Matt x Mello

BY : Genevieve
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 8281
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.

L remembers that this really was a difficult case, he remembers with fascination what it was like to know he might die soon, the intense focus he felt simultaneously to investigate and compete with someone remarkably sharp and not entirely stable, and yes, it was interesting, wasn’t it, and also he remembers Light in his arms, he really was very dangerous, but L still liked holding Light in his arms.

You don’t get to choose toward whom to have feelings, do you?

He hasn’t been with anyone else since. He’d always felt affection toward the kids at Wammy’s House, he was interested in hearing their thoughts and reading their projects and listening when they wanted to tell him things, he liked the enthusiasm and admiration with which Mello researched things for him, and really he was okay with this too, it was nice—of course, it wasn’t like with Light—but it was nice.

L, I’m hot,

He remembers Mello tugging at his sleeve a long time ago, it was summer and it really was hot and they couldn’t sleep and L set up a fan beside Mello’s bed, which didn’t do a whole lot of good by itself, but he hoped that if he put it by the window, it would bring air in from the outside, which was still cooler than the air inside.

Mello had watched him carry it in and put it together and adjust it and when L asked him if that was better, Mello nodded quietly and watched him draw back the blinds.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” L smiled as he walked out the door, and Mello replied,

“See you in the morning too,”

But he may well have said I love you more than anything in the world, because that’s what he was thinking.

L knows that Mello and Matt like him. He knows that they are interested in listening to him talk about investigations and cases and criminals and that they like asking him questions about stuff he figured out and stuff he likes and stuff he did, and, really, when matters aren’t dangerous or confidential, he likes talking to them and answering their questions.

And he likes how Mello feels in his arms, lean and warm and bony and soft and really very cute, and, yes, Mello wants to be hurt, and L is willing to deliver, but really, he knows just to what extent he’s willing to deliver.

And Mello thinks he’s never felt so secure. His head buried in the crook of Matt’s neck, he breathes out with hot desperation, hair bouncing softly and arms wrapped tightly around him, and Matt holds him and tries uselessly to subdue him, lips pressed against his forehead and eyes gazing at L.

L, who is smiling with serene composure, whose eyes are softly shut, whose long fingers grasp tightly at Mello’s thin waist, and he laughs inwardly when he remembers that, long ago, Mello told him that L was his favorite person and that he would very much like to visit his home planet one day.

“L,” Matt says, hand brushing through Mello’s hair as the blonde gasps hard against him, “I think he’d like being able to see you.”

L continues for a few moments and then stops, trying to catch his breath as he thinks.

“Don’t go,” Mello’s voice comes dry and hoarse, and he does not move his head from Matt’s shoulder; he doesn’t want L to withdraw, but he does, and, very gently, Matt unravels the boy’s limbs from around him and hands him to L, who gathers him into his arms and brushes the hair back from his face and inspects him slowly.

He kisses Mello’s forehead and then his cheek and his ear and his neck, and then he reaches for the uppermost latch binding the brace to the lateral chains and, one by one, unfastens the metal hooks, and then the ones reaching lower to the legs and feet until they all hang disconnected and loose, and then, looking directly into Mello’s eyes, the laces and binds securing his arms and wrists, and there are many of these, layer upon layer upon layer that they had spent a long time putting on, until at last his hands are free.

And then, lifting him off the ground with strength neither Mello nor Matt ever thought he had, L smiles at Mello and, quietly, he says,

“Go ahead, Mello-kun.”

Mello doesn’t move for several moments. He all but hangs loose from L’s grasp, looking down at him with lethargy and confusion.

“L…” he mouths dryly, and his fingers reach toward him and run tentatively through his dark hair, and it’s just as nice as he remembers it from the last time he did that many years ago.

And then his fingers trace the bony line of his mandible to his chin and then his lips and he stops there and gazes at him silently, eyes tired and blinking and limbs aching and throat parched;

He throws his arms around L’s neck and seizes his mouth, fingers pressing hard against the articulations at his shoulders and chest tight against him, and he, himself, doesn’t quite understand what he’s doing or why, but he thinks he’s never wanted anything so much.

L allows this for some time until he all but loses his balance and attempts to put Mello down, but Mello clings hard and does not let go, until they both collapse against the edge of the desk and Mello presses L down on the flat surface and then, still bound at the ankles, he climbs up after him, and, very slowly, he leans in to kiss the place on his chest where Matt had cut him earlier. Then, hair falling against him, he whispers something that L can’t hear, and, grasping hard at the bony hips, he dives toward his abdomen, and despite protests and warnings and attempts to pull him back, he takes him past his lips and into his mouth hard against the back of his throat, and eyes squeezed shut, he does not let go, he does not let go.

“M-Mello-Kun,” L says quietly, pulling at his hair, “this isn’t why I untied you.”

Mello still does not let go.

L and Matt stare at him for several seconds in silence until finally he eases up on the boy’s hips and withdraws very slowly.

He gazes at L through rogue strands of hair, tongue brushing against the member firm and tight in his hand, and, very quietly, he murmurs,

“Please forgive me, L—ever since I saw Matt do that to you, I wanted—“

He trails off, taking him in again, and then, eyes closed, and lips brushing against the skin at his mouth, whispers,

“But that’s a lie—I’ve always wanted to—“

And then he kisses L’s stomach and his hips and his thighs and, lips red and wet, continues down and runs his tongue against him with strange hunger, and L wants to tell him to stop but, face flushed, he lies devastated in the cruel realization that this leaves dreams awakened and lost memories unfurled,

Light, do you know?

Thin, white fingers trace the ridges of vertebrae at Mello’s neck and his shoulders and arms and that’s as far down as he can reach, and, breath soft and slow, he whispers,

“Mello—stop—don’t you want me to—“

“Yes,” comes the reply, but he doesn’t stop, not until at last comes a gentle tug at the leash long forgotten and still clasped at his neck.

Mello’s eyes roll up to look at L gazing down at him, and the older boy pets his hair and smiles,

“Matt-kun thinks you’d like to be able to see me.”


To be continued…


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