Poisoned Rationality

Matt looked up from his game to find Mello fully dressed to the extent of wearing his jacket and boots. The notion hit like a train that his lover was leaving. He looked around for a bag, but there was none. Mello sat down on the coffee table and surveyed him. He bit off a tiny chunk of chocolate and looked very pensive. Matt\'s mouth suddenly felt very dry. He paused the game. He reasoned that he could keep silent and prolong the agony for them both, or he could speak. "Where are you going, Mihael?"



Mello was failing at hiding anxiety underneath a neutral expression. "That depends on you."



"What do I have to do to persuade you not to leave me?"



"What?" Mello burst out. "Ok, let\'s start this conversation again." He paused, the chocolate reappearing melted between his teeth before being sucked into his mouth again. "Actually before we do, can I just ask a question please? Why am I suddenly Mihael? You\'ve been calling me that ever since..."



"You\'ve been mostly calling me Mail for three weeks. You\'ve only just switched back to Matt." Matt shrugged, holding the controller usefully on his lap. "Would you prefer I went back to Mello?"



"It\'s probably s... more sensible." Mello smiled reassurance. "I\'m dressed because I didn\'t want to pressure you. I\'m about to ask you how we\'re going to play this, because it\'s getting late. If we\'re going to go to a hotel, we need to find one. If you want me to pull a mattress into here, then it\'s probably best to do that before we piss the neighbours off even more than we have. If you\'re going to want to come into our bedroom, then, well, maybe I didn\'t have to get dressed, but I didn\'t want you to look at me and think \'this is sex\'."



Matt snorted. The laughter rolled up from his gut and erupted into spluttering chuckles, pressed down by a gloved hand. "You walk in here, like that!" He indicated the rest of the room. "You sit down there, like that! All scrubbed up and covered in leather, looking at me, like that! Playing with chocolate in your mouth, like that! And you think I\'m not going to think \'this is sex\'?" His mouth fixed into a tittering smile. "Orly?"



"I\'m trying not to flirt or anything." Mello replied morosely.



"Mello, you flirt." Matt grinned. "You look sexy when you\'ve got the flu. You fart and bletch and you look sexy. You flirt by breathing."



Mello blushed and looked away. "Thank you. But the fact remains that I\'ve covered up as much as I could..."



"In tight-fitting leather."



Mello stood. "I\'ll be right back." He was gone nearly a minute and returned in a red jacket, fake far hood pulled up over his head and hands pressed in his pocket.



"That\'s your attempt at not looking sexy?" Matt appeared to be looking at his screen, his pixel character driving a car through vice-ridden streets.



"Yes."



"Well, it\'s an epic fail." A wide grin appeared beneath the goggles. "Would it help if I just said, \'yes please I would like to sleep with you\'?" He paused the game again, but this time switched it off. "As long as you take an oath not to be gentle with me or talk about safety. I want to feel your belt."



Mello nodded and walked to his side. He carefully put the controller onto the floor, glanced around for any other obstructions, then placed one boot on the floor at the far side of Matt. He reached down, hooking his arms under Matt\'s and pulled him to his feet. Matt smiled at him, suppressing the concerns he had deep inside. Only Mello\'s eyes, veiled in blond hair, and his nose could be seen behind the fur. Matt reached to untie the toggle in order to see him better, pushing the hood back onto Mello\'s shoulders before meeting him for a kiss. "Let\'s do it now, Matt, before either of us get cold feet."



"Meaning me?" Matt injected as much sassiness into the comment as possible, but his stomach was fluttering.



"\'Us\' generally refers to more than one person." Mello tucked his arm around Matt\'s waist and helped support him past the suite and to the bedroom door. It was closed. "Never forget that the ball\'s in your court. No means no and stop means stop these days, whatever happened in the past."



"What does, \'stop fussing and open the door\' mean?"



"I\'m opening it." Mello turned the handle and revealed a room transformed. Matt had heard noises from that direction, but had assumed that it had been Mello stacking things in the spare room. It hadn\'t been. It had been the bedroom furniture being rearranged. The chest of drawers and wardrobe stood together against the wall where the headboard had been, the bed itself was now across the room turned around to face a different direction. The jug, pills and shackles had disappeared. A hitherto unseen picture medal was draped over Mello\'s side of the headboard; it depicted someone in Biblical dress with outstretched arms. A GameBoy Advanced rested on the bedside cabinet on Matt\'s side. The whole room was extraordinarily tidy. "Is it ok?"



Matt nodded. "Who\'s the saint? Only remember what happened last time we had something Catholic in here? "



"There is always something Catholic in here when we are. Me."



Matt slipped away from Mello\'s arms and sat on the bed. He lifted the medal and read the name. "St Jerome. What did he do?" He watched Mello carefully, then noticed a mark on the wall in the shape of a cross. "How have you...?" Realization dawned. "You had a cross up behind our wardrobe?"



"Yes." Mello whispered, hands pressed back into his pockets.



"Which is presumably now back behind the wardrobe." Matt\'s eyes searched for more. "Somewhere, concealed in this room are bound to be the rest. I\'ve stained the wallpaper with my cigarettes, so I can see where you removed them. Fetch them out, Mello. If it means that much to you to create a shrine of our bedroom, the least you can do is not hide it. As long as none of them ever breathed a word that contradicts what we do in this bed. I don\'t care, honestly, but I care if you are freaked out halfway through having your dick sucked."



Mello blushed. "St Jerome is the Patron Saint of Croatia."



"He can stay."



"He wrote a about Hell and homosexuality."



"He can go in the kitchen then." Matt held out the medal. "Fetch Mary in here. We chatted in Japan and She\'s alright." He limped over to the chest of drawers. "Who\'s this?"



"That\'s Mary." Mello bit his lip. "The little medal is Archangel Michael."



"Fiery sword and defeating the Devil?" Matt checked and received an amused nod in response. "How about Archangel Michael coming to live on our headboard instead? Go get St Jerome the... out of here and I\'ll sort Michael out." He made his way to the bed again and sat shakily upon it. Mello nodded and rushed to place the saint out of sight. The second he was gone, Matt\'s face fell and he took some deep breaths, looking around. It certainly looked and felt like a different room. He noted that, if they retained the same sides of the bed, it was now Mello who was closest to the door. That might have to be worked on. Matt had always secretly liked the fact that if a mad, machete-wielding ninja had invaded their territory, it would have to get past him before it reached Mello.



Mello returned, standing nervously in the middle of the floor again, still zipped up inside his red jacket. "I\'ve put him on the cupboard door in the kitchen."



"Ok." Matt draped the medal over the bedpost and looked up. Awkwardness hung in the air between them. "I\'m alright. You?" Mello nodded, but looked frightened. "No, you\'re not. You were fine while you had a whole flat to put right, now you\'re stuck with me, an Archangel and the Mother of God. Do you want a hug?"



"I meant what I said earlier." Mello whispered. He coughed and tried again. "Can I show you something?"



Matt nodded, his mind whizzing through the million things that Mello had said to him today and trying to determine which one, precisely, was in the spotlight now. Mello turned away and was still for a few moments. "Are you...?"



Mello raised a gloved hand and Matt fell silent. The blond peeped back over his shoulder and the smile, the promise in his eyes, was as coquettish has it had ever been in the past. There was the sound of a zip being undone and a shrug. The red jacket slipped off his shoulder, revealing a strip of leather over cream-white skin. He leaned back and the other side fell down too. He held the jacket inside the sleeves and let it move, inch by inch, fur against leather, down his back and dipping below his waist. It was nothing that Matt hadn\'t seen before, but the movements and the gaze elevated it to much more. The red jacket fell to the floor and Mello\'s gloved hands traced up his own body. He exhaled and it sounded more like a gasp. Matt felt suddenly very warm. Mello turned and the look in his eyes was pure wanton innocence. One hand touched his hip-bone, so close but so far away from those laces and he danced. The Goddess Ishtar, bewitching the sacred courtesans, could not have projected sex and desire quite like Mello did removing his leather vest and belt. By the time the laces hung lose and the gloves were thrown, Matt was lying back on the bed, eyes wide, mouth open and hard as Hell. Mello smirked, head on one side and came to sit beside him. Locking the redhead into place with a prolonged look, the boots were the next to go, then Mello sprang up again. He stood inches away from Matt\'s legs as Mello shimmied out of the leather trousers and stood naked before him. "Fóllame, Matty."



Matt finally remembered to breathe at the instruction, in Spanish, to fuck him. His mouth slowly closed within a crimson face, as he recalled Mello\'s earlier suggestion that he be topped. That he, Mail Jeevas, enter that tight, sexy arse and rode him to the inevitable conclusion. What had seemed untenable then now appeared imminiently possible. He met those blue eyes and realised that Mello was still smiling at him. The bastard knew precisely what he was doing. "Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?" The question was lost, as Mello wriggled forward and sat on his lap. The goggles came off and were held out for a moment in one languidly outstretched arm, before being dropped to the carpet. Next came Matt\'s striped top, rising with precision movement, over his arms and over his head. His exposed chest was swarmed with hands and kisses, then Mello slipped off him, lying enticingly on the bed. Matt crawled, like a bee after honey, to be drawn into those arms. He was barefoot already and his jeans suddenly didn\'t seem to fit quite right.



Kisses rained down between them, both of their hands passing over every inch of flesh they could find to caress. Mello\'s hand found Matt\'s in the middle of it and moved it down to his belt. In a fumbling rush, Matt undid his buckle and undid his belt, but faltered at the buttons. Mello was there, helping, opening his flies, then was clawing at his back, his kisses hot and needy. Matt pulled his own jeans down, relief in his loins as his hardness popped free of the boxers. Mello wasn\'t satisfied though, easing down the boxers until Matt took over and shed them. It was frenzied, like a dream, and Matt never could have pinpointed the exact moment when the blond turned and he entered Mello\'s arse for the first time. Consciousness only seemed to take over as Matt encountered an obstruction and Mello groaned into the pillow. "Shit, Mell, I..."



"Keep going." Mello turned that entrancing smile back onto him and the spell was woven again. Somewhere in the midst of it, it occurred to Matt that he was topping Mello, but the knowledge didn\'t reach his anxiety. He just kept right on going until they were both lying, drenched in their own sweat, sated and breathless.



Matt eased himself out and thought to check that his lover wasn\'t bleeding or injured or something, but Mello chose that moment to grab him and throw him off the bed onto the floor. The sudden violence was breathtaking. The hand in his hair, the grip under his arm dragging him along. Mello stood over him by the radiator, swooping down with a libertine smile and that shameless look in his eyes. Matt\'s hands were yanked above his head and handcuffs clicked over them, attaching him to the radiator. Crashing against the metal, Matt was astounded to find it cold. He had been convinced that the heating was on. Before he could collect a single thought, there was a snapping sound and pain raged across a strip of his naked back. Mello stood watching him, the belt wrapped around his hand and Matt could not have said where either it or the handcuffs had come from. "Whooo!"



"Like this, Matt? Your special request?" Mello sniggered and the belt came down again. "And there you are, hard again, you really are a fucking whore, Matty." The belt smacked for a third time, this time it bruised his backside. Matt shrieked and Mello raised a hand. "Oops, forgotten something." He stepped away, initially in the wrong direction, before doubling back to where the chest of drawer now stood. Returning with a gag, he kissed Matt\'s lips harshly before shutting him up. "Where was I? Oh! Yes." The belt left marks across his lover\'s stomach and came down immediately afterwards to score his thigh. It descended until the redhead whimpered and Mello paused in the act of bringing it down again. "Enough?" Matt struggled onto his knees, spitting saliva around the confines of his gag, and his eyes flashed the dare before his thighs gave way and he hit the ground again. "Right." Mello hit him twice more before unlocking the handcuffs just long enough to free him from the radiator pipes, then using them to tow Matt into the centre of the carpet. Mello covered and entered him right there, with rough, angry thrusts, taking them to the edge and over. "God, I love you."