
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6146746.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      DeathNote, Death_Note, Death_Note_&_Related_Fandoms
  Relationship:
      Matt/Mello
  Character:
      Matt_|_Mail_Jeevas, Mello_|_Mihael_Keehl
  Additional Tags:
      Morning_Sex, Intense_Matt, Matt_Tops, Exploration, Loud_Mello,
      Intercrural_Sex, Back_rubs_get_frisky, Morning_Star, Slash, Smut, Plot
      What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Shameless_Smut
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-03-02 Words: 4120
****** Bask ******
by Mikanis_(Coagvla)
Summary
     The hair splayed across his cheek picked up the sunlight and held it
     too, until they were tendrils of warmth touching him more delicately
     than Matt ever could. It was quiet.
     The brush of his fingers around the line of his hip made it
     complicated. “…boys shouldn’t be this fucking pretty, Mello…”
Notes
     Oh hey, guys, it's Mikanis. >> I was on FFNet back in 2007, and kept
     writing until 2012 or so. I'm trying to move my old fics over and
     polish them up, but a six year writer's block is six year writer's
     block. Frankly, I'm not sure I can write in that voice anymore. My
     style has grown and changed, etc.
     This is unbeta'ed. A bit of fun with the golden boys, our favorite
     delinquents, circa 2012. Never before posted because I was weird
     about smut back then. Meh. Here you are, Step Lightly.
     P.S. Yes, they're underage, yes, it's consensual, no...no, I don't
     really care. Yep. Have fun.
There were hands upon his shoulders, bright, easy spots of warmth that were
just a touch cooler than the sunlight through the window, but they’d warm soon
enough. Mello woke, but the warmth forbade him to get up, and instead he simply
shifted to brush the hair from his eyes and look at the spark of crimson in his
peripheral vision. Matt pushed his head back down, knocking the blond back into
his eyes, and fine, he didn’t want to be looked at this morning. Matt had odd
moods, sometimes, but as of yet, it hadn’t become annoying enough to mention.
Mello rested back against the pillow and tucked his chin, feeling the hacker
ease onto the bed with him bringing the scent of smoke and chocolate with him,
something that deepened the curl of the young detective’s lips. Yeah, he’d
better pay up, if he expected to touch. He didn’t make the remark out loud, and
the hand left his skin long enough to put a half-gone cigarette on the metal
frame of his window sill, where it could burn out without doing any damage.
Something fell in the motion, a bit of ash and ember from the tip and it
felt…hot, it burned him just at the inset of his shoulder blade. Mello moved to
sit up again, but the hacker raked his fingers across it, crushing the fire out
and leaving a dark streak of ash down the line of his spine. Mello was fully in
his own mind now, attempted to sit up with some protest on his lips and that
hand returned to put him down again, a bit more roughly. Those smooth fingers
then found the tension in his frame next, the stiffness in the curve of his
throat, something he hadn’t noticed until he pointed it out. He forced himself
to let it go, because his hands felt like silk, and that was apology enough for
him…Matt wanted to touch him, that stroke said. The young detective found the
pillow and sunk a bit deeper into its cotton, closing his eyes to the sunlight
and the red warmth of it. He listened, but there was nothing but the steady
sound of Matt’s breathing above him, and the gentle hiss of their skin sliding
against each other with every stroke. It was good, and simple, those hands
roaming from the base of his spine back up and curling just far enough over his
arms to make him shiver. They warmed, through friction, through the virtue of
his heart paying attention, they drifted closer and closer to the radiant haze
he’d awoken to and blended with it, until nothing but knowing that it was Matt
made the distinction. He dozed in and out for a bit, a few minutes at least,
because Matt grew irritated with being ignored and woke him with a burning line
of his thumbnail through the ashes.

He lifted his head without thinking, and Matt restated the rules with a bit
more force this time, slipping those fingers into his hair and pressing him
back, holding him there for a second before letting him go. Mello held his
breath, closed his eyes, because he wanted to see that expression, the dark
emerald in his eyes, but Matt didn’t want to allow it this time. He counted the
minutes, breaths marking them at a steady pace as the touch became routine
again, fingers and palms petting the line of his side and throat, begging his
attention and giving him nothing to show for it. Mello could feel him, sense
him even with his eyes closed, with the way the mattress dipped under his knees
to betray his location. He knew if he turned his head, there would be a candy
bar or something a few inches away, but the hacker wouldn’t let him have it
yet. The hair splayed across his cheek picked up the sunlight and held it too,
until they were tendrils of warmth touching him more delicately than Matt ever
could. It was quiet.

The brush of his fingers around the line of his hip made it complicated. Mello
opened his eyes, stared out his window at the sparse few branches of the tree
in the courtyard he could see from here, and tried not to tense. That touch
would turn wicked, wonderful, if he let it, but he wasn’t sure if…those touches
were such a good thing. It was hard to keep his breath from shivering, but the
hand continued without disturbing the fabric yet, sliding down the line of his
thigh and back up, tracing the curve of his ass with his thumb in passing. That
made his breath catch, God, made him want to look, but if he pushed too hard,
Matt might talk himself out of it and drag him out of bed. He was…curious, now
that they’d begun this, and it was hard to keep up with the hacker when there
was a certain measure of guilt being bantered between them. This was trouble,
no matter how it ended, or if they were ever caught. It was addictive.

“God, Mello.” The sound of his voice surprised him, stopped his heart in it
tracks because they must have shared the thought to some degree, but this was
Matt. It was just Matt, pushing at his skin with a beautiful measure of
control, sinking deep to wake the nerves along his bones. He shivered,
following those hands up with every fiber of his being, the tension sweetening
sharply enough that he wanted to lean up into it, and his fingers tightened at
last on the corner of the pillow and the loose blankets beneath his fist. “I
want to touch you.”

If it was a question, Mello didn’t hear it, just tilted his head to follow that
stroke up along his throat to have his ear brushed just, so, with the pad of
his fingers. It made him blush, God, made him want to hide, and that’s why he’d
said it, to shame him further into the fabric to keep him from looking. It
worked, as he turned his cheek deeper and inhaled the scent of the morning and
his own skin. It was a dulcet musk on his blankets, something that Matt had
mentioned in passing that he’d never noticed until now. Those hands, fuck,
those hands moved lower again, brushing circles over his back to lull him into
complacency, and it almost worked, if they hadn’t moved the fabric of his night
clothes five seconds later. Matt was teasing, had to be, to keep stilling his
world completely in these few seconds of quiet, but the hacker skimmed them
down his legs, leaving them around his ankles, and the warmth of the sunlight
touched him everywhere now. It was trapped in the blankets below him, pressed
faintly across his hips, and he hadn’t noticed how tight he was getting, the
low heat simmering in his belly that spoke of how drunk he was. He swallowed,
and there was nothing for a minute…a long minute, long enough that he caught
himself curling inwards just slightly, because it wasn’t fair that Matt got to
look. The scent of smoke moved as the hacker reclaimed his cigarette for a
second and then curled low across his spine, up, up the line of his back and
when Mello peeked from the pillow again, he could see it drifting in tendrils
towards the headboard, as live and viable as the first touch had been, and his
knuckles whitened in their respective holds. He wanted to say something, but
the sound in his throat was not a word or even a semblance of it, so he stifled
it.

Until a moment later, at least, when Matt swung a leg over the long line of his
legs and settled his weight there, pinning him. Those hands returned a second
later, one drifting into his peripheral vision to put the cigarette down again
and the other bracing itself at the edge of his ribcage. Matt leaned forward,
putting his weight there until the other joined it, and Mello could still
breathe, but God, his mind jumped to make him work for it, shivers racking his
frame when that voice crawled into his ear again, stained with the smoke.
“…boys shouldn’t be this fucking pretty, Mello…”

He curled in on himself, turning his head to the side because he wanted
something, a glimpse, anything, but Matt was sitting back on his heels now,
dragging his palms hard down their paths, and it was hardly therapeutic. He
traced them in his mind’s eye, every nerve lit to a clarity he shouldn’t have
possessed for not being allowed to look…or perhaps because of it, but oh, God,
they didn’t skirt the issue, they touched him, continuing over that line he’d
drawn so often before to cup the firm globes of flesh and pause there for just
a breath before moving on. “Ngh…”

That was him, he’d felt that sound on his tongue, and he wished it would die,
because he heard Matt breathe a chuckle behind him, hands slipping to grip his
hips and just hold him, long enough to put the thought in his head, because
fuck, it was an erotic image that he was being denied, grounded to the damn
pillow while the sky got to watch everything. He rolled his shoulders in
protest, his first honest movement since Matt joined him, and it earned him a
light scratch of nails from his tailbone up to his shoulders again, and his
breath came faster, because God, God, that was good. It was so good, all of it,
but Matt was going to make him want—

“So fucking pretty…” The hacker muttered somewhere above him, and Mello
clenched his eyes, feeling that heat spark to throw color in his cheeks again,
because he couldn’t make his breath slow down again, it was fast, faster than
he wanted, and so telling—A single finger traced its way down again, down the
line of muscle in his back to the cleft and between, to press against him, and
Mello’s world tilted on its axis.

“Oh, fuck—“

“Shhh…” Matt replied, chuckling again, and putting a hand in the center of his
shoulders to hold him down again, maintaining that touch with a maddening
clarity, just holding it. It was odd, fuck, it was odd even for them, and Matt
must have been reading again, because he’d never even considered…this was just
so…new between them, Mello didn’t know how to the handle this, and eyes wide,
staring at the headboard and gripping his poor linens wasn’t going to solve the
problem. He moved to look at him, because fuck the rules, if Matt was going to
break them too, but oh, oh, God, he moved. It was a miniscule motion, just a
circle with his fingertip, and the room spun again, that fire taking on a new
depth, because he couldn’t ignore that, and that was Matt’s point. He waited,
listening to the too-fast pace of his own breathing, waited until he thought he
could hear the tobacco burning inches from his head, but it seemed surreal, and
there was a low whine in his throat when Matt did it again.

And again, and again, made a pattern out of it that he couldn’t tolerate, it
was too invasive, too sweet, too threatening—“Matt, that’s…”

The hacker leaned forward along his back, those ever-present jeans making
themselves known against the curve of his ass as he unfolded and braced an
elbow by his head, muttering hotly against his ear. “We could have sex like
this…”

The thought floored him, completely, shut him down enough that he felt he’d
missed something even though Matt was just muttering again, “…I could fuck you,
just like this, Mello, think about it.”

His blood caught fire, because that touch was so deep already, and Matt could
get deeper? God, he couldn’t breathe, it wasn’t fair how useless his body was
proving to be, but that touch sped up just slightly, painting circles, and he
was half convinced, half-hard at just the thought. There was more to these
sessions, a side of it they weren’t exploring and Matt had been hinting at it
for months now, but he hadn’t expected this. Mello didn’t know to expect it,
but fucking Matt…

“I’ve read about it…”

And his fucking imagination…

“I can make you feel good, Mello, better than before, better than my mouth,
even—“

“Matt, God, I can’t—“ Think when he was fucking doing, that. He felt the hacker
tense, and the touch slowed just long enough to press harder, just enough to
push that line and make his hips tilt, shivers racing his blood because the
heat of this would kill him. The sun burned him now, every nerve glowing, a
deep thrum lying under his blood that had nothing to do with his usual morning
haze. The pause was brief, just long enough to make sure that he didn’t mean
it, because God, but he never meant it these days, did he?

It started again, and he moaned, a low keen in the back of his throat because
he wanted to rid of it, but he was curious…and Matt wanted him. He could feel
that length pressed against his skin through the jeans, and he knew how it
tasted, how warm it was under his fingers, but this was suddenly so damned
intimidating. Matt nosed behind his ear, nipped at it, muttered darkly, “Let
me, Mello, Let me have it…”

Oh, god, he was going to lose his mind with every stroke, he was fraying apart,
and he tossed his head, trying to shake it but his mind was arguing the logic
with the rest of his body and losing, “I….I just…Ah…”

He pressed again, and Mello didn’t hear the words, God, he didn’t hear himself,
he swore it, “Lo-fffuck…Just…lock the door.”

Lock the door, get up and give him a moment to breathe, to turn this into
something else so that he didn’t have to deal with it now, so he had to time to
think—

But he could hear that smirk, “I already did.”

Oh shit, Matt was gone before he had time to blink, the shock of it painting
his eyes wider, and he turned to look in time to hear a bottle click open and
then Matt was shoving him back to the pillow, brushing hair over his eyes
again. His heart was a bright staccato in his chest, and he wanted to tell him
to wait, but the hacker didn’t give him time. That touch returned, cooler now,
and the circles returned, bright and hot and maddening, and he couldn’t handle
this, oh Fuck, he’d lied—“Matt, I…Ah-Hahn!”

He bit the pillow, muffling that sound that was almost a sob as the touch
deepened like it promised, like it had threatened to, and he was left shattered
in his delusions about himself, because it was good. God, it was so fucking
good, he was touching him again, and this was different. It ached, slow and
steady like a long run cut short by a lack of practice, and it made his fists
shake.

“…fuck, that’s tight…” There was something dark there, that stain of
anticipation that made his blood catch fire because the lotion made it a smooth
touch when the hacker withdrew and pressed again.

“Ah…Ah, fuck, Matt, I—nah!” Touching him, God, Matt was touching him, pressing
deep and waiting there now to let him adjust, and he could almost feel that
stare burning holes into him. There was too much here, something so simple
shouldn’t make him want to scream himself hoarse, this was too hot, too fast
for them, when he’d made them wait so long for the rest of it. His hips tilted
upward into the next stroke, and Matt didn’t hesitate, that wasn’t fair! It was
slow, and good, and tortuous, to be captivated by this when he was losing so
much control in the first few seconds.

Then the hacker turned the stroke, and the motion made him writhe, but as he
was pulling back, the world disappeared. “AH!”

Immediately there was a hand at his hip, holding him still as he took that
measure of depth back and he said something, but Mello didn’t hear it, because
that was so fucking good he thought he might die. Just…There, his body
convulsed with it, shocks of pleasure echoing up his spine and then building
there as the pressure remained constant, and the curve of his back was wicked,
but that, yes, fuck, he wanted more of that. He grit his teeth, nodding blindly
to whatever question the hacker posed but that touched moved again, and it
still didn’t matter, because oh God, oh fucking God, he wanted it. That seemed
to be the correct response, much to his joy and despair, because Matt took up
the circles anew, and Mello clenched around him, sobbing into the pillow as it
raced like lightening along every vein in his body. It was good, oh fuck, it
was more than good, it was addictive. “Matt, please, that’s…Oh, God, that’s
good, oh shit I can’t—“

“…God, I can’t wait…can’t fucking wait…” He heard dimly behind him, that voice
and the sound of a zipper as Matt fumbled himself free. The touch increased in
pressure again, made him whine with it, and he felt him press against his skin,
the mutter fading in light of that touch. “…won’t let me in, not today…fuck,
Mello…”

“Please, Please, I’ll try, it’s just…ooh, fuck,like that—“, Short, beautiful
taps, and he could feel the motion of Matt fisting himself along behind him.

“Ngh…Not…not today, just this…”

“Matt, Matt, yes, like that, please, it’s so fucking good.” Mello had curled
beyond the point of the pillow’s protection, hiding his face in his arms and
reveling at the heat of it without further care to the world or the sound of
his own voice and how steady it was getting. He could still feel him, the hot
tip of his cock brushing just a few inches away from where his hand was somehow
managing to be more wicked for once, and it made sense to him, because he
didn’t…didn’t know how that would even be possible, when he already wanted to
climb inside himself and claw this fire out, it didn’t make sense.

Then Matt showed him, easing a second finger in alongside the first and that
hurt. The litany of words fell quiet as he inhaled sharply, breathed, God,
because he was sure someone was telling him to, but it was so hard to focus.
The hand at his hip didn’t let him pull away, and he groaned at the intrusion,
but Matt wouldn’t let him go. He tried again, but the deft motion of those
fingers convinced him otherwise, because that was a broader pressure now, more
direct and just…focused, and he was going to die.

“…Don’t stop talking, Mello, let me hear it…” He wanted to, there were words,
there were always words, but then he withdrew and rammed back, and it wasn’t a
word, it was fucking shriek on his lips because oh shit, that was better.

“M-..Matt, fuck” He couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to breathe, he was high on
this, thrown far beyond the simplicity of the sunlight and the wooden grain of
his headboard and other things that he’d always associated with pleasure. He
was burning, he was dying, he was in love with this, and they hadn’t even done
it yet. Another stroke, and Mello was fighting the fabric still wound around
his ankles, letting Matt guide him up to his knees. “That…please, Matt, please,
I want more.”

He heard Matt groan behind him, the bottle clicked open again, and he listened,
God, waiting for it, because he wasn’t allowed to look. Matt stole his mind,
however, brushing hot, firm little circles over that spot, and he couldn’t
think anymore, vision hazed almost completely as the touch resumed with a new
fury. He was burning, god, that heat was twisting through his stomach and up
his spine, wave after wave of pleasure, until he was crying out with damn near
every stroke, it was perfect. Then he felt Matt, pressed up against him, and he
panicked, because he’d said he wouldn’t—“Matt, what—“

“Hush…Close your legs, Mello.” He hadn’t even realized he’d spread them, but he
drew his knees together, some degree of his bashfulness returning when he
recognized the hacker’s intent. The length of him was trapped between his
thighs now, slick with the lotion he’d stolen from somewhere, or bought just
for this, Mello wouldn’t put it past him. He was hot, and hard, and something
was so wicked about this, especially when he started to move, “…yeah, fuck,
like that…”

He drummed his fingers against his prostate then, putting sparks behind his
eyes, and Mello forgot how to think again, feeling that motion tip him forward
because he hadn’t braced for it. Fuck, fuck, fuck, that was so…Oh God, it was
getting bright, the heat from the sun no longer a warmth, but a burn,
everywhere, “Please, don’t stop, don’t stop, Matt I’m close…”

The thrusts increased again, just slightly offset by the ones lower as Matt
fucked the channel of his thighs and that skin grew hot with the friction. He
could hear him, breathing behind him, small, quiet sounds that he wished he
could claim as his own, but he was stuck with chanting obscenities and praying
that Matt listened. He did, God, he always did, loved to hear him when he got
like this, because he was pulling his hips up again to meet him, and the
thought of those strokes, of that power, to the inside fascinated him as much
as it terrified him. He was losing himself somewhere, trying to hear Matt
behind him and feeling him more than he could possibly handle. He bucked, and
Mello twisted, and Matt shoved, and Mello had to catch himself or scream, and
it was beautiful, intense, God, too much to bear.

He caught fire finally, another wave of heat putting a new tone of desperation
in his throat and he stopped listening, stopped caring, because he was getting
there, oh fuck, he was getting so close, and just…He was just…

Matt snatched him up by the hair, putting him right at that line, growling,
“Tighten your legs, Mello.”

“God, I’m sorry, Matt please I’m gonna…I can’t—”

Twice, three, four, Oh Fuck, Matt killed him, driving brutally against that
high note until he battered him to nothing with it, and Mello came, hard enough
that he couldn’t scream, arching back against that touch in a desperate fit to
be closer, God, make it last a second more, he didn’t know he’d wanted it until
it hit him. “Matt, Matt, Matt—Ah! Fuck, ohhh—“

Oh God, he was done, collapsing against the blanket in time to hear the
frustrated sound behind him before he was gripped again and bodily flipped
over. “Want to see you, want you to watch…”

His eyes were still hooded, fuck, he could barely see to do as he was told, but
he didn’t want to fall asleep on him, because the tender skin between his legs
still hummed with the friction, and Matt was fucking beautiful. Those eyes,
those dark, dark eyes held his as he finished himself, one hand braced on the
headboard and the other on his cock as he worked himself over, it made him want
to encourage him, to get up and whisper filthy things in his ear to tip him
over the edge, but Matt didn’t need any fucking help, he was already biting his
lip, because he was so damn—

…Quiet, when he came, spilling himself just at the inset of the young
detective’s hip with the smallest sound in the world, crumpling forward when
Mello’s hands found his hair and pulled him down, because Fuck, over an hour,
and he hadn’t even kissed him—“I hate you. I fucking hate you.”

“Shut up, or I’ll do it again.”

Mello twisted his ear, and the hacker bit him, but he was too tired to argue,
and definitely too exhausted for seconds.

…And the sun was warm, anyway, better with the length of another body along
his, their clothes haphazardly shoved to the foot of the bed.

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