DISCLAIMER:

I DO NOT OWN DEATH NOTE.

I also do not own what Matt says when he has his sexual crisis, that belongs to one of Ninjabridge's episodes of Naruto Abridged. Do watch it, it's amazing.

Neither do I own Pulp Fiction which is the movie "Wallace" is from.

I am so sorry.

When I first encountered Mello he was sipping his drink in a bar. The only thing I could distinguish at first from his features was his golden hair. Then, as the light rested on him, I saw a very thin wrist, bones poking through very pale skin, giving me the impression that he was sick. He was holding the glass disgusted, clearly impatient, waiting for someone to appear. Suddenly, he took out a bar of chocolate from the pocket of his black leather jacket. He broke a small piece and dipped it in his whisky. The very second after the alcohol-y sweet hit his tongue his face relaxed and I could see a small smile creeping its way on his lips. All this happened in-between two blinks of my eyes. For Mello was enough to notice and I did not have time to avert my gaze, so I just pretended to look around, searching for someone even though the look he was giving me was saying "You are not fooling me."

I was only fooling myself.

The air surrounding us made me wary and I waited until I finished my cigarette and my drink to leave.

As I was walking down the street, a pair of heels were echoing behind me, it was Mello. I knew that because I also heard the sound of chocolate wrapper being folded and then the sound of a generous bite.

Damn, he was a whore and I was about to get some ass. Too bad the only money I had were spent for the drink and the pack of smokes I bought earlier.

We walked a few blocks down, he behind me, clicking his heels against the concrete, periodically kicking a pebble out of his way and me clutching the zipper of my jacket.

Soon I stopped in front of a bench, I hesitated but I sat down, then took out my phone and pretended to send a text. Actually, I was texting Near, hoping he would reply so I could get busy. The sound of me tapping on my phone was disrupted by a guttural voice.

Great

"I have a nice room."

"I have no money." I blurted, immediately regretting it.

"I am lonely."

"You're a bad liar."

"FINE!" he stomped his foot on the ground "I got dumped."

"Not my problem."

"It could be…"I heard heels again, he was approaching me. My heart started to beat fast because never had I encountered such situation. He kind of looked like a sociopath, he kind of talked like a whore.

What if I get fucked then killed? I don't want to end up like Wallace.

I lit up a cigarette as the slim silhouette sat next to me on the stiff bench, making me even more uncomfortable if that were possible. I took a long drag, stuffed my phone back in my pocket, ditching Near who, for the first time ever, replied to my text, and leaned backwards. I blew half the smoke out and the other half I coughed it out as Mello laid his head on my shoulder, breathing on my neck. His breath smelled of chocolate and alcohol, it was intoxicating ... in my mind popped up the image of a fierce woman, her blonde hair serving as her whip. I was confused. When I dared to move my eyes to him, I noticed, in the dim street lights, that he was very feminine, even more than the way I saw him in the bar. His hands were stuck in tight leather gloves, bringing out the soft outline of his slim fingers that were slowly crawling on my chest.

"You shouldn't smoke, it's horrible when you kiss."

The promise I made to myself of not uttering a single word hoping that the prostitute would just..leave me the heck alone broke down into thousand of pieces, and I, on the verge of running away like a little prepubescent teenager, said this:

"Good thing no one kisses me, right?" Not right.

The next second Mello's fingers were sprawled on my chin, pulling sheepishly, almost without me noticing , getting me closer to him. And when I thought he changed his mind, I felt him get closer, I was getting warmer, his face and lips mushed onto mine, incredibly gentle, as if I was his first. But then, when his tongue slashed through my lips, entering my mouth, he climbed on me, straddling my waist. ON the street, where people could see, I was being molested by a pretty boy. And I was having NO reaction whatsoever, even more, my hands, in an attempt of trying to get him off, were clutched to his jacket, looking as if I was enjoying if not wanting more.

Why was I not reacting? Well, firstly, because I was not hating it 100%, and because I had it coming for being alone in a bar for homosexuals at 3 a.m. . In my defense, I was not there for my pleasure but for a case, unfortunately after I ordered my drink and prepared myself for investigating the place, I received the call that put me off the case.

And then again…

I was not really hating it.

His tongue was unusually warm for a winter day, and his legs unusually strong for his slim figure. So many things were happening in such a short time. It left me breathless and I had to force myself out to breathe, cupping my hand around Mello's neck and squeezing slightly. Fortunately, he got the drill and pulled away, one inch, for which, even though it was still a bit hard to breathe, I was thankful. He stared at me, breathing heavily, clearly aroused for some weird reason, eager for more but noticeably getting bored for doing all the work. I was flustered, exhaling like crazy. I was in shock. And thinking everybody considered me a cool guy. But my reaction, admittedly late, was normal for a person who had never pursued in such intimate contact.

My hands relaxed, finally, but were trembling from all the clutching, and accidentally ended up on his rear that was also warm.

How is so warm?

"I think I might have some money saved…"

He was a pretty slut.

Mello looked bemused for a second but regained his expression when he started rubbing my crotch. I started cursing my skinny jeans and screaming in my head:

IM NOT GAY,I LIKE BOOBS, IM NOT GAY I LIKE BOOBS, I AM BOOBS, I LIKE GAY.

"I could blow you, right here."

"Don't."

"I am going to blow you right here." And I froze. Both literally and metaphorically as he unzipped my jeans and pulled out my hardened cock, but then I immediately melted into bliss as he wrapped his mouth around it, not just the tip, but a mouthful, as if it were that bar of chocolate. His saliva coated me in seconds.

I don't understand how someone can produce that much saliva, that means he's well hydrated.

I tried not to enjoy it, imagining the police coming and rescuing me from him, imagining the cell I would be thrown into. But it did not last because he was very skilled and his tongue was doing all sorts of twists and movements I did not know were possible , and I never moaned in my entire life, but there I was panting and emitting grunts from the back of my throat. It was my first blowjob, but I knew darn well it was be the best I would ever get.

When his teeth scraped against the tip I thought he was going to bite it off and run away. He didn't, he actually brushed his lips on the skin, flicking his tongue multiple times until I came, into his mouth. I filled him like the darn Thanksgiving turkey we used to eat at Wammy's years ago.

He swallowed.

Then it hit me.

That was not the first time I encountered Mello.

And shit, that was not my first kiss nor my first blowjob.

"Have you actually forgotten about me, Matt?"