Reunited. [ Active ]

[nicotinic.livejournal.com]

Character(s): Mello (chocolatefetish) and Matt (nicotinic).
Content: Matt shows up in Paixao with no idea as to what's going on, Mello comes to fetch him and explain. Hopefully.
Setting: At one of the cafe's close to the Vanaheim Gate.
Time: The afternoon of July 25th.
Warnings: They both have foul vocabulary, I'm sure. And later comments are definitely not appropriate for younger viewers♥

Matt poked at his journal a bit, lacking in things to be occupied with. Turning it over in his hands, he narrowed his eyes a little, evidently trying to see if he could get it apart without tools. Realizing, unfortunately, that there wasn't any possible way for him to, he turned it face up to look at the screen and see if there was anything from Mello. Noticing that was, in fact, negative, he flipped it over.

Leaning back in the chair, balancing it on its back two legs, he rocked back and forth on it. He seriously hoped he didn't fall. Dead again after two minutes of being alive; that'd take some real skill. Either way, he continued to move, back and forth, lazy rocking. It kept him entertained for all of five seconds before he stopped, checking the journal again before writing a response -- noticing his hands were shaking already from lack of nicotine -- and dropping it back to the table, leaning in to balance his chair again.

As he waited for Mello, he motioned the waitress over, ordering some baby tea; half tea, half milk, and lots of sugar. Debating on getting something for Mello, he thought about it for a moment before requesting a milkshake; chocolate, of course.

He just hoped the idiot would show up soon. Impatient much?

Comments

[chocolatefetish.livejournal.com]

Mello wasn't quite sure what to make of Matt's sudden fondness for displays of affection as well as lust, but he wasn't complaining. He'd missed him a hell of a lot, too, and he still had nightmares about his death, ones in which he was there, trying to protect him, but all the bullets just passed through Mello and hit Matt anyway. He shuddered and tried not to think about it. Matt had died, but he was right here, and his hand was warm and solid in Mello's own. That was more real than the past, however many nightmares he had.

Once they were in the alley, he pushed Matt against the wall and kissed him, rough and desperate, a kiss born of the emotional storm within, so much it didn't seem one person could contain it all. Lust mixed with caring blended with happiness to see him shaded with guilt, all swirling inside with more Mello couldn't even name and didn't try. He didn't want to talk about it and doubted he could really put it into words anyway. Mello had always been better at expressing himself through actions.

[nicotinic.livejournal.com]

Reaching the alleyway was one of the biggest relief's Matt had ever felt, although the emotion was soon gone when Mello's mouth crashed against his own. Arms slid around his waist, holding him as close as Matt possibly could, practically clinging to him, trying to hold him. Matt could feel the emotion surging from Mello's kiss, pouring out of one and into the other. Tightening his arms around him, one hand worked up over his back, rubbing it gently, trying to keep him calm. He had no idea how long it had been between dying and showing up in the city; he had no sense of time where ever he had gone, but he'd missed Mello. And finding out that he'd died -- practically alone, since that bitch didn't count for shit -- made Matt feel even more guilty. The returned kiss raged with just as much emotion as Mello's had. Regret and nostalgia, and apologies that might never be said. He needed Mello so much right then; more than he ever had before, not just in the sense where he was horny as hell, but more so just having him close like that.

Hands slowly slid back to Mello's hips, fingers digging in and pulling him closer, pressing flush against him. Hand slid around from his hip (he couldn't seem to keep still) brushing over his stomach again, trailing a little lower, finally, palm brushing against the strained leather. A small moan escaped when feeling it, lost in the kiss.