From Matt With...

Miya's Note: Okay, this was posted on LJ quite a long time ago, but I've just finally gotten the courage to post it up here. This is the first true smut-fic I've ever posted on this site, and I will warn those of you who are used to my BAU sex scenes (where I use metaphors and never mention body parts, to keep things "tasteful"), this is NOTHING like them. This is blunt, true smut.

So if you don't like the yaois, kindly click the back button. If you'd rather flame me, feel free. I like it hot, babes. XD If you're SO offended by this that you want to lynch me and have me banned FOREVARS from the site, just tell me, jeez, and I'll take it down. I hope, however, that nobody is immature enough for that.

I wrote this as a breather while I was stuck on part of my much longer, much more detailed Mello-centric Matt/Mello fic, "Twisted Religion" (which isn't quite finished yet). I got the idea a while back, as a spur-of-the-moment thought. I don't write explicit sex often (this would be my second attempt) so I was a little worried about how it would come out. I must say I was exceedingly happy, for something out of my norm that I wrote in one sitting at four in the morning.

I have a bad habit of ranting, so I'll stop here.

Pairing: MattXMello
Rating: M for Mature…VERY Mature
Summary: Matt is bored, with no new games and no Mello to keep him occupied. Mello is annoyed at people in general, and at the striking lack of good chocolate at convenience stores. What can Matt do to make things better for both of them?
Warnings: Uhm, PORN, if you didn't catch that already. Also beware of emotion in the midst of sex. How very scandalous! XD Spoiler-free, as long as you have a basic idea of the characters. (Wouldn't that be an anti-warning?)


Matt was home (or whatever this ratty apartment could be called) alone, playing one of his games over again, sick of the same damned ones. He couldn't go out and buy a friggin' new game, no. That could blow their cover.

And yet, where was Mello? Out at some convenience store the blond's God-knows-where trying to satiate his chocolate addiction.

Granted, the man Matt lived with, slept with, and may have admitted to loving if he had been braver or more forward with his feelings was in a bad mood, too, because the brand that he preferred could only be found online, in catalogs, and in specialty stores, and the FBI, CIA, and probably Near's SPK had their eyes on all of those, watching for fake names or fake addresses, with all the records to catch if something was amiss, and Mello had to deal with brands as low as Hershey's--maybe Ghiradelli or Godiva if he were lucky--and it made him downright foul.

This was getting pretty ridiculous. Without even saving, Matt shut the console off and got up to see if he could find something to eat in their dismally stocked kitchen. Hopefully, he thought to himself with a grunt as he rummaged through the cabinets, Mello would pick him up a frozen pizza or something.

He opened the refrigerator and the freezer a third time, hoping that something would magically appear if he closed and reopened the doors enough, pulling out the ice cream that wouldn't do much for an appetite, but might be enough to keep him slightly occupied as he ate.

Chocolate. Of course.

Fucking chocolate.

Was there anything to put on the damned chocolate ice cream? Anything?

Okaaaaaaay, chocolate syrup. Well, fuck.

"Great", he muttered to himself, slapping his hand to his forehead. Leave it to Mello to pick dessert, and what did Matt get? Chocolate, covered in chocolate, possibly--he checked--definitely with chocolate chips.

What was it that Matt had hoped, about frozen pizza? Did they even make chocolate pizza? If so, he'd probably get it.

That's what Matt got for not getting up when Mello had asked him to go to the store. Was this some kind of punishment? Probably, the redhead reasoned. Probably.

He pulled his special, Mello-only and untraceable cell from his pocket and speed-dialed the only number in it. It rang a few times, and a disgruntled voice came over the line.

"Can you believe this store? Not even any regular Hershey's bars! I'm gonna have to deal with a Snickers or something, or maybe I'll just pick up a shitload of Tootsie Rolls. Ugh, the things I have to put myself through."

Not even a greeting.

"Mello, can you pick me up something to eat? Anything that's not chocolate? Preferably something full of sodium?"

A groan. "Yeah, whatever. What do you want? They have canned soup, Lunchables, and cold, but slightly moldy-looking sandwiches. That's about it."

"What kind of Lunchables?"

"The ham and Swiss ones."

"Could you grab me like three of those? That might tide me over until I can hit another store tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, whatever. Anything to drink?"

"We've got some stuff. Not much, but it'll do. Oh, and could you grab me some smokes, too? I'm out."

"Alright. Yeah. Sure. This one's a little ways away, so it'll be a while before I'm back. Keep yourself occupied or something. One of your games or whatever."

"Played 'em all. Like four times."

"Well, then, I dunno. Sit around and twiddle your thumbs or something."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Mello. See ya."

No goodbye either. Just a click.

Matt could feel the love.

With nothing to do, and since Mello wasn't in a talkative mood, Matt was left to use his imagination for entertainment. With nothing but himself to occupy him, the redhead shrugged, and unzipped his jeans, going for the first thing that came to his mind. He pulled his dick through the front of his boxers and leaned against the wall, stroking himself absentmindedly.

He didn't even get hard, he felt so unenthusiastic about the entire situation. He sighed, banging his head against the wall a couple of times in exasperation, his pants riding slowly down off of his hips, his cock still hanging limply through his drawers.

Damn, Mello had been in a right foul mood, hadn't he? Matt slapped himself internally at his change in thoughts, wondering as he always did why he always went back to the blond, even when he, himself, was suffering so much from boredom.

Matt thought to put his clothes back together, but decided against it, wondering why he was fully clothed at the apartment anyway, shaking out of his pants and kicking them to the side, knocking his boots and socks off, too, as he did. He pulled his boxers off, and his shirt over his head, not even bothering to disconnect his gloves from the sleeves and getting rid of the whole lot in one mass.

Well, at least he was bored, but comfortable. He thought of how strange he probably looked, naked except for a pair of green-tinted goggles, and pulled those from his eyes and set them on the counter, feeling a little foreign in the white light, even as he felt perfectly fine with his own body otherwise. He looked at the pile of clothing on the kitchen floor, and picked it up and threw it in the living room, knowing that Mello would ask questions about why, exactly, he had chosen the kitchen, of all places, to strip down, and didn't feel like answering them, although he came up with a rather amusing, quick story about how the stove had just turned him on.

"Oh, but Mello, the knobs. The swirly, beautiful, tantalizing lines of the coils!" he ranted almost maniacally, flopping down on the couch with a sigh and a slight laugh at his own dorkiness. What a look he'd get for that one.

With a sigh, he began to stroke himself again. It was actually slightly uncomfortable, his hands dry as they were except for a little sweat that had accumulated in his gloves. Since he and Mello had started fucking, he hadn't really been needing to jack off so much anymore, and without a hot mouth or asshole to assist him, he was finding the act rather surprisingly…boring.

Ugh, how far away was that damned store? Thinking of Mello, who would be in tight leather as always, his hair long and straight and femininely, sickeningly perfect, his body almost visible through the closeness of his clothes…Matt thought of the rosary, too, which Mello wore at all times except when he slept or showered, and which always brushed against the redhead's chest in a droning, calming, almost heartbeat-like rhythm when the blond was on top, and which glinted against Mello's sweaty skin when Matt topped him…

Well, he was hard now. At least he had that.

But his hands were dry and calloused, and he needed something to wet them until Mello walked through the door. He spit on them first, but that provided a very temporary relief. He thought about the shower, but didn't want to spare the effort.

Mello would be out in the cold night now, riding along on his motorcycle, all leather and a badass attitude, which would be amplified by the fact that he was probably in a bad enough mood to give off the aura of "I will kill you if you fuck with me right now" to anyone within a ten mile radius.

Matt had a pang of warm compassion for the blond. It was a strange feeling, not all attributed to the other man's innate and utter sexiness but partly to the knowledge that under an often violent attitude and a rockin' body, Mello had always been and was still his closest and most trusted friend, and Matt not only wanted to make himself feel less bored, but wanted Mello to be a little happier when he got home, too.

If Matt had better self esteem, he would have assumed that Mello would be happy enough to find him naked on the couch when he walked in (which was actually rather true), but the redhead suddenly had the urge to do something a little special. After all, Mello hadn't completely blown up at him for asking him to pick up food, despite the fact that he was doubtless irked at the fact that it had been Matt's turn to go the store. That was actually quite nice of Mello, he reasoned.

Hmm, what did Mello like? Well, that was easy. Sex and chocolate. And hating Near, but that wouldn't help.

Matt had the sex down. He was naked on the couch, and hard. Check.

Chocolate. Oh, accursed chocolate.

Then, however, an idea struck him. He needed something wet. He needed chocolate. They had chocolate syrup in the cabinet! Genius!

Matt swung his legs off of the couch. He sat up. He stood and walked into the kitchen, opening the cabinet with purpose and grabbing what he needed from it. He dripped a little on his finger and tasted. It wasn't bad. Chocolate wasn't Matt's personal favorite flavor (Mello liked it enough for the both of them, and possibly a couple of others as well), but this was pleasant enough. Probably better than Tootsie Rolls. He took it back into the living room, sitting down with it, and squeezed some into his hand, closing his fingers around his cock and slathering himself with the stuff. It was a little colder than he had expected, but it was pretty wet, and it felt pretty nice against the sensitive skin. He leaned back, groaning a little in pleasure, adding more of the chocolate as needed.

It was a lot more time than it felt before Mello threw the door open, the wind blowing in behind him, his hair rustling slightly but returning miraculously to its place as the door shut. He walked into the kitchen without even looking at the couch. Matt watched him go, entranced and still stroking, excitement welling up inside of him.

"I'm putting your food in the fridge," came Mello's voice "or do you want it now?"

"Fridge. Mello, I have something for you."

"Did you go out? You're supposed to stay inside while I'm…"

"I know. I didn't go out. Come in here."

"This had better be good. These fuckin' Tootsie Rolls are pissing me off."

There were footsteps on the tile of the kitchen, which grew muffled as they moved to carpet. Matt leaned over the back of the couch as far as he could. He watched Mello walk closer, a questioning look etched on the man's sharp, fine features. Blue eyes and full lips widened in sync as the blond grew close enough to see Matt sprawled over the couch, the bottle of chocolate syrup open next to him, his right hand stroking furtively at his own slathered cock.

Mello closed his mouth quickly. Matt could have almost sworn it looked like the blond was trying to stop himself drooling.

The redhead motioned with his left hand for Mello to come closer. "Want some?"

Mello answered without words, coming around the couch and kneeling without delay in front of it. Matt brushed blond hair out of the beautiful face in front of him with his clean hand. Mello grabbed the hair himself, holding it behind his neck and ducking down, surprising Matt with how eagerly he took him in, his tongue exploring, tasting, every little bit of his length.

Matt's head fell back. His clean hand clutched the edge of the couch. He gasped, he moaned. He stuck one finger of his right hand in his mouth, sucking the chocolate off of it, biting down on one knuckle. It was everything he could do to keep from bucking up into the back of Mello's throat.

The heat of Mello's mouth left him, and left him gasping as if for air. Matt heard a zipper and looked down to see Mello undoing his vest.

"Much better than Tootsie Rolls. Give me your hand. I want that."

Matt obeyed, and Mello cleaned his hand with his tongue as he undressed. It was a different feeling than being sucked off, surely: Less strong, but oddly not much less euphoric, as he was free from the overwhelming feeling on his dick to watch what Mello was doing instead of the back of his own eyelids, and the other man was meticulous, calculating in both actions he was performing, his tongue pointed and skilled along the curves of Matt's hand, his own hands causing the leather to cascade off of his body like water and reveal the pale skin underneath, which rippled with the movement of lean muscle and which stretched against the tantalizing curves of delicate but protrusive bones.

When Mello was naked before him--save for the rosary, of course--he stepped forward, leaning over his lover and straddling him, his cock hard and weeping as he did. Matt yearned for the blond to sit down, impaling himself, fucking himself and Matt. The room seemed to have grown colder now that there was no mouth around him, and he shivered slightly, from the lack of heat and from the hungry look that had locked eyes with his. Mello kissed him, and his lips parted almost immediately, allowing their tongues to curl together and for Matt to taste the slightly salt-tinged chocolate in Mello's mouth. Mello's cock brushed the redhead's stomach, his fingers laced in the soft hairs at the back of his neck. They shared a moan. Matt again resisted the urge to buck up, knowing that Mello was teasing him like he always did; knowing that he was waiting for the right moment, where Matt would least suspect and it would make the redhead scream his name the hardest.

Mello's kiss trailed around to his ear, and the blond whispered, commanding, between licks and light nips, "Finger fuck me. Now."

Matt's hands reached around, gripped the tight muscles of Mello's ass, parting it as one finger slid toward the opening that he so yearned to have around his cock, not his hand. He felt his body twitch in longing, shamelessly. Mello felt it, too.

"Not yet. Another finger."

The soft lips of the blond were at his collarbone now as Matt slid another finger in, obeying without hesitation. Mello was curved over him, his legs holding him up strongly, unwavering, showing a strength that was hard to imagine coming from his slight body, and he was showing no sign of moving from his position.

Matt was growing wet with the sheer, surprising amount of precum that was dripping down his cock in his excitement. One of Mello's hands found him and touched lightly, maddeningly lightly, nails and all against him, his fingertips not giving enough warmth or stimulation to draw him closer to climax, but just enough to make his mind reel with lust.

Mello bit down on the soft flesh between neck and shoulder just as he placed his hands, hard on Matt's hips, and the redhead could not buck up, and he shoved another finger, angry, into the blond's opening. Mello looked at him, devious and defiant, and Matt knew that the teasing was not over, though one hand with its thin digits and rounded, painted nails left his hip and circled around his own hand and pulled the fingers out of their place inside of Mello.

Matt wanted to scream at him, to punch him, to murder him with a glance when Mello backed up a little and sat down on thighs, not cock, but the blond leaned his head impishly to the side and narrowed his eyes, his hair falling in waves over the wide, devilish grin that had overtaken those full lips.

"You think I'm gonna give it to you easy, hm?"

"Are things ever easy with you?" Matt retorted exasperatedly.

"After you took the time and effort to make it so special? The chocolate sauce was very thoughtful of you, Matt. Unexpected."

"I'm glad you think so. Can I fuck you now?"

Mello's mouth descended on his, his hips sliding forward and his cock brushing against the redhead's. Matt did buck up this time, as their tongues curled together again and Mello raked his nails across the back of his shoulders. Mello slid back, forward, as if he were screwing Matt, but they only clashed together again, making enough friction to cause the redhead to gasp his lover's name.

"Do you want me?" Mello said as he ended the kiss, his voice even.

"Oh God yes, Mello."

"How badly?"

"I want you so bad, I wanna fuck you so hard, I wanna hear you scream for me."

"How badly, Matt?" He slid forward again.

"So badly I can taste your screams, Mello."

And all at once, Matt's mind exploded, because Mello had lifted off of him for a split-second and then dropped back down, encasing him completely in heat and sensation that covered not only his cock but his whole being, from his toes to the back of his head, which went numb with a dizzy euphoria, and Matt was glad the couch was soft, he pounded back into it so hard. His hands on Mello's back had clasped down and probably drawn blood, his legs had curled in on themselves, the blond's ass rubbing against them as he rose himself up and then penetrated himself again.

Matt, like always, was the one who screamed, though Mello's head had thrown back, too, and the most wonderful gasp had issued from somewhere deep in his throat.

There was a rush of pure adrenaline that surged through Matt's body with the pleasure, and he pushed himself up from the couch, Mello with him, and lurched forward, taking them both from where they sat to the floor, where he laid the blond out beautifully beneath him, pushing the man's long legs up as far as he could against the rosary-clad chest and thrusting into him.

"Matt," Mello panted. "Matt. Oh, Matt," like a mantra.

"Mello," he returned, shoving a discarded controller out of his arm's way as he leaned down over Mello's legs to his face and took the full lips once more.

Mello's tongue was pushing itself in and out of Matt's mouth in rhythm with Matt's thrusts, and it only enhanced the sensation farther, warming his cheeks with tingling, soaring bliss. The redhead's thrusts became deeper, faster, harder, and Mello clawed into his ass in a reminder of Matt's actions earlier.

"God, Mello…"


"Oh, God, Mello. Fuck, you're so tight, Mello."

"Oh, Matt…"

The thrusts were no longer something that Matt was doing of his own free will. He had set loose some pulsing rhythm, some pounding vibration within that had taken over his body. The words coming out of his mouth were not his, the hands clawing at skin and carpet some other man's. Mello's tongue was in his mouth again, and all that was his was the burning heat that had washed over him and the sound of Mello's moans.

A few more thrusts, and Matt couldn't keep his face near Mello's anymore, for fear of biting off his tongue. The blond was screaming now, actually screaming his name despite the fact that it might have very well blown their cover. Matt was screaming back, like some kind of strange fight had erupted between them.

"Mello! Oh, God, Mello, fuck! God, I love you!"

Matt suddenly had the feeling of crashing down from a failed skydive. His own words washed over him like freezing water.

Never had they said "I love you" during sex. Never had they dared.

He kept thrusting, the vibration still inside his body, possessive, but his eyes had grown wide with fear and dread at the words.

Mello had not reacted to it like Matt had expected. He had not thrashed at him, thrown him away with a screech and balled his hands into angry fists. If anything, it seemed as if he had tried to shove himself back further into the carpet at the words. He was still screaming, and Matt felt that he could, indeed, taste it, like sweat and chocolate and his own salty precome on their kiss.

"Yes, Matt! Yes! Say it again!"

More than ever, Matt realized that Mello was more beautiful, more erotic than any woman had ever been beneath him, and the heady warmth had returned, tenfold, and he repeated the forbidden words again and again like the unending chorus of a song, and soon Mello was saying them, too, with him, to him.

It wasn't the pulsing rhythm that made Matt come, but the words.

It was the words.

Miya's Note: MelloXMattXStove is my OT3. No joke.

Digital hugs, guys.