03. Lighthouse

An incoherent jumble of curses and moans spills from Mello's lips, as he feels the ice-cold fingers brushing against his heated skin. In an attempt to control his impulsive writhing, he twists to grapple at the bedsheets, but his palms are slick with sweat and God, he can't even think, let alone stop.

Smirking at the reaction, Matt continues to tease his fingers lightly across Mello's stomach, before barely ghosting over his needy erection.

"Matt," comes the choked hiss, "I fucking swear to God, I will break your fucking neck if you keep—"

"Yeah?" grins Matt in reply, stopping his touches altogether. "Go on."

There's a moment of stillness as Mello tries to remember how to breathe. A burst of oxygen enters his lungs with each ragged breath, as he stares through the dimness of the apartment at Matt's face above him. Behind the dopey smile, a tinge of pain lingers in Matt's expression. It's masked well, but for Christ's sake, they've been friends — or lovers, or whatever the fuck they are — since forever, and there's no way in hell that he'll let Matt hide anything from him.

With a painful groan, Mello sits up. "Goddamnit, Matt. You've been acting weird all day. What's the fucking problem?"

Matt blinks in surprise at Mello's response. He'd expected hands around his neck, or fists to come flying at him, or to be kicked off the bed or — or something, but not this.

"I asked you a question." Even though he's still somewhat breathless, the irritation in Mello's words is evident.

Matt decides not to push his luck any further, spilling the first excuse that comes to mind. "Nothing. You just look sort of adorable when you're all desperate for more." Refusing to make eye contact, he pushes Mello back down onto the bed, straddling his waist firmly.

Almost immediately, Mello throws him off with a forceful shove. "Don't bullshit. What's the fucking problem?" he repeats angrily, watching Matt land in an awkward heap.

Under the guise of shifting his body into a more comfortable position, Matt turns away from the fierce glare. "Nothing, okay? Stop overreacting."

"No, you stop fucking with me!" A hand grabs his wrist, digging fingertips into his flesh to force him around, but he presses his lips together defiantly.

Answered by nothing but stony silence, Mello loosens his hold, dropping his hand back onto the bed. "Fine. Whatever. See if I give a damn." He rolls onto his side to face the wall, still naked. The chilly air bites at his skin, a sharp contrast to Matt's body heat, but he hunches his shoulders stubbornly against the cold. After a while, he hears the mattress creak softly, and a familiar arm snakes over his waist, but he jerks irritably away from the touch.

"Mell, you're being a drama queen."

When Mello doesn't respond, Matt sighs in defeat. Laying his head onto the pillow, next to Mello, he reaches forward to play with the messy strands of blond hair.

Unsurprisingly, Mello yanks his head away. His wince of pain is uttered into the pillow, but Matt hears the muffled noise anyway. Smiling wryly, he looks up at the ceiling, even though it's too dark to see anything, and whispers, "When will you get tired of me?"

The words are bitter, and Mello can't help but stiffen. 'What?' he nearly blurts, before remembering that he's supposed to be pissed off.

"I asked you a question," Matt persists, with the slightest quaver in his voice.

Although his back is turned, Mello knows exactly what Matt's expression looks like right now. Screw this, he thinks, and turns away from the wall.

"What the fuck,Matt?" he asks, curious and irritated and almost afraid.

Matt shrugs, but there's no confidence in the movement, only despair, and Mello feels something wrenching in his chest.

"You idiot," he growls. In one swift movement, he pulls Matt toward him and kisses him roughly. He savours the feel of Matt's breath mingling with his, before grazing his teeth over the redhead's bottom lip to continue the trail down his throat. "You," he says, pausing between licks and nips, "are mine. My bitch. And I'm not going to— to get tired of you, or whatever you were going on about. Okay?"

The kissing stops as Mello looks up, studying Matt's face intently for his reaction. For a moment, Matt's eyes remain averted, but then a slow smile spreads across his face, and it's genuine and God, Mello thinks his heartbeat must be screwing up or something because it starts to pound like crazy.

"Yeah," answers Matt, the confidence back in his tone. "Okay."

"Good," Mello mutters grumpily, but the last part of the word is cut off as Matt lunges in for a kiss. Caught by surprise, Mello uses his left hand to push against the mattress, steadying himself for balance.

The fingers of his right hand, though, are laced together with Matt's. His grip is tight, like he's clinging on for dear life and Matt's hand hurts, because Mello's nails have been digging into the back of his hand for almost five minutes now.

But that's okay, really. Aside from the half-moon imprints and bitten fingernails, their hands sort of fit together perfectly, anyway.

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note:

asdjhsajkdhj. They're both horribly OOC, aren't they?

Oh well. Please concrit, because concrit is my life. Or review, if you can't be screwed to be critical, 'cause that's okay too.

Please don't shoot me for the long wait in between; I'm just lazy.

Much love, and happy new year guys. -hearts-