InsaneJournal

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Current music:	My Chemical Romance : Ghost Of You

Fanfic: Death Note, Choke Chain, NC-17, Mello/Matt
Fandom: Death Note (manga/anime)
Title: Choke Chain
Rating: NC-17. Please don't read if you're under age.
Pairing: Mello/Matt
Warnings: Slash, adult situations, inappropiate use of a dog leash, humilation (sort of)
Spoilers: As long as you know who Matt is, you're good to go.
Notes: I wrote this for carola_chan's birthday! I hope you like it! It was meant to be PWP, but some plot jumped in and now I'm not sure what it is.
Beta reader: Thank you to the awesome kefanii. This fic would be completely unreadable through all my grammar and spelling mistakes without her. Thank you for putting up with me *lol*!
Feedback: Yes please! Makes my life sunny and bright to know what you think, good or bad :D
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. I merely borrow them for fun and return them unharmed. Appart from the bite marks. Sorry Viz, I just couldn't control them.
Summary: Matt wakes up from a hangover to find a dog's choke chain around his neck. Matt's playing puppy today whether he likes it or not.


The first thing that Matt senses when he wakes up is a heavy weight on his stomach. This must mean, his sleep clogged mind slowly summaries, that someone must be invading his soft cocoon of duvet covers and blankets that he entangles himself in every night. He would kick out violently if he weren't so hung over, his muscles heavy, his brain screeching, pounding and dizzy. The very thought of actually doing anything makes his entire body scream out in protest. So he lies there, trusting that Mello would have murdered anyone who even tried to sneak into their hide-away. He wasn't awoken by any gunshots, hard surfaces cracking skulls, or shrieks of agony as someone was stabbed, so it must be Mello on top of him.

Knowing that it’s just the blonde, he’s ready to roll over and go back to sleep. He’s not sure what the fuck Mello is doing straddling him this early in the morning, but he’s not trying to strangle him, his body heat cloaking him is quite comfy, and he’s too goddamn tired to care about anything else. That’s when he feels something so painfully cold against his neck it sends splinters through his sleepy daze. He whimpers, still half-asleep; it’s so icy and unforgiving it’s like it’s trying to tear out the nerves in his neck. He hears a gruff laugh from above him and decides it’s time to face the inevitable and open his eyes.

The room’s dim, but he can make out those beautifully psychotic eyes glittering with amusement in the gloom, the blonde hair falling over Mello's face like a warped halo in the morning sunshine, and the unhinged grin that would intimidate the most hardened of criminals twisting his marred features. Of course, the other man is dressed and ready like he’s been up for hours. He’s clutching something in his gloved hands and Matt realises with a start that it’s chains, chains around his neck and chains in Mello’s hand.

“Morning, Princess,” Mello says, ironically mimicking the very phrase Matt used to so innocently piss him off with in the mornings.

“Mello, is this a leash?” Matt asks, his body too hung over from consumption of a little too much of everything last night and his mind too insulted at this rude awakening to be bothered to try and hide the shock in his voice.

“No, it’s a choke chain.”

He emphasises the sentence by tugging on the chains in his hand and Matt immediately feels the heavy string of metal tighten just slightly around his neck. Not enough to hurt, but enough to get the point across.

“Like the kind of choke chains they use on dogs?” Matt manages to say through the alarm coursing through his body. Oh God, this has to be a nightmare.

Mello doesn’t reply. He simply crawls off of Matt before demanding, “C’mon, puppy, time to get up.”

Matt stumbles out of bed, one of the blankets still entangled around his leg in his haste to follow. His head is swimming like there’s an entire lake in there and he almost feels like he’s in the movie Alien, only his evil baby alien got side-tracked and decided it would burst out of his skull rather than his stomach. He hopes that Mello will either take pity on him or simply get bored.

--

The blonde, however, has no intention of stopping this game anytime soon. He lets his eyes sweep over the sight before him: Matt in nothing but his boxers as he tries to stand on pale, unstable legs, the curtain of dyed crimson hair falling over the acidity of Matt's hazel eyes glaring at him under heavy lashes.

“First,” Mello says commandingly, “You’d better take a shower.”

--

Matt complies, sleepily shuffling behind Mello as he leads the way to the bathroom. By the time he’s sitting on the cold surface of the floor, he’s woken up enough to know that he’s pretty goddamn screwed. It’s a pity he can’t remember what he did last night so he can work out whether the other man is doing this to him because he's pissed off as hell (in which case he isn’t just screwed, he is well and truly fucked) or whether this is his idea of a day off.

The shower’s spray has barely been thundering through his ears for half a minute when Mello turns to him.

“Shower’s ready.”

Matt stands up, his skinny limbs a bit steadier now as he slips off his boxers; he’s not embarrassed at all because Mello’s probably seen more of his body than he has. He stands at the edge of the shower curtain, hesitantly preparing to step in the shower - he’s pretty sure it’s not ready - when Mello’s hand collides with his shoulder blade and pushes him roughly into the running water.

Matt feels like he’s been hit with a truck. The torrent of water is an assault on his senses; it’s so fucking freezing, it almost as if it’s scalding him, like knives are raining down on his raw flesh, not something as harmless as water. He makes a move to hop out of the shower, but Mello calmly pushes him back in and gives the leash a hard tug. For a moment, it seems all the air has been kicked out of his lungs and the chain tightening around his neck as he tries to replace the oxygen sends a surge of panic through him. It pinches as it tightens and it’s still just as uncomfortable when it slackens. The frosty weight of the leash around his neck is like the ghost of it suddenly trying to strangle him, or a shadow, just waiting to jump out at him. He wraps his arms around himself against the cold spray of the shower and he decides that he really does not like this at all.

“I can’t have a dirty puppy,” Mello sneers as he hands him the soap, “I might have to take you back to where I got you from.”

“Mello, it’s really cold!” Matt says, huddling his shoulders and shivering as he refuses to take the soap.

“The quicker you get clean,” Mello says as he rips Matt’s hands away from himself and presses the bar of soap into his hand, “the quicker you can get out.”

Grumbling, the hacker does as he’s told. He curses when his hand goes numb and it's harder to grip the soap. Everything is so slippery and cold, like he’s washing in the middle of an ice rink. Seven minutes later he practically falls out of the shower, eager to get out and be warm and dry. He towels himself off, slips into a new pair of boxers and tight jeans complete with a studded belt without Mello saying a word. It’s when he reaches for his stripped shirt that he realises there’s going to be a problem. He can’t actually get the shirt on without getting it knotted in the leash.

“Erm, Mello?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind taking the leash off for a moment? It’s just so I can put on my shirt.”

Mello’s eyes widen, his teeth showing as his lips curl into a snarl, “You’re still in training, I can’t take the leash off or you might run away.”

“No, I promise I won’t run away,” Matt answers while planning to kick Mello in the balls and make a run for it to the nearest bar as soon as he’s free.

The other man grins slyly as though he can read his mind, “Nope, sorry. Can’t let you free just yet.”

“So, what? I’m supposed to go topless for the entire day?”

Matt groans when Mello nods slowly.

--

Mello ignores Matt's defiant stare as he searches in his pockets. Nothing in either of them, though they’re the typical tight pair of leather trousers he usually wears, so he’s not surprised they’re empty. The pockets are too damn tight to fit much at all. He drags Matt along to the fridge to search in there. One can of beer, a tomato, and a tub of vanilla ice cream. No chocolate.

“Matt, we’re going to have to take a trip to the shops,” he announces as he closes the fridge door.

“No, you mean you’re going to have to take a trip to the shops,” Matt snaps back.

Mello answers by tugging on the chain fiercely. If he could understand the hacker’s choked words he’d probably be amazed at the foul vocabulary he’s managed to pick up in their years apart. Instead, he’s busy admiring the way he can visibly see Matt fighting against his body’s instinct to pull away because they both know that’s only going to make the choke chain around his frail neck tighter.

“C’mon then, puppy, time to go for a walk down to the shops.”

He pulls on his coat to allow Matt a few seconds to consider what to do. The younger man wasn’t in third place in a house full of geniuses for nothing. They both know there are only two options. Matt can either follow Mello, topless and a complete subordinate in public, or he can stand here and resist until he strangles himself.

--

Right now, Matt is seriously considering the second option. His mind busily flits over the damage that would be inflicted if he were to oppose and let Mello choke him: injured ocular vessels, tracheal and oesophageal damage, a severely sprained neck and the possibly of fainting and Mello doing something even worse to his unconscious body.

Before he knows it, his body seems to have snubbed the second option and when he feels the chain tug on his neck, he follows Mello out of the door without thinking. The crisp breeze hits him and he tries to forcefully calm himself down. It’s not like anyone he knows is going to be awake during the daytime, they’re probably all wasted and choking on their own vomit in a motel somewhere. Who does he know that goes to the shops anyway? There’ll be nothing but scandalized little old ladies he doesn’t care about.

Oh God, they’re actually walking to the shops; Mello’s really going to haul him over the cracked pavements all the way to the shop so that his humiliation is on display for everyone who drives past. The bastard even goes the long way around too, winks at him when one of the cars honks at them. Matt replies by giving Mello a one-fingered salute, which earns him another rough tug on the choke chain. It hurts a bit more this time, which probably means there’s a bruise forming.

When they finally get to the corner shop, Matt doesn’t know whether he should be pleased that his humiliating walk is over or dread entering the place. To his surprise, Mello doesn’t try and drag him into the shop but leads him to the side instead. It takes him a moment to realise that Mello’s tying his leash to the bar of the bicycle rack because the choke chain’s suddenly gone tighter. He has to sit down just so he can breathe because of the amount of chain length Mello’s knot eats up.

“W-why are you tying me up here?” he asks, doing his best to glare up from his undignified seated position into the sunlight and Mello’s face.

“Can’t take dogs into the store,” Mello replies as he bends down a little to look Matt in the eyes, “Now be a good boy and stay where you are. If you undo your leash, I’ll cut off your pride and glory and I’m not talking about your Wii’s internet connection.”

Mello has the nerve to pat him on the head before he leaves. Matt has to remind himself how much his windpipe hurts to prevent himself from biting Mello's hand. He compensates by plotting his revenge as he watches the other man walk away.

Another customer leaves the shop as Mello enters. It’s a teenage boy, probably about fifteen years old judging by the amount of pimples he has, with a sandwich in one hand, white headphones shoved into his ears (music so loud Matt knows the song he’s listening to from his seat), and a phone clenched in his other hand. He catches Matt out of the corner of his eye and does a double take, pausing to just stand there and stare. Matt makes sure he wears the best passive face he possesses, because, really, he’s not bothered that he’s sitting outside, topless, with a leash around his neck, tied to a bike rack with the hang-over from hell tearing his brain inside out and some greasy haired teen staring at him as though he’d be less surprised to see Jesus waiting outside the store. The teenager flips open his phone, points it at Matt and takes a picture before walking away. Not bothered, not bothered at all.

Five minutes later a little girl and her mother walk out of the shop doors. The girl, complete with sappy blonde pigtails and pink dress in all her five-year-old glory, points and giggles at him whilst her mother looks insulted and hurries them both along. Soon after, an old lady shuffles out of the store and smiles when she sees him. Matt’s already promising himself that if a sixty-year-old lady starts laughing at him he’s going to crush his own windpipe and end it all now, when she asks him if he needs any help.

“Actually, could, you, erm,” he motions towards the catch of the leash to where the choke chain does up, “undo this?”

Mello never specified what he’d do if someone else undid the chain, but unfortunately he doesn’t get to hear the old lady’s reply because Mello's stern voice cuts through the air like a roll of thunder.

“Matt! Bad dog!”

The old lady is smart enough to take one look at Mello’s pissed off face and walk away pretending she hasn’t seen anything.

Matt tries not to cower because the blonde looks seriously angry as he unties the leash from the bike stands. He squeezes Matt’s bony wrist while he roughly pulls him off the ground. His eyes scan Matt’s chest before he grabs him by the shoulders and forcefully turns him around, his arm quickly snaking around Matt’s waist to firmly holding him in place while his other hand grabs Matt’s jaw.

Matt can feel the material of Mello’s coat brushing against his back as he speaks, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Checking no one damaged my dog,” the other replies, “You’re a cute puppy, Matt.”

From the position Mello’s strong grip is keeping his head in, he can see his pitiful reflection in the glass of the shop window. Mello's head is resting in the crook where Matt's neck meets shoulder, a dark, mischievous look in his intense eyes. Matt thinks he’d look cuter with his orange goggles, comfy striped shirt, and no leash around his neck, but then again, Mello's perception can be bordering on crazy sometimes.

“I don’t know… maybe you’d look better? Care to swap?” Matt asks hopefully.

Mello just laughs into his ear, his warm breath fluttering against his ear lobe as the arm around his waist slackens. Matt’s speedily praying that maybe he is going to swap, when the arm travels to his chest, stretched palm and fingers sliding down above his navel and causing his breath to catch when Mello's fingertips brush dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans. He struggles against Mello, both hands grabbing Mello's straying arm in an effort to stop it from going any lower.

His resistance is met with another hard pull on the chain, prolonged for more time than the others before it. Matt fights to breathe against the unforgiving constriction around his neck, his hands leaving Mello’s wrist to pull on the chains. Mello calmly watches Matt's failing efforts against the choke chain before he pushes his hand gently into the flesh below Matt's navel, forcing Matt’s thighs to move backwards and brush against the other's erection.

Matt stops struggling as Mello stops pulling on the choke chain. He pants as he keeps his hips where they are, now a little scared. He must have done something to piss Mello off big time, but he’s having trouble remembering anything from the previous night. Suddenly, the arms wrapping around him abruptly disappear as Mello turns to walk back to their apartment. He rushes to keep up, almost tripping in his haste, the threat of the choke chain keeping him close to the other man.

All the way home, he’s too busy concentrating on trying to remember the events that took place the night before to notice their surroundings until Mello slams him against the door. He’s too dazed to process what's happening beyond home, door, pain, Mello; Mello takes advantage of his shock, his palms pressing against the peeling painted surface of the door, pinning Matt in place as he forces their lips to meet. It’s not long before Matt’s kissing back, rough teeth nipping the other’s lip, inquisitive tongue playing with Mello’s responses. There’s a scraping noise as Mello fumbles with the keys, blindly trying to push the right key into the keyhole without looking. After a few minutes there’s a successful ‘click’ as it slides in.

As soon as they’re in the privacy of their apartment, they forego the bed and fall on the worn sofa in their living room instead, where there’s a rapid, significant decrease in the amount of clothes they’re wearing. A small-strangled whine leaves Matt’s lips as Mello pulls on the choke chain when he tries to undo the buttons on Mello's leather trousers. Mello obviously wants to show Matt who's in control, but he relents and lets Matt shimmy the tight material down his hips. He makes sure Matt pays for it though, as his mouth travels to the hollow of his throat, biting and tonguing Matt's skin until he’s sure a bruise will form.

Matt’s too impatient to care about the pain now, face flushed with arousal; his hands are desperate and needy, apparently overstepping Mello's limits as it’s not long before he growls and pins Matt's wrists to his sides, shifting so that his knees trap Matt, while he's still free to do as he pleases. Matt could probably get away if he tried, but maybe it’s the risk of the choke chain keeping him still, or the fact that might be enjoying this more than he should.

He grunts when Mello shifts again to slide a knee in between his legs, the both of them free of their clothes. He hisses when he feels a hand fist his hair as Mello twists his head so that he can speak into Matt's ear.

“Now, if you’re good and keep your hands where you are, I won’t have to tie you up.” His voice is heavy and sounds almost dangerous, sending a hot thrill of something like lust and anticipation through Matt.

--

Mello leaves and returns with the lube, taking his sweet time as he makes his way back towards Matt, who doesn’t move an inch as he moves closer. It’s maddening to be this in control of someone and even when he’s back, nestled between Matt’s legs, his skinny arms are still obediently at his sides. Mello trails Matt’s chest with kisses, tasting sweat, salt and the bitter soap from this morning. Matt's chest is heaving with his every pant, his nostrils flaring as he bucks his hips. Mello's mouth is hungry and messy as he kisses Matt, his hand on his ass, fingers working at Matt's entrance. He almost chokes on a lungful of air at how tight Matt is and the way he moves back on his fingers. Fuck, he can’t put this off any longer.

Finally he moves into position and slides into Matt with one smooth motion, leaving himself almost breathless at the feeling. He groans as he moves, his mind blissfully empty as he watches Matt writhe beneath him. His fingers wrap around Matt’s erect cock, only barely remembering to jerk him off as his movements become fast, hard and reckless. He knows he’s close to the edge now, a curse spilling out of his lips as his hand jerking Matt off with short strokes becomes distracted, and the frustrated hacker takes over.

He’s not sure who comes first, his mind hazy, edges of the details of the moment blurred. He lays on Matt, feeling the gamer wrapping his arms around him, his mind momentarily, wonderfully blank as he lies lost in the warmth.

--

Mello may be enjoying the afterglow, but Matt’s already trying to figure out what he could have done wrong again. It's not long before he feels the sharp pain of the choke chain again, the jolt of shock wrenching him from any lingering peace.

“I thought I told you to keep your hands at your sides,” Mello snaps angrily.

“Should have tied me up then,” he retorts, instantly realising he’s probably going to regret that later. Best not to think about that. “So, can you take the leash off now?”

“First you better tell me who’s the bitch here.”

“What?” he asks, and then realisation hits him. That’s what’s been pissing Mello off. When he gets wasted he has a bad habit of acting like a suicidal stunt man with a signed death wish to be murdered, anyone in a mile radius getting insults spat at them and the more they snap, the better. Unfortunately, Mello’s recently been the closest person near him as he gets high and the blonde's never been one for patience.

He sighs, fingers toying with Mello’s hair before reluctantly admitting, “I am.”

“Damn straight you are.”