Walls Came Tumbling Down

"I think that the last time I was in here, I was studying Beckett." Mello beamed. The study room was bright and airy. It held a couple of computers, two desks and chairs, but little else. Through the window, they could just about see a corner of Winchester Cathedral, but that was all, except sky. He considered what they had come here to discuss and smirked, "Not precisely what Mr Wammy had in mind, when he allocated it. I should imagine."

Matt hadn't got much further than the doorway. He was carrying his laptop in its case, slung over his shoulder, while his hands were taken up with a tray. A pot of tea, another of coffee, and a plate of chocolate brownies sat perched amongst the cups and sundries. "Or we could go into our old bedroom."

They had mutually agreed not to have this conversation in the room in which they slept. Unspoken was the fact that arguments might keep them from going home today, and they would linger in the atmosphere later on.

Mello contemplated the stairs. He had been trying to avoid going up them, as that really hurt his ribs. But if they did make it home, he'd be climbing steps then. "Ok." He nodded. "Always too distracting in there anyway."

It took a good ten minutes to even get to their childhood room. Mello entered it white-faced and gritting his teeth, not in the happiest of moods. But he was making an effort to be nice. He sat on the edge of the bed, which had been his own for ten years of his life, and sucked in some breaths. Matt placed the tray down on his old desk and proceeded to pour some tea. The cosy had kept it warm.

A Sunday sort of silence permeated the air. People moved like ants across the cathedral forecourt outside, rushing from the rain into its precincts. He watched them for a moment, then lit a cigarette. "Coffee?"

"Yeah." Mello looked up, blotchy skinned and audibly breathing. "Pour the sugar in."

Matt gave him six spoonfuls and carried it across. "I'll pull a desk over, if you're going to do fancy writing."

"Ha!" Mello glanced pointedly at his broken arm. He hadn't even considered the calligraphy.

"Thought you were doing it right-handed."

Mello sipped his coffee. It revived him somewhat, though sitting still had also done wonders. "Pull the table over." Matt did as he was told. "And get your laptop set up. We're going to do this properly." Matt arranged it all in front of his master, then left him browsing websites, while Matt went to collect his cup of tea. "Right." Mello surveyed him, as soon as Matt was seated beside him. "I'll have nothing but total honesty here, Mail. Understood?"

"Yep."

Mello stared at the screen. "Then let the battle commence."

"Lol?" Matt ventured.

"Mail, you know as well as I do that we're never going to arrive at forty points without some sharp words." Mello nodded towards the slave contracts, which Matt now spread out beside the laptop on the desk. Twenty lines for each. "You know what? You're the one signing your life away here. You should write them. Your hand-writing, your consent."

Matt gave a little smile. "In ink?"

"Yes." Mello continued clicking the mouse, opening a sea of tabs across the screen. "Do you remember how to write without a keyboard in front of you?" Matt picked up the nice calligraphy pen that Mello had commandeered downstairs. He opened the bottle of black ink ready to begin. Mello watched him, with a dubious expression painted across his face. "Practice on ordinary paper first."

Matt's smile grew broader. "Your faith in me is truly heart-warming."

"I have faith in you, Mail, just not in your penmanship."

Incredulity touched Matt's features. "At least mine is legible! You scrawl."

Mello nodded once, "The [url=http://www.bdsmcircle.net/dslifestyle/the9levelsofsubmission2.htm]nine levels of submission[/url]. I'm placing your needs at one for answering back about penmanship."

Matt narrowed his eyes at him and inspected the list visible above the website fold. "Scroll down."

"Down is veering towards total power exchange."

"Scroll down then." Matt demanded. In the resulting silence, he looked sideways and caught Mello's eye. His husband was smirking. "Just to read it." They stayed looking at each other. "Or I could do the internet part and you write..."

Mello started laughing. "Why on Earth do you even dream that you're past the fold here? You can see as far as five and you're already challenging me on control of the mouse. We're going nowhere with this contract until we agree on realistic levels." He eased himself forward to kiss Matt's lips. "Understood?"

"Yes, master." Matt waited demurely for Mello to decide to show him the rest of the page. "That said 'lesbian' at the top."

"I'm sure it won't make much difference, dear." They read through the list. "I think that you think you're an eight. In reality, you're more like a three. Agreed?"

Matt scanned the page. Eight indicated a full-time, live in, consensual slave. It explained how he would exist solely for his master's pleasure. It sounded good. His cock agreed. He found number three and sneered, "'Likes to play at being a slave'! Fuck off!"

"Realistic levels." Mello warned. "I'll accept a four, beyond that you're really going to have to state your case."

"No-one below a five gets off on pain." Matt reasoned. "And I bloody well do."

Mello pursed his lips. "So four with an element from five."

Matt frowned. "No! I haven't finished. I was comfortable with eight. In fact, I haven't even seen nine yet. Scroll down." He coloured slightly, as he realised that he was back to giving orders. Mello pretended not to notice, but nevertheless let him read the entry for 'consensual total slave with no limits'. "That's just mainly saying it doesn't exist. Honestly, Mell, I'm comfortable with eight because there isn't actually a nine. Whatever. There's nothing you could do, which I wouldn't submit to."

"Four with an element of five, it is."

"No!" Matt jabbed a finger at the monitor. "Forget about one, two and three, I'm not into dictating the scene. I can definitely go with 'suspense, vulnerability and giving up responsibility' from four; ditto being 'used by the dominant'. Five, yeah, 'enjoys being the object of one's partner's sadism'. No arguments here. Six," He paused, reading it more carefully, "oh."

Mello jumped in quickly. "Remember every one of these is a layer above the others. Six means that you're out of bed before me in the morning, making my cup of coffee. You're at my beck and call every second of the day. Oh! I'm sorry, that's only when the slave is in the mood."

"I can go with seven, 'regards oneself as the dominant's property at all times'."

"You're not touching seven, if you can't deal with six." Mello smiled. "So we have a truth emerging here. You like to be a sexual slave only. None of this practical, getting up at the crack of dawn malarkey."

Matt looked long and hard at him. "So if I get up early, we can have eight?" He waited a beat, before remembering to add, "Sir."

Mello clicked onto another tab. "Only if I can have number nine on the '[url=http://subshelpingsubs.tripod.com/articles/9levelsofdominance.html]9 Levels of Dominance[/url]'."

"Yes," said Matt, without even looking at the screen.

"And this is why our expectations get so unrealistic, baby." Mello replied, grimly, though his eyes shone compassion. "Let's make our own category." He nodded towards the contracts. "Jot this on notepaper first. My requirement is that you wear my collar around your neck at all times, as an outward sign of my possession of you. If anyone asks, you will tell them immediately what it is and why you wear it. You will declare yourself to be my slave." He waited for Matt to finish writing. "You will never allow another person to see you naked. You need to ask my permission before you take off your top or jeans in public or outside the home. You will sleep naked at all times. Other than that, you're free to dress as you choose. Do we have agreement on that?"

Matt nodded, then breathed, "Yes." He thought back to the prison cell. "What if I'm not sleeping at home with you?"

"You sleep fully clothed, unless you're in bed with me."

"Ok."

Mello thought about it. "Or you're likely to be in bed with me." He added, pedantically. "I mean, if I'm working on a case in my study and you need to crash. You're naked. I'm not getting into bed at dawn, then having to wake you up to take your jeans off." He stared at the screen. Beside him, Matt just wrinkled up his nose without adding a note. That part was understood. Mello reached one-handed to drag a nail across the foil of his chocolate bar. He'd made just one incision before remembering Mrs Carnegie's brownies. "Of course, there's always a sodding great wall of quilt between us anyway, so it's not like it makes too much of a difference. Pass the brownies."

Matt hesitated before picking one off the plate and handing it to his husband. His green eyes flicked to catch a glimpse of Mello's expression, before Matt looked back down at the contracts. He spoke in a nondescript tone, "Ok."

"You know, you slept without that quilt in Wales."

"Then I shot you." Matt replied quickly, regretting the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. He compensated by becoming frosty and staring at the notebook.

Mello said quietly, "It wasn't you." The brownie disappeared in two swift bites. Mello began absently scrolling the website up and down. "You need the security of the quilt in bed. You're a fucking nightmare to sleep with, when you haven't got it. You end up nearly punching me and screaming random shit in Spanish. Keep the cocoon."

Matt was inwardly cringing, though his expression remained blank. "If you want me to give it up..."

"I don't." Mello began skim-reading the '9 Levels of Dominance' again. "There's only eight on this list. But I'm placing myself mostly at six, with elements of seven. I'd be lying to myself if I didn't agree that I 'know how to control the pain experience so it never advances faster than the endorphins'. I certainly push you towards subspace and control the time afterwards. I will look after you then, because you're really out of it."

Matt tentatively reached across and covered Mello's hand with his own. He gently manipulated Mello's finger into scrolling the page to reveal number eight. Mello's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. A faint smile gradually grew upon his face. Matt bit his lip. "But we are having contracts. That's what we're doing."

Mello slowly nodded, "Yes, but the words 'total power exchange' are glaring out at me there and that is not my scene." He arranged his features in order to look reasonable. "I compromised on the quilt. You will compromise on thinking for your bloody self."

"'k."

"Mail, I said I wanted honesty. This is precisely what I mean." Mello sighed. "Are you even capable of honesty on this?"

"Yep."

"Total power exchange is a fantasy. Fucking off for hours to play on the XBox with your on-line mates, that's the reality. You don't want me controlling your every move in every day life. You want me to do that in the bedroom; with an option on me ordering a bedroom scene at a moment's notice. Am I right?"

Matt quickly nodded. "Yes."

"So if we establish that I could, but probably won't, order you into a scene on the day that Mass Effect 3 comes out." He paused with a questioning look, as Matt's expression became utterly blank. Receiving no extra information, Mello ran with what he already knew. "Because you've spent two whole games building up to your ending, making all of your decisions and killing whatever they were..."

"Reapers."

"So in February, March, whenever it..."

"March 6th."

"... comes out. I have the right to wait until you're right near the end, having had around 40 hours of tough decisions to make, and I'll order you into bed. No great Mass Effect ending for you, until I'm satisfied." Mello smirked. "Squirming there, boy?"

Matt shook his head. "If you did, I'd comply."

Mello rolled his eyes. "Yes, you would. But you'd hate me for it for weeks, so I won't. You know what total power exchange would look like, baby? You wouldn't get to play it at all. You'd never find out how it ended. You'd be naked, on your knees, on the floor beside me, wherever I was at the time. You'd be silent, gagged and waiting for me to finish my work, so I could beat you to within..." Mello stopped, staring at him. "And you're getting really turned on by this, aren't you?"

Matt risked a glance at his husband. A grin erupted finally across his cheeks. "Yeah, a bit."

"Even after..." Mello hesitated, thinking back to that period when he'd taken it all too far. He had nearly killed Matt then, tying him to a bed and terrifying him for weeks on end. Brainwashing him. Breaking him. A dark shadow passed behind Mello's eyes and Matt saw it. The redhead looked away. It was suddenly very awkward between them again. Mello whispered, "I don't want total power exchange, because I rely upon you to tell me that I've gone too far." He shook his head. "Never again, baby. Never again."

Matt glanced up at him, but Mello's vision swam. Matt said softly, "Stop worrying about that, Mihael. Ok?" He waited, but Mello's eyes were burning and he didn't speak. Matt sighed and reached behind to rub a hand up and down Mello's back. "Don't cry. Disorganised Attachment Dude here, looking to you for reassurance about my surroundings, and shit."

Mello spluttered a laugh. It hurt his ribs. "Ok." He breathed and took the opportunity to lean into Matt's arm. It hurt like Hell, but it set up his next scene perfectly. "I do want hugs, cuddles, affection. Running totally fucking contrary to what's normally in these things, but I want them." He peered upwards, reading Matt's half-bemused, half-wary expression. "Don't you dare call me 'camp' or a 'girl' for asking for that. I'll not be ridiculed out of getting my needs onto this contract too."

Matt nodded, then scribbled, '2, Give hugs', onto the second line of his notebook.

"Thank you." Mello exhaled, his gaze trained on the pad. "Now add number three, which is that you have to tell me when I'm out of order. If I'm beating you and it's not sex, then you call me on my shit. If you're not enjoying it, you tell me. If I'm killing you, you stop me. I have gone too far, too many times, and you know it. I know it. It destroys us in the long run."

Matt swallowed. "Only if we split up."

"Write on mine, number one, I will not, at any time, as long as this document exists, split up with you." He fixed his gaze on the empty page, urging Matt with sheer focus to begin writing upon it. "I married you in the eyes of God. I don't do divorce. This contract simply sets that out in a secular way too. Now write it down."

Matt still hesitated. "Are you humouring me?" He asked, quietly.

"No. I'm waiting for you to bloody well write it down." Mello told him. "I got the hugs. You get the reassurance in black and white."

"Then you are humouring me."

Mello sniffed and started to sit up straight again. A derisive tone split his voice, "And you wanted total power exchange."

Matt carefully wrote the words as spoken. His face was blankly unreadable. Then he said, "I'm sorry."

"About the unrealistic expectations?"

"About everything."

Mello was too busy trying to breathe with a stabbing sensation wracking his ribs. "Well don't be. It doesn't suit you." He ripped open the chocolate and stared at the screen. "Number four, for you, you shall and must use the safe word to stop any scene which isn't working for you, for whatever reason. It's not a matter of pride and prowess. It's to facilitate a learning curve about what does and does not work for us." He licked an edge of his chocolate bar. "And number two for me is that I have to abide by hearing it. Stopping immediately and discussing why it was said. No matter what the circumstances."

"Isn't that the same as my number three?" Matt asked, pausing with the pen hovering over the page.

"No." Mello told him. "It's the difference between braking at a junction and doing an emergency stop. Neither of which you've shown any skill in to date, within the context of our marriage."

Matt looked sidewards at him. "The rules are only just being made."

"Those rules should have been implicit."

Matt returned his gaze to the pad and wrote it down. Then he stopped and sipped his tea. "Where are we going with the Seroxat?"

Mello blinked and looked startled. "Erm, sorry, I was miles away." He gestured towards the contracts. "It's not twenty each, is it? They should be exactly the same. Yours in my hand-writing and mine in yours. That way you can hide it away in a vault or something, because it says that I won't leave you as long as the document exists." Mello lifted his chocolate bar to his mouth again. "And I will have my own copy to hand, so I can quote chapter and verse when you start systematically breaking every rule on it."

"I won't." Matt frowned. "This isn't Wammy's House Resolution. This is important."

"Mail, what does it say on the front of your wallet?" Mello asked, in his most reasonable voice.

Matt shrugged, though he knew damn well. He'd bought it himself off eBay. Mello continued looking at him, smugly over a chocolate bar. Matt saw no way out of it. "Chaotic Neutral. It's just a gaming reference."

Mello raised his eyebrows. "Don't fuck with me. Item five, I have to know every anxiety attack, even if it's low level. I want to chart patterns and help you work through them."

"That's three and four repeated in another way." Matt scowled. "And nothing to do with sex."

"The fact that you can't tell the difference is why it's going on there." Mello bit a whole chunk of chocolate off and gnashed it hard. "Just write it."

Matt swallowed. "You want to know everything that's going on in my head. You're just covering it from loads of different angles." As he looked up, Mello nodded his agreement, but didn't seem contrite. Matt hesitated, staring back at the contract. His top lip grazed across his bottom teeth, then he reached for another cigarette. Mello waited. His very silence urged speech. Matt smoked and didn't say a word. Neither did Mello. The tension started to tell in the air. Matt took a chocolate brownie and placed it onto Mello's thigh. His husband's gaze dipped to survey it, but he didn't retrieve it. "I just wonder," Matt paused at Mello's swiftly suppressed smile, and grit his own teeth.

"You wonder what, baby?"

Anger flashed through Matt, but he neither stood nor acted upon it. He merely sat there, pursing his lips, until they had to part for him to insert his cigarette. Mello finally appeared wary. Matt rubbed his face. "Ok. You want to know what's in my head. It's the price. It's on there."

Mello exhaled, "Ok, let's retreat a few steps here. I've fucked you off and that isn't helpful. You not telling me what I did also isn't helpful."

"You know what you did." Matt countered. "But fine. Let me help you compile a dossier on the inner workings of my mind. You lost the last one that you made." He saw the shock on Mello's face and relented. "Sorry."

Mello bowed his head. They were still talking about those twenty days in the flat in Southampton, when he had nearly broken Matt's mind. When he had definitely destroyed his own. "No. I'm sorry. We were thinking about different things; and I understand why I was more of a cunt in your version, than I was in my own."

"What were you thinking?"

"That I want to help you, because 90% of the time, you're in a constant state of low level panic over the cards that life dealt you. That if I knew what triggered that, I could counteract it." Mello took the brownie and ate half. The remainder he held up to Matt's mouth. His husband looked confused, but he ate it anyway. "Maybe the point is that we should both, in our own ways, stop thinking of you as a victim."

"Mm?" Matt frowned, with a mouthful of brownie.

Mello pointed to the contract. "Put down there that I promise to stop when you're in subspace and incapable of sounding any alarms. I also promise to look after you until you can." He watched Matt write it. Then watched him change all of the numbering, so that they were sharing the same twenty points. They had eight of them now. "And in answer to your question. I haven't got a fucking clue what to do about the Seroxat. Have you?"

Matt bowed his head lower. "I'll do the cold turkey."

"I'll support you. But can we leave it until I can do that?" Mello waited until he saw Matt's closed down nod. His husband seemed so miserable now. "You've had it tough here. Everyone's had something to say about it. Do you blame me for not defending you as you would have liked?"

"I can look after myself."

Mello's eyes narrowed. "Number nine, insofar as common sense allows, you will not enter into conversations, make any public gestures nor moves of any sort without my express knowledge and permission. By common sense, you can buy a loaf of bread. You cannot bring down an Institution, hack the Pentagon nor give Century your personal records." He met his husband's wide-eyed gaze. "The list of blanket permissions will grow, as we settle into that, but you have put me on the spot way too many times this past week." Mello remained unrepentant, even under Matt's stare. "And you never, ever, unequivocally never allow yourself to get arrested. If you're going into a cage, I'll put you there. No-one else. You're my property. You wouldn't loan out one of my CDs without asking me, would you? Well, then, you can't loan out yourself either." For a moment, Mello appeared petulant. "And I'll have another brownie please. In fact, can I have the Goddamned plate over here please?"

Matt slowly lifted the plate, then leaned over Mello's lap to place it onto the bed beside him. He sat back up, blowing out his cheeks. He finished his cigarette, as he wrote that down. "Do I put it in about the Seroxat?"

Mello hesitated. "Do you want to? I mean, I think that should be kept separate. But you are due some input of your own on this paper." It was as close to an apology as Matt was going to get, while Mello was being this hard-faced.

"May I ask the same of you then please?"

"What?"

"When you get freaked out, can I know about it?"

Mello frowned. "I should imagine the whole fucking street knows about it, when I kick off."

"Like now." Matt replied, distantly. "You're freaked out now, but it's coming out in, well, sadism."

Mello's eyes widened. Half a dozen words tried to bubble out at once. He settled finally upon, "How is this sadism?" Matt didn't look up from the page. "Mail, how is this sadism?" He touched a bruise on Matt's face. "It's not like you don't know what sadism is."

"You're flustered underneath, so it's coming out in harshness."

"Right." Mello flashed a smile. "So you're asking me to be gentle with you now." His husband didn't answer. Mello sighed. "Ok, I give up. You're not comfortable with that one, so strike it from the contract." Matt made no move to do so. "Alright. So word number ten exactly how you want it stated and I'll see if I can live with that too."

Matt wrote, 'Mello cannot put a brave face on things, when they're really tearing him up inside.'

Mello stared at it. "Examples?"

"When we came back from Croatia and it was really hurting you, so you broke my ribs and kicked me in the face." Matt told the desk, doodling on the edge of the notebook. "When you got upset about that dream, about your family, and you wouldn't let me comfort you in our kitchen. When you get upset about your face and take it out on me, by doing the housework with malice aforethought and threaten to cut off all of my hair, if I don't fetch clumps of it out of the drain in the shower, when I've finished."

"When I'm being an out and out cunt, you mean, because I'm ashamed of being too emotional."

"Yes."

Mello nodded slowly, "Thank you for finally admitting that I've beaten you up in circumstances that had fuck all to do with sex." He watched Matt, holding his own breath, not daring to exhale. Matt's face flushed, but he didn't look up. "Lot of shit built up between us, guapo. Starting with me leaving you in this hole. Me having you abducted and brought to the USA."

Matt looked up, accusation blazing in his eyes. "After your breakdown, we came here and you couldn't wait to go home. Even with the fucking place trashed. But you're desperate to stay here now."

"I don't trust myself with you."

"Bollocks!" Matt glared. "I don't even know what this is any more." He gestured angrily at the sheet of paper before him. "I thought it was going to be full of shit like 'Mail can't refuse sex with me.'"

Mello supported his own elbow with his cupped hand, despite the former already being in a sling. "That's number eleven then." He pushed on. "Number twelve is that I am not allowed to leave you behind anywhere. Number thirteen, neither one of us is permitted to submit the other one to silent treatment." He saw Matt's shoulders sink just a little. "But trust me, that's aimed way more at you than me. I'm not the one in this relationship who shuts the fuck up and ignores the other one." He removed his hand to point at the page. "And extend eleven to include all sexual acts. If I want a blow job, you're getting down on your fucking knees, whatever game just got released." He ran his fingertips over Matt's collar, as the redhead wrote it down. "Would I be accused of more brainwashing, if I commanded you to tell me every one of your sexual fantasies, as they occurred, however fleeting and inane?"

Matt peered sideways at him. "I'm twenty-one years old. That's every minute of the day."

"As long as it's with me."

Matt smiled, like the sun breaking through on a frosty day. "Always."

Mello met his smile with one of his own. "Then that should go both ways. I'd like to experiment with you. Do things that we've never or rarely done. Things which might not always involve you in bondage. Can we go that far?"

Their eyes were locked and something of honesty flashed across Matt's features. It was anxiety, covered over with a quip, "I'd be a crap kind of sex slave, if I said no."

"Which is where the frankness in sharing fantasies comes out. Doesn't it?" His hand crept up Matt's face and rested against the side of it. "I do love you, baby, and you can't go wrong with this. And do not," he paused for emphasis, "quickly say 'volim te' because it's expected of you. I'm so fucking onto you with that one."

"Eh?"

Mello shook his head. "Don't ruin it now with denials. It's alright. I know you love me too." He winked. "Never leaving you. I couldn't. Things have been fucked up between us; fucked up in this whole fucking world for a long time. I've dragged you into things you had no business touching. You've nearly done your own head in trying to be what you thought I've wanted you to be. This is the time for that to be over, but never our marriage. You're safe now."

Matt's lips formed a 'what?', but he didn't articulate it and Mello affected not to notice. "Something happened. In the cell."

Mello looked suddenly wary; but he kept his visage straight and his voice airy. "What?"

"I was given a full medical."

"Who by?" A sharpness now edged Mello's tone.

"Madeleine."

Mello waited. He replied briskly, "That's alright then." But almost immediately added, "And you gave your consent?" Matt's silence told the rest of the tale. "Did they find anything wrong with you?"

"I never got the results."

"Chrissie ordered this?" Mello asked. Matt just shrugged. "I'll demand the results." He watched his husband's face. "Tell me the full story." So Matt did. Mello listened, interjecting now and again with questions like, 'Where the fuck was Lauren?' and 'Did Near know? Was Near watching?' But in truth there wasn't much for Matt to tell. He'd been over-powered, then unconscious for most of it. Mello's fist clenched. His final response was hissed. "My apologies. I didn't know."

Matt touched the contract again. He quietly answered, "I didn't tell you."

"No." Mello let it linger. "You didn't." He glowered at the space behind Matt's shoulder, finally asking, "You want me to...?"

"I just want to go home."

Mello's front teeth ground against each other, as he moved his jaw, thinking. Then he glanced down at the contract. "You know, I think fifteen points are plenty to be getting on with. Let's shut down this crap." He closed the laptop's lid. "Write them up properly and get the fuck home."

Matt's rare smile broke through again and he slid the slave contracts towards them both. The calligraphy pen nib glistened black with ink; but the atmosphere between them melted away, like it had never been.