Title: "Getting Around the Block"
Spoilers: Minor spoilers for the second half of the series.
Warnings: NO UNDERAGE READERS. Rated M for a reason. Sexual activities. Swearing. Sexual activities that could count as non-consensual, depending on reader perspective and the unfolding of events.
Summary: Mello knows he must have gone insane, because there is no way this could really be happening. And if it did happen, it would happen to Matt.
Additional Notes: All canon Death Note events previous to this have happened as normal.
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or Tetris, and I do not make any money from these writings.
Mello couldn't remember how he'd gotten to where he was, and that was a bad, bad sign. As were his surroundings. What he saw around him was completely and totally insane.
His first thought was, "Shit, I've been drugged."
His second thought was, "Kira wouldn't need to drug me, he'd just write down that I'd have bizarre hallucinations and then die at the end, after he'd had his laugh."
And his third thought was, "I didn't expect tetris blocks would have such an odd texture."
Because there was no doubt about where he was. He was inside a tetris game, stretched out on a series of shaped blocks that were soft, firm and oddly slippery all at once. Each tetris block was roughly the size of a person. Mello was watching another tetris block descend in jerky motions, twisting above him as it constantly re-positioned itself, glowing a soft blue.
It was obviously not some sort of prop descending on wires. The area was brightly lit and no wires were visible. Besides, it had already made in-the-air motions too complex for anything other than special effects to handle. It was clearly not real life or anything remotely possible. Furthermore, the spatial qualities of the place Mello was in were just crazy.
There was a kind of frame that held the tetris blocks, a frame that was visible wherever the blocks themselves didn't block his view both in front of him and behind him, under him and above him. But the other two directions didn't have proper walls or any sense of a horizon or perspective. There was simply a black nothingness to the right side and the left, in the directions that would be into the screen or out of the screen on a video game. He experimentally thrust an arm into the black nothingness that would be "out of the screen" and watched as his hand disappeared there, but entered from the opposite direction.
No, this was not an elaborate set of some kind, a colossal joke. It was an actual hallucination. A goddamn fucking hallucination.
Mello thought, "I hope Matt got away. Well, if Kira is giving me this kind of shit he probably has me confused with Matt. Did Kira think all information referring to Matt was actually referring to me in disguise? Either way, I don't think I can do anything about it now."
There was an oddly languid feeling in his limbs, a jittery stretched-out sensation of having spent far too much time awake while tracking the movements of various people, few of which did anything interesting. At the thought of being defeated by Kira, Mello could feel in his gut, not the anger he expected, but an intense emotion of simply not caring, at all, about anything. He felt incredibly detached, unmotivated.
All the stress had completely shot his nerves; he knew that, he could feel it. Every part of him was worn-out. Every action had become just going through the motions, working so very hard, spending hours upon hours holed up in various tiny shit-hole apartments with Matt, staring at screens with surveillance videos that continued to show almost nothing useful, hour after hour, day after day.
He laughed, laying there, wondering if anything was worth it anymore, his indecisive mind refusing to even contemplate getting out of the way of the descending blue block, which would soon land directly on him.
He laughed again and thought, "Fuck Kira. Fuck him."
And then, to his surprise, despite the feeling of utter indifference that still pervaded his whole body, he tasted salty tears. He ran his tongue around his lips and savored the taste carefully, as if he were investigating a new kind of gourmet chocolate bar.
Just then the blue tetris block landed on him, squirming on top of him, trying to dislodge him from the cozy hollow he was draped into between an orange block and a purple block.
Mello kicked viciously at it and said, "Fuck you, man, I like this place. Let me die in peace, you fucking fucker!"
As if the block had understood but disapproved, it only became much more vigorous in its efforts, grinding against Mello in the most annoying way. He kicked again with both legs at once, and abruptly realized his boots were now missing as his bare feet connected with the softly glowing, strangely slippery blue block. A split-second later, he realized that it wasn't just his boots. All his clothing had somehow dissolved or poofed out of existence.
And that block grinding against him was beginning to feel really good, warm tingles gathering in his crotch area as his breathing sped up.
Some part of his mind wondered what was really happening, whether Kira or someone employed by Kira was doing this to him or if it was purely the hallucination.
But then he realized he just didn't care. He did not fucking care, he just wanted to get off, to relieve the stress, to have something that was mindless pleasure for once and to not think about it. He grabbed the block in both hands and tried to rub against it, enjoying the slick friction, feeling himself hardening, developing a throbbing need between his legs, arching up into the block.
But the block was unruly. It struggled, slipping out of his grasp and still trying to shove him out of his nook by sheer force. It knocked Mello off balance, and before he could regain it, the blue block roughly shoved him forward against the orange block, his legs caught in the gap between the blocks and his ass in the air. The blue block forced him down, rubbing against his back and his butt and the backside of his legs.
Somehow, it was even better this way. The orange block that was underneath and in front of him had that same delectable texture for him to rut himself against, and at the same time the blue block was invading him from behind as it attempted to ooze into every gap and crack, to fill it up. Mello felt the slippery soft-yet-firm texture gently penetrating him from behind, tentative and exquisite, almost like a pair of lips and a tongue. It was spreading him, rubbing and rocking, beginning to almost lick him deep inside.
He wanted it. He could feel everything opening down there, accepting this thing inside him. Mello wanted it to explore far inside, to completely invade him.
And it was going so deep, warm and wet and wriggling inside him, touching a place that only made him want more and more and made him sweat and rock desperately and whine as he felt his approaching climax building to an incredible crescendo, a tight hot heat driving relentlessly upward as his hyper-sensitive insides were penetrated again and again by his inanimate lover.
He pressed his face into the orange block and let out a cry as he released in a series of hot spurts, waves of pleasure moving through his entire body, giddy, as if all his frustration from the weeks upon weeks of boring stake-outs and mind-numbing sleep deprivation had simply snapped at that moment, and it was flowing out of him entirely, being replaced by a warm afterglow.
He hoped Kira would have to clean up the mess.
Mello woke up draped across the couch and semi-tangled with the cushions, in such an odd position that his first thought was that he'd need to see a chiropractor.
His second thought was the realization that his own finger was stuck in his ass.
His rapidly-softening dick was sticky and lodged between two cushions, and his clothing was mostly off and almost hopelessly tangled around his elbows and knees.
Matt was standing next to the couch with an expression halfway between amused and alarmed.
Mello breathed slowly through his gritted teeth, trying not to inhale the sweaty strands of his long hair that were stuck to the skin all around his mouth.
Matt said, around the cigarette, "I heard it all. You were narrating the whole thing in your sleep, just mumbling and mumbling a running commentary, nonstop. Mello, you let a tetris block fuck you. That's so surreal. I almost envy you."
Matt plucked the cigarette from his mouth and flicked ashes from the end, saying, "Dude, this sounds so much like something that would happen to me, not you."
Mello sat up and tried to collect himself with as much dignity as he could, which was almost nothing, considering the circumstances.
His neck had a terrible crick in it and he could barely untangle his clothing without falling over. He was torn between launching into a marathon swearing session or simply marching silently into the bathroom, cleaning up, and when he came out letting it be known that the subject would never be mentioned again.
Matt grinned and said, "Well, I've been in a threesome with Birdo and Pyramid Head. I've also had Samus somehow magically impregnating me with chocobo babies while Solid Snake holds me down and shits on my chest."
Suddenly, Mello didn't feel at all ashamed.
A/N (Author's Note):
Well, like most of my weirder one-shots, this was inspired by a request on the dn_kink meme on livejournal.
I don't know what to say about this except that sometimes things get very weird. And that Matt's dreams are completely brain-breaking sick scenarios. For example, if anyone actually tackled the task of writing Matt/Solid_Snake/Samus mpreg scat, then I think a gasket would blow in my brain and I would ever afterwards be a gibbering idiot.
Although I suppose what Matt claims in this fic is up to the reader's interpretation, and perhaps Matt is lying just to make Mello feel better.