Probably Chapter 10

Tatting with the sequel to Ghosting the Street. Don't get too excited. I haven't found the story yet. Then again, I still haven't found the story for The Mello Code, and that feels a little after the fact. Being experimental with this one. Probably. Ish. Who am I kidding? It's all down to whatever Mello decides he wants. Sod all ever to do with me.

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mrsj
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Probably Chapter 10

Postby mrsj » June 9th, 2016, 5:56 pm

I was just tatting with this. It was never meant to be part of a novel, but Ethereality this morning said something which kickstarted a whole chain of ideas in my head, which exploded into the shape of an actual novel. So this is now part of it.

When Renchan read it yesterday, she said, "Reads like I've just been chucked into about chapter 10 of a novel without any context to it." Better make this chapter 10 then. Coz YOLO.


Chapter Ten(-chan)

Matt wasn't technically permitted to leave the house this far without Mello's express approval. Though precedent had set Mello's knowledge of the fact as a decent substitute for permission. A well timed text could get him hours away in all due regard for his contract and his master.

Long established rule enshrined it was ok to just nip to the shops for milk or something. Matt stood in the street outside the concert hall, watching crowds meader beneath a towering poster overhanging the entrance steps. He made a mental note to buy some milk to take home before he left Edinburgh. Mello would be waking up in some hotel in Thailand any time now. Paranoid bastard checking the GPS tracker lodged in his submissive's jacket collar. Erstwhile there any way. Unfortunately cats. One cat. Nikola wandering all over the house searching the treats that Matt had hidden. Confusing Mello with so much activity assumed to be his husband on the prowl. Cat door locked. And cats slept much of the time, which was more like Matt.

An uneasiness pricking for a goodly time finally made its aspect felt through the smugness of Matt's scheming. "Oh for fuck's sake." He mouthed and took out his phone. Texted his Lord and lover. "Gone to Scotland for milk. Location chip accidentally attached to Tesla Cat's collar." Then switched his phone off and shoved it in his pocket. Duty done. Need for repression appeased. Now time to enjoy the show.

Shuffling with the crowd, hands pressed deep inside his pocket. Ticket ripped and onwards to security. They were patting everyone down, men for men, women for women. "Mierda." Matt stood eyeball to eyeball in front of one. Well, stares meeting as long as he tipped his head a depressing degree back. The goon reaching in. "No thank you." He informed the bouncer. Which seemed met with some confusion.

"Pockets." The big man ordered. No context. No degree for action.

Matt stood his ground - holding up the queue to irritated mutters and a 'fucking get on with it!' from behind - stepping back himself as a chunky hand reached in with a view to briskly touching. "I do not give you permission to lay a hand on me. But thank you for the offer." Gayest smile he could muster, eyes passing over a bulging muscle bicep clad in a skin-tight sweater. "Might have been worth. But no." And he side-stepped the bouncer to wide-eyed interest from everyone around.

One wise boy gaping incredulity. "Is that allowed? Fuck! Can we tell them no?"

"Hey! Hey!" Three more bouncers on Matt, one pushing him into the wall.

Matt flinched back from inclination; concern for this compounding his decidedly pisstaking stretch of the contracts edict (including rendering himsself deliberately outside his husband's immediate ability to initiate contact); and adherrence to his stated path in meeting unwarranted pat downs and assault with no action that could indicate implicitly or otherwise, his consent in this case. Right there was another bouncer intend upon playing the heavy. Grasping Matt's right hand and twisting its fingers upwards, back and twisted around. Manhandling him towards wherever they thought he'd allow him to be abducted to. It wasn't fair. He'd barely got through the door - with a legitimate ticket bought and paid for like everyone else - and no fucker was going to believe he hadn't started this.

He sighed, "I have to warn you," Matt yelled over the din. "I don't want you getting hurt." The bouncer laughed, poor fucker. Matt recalled in a sudden flash another doorman laughing like that; and the redhead getting to properly witness the unbridled violence of his psycho Slav protector not at all holding back. Put into perspective what happened in their bedroom in fun. Which was why Mello was not going to find out about that.

Honesty. Fucked. Capoeira then. Bit rusty, but YOLO. He was already inside an office space, door ajar and not a whole lot of room for kicking. Another bouncer bustling in, all brisk efficiency. "Right, what's your problem, mate?"

"I don't legally have to imply permission for assault with possible sexual overtones." They looked thoroughly confused. Matt indicated his jeans pockets. "You were going to pat me down there. I don't have to let you."

"Private property, mate."

"I still don't have to let you." Matt sneered his attempt to follow that weird ass logic. He had to check. "So like, do you think if you raped a girl in the street..."

"What?!"

"... it's illegal, but not if you manage to get her into your house first?"

They clearly both thought him a complete imbecile. They were wrong. One counter-asked a question. "Are you selling drugs?"

"Don't have to answer that either. But no." Matt smirked. "I can be nice, see? Meet you halfway."

The two bouncers looked at each other. The older, more managerial seeming one, bristled his annoyance, yet answered with a compromise of his own. "Can't be fucking arsed with this. Too much to do and watch." He gestured towards the door. "Go on, just carry on through." But they hadn't moved. Matt would be forced to push on through.

In for a penny. "I cannot squeeze between you. One of you will have to shift."

"You what mate?"

Then because it had never happened before out in the wild and he was going to be word perfect, his gloved hand in his gillet pocket found the on switch on his phone, and speed dialled jetlagged, just waking up Mello. In as soon as the felt the call connect. "I am a collared submissive. I am not at liberty to offer any part of my body to enter into contact with yours without my Master's say-so." Eyeing the boss, who looked just about ready to hit him. "I don't own them."

Boss man snarling sounds without linguistic sentience, stalking out, leaving room enough for three submissives dancing the fandango without so much as a skin cell connecting with a stranger. Matt skirted the other with a wide margin and rejoined the slipsteam of the crowd. Whereupon he'd be heading to the mosh pit, where his bartered, sold and enslaved form would be colliding with any number of unsanctioned others.

Earpiece in. "Sorry, last minute..."

"Situation, Mail." Lazy diction masking the coiling in readiness to strike. 'Ouch', thought Matt. Wondering if he should be worried. "Where are you?"

"Concert I wanted to see."

"Southampton?"

"Scotland." Silence. Matt listened. He was so fucked.

Tightly furious diction uttered fortunately half a world away. "And who have you gone to see?"

Matt smiled, seeing the size of this unfurling. "Rare British concert. Doing Edinburgh."

Hearing the hissing of his unimpressed spouse. "I said who, not where. Which band?"

"Singer." Matt cut to the chase. "Misa Amane." And silence hung on the line in hearing. "About time someone came to see her."

Mello's breathing a tell that he was trying out a series of response inside that gorgeous head. Settling upon, "Go home. Go home now." Ire lost to shock. Mello scrambling to regain the upper edge. "I'm not messing about here. Not with this one. Get out of there. Into your car. Call me when you get there." Mello never really pulled rank like this. It was a bit shocking to hear, to be truthful. Not on something not involving sex. Matt tensed now too, wanting to rebel. Wanting Mello to tell him all was fine, really. He wasn't going to be this petty. "That is a direct order, Emilio. You either move to my bidding or we re-evaluate some key aspects of our relationship. You really won't like that one bit."

Bits inside him caving in that had felt stabilized for years and in the process of him learning that it would remain unquestionably so "Knew it."

"Stop with the stalling and the poor me. I want to hear you walking out. What's the hold up? Tell me." Dangerous that tone with points enough to stab.

"Watari."

"Over-ruled."

"Veto. I withdraw my consent in this instant, Sir."

Both silent then. First time he'd ever used that get out in the small print of their sexual code. Mello seeming quite stunned by it. Slipping incredulous into camp best friend when he needed to be master. "Really? Oh my God! Shit, I'm going to have to look up what happens next, coz I only read it once, when we agreed it." A weird breathing laugh. "A rustling and not a small portion of frenzied hunting. Mello reading. "Ok." He drawled. Obviously reading the next aloud from the text. "I have to warn you that this isn't playing. It isn't a game. I am your Master and I will listen, consider and conclude, but I will not treat it as something to be switched off and on again at will." Skim-reading the irrelevent rest to himself. "Off record because I know you. Think whether this is worth this, and ensure that it's not just tantrum." A heavy breath, which caught and then again without words. Before they finally came. "Saying this as your oldest friend and life-long companion. "Don't fuck yourself over. You know you need this."

"She killed Wammy." Matt after an age announced. "And got away with it." Blank emotion smoothing his features, ice doing the rest. "She got away with so much murder."

Mello quietly prompting. "So what would you do if I let you stay?"

Matt grasped the steel hard around his heart. Softly speaking to his love. "Wish you'd done it sooner." And dropped into the porcelain hand basin, a worn, beloved aluminium circlet, gaping wide and off his neck.

"Oh Mail." Mello whispered, heart quietly breaking for him. They both just stood there. Matt's two fingers still touching the sub. collar. "Impressive that you just broke the code. Just like that." Nothing. Matt pure ice now, Wammy kid ready to win. "Ok, baby. Put it back on. We'll have time out. Discuss it when I'm back. Heal your heart."

"No, Mello." Matt dropped his phone inside the bowl, it slipping tthrough the smallish collar. Far smaller than he'd ever really considered. "This time, I'll do it my own way." And marched on out to the toilet door and into the press of crowd beyond.
:SNES: :SNES: :SNES: :SNES: :mario: :SNES: :SNES: :SNES: :SNES:

2 Secs... let me just get this level...
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amaryllis
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Re: Probably Chapter 10

Postby amaryllis » June 9th, 2016, 7:06 pm

Noooooo, Matty. No.
Idealism sits in prison
Chivalry fell on his sword
Innocence died screaming
Honey, ask me, I should know
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lua
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Re: Probably Chapter 10

Postby lua » June 9th, 2016, 8:09 pm

still loving this <3
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MelMat
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Re: Probably Chapter 10

Postby MelMat » June 20th, 2016, 10:52 pm

Oh, there is a part of me that LOVES Matt's defiance with the collar BUT my inner Mello will NOT stop screaming. *sighs* Yeah, not cool Matt. Not cool.
"I'll live my own way." - Mello
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BrokenBoss
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Re: Probably Chapter 10

Postby BrokenBoss » June 22nd, 2016, 4:28 am

*strolls in here a million years late but...*

""Singer." Matt cut to the chase. "Misa Amane.""

I yelled. So loud.

Fuck? Fuck! Shit fuck what no????????? :o

I?????


WHAT?

AHHHHHHH MATTI!!!

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