InsaneJournal

Current mood:	artistic
Current music:	Led Zeppelin : What is and should never be
Entry tags:	death note, fanfic:death note, fanfiction, matt, mello, mello/matt, nc-17

Fanfic: Death Note, What is and should never be, NC-17, Mello/Matt
Fandom: Death Note (manga/anime)
Title: What is and should never be
Rating: NC-17. Please don't read if you're under age.
Pairing: Mello/Matt
Warnings: Slash, adult situations, angst. The first part of this is basically sex.
Spoilers: Hinted at Chapter 98 and onwards. Nothing major though
Notes: I procrastinate by writing fanfiction! I've been working on the request I had for closet!sex Mello/Matt (I'm almost done! Yay!) and it's been a bit of a job poking those two to get into that tight space. So this is what I do for relief - I write straight!matt. I was inspired by jengou's straight!matt fic 'All That Could Have Been'... and a Supernatural episode. Random.
Beta read by the awesome kefanii! Thank you so much *glomps* This is probably the first fanfiction of mine that has been properly beta read!
Feedback: Yes please! Makes my life sunny and bright to know what you think, good or bad :D
Disclaimer: Trust me, if I owned Death Note, there would be more Matt goodies. Don't own, don't sue.


There are only two things Mello wants from Matt tonight. For the one he craves most, the one he’s dreamt about for the longest, there are only two ways it could be done.

The first would be Matt on his hands and knees, with nothing but skin and sweat between them, only moans and pants to fill the air. Perhaps, if he was feeling generous, he’d allow Matt to have a piece of clothing or maybe the headboard of a bed to hold onto, but he’d prefer to leave the younger man simply on his knees whilst he pushed in from behind. He’d do it slow and hard, so he could feel Matt tremble beneath him, draw out his helpless gasps until they reached a seductive crescendo that would drag Mello away from his careful control, break his paced thrusts into something erratic, desperate and needy – maybe even painful. His fingers would probably leave bruises on Matt's thighs and hips, and the red and blue teeth marks he’d leave on his shoulders, neck and anywhere else his mouth cared to wander would probably take days to heal. He’d make sure he and Matt came at the same time, press as much of his body as possible against him so he could feel Matt's muscles spasm when he orgasmed beneath him. The sounds that would be torn from his mouth would be delicately etched into Mello’s mind so he could replay them when the hacker was too busy fiddling with the wires of his computer to satisfy the blonde’s needs.

He imagines he’d collapse on the younger man and feel the soft rise and fall of the fragile ribcage beneath him, feel the damaged lungs clot up with smoke and toxins. He’d run his hands over his back, over the smooth skin that he would practically melt into, like chocolate maybe, and he dreams that he’d pull the warmth of Matt’s body close to him, lulling the other man into sleep. When he was sure the red-haired punk was blissfully dead to the world, he’d quietly rip himself away from the pliable, soft comfort of his body only to ransack the younger man’s wardrobe and hide all his long sleeved t-shirts and tight jeans so he would have no choice but to wear the short sleeved shirts and the baggy combats so that the beautiful blossoms of bruises on his skin were on display for the whole world to see – so everyone would know Matt belonged to Mello.

The second method would have Matt on his back, legs spread wide so Mello could nestle deep within the heat of his silky flesh. He’d make sure Matt had nothing to grasp, nothing to grip, the only release of the frustration in what he could grab of the other’s body. Mello draws in a shaky breath because it’s almost as though he can feel Matt's fingernails digging into the soft tissue of his shoulders from the mere mental image of it. Matt would be gasping, drawing in deep breaths in an effort to fill his hungry lungs with the hot weight of Mello holding him down and restricting him. Blonde strands of Mello’s hair would fall over his face as the other man’s hungry lips and tongue licked, bit and devoured his mouth. He’d make sure Matt’s hands wouldn’t be able to reach down and jerk himself off into completion, even if he’d have to bind his wrists above his head – perhaps even with the elastic of those ridiculous goggles he always wears. Matt’s release would be something he found in Mello only.

He wants to fuck Matt – there’s little point in dancing around the term. He realised years ago what he wanted, but despite his dangerously sharp mind, he still hasn’t gotten it.

That isn’t to say that his best friend doesn’t know about these dark desires that Mello stores away in his mind. Christ, Matt’s tried, like he always has, to give Mello what he craves.

The kiss had been filled with nothing but the pungent taste of friendship and oozing sickly of loyalty. Whereas Mello felt he pressed his lips into something heavenly like sex and sin incarnate, he knew Matt felt nothing. Whereas the touch caused Mello to sink into him with the overwhelming sensations of finally being able to press the younger man’s lips with his own, Matt simply felt skin cells touching skin cells. Mello’s tongue had searched, had committed the lusty taste of Matt to memory and roamed the area of Matt he had never dared to breach in a thirsty haze. He had felt like the desire had drugged him because he knew from the lack of reciprocation from the other man, the way his body and movements were stiff and uneasy that Matt did not want this.

Overwhelmed, it had been maddeningly tempting to just take what Matt gave him, the fuck that meant nothing, that only one of them would be truly enjoying – but he couldn’t. When they broke apart for air, he cast aside the thoughts that begged him to take advantage of what was being offered to him and searched Matt’s eyes to find only the kind of love friendship would offer, tinged with an undercurrent of shame. He didn’t take it any further. They never talked about it, continued on as though it never happened.

Unfortunately, it has never left Mello’s thoughts. To think that he could easily drug Matt up with booze and weed or practically rape him to get what he urgently wants to know, to taste, to touch, to feel isn’t easy to forget.

He’s staring at Matt through the plastic of his helmet on his motorbike, watching the younger man check that he has everything they need in the car, loading the smoke bomb casually, as though their lives don’t depend on it. He’s rather disgusted that he can be having thoughts like this when they could be dying within the next half hour, but he decides as he’s probably going to die, he can stop scolding himself.

There are only two things Mello wants from Matt tonight: his body and his soul. He’s only going to get one, but he knows as their engines roar to life and they begin to close the distance between themselves and fate, he’s got the part of Matt that counts.