A/N: So, I wrote this because I wanted to see a happy ending for Matt and Mello. But, mostly, I just wanted to see what the two would think and do if they were "present" after Takada's kidnapping. I'm not good with author's notes, because I like my work to speak for itself, but I figure I could give a little info to make this piece more comprehensible. Mello and Matt are both dead in this story. Where they are and why they are there is really up for interpretation by the reader. I just figured that the two of them wouldn't be able to move on until they saw Kira defeated, so I came up with this story to do just that. Paragraphs in italics are memories and flashbacks. This is not a one-shot! It is a two part piece that is just very long, but I didn't want to split it into more than two chapters, considering the themes that encompass both parts. I worked quite hard on this and this is actually my first piece with anything even resembling a lemon. That and the language is what the M rating is for. I really, really enjoyed writing this. It helped me get through a very troubling and stressful period. I hope the rest of you enjoy it as well. And, if you want to set a mood while you are reading it, I was inspired by the song Somedays by Regina Spektor, so try listening to that if you got it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. If I did, this is what would have been shown. Unfortunately for me, it belongs to Ohba and Obata.

Reviews are greatly appreciated and absolutely loved!

Part I - Hot.

It's hot.

The air was stifling and thick, there was smoke and ash in his lungs. He was burning alive. No, he was burning dead.

He couldn't breath. He didn't have to.

He was dead now. It was all over. He would have loved to have said that he held a small sliver of hope that the bitch would be merciful, or weak, or scared, something that would keep her from writing his name upon that scrap. But he wasn't number two for nothing. He knew from the minute that smoke bomb went off that he'd never be able to see another sun rise and set, that he'd never be able to wake up with the smell of cigarette smoke cradling him to the one thing that held any lasting value in the world, that he'd never enjoy another bar of chocolate ever again.

But what would it matter?

He'd be dead. It wasn't like he'd be able to feel regret or sadness either.

So what was it that made his heart pound in his chest at the sheer thought that his time was quickly running out? What compelled those hot tears to pour from his eyes the night before?

It was the nothingness, the dark abyss that scared him to the very core (though he'd never admit it).

He knew everything, could figure out everything, solve anything at all...

Except death.

Would it hurt? Would it really be the end?

He had lived his life worshipping God, he should have been confident. But he wasn't. He was terrified. Terrified that, if there was indeed something beyond death, he would be sentenced to Hell for the awful crimes he'd committed in the name of justice...

Not to mention the single crime of passion that he really had no excuse for to spare him from eternal damnation.

"If there is a God, then I have nothing to worry about." Cigarette smoke rolled above their heads, languidly, mocking their frantic attempt to cling to life. "After all, you're basically set for Heaven. You might be one serious motherfucker" - Mello elbowed the man at this statement - "but I don't know of anyone who's done so much horrible shit for such a good reason. And in Heaven, you get everything you ever wanted, right? It's supposed to be perfect, right?"

Mello nodded slowly. He wished Matt would lie down next to him again. He suddenly felt very cold.

Matt grinned deviously. "Well then, there you go. I have nothing to worry about."

"Why is that?"

Mello watched as the bright flames licked at the decrepit walls and rotting foundation. His eyes felt heavy. He wasn't sure what he was doing here, how he'd gotten here, when he'd walked out of the truck and outside the church, when he started watching his own cremation.

The heat from the blaze was immense. It was pressing down heavily on his already weary body. His limbs felt heavy as if he'd just awoken from a very long, but all too short, nap.

Red hair mixed with gold on pillows made off-white by a lack of laundering. The bed creaked in time to heavy breaths, set by the metronome of thrusting hips and searching hands. Those perfect, full lips leaned down and traced over the edge of the expansive scar.

"Matt," the blond gasped, fingers pressing deeply into the strong shoulders above him. His back arched upwards when Matt picked up the pace of his thrusts, moving his mouth down to Mello's neck. "Haaah...harder..."

He heard Matt chuckle into his ear. "Are you begging me?"

Those tears were falling again. He suddenly realized that the last 48 hours seemed to be filled with nothing but fucking and crying.

Oh, and dying, too.

Was that really all his life had been? Sex, suffering, and death?

It's hot.

His tears were hot on his cheeks, sliding down his neck, smeared across his arm, searing, scalding, burning his skin.

The sensation felt all too familiar.

It felt like failure.

"Can't get much worse. Don't think you can have a bigger failure than this," he muttered, feeling as if he would collapse at any moment. He suddenly felt drained of all energy, felt barely alive.

Or maybe it was hardly dead.

He felt ashamed. He felt guilty.

Because the first time he and Matt had made love, yes, really made love, he had been murmuring prayers over and over in his head, pleading with the Lord to show the two of them some mercy, especially Matt, who thought of God as nothing more than a ridiculous fairy tale. While he was groaning into Matt's neck, he was reciting Hail Mary's. While he was pumping Matt furiously, he was repeating the Lord's Prayer. And when the two of them came together, moaning loudly at the top of their lungs, despite the apartments thin walls, he was singing hymnals and shouting out for salvation. The cum on his stomach felt like a giant letter F, for faggot, and the sweat on Matt's brow seemed to make the letter C...

For condemned.

His knees gave out. It wasn't surprising. He wanted to move, to get somewhere cooler, somewhere his lungs wouldn't burn from the irritating smoke and red-hot embers in the air. But he felt frozen to the spot, unable to take his eyes off of what was now his grave.

"Whoa, there," someone murmured into his ear as he began to fall.

There were arms around him now, lowering him steadily to the ground until he could sit, legs splayed out in front of him. Or maybe it was someone who was retrieving his corpse. Even now he couldn't distinguish between his slowly burning, lifeless body and...whatever he was now.

Oddly enough, the smell of cigarettes was easily identifiable amidst the smoky air.

"Are you sure you wanna be here?"

Slowly, Mello blinked, turning his head up as his gloved fingers traced across the arms that ensnared him.

"Sorry," was his curt reply. He knew he was about to cry, but there was no reason to break down without a fight.

Matt didn't hide his annoyance. He ran his fingers through his hair again and again and again until Mello thought he'd start ripping it out. He could tell the gamer wanted a smoke - desperately. Still, he resisted, knowing it would only hinder the bridge of communication between the two of them. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Mello rolled away from him now. Matt claimed he was only trying to make things better, and here he was getting pissed at him. The blond failed to see how this was making things any better. "Dunno," he said tersely, showing his obvious distaste for Matt's attitude. "I guess I just didn't think it'd bother me again."

Matt was silent for a few minutes and Mello felt his irritation growing. He kept toeing that line that told him to just get out of bed and fucking leave. Before he could cross that line, though, there was a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry I got upset," Matt whispered to him, laying down and pressing himself against Mello's back. "But don't lie to me...please."

Still pouting, Mello rolled back over to face the redhead.

He was smiling warmly at him, his hand stroking the side of his face tenderly, fingers playing with stray blond strands.

How could he be so fucking calm?! How the hell could he not be worried about anything?! How could he be so goddamn content with all this fucking filth and sin?!

"I suppose it won't do much good if I just tell you that you shouldn't be worried." It was as if Matt had read his mind.

Mello scowled. "No, it wouldn't," he snapped.

"So, does your God just not want you to love?"

Mello was slightly taken aback by the question. "No..." he replied slowly, blushing deeply.

Matt began to caress his cheeks, amused by the color that had risen there. "Since you're the expert, maybe you can answer a real question for me." Mello watched Matt as his hand slid down his neck, back to his ear, into his hair. "Is it a sin to love honestly or to live dishonestly?"

Mello bit his lip. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't. He gripped the back of Matt's neck tightly. They had never outright stated that they loved each other. The fact that neither of them was tied to the headboard was enough to confirm it, though.

Or at least, it should have been. But he suddenly wanted to make it real, as if it would convince God to forgive them.

"Say it," Mello choked.

Matt moved his head to Mello's ear and gave him a soft, tender kiss on his cheek. "I love you."

"I don't have anywhere else to be," he said, his face pressing into those familiar stripes. He glanced upwards. "For Christ's sake, take those stupid things off. The one time you manage to get on TV and you look like a fucking twelve year old." He was a bit happy when the redhead ignored him. Instead of removing the orange goggles, he took his gloves off, shoving them into his coat pocket.

"Wow, I would have expected the first thing you said to be 'I told you so.'"

Mello couldn't help the grin that sprang onto his lips. "Glad we went to confessional?"

"Eh," was the grunted reply. "Hey, look at this." Matt raised his hand in front of Mello's face. There was a small, bullet-sized hole in his palm. "They got me through the hand, the bastards."

Mello shoved the hand away, disgustedly. "Don't show me those things, idiot!" He suddenly felt like he'd puke.

"I think it's my punishment," Matt insisted. "That's what I was told."

Mello looked up at his partner curiously. "By whom?"

The stripes shifted as the thin shoulders shrugged. "I dunno. Someone..."

It's hot.

Mello gasped, his mouth feeling parched and dry. "Can we go somewhere else? I wanna leave now." He could hear cars approaching. He didn't want to be around when she got there.

He protested when Matt tried to scoop him up into his arms. He wanted to walk by himself, but found that his body was still tired, still worn. So he begrudgingly allowed Matt to carry him on his back.

It wasn't so bad, at least he got to bury his face in that lovely auburn hair. No one saw them as cars zipped by. No one could. They were dead after all.

They said it every time they could. Whenever they could. Surprisingly, Mello said it more than Matt. To Matt, it was because Mello always had to be the best at everything, the best at Mario Kart, the best at fucking, the best at loving. To Mello, it was because each time never felt like enough, like every wrong he'd ever committed against Matt, God, and the world would never be forgiven with those three little words.

So, he tried the only thing he knew to.

Confessional.

Matt went along, but not very willingly. He said it was only because he wanted to be able to fuck Mello again without having to hear him plead for forgiveness, but honestly, he'd done it because he knew it'd make the bastard smile, make him happy, maybe even make him enjoy the sex. Because, frankly, neither of them were enjoying it much right now.

"Forgive me, father, for I have sinned," Matt recited awkwardly as his eyes darted nervously to the screen separating him from a man who had no right to judge him.

"What are these sins, my child?" the man responded.

Matt blushed, his hands wringing together in his lap. He had expected some harsh, judgmental tone from the priest. If anything, it was inviting, welcoming.

This was getting weird.

"I'm fucking my best friend," he said bluntly.

"Do you love this person, my child?" the priest asked, seemingly undisturbed by the crude language.

"More than anything," Matt answered, grinning stupidly. "I'd die for him, and I'm not a very dramatic person."

The priest paused. "Why do you feel you have sinned, my son?"

Matt let out a bark of laughter, leaning back lazily in the uncomfortable wooden chair. "God hates faggots."

That really got the silence going. Matt wondered what kind of relief Mello found at this sort of thing, because it wasn't bringing any to the red head.

"If you love this man, my son, then God will offer up forgiveness. Love saves all, lust condemns them." Matt suddenly straightened at the man's words. "Take care of one another, pray for one another, and have faith in the Lord, and you shall be cleansed."

He gave a relieved laugh, weak and feeble, but relieved nonetheless. He leaned close to the screen. "Can you tell that to my friend when he comes in here? He's the one who's worried he'll be damned forever for this..."

They walked all the way back to the city. Matt didn't seem tired at all. Maybe it was because he'd just been shot to death, and hadn't had his heart fail on him like Mello. He carried Mello for hours. The sun had just begun to rise when they left, and it was high in the sky by the time they made it back to the city. They weren't really sure where they were going. Home, maybe. What they'd do when they got there...well, they'd just have to play it by ear. Hell, Mello wasn't even completely sure how much longer they'd be like this. After all, they didn't see many other dead people on their way. It wasn't like the Sixth Sense, at all. Maybe this was purgatory and the two were paying off their penance. "What took you?" Mello asked quietly as he nuzzled Matt's hair with his nose. "It took you long enough to find me..."

Matt looked back over his shoulder. He was panting a little now. "I did the same thing as you. I watched 'em scrape me off the pavement."

Mello frowned. "Matt, stop..."

The redhead smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I'm just feeling pretty confident, considering."

Mello didn't reply, but he knew exactly what Matt was talking about. Suddenly, all that fear he'd kept bottled up seemed silly, stupid, pointless.

Mello squinted as he looked up into the winter sun. It didn't feel like January at all. It was comfortable, warm, every movement or sound seemed gentle.

One of his fingers ran over Matt's lower lip. Matt made a small noise and kissed the digit lightly.

"Sorry, again..." Mello murmured.

The redhead hiked Mello up farther on his back. "If you keep saying that, I won't come with you until you promise to grow up."

It's hot.

He didn't realize his hands were clutching Matt. "You have to let me apologize for that."

Matt sighed and stopped in front of their apartment building. "Yeah, I suppose you do owe me for that one."

Matt's unlit cigarette flew across the room, having only spent mere moments between the redhead's lips before the vicious blow landed on his mouth. Small drops of blood splattered across the floor. Okay, not so small.

Mello watched as the redhead used the coffee table to get to his feet and stand up. His hand was pressed to his mouth; a small trickle of thick crimson oozed between his fingers. He gave Mello a look of absolute loathing.

"So, what's got your panties in a bunch now?" he spat as the blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

"Where the fuck were you yesterday?!" Mello shrieked, grabbing Matt by the collar. "I told you to fucking be here!" He shook the boy furiously at his words. There was blood on his gloves where his knuckles had made impact with the redhead's lips.

Matt scoffed, smirking coldly. "I had somewhere better to be. Lord knows this shit isn't worth the sex you can dish out."

Matt's head snapped back as Mello lashed out once more. He fell to the floor with a groan of pain.

Ungrateful, smug, worthless. He hadn't even bathed yet. Little fucker took his mercy for granted.

The rage in his chest burned like an unholy inferno, blazing higher and higher. There was nothing Matt could do to stop it now. He just had to let it burn out.

Burn and consume the both of them before dying into a smoldering pile of ash.

The redhead knocked the lamp off the end table as he stumbled to get back to his feet. Blood dripped from his split lip. He gave a disgusting hack and more of it spurted onto the couch cushions and a large glob of the stuff fell to the floor.

"You're a fucking bitch, Mello."

Matt never got to his feet. Mello pistol whipped him and knocked him to the floor again.

It fucking hurt, the pain was spreading through his entire head. He couldn't even think anymore. He refused to make a sound as Mello used the toe of his boot to roll him onto his back and place his foot heavily on his chest. He choked back a cry of pain as his heel dug purposefully into his ribs, feeling the cold metal barrel of Mello's gun pressing into his forehead.

"If this isn't worth it to you," the blond hissed above him, his already disfigured face looking even more grotesque when it was contorted in rage. "Then get the fuck out and don't fucking come back." He hit the redhead across the face again when he opened his mouth to speak. "I own you, you fucking dog. Or have you forgotten that?"

"Go to hell." Blood bubbled and squirted from his lips, making his words warble in his throat.

There was the all too familiar jingling of handcuffs. Where the fuck did Mello find these things? "My, my, it seems you have forgotten." There was a dangerous glee in Mello's tone. "It seems you'll have to be taught a lesson."

Matt rubbed his wrists absentmindedly as the two of them slowly walked through the trashy apartment. Mello kicked at a rotting table in one of the corners of the room with a humorless laugh. "Guess we didn't have too much to come back for, even if we'd made it out alive."

Matt grinned stupidly and finally took his goggles off, placing them atop his head. "I dunno, it's kinda cozy," he joked. "I mean, we've had plenty of good times here, you know?"

His arms crossed over his chest, the blond continued to look at all the things they'd left behind: torn wallpaper, an unmade bed covered in sweat and drool and the remnants of frenzied sex, broken tables and chairs, dirty clothes littering the floor. Was this what he was going to miss so badly? A crappy apartment that always smelled funny, was never warm enough, constantly filled with the useless hum of computers? "I think I liked LA more."

He heard the refrigerator open. "Think we can eat this stuff?" he heard Matt ask. "I dunno why, but I'm starving."

"I don't know," Mello responded apathetically. "Why don't you find out?" He sat down hesitantly on their bed, running his hands over the sheets.

What would happen tomorrow when the rent was due? Would the landlord wonder what had become of them, why they had left all their things here? Would he recognize them on the television?

Or maybe he wouldn't think twice about them, just throw all of their things out and rent the damn place out again, though Mello couldn't fathom anyone who would actually want to live here. They only rented the place out to save money, so they could buy all the things they ever wanted to before they were finally gone. People always told you that you couldn't take it with you, but Mello would bet that he could probably turn on that brand new Wii next to the TV and play it as long as he wanted.

He didn't want to though.

Something didn't feel right about it. Something about doing anything other than being here with Matt felt... trivial, as if he had something far more pressing to attend to.

He just couldn't figure out what it was.

Laying back down on the bed and staring up at the ceiling, riddled with water damage, he clutched his rosary in his hand.

It felt so abrupt, all of this. He felt as if he'd just fallen out of a plane, without a parachute, knowing full well he would die when he reached the ground. Then, the moment his body made impact, he suddenly awoke, realizing it was all just a dream.

Maybe this was a dream.

Maybe he was living in his last moment alive and in the next second he would really be dead.

He gasped softly as Matt suddenly crawled over him on the bed, sliding his arms around Mello's neck. Matt turned his head to the side and placed his lips to his ear. He didn't nibble, didn't kiss, just let them rest there, content and happy. "Maybe we're supposed to wait...until the 28th?" Matt always seemed to know what he was thinking. Warm, tender lips moved against the fleshy lobe as the redhead spoke.

Mello smiled slightly and put his arms around his friend. He was sliding the man's jacket off, making those little movements with his feet against Matt's ankles that said he wanted to do something other than just lay there.

Matt grinned. "Geez, wouldn't it be an affront to God to have sex like this?"

"Shut up, Matt."

They had met, inadvertently, only a year or so after he'd left Wammy's. It was one of the more awkward moments of their lives. Matt had thought Mello was a hooker at first, even offered him money in exchange for a "good time". He barely recognized him, decked out in tight leather pants and hanging out in one of the more dangerous parts of LA. It was quite a change from the frail boy he knew at the orphanage, who always wore shirts that seemed two sizes too big for him and pants that were so long, he nearly tripped on the bottoms of the legs. Mello never tripped though; he was far too graceful for those types of things.

He needed a place to stay, or at least, that was what he told Matt.

Maybe he just wanted to be near him. Either way, Matt wasn't about to reject.

So they spent the first year and a half together, hacking government databases, keeping tabs on "that fucking prick" Near, and, on very rare occasions, talking about the "old days." So many times, Matt was tempted to tell the blond just what he felt when he watched Mello sleep at night, how he wanted to kiss those sweet, chocolate-laced lips, and hold him until the sun came in through the window and kept them from falling back asleep.

Maybe if he had said it, he wouldn't have left again.

He wouldn't have joined the fucking Mafia.

Matt knew Mello was pretty ballsy, he had no idea just how much so though.

"I won't be staying here anymore. You stay here and watch over things while I'm working, got it?" He wasn't even looking at him when he spoke. He was getting ready to leave.

"Yeah, it's cool," the redhead lied, looking back down at his PSP. "You ever gonna come visit?"

Mello smiled. "Of course, I'll see you on the weekends." There was something false, something forced and cruel in his smile.

"Alright, see ya," Matt replied, pretending to be too engrossed in his game to care.

The moment the door closed and the apartment was empty but for him and all his computer and game equipment, he kicked over one of the chairs in the kitchen with a snarl of frustration.

Matt sat up to slide his jacket off. He quickly straddled Mello's waist, grinning lecherously. "You're not gonna have a sudden change of heart, right? I don't want to hear you saying you feel guilty halfway through." He pulled down on the zipper of Mello's leather vest.

"I said, shut up, Matt." Mello jerked the striped shirt up as far as it would go, urging the redhead to pull it off. He eventually complied, leaning back to pull it over his head and toss it to the floor.

They gave small gasps as skin met skin, already glistening dully as they began to sweat in anticipation. Lips, tongues, teeth met in a frenzy, desperate hands clutching shoulders, hair, back, waist, hips, ass...

"Wait, wait," Matt gasped, pulling back slightly when Mello ground his hips upwards. "Hold on," he said a bit more firmly, using a hand to hold down Mello's eager hips.

Mello looked up at him, eyes smoldering and dark.

It's hot.

Matt's breath poured over his cheeks in hot waves as the two of them panted together. Matt seemed to be thinking of something.

Mello growled in frustration. "What is it?" he snapped, irritated with the firm grip Matt was holding on his waist, keeping him from arching upwards into the younger man's growing erection. He gave a sharp jerk, managing to escape his grip for a moment, pressing tightly against his hips.

Matt gasped sharply and leaned down, resting his forehead to Mello's. There was sweat forming on their brows now. "Just...slow down..." he breathed. "We can...take our time now..."

With a smirk, Mello realized just how right Matt was. He leaned up and kissed Matt slowly, deeply, passionately.

The redhead made a sound in the back of his throat and pushed Mello down into the pillows, his hands moving up to take a nipple between his finger and roll it back and forth.

"Don't run away again, okay?" the gamer slurred against Mello's neck, nipping and licking at the flesh until a small bruise formed.

Quickly, quite distracted by the things Matt was doing with his mouth, the blond nodded, moaning as Matt moved down his body to lick at the nipple he had just been fondling.

He came back the first weekend. He had been very quiet, almost irritated the whole time. He was jumpy, tense, excessively alert. By the time Matt woke up on Monday, he was already gone, without so much as an early morning shake and a mumbled "see ya."

"Wake me up, before you go go," Matt sang morosely to himself as he ate breakfast alone.

The next weekend, he never showed up. Nor the weekend after that, nor the one after that.

It was a month before he finally came back. And the first thing he did when he arrived was tie Matt to the bed and fuck him.

There was nothing behind it except anger and frustration. He was just Mello's whore, his outlet.

His dog.

And Matt wore his leash for another year and a half with fucking willful ignorance.

They slept in the same bed, but they might as well have been on different continents. A wall had been built between the two, thick and impenetrable, enough to rival the Iron Curtain.

When he'd cry, Mello would taunt him. When he screamed, Mello spat at him. When he fought, Mello would knock him out.

He wondered if he was living in The Body Snatchers. Each day he wondered when his pod person would walk in and put a bullet through his temple so he and this Pod Person Mello could go and conquer the rest of the world.

"Be a good boy now," Mello mocked as he pulled on his pants one Tuesday morning. He said he'd stayed an extra day because Matt had been so obedient lately. Even so, during the day, they rarely spoke, and at night, it was just more abuse. One more day didn't really mean much to the redhead anymore.

"Hey, get me out of these things," Matt snapped tiredly, still laying handcuffed and naked on the mattress.

Mello simply grinned maliciously at him and left.

He stayed handcuffed to the headboard, unable to move, eat, drink, even go to the bathroom, until very early Thursday morning. By that time, he'd pissed on the bed, unable to hold it any longer. He knew Mello would mock him for that, too, but he really didn't care at that moment.

He was asleep when Mello finally came back. The sensation of something dripping onto his face was what woke him.

"M-Mello?" he murmured fearfully. Mello hit him whenever he spoke out of turn.

Heavy breathing and what sounded like hoarse sobs greeted his words and something foul smelling and thick dripped down onto his cheek.

"D...damn it," the blond hissed feebly. He was struggling to unlock the handcuffs.

Matt could barely make out Mello's face in the dark. There was something dripping from his mouth and face. His clothes were filthy and torn and the smell of burning flesh was overwhelming on him, filling Matt's nostrils and causing him to gag. Had there been any food in his stomach, he might have puked.

Shaking hands moved over Matt's naked form once the handcuffs fell from his wrists, fingers clutching, trembling, jerking. Matt tried to reach out to Mello's hunched form, but it darted out of his reach and into the bathroom where he could hear the blond vomiting, cursing, crying.

That was the night he came crawling back, half his face burnt off and in worse shape than Matt had ever seen him. The redhead felt he like could forgive all the beatings, all the abuse, all the shit. Mello's pod person had suddenly died.

He had his best friend back.

Mello was all for taking their time, but this was almost too much. He gritted his teeth together as Matt gave a particularly good suck, running his tongue along the underside of his erection. "Matt," he moaned, jerking at the auburn hair. "Matt, if you keep doing that, I'm gonna come."

That was all it took to bring the gamer up. He kissed the blond roughly as he thrust his hips forward, swallowing the moans and whimpers that resulted. It felt so good to have Matt filling him again, almost like some sort of epiphany, like he'd just fit the last missing piece into a jigsaw puzzle. Matt pulled away, gripping Mello's narrow waist, panting heavily, his tongue practically lolling out of his mouth, between his bruised and kiss swollen lips. The blond felt a small bit of satisfaction at the fact that Matt's entire body seemed to be shaking in restraint. The redhead pulled out slowly, watching the pale figure squirm and writhe at the sensation before thrusting forward sharply again.

Mello threw his head back until it threatened to snap his neck, his moans bordering on screams. The leisurely pace was driving him crazy. He was so used to love making so hurried, he had no choice but to hold on for dear life and keep himself from coming too soon or passing out.

But this, this was love. It was love that was translated from words into actions, actions that were intentional and conscious attempts to convey what couldn't be spoken, actions that made them groan and scream and shake.

Mello's hands wandered Matt's body as if it were the first time they'd ever touched one another. Was this really what sex with Matt felt like? It seemed too good, too pleasurable.

No, this was their first time. That's why it felt so new.

Every single time they made love before this didn't seem to qualify. Every other time, the threat of Kira and the inevitability of death hovered over them, holding them back, injecting fear into what should have been nothing but passion.

Now there was no need to fear, no need to hurry. The pleasurable sensations and raw emotions running through their veins, passing between one another like static electricity was pure and unsullied.

Before, it had always been a frantic scramble, never knowing if "this time" would end up being the last time. They had always been constantly trying to bring each other to that delirious point of transcendence, when they lost a sense of time, place, and meaning for a few brief moments. The pleasure brought them to a world where Kira didn't exist, where Near didn't always win, where God wasn't watching.

This was almost torturous, but Mello couldn't think of a torture that felt better.

He loved him, he loved Matt. So much. He couldn't help himself. He loved the reassuring hands, loved the messy red hair, loved the eyes that so resembled the color of a pot of rich chocolate fondue, loved the defiant smirk when Mello began to babble pleas and incoherent murmurs.

It wasn't a choice. It was never a choice.

It was unstoppable. They couldn't avoid falling in love, just like they couldn't avoid jumping headlong into what they knew was a suicide mission.

They fell in love the moment they met, fell hard and hit the ground running.

Mello gasped the redhead's name as he suddenly felt calloused fingers close around his swollen member, pumping slowly, deliberately.

The gasp, moans, screams grew louder, their pace grew faster, but slowly and gradually, until Mello began to really beg, feeling so close to the edge, so close to simply falling over the cliff instead of flying to the sky. He didn't want to fall alone. He didn't want to be alone. At that Matt finally gave in, thrusting into the blond's tight entrance again and again, faster and faster, his speed and strength growing at what seemed to be an exponential rate. The world outside their embrace seemed to have come to a halt.

"Fuck, Matt, I love you!" he groaned as Matt leaned down to give him a messy kiss before he finally came, letting out a strangled moan.

Matt followed him a moment after with a long, low groan.

Mello gulped for air as Matt slowly lowered himself onto the older man's trembling form, both of them basking in the luxurious afterglow.

But there was something more besides the simple feeling of relief and sexual satisfaction as the two of them clung to each other, kissing whatever part of the other their lips could reach.

He suddenly felt alive again.

"Well then, there you go. I have nothing to worry about."

Mello gazed at the redhead curiously. "Why is that?"

Matt put out his cigarette and finally laid down beside him, pulling him close, burying his face against his shoulder.

The cold was suddenly gone now. Mello clung to Matt's body, breathing in as much of the man's scent as he could, trying to etch every single detail about his body, his smell, the sound of his breathing, the sound of his heartbeat into his mind. He wanted to be able to summon up the image of his lover when he felt that cold hand of Death descending upon him.

'It's hot,' he thought. If he were to ever have to describe what perfection, what contentment and true happiness felt like, that's how he'd describe it.

Hot.

"If your Heaven was going to be perfect, you'd need me there, wouldn't you?"

Mello felt one of those burning tears trail down his cheeks, but he didn't wipe this one away.

He just let it burn and burn.

"Of course I would, you dumbass."

Whew! Well, that's part one. Part two will be up as soon as I get time to finish it! Darn college and its pesky homework...
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