Predictable

BY : Steph Ow.
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 2045
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.

“Well,” says Mello, something devilish filling his voice. Near blushes a little more and does up the last of his buttons. Matt shoots him an irritated look and pulls his goggles back on. Their efforts have not made them look any the less dishevelled, “I guess you kind of owe me now, don’t you?”

“Howso?” Matt asks, suspiciously, combing a hand through Near’s hair to straighten it. Mello feels an unexpected surge of jealousy at the tenderness of the gesture, and the way Near leans into it.

“For not ratting you out,” he replies, gleefully. “I’m betting Captain Ice here doesn’t want this bit of gossip spread all over the school.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Matt rolls his eyes at him, “like it makes a difference.” Of course Matt wouldn’t care if anyone called him gay here, does Matt ever care what anyone says about him?

“I.” Near’s blush deepens a little. He looks up at Matt, sideways and pleading, and the look Matt shoots him is absolutely incredulous and a little bit hurt. It matters to him that it stays a secret?

“I’ll think of something later.” Mello backs out of the room, because as much as he fucking wants to kill Matt right now, or maybe Near, or maybe both of them, he doesn’t want to feel like he was the one who put that look on his best friend’s face.

“I can’t believe you’re serious,” Matt says, with a hint of iron in his voice. Near is staring out the window, and Mello thinks that this probably wouldn’t work at all if Matt weren’t already irritated at Near. If Matt understood his need for secrecy, then they might not go through with this at all.

Hell, Mello can’t even believe they’re going through with it to begin with.

“Fuck him,” he replies, locking the door and leaning against it. “I want to watch. You’ve only got to do it once.”

“You’re sick,” Matt snaps at him, and Mello feels a flush of anger rise.

“Need I remind you you’re the one fucking the freak?”

The freak in question is slowly unbuttoning his pyjama top, in a way that manages to be rabbit-ish rather than sexual. His hands are moving deliberately and slowly. The fabric slips off his shoulder, and the moon casts a surprisingly deep shadow along his clavicle. His skin looks blue and iridescent in the moonlight, and Mello draws his breath in through his nose and reaches into his pocket for a chocolate bar.

“Mello,” Matt says, in the tone that always means ‘last ditch effort,’ and Mello knows that if he doesn’t back down now, he has him. So instead of answering, he watches Near. The shirt slips off completely, and Near draws it into his lap to fold it.
Matt only notices when Near leans to set it on the bedside table. Then he sighs, and turns to cup his jaw. Mello is struck by how dark Matt’s hands look against Near’s skin, and the smudges of Near’s eyelashes on his cheeks as his eyes drift shut.
He fucking wants to kill both of them.

“This isn’t a Disney movie, princess. Drop the romance and get on with it.”

“Ignore him,” Matt urges Near, and bends down to lick along Near’s collarbone. Mello shuts up and watches, because that is exactly what he wanted to do, and the faint exhale of breath on Near’s part is something he can almost pretend is his doing. Matt’s big hands urge Near backwards on the bed, and he reclines, eyes still closed, scooting his legs on.

Matt tugs gently at the waist of Near’s pants, and Mello starts unwrapping his chocolate bar, pretending he isn’t watching Near’s dainty fingers pulling at Matt’s shirt and goggles. That he isn’t ogling the long, graceful line of Matt’s spine as the shirt is pulled off.

Matt doesn’t fold his things, just tosses the garment and glasses off the edge of the bed.

“Very pretty,” Mello says, snidely, and Matt’s shoulders tense up, but he bends down and kisses Near’s cheek, anyways. His jaw, his throat, light pecks that are probably more soothing than sexual. This doesn’t suit Mello’s purpose at all. He wants Near to be upset.

“I hope you brought lube, Matt,” and now Near is going all tense, “unless, you know,” but Matt cuts him off with a snarl, and kisses Near on the mouth.

Mello’s mouth goes dry and he shuts up. Near is making enough noise for both of them, whimpering suddenly and wrapping his arms around Matt’s back. His eyes keep tight closed and Mello sees the moment where he loses himself, where the icy perfect demeanour crumbles.

Thin arms wrap tight around Matt, and Matt smoothes a big hand down Near’s side, coaxing a little moan out of him. Mello almost loses his breath as Near’s pyjama pants are tugged down.

He isn’t completely aroused, but from the looks of things, he’s getting there. Matt is jerking his own pants down, one handed, and then digging in his jean pocket for the little tube he did indeed have the foresight to bring with him.

Unable to help himself, almost, Mello draws closer. He can’t see Near’s face properly for Matt’s shoulder, and he wants to be able to watch both of them.

“Sit up, Matt,” he instructs, and Matt looks up to glower at him, but obeys, climbing to his knees. Mello nods his approval, and before Near can open his eyes Matt slips a finger into him. His mouth opens in a small, soundless wail and Mello takes a bite of chocolate, so as not to have to give directions. He doesn’t think he’d be able to keep the waver out of his voice.

“Near, sugar,” Matt whispers, slipping the finger back out and then sliding two back into him. Near tosses his head to the side, eyes clenched tight shut. “You’re beautiful.”

“Fuck the little slut already,” Mello grinds out, furious at Matt for making this about something it isn’t. Near blushes so hotly he can see it, even in this light, and Matt gives him another dirty look before sliding his fingers out again and starting to position himself.

“Not like that.” Mello knows he must be blushing too. “Sit up against the wall, and pull him into your lap.”

“No fucking way, Mello,” Matt snarls at him and Mello thinks things might come to blows for a second, but suddenly there’s a thin white hand, pressed over Matt’s mouth. Maybe Near isn’t as out of it as he thought.

“It doesn’t really bother me,” says Near, placidly, as he sits upright. He has terrible posture, Mello feels it should be noted. He’d like to say something cutting, but Matt’s bright eyes are glaring at him through the shadows and Near’s white body is climbing over him.

Head full of disturbing images about moths and candlesticks, Mello moves closer. Near straddles Matt clumsily, and Matt’s head connects with the wall with a hollow sounding thunk as Near squirms into position.

Mello forgets to breathe as Matt pushes inside Near, and he’s kneeling on the side of the bed before he knows what he’s doing.

“Stay still,” he mutters, and Matt hisses at him and Near trembles like a leaf. Mello breaks off a piece of chocolate and balances it delicately on the sharp line of Near’s shoulder. Matt stares at it, glassy eyed, and Mello wonders what Near’s expression must be.

He imagines cool boredom, and the thought of it is enough to make him lower his head to Near’s shoulder and trace the salty skin with his tongue, lapping slowly up to where his square of chocolate is resting. He catches it into his mouth and swallows it easily, before continuing to mouth along, leaving a chocolatey smear on the white skin.

When he reaches the place where neck meets shoulder, he stops to take a breath, and then nibbles the skin a little before sucking as hard as he can. Near lets out a sharp little cry and Matt’s hips surge slowly. Mello braces himself, one hand on the wall and one on Near’s shoulder, and keeps going.

Claiming him, even as Matt takes him. It’d be poetic, or maybe sad, if Mello could get past how fucking hot it was. Eventually he pulls back, and Matt starts thrusting in earnest, rocking Near’s body with the force of it, hands on his hips to guide him up and down in an urgent rhythm.

Mello stays kneeling on the bed behind him, gloved hands resting on Matt’s. He keeps them going when Near falters, tossing his head back with a quiet wail and coming onto Matt’s stomach in sticky spurts. Matt follows not long thereafter.

“Get out,” Matt snaps at Mello, the moment he gets his breath back. Mello thinks about arguing, but doesn’t. He’s had his pound of flesh. He only stays to watch the two of them sag, spent, down into the sheets.

He closes the door softly behind him. Matt closes his eyes, and Near opens his.

He can’t help but feel a little smug. Mello is really very, very predictable sometimes.


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