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.

They watch with silent tension as Light tests slowly the various joints and limbs now free to move, how he stretches and flexes his muscles and how the delicate articulations of his bones move with a low series of cracks;

But it’s hard to stay reluctant and tense, because every sway and turn and move is graceful and strong, and the childlike look of amusement in his eyes is a priceless mockery of naiveté;

He turns around to gaze at the dimly lit walls behind the bed, inspecting probably for equipment and devices and cameras;

And he knows, doesn’t he, how beautiful it is, the fluid curve of his back and the satin skin of his shoulders, and he knows what a brilliant touch they must think the chain marks on his back must be;

“Tell me, then,” comes the soft voice, all politeness and velvety charm, “What is it exactly that he told you I like?”

He’s completely naked, back turned to them and one leg sliding in an elegant display of patience over the side of the bed, long and slender as it brushes softly down, and Matt realizes then that he’s rather tall—probably taller than either of them.

Fuck me,

He’d never say it, no, but that’s the undeniable message in his eyes, too lewd for words but too real to ignore, and Mello can see in him the same narcissistic self-infatuation that he, himself, knows only all too well.

Come,

He doesn’t say that, either, but, softly, his thin arms rise to his sides, and Mello and Matt both know that he’s calling to them, and even as they stand hopelessly frozen in place, their eyes practically glaze over with desire.

This may quite simply be innocuous.

Or it might be a calculated trap.

Or—it might really be a gift.

What is it that Mello wants?

Mello is completely naked, too.

Very slowly, he comes closer to Light, arms sliding as of their own accord around the narrow abdomen, and his long hair cascades featherlike against Light’s shoulder as he leans in to kiss the boy’s neck.

Mello was only half conscious when they did this to him, but he remembers well enough how nice it felt.

Matt remembers, too. Mello was in the bath then, and he and L kissed Mello from either side of his neck.

Matt masturbated to the memory many times.

“L showed us—“

He begins, but he doesn’t feel very good about revealing such things to Light—not because of intimacy, but because neither of them really trusts him.

Neither of them is really very sure as to how much Light really knows.

And, either way, Matt’s words are interrupted when at last his lips make contact with the warm skin of Light’s neck, and he shivers at the smooth feel of the hair at the nape of his neck that slides soft against him.

Light tastes so nice—at least as nice as Mello—and, for a moment, Matt thinks that it’s such a shame to keep a stunning creature like him tied up alone like this.

I want him, Mello,

He thinks, and he can almost hear Mello think the same thing too, and before long they are both devouring him, kissing and licking the skin of his neck to the point of scratching and bruising, and, just barely able to maintain his composure, Light tilts his head back, brown locks hanging soft against his back.

Does he remember L?

Does he remember L?


Don’t, don’t think about that, Matt tells himself bitterly, because, despite his amusement and ridicule of life in general, Matt is a creature driven largely by admiration and fondness, and it’s almost like he’s afraid of falling for Light, himself, because he understands that, with Light, there’s obsession and wonderment and captivation and allure, but actual, real affection—

Don’t think about that.

They kiss him feverishly, practically fighting for his lips and competing enviously for his attention, and all throughout whispering and breathing and mouthing against his skin how gorgeous and stunning and beautiful he is, and how much they want him, and all the things they want to do to him, and Matt is secretly grateful for Mello’s rigid self-control, because he thinks there’s no way he’d be able to stop at the end of the hour.

When they lower him to the mattress, Matt catches a glimpse of Mello’s smile, grinning as he fights for composure and whispers to Matt,

“He’s touching me,”

and it comes with a mixture of amusement and surprise, and, sure enough, Matt can see that Light’s hand is really on him, and he isn’t sure whether to be aroused or jealous, or, for that matter, which of them to be jealous of

He doesn’t take his eyes off Light’s hand touching Mello even as he continues kissing and biting the skin on Light’s chest, and he can’t help wondering to what extent Light really has control over any of this, because, really, the way he gives in to Mello and the hard ministrations of his hands and his mouth, it’s almost undeniably colored with surrender.

And then Matt notices that Mello is looking at him, and that he’s been looking at him for some time, and Mello knows his silence and his insecurity all too well, so it’s with unexpected charm that Mello reaches suddenly for Matt’s face with one extended finger and leans to kiss him over the slender form of Light’s body.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s do it to him like you did it to me.”

Matt feels himself grin despite himself, because, for all his intricate, careful thoughts, he quite simply likes when Mello kisses him, and sometimes he thinks he could forgive every vicious remark and every blow and every tantrum when suddenly again Mello’s lips are on his.

And hasn’t it always been this way?

…Mello! Mello…!!

There are no words exchanged between them, but there is unspoken, tense arousal as they gaze at Light’s face gazing back with unreadable attention, and then, almost hoping to see him break down again with innocence, Mello turns his gaze back to Light’s abdomen and the slight angle of the perineum.

“You must taste very nice,” he murmurs, voice low and predatory, “if he liked you as much as he did.”

He bites softly on his lower lip as he kneels down, eyes piercing fire from behind his hair, and Matt is almost painfully hard behind the tight restraint of his trousers as he watches Mello move dangerously close to the hard member below. It really does look very nice, and he’s almost about to ask Mello to let him have it, too when suddenly his friend stops—

“Go on, Matty,” he whispers, “I know you wanna taste him.”

Matt doesn’t reply, but his expression is telling enough. Long fingers wrapped possessively around the member, Mello tongues his incisors as he motions for Matt to come closer. Matt does, and, eyes darting toward Mello and then back down at Light’s sex in his hand, he kneels over softly, and then, very tentatively, he brings the member to his mouth.

Mello watches with strange desperation as Matt lingers there a moment, and there’s the soft inhalation of his breath quiet through his nose as he has at Light very slowly, gently, and his warm fingers, closing long and slender in angular joints around the elegant curve of the iliac crest.

And it’s Matt, not Light, who moans inaudibly in hard restraint of pleasure when at last he withdraws, and Mello asks him if it was nice, and before Matt can reply that yes, it really was very nice, there comes Mello’s tongue flicking wet against his lips, and then Mello is kissing him and Matt can feel himself frustratingly wet behind his fly—

His hand comes warm on Mello’s hand on Light’s member, and he watches Mello break away and then finally have at Light, and his lips are moist and hot when now and again they brush against Matt’s fingers—

“He’s a little wet, isn’t he,”

Mello’s voice comes hoarse when at last he pulls away, and Matt replies with a timid smile that, yeah, that’s right, and he watches Mello’s eyes dart toward Light’s face and back, and he knows that despite whatever unreadable restraint they see there, they have his undeniable approval.

“I don’t think he’s ever been with two guys before,”

Mello snickers.

“I don’t think he’s ever been with one guy before,” Matt replies, “other than L.”

Silence.

L.

They've spoken and thought of him all throughout, but this, for one, was the first deliberate reference to him by name, and for one very brief moment, it seems to Mello that Light’s admirable composure and unreadable silence are just the slightest bit interrupted by a very minute gesture of emotion—

No.

Don’t think about that.


There is no affection here.

L knows.


To be continued...


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