A/N: Okay so this is my first song fic, sorta, I don't even know if I can call it that because I probably didn't do it properly but whatever! Basically, this fic is based off the song Scream by Avenged Sevenfold so you might want to listen to that before reading this. But yeah, I kinda thought that the song suited Mello a little bit so I went with it. Enjoy!

-Carter

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or Avenged Sevenfold music.

Genre: Romance/Horror

Rating: M

Characters: MelloxMatt

POV: Matt

Mello loves the sound of a scream. That's one of the main reasons he joined the mafia in the first place, to have power. Be top of the world. Be number one. To make those around him scream.

He loves it when one of his men are absolutely terrified. Down on their knees, begging for their pathetic lives to be spared. He towers over them; shiny, metal pistol pointed directly between the eyes. He stares them down, with his ice cold gaze burning into their very soul. Waiting. For them to break. For the tears to come streaming and their throats to open up and unleash the one sound that is like ecstasy to his ears.

He scares people. That's why he actually loves that scar of his. He uses it to intimidate people and sometimes, he'll take it so far that they'll be trembling before him, staring with wide, teary eyes. I bet Mello can even smell the fear sometimes.

But it's not only the way he looks, he is a genius, and he knows how to use his brains. He likes to manipulate people. He will ravage your mind until you get a nosebleed. Until the only thing left that you can do is scream. And hope your breath holds out long enough to give a nice, satisfying sound, good enough that maybe, just maybe, he'll spare you this time.

Now, just don't try to fake it to cheat him out of killing you, because he will know. And he will be pissed. I don't really know what it is, but he can tell when someone is screaming just for the hell of it, or screaming out of pure terror or pain.

Sometimes when he's bored, he'll even shoot an underling of his in the leg just to hear the sweet screams of pain.

I have a very high pain tolerance. I developed this over the many nights Mello, and for some fucked up reason, the love of my life, comes home to our shitty apartment from the mafia headquarters. He's done everything, from slam me so hard against a wall that I can't breath, to using a cockring to block my orgasm until it's so painful that I do scream.

He's strapped me to the bed and glided a knife down my body. Sucking at the cuts, practically drinking my blood. And let me tell you, I sure as hell screamed like a little bitch when he cut my balls with that thing.

He's taken whips and tied me down on my hands and knees and whipped my back and ass until I screamed bloody murder.

He likes to take me dry. Bend me over and thrust his cock so deep in me, I bleed. And scream. And he thrusts, violently, digging his nails into my hips to pull me closer to him. Biting me deep, breaking skin and shedding blood. He ravages my body. But he pumps my erection and somehow, I manage to orgasm just as strongly as he does, after I scream his name and my knees buckle in pure pleasure, my body tensing around him, bringing him up to cloud nine right along with me.

While Mello will do almost anything to get a pure scream out of anyone, including the one person he loves more than anything, he doesn't feel bad. And he turns around and bruises me, and scars me with scratches and bite marks and any other form of torture that his brilliant mind can come up with.

But the truth is, I love it. I love every torturing, painful second with the psychopath I call my boyfriend. Maybe I'm a masochist. Maybe I'm just so in love with that crazy mother fucker that I just can't feel anything right anymore.

Who knows, really, but what I do know, is that the following day, when I wake up and he's already left for the base and I read the note he's left me, telling me he loves me and he loved my screams the night before, and feel my cheek tingle at the thought of the kiss I know he placed there before he left, I miss him.

And when I finally get up from bed, feeling the bruises throb and the cuts sting, and I go to the bathroom to take a shower and I stare in the mirror at my bare reflection and see every little mark Mello has left on my body, I know I can't wait for him to come back home.

Because the marks will heal soon. And I hate that. I love the marks he leaves on my body because it's like he's claiming me as his own all over again, like an animal. And the pain is just a reminder.

Mello loves the sound of a scream. And I love the way he knows how to make me scream.

Scream, Scream, Scream the way you would

if I ravaged your body

Scream, Scream, Scream the way you would

if I ravaged your mind