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.

For a moment it’s as though Mello has forgotten that he isn’t a small
thirteen-year-old kid but rather a tall, slender twenty-year-old with a
thin, elegant build and long fingers that reach around L’s neck and grab
tight hold of his shoulders.

A twenty-year-old who has long since reached full height and is actually
almost as tall as L, but who nevertheless clings to him completely
and is very willingly at his mercy.

L allows it, thrusting hard against him, head tilted slightly upward
and breath coming fast while Mello holds him and continues kissing his
neck and his face and his shoulder, whatever’s in reach.

“Mello likes this?”

L asks, his fingers wrapped around the hard flesh pressing against his
abdomen, and Mello nods, feverish and out of breath,

“Yes…” he whispers with childlike surrender he wouldn’t show anyone
else.

He gasps and nearly cries and thinks the mere sensation of L’s hand
around him is enough to make him come, and he tries to hold back as much
as he can.

But L doesn’t let go, and his fingers continue moving against him, firm
and slender and somehow gentle, and he can hear L’s breath against his
ear,

“Shall I keep going then?”

“Ah—“

Mello can’t answer, because it feels amazing, but he doesn’t think he
can hold back from—

“Is this what Mello wanted?”

“I—“

L lets go altogether and suddenly his hands grasp Mello’s face and he
seizes his mouth, and Mello whimpers in desperation and breathes hard when
they part, his lips wet and glistening.

And then, before he can say anything more, comes suddenly the shock
of pain when L slaps him hard across the face.

Mello topples to the floor, ankles still bound and eyes wide as he stares
up at the older boy, and slowly his fingers rise to his cheek. It’s still
hot and alive with pain.

Even Matt didn’t hit him this hard.

Matt rushes to his side immediately, but stops at the warning of L’s
hand.

“No,” L says, and then kneels down before Mello, long fingers wrapping
around the leash.

But he doesn’t pull him by the leash.

He pulls him by the hair.

Mello cringes, and Matt watches in stunned silence as L pulls him up
to his knees. Then L stares at Mello in silence, dark eyes large and unblinking,
and after several seconds, he continues,

“Tell me what you really want, Mello-Kun.”

Silence.

Mello stares back, but it isn’t the look of defiance Matt has come to
know and love; it’s a look of actual fear, and Matt knows that even though
Mello could probably defend himself, he wouldn’t dare to try.

Not with L. He knows better.

L still hasn’t let go, and after several seconds have passed and Mello
hasn’t said anything, he says, very calmly,

“Mello wants me to hit him harder.”

Yes—”

It comes almost inaudibly, and before Mello has managed to utter the
full syllable, it comes again, just as hard and painful as before, but
this time he doesn’t fall because L is still holding him by the hair.

Mello glances up through disheveled strands of hair, and he really is
a mess now, and there really are tears in his eyes, and Matt thinks he
can’t watch this, he just can’t watch this, and he remembers L telling
him that he assumes Matt can handle this, but now Matt really thinks he
can’t.

“L, please—“ Matt whispers, but again L tells him to stop.

Mello’s body is still covered by cuts and scrapes and bruises from the
binds, and now he’s bleeding from the corner of his mouth and his face
is pale and Matt thinks he might collapse, and this is more painful to
watch than anything else they’ve done tonight.

L gazes down at Mello without expression and without emotion, and, very
quietly, he continues,

“That’s not it, is it, Mello-kun?”

Mello’s chest rises and falls with slow breaths, and Matt thinks he’s
too terrified to speak, and there’s something very disturbing about this,
because he’s never seen Mello this afraid before.

Mello doesn’t need to reply.

Because L knows.

“Tell me,”

 L says, fingers still grasping his hair and eyes still unmoving,
and now he moves closer to Mello’s face, the words ghosting against his
skin.

“I want—“

Mello speaks at last, voice hoarse and desperate,

“Yes, keep going,” L replies, his lips mere inches from Mello’s, and
the blonde swallows very slowly,

“I want you to—“

L’s lips brush against his, but then he moves away, and he tilts Mello’s
head up to face him. Mello’s eyes squeeze shut when he swallows again,
and he blinks a few times before again they close and he murmurs,

“I want you to tell me exactly what you did with Kira.”

“Ah…” L says, quiet and composed as ever, “…there it is.”

“I want to know—I want to know everything,” Mello breathes, lips dry
and parted and eyes still closed, “I want to know what he was like and
what he did and what it was like when—when you—when you fucked him, and,
and I want to know what he felt like and what he smelled like and what
he tasted like and—“

“That’s enough—“

“And what his body felt like when you held him and—“

“That—“

“—and is he still alive, L, is he still alive—“

This time Mello thinks he didn’t even feel it when it came; he remembers
only the rough brush of the carpet when his face collided against it, and
the faint sound of his hair tearing reverberating through the air and the
iron taste of blood hot against the inside of his lip;

When he comes to, his eyes roll up to gaze at L, and, only part conscious,
he whispers,

I’m sorry.”

Matt can’t take this anymore. He paces across the room and kneels down
at Mello’s side, gathering him into his lap and staring up at L.

L doesn’t stop him this time.

After a long silence, L kneels beside them, too.

“I’m sorry, Mello,” he replies, “but that’s confidential.”

 

To be continued...



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