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“Mel, could you stop making that noise? I gotta focus on the road.”
Matt’s gloved hands squeak as they tighten on the wheel. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into Mello today, but he’s like a cat in fucking heat. Sometime between the last rest stop and now, he’s decided that he’s horny as a dolphin on viagra. At present moment, he’s noisily sucking his fingers clean of the melted chocolate he’s smeared on them.
“Then focus.”
Mello, naturally, is bitchy as ever. Just annoyed he isn’t getting enough attention, no doubt. His seatbelt long since undone, he’s stretched out across the backseat as they speed down the highway.
“Perhaps it’s a bit hot to be eating that right now,” Near says from the front seat, winding a strand of hair around his finger and carefully not looking Mello’s way.
Even with the AC on, it’s muggy in Nevada. They won’t be at their destination for another several hours. That hasn’t stopped Mello from messily eating his favorite treat anyway, regularly fishing fresh bars out of the cooler on the floor.
“Perhaps it’s shut the fuck up o’clock,” Mello shoots back, though there’s no venom in it. They’ve been working together for a couple years, which has greatly cut back on the amount of hostility Mello and Near share. It’s still not gone — an insecurity complex as big as Mello’s doesn’t vanish overnight, after all — but, well.
There are a few other reasons why they’re getting along better these days, too.
Mello finishes off his most recent chocolate bar by licking the melted bits from inside the wrapper. When he tosses the soiled, soggy paper out the window, Near flinches.
“Littering is—”
“Spare me the lecture, Boy Scout.”
With an unbothered exhale, Mello settles down deeper into the backseat. Matt keeps his eyes glued on the road as much as he can, but when he next glances into the rearview mirror, he catches sight of Mello dragging down his vest’s zipper.
“Mello—”
“Fuck off, it’s hot,” Mello says, shrugging out of the vest and tossing it to the floor. His rosary lays on his thin chest, just between two perky pecs with pretty pink nipples.
Ah, fuck. Road, road, road, road—
Matt and Near share a glance, but otherwise say nothing as tiny sounds start to drift up from the backseat. Near fiddles with a Transformer in his lap, one-handedly changing it from truck form to robot form over and over.
“You know,” Matt says after a soft moan wafts through the heat-thick air. “That’s probably not gonna make you any cooler.”
“Then pull over somewhere,” Mello says. Matt glances up to see him palming himself through his leather pants.
“Mel, there’s no fucking rest stop for another 20 miles,” Matt says, irritated. “I’m not parking somewhere where people are gonna think we’re broken down and stop to help us.”
“That’s too bad,” Mello says, and his voice is breathy and sinful as he grinds the heel of his hand into his crotch.
Matt growls and fishes a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket, putting it between his lips. He holds out a hand, and Near places a lighter in his palm. Quickly lighting up, Matt opens the window a few inches, watching the way it displaces Mello’s pretty hair in the backseat.
The nicotine helps for a minute or two. So does the rushing of the air beside his head, which muffles some of Mello’s noises.
Until he gets louder to compensate for it.
“Near…”
Matt’s eye twitches. He doesn’t have Mello’s “must be number one” complex, but hearing him say Near’s name first is its own brand of irritating. Mello probably knows that, which has to be why he did it.
“Yes, Mello…?”
“Come back here with me.” It’s a little whiny, a little needy. “Play with me, I’m lonely.”
“I can’t,” Near murmurs, attention focused on his toy. “We’re moving.”
“Pussy.”
“Mello, don’t be a dick,” Matt chides him. “Near’s right. I don’t want people fucking climbing all over the place when I’m trying to drive.”
“You’re a pussy, too.”
Matt flashes him the middle finger and refuses to dignify that with a response. He hears Mello chuckle from behind him.
Things are silent for a while after that, as far as words go. But the sounds… Leather squeaks as Mello continues touching himself through his pants, and he’s not shy about his breathy little moans. Matt can at least take solace in the fact that Near is suffering with him. Near, though, perpetually helpless, can’t drive, so is it really a one-to-one comparison?
He thinks he’s out of the woods when the leather noises stop, but then a glance over at Near’s face tells him he’s wrong. Wide-eyed, cheeks tinged an obvious pink against paper-white skin, Near is staring in one of the mirrors, hands stilled where they sit.
Nope. No. Matt’s not looking. He is staring at the country roads ahead of him. Hey, there’s a cactus. Isn’t that neat?
A moan wafts up from the backseat, and Matt’s foot presses down a little harder on the gas pedal.
“Near,” Mello says again. “Pass me my bag.”
“Do not encourage him,” Matt mutters around what must be his third cigarette, but Near ignores him and grabs a small black bag from the floor of the front seat (there’s plenty of place to store things up there, since Near always has one leg drawn to his chest). He’s such a fucking simp for Mello, it’s unreal.
He passes it back, and Matt catches sight of Mello’s smug little smirk from the rearview mirror. That’s about when Matt notices he’s no longer wearing pants.
Little fucker never wears anything under them, either.
“Thanks, babe,” he says, and leans up to kiss Near on the cheek before plopping back in his seat. Near goes even redder, and Mello snickers. He knows exactly what he does to the poor kid.
There are sounds of Mello fishing around in the bag, then an “Aha!” once he finds what he’s looking for. Matt can’t stop himself from looking in the rearview, where he sees Mello with their travel bottle of lube in his hand.
“Mel, come on—”
“If you’re not gonna help me, well.” Mello flicks the cap open and pours a generous amount on his manicured fingers. “God helps those who help themselves.”
“God help you when I get back there,” Matt mutters, but of course, that only makes Mello chuckle.
“I’m shaking in my $200 boots,” he says. Which he’s still wearing, by the way, despite discarding his pants.
Then he’s on his back again, and Matt watches him shove two fingers inside himself all at once. He tears his eyes off of the mirror just in time to avoid cutting off someone who wants to merge into his lane. Waving at them apologetically, he slows down a little.
Focus, focus. 15-ish minutes til the next exit. You can do this, Matt.
But, god, is it hard to think of anything other than Mello’s soft moans and the slick sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of his asshole. Particularly when he hears his own name spilling from those absolutely fucking awful lips.
He glances at the clock. Thirteen minutes. God, is time frozen or something?
Mello keens, and then, much to Matt and Near’s chagrin, he starts to talk.
“Can’t wait ‘til we’re at the hotel,” he says between pleased little noises. “Gonna fuck the life outta both of you. You better eat me out good, ‘cause I’ve been wanting it bad…”
Matt flicks on the radio and cranks it up. He hears Mello’s indignant little scoff under the dulcet tones of whatever top 40 bullshit is playing.
“Matt, you better turn that stupid shit off—”
Matt ignores him. Listening to vapid lyrics about going to the club and popping your pussy is better than the near-crash experiences he has listening to Mello.
When Matt remains unmoved, Mello turns his attention to Near. Uh-oh.
“Near…” he purrs, and somehow it does still manage to be a purr despite the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the music. “Near, turn the music off. Pleeease.”
Near twitches. Bit by bit, piece by piece, he keeps playing with his toy, robot to truck, truck to robot.
“Oh, Near.” Mello sighs, whimpers. “Near, you feel so good… Baby, make me feel good.”
A quick glance at Near’s lap spells out all that Matt needs to know about his mental state (though the beet-red condition of his face is just as open a book). He’s breaking. Matt knows it. The little fucker could never resist Mello, that’s been true their whole lives.
“I’ll let you fuck me, Near,” Mello says. “You wanna, don’t you? I’m so fucking tight… Want your cock. Gimme your cock, Near…”
Near’s hand flicks out and very nearly slams against the knob to turn the music back off.
Matt shakes and holds the wheel tightly, growling at the smirk he sees in the rearview.
“Mmn, thanks, babe.” Mello braces a boot up against the window, the other one on the floor, legs languidly spread as he fingers himself unhurried. “C’mon, come sit with me… I’ll suck you off.”
There’s a tiny snap as Near’s fingers break the head off his Transformer.
Mello laughs breathlessly. Matt checks the clock. Nine minutes.
Fuck.
It’s some small comfort that the windows of Matt’s car are tinted a little bit darker than the legal limit. No one else will be able to look in and see the heavenly sight spread out behind him, unless they happen to look directly through Matt’s cracked window. Mello sure does love to show off, which always gets both Matt and Near frustrated. Mello knows, which is why he does it.
“No?” he asks after the silence stretches on too long. “That’s too bad. I’d make it really good for you. Or if you switch with me, Near, I’ll blow Matt while he’s driving.”
“If you’ve got a death wish, don’t drag us down with you,” Matt says, cursing under his breath when he tries and fails to flick on the lighter to ignite another cig. Slamming both cigarette and lighter down into the change holder in the center console, he glances at a sign — Food & Refreshments, Exit 21A.
A quick look at the GPS shows that exit 21A is coming up on them quickly. Not quickly enough, though, Matt thinks. Still have a few miles to go.
“You’re no fun,” Mello huffs. Matt glances up to see him shove a third finger inside himself, hears him moan low and salacious. He reaches down to adjust his pants, cock trapped tight inside them.
Glancing over, he sees Near rifle through the white bag at his feet. He pulls out a fidget cube and starts clicking and twisting it. And, god, he loves the kid, but between the sound of Mello’s moans and the incessant click-click-click of the toy, he’s about to lose it.
“How about we play the Quiet Game?” he asks. “I’ll start.”
Pressing his lips in a thin line, Matt says nothing for a few moments. Predictably, neither Mello nor Near catch on. Granted, he shouldn’t be so hard on Near. He knows Near’s trying as much as he is to center himself in light of Mello’s debauchery. But their very different flavors of neurodivergencies tend to clash during times like these, and, with no cigarette to suck on, Matt finds his fingers twitching on the wheel.
“Okay,” he says when that doesn’t work. “I Spy. Uh, I spy… dirt…”
“That’s not how you play the game,” Near murmurs.
“I spy something white and about to get backhanded.”
“Don’t talk about Mello that way, Matt.”
Oh, the kid’s got jokes, does he? Matt narrows his eyes, abruptly cutting across two lanes to get into the exit lane. A loud, long beep shoots past them from another car, but he pays it no mind as he floors it.
“You can hit me,” Mello says. “If you want. Just make sure you pull my hair, too—”
“Alright, enough!”
The tires screech as he pulls off onto the exit ramp too fast. The blessed fucking holy exit ramp, glory be, Hail Mary full of whatever Mello says sometimes. All occupants of the car jolt as he slams on the brakes when they get to an intersection. He takes a small satisfaction in the way Mello has to flail to keep himself from getting thrown out of his seat.
“That’s why seatbelt safety is important, Me—”
“Shut the fuck up and pull into that Taco Bell.”
Matt doesn’t need to be told twice. The lot is big enough that he can park somewhat out of the way around the back of the building, and it doesn’t appear to be a very busy time of day. Sunset scatters around them, and endless desert stretches out past the few buildings in this desolate area.
Matt puts it into park, rolls the window up, exits the car, slams the door shut, and wrenches the back door open to glare down at Mello.
Mello just gives him that Cheshire Cat grin. “Hey. Fancy seein’ you here.”
“Sit up,” Matt says, muscling his way inside. “Lemme in.”
He catches sight of the way Near watches them with wide eyes, hand unmoving around his toy. Briefly, Near glances back and forth across the parking lot, but nobody is around.
Matt shuts the door after himself, Mello now backed against the opposite one, smirking.
“Little bitch,” is all Matt says before he throws Mello’s leg over his shoulder and shoves his tongue up his ass.
He hears the dull thud of the back of Mello’s head hitting the window, and hopes it stings. The lube tastes like chocolate, because of course it does. Matt doesn’t care. Mello could taste like a blueberry pie or nachos bell grande right now and it wouldn’t change a thing.
The important part is hearing those moans, delicious and desperate. Mello’s fingers tangle in his hair, and Matt growls at the little pinpricks of pain as he tonguefucks his egotistical lover.
“Matt, oh— Fuck yeah,” he moans, heel of his boot digging into Matt’s spine. “Ah, fuck— Fuck— Near, get your skinny ass back here—”
Mello is really in no position to be calling anyone else skinny, Matt thinks, but that’s beside the point. He hears Near stutter, the rhythm of his clicking interrupted.
“S-someone should— keep watch for—”
“I don’t give a fuck if we get caught,” Mello hisses, grinding his hips up into Matt’s face. “You’re both gonna fuck me, now.”
And, well.
Who in their right mind could say no to that?
There’s a pause, the tiny clack of Near setting his fidget cube down on the dashboard, and then he’s climbing into the backseat. Matt sits up, panting, face streaked with lube, to make room for him.
Mello is on him immediately, kissing him with tongue, tasting himself and the chocolate lube. Near settles down behind Mello, who doesn’t leave him out for long. He turns and pulls Near into a filthy kiss; Near’s fingers tangle in Mello’s once-tidy blonde locks, twirling a strand around his finger for a moment before Mello pulls back to pant against his lips.
“Both of you,” he says. “I want both of you inside me.”
“You’re the boss, boss,” Matt says as Mello’s hands find his belt, his zipper, yanking his cock out. He lets out a downright embarrassing noise when a lube-slick hand starts to jerk him off.
“Inside of you how…?” Near asks. Through another kiss with Mello, Matt can see Near looking down at Mello’s ass.
“Same hole,” Mello pants against Matt’s lips. “God, I need to be fucking stretched— I feel so fucking empty.”
Both Matt and Near can’t help but moan at the very idea. Near’s is softer, practically a gasp, but Matt is shameless about it. He grabs Mello’s thin waist and adjusts their positions, Mello in the center seat, Matt and Near on either side of him, facing him.
“I’ll— I’ll get in first,” Matt says, “then you, Near.”
Near nods mutely and watches as Mello straddles Matt. The angle is a little awkward, a little cramped, but soon he’s sitting down on Matt’s cock, engulfing it entirely. Matt groans and bucks his hips a few times, but, trying not to be selfish, nods and beckons for Near to join them.
Near spares one last glance out the window, then seems to feel comfortable enough to push down his pajama pants. Matt gropes around on the seat until he finds the lube, tossing it to Near, who nearly fumbles it — that’s right, his depth perception isn’t all that great. Oh well.
The important part is that Near does get slicked up, and he does wind his arms around Mello from behind. Matt grabs his dick to help him line it up, and then he feels him pushing inside right alongside him, Mello so slick but so damn tight.
The noises Mello makes could get the entire world to bow to him, Matt thinks. God. He swallows them up in his kisses, but tries not to be too selfish; Near still deserves to hear what he’s doing to Mello, after all. And Near, he’s panting and mewling, too, so fucking cute. Once they get to the hotel, Matt will have to fuck him, too.
But for now, they have to focus on Mello. Mello, sinful Mello, irritating Mello, with his perfect body and wonderful mind and tight ass gripping both of them so hard Matt fears his dick might snap off.
“Move,” Mello hisses through his teeth.
How can Matt and Near ever deny him?
In seconds, they’re all a writhing, humping mess, windows fogging, car rocking. Near’s face is buried in the crook of Mello’s shoulder, beet red and sweat-slick, and Matt tangles tongues with Mello, Mello’s tongue fucking in and out of his mouth in a crude imitation of what he’s no doubt going to do to him when they get where they’re going.
There’s no way they’ll last long like this. No way that, after all that time, all that anticipation, they can draw this out. It’s a bad place to do that, anyway; it’s not like most people don’t know what a bouncing car means, and unfortunately, public indecency is still a crime in the United States.
That just makes it hotter, Matt thinks. The worry that they’ll be caught. The danger. The thrill. He’s always been a sucker for thrills.
Maybe that’s why it doesn’t take him long to crest to the edge. One hand holding onto the back of the seat, the other gripping Mello’s hip hard enough to bruise, he fucks up into him with as much fervor as he can manage in the position he’s in.
“Mello,” he gasps, “Mello, Mello, Near, Mello, fuck, don’t stop— moving like that, oh fuck— Yeah…!”
“Come in me, that’s right,” Mello murmurs against his spit-shiny lips. “You too, Near. Wanna feel it, wanna feel how fucking hard you get off for me—!”
He whines, and Matt can feel Near’s hand between them, pumping Mello’s cock. Near’s mouth works on Mello’s neck, his shoulder, breathless and drooling. Matt holds out until he feels Mello’s hot cum shoot up, stain his shirt (fuck, it’s a black shirt, fuck, why’d he have to wear that today), Near following quickly after.
That’s all the permission he needs to let himself go, and this time it’s his head smacking hard into the window as he pumps Mello’s ass full of more cum.
They lay there in a pile of breathless limbs for a few minutes.
Then there’s a tap on the window.
Matt plasters his biggest, fakest smile on his face and cracks it just an inch or so, greeting a line-faced deputy with the biggest handlebar mustache he’s ever seen.
“I don’t suppose I can convince you this is fine because we’re working with L?” he asks.
“Sirs, step out of the vehicle,” the cop says, and Matt sighs.
He hopes Near remembers Watari’s number for bail money.