, and whack! Mello had brought the belt down onto him. The notes had scattered, but Mello had wanted more retribution than that. Turning the redhead over to scream in his face and noticing, with a startled blushing, his friend's hard-on. All the pleasure and pain since then had stemmed from a belt on a backside and here it was again.



Switching from memory, Mello gazed down at the reddened body below him. Matt's face buried in covers with the gag stifling all but the most animalistic noises from the back of his throat. He looked so sore now, bruises, blood and welts. Was this the worst ever he had hurt Matty? No. That would have been the day he left The Wammy House and didn't take the redhead with him. Mello dropped the leather belt and pulled back Matt's head by the hair to remove the gag. It emerged dripping saliva and faint traces of blood, so Mello cast it across the floor in the direction of the kitchen. He hadn't got a good look at Matt's face, because it had been covered with red hair practically down to his mouth; there had just been an impression of heat, sweat and tears. Mello ran a gloved finger down Matt's bloody spine and asked quietly, "How's it going in there?"





Matt stilled a little, some great feat of will going on inside his head. A white-knuckled hand unclenched from the quilt cover and disappeared under the mass of hair; a palm in the nook at the bridge of his nose. Shaking terribly, the redhead levered himself up slightly. His right hand found Mello's thigh and pressed the leather right up to his groin. Long moments later, Matt faced him, hair stuck close, his features indiscernable. His voice was thick, as if his tongue was too big for his mouth, but he spat out the words with venom. "Fuck me."





Mello lunged and pushed him over onto his searing back. Pinned down by the shoulders, Matt's half-scream was strangled by a crushing kiss. Shoulders released, his wrists were next, caught tightly in Mello's hands, pressing into skin made raw by the earlier handcuffs, and thrust roughly above his head. Then they too were freed and Matt's head resounded to a fierce punch. The blond was moving down his body, fondling, kissing, stroking. Mello was off the bed again, stripping off the leather, until he stood naked and glistening himself. Matt was thrown over and, with no preparation whatsoever, Mello entered him in deep, harsh thrusts, which must surely have hurt him as much as they hurt Matt.





For long minutes after it was all over, they lay there. Breathing heavily, the passing of passion seemed to lay stark the violence that had just occurred, at least in Mello's mind. To move was to confront it; to stay lying there was to imagine that it was a dream just a second longer. He moved, sliding slowly off Matt and become aware for the first time of just how many fluids soaked the covers beneath them. "Matty?" Matt's hand snaked out to find Mello's and he held it. The redhead didn't move, just lay on his front, pressed into the bed. He wasn't even shaking anymore. Mello raised their hands and kissed Matt's palm. Everything that he could think of to say sounded ridiculous. "Did we go too far?" Matt said something unintelligible into the quilt, but still didn't move. "What did you say?"





Matt turned his head slightly. "Never." He swallowed gruffly. "I said, never."





"Never?"





"Never gone too far." A lop-sided grin through a swollen lip. "You gone soft on me or something?"





Mello dropped his hand and stood, glaring. "I'll get something to clean you up." Then he stopped, just looking. "I think we went too far."





Matt tried to turn, but the protest of his whole body was too great. He moved about a foot on the bed, revealing more bloodstains on the covers beneath him, then stopped, hiding his face. Mello crouched, stroking his hair and kissing his ear. "I'll get something to fix you up."





"Cigarette."





"Ok." Mello rushed to the table and lit one for him. That first drag tasted acidic in his mouth and tickled the back of his throat. He hadn't meant to inhale. Back to the pulped mess of his lover, Mello floundered. "I've got one for you." A bloody hand reached out for it and took it. Matt turned his head, sucking on it so close to hair and bedspread. "I'll get something to clean you up."





"Mello, please stop panicking." Matt murmered.





"You can't see yourself!" Mello snapped back, marching away for damp towels and First Aid supplies. When he returned, Matt had manoeuvred himself to the edge of the bed, trailing blood behind him. "Lay still." Mello gently spread out the towels on his back and opened the kit searching for anti-septic. "Fuck."





The redhead snorted, which caught Mello's eye. "Hello gorgeous." Matt spoke lazily. "That was great."





"You are really, really fucked up!"





"I'm fucked alright, but don't pretend it was just me got off on that." A tongue bobbed out underneath the red fringe. Mello couldn't stand not seeing him properly a second longer, so brushed back Matt's hair, until confronted with an emerald stare. "Ohai."





"This isn't right." Mello told him, firmly. "You're fucking bleeding to death."





"I doubt it." Matt calmly responded. "You're being a drama queen again."





"Don't tell me what I can see with my own eyes!" Mello barked back. He lifted the towels and, in truth, the damage didn't seem so bad anymore. Matt's back was criss-crossed with painful welts and bruises, but most of the horror of before had been encrusted and oozing blood. "Does it hurt anywhere?"





Matt laughed aloud, dropping his cigarette and immediately trying to dive after it. His laughter ended abruptly in a groaning curling. Mello took the ember before it could enflame anything and waited to hand it back. "Thanks." Matt hissed, once he could speak again. "Yeah, some bits hurt."





"You can't move." Mello commented, biting back the worry and guilt that wanted to erupt. "Oh Mary, Mother of God, what have I done?"





"Mello. Will you get some chocolate please?" Matt pointed to the table. Mello stared at him, but did as he was told. "Good. Now will you sit there. That chair. Yes, there." He nodded approval as the blond sat down, a quizzical look upon his face. "Good. Now eat the chocolate."





"Will you stop farting about? You motherfucking arsehole!" Mello screamed, then gasped as Matt threw himself off the bed and landed in a heap on the floor. Towels scattered as he pulled himself up onto his knees. "What the...?"





"I moved." Matt tried a smile, but his lips were swollen. "We're all good." Then he fainted.



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Author's note: If you enjoyed this scene, you may like to know that the extremely talented Xizarx has drawn it:
http://xizarx.livejournal.com/9802.html Prepare to be amazed.