Fic post

[darkluna]

I know it's probably poor form to de-anon, but I think all my friends knew I was tackling this kink meme prompt anyway. Oh, ha, it's actually allowed! :D

I of course spotted a typo as soon as I posted, I can't fix it there, and I'm anal-retentive. (And if Mello/Matt written in present tense with a genderswitch and lots of semicolons doesn't scream "elliefic," I don't know what does, hee.)


The prompt was:

Mello/girl!Matt

Unexpected survival, Mello and Matt survive the Takada job somehow and take a night to relax together after it. Lots of drinking, either one or both being very drunk, resulting in sex.

Rough!sex, relief, biting, bondage, sex over a table, in a public place... all or some of these would be great!

[Notes: I think I hit everything you wanted, and have some dirty talk as a bonus. :-) I also feel obligated to say generally: unsafe sex ahead; don't try this at home!]

Alive

He wasn't supposed to live.

They had his name, he knew they did, and he was supposed to die in one last "fuck you, I win" to Near and everyone. He waited in the cab of the truck, counting the seconds he had left by his best guess: thirty-nine, forty.

Nothing.

Mello's alive and he doesn't know what to do with himself, which might be why he's here in the back room of a restaurant that looks cheap but isn't, knocking back sake after sake with Matt.

---

Matt reached the church in time to see it go up in flames, and she and Mello stood under the dubious cover of the trees and watched, close enough to touch, but in their own separate worlds.

"My car," Matt said, eventually. "I had to ditch my fucking car."

And Mello laughed, because that was so Matt. He knew what she was doing: trying to anchor him back to earth with small, even stupid, concerns. "I'll buy you a new one."

They changed hotel rooms. Mello didn't want to contact Near, or even Hal, but he didn't want to leave Japan on the first flight either—too much like running away. He thought Matt understood. She was subdued, even for her. Her GameBoy sat silent on the bed, and she leaned out the window and chain-smoked. Mello took a shower and stood for a long time under scalding water that didn't begin to wash away the scent of ashes.

When he went back out, Matt turned away from the window and gave the impression of squaring her shoulders without actually doing so. "We could've died," she said.

Mello just looked at her.

"No, look, Mello. We could've, and we didn't, and fuck, I know you meant to—"

"How?"

"How long have I known you?" There was something strangely gentle in her voice.

"You didn't try to stop me."

"I wasn't gonna start an argument I knew I'd lose, and fuck up the little time we had left." She tossed the cigarette out the window. "You're my best friend."

"Matty?" The thank you was in how softly he said it.

"Mm?"

"Let's go get loaded."

---

Matt lights another of those awful Japanese cigarettes and eyes the cucumber slices with suspicion.

"It's for the sake," Mello says, and Matt grins and puts her tongue out. As she gets sillier, he finds his melancholy starting to slough away. She alternates bites and puffs, eating sushi with her fingers, licking soy sauce and wasabi off them. Mello props his chin on his hand and watches.

"'m too tipsy for chopsticks," Matt explains.

"One more round." He's feeling it too, the lights starting to get fuzzy, his thoughts scattering, chasing each other. "Can't waste the cucumbers."

Matt took her goggles off a while ago, and her eyes look very blue as she peers at the cloudy sake. "It's like grass. And fog. In a bottle."

"Heh. Less bad poetry, more pouring."

She fills his cup, and he fills hers—Mello abides by the customs he thinks are interesting or amusing—and Matt holds up a finger that wobbles a little to keep him from downing it immediately. "Here's to saving the world."

"To saving the world," he echoes, hollowly, and drains the cup and eats a slice of cucumber.

"Mello. What the hell's wrong?"

He's exactly drunk enough that the question on his mind just... spills out. "Why? Why're we alive?"

"Because..." She frowns, then brightens with almost comic suddenness. "Because we weren't done!"

"I was."

"No. Nonono. I need you to not be done. Okay?" She's staring at him, hopeful and trusting, like Mello has all the answers and always will.

"You need me?"

"Always needed you."

Mello's pretty sure she'd admit it that easily even sober. And I was ready to leave her behind. She would've cried. "Matty..." The rush of relief that he didn't make her cry—that he would have, and maybe the universe knew better, for once—seems to carry him across the distance between them. He kisses her, more awkwardly than he means to, off-center and sloppy. Matt tumbles into his arms with that crazy cockeyed grace she sometimes has. She tips her head, flicks her tongue out shyly. She tastes like ginger and heat, spring and mist, and Mello would laugh at himself for thinking that if he weren't so busy trying to learn her mouth.

Matt sets her hands on his thighs and kneels up so she's above him, so her hair tickles his face as her kisses get skittery and breathless. That's good, but it seems like an even better idea to take her by the waist, sweep a space clear with a clatter of trays and chopsticks, and lift her onto the table.

"Mello!" Breathy, giggly, not really a protest, but he pulls back.

"You mind?"

"You have to ask?"

"Thought I'd make sure." He bends to her neck, to that soft warm curve into her shoulder, and bites down. Matt tips her head to the side and murmurs nonsense; all Mello catches is his name. "You don't mind that, mm?"

She laughs. "What're you—"

How far will she let me go? Mello wonders. Matt's panting softly, and he's dizzy with heat already. He nips at her shoulder, her collarbone, reaches for the hem of her shirt. "Okay?"

"Here?" He knows her more than well enough to know that note in her voice: surprise at her own daring.

"Here."

"It's okay," she whispers, then giggles. "More than okay, Mello."

He pulls the shirt up; she's not wearing a bra, but she doesn't need one, skinny as she is. He can see the shadows of her ribs, and can that pale skin really be as soft as it looks? She's looking up at him with alcohol and arousal staining her cheeks pink, with that familiar expression, the one that means "Anything you want, Mello," and suddenly the implications of that, here and now, are like a kick of heat straight down his spine to his cock. He bends and fits his mouth over her nipple, curls his hand around her breast—yes, her skin's as soft as it looks; softer, even. This is gentler than he's been with anyone, maybe, but his head's swimming with sake, and it's Matt, after all.

But her hands go instantly to his hair and clutch tight, and she lifts her head and whispers, "Rougher."

He glances up at her without disengaging. Their eyes lock and he sucks, hard, then puts teeth into it. Matt throws her head back, and Mello doesn't need to speak her language to know what her moan means. He teases and pinches, licks and bites, until she's writhing.

Her jeans are loose enough that he can flatten his hand against her stomach, slide it under the denim, under the cotton, tangle his fingertips into those soft curls. Matt gasps and lifts her hips into his touch, and Mello grins a slow grin and leans to her ear, licks at it before he murmurs, "What d'you want?"

"More."

He works his hand in farther, slips a finger into the heat of her. "Christ, Matty, you're soaking."

She squirms and breathes out, "Come on."

Mello doesn't move. "Not yet. Tell me."

"I can't, I really can't." It's a needy whimper as she reaches for him.

"No." He gets his hand free and takes both of hers. "You want it my way, don't you?"

She blinks up at him, then nods.

The belt's coming off sooner or later anyway; Mello tugs it from the loops, wraps it around Matt's wrists, and lifts her arms over her head. There's nothing to secure it to, but he knows she'll stay put.

"Oh," she says, wide-eyed, looking at him with sharpened intensity.

He leans over her and whispers against her neck. He's past caring about being quiet, but he likes how his breath makes her shiver. "So." He trails a hand down the center of her chest, letting his nails drag. "You want my hand? My fingers inside you, my thumb on your clit?" He traces the outline of her hip, marveling at how small her bones are. "Or d'you want my mouth?" Nuzzling into her neck now, inhaling deeply. "Mm, I can taste you already."

Matt whimpers and mouths something that looks a lot like "Please."

"Or. D'you want me to fuck you?"

"Oh, God, all of it."

"No time for all of it." But there's time for some, if not to bother with her boots. He unfastens her jeans and tugs them down halfway, looks up in time to see Matt flex her hands restlessly around the belt.

If Mello weren't drunk, he probably wouldn't say it, and he definitely wouldn't flush. "You're so fuckin' gorgeous."

He moves to between her knees, mouths at the hollow where her hipbone curves down to her stomach, shifts to kiss and bite her inner thigh. She's trembling, but she hasn't moved her arms. He parts her folds gently, but he flicks his tongue at her clit hard. Matt shivers as if shocked and gasps, "Fuck yeah, like that."

He licks into her and has to moan; she's salty and slick and delicious. Matt shudders and makes a noise like a strangled scream, and Mello has a wicked impulse to see how fast and hard he can make her come right this minute. Would someone open the door to investigate, or did their money ensure privacy? That's all the thought he spares for it. He settles in for now, sucking and nibbling at her. Her musky scent is heady, and his pants are starting to feel unbearably tight. He fumbles the laces open one-handed.

Matt lifts her head and looks at him hungrily. "Ohh, I wanna touch you."

He presses one last kiss between her legs and moves up over her. "Later." With a grin, he wraps one hand around her wrists, catching her just as she starts to raise her arms, holding her down. Matt squirms. Mello knows she doesn't really mean to get away, but he holds her tighter, and she whimpers with pleasure.

He positions himself and drives into her with one motion. Matt arches up to meet him, and Mello has to hold still for a moment, savoring the feel of her, letting his head hang forward. Matt turns her head and their mouths meet in a clumsy, gasping kiss. Mello doesn't move for another long moment, drawing out the tension. Then he pulls almost all the way out and slams back in, and Matt does cry out at that. There's half a second where Mello almost laughs, imagining getting caught, but then he hisses "Shh," and does it again.

"More," Matt says. "Oh god, more." She's pinned and she can't move her legs much, but she rocks her hips up, presses closer. Mello's breath leaves him in a shuddering moan.

Faster, the lights sparkles now at the edge of his vision. Mello whispers drunken endearments and encouragement. "Matty... you feel amazing..." She croons a little half-moan to each, twists her hands to dig her nails into his wrist, and the sting just kicks the heat higher. He's suddenly shockingly close to the edge, but he'll be damned if he isn't going to send Matt over it first. He gets his free hand between them and Matt arches up at once, her eyes going wide. "Fuck, you're gonna make me—"

That's the idea, Mello would say if he could catch his breath, but Matt's shaking and biting her lower lip to keep from getting too loud, and when he feels her start to come, he's right there with her, any thought of gentleness long forgotten. The room seems to spin and right itself. He thinks that's Matt going to his head more than the booze, and then he can't think at all; he shudders into her, as close as he's ever been to losing himself in someone else.

When Mello can breathe again, when Matt's shivered out the last of her aftershocks, he pulls the belt from around her wrists, and she wraps her arms around him and hangs on tight. He wonders fleetingly why they've never done this before—you can't have a best friend as hot as Matt and never notice.

But it wouldn't have been like this, wouldn't have anchored him back to earth. He brushes a sweaty strand of hair out of Matt's face and grins crookedly at her. "Wouldn’t do to get arrested for lewd and lascivious after everything else. Let's get dressed and finish that sake."

Comments

[darkluna.livejournal.com]

Ha, that icon! I'm glad you liked it - thanks so much! :'D

I might have cast an eye over the unfulfilled requests to see if there was anything else I felt like trying.