The Blooding - For Spoiled Kitten

"Matty!" Mello yelled. "Come and help me move this." Matt strolled into the room and stood watching Mello bent over a bookcase. This was his library and he had managed to acquire a vast quantity of books in the few months that they had been living in this house. "Stop looking at me like that. It weighs a ton and I'm not taking everything off it just to move it three feet over there."

"I was ogling your arse actually, but ok." Matt smirked, taking up a corner and lending his strength to the manoeuvre. A brief burst of effort later and the bookcase was in the position that Mello had pointed towards. "Why is it going...?" He stopped as a slipping noise began behind him. Adrenaline rose in direct proportion to Matt's mental image of being crushed under a landslide of literature and he darted out of the way. Only three books ultimately fell, but Matt had brushed against another shelf. A skull rocked and smashed on the floor behind. "Shit! Fuck!" Matt frowned. "Mello, that skull had better not be real. In our house!"

The blond grinned at him. He stalked closer, his eyes staring manically, "Yes. I stabbed its owner and decapitated him, before skinning the flesh from his flesh with a hunting knife." Mello had reached the redhead now and licked his lips, before crouching quickly to sweep up a piece of cranium. "It's porcelain, freak."

"Oh." Matt had the evidence thrust into his hand. "I like how it's me who's the freak and not the person with a propensity for collecting skulls. Bit macabre for a Catholic, isn't it?"

Mello laughed, leaning up the wall beside him. "All Catholics are macabre. Haven't you seen our icons? We all walk around with miniature depictions of a man tortured to death for a start." He held up the crucifix on his rosary, then laughed at Matt's confusion. "But the skull has nothing to do with my religion, thank you very much. I just like them."

Matt looked around the library. As well as the apparently breeding expanse of books, there was also a lot of Gothic or vampiric symbology. All the items that Mello seemed to materialise out of thin air, but thought to be out of place in his 'cultured' study, had found their home here. Red, black and pewter candlesticks, cloyed with many layers of wax dried in the act of dripping; dark velvet drapes covered in twisted sculptures and pottery figurines, their faces grotesque; and skulls. Many, many skulls. "How can the same mind, that agonises over the best water-colour to hang in the living room, also conceive of all this? I'm sure that it's bordering on witchcraft, Mello."

The blond blinked, "... the fuck?" He reached to hold Matt's biceps, leaning in with a smile. "So narrow-minded, my innocent, little sceptic. You thought Christianity was all flower-arranging and jumble sales? We have our dark side too, you know."

"I did know that, Mello. Seeing as my idea of Christianity is based on you, I'm well aware of its dark side."

"I will eat the flesh and drink the blood of my Saviour and I will live forever." Mello's lips touched Matt's jugular and he sucked. "'I will rape you with my mouth and you will enjoy it.'"

"I refuse to believe that that was in the Bible." Matt whispered, but his head tilted to allow Mello access to his neck. "Not unless Bram Stoker added another gospel."

Mello chuckled. "No, that was 'Danse Macabre'." His breath could be felt, hot, against Matt's throat. "'The sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous wantonness.'" Mello swooped, pushing Matt's arm high behind his back, while the blond's teeth encased his Adam's apple. He didn't bite down, but he didn't need to, the sense that he could was enough. The Slav's tongue snaked out and licked the flesh beneath. Matt pressed against him, forced there by the grip that Mello held him in, but also with a yearning of his own. Mello withdrew slightly, kisses trailing upwards, along the soft underside of Matt's chin and across to the very end of his jawbone. "I will take you over and you will beg for more."

"Fuck, Mell." Matt swallowed. "We were moving furniture and..."

"Don't think about it. I will tell you what to think." He swung Matt around, pressing him up against one of the larger bookcases. More skulls lined the shadows behind him, propped into the crevices between books and the shelf above. Gloved hands lifted the hem of Matt's striped shirt and he raised his arms to assist in his own stripping. Mello immediately descended again, his mouth enclosing an already budded nipple. He hissed over it, "'You are but mortal, Sir. Time is now to be dreaded - since once he put that mark upon your throat.'"

"I don't know what the fuck you're quoting, but..."

"Hush, Matty." Mello rose, smirking. "Oh, bless, you're quivering."

"It's a bit cold in..."

"You shudder at my touch and well you should." Mello reached down and returned with the knife that was habitually kept in Matt's left boot. One palm pressed against the redhead's shoulder, holding him in place; the other hand trailed an edge of cold steel over the contours of his chest. Matt stared. His fringe had parted to allow sight of his huge green eyes, gazing back uncertainly, behind the orange goggles. His breathing emerged as short gasps, testimony to the fear that both of them knew was so delicious to the redhead, when it was coupled with sex. He audibly inhaled sharply as Mello's knife began to cut. A stinging pain preceded the cascading of Matt's blood, down over the already bruised whiteness of his skin.

"Fucking Hell." Matt exhaled, but his lover hadn't finished.

Mello's lips followed the passage of the wounds he made. Hungry kisses touched the lacerations and his tongue lapped up the stains beneath. "'No man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the man he loves.'" His finger slid along a cut and, taking up a quantity of blood, he pressed the digit between Matt's lips, forcing him to taste the fluid of his own veins. The redhead opened his mouth and let Mello touch him deep inside. A smile flickered at the tips of his lips and Mello grinned back, exposing blood-stained teeth. "Oh, my Mail, you would let me do whatever the Hell I liked to you. You will let me. You do." He dived back down to lick up all that had fallen since, sucking at the cuts themselves. His knife glided down to rest against Matt's belt. "You should learn to say your prayers, guapo."

"You won't castrate me. You enjoy my cock too much."

Mello laughed and knelt. His rosary banged against the denim of Matt's thighs. "'I, on my part, give up the certainty of eternal rest and go out into the dark'." His fingers made short work of undoing Matt's belt-buckle and only a little more in opening the flies. All the time, his knife was held in the hand that pressed firmly against his lover's pelvis. The redhead never moved, nor made an attempt at escape, though he trembled slightly. "Such trust in me. Such trust."

Matt bit his lip, aware that his erection was communicating all that needed to be said to Mello. The blond ignored it though, not even pulling down his jeans, just allowing the flaps to gape open, exposing white boxer shorts and his need. A finger hooked over the elastic and the knife cut into Matt's abdomen. "Oh my fucking God."

The blond's gaze slowly rose upwards over a self-satisfied smirk. "Am I hurting you, Matty? Oh dear." His mouth dipped again to lick at this new wound. He smeared blood all over Matt's hips and his own cheek, then bit down hard into Matt's side. The redhead tensed, arching backwards with a loud gasp, but Mello just lapped at the damage he'd caused. His gloved hands reached down to unclasp the straps of Matt's boots; Mello barely glanced down, too intent upon his sucking, but he worked them loose anyway. Then he stood, grinning wildly, like some latter-day vampiric Pan.

Matt's blood dripped down Mello's chin. The redhead watched it happened, feeling pinned and weak against the bookcase, despite the fact that Mello wasn't actually touching him. Without being verbally or otherwise bidden, Matt stepped out of his boots. He peered back, with half-lidded green eyes, through his goggles and his fringe. Mello raised his own forearm and dragged the knife down it. Blue eyes flashing with wanton danger held the gaze of the redhead, until the Slav pounced. Matt's head was ripped back with a grip of his hair, his throat exposed again. But Mello didn't want that. He lifted his arm until his own blood dripped down into Matt's waiting mouth and the redhead blinked. He breathed out, "You're a sick fucker." The blood splattered onto his lips.

Mello's slow smirk loomed in the half-light above. "'I will kiss thy mouth, Iokanaan.'" He leaned, supporting Matt with an arm, as he bent the Spaniard backwards. From this unsteady perch, Matt was kissed, hard and passionately; the taste of iron passing back and forth between them. Mello drew back an inch or two and hissed. "'Ah! I have kissed thy mouth, Iokanaan, I have kissed thy mouth. There was a bitter taste on thy lips. Was it the taste of blood? Nay; but perchance it was the taste of love. They say that love hath a bitter taste. But what matter? What matter? I have kissed thy mouth.'"

"Where's the knife, Mello?" Matt's heart was pounding, his breath emerging in ragged pants. It was difficult to swallow with his neck stretched and so the metallic taste lingered on his tongue.

"It's against your back, guapo." Mello grinned, manically. "Don't fall now."

Matt bit his lip and smiled. "You're good. You're really fucking good."

"Meaning?" Mello licked his lover's chin. "I still have the ability to scare the shit out of you and make you wonder what's coming next."

Matt hesitated, then smirked. "Yes."

"Oh good." Mello released his hair and kicked the legs from under him. Matt careered down onto the carpet, more winded than hurt, staring back startled. Mello was over him swiftly, dropping to his knees and pointing with his knife. "'I am athirst for thy beauty; I am hungry for thy body; and neither wine nor apples can appease my desire. What shall I do now, Iokanaan?'" The blond laughed, extending a finger to draw patterns in the blood on Matt's chest, dripping more of his own to join the palette. "'I was chaste, and thou didst fill my veins with fire.'"

Matt laughed. It was a nervous laugh, but he didn't know what else to do. His whole body craved the touch of his blond tormentor; yet Mello still had the mental capacity to be quoting classic literature at him. "Ok, I surrender. Your skulls aren't tacky. Fuck me."

Mello grinned. "All in good time, baby. All in good time."

"Mello. The time is now. Fuck me."

The blond trailed a finger up, along Matt's breastbone and to his throat, up beneath his chin and into his mouth. Their mingled blood transferred from it to his tongue again. Mello gaze seemed distant, hypnotic, then he beamed, suddenly brightening. "Ok!"

"Ok?" Matt gasped. "You cut me the fuck up, half-strip me off, knock me to the floor and then you just say, 'ok'?"

"Yeah." Mello stood, smirking, shedding his own clothes with a feline grace. "I really do know my man." His gaze travelled the length of Matt's prone body and back. He chuckled, smugly pleased with himself. "Absolutely gagging for it, aren't you?" Before Matt could respond, Mello swooped down onto him again. He pulled the jeans from Matt's backside, then yanked until they were clear of his legs. The boxers followed quickly on, Mello's tongue slithering out at the sight of the erection it revealed. "Oh, baby. I could eat you alive."

"I..." But before Matt got any further, Mello was on top of him; mouth over his, crushing their bodies together. They rolled, across the aisle, crashing into another bookcase. Another skull toppled down, narrowly missing their heads, before bouncing across into the skirting board. "Mihael! You're a fucking maniac!"

Mello nodded, seeing nothing wrong with that statement. "I am." He kneeled, straddling Matt, half-leaning against a shelf full of books on mysticism. The knife was still in his left hand and Mello took it to his own chest, slashing in a cross. Its arms stretched from nipple to nipple, its staff from breastbone to navel. It immediately bubbled red, but the blond threw himself down onto Matt again, slithering over him until both bodies were stained with their own and each other's blood. "You love it."

"Yes." Matt saw no point in lying, not when Mello was grinding their sex together and the urgency rose as a moan within him. "Oh, for God's sake..." Mello kissed him again. It was difficult to tell where the pain ended and pleasure began; that all encompassing sensation that lifted him floating, dazed and hungry, clutching at the Slav's back with a ferocity which must surely be hurting him too, but Mello kept on kissing him, rolling them over again. He stopped and rose in the same movement, as lithe as a tiger, lifting Matt's legs, cutting and kissing the back of his thighs. Matt held them back, groaning as Mello's weight fell against them, pressing against new wounds, forcing his tendons further back. There was lubrication and Matt never knew if it was pre-cum or blood, but he could guess; then Mello was inside him, roughly thrusting, and it felt like a thousand beautiful deaths. Matt shrieked out. "Yes! Mello! God yes! Mello!"

Mello laughed and threw the knife away from them. It clattered against the wall, but fell harmlessly near the section dedicated to metaphysics. He reached around to slide his hands under Matt's shoulders, bracing his forearms against him. The redhead was crushed against him, impaled over and over again, until their sweat ran in rivelets, mingling with the blood that seeped and stained their writhing flesh. When Matt came, it was with a shuddering gasp, his mouth open wide in a silent scream. Mello saw it; it urged him on, enrapt in his own frenzy, shouting out as he ejaculated, hot, deep inside his lover. "Fuck! Yes! Matty!" He plunged on until he was truly spent, then collapsed on top of the redhead.

Matt held him. They lay still until their lungs steadied and the air dried the heat from their bodies. Before the chemicals could dip, and the stinging from their lacerations begin, Mello rose up onto his elbows and smiled down at the bloodied man beneath him. Matt bobbed his tongue out. "That was pwnage, Mello. For the record."

"I aim to please." Mello winked. "I think you're bleeding, Matt."

The redhead snorted. "Yes, I think it's safe to say I am." His grin grew wider. "I love how you stopped coming out with literature halfway through. Lost the ability to think, angel?"

"Never."

"I think 'yes'." Matt drew him down into lingering kiss. "And, Mell? You want any more help shifting furnitue and you just ask. Ok? Ready, willing, any time. Oh yes. Any time."

"Oh Matty." Mello smiled. "'You must thank your own worth for what I grew to be, for the demon lurked under the angel in me.'"

Matt traced the lines of Mello's lips with blood from his body. "Good." And he kissed him.