A/N: This was for the Anonymous DN Kink thing on livejournal. The prompt was "RodxMello, kink: prostitution" and I was like OMFG ANGST OPPORTUNITY so I jumped on that. Yeahhh. Enjoy my weird rape-esque fanfiction.

I don't own anything.

It was never supposed to come down to this. He thought, in the very large scheme of things, that it wouldn't have to be this way. He didn't tell Matt. Matt would try to make him stop. He couldn't stop. He'd worked too hard to stop. This was only one time. One time, and then he could reach his goal. He told himself that as he approached the hotel room, bile threatening to expel itself from his mouth. He pushed the keycard into the slot, having to try twice as the first time, he didn't insert it the right way. He opened the door, and plastered a smile on his face that truly made him feel like dirt and nothing more.

"Good evening, Rod," he greeted cheerfully, ignoring the gentle caress of an itchy leather hem on his midriff. He'd left his gun at home, with Matt. His redhead dream, his ginger love. God, how he wished this wouldn't happen. This belonged to Matt, nobody else. But all thoughts that could bring tears to tear-dry eyes were pushed back along with a strand of golden hair behind his ear. He was Mello. He would get through this.

Approaching the man at the window, he had to remind himself of the reason. It was all he could do not to turn on his heel and start running frantically for home. Home, where Matt waited. Where he had his own bed, his pride, his lover. But that wasn't important now. Near was important. Beating Near and finding Kira. If this was the only way to do that, then Mello would do it. This wasn't really his first time. It didn't count.

A turn, a smile that was really a sneer. A rough fingertip tracing his jaw. "Pretty. I knew I made a good decision when I chose you." He sat in an armchair and nodded upwards, gesturing at Mello's body. "Take off your clothes." Mello did. He unzipped his cropped vest, shrugging it to the floor. He wordlessly proceeded to his pants, taking no leisure time in unlacing the complicated knots. The leather pants, with some urging, fell to his ankles.

Rod laughed, and Mello felt a wrenching in his stomach. "I knew you wouldn't wear anything under there, slut. I bet you get it at least once a night, hm?" He raised an eyebrow, but it was barely visible against the dim light of a flickering lamp.

Mello was silent. Rod grunted and shifted, unpleased by the lack of a response, but his eyes lit up after a few long moments. "You're a virgin, aren't you?" The question dipped into Mello's conscience and reminded him that he was giving away the one thing he valued most about himself (besides his mind) to some disgusting man because he thought he had no other choice. Well, if he had a choice before, he didn't now. They would find him if he ran. Find Matt. God, if Matt died because of him… no, he had to do this now.

"Yes," he said quietly.

A laugh. It lasted for hours, it seemed. Mello honestly didn't see the humour, but he didn't get angry. Finally, the noise stopped, and the meager reaction Mello managed to allow was halted. He'd bitten his lip, and it slowly unfolded from his teeth as the laughter stopped. "Take off my clothes," came the next order that made Mello want to die.

He did.

Rod smirked in a positively sickening way as Mello's lithe hands came to unbutton his jeans. A pop, and a zip, and the deed was done. Rod told Mello to take his shoes, socks and pants off, in that order. Mello did. He let golden bangs cover his eyes from view as he tugged off a pair of leather shoes, then slid gently two white socks from the flesh of Rod's feet. He reached up to grasp the belt loops of Rod's pants, slowly pulling them off of the man's legs. His legs were muscled and shapely, but Mello didn't like it.

He was pulled up by his hair, but didn't whimper or cry. He just was. Shoved towards the erection that he had quickly come to hate in the past three seconds, Mello knew what he was to do. He hated it, but he knew. He pushed the tip past his lips, having to fight every notion that he had that begged to stop, to run, to resist. He pushed further, but was only able to fit half into his mouth. He wrapped a hand around the remainder of the shaft, hoping Rod wouldn't push him too far onto this disgusting piece of flesh.

He did all he knew to do. He ran his tongue under the length in his mouth, pressing his cheeks in as he worked hard to free himself from this place. He wasn't here, not in his mind. He was with Matt, in bed. It was morning. He remembered it well. It was just the other day.

"Mel, why don't you let us have sex?" Matt's tone was quiet, but not hurt. Matt wasn't a little bitch, he was a tough guy. He was just curious. He wasn't hurt. Somehow, Mello had a feeling that even if he hurt Matt beyond anything he could imagine, the ginger would just shrug it off. He'd done it before. Matt almost pretended that Mello had never left him to rot in that terrible, gloomy Wammy's House. Whenever Mello would bring it up, Matt would just ignore. The blond wasn't concerned that Matt was hurt. No, never. He was only worried that he was being too cruel by not putting out.

"Matty, you know me. I'm like an old lady with chastity," Mello laughed. Matt laughed too. He didn't mention it again. They held hands, kissed softly, and when the sun rose fully, Mello leaned on Matt's chest, surrounded by Matt's body. He wanted to leave Matt again, to protect him, but he knew he could never do that again. It had hurt too much for them both.

"I love you, Mel," came a soft whisper. It was hardly even a whisper, and briefly, Mello wondered if he was even supposed to hear it.

"I love you, too, babe. You believe me when I say that, right?" Mello held his breath, almost fearing the answer. He wasn't surprised when it came, though.

"Course I do. You're my Mello," laughed Matt, and even though both of them knew it was a fake laugh, neither questioned.

Suddenly, Mello's mouth was full of Rod Ross's salty essence, and he paled when he realized he'd spat it out on the floor. Looking up at Rod, he knew what came next. Whether or not the other man would punish him for not swallowing wasn't important. What was important was what was about to happen.

Mello was pushed onto the bed, and a large, rough hand came to slap his tender skin. His legs were forced open, and his head shoved face-first into a pillow. Before he could do anything, he was being pushed into. No room for argument, no place for objection. Mello let out a loud cry of protest, but it was ignored. Soon, blood was trickling from his entrance as he was ruthlessly plowed. The length of flesh in his ass was like a plug of sorts, but it was slathered in the red liquid as well. The pain was indescribable. Mello wished he'd had sex with Matt. Anything to make this easier. Anything. He whispered prayers, begging for forgiveness from his lord and master. Unheard by Rod, these prayers were partly directed at God, but mostly directed at Matt. Rod grunted as he thrust into Mello. He moaned praises of Mello's body, calling him perfect and sexy, but Mello hardly heard it. He wasn't hard, and he was closer to crying than he'd been in many, many years.

Finally, it was over. Mello was set free with a violent shove, and he shakily got his clothes on, the sticky white liquid clinging to his walls and turning pink with the mixture of blood as it dribbled from his abused hole. Soon, that wound was covered by a pair of tight leather pants. "You've got your recommendation," panted Rod. Mello just nodded, and wished he could take a shower. He knew he could never be cleansed of this, though. It was something he could never escape. Mello almost felt bad for himself, but he wouldn't stoop lower than he already had. This wasn't his first, he reminded himself as he staggered outside the hotel, flagging a cab. He fidgeted the entire way home, getting strange looks from the driver. He ambled up the stairs to the door, and remembered the keycard in his pocket. He snapped it in half, a single tear leaking from each of his otherwise stolid eyes. It was an unusual sight, seeing Mello's eyes blank and unemotional. Usually burning with anger or hate, sometimes love and adoration, they were never devoid while open.

Well, this whole night was full of firsts.

Ringing the doorbell to his own home because he was scared that Rod would take his key if he brought it, Matt answered the door with a smile that quickly fell. Mello collapsed into his lover, sobbing and confessing to each and every sin he'd committed that night. He wailed apologies, and promises that it was for their own good, and that he loved Matt too much for it to matter. He cried, and Matt guided him to the couch. Matt stroked his hair softly, the golden strands shifting under his fingers. But for all these apologies and sobs and tears, none of it really mattered.

Matt had already forgiven Mello.

What did you think?