AN: So once upon a time I was sitting in my Church History class(I go to a catholic highschool) and this loverly little image of Mello in fuzzy pink pajama pants fluttered into my brain. (my mind wanders ne?) And that is how this story was born! .That explaination explained nothing! hoorah!
Matt's POV, for chapter one at least. May switch, who knows? Not I sir, not I...

Warnings: uhm, pfft, SMUT! SMUTTYSMUTTY GOODNESS!...and some fluff(squee!) Lots and lots of underage boy lovin! You no like, you jump off cliff, yesh? They're 14 here and where i dwell (yes, i said dwell o.O) that is underage. So there!

Disclaimer: the lack of naked Mello proves my total un-own of Death Note.

And one last thing, I deticate this to SARA-CHAN! Yesh dear, since you are grounded from all technology I decided to give you some fluffysmut of our fav pairing to come back to! i lurrv yous!
NOW ON WITH THE STORY BIZNITCH!


I'm awake. I just sort of slipped back into consciousness all of a sudden. But its not like I really care. Nah, I wasn't dreaming anyway. I don't like to dream, it's kind of annoying. My dreams never make any sense. Dreamless sleep is better.

I shiver. It's freezing in here. I can't pull my bed covers up for some reason. I'm too lazy to open my eyes and figure out why. Huh, that's odd; I can't really move. There's something fairly heavy weighing on my hips.

I hear crunching, and slurping noises. I'm smiling now. I know what's on top of me, and I know why. My name is Mail Jeevas, but call me Matt, and today is my fourteenth birthday.

Perhaps I should explain a few things. I am an orphan. No, I do not know or remember anything about my parents. Obviously they didn't want me, and I'm ok with that. It's hard for me to hold grudges, especially against people I've never met. Anyway, I am currently staying at an orphanage called The Wammy's House. Never heard of it? Good. As far as I know this place is supposed to be somewhat of a secret. Its all got to do with L.Yea, you've heard of him I bet. Well, all us parentless little gits at this orphanage are being trained as his successors. Oh, and I should probably also mention, we're geniuses. Whoopty-friggin-doo. I don't much care for school, yet for some unknown reason, I'm number three in this place. Third smartest, that is. Don't ask me how because I really don't have a clue. It doesn't matter anyway, because the real competition is between numbers one and two.

Now, number one, smart as he may be, is an emotionless little albino freak. It isn't so much that I hate him, but he just has one of those faces that screams 'please beat the living shit out of me'. Ya know? Maybe not...

Number two, on the other hand, could quite possibly be the spawn of Satan himself. What's the phrase, a wolf in sheep's clothing? Yea, that's it. It describes this kid perfectly.
His name is Mihael Keehl, but call him Mello.

Did I mention that I'm bi? Well, I am. Girls are hot, but Mello is hotter. He turned me half gay, I think. Hell, I don't even know anymore. No one is appealing compared to him. So, I'm definitely not straight, but I'm not gay either. I'm not really even sure if I'm bi though, because Mello is the only guy I've ever been attracted to like that. There we go; I'm Mellosexual.
That makes no sense.

So back to the present, and oh so awesome, situation at hand. I know what's on top of me, and I know why. Today, February 1st, is my fourteenth birthday. And the thing on top of me is none other than Mello himself.

Why is this so awesome you ask? Well, Mello is basically sex on legs; shoulder length blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, toned chest and abs, and this devilish little smirk that says 'look all you want, you're never gana get a taste'. And oh good lord, do I ever want a taste.

Remember when I said I didn't like to dream? Well, scratch that. Dreams are fucking amazing, as long as they're about Mello.
I sound like a pervert. But its a little hard not to, especially when you can feel that perfect little ass sitting right on your... Speaking of hard...

I finally open my eyes. Goddamn, this is gana be a good day. How do I know? Well, there's a half naked blonde straddling me, licking at a sucker while giving me that smirk I mentioned earlier. Did I say good? I meant great, amazing, fantastic day.

Heh, don't I sound cool.

"Happy birthday day to you," Mello sings quietly to me, running a hand through my bed-hair. "Happy birthday to you." God, he's so fucking gorgeous; I must have some serious brownie points with some kind of god, or whatever, to deserve this angel on my lap. "Happy birthday, dear Mail," he uses my real name, knowing I love to hear him say it. Only Mello can call me by my real name, only Mello. "Happy birthday to you."

He finishes and kisses me softly. I melt.

Literally, every part of my body is immobile with the exception of my lips. I'm kissing him back now, and I can't help but think that I'm unworthy. He smiles into the kiss and bites my bottom lip. I sigh in pleasure, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside my mouth. I must taste awful, having just woken up and all. Mello tastes like a mixture of Tootsie Pop and amazing. Yes, amazing has a taste; it's called Mello.

"Nnhh, Matt," he mumbles fifteen minutes later. We're lying side-by-side now. I've got one hand on the back of his neck, and the other down the back of his pajama pants. Both his arms are around my neck, and his left knee is between my thighs. "I'm hungry. Lets go get breakfast."

I don't want to stop, but my stomach rumbles, and I mentally force myself away from his neck; his perfect, porcelain, slender neck, upon which I have left my mark. He rubs the spot, the junction of his collarbone and shoulder, and smiles at me.
I would, quite literally, kill just to see that smile. He is perfect.

He stands up and takes my hands in his, helping me up. I swing my legs over the side. He's smirking at me again.

"Tsk tsk," he says, cupping the bulge between my thighs, completely noticeable trough the thin fabric of my boxers. I gasp a little at the contact. He leans down and nips at my ear lobe.

"Well, it is your birthday, isn't it?"

I smile excitedly. I can't help it. Mello is going to touch me. There is a god.

He places a slender hand on my bare chest, and pushes me back onto my bed. He climbs on top of me, straddling me again. It's my turn to smirk. I never know what he's going to do.

We haven't, how should I put this, gone all the way...yet. I want to. Oh god do I want to. But I'm not going to push him, no. He'll tell me when he's ready; when he wants to. I think he's a virgin. I hope he is. I'm not, regretfully. Even more regretfully, it was not my choice. But none of that matters now. Mello, my Mello, is all I want. All I need.

He's still licking and nipping at my ear, his hands wandering up and down my torso.
I think I might pass out; lust and drowsiness can do that to a person, I assume.

"Mel...!..." he stops his work on my ear and looks down at me. I blush, even more so than I already am. He'd just started grinding on me; I couldn't help myself.

So, the first word out of my mouth today was a barely audible gasp, dripping with longing. I can deal with that. And apparently so can Mello.

"Aw," he says, smirking again, going back to my ear and working his way to the crook of my neck, "does Matty like this?" He rubs against my groin again. I nod frantically.

"M-More," I plead, and I feel him smile. So he does it again, and again, and again.

I know what he's trying to do, and it's going to work. Yes, yes it is.
Damn it. Well, I don't really care; I have clean pants...somewhere...I don't care...

I watch him as he sits up, tilting his head back. He's enjoying this too.
My gaze travels downward.
Mello is fucking me through our clothes...basically.

"D-Don't stop," I sigh. I'm close, so close...God, he's so hot...
Mello hears my plea, and takes hold of my shoulders. He starts to grind faster, and I whine in pleasure.
"Shh, not too loud baby," he whispers. I bite my bottom lip to keep my mouth shut.

If it's this good now, I can't even imagine what it's going to be like when we actually...

"M-Mello," I whimper; I can already feel my body tensing, "I-I'm ganna, I'm ganna"

"Good," he says quietly into my neck.

"Mello...oh..." that's all I can manage, as I release into my boxers, a visible wet spot forming. He smiles down at me.

"Good boy," he says, cupping my face in both his hands, and I feel him tense up and another wet area forms, this time on his pajama bottoms.

He rolls off of me. We lye there for about ten minutes, eyes closed, catching our breath. Then my stomach rumbles and ruins the moment. I open my eyes, for the second time, to his perfect face. He laughs and sits up, helping me off the bed again. No distractions this time. I find a clean pair of gray sweat pants and a red hoodie to change in to. The latter clashes horribly with my hair, but its comfy, so sod off faishionestas.
Mello hurries through the door that joins our rooms, and comes back a minute later, wearing clean, navy blue boxers and an over sized black tee-shirt. He looks good in anything.

I open my door and we leave for the cafeteria. He laces our fingers together as we walk down the first flight of stairs. I know it sounds cheesy, but I feel special.

When we finally reach the cafeteria, its a around 10:30 am. There aren't many people, fifty at most, seated in various places around the large room. Some are caretakers, but the majority are other orphans. I'm fairly certain this place kicks you out when you turn eighteen, so everyone is close to our age, give or take a few years. Most of the younger kids are still in bed, I would assume, it being a Saturday and all. The oldest one in here is Casper. He's sixteen, and seated in a far corner of the room.

Mello leads me to a table away from where most everyone is sitting.

"Its a special day. I want you all to myself," I hear him say as he pulls out a chair for me.

"I don't deserve you," I smile at him and sit down. Its true.

"Shut up," he says, smiling back at me now. He ruffles my hair and takes the seat across from me.

Not many people stare at us anymore. Most of the building has gotten over the initial shock of us dating. At first though, it was insane. You see, the way we got together was rather, ah, spontaneous. Spontaneous meaning that, one morning, I decided I was going to climb into his bed and wrap my arms around his waist until he woke up. Well, things progressed from there. I was his first kiss, and he was my first real, well, anything meaningful. Eventually someone was sent to wake us, and low and behold, what did they find? Hah, well, lets just say, I was on top of Mel, and the sheets were rather, erm, stained.

Later, we were outside, just sitting there, and all of a sudden,

"Hey, uhm, Matt? Do you wanna like, uhm, you know, be like...uhm...?"
I had stared at him for a minute or two. We were already best friends, and pretty much all the other had. And, in all honesty, I wanted him. Mostly in the physical aspect at the time. I'd have to be blind, deaf and dumb not to. But, there was something more to it.
"Boyfriend and, eh, boyfriend?" I respond coyly. This was obviously the first time he'd ever asked someone out, let alone another boy. He nods sheepishly. Damn, that was cute. I decided not to voice my response, and instead I kissed him on the cheek, and rested my head on his shoulder. He's turning me into a sap, I thought to myself. He blushed, and I took his hand in mine.
"Matt...Mail...I, like you, a lot..." Well no frickin duh; we did just spend all morning practically swallowing each other whole. He was nervous, and it made me smile.
"I like you more," I say quietly. I think I was right. I don't mind though; Mello likes me plenty.
Awkward as it may have been, that was the best day of my life.

He's gotten up now to get us something to eat. I watch him walk over to the counter. I told him I didn't want anything, but I know he'll get something for me anyway. I smirk inwardly to myself as I notice how far away the chocolate muffins, Mello's breakfast of choice, are from the edge of the counter. He's going to have to lean pretty far over to get to one. He picks up a carton of orange juice; that's probably for me.

He just winked at me, ever so briefly but I saw it, and now hes bending...bending...bending...

I quickly wipe my mouth in case I really was drooling. Oh god, he's making a show of himself, just for me. He kicks a leg up behind him and jumps a little, as if it were necessary to reach that god-forsaken muffin. I don't care if he's overacting; I'm too distracted. Mello has a very nice ass.

And apparently I'm not the only one who thinks so. That Casper kid is staring at Mello too, eyeing him like a hungry dog. I feel the sudden urge to take the knife from the table next to me and hurl it at his stupid face. I'm not even looking at Mello anymore as he sits down in front of me again. I'm glaring at Casper from the corner of my eye. He notices and returns the hateful gaze.

"What's the matter?" Mello asks looking at me.

"Nothing," I say and return my eyes to him, "you're too pretty, that's all."

Mello stares at me for a second, blinks and then says with a slight pinkish tint to his cheeks,

"I'm not pretty; I'm badass." Then he begins to attack his muffin with such ferocity its a wonder he doesn't bite off his own fingers.

"Speaking of your ass...," I say, opening the carton he brought back for me.

There's that smirk again.

"All I was doing was trying to get breakfast, and you had to go and take advantage of the situation by eye-raping me?"

"Pretty much, yea," I half laugh. Casper is still looking at him.

"Ah, well you're perverted," Mello tells me through a mouthful of muffin.

"I wouldn't be so perverted if you weren't so sexy."

Mello chokes a little. I think he's trying not to laugh.

"Possibly the cheesiest thing I've ever heard right there."

I smile at him. Hell yea it was cheesy, but that doesn't mean its not true.

Goddamnit! That stupid oaf from across the room is still staring! Fucking ignorant piece of shit! Mihael Keehl belongs to me, dumbass! ME! Get your fucking eyes off of him now!
I think I must be radiating some kind of super sick ass aura, like in Soul Caliber when you're about to kick the living shit out of someone, because I am fucking livid. I don't get angry often enough for me to know how to control it properly, so when something seriously irritates me, all hell tends to break lose.
Fortunately, I get a somewhat practical idea before my anger level reaches boiling point.

"Matt?" I hear Mello say, "what's--?" His eyes start to follow my heated gaze.

I snap my head back in Mello's direction, possibly giving myself whiplash, and grab his chin, forcing him into a harsh kiss.

"Mmph!...mmm..."

I crack an eye open; Casper's face is contorted in pure disgust, which quickly turns to jealousy as Mello snakes his arms around my neck.
That's right fuckface, I think to myself as I tug at Mello's shirtsleeve. This sexy little thing is all over me, not you. So go and wank to him all you want; I've got the real thing. I've gotten Mello's collar down far enough for that dumbass over there to see the hicky on his shoulder.

There's the sound of slamming doors and hurried, angered, fading footsteps.

FATALITY.

"Mmph...Matt...cant breathe."

I quickly let go of Mello's chin, apologizing.

"Its ok, calm down," he says, pulling his now rather stretched collar back to it's rightful place, "and its not like I was complaining." I smirk.

"Yea asshole, you just lap that up don't you?" I nod, smiling wider. Of course I do. I like hearing that I'm appreciated, especially from Mello."Mmm, well, you're a good boy," he says, crossing his legs and patting my hair, "and you deserve every bit of it."
If I had a tail it'd be wagging. I'm quite the dog, if you haven't noticed. "And," he says still petting my hair, but now I feel his foot in quite the opposite of areas, "good boys get treats."

"Does that mean what I think it means?" I ask him, a bit over enthusiastic. Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions, but I think...maybe...he might let me...

"Depends," he says, smirk and foot fully active, "What do you want it to mean?" I stare at him, mouth agape. Because, I think Mello, maybe, just maybe, might let me..."Hmm?" he says, his smirk widening as my lower body begins to react to the friction his foot is creating.

"I..." I'm at quite a loss for words, "I dunno...What do you mean?" He's toying with me; I just know it.

"Well," he says, "if you don't know what you want it to mean, I suppose I'll have to assume..." Mello's foot is moving a lot faster now. I'm trying to keep a straight face, because I'm pretty sure the rest of the room hasn't noticed what he's doing. I can feel my face reddening; my hair and hoodie are probably accenting my cheeks quite nicely right about now.


AN: look mom! no angst! review and i bring you key lime pie!