The Mello Code

It was bitterly cold in the workshop and became progressively more so as the door was opened. Icy December air rushed in to overwhelm the meagre heat given by the little heater. Matt stopped sawing and took the cigarette from his mouth. Mello stood blinking in the doorway, but, at Matt\'s glance, hurried in and closed it behind him. He placed a mug of tea on the workbench near to where the redhead worked. "I brought a cuppa." He nodded towards it. "I can\'t concentrate."



"Why not?" Matt kept his tone neutral. Mello was giving nothing away either.



"I don\'t get you, Matty. You give mixed bloody signals all the God damned time." He leaned against the workbench with his chocolate in his hand. "I\'m rough with you and it\'s domestic violence. I\'m gentle with you and it\'s \'oh no, I haven\'t got the oxytocin levels to cope\'. I just talk to you instead and you\'re looking wistfully at your games. I ignore you and it\'s \'oh woe is me, I was neglected as a baby and I can\'t stand to be on my own\'. You call me a contrary fucker, but I have nothing on you. I\'ve come to the conclusion that what you want, at any given time, is the opposite of what you\'ve actually got."



"Thanks for the tea."



"Can I come and get a hug without you screaming conjugal rape at me please?" Mello asked, quietly. Matt glanced at the chocolate. It wasn\'t even in Mello\'s mouth. He was clutching it in one hand. Matt nodded and released the handle of the saw. It stayed wedged in the block of wood that was halfway to becoming a shelf. He didn\'t move around the workhorse though, waiting instead for Mello to pick his way through the debris on the floor to reach him. Cold arms, encased in red leather, eased around Matt and gathered him up. "I\'m sorry if my reaction earlier could have been misconstrued into..."



"Mello, you were fucking out of order and you know it."



"Yes." The blond nodded. "I know." There was no response for that, so Matt didn\'t say anything. They remained huddled together against the drafty back wall and Matt couldn\'t tell if it was comfort or just something to do. Mello eventually broke the silence. "What are you thinking, Matty?"



Matt shifted his weight onto his other foot and spat away the strands of blond hair, which seemed determined to stick to his lips. "I\'m thinking that it could have been a lot worse than it was. I\'m also wondering if we are just going to take it in turns to crack up for the rest of our lives?"



"You think I\'m cracking up."



"I think you\'re really fucking stressed." Matt rubbed a hand down Mello\'s back. "You ready to talk about it?"



"I am stressed."



"I know you\'re stressed."



Mello leaned back to look at him. He didn\'t seem contrite. There was still something akin to rage bubbling under the surface, though he was making a Herculean effort to suppress it. "Can we go back in where it\'s warmer?"



Matt nodded and waited for Mello to step back. The blond held out a hand, but Matt didn\'t take it. He switched off the heater and picked up his iPod dock. A switch by the door disconnected the electricity to the whole workshop, but he glanced around to ensure that he\'d left nothing burning. He lit a cigarette and followed Mello back across the yard. The air really was quite bitter. It froze his arms through the striped shirt and his goggles steamed up the second he entered the kitchen. He closed the door and turned, but Mello was right there, pushing him backwards and pressing him up against the wall. The kiss was brutal, knocking his head against the brickwork. All Matt could think about was not dropping his iPod. He held it aloft to the side and kicked out at Mello\'s legs.



"What?" Mello stepped back, frowning.



"What do you mean, \'what\'?" Matt snapped. "I thought you wanted to talk." He took off his goggles and wiped them on the hem of his shirt, before replacing them again.



Mello raised his hands in surrender. "Ok. Fucked up again. Let\'s talk." He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. Matt skirted him, watching him warily, then reached the kettle. "Yes, I am stressed. Yes, I feel like half the world is asking me to think for them right now. Yes, you have put doubt into my mind about this case. No, I don\'t want to give the case up."



"You\'re scared Near\'s overtaking you again." Matt volunteered, as he took a mug out. He suddenly remembered that he already had a cup of tea. It was on the side in the workshop, growing cold. He would have gone to fetch it, but that involved turning his back on Mello. He didn\'t want to do that.



"How the fuck is Near overtaking me?" Mello growled, though his expression said that he knew damn well and it was tearing him up inside.



Matt didn\'t dignify the outburst with a response. Instead he asked, "Do you want me to help you with the case?"



"Yes."



Matt sighed. "Then why didn\'t you just fucking say so instead of acting like a prick."



"Now can we have sex?"



Matt stared at the teaspoon in his hand. "You think I\'ll feel better about you scaring the crap out of me upstairs, if we just turn it into sex now? You think it\'ll drag it back out of the category of fucking domestic violence and into that grey area that we sometimes fall into? You think..."



"Mostly I think that it would calm me the fuck down." Mello glowered at the tabletop. "Sorry, but it\'s not about you or what they think in fucking Winchester. It\'s about me revving so much that I really think I could go out there and kill someone. It\'s about me not being able to see the words on the screen or think my way out of a paperbag right now, because all I want to do is hurt someone or something or ride my bike until it crashes into something." He thumped the table and growled. "I thought danger turned you on, Matt. Want to try something really dangerous? Want to see if I could manage not to seriously injure you or kill you, while you\'re at my mercy? Fancy that?"



Matt\'s heart pounded. Every instinct inside him, but one, screamed at him to flee. For a fleeting moment, he even had the route in his head. If he could make it as far as his car, he could drive to Wammy\'s House and claim sanctuary. The combined forces of himself and Hal might just bring Mello down a level. Then again, it might just unleash an even more furious angel on a house full of children. He turned slowly. Mello was still glowering at the tabletop. He had still not taken a bite out of his chocolate bar. "Mihael, eat chocolate. I\'ll be back in a moment."



Mello looked startled, even more so as Matt rushed past him into the hallway. For the briefest instant, even Matt thought that he was going to dash out of the front door and around the back to his car, but he didn\'t. The redhead leapt up the stairs and into their room, before he could change his mind. He found what he was looking for and ran back down again. Mello was glaring at the kitchen doorway, as Matt entered it again. "Sorry that..."



Matt dropped handcuffs onto the table in front of his husband, then leaned across in their wake. "Do your fucking worst."



Mello smiled. It reached his eyes and made them shine, illuminating the uncertainty behind the fury. "You\'re insane."



"I\'ve said before and I\'ll say it again, there is nothing you can dish out, Keehl, that I can\'t take. Do it."



Mello lifted the handcuffs and turned them around in his hand. "Take your clothes off then." He gazed across the table, a slight smirk dancing across his face. "Right there."



Matt nodded. He fought for, and gained, an inner calm based around the certainty that Mello was not going to kill him. It was a test, like half the things that came out of Mello\'s mouth. It was probably more for the blond\'s amusement than anything else to see him like this. Matt was cold, but he took off his jacket and boots. He darted across the kitchen and flicked the switch to turn the heating on, before he took his gloves off. Mello watched him with a predatory stare. Matt returned to the spot before their noticeboard and lifted his shirt over his head, holding his goggles in place with the tip of his forefinger. His jeans, socks and boxer shorts followed, until he stood, shivering and wishing that the radiators would heat up quickly. "Ok."



Mello rose, leaping up onto the table and jumping down the other side. He didn\'t touch Matt, but pointed at the floor. "Kiss my boots."



Frowning slightly, because this was a new one and so he didn\'t know where it was leading, Matt dropped to his knees. The situation was already signalling in his balls. It was embarrassing, but that made it even more deeply erotic. Mello was forcing him into this and Matt was letting him do it. The redhead smiled and bent over, his lips brushing the muddied leather of Mello\'s boots. The blond reached down and pulled back Matt\'s arms. The redhead nearly fell onto his face, but gained his balance and took his weight onto his knees and thighs, as Mello secured Matt\'s wrists behind his back. He reached again and lifted the goggles off. Exposed and feeling now as naked as he was, Matt continued kissing Mello\'s boots.



"Do you realise what a pitiful whore you look like right now, Matty?" Mello rasped. "Absolutely fucking pathetic." His toe came up and clipped Matt on the chin. "Up my leg please."



Matt knew that Mello must be getting off on the sight of this, because the leather was so thick that no kisses could have been felt through them. Nontheless, Matt\'s mouth moved up, nuzzling the inside of Mello\'s leg until he reached his groin. There he was immediately pushed back down with a hand on his head. Matt repeated his actions up the other leg and this time was allowed to kiss over the laces and the bulge of Mello\'s penis. Mello\'s fingers curled around Matt\'s collar and dragged him out into the hallway. Unable to adequately find his feet in time, Matt\'s knee banged against the carpet and grazed it. "Fuck!" He gasped, but was already hitting tiles.



He lay prone with Mello encircling him. A soft light shone through the saints of the stained glass and cast little blobs of colour all over them. The Slav\'s voice rumbled on, "You don\'t know how often I\'ve fantasised about dangling you from the landing railings, so you\'re hanging here at my mercy. It just needs a bit of rope." Mello\'s toe tapped at Matt\'s rib-cage and the redhead couldn\'t tell if it was precursor to a kick or a hint to roll onto his back. He did the latter and found Mello smiling down over him. The blond stepped between Matt\'s legs and placed a foot over his aroused genitalia. "God knows you\'re a slut, Matty. Look at you getting off on this. Would you like me to hang you by your wrists from the landing railings?"



Matt gasped back, "You can do what you want with me."



"Oh, I know." Mello smirked. "You\'re mine." He tilted his head back, surveying the distance and the strength of the wooden struts. His foot pressed down further. Matt felt himself hardening even more painfully than the actual sensation caused by his husband. It was the knowledge that he was being so sexually disrespected. It bypassed his brain and went straight to his loins. He found himself just staring, in a state of extreme arousal, at Mello. His husband was still in his coat! His mind planning actions that would cause so much pain and humiliation. His chocolate bar was still in his hand. It rose, as Matt watched, to have a corner nibbled. In truth, Mello had barely touched him and Matt could have come right there and then at the slightest movement of Mello\'s foot. "Wait there." Mello leapt, landing with a clatter of heels on ceramic just inches from the top of Matt\'s head. He bounded up the stairs, two at a time, and disappeared in the direction of their bedroom.



Matt exhaled. If he was going to make any plans at all, now was the moment to do it, while Mello wasn\'t intoxicating him by sheer primal presense. But, as he lay there, Matt couldn\'t think of a single strategy other than obey his master\'s will. It was hardly even for Mello\'s benefit anymore. If the blond had called down that he\'d changed his mind and was going to do some work instead, Matt felt that he might just scream. He watched Mello appear on the landing above, chuckle and crouch down to inspect the balustrade. He tugged experimentally on one, then with more power. It didn\'t give, but Mello wrinkled his nose up anyway, before peering over the top at the sheer drop below. His gaze met Matt\'s and Mello grinned. Matt called back, helpfully, "I think it would hold."



"Possibly." Mello shrugged, pattering down the stairs again. "But I haven\'t got time to test it. It wouldn\'t look much like a fucking accident if Wammy\'s came to investigate, after you turned up there dead with every bone in your body broken." He reached the foot of the stairs. "And it would be no good then trying to tell them that you were aiding and abetting me at the time." He leaned down and grabbed Matt by the collar, lifting him to his feet again. "Much better idea."



"What is?" Matt was being propelled towards the understairs cupboard, where they kept the mops and hoover and wondered briefly what possible use Mello was going to put them to. However, they stopped short of it and Mello swooped down to take his motorcycling gloves out of the helmet on the floor there. Mello thrust them into his hands, unlocked the cuffs and stepped back, looking up again. "You want me to put these on?"



"Please." Mello replied, dismissively. He waited until Matt had done so, then slowly brought his gaze down again. "Nervous yet?"



Matt wasn\'t actually nervous. He was intrigued, thoroughly turned on and his quick mind had already formed an inkling of what Mello was thinking. However that wasn\'t the answer his husband was presumably looking for. "Yes, a bit." He grinned. "Why am I wearing biking gloves?"



Mello wrapped his arms around Matt\'s waist and lifted him off the floor. "Grab those railings above your head and hang on." Matt tried, but it still needed Mello to raise him another inch before he could get a firm grasp. "Stay." Mello released him, leaving him dangling a foot off the floor, as he raced up the stairs again. A two sets of handcuffs emerged from his jacket pocket and he quickly secured both of Matt\'s wrists to their individual wooden balustrade. He sat back on his heels and grinned down through them. "Less distance to fall, if they do break."



Shoulders already aching, Matt attempted to breathe through the constriction of his breastbone against his throat. He had to tilt his head back. His stomach felt stretched; his legs hanging uselessly, until he kicked out and found that he could reach the cupboard door with his feet. It afforded some relief from the stress on his arms and hands. Still gripping the balustrade, there was, as yet, no pressure on his wrists. He imagined what that would be like without the gloves on and his conclusions just confirmed that, for all his sharp talk, Mello was not prepared to irreparably hurt him. He exhaled peering up. "Yep."



"Right." Mello clattered down the staircase, shedding his jacket as he reached the bottom. "Get your fucking feet off that door! Arse!"



Matt let himself drop again. "There\'s no way you can fuck me up here. What are you going to do, stand on a chair?"



"I never said I wanted to fuck you. I said I wanted to hurt you."



"You said you wanted sex!" Matt shot back, indignant.



"Yeah." Mello sniffed, doing so well at keeping the amusement from his voice that Matt wondered if it was even there. "We\'ll see how we go." He pulled his belt from the hoops of his leather trousers and wrapped it around his hand. "How are you feeling, baby?"



There were parts of Matt\'s body, now starting to really protest, that he hadn\'t know were there. He dared not let go of the balustrade for fear of never being able to hoist himself back up again, if the jolt of his falling to the length of the handcuffs\' chain hurt too much. His fingers hated him. "I\'m good."



The belt smacked down with a sharp stinging, that ricochetted up through his tortured shoulders and arms. His hands hurt more than his back did and Matt immediately scrambled to support his weight on the door again. Mello hooked an arm around his waist and pulled him back before he\'d even touched it with his toe. "I\'m going to hurt you so bad, Matty, and you will let me."



Matt willed himself into the surrender that his groin was demanding of him. He could have screamed the safe-word, but he didn\'t want to. The belt came down again and, by the fourth time, his adrenaline was up and the bio-energy rushing through his body so fiercely that he barely felt the fifth. Then the agony of his hands made it through the arousal and Matt knew he was going to have to let go. He peeped blearily up and tried to judge the length of the chain. They had plenty of handcuffs with barely any at all. In fact, there was at least one pair with no chain, just two cuffs cut into the same metal framework. Mello, the complete bastard, had chosen two with several links. There would be a falling. He would just have to trust his husband to catch him if he dislocated both of his shoulders. He still held on, until the eighth or ninth cracking of the belt against his back, then Matt\'s fingers just gave up on him and he dropped.



Matt shrieked, as his shoulders were jarred and his arms shot urgent signals to his brain for their torment to end. He immediately clutched at the chain themselves, as Mello paused in the beating of his back. Matt dangled, judging himself basically intact, and he exhaled loudly. "I\'m ok."



"Like I care." Mello commented, bringing the belt down again. "Such a fucked up slut. Such a complete waste of human sentience. Good for only one thing and that\'s to feel the lashing of my belt. You want it, Matty?"



"Yes!"



"What do you want?"



Matt knew the rote. He couldn\'t actually see Mello, but he knew that the blond was powerfully turned on by him begging for pain or humiliation or any other torture that could be enacted upon his mind or body. Matt gulped. Who was he trying to kid? Matt knew himself to be aroused no end by the fact of begging for it. "I want you to hurt me. Mello, hurt me. Make me feel it."



The belt came down twice more. "You want me to do what?"



"Hurt me!" Matt was losing himself into that hazy mental world, which was only attained at times like this. Where his body felt so wracked with pain, that it was helpless to stop, that it shut down on itself. He felt divorced from the tears on his cheeks; he couldn\'t remember when he\'d started crying them. "Hurt me!"



It was on his back, on his arse, on the back of his legs, the bruising leather whipping down time and time again, until Matt could feel himself becoming dizzy. He felt the colour drain from his face and stars appeared before his eyes. He couldn\'t even warn Mello, it was coming on too quickly, he was just going to faint. But Mello stopped. He caught him and supported Matt\'s weight until the light-headedness passed and the redhead was able to breathe again. Then Mello laughed. "This is such fun."



The blond raced up the stairs again, but Matt hardly registered it happening. Then one of the handcuffs was released and Matt felt a stab of panic as he dangled free on just one wrist. He screamed and left a hand clutch his forearm, then it too was free and Matt fell crashing down onto the tiles. His feet touched ceramic, but his knees buckled and his back gave. He crumpled onto the floor, feeling the blessed relief of coolness on his welts and the lack of pressure on his limbs. Mello leapt over the bannister and landed, catlike, a few feet away. His flies were undone and his erection rose starkly from them. Matt panted, staring up at him. "Wanker."



"Oh, God no." Mello bent to pull him up by the arm. "And for your information, Jesus really is your saviour today. He is anyway, whether you believe it or not, but he especially is today." He pushed Matt in front of him, towards the living room. "Reason being that it occurred to me that you\'re going to St Mary\'s this evening. I couldn\'t beat you up too much or else we might frighten the priest. But no, I\'m not a wanker. A fucker, I\'d take." He shoved Matt over the side of the settee, then sighed. "Too low." He grabbed his husband\'s collar and yanked him back up again. "Kitchen table is always good."



Matt grabbed at the metal cutting into his throat and succeeded in squeezing his fingers under it, just as a coughing fit took him. Mello waited impatiently for him to recover, before manhandling him through the kitchen doorway and throwing him onto the table. Mello pulled down his own trousers, just far enough to allow unfettered access to his erection, then he grabbed Matt\'s hips and entered him, roughly, urgently. Matt moaned loudly, his body aching against the woodwork and his hands, still encased in biking gloves, grabbling against the polished surface. He was in ecstasy. His knees bent backwards, so that his heels could press against Mello\'s backside, trying to push him deeper inside. He heard his own voice, cracking out at a cadence that he rarely reached, screaming Mello\'s name and telling him over and over again that he loved him. In English, in Spanish, in Croatian, in any language that came to mind, though he couldn\'t remember thinking any of it before it escaped his mouth. Then he was lost until he came and until he felt Mello shooting his own load, hot and hard, into him.