It Matters

"What's that?" Matt wandered over to the kitchen window. In the distance, past the football field and the road beyond it, he could see black smoke rising seemingly from one of the terraced houses. Mello joined him, narrowing his eyes to judge the perspective. As they watched, the smoke faded to a dull, dark grey, then petered out. "Just a fire in someone's back yard?"



"Yeah." Mello agreed, biting into his chocolate. He had only just returned from several days away from the flat. As always, on these occasions, there was a harshness about him. A certain swagger to his step and a propensity to smirk at the world, as if he found everyone so very insignifcant. Even Matt felt as though he was noticed only to provide amusement at his own ineptitude in some great, indefinable game. Mello's eyes were dark. He rarely smiled. Experience told Matt that it would take the whole first day for Mello to stop seeming so distracted; sex would be violent and sneering. Some time tomorrow, Mello might just soften his attitude enough to read a book or do something that reminded him that he was a cultured person, under the veneer of a Mafioso mastermind. Maybe tomorrow afternoon, there would be a hint of the Mihael Keehl whom Matt had known as a child, but for now he had only Mello. Staring across the council estate with shadows covering half of his face.



A car door slammed down below and Matt automatically glanced to see. He immediately ducked back, out of sight, should either of the men look up. Mello's sharp stare was eloquent enough. Matt had the disquietening notion that a mere word, spoken now, would see his lover commiting murder. The reflected power was intoxicating enough for Matt to know how people lost themselves in it, but far enough out of reach for him to also fear it. Matt had to watch his words now. It would be better to dismiss everything as nothing and to kick himself for having reacted in the first place. People could die if he didn't. Mello was still staring. His eyes hard like blue diamonds, his whole body alert like a predator in sight of its prey. Matt exhaled, a hand gesturing in the air, as he walked away from the window. "It's nothing."



Mello peered back out, committing the faces of the men to memory. "Then why are you leaping back like that?"



"Putting the kettle on." Matt commented mildly. His heart pounded, but he presented a facade of calm aloofness. "Want one?"



"They've obviously done something."



"Honestly, Mello, it's nothing." Matt busied himself with filling kettle. Behind him, there was a sharp click. He turned and saw Mello slotting ammunition into a gun. There was the faintest sneer, then the blond marched out, down the passageway, towards the front door. Matt raced after him. "Mello! It's nothing." Mello waited in the hallway. Staring back, head bowed, his eyes in shadow beneath his fringe. "Mello, please. It's nothing."



"Talk."



Matt lit a cigarette, mostly for something to do. A delaying tactic. Mello continued to watch him and the two men must have disappeared into the building by now. Matt didn't put it past Mello to bang on every door until he found them. Matt blinked. Yes he did. Mello would just wire their car. He could be waiting when they left. Matt's gaze flickered back towards the kitchen, to the window unseen in there. He looked back along the passageway to where Mello was waiting. "It's a matter of my pride, that's all."



Mello smirked. "You have pride, Matty?"



Matt didn't respond. He gestured that it should be left alone and returned to the kitchen. It felt like victory when Mello followed him. It didn't sweeten the awkwardness when Mello proceded to lean against the worktop, watching Matt with the serpentine smile of one who knows he will receive his information. Matt shrugged, saying carefully, "It's before your time."



The amusement died on Mello's expression. "Nothing is before my time."



"You were gone for years."



Mello glared. "What happened?"



Matt closed his eyes and sighed. The gun was suddenly against his temple and, despite himself, Matt tensed. "Ok! You psychopathic shithead! I'll tell you!" Mello retracted the gun and leaned in to cup Matt's chin in hands encased in black leather. A kiss followed. It felt patronising, like Mello silently rewarding him for being a good boy. Matt pushed him away. Not hard, just enough to state that he didn't appreciate the sentiment. Mello just stood there smirking. Matt didn't want to tell him anything. He glared and tried to walk away again. Mello's hand snaked out to tighten in an iron grip around his lover's bicep. Mello's gaze could have cut glass. "His name is Trevor."



"And how did he hurt you?"



"He didn't hurt me. He embarrassed me." Matt winced, his toes curling in memory. "He's someone whom Aimee knows."



Mello nodded encouragement. "He tried it on with you?"



"He beat me at chess."



Mello frowned, confusion flashing through his gaze as he tried to process that. "Because you were pretending you were stupid again? Like when you sabotaged that on-line IQ test thing?"



"No." Matt replied quietly. "Because he is better at chess than I am." As Mello blinked his surprise, Matt pulled away and took his cup of tea into the front room.



It took a few seconds before Mello stalked in after him. His expression was a mixture of derision and cruel delight. "Really?"



"Yes, really." Matt's rolled cigarette wasn't smoking well. He squeezed it, trying to find and loosen the smethwick that was stopping the suction of air. "But that wasn't the worst of it. That was just the icing on the cake." He couldn't look at Mello. The blond man was sinking into his chair with such an aspect of arrogant disdain that Matt just wanted to curl up out of sight. It felt like being at Wammy's House again, where any lapse in mental ability could feel like the end of the world. Lose confidence and it could well be the end of his tenancy. Now Mello was looking at him, not as a friend or a lover, but as a rival ready to pounce on the slightest weakness. If this had been Wammy's House, then Matt wouldn't have even offered a defence. He would have unsettled the opposition with silence and a smirk. Mello was different though. Mello made Matt feel like the defence had better be good. "He's a fucking genius, Mello! He would leave y..." Matt quickly corrected himself, seeing the inevitable consequences should a challenge to Mello be implied. "He left me standing."



"He must have been clever." Mello grinned, savouring his chocolate bar.



"Do you know the song 'Common People' by Pulp? It's a really old song. We were probably about five when it was out. Brit-pop era."



Mello shrugged. "Stop attempting misdirection. Tell me what this Trevor did to you."



"He played 'Common People' on repeat." Matt flinched. He'd finally got his cigarette to draw the smoke and so look a deep drag on it. "Over and over and over a-fucking-gain." He could still feel the humiliation stabbing inside. He could still see the intensity of that gaze over an amused smile. He had closed his eyes, he opened them now to look at Mello. All he received in return was a grin and quizzically raised eyebrows. "You don't know the song."



Mello's cheeks puffed out, but he evidently decided upon honesty. "No. I'd probably know if I heard it." His booted foot was up on the coffee table. He pointed his toes towards the laptop in front of Matt. "Find it and play it for me."



"No!" Matt even surprised himself at the vehemently he refused. "I do not ever want to hear that bloody song again." It dawned on Matt that he was betraying a weakness to Mello; to the one person who could be relied upon to use it. "Let's just drop it now."



Mello stared. "Heh." He licked his chocolate and, for a moment, Matt thought he had got away with it. Then Mello lunged forward and pulled the laptop towards him. The cable snagged, but Mello just pulled it out and retreated back onto his chair with his prize. He was turning the volume up before he'd even found the song. Matt stood up and pulled the router out of the wall. Their internet connection died with it. "Wow!" Mello gasped. "Bad enough for you to survive whole minutes unplugged!"



Matt picked up his PSP and and played that instead, allowing the soft beeps to lull him into a calm place. He was keenly aware of Mello's gaze fixed on him. Matt sighed. "It's a song about a rich kid slumming it with the working-classes. It's about spoiled children of the higher ups, who think it's cool and trendy to hang out with the kids who have nothing. I don't mean to splash their money about. I mean by pretending to be like them. Then, when it all gets too much, they call their daddy to come and get them." Matt frowned. "'Because everybody hates a tourist, especially one who thinks it's all such a laugh'." Mello sniggered and anger flashed through Matt. "That's what he kept saying! That's the line he kept singing!"



"And you thought your Southampton accent was bulletproof."



"Mello! It's not funny!" Matt gripped the PSP hard. "You don't know what these people are like. They have rules and regulations that you'll never find in a book of etiquette and they ravage to death anyone who doesn't comply. He was a fucking genius, Mello. He was sitting in a flat identical to this one and taking the piss. He'd never had money. He said he had a first class degree, but he'd never had a graduate job. He just sat there, not helping himself and blaming the middle classes for it. He goaded me."



"He really got under your skin, didn't he?" Mello was surveying his lover like he was something interesting found in a petridish. "What was it?"



Matt glowered. "Shut up about it now."



"Matty, Matty, Matty, little Matty." Mello had risen from his seat. He slipped onto the settee beside Matt and ran a hand down his back. "Did he mistake you for an aristocrat?" Mello laughed so hard that Matt just wanted to punch his lights out. "Did he think...?"



"Who knows what he thought? He was right! I could call Roger. I could move. I'm educated. I..."



"Hold on." Mello stopped laughing and sat up straight. "You told him about Wammy's House?"



"No!" Matt glared. "For fuck's sake, stop putting words into my mouth. Arse."



Mello grinned at him. His shoulders were still twitching slightly with barely suppressed laughter. "Matt, why are we living in an ex-council flat in the middle of the great unwashed? Do you want me to buy you a nice house in the...?"



"No!" Matt growled. "And get off me. I'm playing this."



"The really amazing thing here is how much you've let this bother you. It's really touched a nerve, hasn't it, Matty?" Mello rose, straddling Matt's lap and effectively pushing the PSP against Matt's chest. "Fuck 'em." There was the sound of a pixel car crashing. "Fuck 'em, Matty." Mello's smirk was a leer. "You don't hang out with them any more anyway." He leaned in for a kiss. "Hang out exclusively with me and I promise not to drag you into some undecipherable class war."



Matt turned his head away. Mello turning this into a joke felt almost as bad as Trevor creating the situation in the first place. He made to speak, but Mello's gloved hand came up and gripped Matt's jaw. His head was turned physically back and Mello claimed his kiss. "Mell..." Matt began to protest, but the kiss went on until he sank into it. There a instant where Matt surrendered, where anxiety and pique over the memory gave way to the probing of Mello's tongue and his lips against his. Matt felt himself doing it and almost struggled, but he wanted this too much. He wanted Mello to walk in here and take him over. He wanted kisses like this that shut him up and put him in his place. Then the moment slid into another, where all that mattered was the tightening of his jeans and the need for the leather-clad man grinding against him. Matt groaned. "Mello!"



Mello's hands were there, removing the dying PSP and lifting Matt's shirt up over his head. A serpentine smirk and hard eyes were briefly eclipsed by the fabric, as it passed Matt's face and dislodged his goggles. Mello pulled them off too, leaning in for another harsh kiss. His fingers found Matt's nipple and teased it out to where it could be pinched. "You want me to hurt you, Matty?"



Matt breathed. The question felt like an interuption. "Yes." He whispered, so to keep the words to a minimum and the actions ongoing. His hand snaked up to unzip Mello's motorcycle vest, but the blond man grabbed his wrist, then the other, and pinned them against the back of the settee. Mello sniffed him, like an animal, before arriving at Matt's neck and closing his teeth over Matt's Adam's apple. Matt moaned, sinking inside him to that place where he went during sex, where it was safe and he floated free of everything. It was tantilisingly there. "Hurt me, Mello. Hurt..." He didn't get any further, before Mello released an arm in order to slap Matt hard across the face. The world blackened momentarily and the redhead saw stars. Mello didn't give him time to recover. He was up and off, hitting Matt again, until he slumped down sidewards onto the cushions, bubbling blood between his lips. Mello laughed as he undid Matt's belt. Matt smiled back and lifted his backside, so that the jeans could be yanked from his body.



Mello paused then. He snorted out a laugh, as he surveyed his prone lover. "You alright there, Matty?"



Matt inwardly shrank in frustration. He just wanted Mello to get on with it. Each word brought him back closer to the surface, when all Matt wanted to do was to sink down below, to where the adrenaline rushed and the endorphins clouded. He knew that it was perverse that, at times of greatest danger, he actually felt safest. He also knew that Mello wouldn't countenance sex without Matt being tied down. Some trigger in the depths of that complex, genius psyche wouldn't allow Mello to not be in absolute control. He had to have his lover where he was too helpless to initiate his own touches. This was fine, as far as Matt was concerned, but right now there was nothing to tie him down with. Right on cue, Mello walked away, no doubt into their bedroom to pick up some handcuffs. Matt sighed and closed his eyes, trying not to lose the headspace in which he occupied.



For all Matt's exasperation, Mello was back quickly. Jogging until he was just a few steps from the settee, then he slowed. Like a panther, in his black leather, skirting with feline movements to pounce on Matt again. Predictably, the handcuffs were there. Mello pulled Matt up, with one hand on his shoulder and another in his red hair, until he was sitting; then the handcuffs secured Matt's arms behind his back. Mollified, Mello smirked. There was the taste of iron in the kiss that passed between them now. Mello's hands, still encased in leather gloves, squeezed at Matt's inner thighs, then cupped his genitals. Matt relaxed again, rising to the need, while knowing that, this time, Mello was likely to just get on with it.



Matt was wrong. Mello teased and bruised, but just when Matt was writhing, with the small bones of his wrists protesting each movement, Mello left him again. Matt lay bereft, groaning his disapproval, gasping with wanton desire. He didn't bother to even guess what the blond was up to this time. Mello was inventive and that was part of the reason that sex with him was so good. Unpredictable, the physical attacks were only part of it. It was the mental and emotional attacks that really undid Matt. He felt wide open and he craved these moments like a junkie. His one concession to reality was to cry out, "Mello, for fuck's sake! Fuck me!"



Mello sniggered somewhere off to his right, hidden by the settee. When the blond rose again to peer over the back, his expression was so amused. Despite himself, Matt felt his heart leap and his eyes widen in sudden alarm, though there was nothing but that smile to prompt it. "Ok." Mello shrugged, like it was of no concern to him whether they did or not. He traced his way back around the settee and crouched before the coffee table, clicking at the laptop. Matt realised what he was doing a split second before it actually happened. He rose swiftly back into himself, reeling but fuelled with anger, just as the opening synthesised notes of 'Common People' filled the speakers. "Get back down." Mello pushed and Matt fell heavily against his bound wrists. A sharp, sickening pain wrenched him and he cried out, but Mello was back on top of him. "You don't get the right to say no to me, Matty." Mello muttered, before Jarvis Cocker started singing and Mello stopped to listen. His whole body pinned Matt down, one hand over Matt's mouth and the other stroking his cock.



Matt inwardly cringed again, hating Mello for this, but also feeding off the implied dominance. He found himself selecting what he wanted to feel. He blocked out the song, whilst becoming turned on by the fact that Mello was playing it despite Matt's embarrassment. It redirected the humiliation into sex and that notion went straight from Matt's brain to his balls. He arched under Mello's administrations and licked the leather fingers pressed into his mouth. He suddenly didn't care about the song, not on an emotional level. He wanted it over solely because then Mello would pay attention again. Matt wanted the attention. He wanted Mello to take him over.



Mello smirked, looking at him, as the music dipped into into silence. Matt was close to the brink, but Mello wasn't here to give him a handjob. The blond removed both hands, leaving Matt gasping for more. "Heh!" Mello laughed, but then his face changed. The amusement was gone and he was gripping Matt's jaw, kissing again with bruising efficiency, while Mello's other hand undid his own belt and the laces of his flies. As soon as he was free, the blows came. Mello sitting up, so that his fists packed more punch. They rained down, with Mello perched on Matt's legs, so that he couldn't curl away to protect himself. At first, Matt automatically did, then he stopped feeling them. It felt like fainting and the world blurred. "Poor little Matty." Mello taunted, but the blows stopped and his legs were released, but only long enough for Mello to push them out of the way. "Is the poor, little boy all picked on?"



Matt couldn't respond. All coherency had gone and he just wanted Mello, in him, on him, crushing him, hurting him, holding him, whatever Mello wanted to do to him. The whole world seemed focused on just his master, blurring out around him, like nothing touched and nothing mattered. Mello entered him easily, no obstacle and barely a surrender of muscles needed, because Matt was ready for him and his body had a pliancy all of its own. Mello's gaze was fierce, intense, as he pounded in, his fingertips leaving marks on Matt's jaw. If there was still pain, Matt couldn't feel it. As if his whole body and psyche had just given in, leaving him free of everything but that narcotic, ethereal Otherworld, wherein his mind flew. He came in a rush, hearing himself screaming Mello's name, but it was a sound divorced from his control. He felt Mello coming inside him. The heat, running down, as Mello withdrew, then more kisses. Matt didn't even know that he had been crying, until the tears dried on his face.



The world came back. For a few seconds, Mello just held him and Matt felt the hug more deeply than he would ever have admitted, even to himself. There was a deep kiss, which was almost tender, though it was merely a full stop on their activities. Mello rose off him and Matt just lay there. There was still no pain, the chemicals flooding his body drowned them out, but slowly Matt felt his limbs returning to his control. Mello was back, placing a lit cigarette between Matt's lips and the nicotine did its work. Matt smiled around it, suppressing the urge to scream, 'gracias!' Mello moved around, collecting clothes and goggles, totally naked and gorgeous. He smiled back and the Mafia seemed drained from his demeanour, like sex could erase it.



It took long minutes and a drink before Matt was sitting up, dressed and freed from his handcuffs, and able to engage in conversation again. Mello sat back down, the leather realigning along established creases, his chocolate in his hand. He smiled at Matt, "I just have to say that that song was fucking hilarious."



Matt swallowed. He had almost forgotten about that. "Fuck off."



"Matty, it's a weakness. Let it go." Mello bit off a jagged length of chocolate and chomped on it. "Next time, just smile and say 'good song'." He leaned forward and refreshed the webpage, so that the song played again. "Never let them get one over on you."



Matt nodded. "'kay."



"Especially not the likes of me." Mello winked, sitting back.



Matt smirked and switched on his PSP. It was good to have Mello back.