it's passion, it's not love, infatuation never ends up right.
[[from here, private to down_to_nowhere]]
[And Matt moves against Mello, his mouth leaving the blond's and running lips and tongue across his cheek, hot and desperate all at once. He kisses gently down his lover's neck, pausing to run his palms up Mello's back, under the shirt, before moving his face down, kissing softly at the place on his shoulder where he'd dug his nails in earlier. Moaning against the scarred skin, he tries to move them through the room, closer to the bed, before he gives up and lets himself become overwhelmed; Mello could throw him down on the ground right then and there and just take him, and Matt wouldn't push, he wouldn't fight. He wants to make things right; licking across the injured shoulder with the broad of his tongue, he whimpered, so quietly, wanting so badly to set right everything he'd made wrong in the last few minutes or so.]