Work Text:
Mello’s perfect the way he is, really. Matt wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Sure, the explosion marred half his face, angry red welts and scars trailing down half of Mello’s shoulder til it reached his waist. His eyes are dark under the corners, eyebags deep and prominent. Lips pale, like all the blood that was once circulating his body had just been drained. That served as a result of what this investigation did to him. What the people here did to him. What Mello, himself did to himself
There was an unpleasant buzzing that filled the back of Mello’s mind then, to ensure that his headspace never gets the luxury of being at a state of tranquility.
But to Matt, nothing changed.
Infact, Matt thinks it brings out how Mello is at his core alot more.
Authoritative, determined, impatient.
On the exterior, he’d without a doubt would simply look like an impulsive man with a short temper to those who didn’t bother to take a closer look, but to Matt, he is so much more than that.
He hadn’t had a single issue, sitting at the balcony of their shared apartment a week after Mello had recovered. They bathed in moonlight, sharing a cigarette albeit the fact Mello wasn’t very fond of Matt’s smoking habits, whilst he reassured Mello that he was still who he had built himself to be — not an empty shell.
But ..
Matt wonders what it’d be if Mello were to be a little different.
Gentler, maybe. Nicer, definitely— clingier.
Like a wife, kind of.
Goddamn.
Matt knows he should probably interrupt his own train of thoughts before it travels down the track of no return— but hey, a man can dream.
His dream state Mello’s appearance would more than not resemble that of the real deal; blonde hair, piercing blue gaze, lean waist and all that.
Maybe.. his hair would be a little longer. More for Matt to run his fingers through, to tug on. Organized as he is, he’d probably wear it in a ponytail— or a bun, just to keep it out of his face, but would often keep it loose enough for Matt to tug free anytime he so desires.
His dream state Mello would wear Matt’s shirts all the time, adorned in thin, striped fabric. Perhaps, with nothing under. Bare thighs peeking out from underneath the hem of the garment— soft, unmarked, smooth. A little bit of an angle switch assisted by Mello bending over the counter or simply crouching down to pick up a fallen item would result in his shirt lifting up subtly, revealing a good amount of skin enough to make Matt salivate.
Matt grazes the buttons of his controller as he allows his fantasies to expand a little bit more.
“Matty! You’re back,” A high pitched voice rang from across the kitchen as Matt made his way further into the apartment. He had barely been able to step out of his shoes when a certain pouting blonde creature had launched itself at him, right at the doorstep sending him stumbling back a few steps. “Oh, I missed you, you know? You were gone so long, and I..”
That blue gaze is so eager, so open that it drags Matt’s focus off of the task of slipping out of his work shoes. “Yeah? You missed me, babe? How much, huh?” He asks softly, a question to keep his beloved distracted so he could atleast shed his footwear at the doorstep before stepping in.
The aforementioned blonde creature that had lunged at him unforgivingly and had been dead set on latching onto him like a needy koala, finally takes the hint and backs away, giving Matt some space before replying with the same enthusiasm displayed prior.. “So much, really.. I was about to die, you know!” He folds his arms, looking away to the side as his bottom lip juts out in a small pout. “You should really learn a thing or two on leaving me all alone like that.. it becomes suuu~per unbearable.”
That long, golden hair is loose down his narrow shoulders, flowing down his back and only then does Matt realize that the blonde creature, Mello, had decided to unabashedly steal one of his shirts while he was away. The red stripes suit him well, tattered spots on the shirt torn enough to reveal a few blotches of pale skin underneath the threads.
One side of the hem had slipped off, revealing a creamy, unmarked shoulder.
“Matty?”
Matt blinks out of it, his vision slowly tracing back to existence before he finds himself gazing into those piercing blues again. “Oh, right, sorry. Let me—“
Finally, he sets his shoes to the side and steps in the room, the fresh scent of vanilla introduced to the area by the use of a scented candle wafts through the air, embracing him in a silent ‘welcome back.’
This Mello is… different.
He clings to every gesture of affection Matt gives him, constantly craving attention and validation and praise for what he does. And unlike the unshakable, immutable mafia boss Matt would’ve known, this Mello will break and reshape himself into whatever form he thinks will satisfy his lover best. In every conceivable way.
“Slow down baby, you’re using words that are a bit too complicated for me.”
“Your hips are gorgeous, you know. You should try to show them off more, or sumthin’.”
“Hey, I think you should grow your hair out. Perfect for me to tug on while I fuck you to tears, baby.”
These words, gradually piling up on eachother to create who Mello is now. And perhaps Matt doesn't always have this Mello’s best interests in mind. He knows Mello will take his every passing whim to heart, so he's ever-so-careful about what he says.
Most of the time.
Sometimes his sex-obsessed, under the influence of weed brain takes over and there’s truly no going back from that, but it’s not like Mello doesn’t enjoy it — he does. Even asks for it sometimes.
God, Mello is so perfect.
He’s snapped out his trance when Mello tugs on his arm, a soft whine escaping his throat as he looks up at Matt with doe, needy eyes that told the story of a wife neglected all day. Matt admires them for a minute before pulling Mello into an embrace, hands on his waist and caressing every part of Mello that he can.
“Sorry, I was just thinking about how pretty you are. You know that, right? I wished you would’ve sent me a photo or sumthin’ while I was at work,” Matt coos, swiping away a stray strand of blonde away from Mello’s face. “Would’ve kept me going all day.”
To Matt’s delight, Mello’s face is tinted an adorable shade of pink in just under a second. “S-stop that, you’re so..!” He looks away, huffing softly as his cheeks puff up. “I would’ve done so if you had just asked, idiot..”
Matt cuts him off when trails a finger down the curve of Mello’s jaw. “You’re pretty, really pretty.”
Mello responds wordlessly by standing on his tip toes — because dream state Mello is shorter than the real deal, duh — and giving Matt a chaste kiss to his lips. With little effort, Matt picks up the initiative and holds his arms out for Mello to jump into and once he does, carries the smaller man to the soft couches, heaving him onto his lap.
“I was gunna have chocolate, y’know.. but you’re not chocolate..” Mello murmurs, tilting his head as if he’s deep in thought. “But.. Matty can come with me to have chocolate if he wants.”
Matt just wraps his arms around him, pulling him closer. He can feel the warm heat from between Mello’s thighs because of course he’s not wearing any underwear underneath that stolen shirt. “Yeah..” He replies mindlessly, nuzzling the junction between Mello’s neck and shoulder, taking in the faint scent of the delicate body wash he uses. It’s floral, feminine and so sweet.
“Today was so boring,” Mello laments, “you should’ve stayed home.. Actually, I knew you should’ve stayed home! What if something happens n’ I get hurt, huh? What then?!”
“Wouldn’t let it happen.” Matt responds, words muffled by the way he’s buried in Mello’s shoulder, leaving small kisses and nips at the skin.
“Yeah, whatever! But—“
Seemingly having enough of Mello’s whining, Matt lunges at him, eating up the breathless gasp that shifts into a small giggle when Mello is knocked onto his back on the couch, with Matt looming over him. Mello looks up dumbly at Matt, his gaze ever so curious.
Matt wants to rip him to pieces all over again, to etch himself into Mello’s very being so he never, ever feels replaceable again. Until he's sure that what he's made Mello into will stick- that he'll forever be touched by Matt, forever be his.
“So much to say, huh,” Matt remarks, averting his attention to Mello’s lips, which he connects with his own unforgivingly, swallowing up all the soft sounds and noises his boyfriend— wife, whatever, seems to give to him in exchange. Matt pushes the hem of the stolen shirt up, revealing the soft expanse of Mello’s tummy and when his gaze travels down.. down.. lower…
Matt’s hands gently part Mello’s thighs, silently taking note of the way his fingers are almost able to wrap around his thigh. There, he slowly, agonizingly so, allows his fingers to part the tender, glistening folds of Mello’s pussy.
“Hey.. what’s your deal.. oh—“ Despite Mello’s breathy protests, his cunt welcomes Matt’s fingers inside, pulsing around the digits like it wants more. Two turn into three, and soon, Matt’s mouth is on him, suckling at his clit gently.
Mello’s back arches, pushing his lower half even further into Matt’s face and Matt, for his part, is delighted. He grinds his hips hard against Matt’s mouth, letting the other trace his inner walls with a skillful tongue as he writhes underneath him.
“Matty! Ah— h~hn..” Mello wails, his own slender fingers finding their way to tug and grope at Matt’s red hair, unsure of whether to pull him off or push him down even further. The sounds he’s making are nothing short of pornographic, downright sinful despite the rosary hanging around his neck.
Matt just chuckles against his pussy at the irony, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure shooting up Mello’s spine, and soon, he’s gasping and panting Matt’s name over and over again.
“Matty..”
“Ma.. ah, fuck..”
“Ma..”
“Matt!”
“Matt!!”
Matt’s head shoots up and suddenly, he is not where he remembers himself to be. He takes in his surroundings— Desk, monitor, computers, a half empty beer can and an ash tray.
Mello is with him, yes— but clad in leather upon cold leather with a cross-adorned beretta strapped to his waist. Not in Matt’s shirt, like he remembered.
Goddamnit, he subtly looks down at his lap and mentally facepalms himself at his current predicament before shuffling so his lower half is hidden by the desk.
“What the fuck are you doing? Falling asleep? I told you to rest if you wanted but you resort to cigarettes.” Mello scolds, hands crossed over his chest. His hair is at it’s regular length again, falling loose over his shoulders where the golden locks seem to end. “Get to fucking work, we’re ahead of Nate now, but we won’t be if you keep slacking off like this.”
And just like that, he’s gone. The sound of heavy boots echo as his footsteps seem to fade.
Once Matt knows the coast is clear, he shuffles his chair back to get a proper look at the tent in his jeans.
Damnit. It was a dream.