Matt x Mello

BY : Genevieve
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 8296
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.

Mello’s blue eyes dart from L to Matt and back as the two go on washing him, Matt fully dressed and L completely naked, and they exchange words and sentences between them that Mello can and sometimes can’t hear,

They are polite and kind to one another, L quiet and gentle and Matt somewhat more bold but still shy, and Mello watches curiously, a bit breathless when Matt says something that makes L look up and smile and laugh just a little and brush his dark hair behind his ear.

He reaches his arms backward, feeling the dull pain of many marks and scratches pulled with the stretching of skin, and he likes that he’s naked. He’s usually naked—almost by force of habit, upon his entrance through the front door to their apartment, he begins unzipping and unlacing and undoing the various fastening binds of his clothes, almost as if they were in his way all day until that time. And even when Matt says nothing, his awareness is unmistakable, and he has all but gotten used to the firm sensation of Mello’s naked hip against his cheek when, in the midst of a phone conversation, the older boy would walk past Matt as he sat on the couch, hand sliding under the bony ridge of his chin just to press his face against him for the briefest of moments, as if in a cruel reminder that this is what Mello is too busy to do with him right then.

He smiles inwardly, fingertips sliding across the hard, straight length of his shoulder as he watches the two, until at last Matt catches his glance from the corner of his eye. He says something to L before placing the sponge down on the side of the tub and then approaches Mello again. Matt’s long fingers travel through the wet strands of Mello’s hair and his pointed nose brushes past the boy’s temple against his ear, where, lips moving wetly, he murmurs, “Mello, you’re so fucking sexy,” and “do you know what I’m gonna do to you when we get back home,” and, fingertip pressing lightly against the blonde’s lip, “are you awake enough to understand?”

And L has to stop running the sponge against Mello’s arm because now that Matt has moved closer and Mello pulls him in, lips moving against Matt’s finger and eyes rolling up in a mockery of innocence as me murmurs, “So what are you gonna do to me when we get home? You wanna fuck me, Matt?”

He’s very tired and all but covered in scratches and marks, but he nevertheless pulls him closer in and urges him farther, “you wanna do it to me now, don’t you,” he whispers, “and if I asked you to, you would,” his tongue reaches out to run briefly against Matt’s lip, “isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Matt replies, and the tail end of his words comes muffled because he’s already kissing Mello, palm stretched out against the wall behind them as he seizes his mouth. Wet arms come all around Matt’s back, drenching his shirt and pulling him closer until he’s partway in the water with Mello, and soon his hair is wet and his chest too and finally Mello pulls him in entirely, and it’s a horrible mess now with water and soap everywhere.

And soon it isn’t just kissing, it’s practically sex with clothes on, until, breathless and laughing, Mello withdraws at last, tearing away and tilting his head back to breathe.

Anyone would have gotten a kick out of watching them devour one another like that—anyone, that is, but L, Mello knows this, and, sadly, he understands that the reason the older boy gazes at them in wide-eyed speculation, finger at his lips, is not from perverse curiosity but rather—oh, it’s all too obvious—rather because it makes him think of something else.

Mello knows that L still has a meeting after this and that, really, they haven’t got much time left, but there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to let go, and, sliding closer to L, he reaches one hand out from under the water and brushes away the moist strands that have fallen in his eyes. L’s white hands slide away from his hips as Mello’s arms come wetly around his waist and he watches quietly as the blonde presses his head against his abdomen. Mello knows L is smiling as the long, thin fingers graze through his hair, and also he knows that both he and Matt are wondering whether—whether at that moment—whether right then maybe Mello reminds him of Light.

Light had been just a little younger than Mello is now.

Was he as clever as Mello, Matt wonders, was he as dangerous, and was he as beautiful, and just what was it about him that piqued L’s interest this much?

And did he and L really—did they—what was it like when—

Matt’s gaze meets L’s and, still deep in thought, the older boy smiles quietly and motions for him to come closer.

“Like this,” he tells him, gently peeling Mello’s wet arms away from around his narrow waist, and Matt watches as, smiling behind his dark hair, L leans down and arranges Mello with his back to himself, “we were bound wrist-to-wrist, so—“

He holds Mello’s arm to demonstrate, and he knows this is something Mello would be particularly curious about, so, as he brushes yellow strands out of the way, he explains, “it was something I did to keep him under observation,” and Matt knows that now, more than anything, Mello would like to be bound to L this way, too.

But L raises his eyes toward Matt again. “you want to know what he liked,” he says quietly, and both of them nod, so L motions for Matt to come closer still, and, still holding Mello in place before him, L leans forth from behind Mello so that his lips almost brush against his temple and, eyes darting toward Matt, he mouths, “like this.”

Matt watches L’s soft hair cascade downward against Mello’s wet shoulder as he leans forth, long fingers wrapping around Mello’s arm as his lips brush against his neck, and Matt can see that L is biting him very slowly. This was an invitation, and, watching the corners of Mello’s mouth curve upward in satisfaction, Matt comes closer, and, reaching toward Mello’s neck from the other side, he brushes his teeth tentatively against the wet skin there.

Out on the edge of the tub, Mello’s toes fan out as his feet flex very slowly, and Matt can hear the half-chuckle escape from his throat as the muscles in his neck tighten.

This goes on for several minutes, and, yeah, Matt knows Mello likes this, and when at last they both withdraw, the blonde exhales at last, and eyes them with unquestionable arousal as if asking, “and then what?”

“Then, like this,” L continues, motioning with his finger for Matt to follow, and, leaning down even farther over Mello’s chest, L reaches out with his tongue against the sternum and down to the skin over the pectorals, so Matt follows him and does this, too, and when, leaning upside-down over him, L stops in order to bring his lips to Mello’s mouth, Matt watches this as well, and even before the older boy lets go he practically fights him to kiss Mello.

“Oh, fuck—“ Mello breathes hoarsely, red all over and alive with arousal and one hand reaching out deliberately to touch himself, and, gazing at Matt from Mello’s lips, L smiles quietly, “and that’s about when he did that, too.”

It must have been very nice to watch, Matt thinks, because not everything made L smile with this much amusement.

He watches L reach under the water, white fingers sliding against Mello’s wrist and entwining through his hand, and blue eyes gaze in strange desperation as Matt does the same, and then at last L leans far enough over the tub that the dark strands of his hair come submerged in the bath water, and, undone and utterly defeated, Mello releases his hand and stares in mute astonishment as, stretching his thin torso across the edge of the tub, L actually reaches under the water and takes his member in his mouth.

Lips dry and parted, Mello does nothing for several moments but stare blindly ahead, fingers curling tightly against the porcelain edge of the tub, and when at last his thoughts return, he all but tells himself aloud to please, for the love of God, hold back from coming right then and there in L’s mouth.

L is perfect! He’s sacred! He—he can’t—he didn’t—he can’t—!

He doesn’t take his eyes off the older boy when, several moments later, he withdraws at last, dark hair heavy and dripping with water. Then, of course, it’s Matt who does it, and eventually it dawns on Mello that, more likely than not, he’s going to come when one of them is doing it, and that, more than likely, that’s really the whole point. Almost just as fascinating, however, is the curious way that L stares at Matt while he’s doing it, finger at his lips against an amused and practically childlike smile. It’s really quite perverse in the most unsettling way.

When at last Matt rises out from under the water, red strands sticking wetly to his face and lips glistening white, L goes so far as to reach toward him with an outstretched finger and press down against his mouth, murmuring that it was very nice to watch and that Matt had done well, and Mello watches stunned as, gazing at him from the corner of his eye, L then brings his finger to his lips and licks at it briefly.

His dark eyes are still wide as he turns to Mello , and the blonde accepts him weakly, eyelashes fluttering shut as he feels L’s finger slide past his lips and into his mouth and, very softly, the older boy whispers that, well, Light tasted different.

To be continued…

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