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“This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”
Matt flicks cigarette ash out the driver’s side window and taps his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Impossible.”
He glances over at Mello and smirks around his cigarette, relishing in his irritated frown.
“You said that having orange juice in my cereal this morning was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”
Mello rolls his eyes so hard Matt thinks he might strain something.
“Well, that was this morning. You’re going for a record, apparently.”
“Hm, got me there.”
Matt blows a cloud of smoke out the window and leans down to stub his cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe, before tossing it out the window and pointedly ignoring Mello’s disapproving scowl.
“You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Oh, come on,” Matt says, clutching invisible pearls and giving Mello the most hurt look he can muster. “Do you really have that little faith in me?”
“In your driving, your self preservation, or your general common sense?” Mello flips his hair over his shoulder and looks out the passenger window at the quickly gathering crowd of spectators and vehicles. “Because the answer is the same for all three.”
Matt rolls his eyes and leans over the centre console. He takes Mello’s chin in his hand and turns his face towards him, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.
“Aw, you’re worried about me,” he says when they part, a wicked grin splitting his lips and making Mello shove him away in exasperation. “How sweet.”
“Whatever,” Mello huffs, crossing his arms and slumping back against the seat. “When you get arrested or end up in a pileup, I’m not going to come save you.”
Matt shakes his head and tries to stifle his almost manic grin. The adrenaline of the coming race is already buzzing in his veins, and it’s making him want to keep prodding Mello to see how much of a reaction he can get out of him before it starts.
He knows that part of Mello is genuinely worried about him, though, so he reigns himself in and brushes his fingers against Mello’s arm.
“I’ve done this before,” he reminds him. Mello scoffs.
“Is that supposed to make me think you’re less of an idiot?”
Matt opens his mouth to retort, but there’s the sound of engines revving and people shouting, and he realizes the race is about to start. He shoos Mello out of the car, blowing a kiss at his grumpy expression before the door is slammed in his face.
Laughing quietly to himself, Matt straightens his gloves and adjusts the strap of his goggles, beat-up sneakers tapping restlessly on the floor.
It’s been way too long since he’s done one of these. He can’t believe he forgot the rush, the excitement, the addicting scent of gasoline and rubber mixed with the incomprehensible noise of a crowd.
And now, Mello is here. It’s the first time Matt’s raced since they met up again, and he was equally floored and ecstatic when he’d reluctantly agreed to tag along and watch. The thought of Mello in the crowd, watching the video feed of the race and maybe even meeting him at the end, is enough to send another thrill through Matt’s body.
A sharp tap on the window makes him jump, and he looks out to see Mello standing with an impatient hand on his hip. Matt rolls the window down, a question on the tip of his tongue.
Leather-gloved fingers catch his chin in a tight grip as Mello’s lips crash against his, capturing him in a deep kiss. It’s over too soon, Matt dazedly drifting up as Mello pulls away with a self-satisfied smirk and saliva-slicked lips.
“Don’t die,” is all he says, before he turns on his heel and disappears into the crowd.
Matt’s hand raises to his mouth, and he licks his lips as a jolt of heat shoots down his spine. He swallows hard, shaking his head and rolling his window back up just in time to see a girl stepping up onto a pile of crates with an airhorn in one hand, a flag in the other.
She grins out at the line of cars and holds up both hands. An entirely different spark rushes through Matt, and his hand flies to his stick shift as he revs his engine along with the other cars.
The airhorn blows and the flag is swung down, and they’re off.
The sensation of speeding down an improvised track, the rumble of the engines in his whole body, the shaking of the gearshift in his hand as he flies down the road is something Matt never knew he’d missed this much. He hears himself laughing as he shoots past the other cars, the blaring music from his speakers drowned out by the engines and the blood pumping in his ears. The bass thuds through his feet along with the roaring engine, and he grins maniacally as his heart matches the pounding beat.
He tears around a corner, hearing another car’s tires squeal but feeling his own glide smoothly over asphalt as he straightens his angle and keeps speeding ahead. The neon lights from buildings and billboards are a blur, as fuzzy as his thoughts while instinct and long-buried muscle memory take over for him. He’s a natural at this—it’s one of the few things he prides himself on more than anything—and he feels like he’s letting go of years of stress and trauma as he flies.
It’s fucking exhilarating, and through the adrenaline and endorphin rush he almost doesn’t see the bright blue mustang until it’s right on his tail. He yelps and swerves to the next lane just in time, almost getting his rear light taken out as the car shoots ahead, cutting way too close to him. He catches a look inside and sees a split-second glimpse of the other guy’s smug ass expression before he pulls ahead again, leaving Matt second in the running.
Matt grinds his teeth and grips his gear shift, narrowing his eyes behind his goggles. He doesn’t get angry, not really; it’s too much effort, and it takes a lot to really get him steamed. But he feels himself bristle as he stares at the mustang’s tail-lights, and, breathing a silent apology to Mello, he shifts gears and slams on the gas, hearing his engine scream at the strain.
It’s worth it, in the end. He gets to see the other guy’s face fall as he flies past him, and he laughs as he pulls into the front, fingers tingling with nerves and excitement. Matt can see where the race ends, the tall lights a small glow at first but steadily growing, until he can make out the crowd of people cheering and screaming. The lights mark the end of the track and, shifting gears and leaning back in anticipation, Matt blazes through the finish line and skids to a dramatic stop a few yards away.
He can hear the sound of the crowd through his music, and with a half-crazed grin he opens the door and steps out, raising his arms as the cheers and boos and shouts wash over him in a wave of sound.
The blue mustang finishes second, and the driver’s exit elicits far more cheers than Matt’s did; he’s new to this scene, after all, and from what he can tell, the other guy’s a fan favourite.
It doesn’t matter to Matt, though. The adrenaline is coursing through his veins, and his ears are ringing from the unending wave of sound, and he feels young and free and alive. He looks around for Mello, and after a moment spots him leaning up against one of the tracking vehicles; a couple people volunteered to drive some spectators down the shortcut to the end of the track, and Matt’s heart swells at the fact that Mello actually did wait for him at the finish line.
He slams his door shut and crosses the space between them in a few long steps, before grabbing Mello’s hips and yanking him in for a hard, dizzying kiss. He can feel himself grinning, and after a moment Mello does too, bringing his hands up to cup Matt’s face and pressing into him.
Finally, they part, and Matt is delighted to see Mello’s eyes shining with excitement, the atmosphere finally rubbing off on him.
“Okay, I’ll admit,” he shouts over the noise, as a few of the other cars speed past the finish line and prompt more cheering, “that was kind of badass.”
Matt laughs, and he can’t hear himself over the noise but he feels it bubble from his chest.
“Right? God, I forgot how much I fucking missed this.”
Mello rubs his nose against Matt’s cheek, nipping playfully at his jaw and laughing against his skin.
“I can tell. You look so high right now.”
“High on fuckin’ life!” Matt whoops, throwing his arms in the air and hooting up at the sky. He hears Mello crack up, and looks to see him almost doubled over, looking at Matt with stars in his eyes.
“You are actually so stupid,” he manages to get out once he catches his breath. Matt grins so wide his cheeks ache.
“S’what you signed up for, babe,” he says with a wink, which just sends Mello into fits again.
“Hey, congratulations!”
Matt turns and sees the girl from before standing in front of him with a bright smile, holding out an envelope. He smiles crookedly back, taking it and tucking it into his vest pocket.
“Thanks. This was a hell of a race.”
“Not for you,” the girl laughs. “You absolutely swept it. The fuck kind of car is that?”
“Oh,” Matt says, glancing over to his car, “just a standard ‘68 Camaro. I’ve done a lot of work on her, but we haven’t raced in…about five years now? Somewhere around there.”
“Well, I’m impressed,” the girl says, looking over his car approvingly. He grins.
“Thanks.”
“Hey, Matty?”
Without warning, a hand slips into Matt’s back pocket, and he can suddenly smell Mello’s cologne and feel his breath on his ear. He turns his head awkwardly and gives him a puzzled look, but any question he might’ve been about to ask dies on his tongue when he sees the look Mello’s giving him: dark, with his pupils swallowing the blue of his irises, and fucking hungry.
“Let’s get going, racer boy,” he says, and his voice is casual but there’s an undertone that makes Matt shiver all the way from the base of his spine to the top of his skull.
Matt glances over at the girl again, who looks a little bemused.
“Yeah, uh, thanks again,” he says, trying to smile as best he can with Mello’s hand kneading his ass through his pocket, shielded between their bodies so no one can see him practically groping Matt in the middle of the street.
“Have a good one, kid.”
She turns with a flip of her hair and disappears out into the crowd, and as soon as she’s gone Mello yanks Matt back against him, making him squeak in surprise.
“C’mon,” he says in Matt’s ear, the roughness in his voice making Matt’s breath catch.
Still, there’s something there—the barest hint of a tone—that makes Matt’s eyebrows fly up and his neck crane to look back at Mello again.
“You were jealous.”
Mello scoffs, but his hand squeezes Matt’s ass warningly, bordering on painfully.
“As if I’d be jealous of that slut.”
“Mello,” Matt laughs, trying to chide him but also finding the situation way too funny, “you don’t even know the poor girl. I don’t even know her. She was just officiating the event. You don’t have anything to be jealous of.”
“I’m not jealous,” Mello growls. Matt turns in his grip, draping his arms over his shoulders and giving him a shit-eating grin.
“You,” he says lowly, teasingly scratching at the base of Mello’s neck, “are so full of it.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Jeevas,” Mello warns, but as he speaks his eyes shift to the side, and Matt sees his brow furrow. He glances over his shoulder to see what Mello’s looking at, and sees the driver of the mustang leaning against his car and talking with a few big, burly guys. At first, Matt’s ready to brush it off as a casual discussion; but then he sees the driver’s face, and the way he’s standing tense against the side of his car, like he’s trying to back up against it. Matt frowns, but before he can say anything the driver catches his eye and points, saying something Matt can’t hear, and suddenly there are three huge men walking their way, and Matt has the feeling that they’re not coming to congratulate him. He turns, feeling Mello’s hand warningly brush his lower back.
“Nice ride,” one of the men says, glancing over to Matt’s car. He fights the urge to step between them, instead just shrugging and trying for an easy smile.
“Thanks.”
“Haven’t seen you around here before,” the man continues, in a tone that would sound casual to any passers by but holds an edge that makes alarm bells start to go off in Matt’s head. “What’s your name, kid?”
Matt hesitates.
“M,” he says after a moment. The guy raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment on it.
“See, M,” he says, glancing back at the Mustang driver, who’s hovering by his car and looking significantly less smug as he watches nervously, “you’re new here, so you wouldn’t know. But my boy over there, Ricky, he’s been top of the league for going on four years now.”
Matt has to physically bite his tongue to keep from pointing out that their “league” is just an unofficial ring of illegal street racers, because he doesn’t think this guy would appreciate having his terminology scrutinised.
“But you,” the guy continues, pointing at Matt, “you just show up out of nowhere and wipe the floor with him. Pretty impressive stuff.”
“Well, you know,” Matt says distractedly, trying to find a place in the conversation where he can excuse himself and get the hell out of here.
“The only problem with that is that, since Ricky’s pretty much undefeated, he’s got a lot of people out here betting for his odds.”
Oh, fuck. It suddenly hits Matt exactly what’s going on, and he feels Mello tense behind him as he comes to the same realization.
“Listen, fellas,” he says, raising his hands and inching backwards a bit, “I didn’t mean any disrespect, yeah? Actually, I was, uh, just leaving. Gotta go…feed…my wife…”
He stumbles over an excuse, and he can practically hear Mello mentally face palm as he winces at himself. The guy looks unimpressed, and Matt sees the two others step up beside him, one of them very unsubtly cracking his knuckles.
“Your wife can wait,” the fist guy, and obvious leader of the trio, says. “Why don’t you come with us and have a little chat?”
Mello’s hand is on his back again, this time pressing flat and tapping a finger twice against him, and Matt swallows hard and gives a small jerk of his head in response.
“Y’know, I’d love to,” he says, taking a full step back, “but I really should be going. Have a nice night, gentlemen.”
“Oh, you’re not going anywhere.”
The guy suddenly lunges out at Matt, grabbing for the front of his shirt. In an instant, Mello is there, grabbing his arm and twisting until he shouts in pain. The two goons at his sides both go for him, but Matt shoots forward and drives his shoulder into one of them as Mello shoves the leader into the other, sending all three toppling.
“Nice,” Matt gasps, grabbing his arm and insistently tugging. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“We can take ‘em,” Mello protests, clearly already taken by the adrenaline rush.
The leader recovers his footing and straightens up, death in his eyes as he stalks towards them, and Matt sees the glint of a blade in his hand.
“Nope,” he decides, yanking Mello back and dashing to his car. He opens the driver’s side door and shoves Mello in, crowding in after him and shifting into gear as Mello is forced to scramble over the console and tumble into the passenger seat. Matt rips out of the lot before Mello even gets fully seated, making him yelp as he gets thrown against the door on a tight turn.
“Sorry!” Matt yells, glancing in his rearview as they speed away, seeing the big guys get into a bigger truck and flash the headlights. He curses, accelerating and biting at his lips.
“That asshole,” Mello mutters, turning in his seat to look out the back window. “He drove me to the finish line; had the video feed of the race pulled up on his dash. God, I knew he was acting weird when you pulled ahead.”
“That Ricky guy is probably in for it now,” Matt says, quickly switching lanes and turning onto a different street. “Poor bastard.”
“I would be less concerned about him, and more focused on getting us the hell away from those psychos,” Mello snaps.
There’s the sound of a roaring engine, and Matt looks in the mirror to see the truck barrelling up behind them. He hisses and swerves, making a quick turn that he’s sure the big truck will have to slow down for.
After a good ten minutes of random turns and several broken traffic laws, Matt pulls onto a busier road. He doesn’t like having to slow down, but even with the minimal traffic this time of night, he knows that the odds of the thugs chasing them onto the busier city strip are slimmer than if they’d stuck on the outskirts. He blindly reaches into the cupholder for his cigarettes, slipping one out of the box and sticking it between his lips.
“Mel, can you give me a light?”
Surprisingly, Mello doesn’t protest. There’s the click of a lighter and a flame flares to life in the corner of Matt’s vision. Mello holds it to the tip of his cigarette until it catches, and Matt greedily inhales a deep lungful of nicotine.
“Thanks,” he says in a rush of smoke, and Mello grumbles and cracks the window.
Apparently, Matt’s suspicions were correct: after a while of driving randomly down the most populated roads, he can’t see the truck anymore. He has Mello climb into the backseat and look out the rear window, but after a few minutes he reports that the truck is nowhere in sight.
“Thank fuck,” Matt sighs, letting his head thump back against the headrest as Mello gets back in the front seat. Gloved fingers pluck the cigarette from Matt’s lips, and he glances over to watch Mello take a long drag.
“You’re such a hypocrite,” he points out. Mello narrows his eyes and blows smoke in his face; he coughs in surprise and waves it away with one hand.
“Dude, driving!”
“Hypocrite,” Mello parrots back. Matt rolls his eyes, choosing not to argue.
They drive in silence for a few minutes. Matt flicks on the radio, turns the volume down so the music is just background noise, and cracks his own window a bit to let the cool night air whisk away the smoke. He doesn’t really have a destination in mind, instead just enjoying the drive with Mello. A smile pulls at his lips, and he tilts his head to blow another stream of smoke out of the window.
“So,” he speaks up after a while, “what’d you think?”
Mello raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.
“About getting chased down by a bunch of thugs?”
Matt rolls his eyes.
“About the race, you prick.”
Mello laughs, a low, quiet sound that makes Matt smile.
“I can see the appeal,” he admits. Matt looks over at him in surprise, grinning.
“Wait, for real?”
“Yeah.” Mello leans over the console and steals his cigarette again, playing with it between his lips in a way that makes Matt have to consciously force himself to keep his eyes on the road.
“Actually…”
He brushes his fingers along Matt’s arm, and even through his shirt sleeve the sensation makes him shudder.
“It was kind of really hot.”
Matt barks out a laugh and shakes his head.
“Now you’re just making fun of me.”
Mello hums in the negative, trailing his fingers up the inside of Matt’s forearm in a way that sends goosebumps rolling over his skin.
“I mean it,” he says lowly. His voice is right next to Matt’s ear and his breath smells like smoke, and Matt’s eyelids flutter as he tries not to visibly shiver.
“Seeing you do crazy shit like that is always hot, you know,” Mello purrs. “And the way you fucking lit up after…”
He brushes his lips to Matt’s ear.
“I wanted you to bend me over your stupid fucking car right there.”
Matt knows that he’s playing it up, either to get a reaction out of him or to make fun, but god if that fucking voice doesn’t get him every time.
“Don’t talk about her like that,” he tries to joke, but even he can hear how weak his voice sounds, and Mello just laughs at him. He flicks his tongue out against the shell of Matt’s ear, and Matt’s foot twitches on the gas enough to accelerate them in a jolt. Mello yelps as they’re both jerked forward, and the moment is broken, but when he looks back at Matt he looks about two seconds away from losing his shit and Matt can’t help but grin back with flushed cheeks.
“Driving,” he says again. Mello narrows his eyes.
“You know what?”
He glances out the window, then back at Matt, and his eyes are dark and Matt realizes that maybe the moment wasn't broken after all.
“Pull onto a side road. Now.”
Once they’re far enough away from the heart of the city, Matt turns up the radio and speeds up until they’re flying down the empty road. He’s not going as fast as he was during the race, but it still makes his face relax into a small smile. Mello opens his window further and leans out, and Matt can’t help but watch as his hair whips around his face and he laughs into the wind. It’s darker away from the city lights, but the faint neon glow still shines over the zippers of Mello’s vest and sparkles in his eyes when he looks over with a sharp grin.
“We should do this more often,” he says. Matt laughs.
“Who are you, and what have you done with my Mello?”
He’s expecting a quip, but instead he catches the barest hint of a shiver along Mello’s shoulders. His lips curl up in a smirk, and he drops one hand off the wheel to rest his arm on the console. His fingers teasingly hover just above Mello’s leather-clad thigh, the thrill that rolls through him only a slightly different kind than when he races.
“You gonna be able to hold out ‘til we get home?” he teases. Mello scoffs.
“Says you.”
He reaches down and grabs at the front of Matt’s jeans, and Matt’s hips buck up as Mello gropes him through his pants. His smile grows to a toothy grin at Matt’s reaction, and Matt groans through his teeth as he slowly works the slight bulge in his jeans until his dick is pressing against the fabric.
“You’re so easy,” Mello sighs, snickering when Matt’s hips twitch up after his hand when he pulls away. “And you call me a slut.”
“You are a slut,” Matt snips back. “You’re the one who got turned on watching me drive a car.”
Mello scoffs and crosses one leg over the other, giving him a look.
“Are you gonna pull over and fuck me in the backseat or not?”
Matt swerves slightly, and Mello cackles. Flushing, he slows and scans the side of the road for a place to pull off, and sees one in a dirt side road that leads into a nook of trees. Left foot tapping impatiently, and Mello’s hand back on his groin, he pulls off and parks just out of sight of the main road.
The radio continues to croon in the background as Matt leans over the console and meets Mello halfway, sliding a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him into a greedy kiss.
Mello kisses like he does everything else: sharp, passionate, and with full intent to drive Matt crazy. He nips at him, flits his tongue against Matt’s lips, presses closer and deeper and more. Matt makes a soft noise into his mouth and Mello laughs, pushing his tongue past Matt’s lips and rolling it in a way that makes Matt’s stomach jump.
It’s not helped by the hand he’s still got on Matt’s crotch, and as they kiss he continues to grope at him through his pants, until Matt’s panting breathlessly against his lips and pushing up into his hand.
“Feeling good?” Mello teases against his lips. He cuts off any quip Matt would’ve made by rolling his wrist just right, and Matt’s next breath comes out in a groan.
Mello laughs again and lays his other hand on Matt’s chest, pushing him back until their lips part. He doesn’t have time to protest before Mello’s swinging one leg over the console and planting his knee on his seat, quickly followed by the other, until he’s straddling Matt in the driver’s seat. He looks down at him, all sharp edges and smooth skin and blond hair curtaining his face, spilling over his shoulders. He’s backlit by the moonlight, dulled by the light pollution and smog of the city, but when he grins down at Matt his teeth glint and his eyes flash.
He leans down again, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear and brushing his lips against Matt’s temple.
“You gonna fuck me good, Matty?” he murmurs in Matt’s ear, dipping his fingers up under his shirt and teasingly brushing the skin above his belt. “Gonna throw me around and make me scream?”
Matt groans again, though he feels it rumble like a growl in his throat, and his hands fly to Mello’s thighs and grip them tight. He rubs his face in the crook of Mello’s neck for a moment before biting down. Hard.
Mello hisses through his teeth, strangling a cry in his throat, and Matt sucks at the skin of his neck as he blindly fumbles to his left for the door handle. He forces the door open and, in one smooth movement, lifts Mello by the thighs and pulls him out of the car. Mello makes a surprised noise and quickly wraps his legs around Matt’s waist, and Matt feels his pulse beating under his tongue. The fluttery thump of blood under Mello’s skin makes Matt’s own heart pound, and he spins and slams Mello against the side of the car, still holding him up and going to town on his neck.
Mello moans, but chases it with a breathless laugh.
“Fuck, Matty,” he gasps, throwing his head back against the roof of the Camaro and arching his back. “Getting antsy, huh?”
Matt loosens his teeth from Mello’s neck just long enough to grumble, “Shut the hell up,” before he runs his tongue over the deep divots, digging in and relishing in the pained hitch of breath he hears from above him.
As much as he fucking loves the sight of Mello bent backwards over his car, he hit the nail on the head when he called Matt out on his eagerness. He feels his fingers twitch against the muscle of Mello’s thighs, and he pushes him a little more into the car so he can still hold him up while pulling one hand away and impatiently running it along the door to find the handle.
He has to pull Mello off the car to wrench the door open, but the second his feet hit the ground Matt is sealing their lips with another kiss. Mello’s hands come up to grip the sides of his face, and Matt shoves him forward until he’s able to push him into the back seat.
Mello bounces slightly on the cushions and looks up at him, hair fanned out around his head and lips plump and shining with saliva. With him laid out like this, Matt can clearly see where his erection presses up against his pants. The sight of him laying there, splayed out over Matt’s back seat, chest quickly rising and falling with the breaths that rush from his parted lips, is almost too much for Matt to handle right now.
He lifts his knee to rest on the seat between Mello’s thighs, not bothering climbing in all the way or closing the door as he dives back down to lock their lips again. His forearms are firmly planted on either side of Mello’s head, holding him up so he doesn’t have to awkwardly stand and dodge the low roof of the car, which means he can’t get as handsy with Mello as he’d like.
Mello, on the other hand, has both hands free and something to prove. Matt feels the soft kiss of leather against his sides, slipping up under his shirt and dancing over the skin of his back, his torso. A gloved finger runs roughly over one of his nipples, and he groans against Mello’s lips at the jolt. His chest isn’t particularly sensitive, but his entire body is a fucking livewire when it comes to Mello.
And it seems like Mello has no intention of giving him a break. Matt feels like his hands are everywhere, touching, stroking, pinching, squeezing. He feels them dip into his back pockets, push under the waistband of his jeans, run up his arms and grab his shoulders to pull him down until Matt’s chest is pressed against Mello’s. It’s not until one of his hands strays too close to Matt’s face that he sees an opportunity to take back some of the control, and he catches one of Mello’s fingers in his mouth, pinching the leather between his teeth.
Mello stares up at him with dark eyes, and Matt feels a smirk tugging at his lips. He slowly, slowly turns his head, bringing the glove with him, until it slips off of Mello’s hand and hangs limply between his teeth.
Mello makes a strangled noise deep in his throat, and he throws his legs around Matt’s hips again and drags him lower to grind up against him. Matt stifles his own groan and spits the glove onto the floor, then turns his head and nips at Mello’s bare fingers. His hands are warm from being covered all night, and Matt makes sure to catch his eyes as he licks the pad of his finger, then runs his tongue up from the heel of Mello’s hand, to his palm, to lick up the length of his middle finger. Despite himself, he can’t help but remember when they were kids, when Mello would get annoyed and cover his mouth with his hand, only to shriek and shove him away when Matt wriggled his tongue between his fingers.
Remembering that now makes him snort, and Mello pulls his hand away and gives him a suspicious look.
“What?”
Matt shakes his head, trying to push down another laugh at his expression.
“Nothing. I’ll tell you later.”
Mello narrows his eyes, and he looks like he’s about to press the issue, so Matt takes initiative and shoves his hand down Mello’s pants.
Or, tries to. Because as hot as Mello’s leather clothes are, they’re fucking annoying to actually get into, and Matt grunts as his wrist gets trapped between the stiff waistband and Mello’s lower belly before he can reach his dick. Mello snickers and raises his hips teasingly.
“What’s wrong, babe? You need something from me?”
“You’re insufferable,” Matt says conversationally, shifting up on his knees to free his hands and struggle with the stupid laces at the front of Mello’s pants.
He manages to loosen them up enough to get his hand down the front of Mello’s pants, and when Mello’s breath hitches and his hips twitch, he decides that’s good enough for now. He buries his face in Mello’s neck again, licking at the teeth marks that haven’t fully smoothed over yet, groping him through his underwear and huffing at how hard he already is. Sometimes he forgets how easy it is for Mello to keep his composure, but he can’t hide his excitement from Matt when he’s twitching, hot and hard and needy, in his hand.
Maybe Mello realizes it too, or maybe he’s just getting impatient, because he abandons the pretense of being cool and collected in favour of harshly carding his fingers through Matt’s hair and grinding up into his hand. His fingers get caught on the band of Matt’s goggles, and he makes a frustrated noise, grabbing the strap and yanking them over Matt’s head. The eyepieces pull at Matt’s face and he yelps, but in a moment Mello has them off and dangling in his hand, and he’s tossing them into the front seat before Matt can adjust to the change.
Matt blinks rapidly, trying to get used to the shift in his vision, but his focus is greatly diminished by Mello’s tongue pressing flat against his jaw and dragging up, hot and wet and sending tingles down Matt’s spine. Maybe it shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but Mello’s got a way of melting his brain out his ears, and as he latches onto Matt’s earlobe and sucks it into his mouth.
He hears a car pass their little alcove, and even though the lights are off and they’re hidden from the road, his heart jumps into his throat as it whooshes past. He’d really like to take his time with Mello, but they’re technically in public and he knows that if he wants to actually fuck him, he needs to do it now.
Mello’s eyebrow quirks when Matt leans forward into the front and opens the glove box, rooting around inside for just a moment before coming up with a condom and a small bottle of lube.
“Why in the world do you have that in your car,” he demands, but Matt can tell he’s trying not to laugh. He frowns and pinches the side of Mello’s thigh, though the slight sting doesn’t seem to deter him, and he watches as Matt pulls off his gloves and tosses the condom onto the seat with the same mischievous glint in his eyes.
“It’s my car,” Matt tries to defend himself, though it’s a little hard when he feels like his face is flushing half as red as his hair. “I can have whatever I want in the glove box.”
“What,” Mello teases, finally taking pity on him and undoing his own pants with ease, “were you just waiting on pins and needles to rail me in your fancy car?”
Matt’s brain stutters, and the silence as he tries to think of some witty defense is apparently answer enough. Mello stops halfway through shoving his pants down his legs to look up at him, and his grin widens.
“Oh, my god. You have been, haven’t you?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Matt grumbles, glaring at the floor as Mello pulls his pants off and hangs them over the back of the seat. Mello cackles, stalling with his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his underwear.
“This is so funny,” he snickers, giving Matt a shit-eating grin and teasingly pulling at the band of his boxers. “You really are predictable.”
Matt glowers at him for a second before suddenly knocking his hands aside, grabbing Mello’s underwear and none too gently yanking it down his legs. Mello yelps and kicks in surprise, but Matt just uncaps the lube with his other hand, letting Mello’s underwear hang loosely around his ankles before leaning over him.
“You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”
Mello just smirks up at him, and Matt huffs in irritation. He makes quick work of coating two fingers in lube, before trailing his middle finger up the groove of Mello’s ass and resting it, for a brief, taunting moment, over his hole. He doesn’t give Mello time to get his bearings before sliding it into that familiar tight heat.
Something is off, though. While Mello’s never been one to go slow by any means, usually it takes him a second to adjust when Matt fingers him open. Now, however, Matt’s finger sinks in easily, and when he raises an eyebrow and tries two, they’re met with little resistance.
He looks up at Mello, only to see that his face is red and he’s glaring at the roof of the car. Matt puts two and two together, and a slow, sly grin curls his lips.
“Mello,” he says, watching Mello’s face carefully as he spreads his fingers inside him, “did you…?”
“It wasn’t for you,” Mello snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and having the absolute gall to look annoyed, despite having been caught out. “It was a coincidence.”
“Oh, yeah?” Matt prods his fingers deeper, delighting in the way Mello sucks his lower lip into his mouth in the way he always does to keep himself quiet. “You sure? ‘Cause from where I’m sitting, it looks like you fucked yourself already today. Can’t have been more than a few hours ago, either.”
He leans down and nips sharply at Mello’s earlobe, loving how he can hear the hitch in his breath this close.
“You have something to tell me, babe?”
Mello scoffs, but it hitches into a sharp breath when Matt adjusts his angle and curls his fingers, and he feels his hips twitch up and his dick brush the front of Matt’s shirt.
“Did you get a little excited thinking about me?” Matt innocently asks, twitching his fingers again to feel the way Mello tenses as they brush against just the right spot. “Did imagining me as a badass racer get you all worked up?”
“Shut up,” Mello grits out. Matt just laughs, low and mean into his ear, and pulls back.
“No, actually, I don’t think I will.” He pulls his fingers out, smirking when he sees Mello’s cock jerk pitifully. “I don’t think I’m going to be shutting up about this for a long time.”
“You sure talk a lot for someone who doesn’t even have his dick out yet,” Mello snips.
Matt feels the instinctive urge to argue back, but his dick is in fact not out yet, and his patience has been holding on by a thread since the first time Mello called him Matty, so he decides to ignore him in favour of grabbing the condom with one hand and undoing his belt and jeans with the other. He doesn’t miss the way Mello’s tongue darts out to wet his lips as he watches Matt pull the waistband of his boxers down just enough to pull out his cock, and he smirks to himself and shuffles closer, ripping the condom packet open with his teeth.
“You’re such a brat,” he sighs, though his breath catches slightly when he rolls the condom on, dick twitching in his hand. “You know, you’re lucky you’ve got a nice ass, because you’re really quite annoying.”
“I know.” Mello curls one of his legs around Matt’s thigh, pulling him in and grinning up at him devilishly. “Now fuck me.”
He’s not being entirely serious, but as Matt curls his hands around Mello’s thighs and shoves them open, he sees the teasing spark in his eyes darken into something else, and that’s enough for Matt to take a breath and push forward, dick catching on Mello’s rim for a moment before finally sliding inside.
“Ah,” Matt’s mouth falls open with a sharp breath; he feels Mello’s legs twitch and tighten around him as he presses in, falling on his hands with a hiss. Mello’s still soft inside from earlier, even with the minimal prep, and it makes Matt shudder as he presses his lips to the damp skin of his neck.
“Fuck,” Mello bites out, and Matt raises his head to gauge the look on his face. His teeth are clenched, and for a moment Matt wonders guiltily if he should’ve prepped him more.
But then Mello meets his eyes, and his lips part on a heady exhale, and he squeezes around Matt in a way that’s unquestionably purposeful, and Matt decides he’s done waiting.
The car shakes with every sharp thrust, every one of Mello’s punched-out breaths echoing high and thready in the close space. He’s usually so collected, unless the right buttons are pushed, and Matt knows how to play him better than any game. He bites down, hard, on the sensitive skin just below where the burn tapers off on his neck at the same time that he slides a hand under the small of Mello’s back and hitches his hips up, and grins around the skin between his teeth when Mello curses, voice high and reedy.
“Fuck,” he whimpers, legs tightening further around Matt’s hips, and Matt sees his lips turn white as he bites them hard to keep quiet. Matt smirks and pulls back, letting himself appreciate the sight of Mello splayed out below him, hair a mess, eye makeup smeared from sweat. They’ve both been desperate for this for too long, and the whirlwind night they’ve had makes Matt confident and cocky.
He grabs Mello’s hips and drags him back, shuffling until his legs are back on the ground and Mello’s rear is hanging off the edge of the seat. Mello barely has time to shoot him an indignant look before he’s thrusting again, driving forward over and over until the car is shaking and Mello is letting out beautiful little sounds with every impact.
“Fuck, Mel,” he groans, throwing his head back as a well-aimed thrust makes Mello’s walls flutter around him. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”
Positioned like this, Mello can do little more than writhe against him, legs hanging on for dear life as Matt supports his lower body. He digs his boots down and thrusts harder, slamming into Mello and panting against his chest.
“Matt,” Mello hisses, and Matt lifts his head to meet his eyes. Mello has the audacity to glare at him, despite his heavy panting and flushed cheeks.
“Fucking,” he gasps, throwing his head back as Matt slams his hips forward, “oh god—fucking touch- touch me, you idiot—”
Matt huffs out a laugh, though it morphs into a groan as Mello clenches around him in warning.
“Yeah, okay.”
He adjusts them so he’s got one arm wrapped around Mello’s waist, freeing up his other hand to curl around his leaking cock.
He knows it’s not going to take Mello long, by the way he feels his back muscles tense up against his hold, by how he spasms in a way that makes the roiling heat in Matt’s gut spike thrillingly. He groans and tightens his grip, working Mello over in the way he knows gets him off fast and hard. Mello’s just as much a slut for adrenaline and he is, and as another car whooshes past somewhere out of their sight, Matt feels his body shudder.
“Matt,” he rushes out, heels digging into his back as he starts pulling himself down to meet Matt’s thrusts, “Matt, fuck, gonna—”
“Yeah,” Matt gasps, feeling his hips jerk out of rhythm, “me too. C’mon, Mel, come for me.”
If Mello were more present, he’d probably complain about the cheesy line. But as it is, he just arches his back and makes a long, keening noise as come spurts from his dick, splattering over his vest and running down Matt’s fingers. He tightens almost unbearably, and Matt groans through his teeth and slams his hips home as he lets the rushing burn overtake him.
The ringing in his ears fades after a few seconds, leaving only the sounds of their panting breaths and the rustle of the leaves around them. Matt pulls out carefully, tying off the condom and holding it hesitantly as Mello pushes himself to sit up.
“I…may not have thought this through.”
Mello stares at him for a second before snorting, shaking his head with a mocking grin.
“You don’t say?”
He pulls his underwear up as Matt rummages through the glovebox with one hand, eventually coming up with a couple napkins that he wraps carefully around the condom. He stuffs the large clump of napkins in the cupholder, hoping to god he remembers to throw it away when they get home.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks as Mello climbs back into the passenger seat, dressed only in his vest and underwear. Mello scoffs.
“I’m not trying to get back into those pants after that,” he says. “It’ll be fine.”
“Uh-huh.” Matt grabs his goggles from where Mello threw them and puts them back on, before slamming the rear door shut and getting back in the driver’s seat. The radio turns on quietly as he starts the car, then pulls back onto the main road.
“So,” Mello says after a while of driving in silence, “What are you planning to do with the prize money?”
Matt blinks; he’d almost forgot.
“Shit, that’s right. Hm.”
He thinks for a moment before shrugging.
“Honestly, I’ll probably spend most of it on stuff for this gal. Between the race and the strain we just put on her suspension, she’ll need some upgrades before next time.
Mello glances at him out of the corner of his eye.
“Next time, huh? Are you talking about the racing, or the fucking?”
Matt snorts. He grabs another cigarette from the box in the cupholder, lighting it before grinning over at Mello.
“Both, hopefully. What, you have an objection?”
Mello laughs; the clear, loud laugh that makes his nose scrunch up and his eyes crinkle.
“Nope. No objections here.”
The conversation trails off, and Matt turns the radio up a little while Mello opens the window. The air outside the city is clear, and Mello is smiling at nothing, and as Matt places a hand on his bare thing and that smile is directed at him, he thinks that he really wouldn’t mind doing this again, either.