He hadn't thought this through past getting into a room so he didn't really care when the door shut and they continued, not even looking for the bed he assumed should probably be there. Mello wasn't sure when he'd realized how much he'd missed this--sometime between that first touch and the kiss--but now he couldn't take his hands off Matt's body,
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He pounded it back into Mello, not caring if the collar hurt or if he hurt shoving into him. The act of carelessness followed every other path he'd taken. It was ridiculous to be here, like this, but that didn't matter. The table mattered, pushed with each thrust, his hand catching at the edge as he smacked the other man into it again again again. Mello's hands were on him and he loved how they felt pulling him apart while he was too busy to do anything about it.
He barely paid attention to his name. It was the man's body that kept pushing at him, shoving against his, bringing him deeper into him and he didn't know how long he could stand this. He let go of Mello's collar and his hand was slick with blood that he smeared into the man's blond hair as he fisted it instead to kiss him again, his tongue swiping over the man's lips to push into his mouth and the threat of death was already nonexistent because he couldn't hold on to anything but how Mello felt bucking against him.
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Mello screamed right into Matt's mouth when he came, digging his heels into Matt's skin hard enough to bruise as he tightened his legs, scratching bloody marks into his shoulders.
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He let go of the collar then, slowly, his fingers aching from gripping it so hard.
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Panting heavily, Mello let himself down slowly to lay on the table when Matt let him go. The collar had unlocked and loosened, but he didn't have the wits about him to take it off, focusing only on breathing for the moment, and on the way his body still felt alight with sensation. It was less intense now though, like echoes through his nerves. It felt like floating, yet the cool wood against his bare back was grounding at the same time, and it was nice. He seemed to have forgotten all about the fact he was still bleeding and his skin was filthy with it.
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It was another dream. This was a partial reality and each moment that he was caught in another whirlwind it felt like he was capable of recognizing himself less after.
But this recognition was something else. "I think we're getting better at saying hello," he mentioned, looking around as if he would somehow magically find a cigarette waiting for him to take. It wasn't there and his eyes went down to Mello instead. "Or else the hotel is getting better at getting a reaction from us." He didn't like to think that was it, the hotel got too much credit for things already. "Your neck looks like murder."
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"Hello," he drawled breathlessly, reaching up slowly with one blood smeared hand with the intent to touch Matt's face. It didn't work. Apparently, his depth perception was currently shot and Mello just let his hand fall with a thump onto the table again, panting shallowly.
Oh, yeah. His neck. Strange how he'd forgotten when the blood was everywhere, sticky beneath the backs of his shoulders and the table.
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"Where are my pants?" Pants meant cigarettes which is what he needed right now, pushing absently at his hair while looking around the room. He wanted to slump on the couch with a cigarette but he doubted he would if Mello was going to stay strewn on the table like that.
Spotting his pants, he walked across the room and swiped them off the ground to free the carton and lighter from his pocket and then let the pants fall back at his feet. "Come sit down with me over there," he said, not gesturing a location but figuring Mello wasn't paying attention anyway. He lit up on his way back, trying to gauge the damage on the man's neck. He figured he'd live.
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Kissing was nice. Letting out a breath of a whine when it was over, Mello blinked up at Matt one moment and the ceiling the next, realizing he'd disappeared and remembering to turn his head only after Matt spoke. "Fuck if I know," Mello muttered, but by then Matt had already found his pants.
He was still working his way back to something coherent, an existence that involved more than laying here thinking the lights made Matt's messy hair pretty. He was smeared with blood too, sticky trails of it down his chest from Mello.
"Nnn... no. Too far." He was content laying here and exhaled slowly, pushing the palms of his hands flat against the wood at his side because it felt cool against his skin and his body seemed confused between whether it was hot or cold still. Mello didn't mind. He still felt satisfied and pleasantly blank.
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The pack was set next to Mello's leg and he stood beside him smoking for a moment while he considered the pros and cons of moving on the table. It didn't look stable enough for him to throw himself on top of the other man and after a moment he just shrugged to himself and reached up to touch the collar he'd almost forgotten he was still wearing. Pulling it off meant throwing it on the ground toward Mello's and he slid down to the ground beside the table, staring at the carpet.
"So what's been happening? I can't remember how long it's been since we bumped into each other." Time seemed to lose form here, it pushed borders of the human mind and he was sure he'd lived years here at times, and in a way he had, but the actual time between when he'd first shown up and now didn't seem as impressive.
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"Dunno," he muttered, trying to remember what Matt was referring to. "Nothing much." That just meant he couldn't remember and didn't care right now to try harder. "You?"
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He shifted back to rest against one of the table's legs and his head hit back against it, watching his bare legs and then reaching up to knock on the underside of the table where he thought Mello's head must be. "I saved the world though and became God. Then I made a deal with the corporate world so that I could recreate technology and ended up stealing it and leaving everyone in the dark ages so that they were forced to come after me and fight in like. Mortal Kombat like games in order to try to win it back."
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"Did not," he argued, trying against turn over and finally managing to prop himself up slightly on his side, one arm dangling down over the edge of the table near Matt, but only half trying to reach him. "Stop saying stupid things."
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Years, if he counted those interwoven lives he seemed to always be walking through. "It could have happened though." The suggestion trailed off and it had been pointless to begin with but most words were.
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Well, almost. "I'm cold," he muttered, wiggling his fingers at Matt for attention.
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He stepped back. "I'm going to see if there are any bandages around here first."
The room was unfamiliar but he headed for the bathroom first anyway. It figured Mello would lay there and bleed to death but he didn't try to talk the man into following him to the bathroom. He stared at his reflection once he was there, naked skin stained with Mello's blood, and he was thinking of other things too, juggling thoughts, and then they were all pushed away as he rifled through the drawers for something useful.
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