Confession, Rent, Mark/Roger, PG
Title: Confession
Fandom: Rent
Pairing: Mark/Roger
Rating: PG
Word Count: 575
Notes: Whoa, two in two days. For letter_love. All kinds of schmoop and sap. That is clearly Lee's fault. As is everything.
The words come from nowhere, or so it seems as the friendly shoving turns into kissing that will turn into groping and more, like it does with more and more frequency lately. And Roger has him pinned against the couch and they’re grinning between kisses, and Roger’s laughing because Mark is still trying to throw him off, but only half-heartedly, and Mark’s thinking how strange it is that it’s when they’re pressed close like this that he finds it easiest to breathe.
“Hey,” Roger says against his lips.
“Hey what?”
Roger’s fingers are tracing against his cheek, and he leans his forehead down to Mark’s their faces so close that they can’t even see each other, but that doesn’t stop Mark from knowing the way Roger’s lips are curled and where the lines around his eyes appear as he smiles and every spot in the constellation of freckles across his nose.
“I love you,” Roger says.
What surprises Mark the most is his inability to say absolutely anything in response. They haven’t talked about this, which is odd given their predilection for psychoanalysis, but just let it occur and exist. And now Roger is taking that step, giving it a name, one that Mark had hardly expected, which is foolish because what else could it be?
“Wow,” Mark says finally and Roger must hear the doubt in his voice and rushes to cut him off.
“No, it’s okay. Don’t.”
But Mark has to because if they don’t do this now, they might not get another chance. “Is that what this is? I mean, I thought we were just…”
“Come on, Mark. We’re too old to be experimenting.”
Despite the fact that this feels like an argument, like something that can only end badly, they’re still pressed flush together, touching each other’s faces, lips nipping gently at each other between words. They never did play by the rules.
“You’re twenty-three. You’re not old.”
“I’m middle-aged,” Roger tells Mark’s temple.
“Shut up,” Mark says, turning his face away from the words he hates to hear.
“I love you,” Roger says again, right in his ear. “It’s probably the one thing I’ve never said enough in my life. And I want you to know. And,” he adds, “it has nothing to do with this.”
Mark turns back and looks up at him. There’s no need to explain what he means by “this” with Roger’s fingers skimming his stomach beneath his shirt and Roger’s lips brushing his throat.
Mark’s fingers catch Roger’s stubbled chin and pull him back to meet his eyes. Roger matches his gaze without worry, without regret, without expectations.
And Mark doesn’t say it because the words feel cheapened on his tongue as if it’s a matter of not letting Roger outdo him. So he stores the words away even though he feels them and has felt them for almost as long as they’ve been living together. He leans up and captures Roger’s mouth with his own, and Roger holds his face between his palms. When they part, Roger tucks his head in Mark’s neck and curls their fingers together, seemingly content when Mark knows he shouldn’t be based on the rules or Every Relationship Mark Has Had Ever.
“I…”
“Don’t. You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
“I know,” Roger says and brings their entwined fingers to his lips, kissing Mark’s knuckles. “And that’s enough.”
Fandom: Rent
Pairing: Mark/Roger
Rating: PG
Word Count: 575
Notes: Whoa, two in two days. For letter_love. All kinds of schmoop and sap. That is clearly Lee's fault. As is everything.
The words come from nowhere, or so it seems as the friendly shoving turns into kissing that will turn into groping and more, like it does with more and more frequency lately. And Roger has him pinned against the couch and they’re grinning between kisses, and Roger’s laughing because Mark is still trying to throw him off, but only half-heartedly, and Mark’s thinking how strange it is that it’s when they’re pressed close like this that he finds it easiest to breathe.
“Hey,” Roger says against his lips.
“Hey what?”
Roger’s fingers are tracing against his cheek, and he leans his forehead down to Mark’s their faces so close that they can’t even see each other, but that doesn’t stop Mark from knowing the way Roger’s lips are curled and where the lines around his eyes appear as he smiles and every spot in the constellation of freckles across his nose.
“I love you,” Roger says.
What surprises Mark the most is his inability to say absolutely anything in response. They haven’t talked about this, which is odd given their predilection for psychoanalysis, but just let it occur and exist. And now Roger is taking that step, giving it a name, one that Mark had hardly expected, which is foolish because what else could it be?
“Wow,” Mark says finally and Roger must hear the doubt in his voice and rushes to cut him off.
“No, it’s okay. Don’t.”
But Mark has to because if they don’t do this now, they might not get another chance. “Is that what this is? I mean, I thought we were just…”
“Come on, Mark. We’re too old to be experimenting.”
Despite the fact that this feels like an argument, like something that can only end badly, they’re still pressed flush together, touching each other’s faces, lips nipping gently at each other between words. They never did play by the rules.
“You’re twenty-three. You’re not old.”
“I’m middle-aged,” Roger tells Mark’s temple.
“Shut up,” Mark says, turning his face away from the words he hates to hear.
“I love you,” Roger says again, right in his ear. “It’s probably the one thing I’ve never said enough in my life. And I want you to know. And,” he adds, “it has nothing to do with this.”
Mark turns back and looks up at him. There’s no need to explain what he means by “this” with Roger’s fingers skimming his stomach beneath his shirt and Roger’s lips brushing his throat.
Mark’s fingers catch Roger’s stubbled chin and pull him back to meet his eyes. Roger matches his gaze without worry, without regret, without expectations.
And Mark doesn’t say it because the words feel cheapened on his tongue as if it’s a matter of not letting Roger outdo him. So he stores the words away even though he feels them and has felt them for almost as long as they’ve been living together. He leans up and captures Roger’s mouth with his own, and Roger holds his face between his palms. When they part, Roger tucks his head in Mark’s neck and curls their fingers together, seemingly content when Mark knows he shouldn’t be based on the rules or Every Relationship Mark Has Had Ever.
“I…”
“Don’t. You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
“I know,” Roger says and brings their entwined fingers to his lips, kissing Mark’s knuckles. “And that’s enough.”