Title: Viewfinder pilot
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: MelloMatt
Genre: general/romance
Type: one-shot (for now)
Rating: NC-17; you know what that means
Other Notes: Heavy sexual themes, bondage, kink, almost non-con, and some language
Disclaimer: Death Note does not belong to me, neither does the yaoi series Viewfinder.
Summary: Mail "Matt" Jeevas, a freelance photographer is hired by the NPA to capture the illustrious and mysterious gang leader Mello on camera but Matt may be getting more than he bargained for . . .

AN: I was actually saving this idea for L and Light but . . . I realized that Mello and Matt would fit just as well, if not better. Ergo, for now, this'll be like a pilot chapter; it will remain a one-shot until I decide (or when I have time, whichever comes first, haha) if I want to continue it. Besides, I should be working on my other (two) rather epic DN fics instead of this . . . Anyway, hope y'all enjoy.

Viewfinder (pilot)

Mello.

Nearly everyone knew the gang leader's name but no one--at least, none of the ones searching for him--knew his face. He was a mystery, a man who hid in the shadows and instilled fear in even the hardiest. If one were to say "I was done in by Mello" they would be given a sympathetic glance, a pat on the back and a half-hearted offer of help; there was nothing else that could be done.

The NPA had been after the man called Mello for years now but the only things that they were able to get their hands on were complicated codes, infiltrated data-bases on the NPA's part and, if they were lucky, a lackey or two of Mello's along with a few casualties along the way. But those who followed Mello never gave away their boss's position, his secrets; they were fervently loyal.

It frustrated the police force. They couldn't think of anything else to do. In a last ditch effort of finding Mello, they hired a young freelance photographer to capture the man on film. The NPA reasoned that they could at least use the picture as blackmail and maybe, hopefully, they would be able to control the gang leader and his forces.

Of course, despite having chased Mello for such a long time, the NPA was never quite able to predict the miscreants thoughts or actions. And the photographer, who got thrown into this mess against his will, wouldn't, couldn't have known, what was to happen when he agreed to take the job.

But let us start from the beginning.

It began with a phone call.

On the roof of a building, crouching in the shadow of the overhang, Mail "Matt" Jeevas waited for his prey to emerge from the warehouse, his SLR film camera poised and ready between the railings. He wasn't at a particularly good angle but the police chief had only specified that the picture had to be clear and his target's face discernible and, well, if they were willing to shell out that much money for a simple picture . . . hell, Matt would do the job in as little effort as possible to earn the dough. He was savvy at finding loopholes like that.

Looking down from his position to the warehouse opposite him where his quarry was supposedly hiding, he shifted a little to make himself a little more comfortable, taking a lazy drag from his cigarette. Two nights ago, the police chief had told him that they had received information from a semi-reliable source that Mello was to personally attend to a transaction right in Tokyo Bay. How exactly Mello was able to handle something so obviously illegal at such a public place was almost interesting enough for Matt to look into but he had decided against it. The new Halo game had taken priority over hacking into a gang's data base.

He sighed, fiddling with the lens a little. It had been over an hour with no signs whatsoever of movement within the warehouse or even in the shipyard. Matt wondered if the source Kurogawa had mentioned had lied. Actually, he wouldn't be at all surprised if he had; it would be quite a kick if the informant was under Mello's orders. If tonight really was a fluke . . . well, that was one night he wasted that could have been dedicated to gaming. Nonetheless, he glanced again at the firmly shut doors of the warehouse, he was already here so he might as well work. Or try to, at least.

Then the unexpected happened: The doors of the warehouse opened. Matt was so surprised, he nearly dropped his camera which would have completely defeated the purpose of his stake-out. And would have cost him five-hundred plus dollars to replace if he had broken it.

Not cool.

But Matt had a job to do. He pushed his goggles up so they rested against his forehead, threw the now burnt-out nicotine stick to the side, and carefully stretched himself out on his stomach, his lens still pointed towards the door of the warehouse. As a blond man clad in what Matt could only guess was leather stepped through the doors, he aimed and--

Click

Matt grinned, pulling the camera away from his face. "Gotcha."

He watched as two heavyset bodyguards flanked the blond and they all walked calmly towards the awaiting black sedan. Before the blond got in, he turned to his lackeys and spoke. Matt wondered for a second what was being said, but then the two guards and the man Matt assumed was Mello looked straight at Matt's hiding place. He froze. Did they know? But how?

Mello turned back to his two subordinates and nodded and the blond finally got into the car. Mentally, the usually unflappable redhead was starting to panic. He quickly decided that he ought to get out of the area fast before Mello and his underlings found and caught him. Not after he had taken such a good shot and earned a good deal of money. With that thought, he retreated further into the shadows and headed for the stairs. Once he reached the bottom, he poked his head out and glanced around, taking off when the coast was clear.

When Matt had run a few blocks, he slowed his pace and breathed a sigh of relief. He looked down at the camera in his hands; this all had better be worth it. Especially if Mello had known that someone had been watching him, Matt didn't think that he'd be safe anymore. He sighed and strode down the street, removing the roll of film from its confines. Maybe it was just a coincidence, Matt thought to himself, staring at the roll. Maybe it was luck.

He shoved the film into his jeans pocket and started for the train station, deciding that if he ha gotten this far, surely he would be okay. But despite this, he couldn't help but continue to turn thoughts over in his mind.

Maybe . . . ?

When Matt was walking to the precinct the following morning, he was suddenly accosted by half a dozen men in black suits. His eyes widened imperceptibly and his heart fluttered for a split second.

No way.

"Hey guys." He decided to play it cool. Perhaps they were just freaks who wanted to harass him over something or another.

"We believe you have something of importance to us," said the man in the middle, the one with the most foreboding aura. Okay, so maybe Matt should be a little worried; he wouldn't want to feel that guys fists.

"Oh?" he tilted his head to the side, an innocent, ignorant gesture. Internally, Matt was sizing up his opponents. There was no way he'd be able to beat these guys in a fight but he might be able to outrun them. So Matt took a small step back; the men didn't seem to notice. Then he bolted, before any of the zoot suits could react.

He had to get out of here, had to--

"Holy fuck." He skidded to a halt. Three more of the suited men were coming towards him from the other end of the street. That just settled it: it had to be Mello who was after him. How many freaking minions did this guy have?! Was the picture really that important?

Cursing eloquently, he shot out into the street, stopping cars and earning a few horn blasts in the process. "Sorry!" he called out, waving an apologetic hand over his shoulder.

He hadn't been wrong then, to assume that Mello had seen him on the roof of that building. But this seemed . . . overdramatic.

The redhead ran hard, his smoker lungs burning in agony. Fuck, if I survive this, I swear I'll cut down on my daily intake. As he raced through the city, he filtered through the maps in his head, trying to decide the best way to escape this predicament. Then on an impulsive decision, he turned and headed towards the Sumida River and Eitaibashi. If he played his cards right, maybe he'd make it out of this. But perhaps not the film.

He only had a moment to bemoan his wasted night when he reached Eitaibashi. Glancing behind him, he saw that there were only three men behind him; had he lost the others? He jogged a little ways across the bridge before he saw the rest of Mello's entourage a little ways in front of him.

Well. This was actually going a lot better than he thought.

Then a much too familiar black sedan pulled up to the curb.

Shit.

Out stepped a leather clad blond and when he reached up to remove his sunglasses, Matt's eyes met with piercing blue and the redhead was struck dumb. This was the infamous gang leader Mello? No friggin' way.

He was gorgeous. Wind-swept blond hair framed his face and despite the scar that covered half of it, his skin was otherwise porcelain-like. He was slightly taller than the redhead, thin and well built, and those eyes. God, those eyes. Matt couldn't help but stare a little in shock; he still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that this was Mello. Mello! The most wanted gang leader in Tokyo. No, in all of Japan. Even if he had snapped a picture of this man last night, he hadn't really seen him . . .

Wait, picture?

Oh. Right.

Dragging his mind out of the gutter, glad that his goggles hid his eyes and the shock he was sure it had mirrored. He retreated slowly, his back coming into contact with the railing of the bridge.

"You know what we're after," the blond said, and Matt had to suppress a shudder; even his voice was sensuous. No wonder all these men followed him without hesitation, with such loyalty: His whole person simply screamed "Listen to me or I will smite you". It almost made Matt want to listen to him, too.

But he steeled himself and mustered an impudent grin.

"You've nowhere left to run," added one of the men to Mello's right, taking a threatening step forward.

"That's what you think," he said, cockily. "But I've been in worse situations than this."

And quite suddenly, he turned around and vaulted himself over the railing. He braced himself for the impact, crossing his arms in front of his face. Then water engulfed him and a stinging pain shot through his arm. He swam his way awkwardly to the surface and took a breath; looking up, he saw the men he left behind on the bridge staring down at him. Most of them stared in shock but he had an inkling that Mello remained emotionless. Nevertheless, he stuck his tongue out childishly and gave them the finger as he floated towards the bank.

Matt, however, didn't notice Mello turn to his subordinates to call off the chase, nor could he see the smirk that graced the blond's lips. "Interesting," was what he said, "I didn't think he had it in him."

"I told you already! The film was ruined 'cause I jumped off Eitaibashi to get away from his cronies."

Kurogawa scowled at him. "Did you see Mello? Can you at least describe him to me?"

Matt hesitated for a split second before saying, "I can only say that he was a blond," he lied smoothly. "That's all." The older man still glared at him suspiciously but Matt kept his ignorant facade and Kurogawa finally relented.

"Fine. There might be another opportunity tonight so go rest up."

"Tonight?" Matt whined.

"Yes, tonight," Kurogawa snapped. "Otherwise you'll get half of what I offered."

"All right, all right!" Matt held his hands up in surrender. "Tonight, then. Same place?"

Kurogawa nodded. "In the shipyard, but warehouse thirteen this time."

Matt nodded in understanding and ran his fingers through his still damp hair. Deciding that he ought to start heading home to pick up his camera before going to Tokyo Bay, he exited Kurogawa's office and left the precinct in a rather sulky mood. First he was chased by Mello's lackeys, then he jumped of a freakin' bridge and as expected, his film had been ruined. When he told Kurogawa what had happened, he refused to pay Matt a cent because he didn't really complete the job. Now he had to go on another goose chase. Matt frowned; another night wasted.

And so Matt was once again on the roof of a building but this time adjacent to warehouse thirteen. He adjusted his goggles and took a drag of his cigarette, eager to get this over with. If Mello really showed up again tonight, Matt vaguely wondered if the blond would know Matt was there, watching. It was kind of creepy when he thought about it.

Then he remembered that earlier in the day, he had withheld information from Kurogawa. He didn't really know why he lied about not being able to describe Mello; something about the blond made Matt . . . feel. Just feel. It was strange.

Looking through his viewfinder and fiddling with the lens, Matt spotted a lone man standing in the lot in front of the warehouse. Frowning, he zoomed in closer and gasped: It was Mello. And he was looking right at him, a triumphant smirk on his lips.

Matt was suddenly grabbed from behind and he knew no more.

Splash.

He groaned, flinching when the wetness dripped from his face down to his neck, his chest.

"Ah, so you're awake now."

That voice . . . Matt gasped, his eyes snapping open and almost immediately regretted it. He was on a lavish bed, stripped of all his clothing save for his goggles which dangled around his neck and his wrists were bound and pulled above his head. His calves were secured to his thighs, forcing his legs to spread, his crotch laid bare. The cords that tied him down were attached to the bedposts and he couldn't have moved even if he wanted to.

"What the hell is this?" he blurted out before he could stop himself.

But the blond ignored him. "Mail Jeevas," he said, and Matt couldn't help but shiver when his name passed those lips, "otherwise known as Matt." Mello strode forward until he was standing right in front of the bed and Matt saw that he was toying with the roll of film that had been in his camera. "Correct?"

Despite his predicament, Matt scowled, "That's none of your fucking business."

The blond smiled. "But it is. You see, I have a feeling that you will be quit a nuisance if I leave you alone, especially because of what happened the other day." Matt opened his mouth to protest but Mello cut him off, "I am aware that your film from two days ago has been ruined and therefore unable to be developed but nevertheless . . ." He suddenly pushed one of Matt's legs forward so his whole body shifted, making his asshole visible and Mello stared unabashedly. "Some punishment is in order."

Matt blushed, "what the hell, stop staring!" And he tried to move away but it was fruitless; he was bound tight. Mello smiled again, amused at Matt's attempt to escape. He reached up and took off his sunglasses--who the hell wears sunglasses indoors, anyway?--and pulled out a small flip-top bottle from his pocket.

"Shall we begin?" He forcibly covered Matt's mouth and flicked open the catch and brought it close to the redhead's nose. Matt could do nothing but inhale the contents within the bottle and he realized a few seconds later that it was an aphrodisiac. Fuck. He could already feel himself getting aroused, heat pooling rapidly to his crotch. This can't be happening.

"You know, I really didn't think you'd jump," he said conversationally, pulling the bottle and his hand away. "But because you did, and it was something I didn't anticipate, you interested me. Hence why you are here right now."

Gods, it was so hot. . . He couldn't control himself; it was too much. He saw Mello run his blue eyes down his body and rested on his apparent erection. Embarrassed, he tried to scoot away but the binds saw to it that he didn't move.

"Of course, that's not the only reason." And he reached out and firmly gripped Matt's cock with a gloved hand and Matt let out a choked cry.

"Don't--" he said half-heartedly.

Mello tsked. "What's this, you're already hard." He leaned forward and whispered in Matt's ear, "slut."

He started to pump his arousal hard and fast and Matt gasped in shocked pleasure, in embarrassment. "Nngh! Sto--! Don't!" He threw his head back and moaned loudly, panting hard.

Mello released him and instead pulled out a cock ring from the side dresser. This bastard planned this, didn't he! Without preamble, the blond snapped the ring around Matt's arousal, effectively curtailing his ability to cum. "You . . . bastard," he managed to say through his haze of lust. Matt turned away, not wanting to see the humiliating state his body was in.

But Mello didn't allow Matt his decency. "Don't do that," he said, forcing Matt's chin up so he stared into those piercing blue eyes. Then Mello leaned down and kissed him full on the lips. The heat of his body skyrocketed and Matt moaned into Mello's mouth as the gang leader plunged his tongue into his orifice. One of Mello's hand held Matt's head firmly in place while the other trailed down the redhead's back, finally finding his puckered entrance. Before Matt realized what was happening, Mello pushed two fingers into him and Matt tried to jerk away but his bonds and Mello's firm grip kept him where he was.

Mello broke the kiss and Matt panted his need loudly as the blond continued to stretch his hole. When Mello pulled his fingers away, the redhead couldn't help but let out a whimper.

"You want something in your ass, don't you, you slut," Mello growled lowly as he ruthlessly pulled at his arousal. Matt groaned in both pain and pleasure.

"Stop," he panted, "I don't--"

"You don't?" Mello asked playfully, running his gloved fingers up and down his erection. "Your body is telling me otherwise, Matt."

"N-no . . ."

Mello hummed thoughtfully and took a step back and pulled something else from the side dresser. What the hell else did he hide in there?!

It was a vibrator, and Mello slowly eased it into him. Matt moaned, keened, and whimpered at the same time. "Y'know, I really like your eyes," Mello said, as if commenting on the weather. "Which makes me wonder why you wear these ridiculous goggles." The toy was now fully sheathed and with his other hand, Mello flicked at the eyewear still hanging around the redhead's neck.

"I-" Matt started haltingly, unable to fully concentrate with the tip of the vibrator barely brushing his sweet spot, "could ask you the . . . same question."

Mello chuckled, "this is true. But I wear sunglasses only to hide my face. I'm a wanted criminal, you know." He grinned at his own joke. "And as I see it," he leaned in again, studying Matt's flushed face, "You have nothing you ought to hide."

Matt furrowed his brow, wondering if he ought to take that as a compliment.

"Are you afraid to see the world as it is? Because if you don't, you'll never make it in life."

"F-fuck you."

This time, Mello laughed outright. "You have a lot of guts kid, I admire that."

Kid? He looked no older than him! Who the hell was he calling 'kid'?!

"But even so . . ." Mello suddenly thrust the vibrator deeper into Matt's ass, earning him a guttural cry. "It won't get you far," he purred.

"Ah! Nnngh, sto-stop!"

And quite surprisingly, it did. Mello pulled the toy completely out of him before getting on the bed with Matt. He nibbled at the photographer's ear. "Here, let me hold you," he said sensuously, and Matt shivered. Mello pulled him up so he was practically sitting on his lap; he hadn't even realized that his legs were no longer bound, neither did he notice that Mello unlaced the front of his leather pants. Only when something much larger nudged at his entrance did Matt's eyes fly open. Oh Gods, no.

Mello pushed in. Matt wanted to scream but the aphrodisiac was making want more, Gods, he wanted more. But he still protested verbally. "No, it's too big! Sto-stop!"

But Mello ignored him and continued his intrusion until he was completely sheathed. Matt groaned at the sensation of being filled, Mello's cock rubbing enticingly against his prostate. "Look, right to the hilt," Mello breathed on Matt's neck, making him shiver.

And before he knew it, Mello was thrusting into him. He was panting and moaning wantonly, unable to hold any of the noises back. With a flick of his wrist, Mello undid the straps binding Matt's hands and pushed him headfirst into the bed, lifting his rear into the air for easier access. Mello pounded into him mercilessly and Matt was turned into a quivering wreck; the pleasure was overwhelming but the humiliation of being taken by this man settled firmly at the back of his mind.

How could this happen?

"Don't forget this, Matt," he said as his thrusts became deeper and more forceful. "The pain nor the pleasure."

"Ah! Fuc-nngh! I-I'm gonna--!"

Mello's hand wrapped around to grip his cock, releasing the ring from the base. "Say my name, Mail."

His name on the blond's lips was the trigger that set him off and he came hard.

And he screamed Mello's name before everything went black.

He had been missing for three days and the NPA was relieved when he showed up again at the precinct.

"Are you all right?" they all would ask, as if they knew that Mello had kidnapped him. They probably did; who else could it have been?

He also discovered that Kurogawa had been fired; apparently he had been working secretly with another yakuza group who was a major adversary of Mello's and had used Matt so he could rise up in the ranks. Matt was shocked at this when the new police chief Yagami Souichirou introduced himself and told him what had happened. Yagami had given him the money Kurogawa had promised in an apology and Matt was allowed to go on his way, to continue to take pictures of what he wished. He had also told Matt that if he needed anything, to not hesitate to ask.

So Matt was left to his own devices again.

But then Kurogawa tracked him down.

"You took away my glory, you brat," he hissed, a pistol aimed at the redhead's forehead.

"Wh-I didn't--"

Kurogawa squeezed the trigger and Matt clenched his eyes shut in anticipation for the bullet. But when the gunshot went off, he didn't feel any pain. He cautiously opened his eyes and saw . . .

Mello.

The blond stood in front of him, a beretta pointing towards the wounded Kurogawa.

"Mello?" he asked in shock.

"I just bought out your gang, Kurogawa. So I am now your superior. Either except it or I can end it here."

His voice was so cold, so detached . . . Was this really the same man that teased him senselessly only a few nights before?

Kurogawa scowled, holding his wounded shoulder and turned and fled. Mello lowered the gun and Matt saw those same dark suited men already chasing after the former police chief. He wondered vaguely what was going to happen to him. But his thought process was cut off with the call of his name.

"Didn't I tell you that you have to see the world as it is? People like that use people like you much too easily."

Matt glared, "Don't give me that bullshit. You use people just as much as him."

Mello met Matt's eyes squarely, "Maybe so, but I am not such a coward."

"Don't think I'll stop doing my job," Matt said.

The leather-clad blond smirked, "Is that a challenge?"

He tilted his chin upwards, "Maybe it is," he said defiantly.

Mello chuckled, "Then, I look forward to it." He started to walk away, tucking his gun down the front of his pants, "Perhaps I won't mind being in your viewfinder."

Matt growled and looked away. "Jackass," he muttered under his breath.

AN: Done! I'm not quite happy with how it turned out but this is just the pilot chapter so I can always edit and re-post, lol!

For those of you who have read Viewfinder by Yamane Ayano-sensei . . . well, how was this rendition of her manga? XD I must say, though, that she's great. And I love her art. Yes, I am a pervert, nyah.

But anyway, if I do continue this, I will probably be changing a few plot points and what not. I'll try and keep it interesting, though.

In any case! Please review. They make me happy. =) Please and thank you!

PS: I did indeed make an OC but only because I couldn't see any of the already existing DN police characters 'betraying' Matt. Ergo . . .