Motive and Mayhem
folder
Death Note › Yaoi-Male/Male › Mello/Matt
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
17
Views:
3,575
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Death Note › Yaoi-Male/Male › Mello/Matt
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
17
Views:
3,575
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Death Note, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Threshold
SPOILERS: All manga, all anime, L's true name, Another Note, Law and Right, Truth and Justice.
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Motive and Mayhem
Chapter 8: Threshold
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The shriek didn't sound like it belonged to him at all. In fact, it sounded downright feminine, like a young girl screaming at a rodent that was running underfoot.
Then again, strange sounds could come from a man when a bucket of ice was dumped in his lap. Especially when that man was naked and extremely aroused.
If Mello had not already sworn to murder Matt in cold blood, and if he were actually capable of speech at the moment, he would have done so again. He had curled his legs up, squirmed and rolled over to get the ice away from him as quickly as possible. He had been fortunate enough to see the attack coming and had been able to remember that rolling to the left would not result in another fall off the bed.
The unfortunate side effect, however, was that his ass was now in the air, his face pressed into the bed as he struggled to recover from the cold. He was so distracted that he never saw the second attack coming until it was too late and another high-pitched noise scrabbled from his throat as Matt pushed an ice cube into him.
That time he did tumble off the bed as he tried to jerk away. He wound up on the floor, curled miserably in the fetal position and trying his damndest to protect himself from the vicious predator that was Matt. There was going to be fucking hell to pay for this humiliation.
For the moment, though, he was being left alone. The sound of ice tumbling against plastic told him that Matt was gathering the ice up again, probably saving it for another attack later. He shuddered when the ice cube within him melted enough to leak down his thighs. He was exhausted, so much that he couldn't even think about getting to his feet and he'd be damned if he shuffled around on his knees.
"You're going to submit to me," Matt said lazily as he came around the bed, hefted Mello into his arms, dumped him back onto the bed. "No matter how long it takes," because frankly, Matt didn't have any alternatives. If this didn't work, if he was forced to give up, it was the end of everything he'd spent so long putting into place. He was prepared to spend a full week working with Mello and he'd carefully watched Mello's reaction to him to choose the right week and maximize his chance at success.
Even now, it was still at toss up as to whether Mello would ever give in, still a gamble. He'd been counting cards, but sometimes the house would sneak in a statistically improbable win. Matt was hoping that luck was on his side as he looked down at the exhausted, furious Mello.
It was wearing him down, Matt was certain of that much, but just how much longer would it take? Ten hours had passed already, and he was determined to make Mello use the word master before he came. Which meant that Matt had to be very careful about how long Mello remained aroused. It was troublesome, but the little details were often the most important, and inconsistency now would undermine everything in the future.
He needed to have Mello's complete and total submission, just in case. He needed that trump card, the one thing he could use to force Mello's hand if his secrets were ever uncovered. It was, he supposed, a poor reason to create a more formal BDSM relationship, but he did quite enjoy dominating Mello. This would just make it a little more fun, give him a little extra security.
Besides, his emotions were real enough, even if he had an ulterior motive. So, he took a moment to gaze at Mello, at the beautiful, ferocious creature that would soon belong to him and him alone. The thought gave him a warm, lazy smile. "We've got all week and sooner or later, you will submit."
"Fuck you," Mello actually spat at him.
Matt wiped away the spit, raised an eyebrow at it and tisked softly. "Well, then. It seems punishment is in order."
A twinge of fear twisted in Mello's stomach, but he hid it with a furious glower. "You think you know punishment? I'll show you punishment the fucking second I'm out of these god damn handcuffs," he snarled, his eyes narrowing as he watched Matt pull a... good Christ, it was a leather paddle. Fury, mortification and more than a little terror wormed its way through him as Matt slapped the leather paddle against a palm, testing the sound.
Mello was back to squirming, cursing and yelling when he was rolled onto his stomach, yanked to the edge of the bed until he was kneeling next to it, bent over. Matt reached up, pushing Mello’s arms out of the way and using his weight to pin his chest to the bed.
"Here's how this is going to work," Matt said lightly. "I'm going to spank you. You're going to count them. When your count reaches ten, you'll be done. Every one you refuse or forget to count will not be one of the ten."
He swung the paddle and was quite satisfied by the yelp that Mello let out. It didn't really hurt, rather, it startled him, left his ass tingling and his pride bruised as he shoved his face into the bedspread. He didn't count, not after ten spankings, not after twenty.
Matt's mental count reached fifty-seven before Mello started cursing him. It reached seventy before the squirming started in earnest, eighty by the time the first tears squeezed their way free from Mello's eyes. At ninety, the first number left Mello's lips.
After the one hundredth spanking, Matt tossed the paddle aside and sat on the bed, gently pulling Mello into his lap. He made hushing noises as Mello hissed, grimacing and hiding his face against Matt's shoulder.
"I hate you. I fucking hate you and I'm going to strangle you with your own intestines," Mello didn't sound terribly threatening through the heavy breathing that accompanied his furious tears. He was mortified, his ass was stinging like nothing he'd ever felt before and here Matt was, acting as if he were all the sudden a kind and caring friend. "And then I'm going to burn you myself. With a flame thrower. Before I take a bat to your charred, putrid corpse and break every fucking bone in your body, right down to the god damn metacarpals."
Matt only chuckled, kissing Mello's forehead. The first barrier had been overcome at long last. "It wouldn't have been so bad if you'd start counting at the first strike."
"I don't fucking care," Mello snapped out, curling his legs up, moving his face from Matt's shoulder to his own knees, despite the way it intensified the pain in his ass. He said nothing when he was put back on the bed, when Matt turned the covers down and tucked him beneath them -- and actually had the decency to not put him under the wet area where the ice had partially melted.
Still, he said nothing, remained grumpily silent when he was more or less given permission to get some sleep. So, permission or no, he curled up and allowed himself to drop off to sleep.
The next morning was even more humiliating. His hands remained bound through the morning rituals. Mainly, it meant that Matt helped him to take his morning leak, then literally brushed his teeth for him. It was more embarrassing than anything but then, he supposed that was probably the point of it all.
Little did he know, this was only the beginning. That week was to be one of the longest in his life and it was only the first day. Once again, he was handcuffed to the bathroom sink while Matt went about his morning business, fully clothed while Mello was forced to remain naked. Matt ignored the glares, snarls and threats that were directed at him and instead took a few hours to play video games while Mello sulked in discomfort.
Much to Mello's surprise, sometime later the bathroom door was closed on him and he could hear the main door to the hotel room being closed as well. Matt was leaving him. Alone, naked, handcuffed to the fucking sink like some sort of prisoner.
He snarled and wore out his temper by kicking at the door. It was a cheap door and all too soon it had splintered and bowed inwards. Of course, it was just Mello's luck that one of the splinters stabbed him in the foot and stuck there when he yanked his leg away. He hissed in pain as he looked down at it, but there was no way to get it out, not with his arms in such an awkward position behind him. He was just going to have to rely on Matt. Fucking Matt.
He kicked the door with his other foot and got a second splinter for his trouble. To salvage a little of his pride, he told himself that the splinters were all Matt's fault, that everything in the situation right then was Matt's fault.
It felt like hours passed before Matt finally returned, opening the door and tisking softly at the damage, the splinters. Carefully, Matt removed the splinters, administered some antibiotic cream to the wounds and put a bandage over each one. He nearly got kicked in the face for the trouble, but he took it in stride, releasing Mello from the sink once again and helping him to his feet.
Cursing softly with each step, Mello limped in the direction he was guided, plopping down in a seat when Matt nudged him into it. He frowned, looking at the food that had been spread out on the table, his gaze rising to Matt once more. He didn't like the fact that everything was messy. Spaghetti, creamed spinach, garlic bread with a tomato and basil topping in a makeshift bruschetta. At least the drink had a straw poking over the rim.
"You have three choices," Matt announced lightly. "You can let me feed you, you can eat on your own, or you can refuse the food all together."
The lazy snarl of Mello's stomach made it clear that option three was out of the question. He scowled at Matt, weighed the amount of bruising his pride would take for the two options at hand. With a snarl and a vague uneasiness, he announced his decision in the haughtiest, most arrogant tone he could muster at the moment.
"You can fucking feed me if you don't get me messy."
~!~!~!~!~!~
A/N: And another chapter! Yay! My writers block is so gone and I'm happy~! Expect more within 24 hours! =3 There's at least one or two chapters left in this little flashback. Also, a small disclaimer: I’m fairly certain that the BDSM community would frown upon Matt’s methods, as they’re quite illegal here in the United States and rather unethical. That said, I’m (still) no expert on the BDSM lifestyle so take everything you read here with a grain of salt.
~!~!~!~!~!~
Motive and Mayhem
Chapter 8: Threshold
~!~!~!~!~!~
The shriek didn't sound like it belonged to him at all. In fact, it sounded downright feminine, like a young girl screaming at a rodent that was running underfoot.
Then again, strange sounds could come from a man when a bucket of ice was dumped in his lap. Especially when that man was naked and extremely aroused.
If Mello had not already sworn to murder Matt in cold blood, and if he were actually capable of speech at the moment, he would have done so again. He had curled his legs up, squirmed and rolled over to get the ice away from him as quickly as possible. He had been fortunate enough to see the attack coming and had been able to remember that rolling to the left would not result in another fall off the bed.
The unfortunate side effect, however, was that his ass was now in the air, his face pressed into the bed as he struggled to recover from the cold. He was so distracted that he never saw the second attack coming until it was too late and another high-pitched noise scrabbled from his throat as Matt pushed an ice cube into him.
That time he did tumble off the bed as he tried to jerk away. He wound up on the floor, curled miserably in the fetal position and trying his damndest to protect himself from the vicious predator that was Matt. There was going to be fucking hell to pay for this humiliation.
For the moment, though, he was being left alone. The sound of ice tumbling against plastic told him that Matt was gathering the ice up again, probably saving it for another attack later. He shuddered when the ice cube within him melted enough to leak down his thighs. He was exhausted, so much that he couldn't even think about getting to his feet and he'd be damned if he shuffled around on his knees.
"You're going to submit to me," Matt said lazily as he came around the bed, hefted Mello into his arms, dumped him back onto the bed. "No matter how long it takes," because frankly, Matt didn't have any alternatives. If this didn't work, if he was forced to give up, it was the end of everything he'd spent so long putting into place. He was prepared to spend a full week working with Mello and he'd carefully watched Mello's reaction to him to choose the right week and maximize his chance at success.
Even now, it was still at toss up as to whether Mello would ever give in, still a gamble. He'd been counting cards, but sometimes the house would sneak in a statistically improbable win. Matt was hoping that luck was on his side as he looked down at the exhausted, furious Mello.
It was wearing him down, Matt was certain of that much, but just how much longer would it take? Ten hours had passed already, and he was determined to make Mello use the word master before he came. Which meant that Matt had to be very careful about how long Mello remained aroused. It was troublesome, but the little details were often the most important, and inconsistency now would undermine everything in the future.
He needed to have Mello's complete and total submission, just in case. He needed that trump card, the one thing he could use to force Mello's hand if his secrets were ever uncovered. It was, he supposed, a poor reason to create a more formal BDSM relationship, but he did quite enjoy dominating Mello. This would just make it a little more fun, give him a little extra security.
Besides, his emotions were real enough, even if he had an ulterior motive. So, he took a moment to gaze at Mello, at the beautiful, ferocious creature that would soon belong to him and him alone. The thought gave him a warm, lazy smile. "We've got all week and sooner or later, you will submit."
"Fuck you," Mello actually spat at him.
Matt wiped away the spit, raised an eyebrow at it and tisked softly. "Well, then. It seems punishment is in order."
A twinge of fear twisted in Mello's stomach, but he hid it with a furious glower. "You think you know punishment? I'll show you punishment the fucking second I'm out of these god damn handcuffs," he snarled, his eyes narrowing as he watched Matt pull a... good Christ, it was a leather paddle. Fury, mortification and more than a little terror wormed its way through him as Matt slapped the leather paddle against a palm, testing the sound.
Mello was back to squirming, cursing and yelling when he was rolled onto his stomach, yanked to the edge of the bed until he was kneeling next to it, bent over. Matt reached up, pushing Mello’s arms out of the way and using his weight to pin his chest to the bed.
"Here's how this is going to work," Matt said lightly. "I'm going to spank you. You're going to count them. When your count reaches ten, you'll be done. Every one you refuse or forget to count will not be one of the ten."
He swung the paddle and was quite satisfied by the yelp that Mello let out. It didn't really hurt, rather, it startled him, left his ass tingling and his pride bruised as he shoved his face into the bedspread. He didn't count, not after ten spankings, not after twenty.
Matt's mental count reached fifty-seven before Mello started cursing him. It reached seventy before the squirming started in earnest, eighty by the time the first tears squeezed their way free from Mello's eyes. At ninety, the first number left Mello's lips.
After the one hundredth spanking, Matt tossed the paddle aside and sat on the bed, gently pulling Mello into his lap. He made hushing noises as Mello hissed, grimacing and hiding his face against Matt's shoulder.
"I hate you. I fucking hate you and I'm going to strangle you with your own intestines," Mello didn't sound terribly threatening through the heavy breathing that accompanied his furious tears. He was mortified, his ass was stinging like nothing he'd ever felt before and here Matt was, acting as if he were all the sudden a kind and caring friend. "And then I'm going to burn you myself. With a flame thrower. Before I take a bat to your charred, putrid corpse and break every fucking bone in your body, right down to the god damn metacarpals."
Matt only chuckled, kissing Mello's forehead. The first barrier had been overcome at long last. "It wouldn't have been so bad if you'd start counting at the first strike."
"I don't fucking care," Mello snapped out, curling his legs up, moving his face from Matt's shoulder to his own knees, despite the way it intensified the pain in his ass. He said nothing when he was put back on the bed, when Matt turned the covers down and tucked him beneath them -- and actually had the decency to not put him under the wet area where the ice had partially melted.
Still, he said nothing, remained grumpily silent when he was more or less given permission to get some sleep. So, permission or no, he curled up and allowed himself to drop off to sleep.
The next morning was even more humiliating. His hands remained bound through the morning rituals. Mainly, it meant that Matt helped him to take his morning leak, then literally brushed his teeth for him. It was more embarrassing than anything but then, he supposed that was probably the point of it all.
Little did he know, this was only the beginning. That week was to be one of the longest in his life and it was only the first day. Once again, he was handcuffed to the bathroom sink while Matt went about his morning business, fully clothed while Mello was forced to remain naked. Matt ignored the glares, snarls and threats that were directed at him and instead took a few hours to play video games while Mello sulked in discomfort.
Much to Mello's surprise, sometime later the bathroom door was closed on him and he could hear the main door to the hotel room being closed as well. Matt was leaving him. Alone, naked, handcuffed to the fucking sink like some sort of prisoner.
He snarled and wore out his temper by kicking at the door. It was a cheap door and all too soon it had splintered and bowed inwards. Of course, it was just Mello's luck that one of the splinters stabbed him in the foot and stuck there when he yanked his leg away. He hissed in pain as he looked down at it, but there was no way to get it out, not with his arms in such an awkward position behind him. He was just going to have to rely on Matt. Fucking Matt.
He kicked the door with his other foot and got a second splinter for his trouble. To salvage a little of his pride, he told himself that the splinters were all Matt's fault, that everything in the situation right then was Matt's fault.
It felt like hours passed before Matt finally returned, opening the door and tisking softly at the damage, the splinters. Carefully, Matt removed the splinters, administered some antibiotic cream to the wounds and put a bandage over each one. He nearly got kicked in the face for the trouble, but he took it in stride, releasing Mello from the sink once again and helping him to his feet.
Cursing softly with each step, Mello limped in the direction he was guided, plopping down in a seat when Matt nudged him into it. He frowned, looking at the food that had been spread out on the table, his gaze rising to Matt once more. He didn't like the fact that everything was messy. Spaghetti, creamed spinach, garlic bread with a tomato and basil topping in a makeshift bruschetta. At least the drink had a straw poking over the rim.
"You have three choices," Matt announced lightly. "You can let me feed you, you can eat on your own, or you can refuse the food all together."
The lazy snarl of Mello's stomach made it clear that option three was out of the question. He scowled at Matt, weighed the amount of bruising his pride would take for the two options at hand. With a snarl and a vague uneasiness, he announced his decision in the haughtiest, most arrogant tone he could muster at the moment.
"You can fucking feed me if you don't get me messy."
~!~!~!~!~!~
A/N: And another chapter! Yay! My writers block is so gone and I'm happy~! Expect more within 24 hours! =3 There's at least one or two chapters left in this little flashback. Also, a small disclaimer: I’m fairly certain that the BDSM community would frown upon Matt’s methods, as they’re quite illegal here in the United States and rather unethical. That said, I’m (still) no expert on the BDSM lifestyle so take everything you read here with a grain of salt.