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“Matt?”
“Mhm.”
“Do you think my hair would look good curled?”
“No.”
“Get me my rollers.”
It’s date night. Mello wants to look pretty.
Matt always calls him his ‘princess’, but he doesn’t treat him like one.
Quite the opposite, actually.
Mello’s all dolled up, hair tussled perfectly. He didn’t curl it, because Matt told him not to.
He has blue lipstick, painted nails and silver jewelry coating his neck and arms.
“Woah.. you actually do look like a princess,” Matt said, starstruck, lips parted as his eyes ran hungrily over Mello.
Mello glared.
“You look like the frog, or whatever. Why are you dressed like that?”
“Why not?”
“I told you, it’s fancy. You’re ruining my whole look.”
“Nothing could ruin that, baby. Might not even make it out the door, you look that good.” He purred, hands running up Mello’s sides.
Mello pushed him away, grimacing.
“Is that all you think about?”
“You know me so well.”
Mello knew not to expect much from Matt. He’d trained himself perfectly in that field.
The date had been objectively worse than Matt’s outfit, anyway.
All that effort to look nice, to look beautiful for Matt, all gone out the window.
Matt never appreciates anything Mello does for him. Or he does, and he just has a terrible way of showing it.
He sat on his DS most of the time, despite Mello telling him off, like a mom disciplining their kid for lacking what should be basic table manners.
The night only got worse—hushed bickering in an attempt not to draw attention to themselves, kicks under the table, glares that could kill;
It all bubbled over when Matt decided to complain about the food Mello was paying for, the blond screaming about how he feels under-appreciated and completely invisible in this relationship.
They got kicked out, obviously, Mello storming off yelling and bitching while Matt followed behind him like a quiet voice of reason, the escorts forceful hand on his back.
And the minute they got in the car, Matt’s loudmouth only made things worse, and Mello couldn’t take it anymore.
”Feel better about yourself? Now our anniversaries ruined?” He said dryly, lighting a cigarette. Mello wanted to set him on fire, burn him with his stupid fucking Chevrolet Camaro.
”Fuck the anniversary! It was ruined before we even left! It was ruined when you walked out of that stupid fucking bedroom wearing that stupid fucking shirt—“
”Well I’m sorry that not everyone wants to dress like a fucking Marilyn Manson wannabe—“
”Don’t you dare compare me to Marilyn-fucking-Manson!”
They weren’t speaking. Why would they? Matt called Mello pathetic and controlling, and Mello told him to go to hell, and there began their stalemate.
Though, that didn’t last long either, another argument following only 3 days after.
Plates were thrown, bottles, punches—all smashed over Matt’s head.
“Get out.” Mello’s words were final, nothing short of hatred blazing in his eyes.
“Seriously? That’s how we’re doing things now? It’s my apartment too, y’know—“
“I don’t care. Go.”
Mello said go, so Matt was gone.
If Mello really was a princess, then Matt was the court jester. Or maybe the servant. Never the prince.
They were broken up. This is what this was, another break up. Wouldn’t be the first, wouldn’t be the last.
Mello contemplated going to a bar, maybe sleeping with a stranger, a silent ‘fuck you’ to Matt.
But no, instead, he stayed inside and watched TV.
And he thought. About Matt, about everyone else that came before the redhead.
Mello wanted Prince Charming, but he soon came to realise Prince Charming is propaganda that only exists in the form of a performative loser that pretends to be interested in everything you have to say, just so he can get in your pants.
Matt’s not performative. He’s not Prince Charming. He’s an apathetic, arrogant dick that’s too confident for his own good.
Mello loves him, with the exception of tonight.
“Why are you here?”
“Where else would I be?”
“The streets.”
“Nah. That’s been my bed for the past week. I missed you.”
“Okay. That it?”
“Not even half of it. This girl, she was like… kinda cute, but definetly not on your level. She was just cute, but you’re like, hot. Like hotter then hot. Like—“
“So?”
“No, I’m not done. So I’m at this bar, right?—“
“You went to a bar?” Mello interrupted.
“Yep.”
“You never go to bars with me.”
“Yeah, Mells, it was desperate times. Let me finish. So I’m at this bar, and I was just ordering, like, bottomless mimosas—“
“You had mimosas? Without me?”
“Yeah, yeah. You missed out. Anyway, so I’m drinking my mimosas, right, and this girl comes up to me. Cute girl. She kinda looked like Jennifer Tilly, and you know how I feel about Jennifer Tilly.”
“I know.”
“So, she comes and sits next to me. And she’s all like ‘you look lonely’. So I’m like, ‘yeah, well, I am sat alone’, ‘cuz what’s that supposed to mean? ‘You look lonely’? Yeah, duh, obviously, I’m sat alone. Then she just like, giggles, but it wasn’t a joke. So I don’t know what she found funny.”
Mello resisted the urge to smile.
“Basically, then, right, she like, puts her hand on my thigh and offers me a cigarette. So I’m getting weirded out, ‘cuz this strangers touching me, but she’s also offering me a cigarette. So, also, like, who am I to say no? So I say, ‘yeah, I want a cigarette’. Then you wanna know what happens next?”
“No, not really.”
“Well, you’re about to. She pulls out a pack of Malboros.”
“…Right?”
“So I say—so I look at them, then I look at her face, and I’m thinking in my head like, ‘awh, I don’t even smoke Malboros anymore. Because Mello only ever buys me Treasure Londons, because he’s like, perfect and treats me like luxury’. So you know what I say to her?”
“I don’t know, do you say yes?”
“Yeah. Still said yes, ‘cuz a cigarettes a cigarette. But in my head, I was thinking, like—if Mello was here, he wouldn’t let me have Malboros. He’d get me Treasure Londons. Because he’s perfect. And I love him.”
“Okay. Bye.” Mello went to close the door, but Matt held it open.
“No. No bye. Mello, I’m sorry. I really am. I owe you, okay? I’m terrible. I know that. And you deserve way better then me. But I’m selfish, and I don’t want you with anyone other than me. I mean, you could have anyone, and you choose me. Even though I’m like.. Bare-Minimum-Billy.”
“Bare-Minimum-Billy?”
“I don’t know, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. I love you.”
Mello was tied between Matt and his own ego. Matt, who dresses like a homeless guy robbed a Hot Topic, and his fragile, precious ego.
“Come in. Say one stupid thing, you’re out.”
“Doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” Matt said sarcastically, smiling hopefully at Mello’s invitation. He walked through the door with a spring in his step.
Mello closed it behind him, crossing his arms as he turned to stare at the other boy.
Matt grinned at him, flashing the crooked gap in his teeth.
He’d had it since he was a kid, but had always said to Mello that he didn’t wanna go through the effort of getting braces. So, he didn’t, and carried the relic into his adult years.
Mello adores it.
“Come on, don’t give me that look. I really mean it.”
“You say that everytime.”
“How do I prove it?”
“By actually following through with your promises?”
“Okay. Okay, I can do that. And if I’m not doing that, I give you full permission to punch me. Like, punch me so hard you knock me out. I’d deserve it. You can even take my cigarettes. And my DS. Anything.”
“…Deal?” Mello tilted his head.
“Deal.” Matt confirmed.
Mello slowly uncrossed his arms, raising them up to wrap around Matt’s neck.
Matt pulled him in by the waist, and they kissed, hard, like they wanted to kill eachother.
Mello bites, and Matt yanks. It’s a perfect dynamic, really.
“If I don’t have you in bed soon, I think I’ll die.”
“Guess I’ll have to keep you waiting, then.” Though, that was a lie, because Mello’s already walking him backwards, pushing him to the bedroom.
The minute they stepped through the door, they were all over eachother, rocking and rolling, touching and moaning, the bed already a complete mess by the time they’d gotten their clothes off.
“Hey, you know—“ Matt towered over Mello, lubed up and ready to go.
“Matt. Shut up and fuck me.”
“Sorry, princess.”
Matt sheathed himself in one smooth motion, a sharp gasp eliciting from Mello at the stretch.
Matt’s big, and he’s thick, and Mello’s tight. They’re the perfect fit.
“Feels good, huh?” Matt smirked, hands on Mello’s hips. He yanked him back against him, not bothering to let the blond adjust. He simply drove into him, burying himself deep before drawing back with a languid roll of his hips and repeating the motion.
Mello’s back was arched, ass in the air. His head lolled forward against the mattress, hair fanned out on the pristine sheets.
“Mediocre.” Mello mumbled into the comforter, pushing back against Matt’s thrusts.
“Guess I better up my game. You only deserve the best, honey.”
“I do.” Mello’s grip on the sheets tightened as he panted in anticipation.
Matt always fucks him hard, always knows where to aim and what to hit. No one could do it like Matt, and that’s a fact Mello hates to admit. It’s the only think he’s actually good at.
‘Matt, Matt, Matt!’ Mello couldn’t stop screaming his name, pushing back into Matt’s thrusts with an insatiable desperation in each movement.
Matt yanked his head back by his hair, hands dug deep into the blond roots. The sudden jerk made Mello’s vision swim in a blurry haze of colour, tears brimming at his eyes.
It felt like being torn apart and remade, whenever he was with Matt. He couldn’t speak, lacking in his usual attitude. He could only take.
Only feel, lapping at every sensation. He thrived on it. On the pleasure, on the feeling of being so wanted in the moment, because that feeling was so seldom found whenever he spent time with Matt.
But he’d promised he’d change, so who was Mello to define a man by his past?
Just as Mello felt himself reaching his peak, felt that puddle of heat bubble up to the surface, Matt pulled out. Completely.
”Matt—what, what?” Mello whined, almost sobbing. The delayed feeling of his climax swam around his body, a stirring sensation that had been torn from his hands.
”I wanna see your pretty face. That okay?” Matt took the liberty of asking, though the question lost its weight as he was already flipping Mello onto his back.
He pushed his thighs apart, hungrily eyeing down the junction between them.
Mello suddenly felt vulnerable, and he pouted, weakly attempting to close his legs.
”Don’t. Don’t do that. I’ve got you, I promise.” Matt pleaded.
”You aren’t very good at promises though, are you?” Mello tilted his head knowingly.
”No, but I’m always learning.”
Matt hoisted his legs over his shoulders, folding Mello’s flexible body into his desired position.
”Fuckin’ hell…” Matt stared with lust-filled hearts in his eyes.
”Get to it.”
”Right. My bad, princess.”
Matt thrust in again, wasting no time. He dug himself in to the hilt, his angle relentless. He probed at Mello’s prostate over and over, lashing at the same spot repeatedly.
Mello gasped, moaned, whined—tears tracked down his cheeks, rolling off his cheeks and into his hair, on the sheets.
He was crying now. Sobs convulsed through his body, his stomach jittering with every shaky breath.
Crying for what? He didn’t know. Was it too much? Was it not enough?
Matt can be so good for him, when he wants to be.
And right now, all of Mello’s senses are lighting up like a Christmas tree, shining brighter than any star in the sky.
He’s a live wire, energy pulses flowing through his blood in waves of electric shocks.
He feels good. He feels amazing. Ripples of sensation wash over him, and he bathes in them, digging his fingernails into Matt’s back.
He was carving himself there, holding Matt as close as possible, making him bleed, making him hurt—just because he can.
It felt like saying ‘don’t ever leave me’, because he feels like Matt’s always slipping through his fingers, but he’d never really say that to Matt, because Matt doesn’t deserve to hear it.
His body moves like water. In and out of Mello with precision, and the boy can’t stop writhing under his touch.
“Hey, hey. You’re all worked up, aren’t you?” The redhead said sweetly, stroking along Mello’s spine.
Mello couldn’t reply, a lump in his throat that felt like it was choking him to death.
“Lost for words?” He smirked, wiping away Mello’s tears.
Mello’s nails scarred down Matt’s back, and he grabbed his wrist for leverage.
Matt’s hand went limp, Mello guiding him easily to the space between his thighs.
”Oh? You want more?”
Mello could only nod, looking up at Matt with a needy gaze.
Matt tutted, “Greedy.”
Mello knee’d him in the side.
”Sorry—sorry. Anything you want, baby.” Matt backtracked, following Mello’s guidance.
He gripped the base of his cock, rolling his hand up and down lazily. Mello bucked into it, fucking himself on Matt’s hand.
Matt smirked, the pre-cum dripping from Mello’s tip making the slide easier. He swiped his thumb over the slit, making the blond’s back arch.
The muscles in his stomach flexed, pulling taught. His hipbones popped, showing off his slender frame.
”Fuck..” Matt moaned, unoccupied hand holding Mello’s knee, keeping his legs apart despite his protests.
He drove into him harder, hand working faster. He’d mastered the art of multitasking, and he knew exactly what to do with this new-found skill.
Matt’s head tipped back, bangs falling into his eyes as he pounded the sensitive bundle of nerves buried deep inside of Mello.
Mello’s hand clutched Matt’s wrist tight, long, black nails digging into his veins. Matt kept pumping him, all while nailing him into next week.
A burst of stars and bright, vivid colours painted over Mello’s vision, washing the world in blinding hues of primaries.
Matt leaned over his body, broad frame towering above him. He grinned, Mello’s eyes locking on his sharp fangs.
His thrusts were as animalistic as his expression, the weight of his stare heavier than a ton of bricks as he grabbed Mello’s jaw, fingers digging into the flesh meanly.
”Forgive me?”
Mello felt dizzy, and his sight was hazy. He couldn’t process Matt’s words, mindlessly nodding along to what was spoken at him.
Matt was fucking him stupid, as if he was exorcising the fight out of him.
It was working, because Mello’s brains were mixed, blended into nothing, and he couldn’t remember what the argument was about, or why they even broke up in the first place.
Matt hummed lovingly, smiling to himself. He stroked his thumb over the blond’s cheek, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Mello’s parted lips.
”Matt…” Mello whined, throwing his head back. Matt kissed down, teeth dragging over the skin of Mello’s neck. He nibbled, swirling his tongue over the soft bite.
Mello gasped, legs falling from Matt’s shoulders, ankles brushing the latter’s arms as they came to snake around his waist.
Matt strummed his fingers along Mello’s thigh, hiking his hand up and down his model legs.
Matt’s hips driving into him and the feeling of those big, callous hands on his cock was too much for Mello, and he was writhing underneath his touch, as if he couldn’t get enough of it.
He was overwhelmed with pleasure, Matt nailing his fucking guts, rearranging his entire insides, all while working his hand over him just as intensely.
”Oh, Matt, I don’t think I—“
”I know.”
Mello’s hands scrambled for leverage, ultimately landing around Matt’s neck, squeezing slightly as he reached his peak.
Matt had him on the edge of release, pushing him over his peak.
His vision splashed white, head melting into a puddle of pure bliss as he came, a deep crash of tremors that raked over his lissome frame.
Matt’s hand was covered in liquid, his thumb rolling over Mello’s slit to drag his pleasure out for longer.
He looked fucking perfect to the redhead, who’s pupils dilated, growing twice their size.
Mello’s expression was completely fucked-out; lips parted, cheeks tinted a pretty, rosy-pink, eyes rolled back.
”God, you’re so fucking perfect…” Matt rasped, hand slowing its ministrations on Mello’s body.
Mello hummed, pulling Matt down for a kiss. The redhead followed shortly after, struggling to keep his composure.
He throbbed at the sight of Mello, cock aching stupendously as he came inside Mello with a grunt, painting his inner walls white.
Mello felt the rush of Matt’s climax enter his system, and he moaned—loud, filthy, another wave of heaven washing over him.
Cum dribbled from his tip, and Matt pulled out, dropping to his knees to catch every drop on his tongue.
Seeing it was one thing, but tasting it was another. Mello was always so sweet, contrasting his personality.
Matt lapped hungrily, Mello whining, because it was so much, and he was desperately pushing and nudging Matt’s head away.
Matt took the hint and pulled back, staring up at Mello with his dreamy green eyes.
”Too much?”
Mello nodded, a broken ‘mhm’ pouring from his lips.
”Sorry. You’re just.. cool.”
”Cool? That’s all you have to say to me? After that?”
”Ah—no. I have a lot I wanna say, just don’t know how to word it without sounding… uh, performative.”
”Come here.”
Matt lifted himself off the floor, coming up to Mello. He laid down next to him before nuzzling into him like a cat, or like a very affectionate dog.
”I’m sorry. You forgive me yet?”
”You already asked me that.”
”You never answered.”
”Matt?” Mello ran his hands through Matt’s hair.
”Yeah?”
”Shut up.”
”Okay. Love you.”