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There were hands upon his shoulders, bright, easy spots of warmth that were just a touch cooler than the sunlight through the window, but they’d warm soon enough. Mello woke, but the warmth forbade him to get up, and instead he simply shifted to brush the hair from his eyes and look at the spark of crimson in his peripheral vision. Matt pushed his head back down, knocking the blond back into his eyes, and fine, he didn’t want to be looked at this morning. Matt had odd moods, sometimes, but as of yet, it hadn’t become annoying enough to mention. Mello rested back against the pillow and tucked his chin, feeling the hacker ease onto the bed with him bringing the scent of smoke and chocolate with him, something that deepened the curl of the young detective’s lips. Yeah, he’d better pay up, if he expected to touch. He didn’t make the remark out loud, and the hand left his skin long enough to put a half-gone cigarette on the metal frame of his window sill, where it could burn out without doing any damage.
Something fell in the motion, a bit of ash and ember from the tip and it felt…hot, it burned him just at the inset of his shoulder blade. Mello moved to sit up again, but the hacker raked his fingers across it, crushing the fire out and leaving a dark streak of ash down the line of his spine. Mello was fully in his own mind now, attempted to sit up with some protest on his lips and that hand returned to put him down again, a bit more roughly. Those smooth fingers then found the tension in his frame next, the stiffness in the curve of his throat, something he hadn’t noticed until he pointed it out. He forced himself to let it go, because his hands felt like silk, and that was apology enough for him…Matt wanted to touch him, that stroke said. The young detective found the pillow and sunk a bit deeper into its cotton, closing his eyes to the sunlight and the red warmth of it. He listened, but there was nothing but the steady sound of Matt’s breathing above him, and the gentle hiss of their skin sliding against each other with every stroke. It was good, and simple, those hands roaming from the base of his spine back up and curling just far enough over his arms to make him shiver. They warmed, through friction, through the virtue of his heart paying attention, they drifted closer and closer to the radiant haze he’d awoken to and blended with it, until nothing but knowing that it was Matt made the distinction. He dozed in and out for a bit, a few minutes at least, because Matt grew irritated with being ignored and woke him with a burning line of his thumbnail through the ashes.

He lifted his head without thinking, and Matt restated the rules with a bit more force this time, slipping those fingers into his hair and pressing him back, holding him there for a second before letting him go. Mello held his breath, closed his eyes, because he wanted to see that expression, the dark emerald in his eyes, but Matt didn’t want to allow it this time. He counted the minutes, breaths marking them at a steady pace as the touch became routine again, fingers and palms petting the line of his side and throat, begging his attention and giving him nothing to show for it. Mello could feel him, sense him even with his eyes closed, with the way the mattress dipped under his knees to betray his location. He knew if he turned his head, there would be a candy bar or something a few inches away, but the hacker wouldn’t let him have it yet. The hair splayed across his cheek picked up the sunlight and held it too, until they were tendrils of warmth touching him more delicately than Matt ever could. It was quiet.

The brush of his fingers around the line of his hip made it complicated. Mello opened his eyes, stared out his window at the sparse few branches of the tree in the courtyard he could see from here, and tried not to tense. That touch would turn wicked, wonderful, if he let it, but he wasn’t sure if…those touches were such a good thing. It was hard to keep his breath from shivering, but the hand continued without disturbing the fabric yet, sliding down the line of his thigh and back up, tracing the curve of his ass with his thumb in passing. That made his breath catch, God, made him want to look, but if he pushed too hard, Matt might talk himself out of it and drag him out of bed. He was…curious, now that they’d begun this, and it was hard to keep up with the hacker when there was a certain measure of guilt being bantered between them. This was trouble, no matter how it ended, or if they were ever caught. It was addictive.

“God, Mello.” The sound of his voice surprised him, stopped his heart in it tracks because they must have shared the thought to some degree, but this was Matt. It was just Matt, pushing at his skin with a beautiful measure of control, sinking deep to wake the nerves along his bones. He shivered, following those hands up with every fiber of his being, the tension sweetening sharply enough that he wanted to lean up into it, and his fingers tightened at last on the corner of the pillow and the loose blankets beneath his fist. “I want to touch you.”

If it was a question, Mello didn’t hear it, just tilted his head to follow that stroke up along his throat to have his ear brushed just, so, with the pad of his fingers. It made him blush, God, made him want to hide, and that’s why he’d said it, to shame him further into the fabric to keep him from looking. It worked, as he turned his cheek deeper and inhaled the scent of the morning and his own skin. It was a dulcet musk on his blankets, something that Matt had mentioned in passing that he’d never noticed until now. Those hands, fuck, those hands moved lower again, brushing circles over his back to lull him into complacency, and it almost worked, if they hadn’t moved the fabric of his night clothes five seconds later. Matt was teasing, had to be, to keep stilling his world completely in these few seconds of quiet, but the hacker skimmed them down his legs, leaving them around his ankles, and the warmth of the sunlight touched him everywhere now. It was trapped in the blankets below him, pressed faintly across his hips, and he hadn’t noticed how tight he was getting, the low heat simmering in his belly that spoke of how drunk he was. He swallowed, and there was nothing for a minute…a long minute, long enough that he caught himself curling inwards just slightly, because it wasn’t fair that Matt got to look. The scent of smoke moved as the hacker reclaimed his cigarette for a second and then curled low across his spine, up, up the line of his back and when Mello peeked from the pillow again, he could see it drifting in tendrils towards the headboard, as live and viable as the first touch had been, and his knuckles whitened in their respective holds. He wanted to say something, but the sound in his throat was not a word or even a semblance of it, so he stifled it.

Until a moment later, at least, when Matt swung a leg over the long line of his legs and settled his weight there, pinning him. Those hands returned a second later, one drifting into his peripheral vision to put the cigarette down again and the other bracing itself at the edge of his ribcage. Matt leaned forward, putting his weight there until the other joined it, and Mello could still breathe, but God, his mind jumped to make him work for it, shivers racking his frame when that voice crawled into his ear again, stained with the smoke. “…boys shouldn’t be this fucking pretty, Mello…”

He curled in on himself, turning his head to the side because he wanted something, a glimpse, anything, but Matt was sitting back on his heels now, dragging his palms hard down their paths, and it was hardly therapeutic. He traced them in his mind’s eye, every nerve lit to a clarity he shouldn’t have possessed for not being allowed to look…or perhaps because of it, but oh, God, they didn’t skirt the issue, they touched him, continuing over that line he’d drawn so often before to cup the firm globes of flesh and pause there for just a breath before moving on. “Ngh…”

That was him, he’d felt that sound on his tongue, and he wished it would die, because he heard Matt breathe a chuckle behind him, hands slipping to grip his hips and just hold him, long enough to put the thought in his head, because fuck, it was an erotic image that he was being denied, grounded to the damn pillow while the sky got to watch everything. He rolled his shoulders in protest, his first honest movement since Matt joined him, and it earned him a light scratch of nails from his tailbone up to his shoulders again, and his breath came faster, because God, God, that was good. It was so good, all of it, but Matt was going to make him want

“So fucking pretty…” The hacker muttered somewhere above him, and Mello clenched his eyes, feeling that heat spark to throw color in his cheeks again, because he couldn’t make his breath slow down again, it was fast, faster than he wanted, and so telling—A single finger traced its way down again, down the line of muscle in his back to the cleft and between, to press against him, and Mello’s world tilted on its axis.

“Oh, fuck—“

“Shhh…” Matt replied, chuckling again, and putting a hand in the center of his shoulders to hold him down again, maintaining that touch with a maddening clarity, just holding it. It was odd, fuck, it was odd even for them, and Matt must have been reading again, because he’d never even considered…this was just so…new between them, Mello didn’t know how to the handle this, and eyes wide, staring at the headboard and gripping his poor linens wasn’t going to solve the problem. He moved to look at him, because fuck the rules, if Matt was going to break them too, but oh, oh, God, he moved. It was a miniscule motion, just a circle with his fingertip, and the room spun again, that fire taking on a new depth, because he couldn’t ignore that, and that was Matt’s point. He waited, listening to the too-fast pace of his own breathing, waited until he thought he could hear the tobacco burning inches from his head, but it seemed surreal, and there was a low whine in his throat when Matt did it again.

And again, and again, made a pattern out of it that he couldn’t tolerate, it was too invasive, too sweet, too threatening—“Matt, that’s…”

The hacker leaned forward along his back, those ever-present jeans making themselves known against the curve of his ass as he unfolded and braced an elbow by his head, muttering hotly against his ear. “We could have sex like this…”

The thought floored him, completely, shut him down enough that he felt he’d missed something even though Matt was just muttering again, “…I could fuck you, just like this, Mello, think about it.”

His blood caught fire, because that touch was so deep already, and Matt could get deeper? God, he couldn’t breathe, it wasn’t fair how useless his body was proving to be, but that touch sped up just slightly, painting circles, and he was half convinced, half-hard at just the thought. There was more to these sessions, a side of it they weren’t exploring and Matt had been hinting at it for months now, but he hadn’t expected this. Mello didn’t know to expect it, but fucking Matt…

“I’ve read about it…”

And his fucking imagination…

“I can make you feel good, Mello, better than before, better than my mouth, even—“

“Matt, God, I can’t—“ Think when he was fucking doing, that. He felt the hacker tense, and the touch slowed just long enough to press harder, just enough to push that line and make his hips tilt, shivers racing his blood because the heat of this would kill him. The sun burned him now, every nerve glowing, a deep thrum lying under his blood that had nothing to do with his usual morning haze. The pause was brief, just long enough to make sure that he didn’t mean it, because God, but he never meant it these days, did he?

It started again, and he moaned, a low keen in the back of his throat because he wanted to rid of it, but he was curious…and Matt wanted him. He could feel that length pressed against his skin through the jeans, and he knew how it tasted, how warm it was under his fingers, but this was suddenly so damned intimidating. Matt nosed behind his ear, nipped at it, muttered darkly, “Let me, Mello, Let me have it…”

Oh, god, he was going to lose his mind with every stroke, he was fraying apart, and he tossed his head, trying to shake it but his mind was arguing the logic with the rest of his body and losing, “I….I just…Ah…”

He pressed again, and Mello didn’t hear the words, God, he didn’t hear himself, he swore it, “Lo-fffuck…Just…lock the door.”

Lock the door, get up and give him a moment to breathe, to turn this into something else so that he didn’t have to deal with it now, so he had to time to think—

But he could hear that smirk, “I already did.”

Oh shit, Matt was gone before he had time to blink, the shock of it painting his eyes wider, and he turned to look in time to hear a bottle click open and then Matt was shoving him back to the pillow, brushing hair over his eyes again. His heart was a bright staccato in his chest, and he wanted to tell him to wait, but the hacker didn’t give him time. That touch returned, cooler now, and the circles returned, bright and hot and maddening, and he couldn’t handle this, oh Fuck, he’d lied—“Matt, I…Ah-Hahn!”

He bit the pillow, muffling that sound that was almost a sob as the touch deepened like it promised, like it had threatened to, and he was left shattered in his delusions about himself, because it was good. God, it was so fucking good, he was touching him again, and this was different. It ached, slow and steady like a long run cut short by a lack of practice, and it made his fists shake.

“…fuck, that’s tight…” There was something dark there, that stain of anticipation that made his blood catch fire because the lotion made it a smooth touch when the hacker withdrew and pressed again.

Ah…Ah, fuck, Matt, I—nah!” Touching him, God, Matt was touching him, pressing deep and waiting there now to let him adjust, and he could almost feel that stare burning holes into him. There was too much here, something so simple shouldn’t make him want to scream himself hoarse, this was too hot, too fast for them, when he’d made them wait so long for the rest of it. His hips tilted upward into the next stroke, and Matt didn’t hesitate, that wasn’t fair! It was slow, and good, and tortuous, to be captivated by this when he was losing so much control in the first few seconds.

Then the hacker turned the stroke, and the motion made him writhe, but as he was pulling back, the world disappeared. “AH!”

Immediately there was a hand at his hip, holding him still as he took that measure of depth back and he said something, but Mello didn’t hear it, because that was so fucking good he thought he might die. Just…There, his body convulsed with it, shocks of pleasure echoing up his spine and then building there as the pressure remained constant, and the curve of his back was wicked, but that, yes, fuck, he wanted more of that. He grit his teeth, nodding blindly to whatever question the hacker posed but that touched moved again, and it still didn’t matter, because oh God, oh fucking God, he wanted it. That seemed to be the correct response, much to his joy and despair, because Matt took up the circles anew, and Mello clenched around him, sobbing into the pillow as it raced like lightening along every vein in his body. It was good, oh fuck, it was more than good, it was addictive. “Matt, please, that’s…Oh, God, that’s good, oh shit I can’t—“

“…God, I can’t wait…can’t fucking wait…” He heard dimly behind him, that voice and the sound of a zipper as Matt fumbled himself free. The touch increased in pressure again, made him whine with it, and he felt him press against his skin, the mutter fading in light of that touch. “…won’t let me in, not today…fuck, Mello…”

“Please, Please, I’ll try, it’s just…ooh, fuck, like that—“, Short, beautiful taps, and he could feel the motion of Matt fisting himself along behind him.

“Ngh…Not…not today, just this…”

“Matt, Matt, yes, like that, please, it’s so fucking good.” Mello had curled beyond the point of the pillow’s protection, hiding his face in his arms and reveling at the heat of it without further care to the world or the sound of his own voice and how steady it was getting. He could still feel him, the hot tip of his cock brushing just a few inches away from where his hand was somehow managing to be more wicked for once, and it made sense to him, because he didn’t…didn’t know how that would even be possible, when he already wanted to climb inside himself and claw this fire out, it didn’t make sense.

Then Matt showed him, easing a second finger in alongside the first and that hurt. The litany of words fell quiet as he inhaled sharply, breathed, God, because he was sure someone was telling him to, but it was so hard to focus. The hand at his hip didn’t let him pull away, and he groaned at the intrusion, but Matt wouldn’t let him go. He tried again, but the deft motion of those fingers convinced him otherwise, because that was a broader pressure now, more direct and just…focused, and he was going to die.

“…Don’t stop talking, Mello, let me hear it…” He wanted to, there were words, there were always words, but then he withdrew and rammed back, and it wasn’t a word, it was fucking shriek on his lips because oh shit, that was better.

“M-..Matt, fuck” He couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to breathe, he was high on this, thrown far beyond the simplicity of the sunlight and the wooden grain of his headboard and other things that he’d always associated with pleasure. He was burning, he was dying, he was in love with this, and they hadn’t even done it yet. Another stroke, and Mello was fighting the fabric still wound around his ankles, letting Matt guide him up to his knees. “That…please, Matt, please, I want more.”

He heard Matt groan behind him, the bottle clicked open again, and he listened, God, waiting for it, because he wasn’t allowed to look. Matt stole his mind, however, brushing hot, firm little circles over that spot, and he couldn’t think anymore, vision hazed almost completely as the touch resumed with a new fury. He was burning, god, that heat was twisting through his stomach and up his spine, wave after wave of pleasure, until he was crying out with damn near every stroke, it was perfect. Then he felt Matt, pressed up against him, and he panicked, because he’d said he wouldn’t—“Matt, what—“

“Hush…Close your legs, Mello.” He hadn’t even realized he’d spread them, but he drew his knees together, some degree of his bashfulness returning when he recognized the hacker’s intent. The length of him was trapped between his thighs now, slick with the lotion he’d stolen from somewhere, or bought just for this, Mello wouldn’t put it past him. He was hot, and hard, and something was so wicked about this, especially when he started to move, “…yeah, fuck, like that…”

He drummed his fingers against his prostate then, putting sparks behind his eyes, and Mello forgot how to think again, feeling that motion tip him forward because he hadn’t braced for it. Fuck, fuck, fuck, that was so…Oh God, it was getting bright, the heat from the sun no longer a warmth, but a burn, everywhere, “Please, don’t stop, don’t stop, Matt I’m close…”

The thrusts increased again, just slightly offset by the ones lower as Matt fucked the channel of his thighs and that skin grew hot with the friction. He could hear him, breathing behind him, small, quiet sounds that he wished he could claim as his own, but he was stuck with chanting obscenities and praying that Matt listened. He did, God, he always did, loved to hear him when he got like this, because he was pulling his hips up again to meet him, and the thought of those strokes, of that power, to the inside fascinated him as much as it terrified him. He was losing himself somewhere, trying to hear Matt behind him and feeling him more than he could possibly handle. He bucked, and Mello twisted, and Matt shoved, and Mello had to catch himself or scream, and it was beautiful, intense, God, too much to bear.

He caught fire finally, another wave of heat putting a new tone of desperation in his throat and he stopped listening, stopped caring, because he was getting there, oh fuck, he was getting so close, and just…He was just…

Matt snatched him up by the hair, putting him right at that line, growling, “Tighten your legs, Mello.”

“God, I’m sorry, Matt please I’m gonna…I can’t—”

Twice, three, four, Oh Fuck, Matt killed him, driving brutally against that high note until he battered him to nothing with it, and Mello came, hard enough that he couldn’t scream, arching back against that touch in a desperate fit to be closer, God, make it last a second more, he didn’t know he’d wanted it until it hit him. “Matt, Matt, Matt—Ah! Fuck, ohhh—“

Oh God, he was done, collapsing against the blanket in time to hear the frustrated sound behind him before he was gripped again and bodily flipped over. “Want to see you, want you to watch…”

His eyes were still hooded, fuck, he could barely see to do as he was told, but he didn’t want to fall asleep on him, because the tender skin between his legs still hummed with the friction, and Matt was fucking beautiful. Those eyes, those dark, dark eyes held his as he finished himself, one hand braced on the headboard and the other on his cock as he worked himself over, it made him want to encourage him, to get up and whisper filthy things in his ear to tip him over the edge, but Matt didn’t need any fucking help, he was already biting his lip, because he was so damn—

Quiet, when he came, spilling himself just at the inset of the young detective’s hip with the smallest sound in the world, crumpling forward when Mello’s hands found his hair and pulled him down, because Fuck, over an hour, and he hadn’t even kissed him—“I hate you. I fucking hate you.”

“Shut up, or I’ll do it again.”

Mello twisted his ear, and the hacker bit him, but he was too tired to argue, and definitely too exhausted for seconds.

…And the sun was warm, anyway, better with the length of another body along his, their clothes haphazardly shoved to the foot of the bed.