AN: Well that took longer than anticipated. I sawee... -gives you lemon while staring guiltily down at feet- Can we still be friends? -hug- I'm sorry, I'm a creepo... Oh, and has anyone else noticed all my lemons are done in present tense? Not sure why I do that...hm...

Warnings: Buttsmex! Finally! :d
Disclaimer: Nope, not yet.
Detication: My Matty. Mine. -huggles- You touch him, I eat you. He edited, so if you find errors, its his fault, not mine.
By the way, this is the third and final part. Enjoy.

Mello awakens some sixty seconds later, still on his back, still staring up at the ceiling fan, with the boy on top of him still lapping at his neck like he's some sort of caramelized dog treat. Not that he's going to complain.

"Ngh... Mail..." He mumbles into the vibrant hair. The blonde suddenly realizes his chest is exposed, and quickly scanning the room, he thinks that's his (or rather Matt's) hoodie hanging off the corner of the bed. What's more, is that the redhead is now planting sloppy wet kisses all up and down his chest. Mello also feels that the other's knee is still between his legs, and begins to motion his hips against it lightly.

"Didn't think you'd be up so soon, Princess," Mail chuckled as his mouth traveled downward to lick at one of Mello's hardening nipples. "Shame. You looked so adorable, all unconscious and defenseless... Pretty rape-able actually." He said the last part with a snarl before attacking the slight dip between the blonde's pectoral muscles with ravenous kisses.

Mello had made a face at the nickname; why the other insisted on calling him that, Mello would never know. What the blonde did know, however, was that there was currently a tongue sweeping it's was up and down his chest, and that he was getting more turned on by the second. And had the redhead mentioned something about rape? Since when does Matt talk like that? Especially to Mello.

But then he remembers he's not dealing with Matt. The being currently latched to his chest prefers to be called Mail.

So, in a way, Matt isn't present at all. And Mello supposes this is the redhead's way of letting lose without the consequences. So he'll let Mail have his fun. Because, so far, fun for Mail is fun for Mello too. And as long as he gains something from it, Mello is up for anything.

Much like his crotch at the moment.

Mail seems to notice how much the bulge has grown just from shifting against his knee, and yea, he's proud. Proud that he can control Mello in such a way that it leaves the blonde whimpering when he retracts his knee from between the other's warm thighs.

"The hell?" Mello almost growls, then remembers he's the one on his back, and rephrases. "Why'd you make me stop?" The redhead's canines glint in the dim light of the bedroom as he smirks.

"Cause I don't want you cumming yet, you little whore. You're throbbing down there, I could feel it. You will cum when I give you permission. Understand?" The blonde's first instinct is to lash out and just call it quits all together. But, he does like Matt. And he does like sex. And the two are even better when combined. So, grudgingly, and giving a look that just screams vengeance, Mello swallows his pride and nods.

"Good boy."

And this time Mello growls. Matt knows very well that HE is the dog. But this isn't Matt, Mello has to remind himself; this is Mail. And the blonde isn't going to pretend he doesn't like this sudden personality change. He's usually been the one on the receiving end, but everything was always done his way, on his terms, and the redhead had little or no say. Mello always wondered how it would be if Matt were more dominant in bed. Well, he's got a pretty good idea now.

"Why're you wearing my clothes, Mel," It's asked quietly into the blonde's neck as Mail licks gently at the very tender bite marks he inflicted earlier. Mello shivers at the feel of the wet appendage on his sensitive skin. It stings, but in a good way.

"M-my leather...wasn't hnn c-clean-n..." The blonde stutters, his arms snaking their way to loosely wrap around the other's neck. He whimpers slightly as the stinging sensation sends a jolt to his groin, and his thighs seem to spread of their own accord.

"Well you don't seem very clean either," the redhead laughs lightly, bringing a hand down to cup the blonde's still-clothed package. "Maybe I should throw you in the wash? Hm?" He squeezes lightly, watching in mild amusement as the lithe body beneath him shudders at the touch and arches into his palm. It's just so easy. Mello is so easy. "Slut."

And yea, it stings a bit. Maybe even more so than the bite, but Mello keeps it in context with the current situation: soon to be fucked. Suddenly, 'slut' is the sexiest word ever. The blonde nods slightly, grinding his ever-growing arousal against the hand between his thighs. "Y-yeah..." Mail grins at this, and takes the opportunity to test his luck. After all, Mello is at a disadvantage.

"You're agreeing now?" He asks amusedly while dipping his unoccupied hand to quietly undo the other's belt. "Really Mel, if I had known this was all it took for you to agree with me..." trailing off, the redhead slowly unzips the blonde's fly, aiming to be unnoticed. "Or maybe... You're just so desperate, such a whore, that you'll say anything, if it means you'll be rewarded with a dick up your ass." With that, Mail yanks the denim from the boy's hips, letting the thick material fall around the other's knees like shackles.

Mello is waiting until he can breathe again to start panting from excitement. He attempts to kick the jeans off his legs, but this proves difficult with the redhead currently straddling him; he runs the risk of kneeing him between the legs. And that is something Mello most definitely does not want to do; he's ganna be needing that equipment pretty soon. (Fuck, he wants it now, but he'll wait until he truly, physically needs it.) The blonde takes notice of how the boy atop him is just staring, and manages to raise a thin eyebrow in response.

"What?" he asks, and is little surprised at the sound of the strained syllable.

Mail says nothing, lowering one hand to undo his own jeans, and the other to the blonde's exposed member, gripping it tightly. He hears a sharp intake of breath, and knows Mello is trying to stay quiet, trying to keep a little of his pride in tact. Well, that simply will not do. Mail secures his grip and feels the hard member begin to pulsate in his hand. Leaning slowly to graze the blonde's earlobe with his teeth, he whispers deeply,
"I want you screaming."

And scream he does. Only a few seconds later has Mello nearly biting his lip off in an attempt to silence his already loud noises of pleasure, as his fully erect length is pumped vigorously, with an almost violent tempo. He's gasping and moaning, and making strange gurgling noises in the back of his throat, and the redhead is just grinning. Ear to ear, something malicious in his eyes, drinking in every sound the other makes. And yea, he's a gamer, and a lackey, and number fucking three. But hell, if this is what it gets him (gorgeous blonde all spread out under him and fucking whimpering for his touch) then it's all good. Its worth everything, and oh so much more.

"Mail! F-fuck! I-I...shit! I'm!..."

"Did I give you permission?" The redhead's tone is one of complete arrogance, and he slows the pace at which his hand is moving, just ever so slightly.

"W-what? I...ahh...I'm..."

"No. You're not. You wont." He all but snarls. "Not until I tell you to." Mello is attempting to glare at him, but the needy little noises he's making are currently waning his attention. And yea, he knows he's being a jerk, but good god is he enjoying it. The redhead can't remember the last time he was actually in charge of anything, let alone their intimate activities. It is clearly taking all of the blonde's self control not to buck into the other's warm hand, but he manages to restrain himself, for the moment at least.
"Good boy. You going to behave for me now?"

"Bite me," Mello snarls back. His patience is waning, and apparently the boy on top of him has some kind of death wish. But the retort is actually a request under these particular circumstances, and the blonde only remembers this as the other's smirk widens menacingly. "Tch. Bastard."

"And you're loving it." Mail gives a soft tug at the fleshy appendage in his hand. Said action is met with a hiss from the blonde, and an expression that clearly reads 'I-will-gut- you'. The redhead sighs, "Why so tense, love?" The sudden change in the other's voice catches Mello off guard.

"I'm not tense," he mumbles quietly, casting his eyes up to the ceiling. "I'm just..."

"Just what?"

"Let me fucking finish! Goddamn!" Mail nuzzles into the blonde's shoulder to stifle a chuckle and let him go on. When it seems he won't be interrupted again, Mello continues, "I just... Don't do this anymore, alright? You could've waited until I woke up at least..."

"Mmm, I guess I could have... But then you would have wanted to know where I was going, when I'd be back, all that nonsense." The redhead's hands slowly creep away from the blonde under him to his own jeans, slowly sliding them as far as they'll go with his current position. "You worry too much, Mello."

"I worry enough..." And for a moment, the blonde drifts into the confines of his thoughts. True, he would've questioned. He always questioned. If he didn't, he ran the risk of losing the only thing tethering him to sanity... He'd promised himself, the world would never get Matt, Mail...whoever. No, that boy belonged to Mello, and the world couldn't have him.

Mail smiles to himself, content to just sit there and watch Mello think. But his needs make themselves known again as he watches the blonde lick his lips in concentration. Oh yea, that's right, sex. Awesome. So, taking advantage of the moment, he quietly slips off his own jeans, careful as to not disturb the other's thought. Mello is just staring blankly, directly up at the popcorn ceiling, arms spread at his sides. Having not been noticed yet, the redhead quickly loses his shirt as well, and then crawls back atop the blonde, nuzzling his neck affectionately. His hands now grip the denim around the other's knees, and he slowly eases them the rest of the way off.

It's more the temperature than anything that jolts Mello out of his own mind. A second ago his legs had been uncomfortably warm, now they were rather chilled. A shock of red hair reminds him what's going on. He smiles, noticing the other had managed to strip the both of them in such a small window of time; the redhead always was good with his hands. "Maillll..." the blonde draws out the name in a singsong voice. He feels the other smile into his neck.

"Yes?" Mello growls at this, clearly annoyed. "Alright, alright, calm down Princess. I'll take care of you."

"Don't fucking call me that," the blonde spits at him, "I'm not a fucking girl."

"Oh, believe me Mels, I know." The redhead grabs the thin hips before him, jerking them upward and settling between the other's soft thighs. He takes a moment to let his eyes wander over his blonde prize and notices the look of surprise. "What?" Mello simply stares at the hands securing his hips in an iron hold.

"Aren't?... A-aren't you going to...?" Christ, Matt's never been this rough before (oh, that's right, this isn't Matt), and the blonde is sure he'll have all sorts of bruises in the morning, but that's of little concern at the moment. The thing weighing most heavily on his mind right now, is that fact that at least one of those hands is supposed to be stretching him... Mail catches on, but in the way the blonde would've hoped; he is met with a predatory grin.

"Not this time love." Before Mello can even think of a way out of this, his legs are wrenched apart and he's being forced into. And shit, it hurts. "Mello," the redhead grits out, still pushing his way into the lithe body beneath him, "C'mon, relax. Y-you -sss- know how this goes..." He feels himself get past a few rings of muscle, just as two hands come to cling at his hair, pulling at the roots.

"Shut up!" Mello screams in the other's ear. Because really, what right does he have to be ordering the blonde around, especially at a moment like this. "It f-fucking h-hurts, you idiot! God-d!" His eyes are closed, and Mello would rather not acknowledge the hiccup-like sound that just escaped his throat (some might call it a choked sob), because damn it, he can take this. He really can.

"Mel?" the redhead manages to get a decent look at the other, despite the death grip on his hair, and his stomach drops. Even with his eyes screwed shut, Mello can't hide the tears forming. Mail doesn't want to be the cause of that pain, but god, are people supposed to be that beautiful when they cry? "Mello," he whispers soothingly, having maneuvered his way out of the now weakening hold on his fiery locks, "calm down." The blonde opens his mouth to force out another snide remark, but is hushed with a gentle kiss.

The kisses continue, up his scarred shoulder, down his neck, both cheeks and his nose, over his collarbone, unceasing until Mello is relaxed enough for the other to pull partially out.

"Mail," its almost inaudible, "don't..."

"Don't what, Mel?" He already knows the answer and begins, much more gently this time, to enter. A soft groan reaches his ears, and he continues in until the room is full of gasps and moans from the blonde.

His first thrust is met with a loud call of his name, and he knows he's kept Mello waiting too long. Quickening his pace earns him more noises, and it doesn't take long for his thrusts to be met. Now this is the Mello he loves, the one that's too caught up in the moment to care about anything else; bucking uninhibited and shameless, clawing at the bed sheets and any skin he can reach.

"Mail! Faster! Harder!" Mello knows he's overacting, just e little bit, but he also knows it's what his partner wants to hear. "Fuck!" Oh, yes, he's forgotten how well the other could deliver when motivated enough. There's a creaking noise and then suddenly a banging. Mello is actually surprised it isn't his head hitting the wall, rather than the bed end, given how hard he's being pounded in to.

"Mello," the blonde feels hot breath on his neck just over the puncture wounds, and then the hand around his shaft sends his mind reeling, "c'mon Princess, let me hear you."

Arms wound tightly around the redhead's shoulders, Mello doesn't know whether to buck into the inviting warmth of Mail's hand, or raise his hips to meet the thrusts. But soon enough it doesn't matter, because he's screaming and moaning and kicking and bucking, and Mail is loving the sight. He loves it so much, he doesn't quite know what he's doing as he hoists the blonde up and shoves him backward, so that the thin frame is sandwiched between him and the wall. He grabs a fist full of yellow locks as he feels the other's legs wrap around his waist, and plants open mouthed kisses along the exposed jaw line.

"M-Mail!" the blonde whimpers, every muscle in his sculpted body tensing. The redhead smirks to himself; bringing Mello to the edge is always so satisfying.

"Mello, I don't think I gave you permission yet," he whispers huskily, speeding up his thrusts and the hand around the other's now profusely leaking member. He watches the blonde bite his lip, squirming helplessly as his body betrays his mind.

"Hnn Mail!... ahh I...I-I"

The redhead smirks again, before sinking his teeth back into the tender flesh of the blonde's neck, relishing in the loud cry of ," MAIL!" it earns him. But even more satisfying is the tightening around his length, and the faint sound of Mello's release splattering across his chest. The sight is enough to rip his orgasm out of him, filling the blonde with his essence. "Mello..."

After taking a moment to compose himself, the redhead gently pulls out, not missing the pleased groan that escapes his partner's lips. He smiles, a genuine smile, and repositions them both on the bed, laying Mello down.

"You're insane," the blonde mumbles, pulling something that might've once been a blanket up to cover them both and then burying his face in the other's chest, "fucking insane..."

"No more so than you, love."

...

The next morning would find Mello unable to function properly from a combination of blood loss and mind blowing sex. He'd question Mail, whose canines would be no more vicious looking than a rabbit's, and whose eyes would be so startlingly green it'd look almost unnatural. The crimson haired youth would ask what was up with the name thing, and weren't they supposed to be using their aliases 24/7. And for the next few days or so, Mello would wonder whether he really is insane, or just a very vivid dreamer.

That is, until he finds the bill from the cosmetic dentist, and the contact case stuffed under the mattress.

AN: It's finished! I'm sorry this last part took so long, I wasn't sure how to end it. Review? Here -gives keylime pie-
I'm in a good mood. And now that this is done, go read Dove! XD