Note: Aaaand here's the ending chapter of Peeping Tom! But don't cry, our next fic will come soon! Just put us on author alert to stay tuned! Thank you to all our wondeful reviewers! Don't forget to check our respective fics too, on our personal profiles (Dlvvanzor and xxbeyondxbirthdayxx) because we are that awesome, yes, and you love us for that. What? You hate us? Aaaaah, no, you hate me (BB) because I made you believe I wouldn't put a long stupid author note in this whole fic, but you know, I had to do it at least once, I'm that annoying, and I love myself for that. Sooooo you know, we didn't get as much reviews for this one as You've got Mail, so I told myself 'hey, shouldn't I stop writing?'... scratch that, just kidding, we're not writing for reviews, but because we love it!
Ok, I'm letting you read because Dlvvanzor will hit me for that when she reads hehehehe. See you soon wonderful readers! -BB-
Mello:
"You won't hurt me." He smiled at me as he said that, and in this smile, there was so much... love?
My heart exploded, my brain exploded (and my dick would soon too, believe me, such a smile, I was learning, could bring me almost close to climax).
I felt new. Being someone that can be loved, and trusted, was something I would have never thought possible, and there he was, in front of me, and he was loving me, and trusting me, and giving me the confidence that I would never ever do anything bad to him again.
So I grabbed his middle and leant him on the floor, maybe a bit too suddenly because he yelped, and giggled again as his back softly touched the floor and I pecked his lips.
"I love it when you laugh like this." I told him. It was true. His laughter reminded me of that old song by The Carpenters that I remember hearing when I was a really little kid, back when I had parents, you know, the one that says "Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near? Just like me, they long to be close to you"
His laughter was like a song, like birds singing, like a beautiful woman's voice singing, like spring rain falling softly on green leaves... Oh God, see what this guy does to me...
But he was doing something more to me at that precise moment, something in my lower half.
I got rid of my shirt and rolled it in a ball to slide it under his head, to make him a bit more comfortable.
And I began to explore his body with my lips and tongue and hands and I couldn't get enough of his skin, of his cute little moans, of his nipples erecting as I sucked on them, of his hands in my hair, of the way he arched his back when I took his erection in my mouth, of the way he panted as I slid one, two and three fingers in him slowly...
"Please, go in... now..." he begged me with a shaky voice.
That was all I was waiting for, my own member was aching with lust, and I had to control myself not to pound him like mad immediately. I undid the laces of my leather pants, and got rid of them quickly.
I slid inside of him slowly, letting him time to adjust. He began moving under me, so I met his hips with mines, thrusting gently.
I leant over him, each arm resting on the floor, on each side of his shoulders, and his hands crept on my cheeks. He held my face like this as we moved together at a slow pace, diving in each other's eyes, his widening slightly as I hit his sweet spot.
And we made love, softly, gently, without a sound, not even a moan, just our breaths, heavier, and our lips brushing together, and a whispered 'I love you' as we came.
I was the one to whisper...
Matt:
He said he loved my laugh. My annoying, girly, gay laugh. No one had ever said they loved my laugh. Sometimes passersby stared at me when I laughed- seriously, it was an annoying laugh. And for some reason he loved it.
More importantly, though, he said he loved me.
No one had ever loved me, as far as I knew. My parents didn't love me, which they made clear with how they treated me. The orphanage I grew up in didn't love me. Lots of girls liked me, but none of them had ever loved me, despite what they may have squealed to me across the hallway. I was, quite honestly, completely alone in the world.
Except, apparently, for Ten.
He loved me. The first person... okay, first existing person... that I had ever loved, and he loved me back. I don't know how that happens or why. Or why such a person could want me. There was nothing to me. I was chill, I was lazy, I didn't do anything. What was there to love? There were days I couldn't even look in the mirror, thinking about all the life I'd wasted and the above-average brain that I cheerfully turned to mush- death by video game. Where Ten was brilliantly alive, I was half-asleep. Where Ten was strong, I was mush. Where Ten was beautiful, I was a puppy dog. Where Ten was graceful, I couldn't kick a ball. Where Ten was a mystery, I was obvious. Where Ten was complex, I was simple as plain white bread.
But he was here, and he loved me, and for some unimaginable reason he wanted me, wanted my body and wanted me, and that fact alone was enough to allow me to let it go.
It was over, but I still hadn't had enough. I wanted more of him, but not in the way I had so long ago.
It was finally love on my part, too.
Mello:
He rolled over me, with that smile. And he began to nibble at my skin, lower, and lower, and lower... I could feel my skin tingling, and my erection come back like a running horse. Especially when he used his own semen from our previous lovemaking to prepare me. God that was hot.
He found my prostate (I don't know if it's a gamer thing to be skilled with fingers but shit, he's a god) and massaged it, making me lose it totally.
"Take me!" I moaned. Or begged. Dunno, but I didn't care, he does that to me, I just don't care anymore how I sound or look like, he makes me even more naked than my body looks like.
He thrust into me completely, in one motion, and adopted the same position than I had a little earlier, leant over me, face to face. Except that his thrusts were growing harder, deeper, needier.
Exactly what I wanted. Was it the difference between sex and love?
He was pressing against my prostate with each move, and I couldn't help but meet his hips to feel even more of him, and I stopped trying to control myself. I knew I was moaning, groaning and panting but the pressure was driving me crazy. He was driving me crazy, it was like being complete, full, and dominated by something bigger than life and not being scared of it, but diving into it without restrain.
No, it wasn't the difference between sex and love. It was one of the many ways we would make love, be it sweet, or wild, it would always be love... because sex would never be meaningless anymore.
"What's your name?" I murmured, as I realised just how much I cared for this man.
He looked a bit surprised, but he replied between his pants: "Matt..."
I smiled.
"Why do you ask me that now of all moments?" he wondered, his questioning look on me as he was still thrusting in me so hard I was close, so close...
"Because I want to scream your name when you make me come..."
I think he was taken aback by my answer.
Matt:
And he did scream my name, and it was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard.
Thoroughly exhausted now, I lowered myself to his side and cuddled into him. He wrapped his arms around me. "I've been calling you 'Ten' in my head this whole time," I told him.
"Ten?" he asked, puzzled. "Why?" He had more experience, and therefore more stamina- he wasn't nearly as wiped out as I was.
"Because when I was looking at you through my window, I rated you on a ten-point scale, ten being Johnny Depp, and you were a ten."
He stared at me for a moment.
"I'm not creative, okay?" I said defensively.
He smiled and kissed me quickly. "Neither am I. The best I could come up with for you was 'Cute Nerd.' Self-explanatory, I think."
"What's your real name?"
This seriously was something I should have asked a long time ago. How had it never come up?
"Mello."
The label clicked right into place. That was a strange name, but despite the fact that Mello was certainly not mellow in any way, shape, or form, it seemed to fit him. It was just as much of a juxtaposition as the rest of him was- his scar with his beautiful face, his leather with his lithe body, his angel's hair with his profession.
So I just smiled at him. "Mello," I echoed. "Nice to meet you."
He held me tighter. "Yeah."
We spent the night on the floor of my shop (which was uncomfortable), talking about everything, finding out in what ways we were different and in what ways were we alike. There weren't many similarities. There might have been two, but one of them was insignificant and I barely remember it. The other one, though- neither of us had living parents, except I was happy mine were dead and he still missed his.
"So, am I moving into your apartment or are you moving into mine?" he asked me. I think he was joking.
Problem: it sounded like a great idea to me.
"I have an actual bedroom," I pointed out. "And it would be a pain in the ass to move all my computer shit to your apartment. I mean, I wired the place specially and all..."
He gaped at me for a moment. I was right- he had been joking. Well. He was gonna have to learn not to jokingly offer me things that I want. Because I'll accept them, and then he'll be backed into an awkward corner.
But he shrugged, laughing quietly. "All right," he agreed.
Excellent.
As I kissed him tenderly, and as he deepened the kiss, and as our hands held each other's faces as if they were life itself, the world became officially and irrevocably perfect.
Apparently voyeurism pays off in the end.
Three cheers for the peeping Tom.