Oh look! The author's note is in the beginning of the story, something new for me! (It's because I feel like it ruins the mood if my inane babbling is placed here, but there's a reason.)

Um, this is a little bit of a disclaimer, because I've never written anything quite like this story before, so I hope I do ok! And some of my dialogue is probably more than a little anachronistic, but I'm not writing my stories in Shakespearean English, as much as I love reading it. Also, as to Benvolio's character...well, I couldn't resist painting him like this. Hope you guys like!

About the title, it's a kPop song by Narsha, a member of the group Brown Eyed Girls. I don't actually think the title literally translates to anything, but I tried to convey the emotion and the lyrics of the song in this story. The song has a darker, rich, and almost sinister tone, but it's also incredibly sensual and gorgeous. I would highly recommend listening to it on YouTube or something, or the instrumental if you don't want singing, while you read the story, I promise it'll be enjoyable!

Anyways, on to the story! I really hope you guys like it, I've had the idea for a long time.


Bbi Ri Bba Bba

Romeo's voice fades in and out of Mercutio's mind as the wind brushes against his cheek, grass rustling in his ears. As he gazes up at the clouds that roll across the sky in wisps, his friend talks of parties and girls - things that aren't really interesting to Mercutio at the moment because, when he glances away from the sky and towards the Montague mansion, he sees that the window to Benvolio's room is wide open.

The white curtains billow in the breeze, and as Mercutio sits up, completely ignoring Romeo now, he can make out Benvolio's silhouette, dancing as the curtains shift.

He lays back down on the ground and closes his eyes, but his head instantly fills with images of what Benvolio possibly looks like behind those curtains. With a soft sigh he rises, choosing not to think but simply move, stepping carefully as he climbs up the vines that crisscross up to the window. His foot slips at one point and a shoe falls - he can hear Romeo laugh in the distance - but he continues, pulling himself up until his eyes finally spy Benvolio's room.

But it's not Benvolio's room that greets Mercutio, but rather Benvolio's back. Bare back.

Hands pull a shirt over shoulders, sinew and muscles stretching. When the shirt drops to the floor, Mercutio can see the shadow of the hollow of Benvolio's lower back. His heart flips in his chest, almost painfully.

Benvolio's fingers dip underneath the waistband of his pants, tugging them down, and Mercutio loses his footing and falls to the ground.

It takes a few dazed seconds before Mercutio can hear Romeo roaring with laughter in the background. He blinks his eyes open even though the barest movement is painful, but he's glad he does, because he sees Benvolio's eyes look down at him from the window, smirking.

Mercutio wishes those eyes would never leave him.

He feels his shoe land on his stomach and Romeo is bending over him. "Come to our party tonight, he'll be there." Romeo says, a laugh still playing at the edges of his mouth. He pulls Mercutio to his feet, brushes off his shirt, and knocks him lightly on the head for the dumb expression that's on Mercutio's face.

Mercutio laughs, but as they walk back into the house, he glances back up at the balcony.

But Benvolio is gone.


When it's later that night, Mercutio finds himself wringing his cloak in his hands as he thinks about Benvolio.

To call Mercutio crazy would be insane, and to call him obsessed is barely an overstatement. Or maybe it's actually an understatement. There's just something about Benvolio, something Mercutio has never in his life been able to place. That something lets Benvolio crawl under Mercutio's skin, toy with his heart and infiltrate every recess within his mind.

It's really, really stupid. But they're consuming Mercutio, these feelings, and he runs a hand through his hair and frowns, because he looks too much like a madman in his mirror.

Barely a night goes by where Mercutio didn't think of him, doesn't imagine where Benvolio would be sensitive and writhe under his touch, or what his voice would sound like when Mercutio dips his hands down his spine, or-

Mercutio's mouth is getting dry as his mind drifts, and he suddenly realises it's getting late and he has only succeeded in wrinkling his cloak in his hands.

Mercutio stares himself down in the mirror. He opens his mouth (most likely to say something along the lines of 'Benvolio would you care to dance?') but feels like a fool.

He snaps his mask on his face and bounds out the door.

The Montagues know how to throw a party - it's obvious at the amount of people attending, but as Mercutio barely succeeds in waving off yet another girl, he becomes irritated.

Romeo abandons him at the door (so much for loyalty among brothers) and so now he leans against a wall, trying to avoid the masses. He runs through a mental checklist of possible actions he could now take (like 'find Benvolio and get a drink', 'find Benvolio and make him dance', or 'find Benvolio and find a closet').

Deciding he was doomed forever, he slumps against the wall.

And then the couple in front of him moves and stops blocking his view, and he sees Benvolio and some girl laughing across the hall.

Benvolio's curly hair falls across his forehead and his eyes as he blinks at the girl, and Mercutio's stomach lurches, mostly because of the expression on the girl's face, one of delight and amusement. She's leaning into Benvolio, and even though he isn't returning the action, he certainly isn't leaning away. Mercutio's filled with childish desires like the need to shove the two of them apart, but he knows going anywhere near Benvolio right now would result in him doing something ridiculous, like kissing the man, or something.

Benvolio whispers something and the girl laughs. He tucks a sickeningly perfect strand of hair behind her ear and she tugs on his sleeve, pulling them towards the stairs.

Jealousy makes Mercutio's hands shake - why wasn't Benvolio pushing her away - but he can't look away as he watches the pair giggle their way up the stairs.

Just like he couldn't look away, Mercutio can't help but follow them up the steps, taking care to stay far enough behind so as not to be seen. When he reaches the top of the stairs though, he loses sight of them.

He glances down the hall for a moment, and finds Benvolio's room, which appears to be empty. He's barely stepped into the room when he hears a loud giggle come from the hall, moving closer.

Panicking, Mercutio ducks into Benvolio's closet.

Probably not the brightest idea, he thinks as he cramps himself as far back as possible (which isn't very far).

The closet door is cracked a little, allowing him to see the couple stumble into the room. The girl's obviously drunk and Benvolio seems lucid (although Mercutio has never been able to tell what Benvolio's really feeling), but he laughs along with her and holds onto her arm, steadying her into his chest.

Mercutio clenches his eyes shut, but he can still hear their voices. Of course following the pair was an awful idea, and Mercutio silently berates himself. He wants to punch something or really just run away as the girl tells Benvolio how "Oh, how amazing you are Benvolio. Why, it's just that no one else listens to me. Not like you do."

That's just who he is, you stupid girl. Mercutio thinks to himself, wishing he could move his arms so he could close his ears as well. 'He'll listen to anyone.'

They continue to talk for a few minutes, the girl drunkenly gushing with a level of affection that makes Mercutio want to vomit, and Benvolio...Benvolio just listens. He never says anything more than a 'thank you'.

Mercutio's mask grows hotter and more unbearable as the minutes pass. He wants to rip it off his face, but he wants to rip those two away from each other even more.

Mercutio thought that when the talking faltered to a silence, the two had finally left, but he opens up his eyes just in time to see Benvolio brush a finger across the girl's cheek and pull her in to a kiss. Mercutio freezes, eyes wide. Benvolio's shirt is loose, and the girl's dress has been hiked up just far enough so that-

Mercutio manages to quickly shut his eyes again, but not before the image before him is burned onto his retinas. The image of Benvolio's hand slowly dragging it's way up the girl's thigh, and the girl's fingers twisted in Benvolio's hair. A wave of nausea hits him, and it's only a few seconds before he starts to feel dizzy. Mercutio instinctively puts a hand out to catch himself.

And, of course, knocks his hand into the closet door in the process.

His lungs are burning for air but he doesn't dare breathe. Or open his eyes. He has that childish fantasy that maybe if he clenches his eyes shut tight enough, everything around him would just go away.

He hears shuffling from the other side of the closet, and...footsteps? Yes, someone iss definitely walking out of the room. Mercutio finally lets out a sigh of relief, opening his eyes and taking in another gasp of air...just as the door to the closet flies open.

There's a lengthy pause where Benvolio stares at him, and Mercutio scrambles to remember if Benvolio knew it was him behind his mask. But as the silence goes on, Mercutio shifts uneasily, and then, to his disgust, he notices that Benvolio's shirt is almost completely undone. He realises uncomfortably that Benvolio's not just going to magically disappear, so he says the first thing that comes to his mind.

"Well, that's obviously not the bathroom. So, I'm just gonna go, and-"

He's cut off by Benvolio grabbing his wrist and wrenching him out of the closet. Mercutio flinches; Benvolio's hand is surprisingly ice-cold.

There's another pause, and Mercutio is sick of the awkwardness, but is also torn between embarrassment, annoyance, and pure jealousy. And a terror that suddenly shoots up through him as Benvolio swiftly tilts Mercutio's mask up before he can do anything. Mercutio quickly falls backwards, and he isn't sure if Benvolio saw his face or not.

Benvolio opens his mouth to say something, but Mercutio's too distracted by how ruffled his hair is, by the creases in his shirt and pants.

Before Benvolio can get a sentence out, Mercutio quickly turns and dashes out of the room.


Mercutio quite honestly plans on never seeing Benvolio again. He has it all worked out in his mind. He'd stay at the palace for most of the time, only seeing people when they came to see him, and go out only when direly necessary.

Of course, he hadn't expected Romeo to invite himself over for an indefinite period of time. Or bring Benvolio with him.

At first Mercutio is overjoyed at the sight of Romeo entering the front gates. He had felt a little guilty at shutting out his best friend, even if it was in Mercutio's best interests, being the only way to completely avoid Benvolio.

And then he sees that Benvolio was trailing behind. As Mercutio leans over the balcony above the staircase, watching Romeo and Benvolio enter the palace, Benvolio shyly looks up at Mercutio through the curls of hair that fall across his eyes, and it takes every ounce of courage Mercutio had to walk down the steps to greet them, looking only at Romeo, or the floor, and never at Benvolio.

He still isn't sure if Benvolio knows it was him that night at the party, but then again, Benvolio is now where close to being an idiot and Mercutio has a fondness for particularly colourful and flamboyant clothing.

He lets the servants settle in the Montagues, and excuses himself to "take a bath or something".

He actually does end up taking a bath, after spending several minutes pacing in his room, since he really has no idea what else to do. He sits on the edge of the tub, pressing his fingertips against his forehead.

Mercutio wants to kick something. He doesn't want to be wound up so tight he feels like he'll break with every breath he takes, it's just that when he thinks about Benvolio, or that night, or anything really, his insides clench up and he has to force himself to stop shaking.

As the water pours into the tub, Mercutio realises he doesn't want to think that hard about his feelings. They're already too muddled and confusing as it is, and dwelling over them just adds to the agony. He cuts the water off, shrugs out of his clothing, and slides into the tub.

The warm water is bliss. He lets his body sink until his nose is barely above the surface and closes his eyes. It isn't long before he begins to drift off, his stress melting. Apparently unable to control itself, his mind finally gets around to thinking about the ever-mysterious Benvolio, dancing around the topic just like Mercutio himself was. Mercutio allows himself a few seconds to think about the other boy before he ducks underneath the water.

The silence pounds in his ears, and for a moment it's was like the world had gone still. Mercutio wishes he could stay, but his lungs gasps for air, and he can't deny them, unlike his feelings.

When he resurfaces, Mercutio takes a huge gulp of air and rubs the water out of his eyes. He spends an few seconds breathing before he opens his eyes.

Benvolio's face is right in front of his.

Mercutio lets out a (extremely manly) yell, splashing water all over the place as he scrambles away from the boy in front of him.

He desperately tries to cover up some of his dignity and loudly asks, "What are you doing here? Haven't you heard of knocking?"

Benvolio smiles a little, dipping his finger into the tub. Mercutio shivers.

"You were...occupied." Benvolio answers simply, and gives Mercutio a look that makes him wonder if there actually is something sinister about Benvolio. "Anyways, I just came to let you know Romeo wants to dine together, and he hopes that you'll join us." Benvolio pauses, looking thoughtful (thankfully not looking any lower than Mercutio's face) and adds, "I hope you'll join us."

Mercutio manages a weak, "Well, I do live here", which Benvolio must take as a yes, because he stands, grinning brightly, and winks at Mercutio before leaving the bathroom.

Mercutio sighs, sliding back farther into the tub. He's about to pull himself out when Benvolio's head pops back in through the doorway.

Mercutio gives another small, startled yelp. "Ben-"

"Nice shirt by the way." Benvolio says slyly, motioning towards Mercutio's shirt on the floor.

Mercutio's brows furrow together in confusion, but when he looks at his shirt, he remembers it's the same one he had been wearing the night of the party.


Dinner is extremely awkward, to say the least. Benvolio sits directly across from Mercutio, Romeo to Benvolio's left.

So Benvolio can make all the faces he wants at Mercutio, and Mercutio can't do a thing.

Halfway through the first course, as Mercutio holds up a conversation with Romeo that mainly involves Romeo lamenting over a girl he went home with during the party, Benvolio slides his foot up Mercutio's leg.

Mercutio chokes on a piece of bread (and feels like the table used to be wider), but Romeo doesn't notice at all, continuing on with his story. Mercutio gulps down his glass of water and throws a look at Benvolio, who's resting his chin in his hand and staring at Romeo with polite interest.

Mercutio tries to edge his chair away but it's too heavy, and there's Benvolio's foot, moving up to his thigh and settling on his lap. Mercutio's staring at Benvolio now who finally turns to face him, eyes glinting and mouth curved into a small smirk, fingers resting on his chin. They drag across his lips now, and Benvolio's index finger slides into his mouth just as his foot presses against Mercutio's crotch, and oh, the pressure-

Mercutio immediately shoves his chair back, not caring at the enormous scraping noise it makes across the floor, and Benvolio's foot falls out of his lap.

Romeo gives him a strange look and Benvolio looks like he's having trouble keeping himself from laughing. Mercutio apologises, quickly lying that he's tired and dozing off, and he fakes a yawn as he hurries out of the dining room, giving his two friends a hasty wave goodnight.

In his room though, Mercutio lays on the edge of his bed and sighs heavily, now completely unable to think about anything but what just happened at dinner, what happened in the bathroom, and oh, God, Benvolio knows it was him at the party. That last thought alone is enough to make Mercutio's stomach twist and he begins to feel sick again, especially because Benvolio didn't seem disgusted at him, or even uncomfortable. No, Benvolio seemed to be enjoying everything.

Mercutio curls his hands at his sides and grips at his bed sheets, tugging on them and shuddering. He can feel the heat pooling below his stomach, swirling and settling in a place that makes Mercutio instinctively blush, not because he's never experienced the feeling, but because it's at the thought of Benvolio.

His eyes are blurry as he blinks, face buried into his pillow, and he listens for movement in the hallway outside his room, but all is still. Quickly, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible, Mercutio ducks his hands below the waistband of his pants and grips himself, hissing at the sensation and breathing heavily into his pillow.

As Mercutio's hand slides up and down, his thoughts swim with images of Benvolio, Benvolio and that girl, and then eventually to Benvolio and Mercutio. Mercutio imagines that his hand becomes Benvolio's hand, and Benvolio's smirk dances across his skin as he presses kisses along Mercutio's back, and then Mercutio jerks, softly crying out, and the vision of Benvolio is gone.


The next day, in the late, hazy afternoon, Mercutio decides not to spend his walk dwelling over his feelings and chooses to simply breathe in the summer air as he walks along the pond behind the palace.

The blue sky dips beneath the trees and an orangeish glow starts to resonate from behind the clouds. Mercutio decides not to think about all the times that day Benvolio leered at him, or brushed by him, unnecessarily close, or how Romeo seems perfectly oblivious to everything, too caught up in Rosaline. Romeo's behaviour actually makes Mercutio want to laugh, in a sad, slightly sick way, because he wishes the love bubbling in his heart could be just as simple and serene.

He spends the next few minutes skipping rocks in the pond, and then his tranquility is shattered by the light sound of laughter trickling from behind some nearby trees.

The laughter stirs something in Mercutio's mind, and he knows he should just walk away, but it's a morbid curiosity, because he automatically knows who it is. And Mercutio pulls out a spare mask from his cloak pocket and slips it on, turning the corner and immediately spots Benvolio leaning over one of the house servants, pinning the younger boy to a tree.

Mercutio lets out a small gasp that is too soft for anyone but himself to hear, and he quickly ducks behind a tree.

It's that morbid curiosity, the fact that he knows that this is really as close as he's ever going to get to Benvolio, and it makes him peek around the tree trunk, and he watches as Benvolio hastily slides a leg up the servant's thigh, pressing a hand into the younger boy's chest and kissing him, hanging on to his lips like the need for air is absurd.

Heat curls up Mercutio's spine and he's panicing on the inside, but he also can't tear himself away from the scene. He can't stop watching as Benvolio pulls the boy's shirt over his head and slides his hands up the boy's side, and the boy shivers into Benvolio, and Benvolio quickly tears off his own shirt, and-

Mercutio leans dizzily against the tree, erection painful by now and head pounding. Regret, regret pours through his veins and he stumbles, ripping his eyes away and falls away from the tree.

He's barely aware that his mask has fluttered to the ground because he tears it off his face, because his face is so god damn hot, or that his foot snaps a twig as he practically flees. He doesn't make it very far though, before he collapses against another tree. He leans against it and tries to settle his heart and his breathing, because his heart's beating so fast and he's breathing so hard that he's afraid he might pass out. He buries his face into his arms and leans against the tree, shaking but waiting for everything to still.

He sort of hears footsteps behind him and it's not like he can run away at this point, so he simply rushes to control his breathing and keeps his face buried into his arms. The footsteps stop right behind him, and there's a lengthy pause that unnerves Mercutio, and he's actually about to turn around when arms suddenly grip his sides and he jumps, but he still faces the tree.

There are whispers in his ears and with an icy twist in his stomach, Mercutio knows that it's Benvolio standing behind him, pressing into him. Benvolio who Mercutio hopes doesn't recognise him - but doesn't doubt that he does.

Benvolio's hands continue to run up and down his sides, tugging on his shoulders, but when Mercutio won't budge, Benvolio huffs and leans even closer, pushing Mercutio enough into the tree that the bark digs into his chest. Benvolio's close enough to mutter, "Come on, there's no way I couldn't know it was you."

Mercutio had been still, but he somehow now freezes, because every part of his body halts, including his breathing and his heart. Benvolio continues, his breath tickling Mercutio's neck, and whispers, "I know it's you..."

He presses a kiss to Mercutio's neck and Mercutio's lets out a light moan, muffled by his arm.

Benvolio leans away, dragging his fingers along Mercutio's back.

"Matteo..." Benvolio says softly, before he leaves, footsteps crunching away, and realisation hits Mercutio because Matteo is the name of another of the palace's servants.

Once he's sure Benvolio is gone, Mercutio slumps against the tree.


"Doesn't Benvolio seem different to you lately?" Mercutio asks Romeo one morning, when Benvolio can't be found, and Romeo gives his friend a funny look.

"No." He says simply, and tilts his head as if studying Mercutio closer. "Why?"

Mercutio shifts uncomfortably, switching to his other foot as he leans on the balcony that overlooks the garden. "It's...he just seems different, that's all." Mercutio gulps before adding, "Darker."

Romeo shuts his book and laughs. "Darker?" He repeats, a little incredulously, which annoys Mercutio. "No, that's just Benvolio." Romeo says, and now Mercutio is confused.

"What do you mean?"

Romeo thinks for a moment, then explains. "That's just Benvolio. He's always been like that. He's always been quiet and covered in dusty, old books, and he doesn't laugh enough...but he's always had a side to him that's somewhat deeper, darker. He's actually a lot more cunning than people give him credit for; he's not just a fluffball underneath all that natural innocence." He points at Mercutio with the hand that's holding the book. "I have eighteen years of evidence to prove that."

Mercutio's eyes narrow as he takes the information in, and the corners of his mouth twitch at the word "fluffball", and Romeo adds, a smile playing on his lips, "If you're seeing that side of him more, consider yourself lucky. Most people only see the Benvolio with the stick up his ass."

Mercutio laughs at that, and it feels good to laugh, but his stomach still flip flops and he wonders where Benvolio is.


He doesn't see Benvolio at all for the rest of the day, and barely Romeo after their conservation in the morning. Mercutio takes the opportunity to try and sort out his feelings again, but everything honestly is so muddled and twisted, crisscrossed across his heart, that he gives up when his head starts to hurt after he thinks too hard about how Benvolio felt pressed against him as they stood agains the tree.

Mercutio skips dinner and hangs around in the garden until it grows dark and the flowers turn the same dark blueish colour. He walks slowly up to his room, mind drifting to and fro, and it's now completely dark as he enters his room. He manages to light a candle and the flame flickers in the room, casting a dim glow across Mercutio's face as he lies on his bed again, leaning against the bars of his bed, fingers twisting in his sheets.

The warm summer air wafts through Mercutio's open window, curtains dancing in the light breeze, and he's reminded of that afternoon at the Montagues', the afternoon that started everything. Or did it? Mercutio can't really remember. His eyes begin to flutter close and he feels sleep creeping over him, but right as he begins to slip away, he faintly hears the door to his room creak open. He thinks he says "Romeo, I'm done talking about Rosaline" but it comes out more like a mumble, and then hands press to his chest and Mercutio's eyes fly open, startled.

It takes him a few seconds to register that it's Benvolio he's looking, catching him unawares again, and this is enough time for Benvolio to act swiftly, pushing Mercutio back into the bars of his bed and sits on his chest.

Panic bubbles in Mercutio's chest and he instinctively tries to throw Benvolio off, but Benvolio holds him down and stops him with a harsh whisper, "Be still! And just be quiet and listen."

"Can I help you with something, Ben?" Mercutio gasps out, his voice more nervous than he would like. Benvolio's eyes narrow at the nickname. He pushes Mercutio again and the bars dig uncomfortably into his back, and Mercutio is reminded, with a flush, of Benvolio pressing him into the tree.

"What do you want?" Mercutio chokes out, becoming aware of his obvious growing problem and he glares at the smaller boy sitting on top of him. Benvolio grins and leans just a little bit closer, and his hair falls in his eyes like it always does. Mercutio suddenly finds himself fascinated by a drop of sweat that rolls down Benvolio's neck, brought on by the heat, or how the other boy's loose shirt leaves too much collarbone revealed. Mercutio feels Benvolio's nails dig into his arms and then Benvolio laughs, and says, "So Romeo told me you asked about me."

Mercutio pales a little. "Oh, did he?"

"You got something you want to say to me, Mercutio?" Benvolio drawls out, and the way he lengthens Mercutio's name sends shivers running down his spine.

Benvolio rolls into him when Mercutio falls silent, and Mercutio struggles for another gulp of air when his lungs continue to be crushed.

"Can you stop sitting on me?" He manages, trying to throw Benvolio an annoyed look, but Benvolio just laughs again and says, "Not fun for me. Here." He quickly reaches behind him and grabs something, moving too fast again and Mercutio still can't throw him off, and then Benvolio is leaning over Mercutio, doing something with the bars of the bed.

His chest is right in front of Mercutio's face and the shirt is loose enough that Mercutio can see down it, see the smooth skin of Benvolio's stomach, and the way his pants sit low on his hips. Mercutio is distracted enough by this that he doesn't notice until too late that Benvolio has tied his wrist to the bed frame.

His eyes are huge as Benvolio ties up the other wrist and that's definitely panic in his chest now. "What-what in God's name are you doing?" He demands and Benvolio smirks at him, sliding off his chest to sit on the bed, next to Mercutio's side.

"Tying you up, silly. Otherwise you'd probably run away like you always do."

"Always." Mercutio repeats, and Benvolio nods. "Yeah, like that time at the party, or that one time at dinner, or even yesterday in the forest. Oh, and not to mention when we were kids, and how you always ran away from me, or would do anything with me, or-" Benvolio cuts himself off just as a childish edge creeps into his voice, and laughs and lays his forehead on Mercutio's chest. Mercutio stares, dazed by the intensity that Benvolio is now exuding, and when Benvolio looks up at him with glassy eyes, he lets out a shaky breath.

"Doesn't matter," Benvolio says quietly, poking Mercutio in the chest. "The past is the past and it doesn't matter because from this point forward, I'm determined to completely make you mine now."

Mercutio's heart thumps so hard in his chest that he's sure Benvolio hears it. "Why...why did you call me Ma...why did you call me Matteo if you knew it was me?" He stutters, and Benvolio drags a thumb across Mercutio's hip bones.

"Did you know everyone I've ever been with has a name that begins with M?" Benvolio asks suddenly. Mercutio is silent, and Benvolio continues. "First it was Michael, and I think it was because he has light coloured hair like you do...and even the way he talked seemed a bit like you. I couldn't help myself. And then Mira and Medina...I wasn't really interested in either of them, but they both were so keen and pretty and desperate, and Mira had your eyes and Medina your tan skin. And Matteo!" Benvolio takes a moment to sigh and Mercutio's head is spinning with Benvolio's revelations, and as Benvolio talks about his lovers, Mercutio is also inexplicably filled with envy and curiosity.

"Matteo would let me into your room sometimes," Benvolio says. "And I'd just sit on your bed and stare at the walls." He actually flushes now and adds, "You think I'm insane, don't you? Maybe I am."

Benvolio is rambling, leaving no room for an answer from Mercutio. "I used to sit in my room and just think about what a monster I must be, because of the thoughts I have about you sometimes. How immoral everything is...how I've only ever been taught that any sort of feelings like these are wrong. Wrong! But I just couldn't bring myself to believe it." He takes a breath. "I found some books, that talked about what men sometimes do under the thin veil of sunlight with the aroma of summer heat, and I...I couldn't get those images out of my head, get you out of my head, and..."

Benvolio's voice fades and he's staring at Mercutio, with such a distraught expression in his eyes that Mercutio's heart feels sharp, painful stabs of displeasure. "What do you want of me then?" He whispers hoarsely.

"I want you." Benvolio says automatically. "I want all of you, completely."

Mercutio shudders, then says carefully, "I'm confused, Ben." Benvolio closes his eyes. "I don't know what I want."

Benvolio almost looks frustrated and Romeo's words echo in Mercutio's mind. He's actually a lot more cunning than people give him credit for...

"What are you doing?" Mercutio asks sharply as Benvolio starts tugging on Mercutio's pants with a huff. He lets out a small yelp when Benvolio completely pulls them down his legs and he struggles against the ties on his wrists, but they're tighter than expected. "W-wha-"

"Here, this way you don't have to look at me." Benvolio says harshly, and without any delicacy, he wraps a piece of cloth around Mercutio's face, covering his eyes and unfortunately part of his nose. He has to breathe through his mouth and he quickly says, stumbling over his words, "Seriously, Ben, what are you-"

His voice cuts off into a strangled moan as Benvolio runs his fingers along the inside of Mercutio's thighs. "Stop calling me that." Benvolio says darkly, his mouth just centimeters from Mercutio's. "Don't call me that, because every time you call me that..." He trails off with a shaky laugh and a groan. His nails dig into Mercutio's skin and Mercutio lets out a low cry, and Benvolio begins to mutter quickly, as if there's a secret he needs to tell Mercutio with haste, that only he can hear.

"Do you know how inordinately frustrating and annoying it is to look at you every day and have the desires that you do, and always be consumed with this fear and this doubt, and the certainty that your feelings are never going to be returned?"

He leaves no room for an answer, babbling, "It's the most depressing and aggravating thing ever. It's horrible. Every time I look at you...and in the end I couldn't even erase you out of my mind. And even though I never for a second believed you looked at me any differently than a friend's cousin, I thought maybe eventually I could get closer to you by becoming friends. I tried so often when we were younger, but you were always off with Romeo and girls, so I stopped. And then we grew up, and although I assumed nothing changed, I thought something did, in you."

He leans heavily against Mercutio and Mercutio's rakes in a haggard breath, feeling Benvolio's hair brush against his neck. Benvolio talks into Mercutio's shoulder, whispering into his ear, "You know, I thought you were just embarrassed at the party last week. I thought it was just an accident, and honestly I was embarrassed too, but then I thought about it. So I tried something, I pushed your buttons, and I got the reaction I had been hoping for."

At long last, his fingers slide over Mercutio's completely hard cock and Mercutio lets out such a gust of air and a groan.

"I knew you had to feel something, because you were avoiding me, and when I did see you, you looked at me differentially. I followed you out into the forest, and Matteo being there actually really was an accident. I was just so consumed and depressed, and then you were there! Your cloak is one of a kind, idiot, of course I knew it was you. And I don't know why I lied, it just came out, because some sadistic part of me wanted you to suffer like I have."

Benvolio says all this while muttering into Mercutio's neck, and Benvolio's hand plays with Mercutio's cock, eliciting tiny moans and cries from Mercutio. His head falls forward and he wishes he could see, even if he's somewhat scared as to what Benvolio looks like right now.

"Romeo is right you know. Sometimes I just get these feelings that I don't know what to do with at all, and I think you're the cause of them." He lets out a strangled laugh. "I won't you just let you tell me you're confused and you don't know what you want, not with everything that's happened to me. And you."

Benvolio gives another frustrated sigh and finally kisses Mercutio's neck, sucking at it like it's better than wine. Mercutio gasps loudly and Benvolio grips him harder, hand moving faster and there's definitely stars dancing across Mercutio's eyelids now.

He's gulping in air and there's no room in his brain to think about what Benvolio's said to him, there's only enough space for the intense amounts of pleasure rolling around in his head. His body jolts and the ties dig into his wrists painfully, and when Benvolio bites Mercutio's collarbone, his brain about shorts.

Benvolio kisses him right as he's beginning to reach the height of everything, his nerves feeling so electrified that he just might burst, and now he can't breathe. He realises he just might pass out and die from the lack of oxygen, or from the overwhelming pleasure of Benvolio's mouth and hand on his skin. And then as Benvolio's teeth tug on Mercutio's lips, tongue swiping across his teeth, Mercutio rolls and he can feel himself right there-

Benvolio suddenly pulls away completely, and Mercutio cries loudly. He chokes and whimpers and then falls forward into his bed when the ties on his wrists are undone. It only takes a quick flick of his cock before he comes, and Benvolio kisses the top of Mercutio's head before he leaves the room.


Mercutio falls asleep not long after that and he thinks he dreams about Benvolio. Benvolio dances and dances around him, twirling and he's everywhere, but not close enough.

When Mercutio wakes up and his first thought is about how much he wants to grip Benvolio and push him into a wall, get him back for everything he did to him the night before, he gets it, like it's as clear as day.

It happens to be Sunday, and Mercutio, Romeo, and Benvolio are rushed off to church. The whole way Romeo walks between Mercutio and Benvolio, and his two friends refuse to look at each other. The only moment they actually seem to recognise each other's presence is when Mercutio hands Benvolio is cloak. Their hands brush, and Benvolio flinches, much to Mercutio's curiosity.

Romeo rolls his eyes.

Once they're at the church and seated in the pews, Mercutio finds his usual instinct of "I-hate-it-here-and-it's-oppressing" coming over him. He glances over at Benvolio who's looking down at his hands as if they're the most fascinating things in the room.

It's a complete personality switch from the night before, and Mercutio's immensely interested. Benvolio almost seems embarrassed and shy, and possibly even regretful. Mercutio frowns at the last one.

Romeo asks Benvolio if he would switch seats so that he can actually see the pastor, and Benvolio looks terrified for a moment, but begrudgingly obliges. Romeo's face brightens and he winks at Mercutio, and Mercutio sighs.

Benvolio won't look at him once he sits back down, and the pastor begins the sermon. Ironically, it's a sermon about morality, and wrong and right, and invariably Mercutio knows the pastor will bring up the immorality of sex.

He finds himself grinning throughout the sermon, because he's him, and he can't help it. He can be confused and conflicted, but in the end, Mercutio's fallen back into the flamboyant idiot he's always been. He thinks back to the dream and revelation he had earlier that morning and smile, looking over at Benvolio, who was staring at Mercutio's mouth. Benvolio jumps and his eyes flicker back to his hands in his lap.

Mercutio moves closer until their legs are touch and Benvolio squirms a little but doesn't shrug away. He pushes his arm into Benvolio's, brushing the backs of their hands, and finally Benvolio looks at him, and curious and confused expression plastered across his face.

They're supposed to be standing and singing now, and Mercutio doesn't even bother to pretend he's joining in. He leans over and whispers in Benvolio's ear, "I'm sorry" and squeezes his hand briefly. Benvolio's eyes widen and for a moment he's stunned, then he turns and looks and Mercutio and grins.

When they sit back down, they're practically on top of each other, both of their heads in the clouds in bliss, their fingers intertwined.

Mercutio moves his index finger along Benvolio's thumb, pushing slightly every now and then and squeezes gently, mimicking the movements of Benvolio's hand last night, and finally Benvolio catches the reference. He flushes darkly and says softly but sharply, "No, not here."

Mercutio grins again and doesn't stop. He knows when it comes to the church the stick in Benvolio's ass goes up even farther, and he can't deny that it thrills him to be so immoral. At every opportunity possible, whenever it looks like no one's looking at them or there's a break in the pastor's sermon, Mercutio whispers every obscene word he can think of in Benvolio's ear, drawing them out as long as he can and thoroughly enjoying the flush that continues to creep across Benvolio's cheeks until his face is completely red. All the while the pastor talks of morality and even mentions something about "disgraceful affiliation between the two sexes", and Mercutio seizes that opportunity to press his hand into Benvolio's thigh. Benvolio squeaks but it's so soft that no one hears.

Now they're supposed to be praying, and Mercutio looks around gleefully at everyone, with their eyes closed and heads bowed. He takes a childish moment to make faces at the people in the church before Benvolio pulls him down, hitting him on the arm in annoyance, and Mercutio rolls his eyes. He swiftly kisses Benvolio fully on the lips and presses his hand to Benvolio's crotch. Benvolio gasps into Mercutio's mouth and their antics are hidden by everyone murmuring "amen", and then it's all over. Everyone else stands and Benvolio looks perfectly rumpled, and Mercutio is still grinning.

The follow the mass of people towards the door, but Mercutio spots the room where the confessional boxess are and gets an idea.

He tugs Benvolio closer to the door and Benvolio quickly understands what Mercutio wants to do. His indignant "no!" is cut off by a sharp pull from Mercutio, and they're in the other room and Mercutio shuts the door behind him.

Benvolio turns on him. "What if someone saw us? They were all right there, and-"

"Relax." Mercutio says, still pushing and pulling Benvolio towards the boxess. "No one cares, and if they do, they'll just think we're confessing," He quirks a smile. "Which I'm going to, at least."

Benvolio frowns and then yelps as Mercutio pushes them into the wooden box and slides the confessional door shut.

"Should I begin with, forgive me Father for I have sin-ouch!"

"I can't believe you even thought about doing this. And stop looking like such a baby, I didn't hit you that hard."

"Some wounds cut deeper than flesh, you kn-okay, don't hit me again."

Benvolio glares at him and there's honestly very little space, so he's practically sitting on top of Mercutio. Their faces are close enough that Mercutio can feel Benvolio's breath on his cheeks, and he smiles again. "I like the view." He says quietly, and Benvolio's eyes soften.

"I'm sorry," Mercutio starts again. "You took me by such surprise last night, I didn't have enough time to sort some things out. But now I have. And..." He trails off until exactly the right words form in his mouth. "I love you. Undeniably. And I want all of you, completely."

Benvolio lets out a small, soft "oh", and crushes his lips to Mercutio's.

For a little while they just kiss because Mercutio can't get past the feeling of Benvolio's lips on his, and how much he wants to devour and possess those lips, how good those lips taste, and then Benvolio pushes him back, pausing for a moment before saying, "I'm sorry too."

Mercutio frowns. "How so?"

"I...I took advantage of you last night, and I was too forward. It was too much for you, and-"

"Well, it was really fucking hot, that's what it wa-"

"It's just I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't know what to do with myself and that's what came to mind and I could stop myself from walking in your room and-"

"I'm glad you did." Mercutio says sincerely.

"Are you?" Benvolio asks, his eyes glistening.

"...Yeah. Now, can you help me with something here?"

Benvolio nods quickly. "Anything."

Mercutio points to his crotch and Benvolio rolls his eyes and snorts.

"We are not having sex in a confessional. I don't know what the consequences are, but I'm sure hell is involved in there somewhere."

"You are aware that you're already going to hell, right?" Mercutio quips, but he feels a small twinge of guilt from the emotion in Benvolio's eyes.

"Yes, I am aware." He says solidly, and Mercutio sighs.

"Binding someone's hands to a bed frame does have its consequences, you know." He says with fake solemness, and Benvolio hits him again.

"Hey! Well, at least I'll be there too." Mercutio laughs. "Hopefully that's a bit of an incentive."

"It is." Benvolio says lowly, and the tone of his voice brings makes Mercutio shiver, and now he's aware again of why they're in the confessional in the first place.

He hesitates for a moment before sliding his hand up Benvolio's shirt, across his chest and Benvolio sighs and leans forward into Mercutio. Mercutio traces his fingers up and down Benvolio's back, and it's so smooth and foreign, and he's consumed with this desire to make the unknown, known.

He slides off Benvolio's shirt and instantly attaches his lips to the lines in Benvolio's chest, kissing and sucking and loving the way Benvolio writhes underneath him. Benvolio's breath keeps catching in his breath like he can't believe what is happening to him, and Mercutio's stomach clenches and unclenches at this thought.

For a while it's all about discovering each other, familiarisation and study, learning and loving. Mercutio finds that Benvolio has a mole just above his left hip, and he lets Benvolio figure out that he's sensitive on the back of his neck, and whenever Benvolio presses a hand there he either laughs or writhes. All their clothes eventually fall to the floor and neither of them are cold, rather, breathing deeply in the humid air.

They're pressed so close to each other, trying desperately to occupy the same space, and after some time they look into each other eyes and acknowledge where this is going. Mercutio says softly, "I've read those books about men as well, you know", trying to calm the panicked look in Benvolio's eyes. Mercutio finds it a little ridiculous that Benvolio's ok with torturing him but gets frightened at the prospect of actually having sex, but he presses a kiss to Benvolio's sweaty forehead and brings a finger to the other boy's lips.

Benvolio understands and takes Mercutio's finger in his mouth, sucking on in a way that quickly becomes devious and Mercutio gives a little groan. He quickly shifts so that he's supporting Benvolio's weight, and then presses his finger very slowly into Benvolio. Benvolio squirms and grits his teeth, head falling onto Mercutio's shoulder and Mercutio mumbles a string of comforting sentences to Benvolio, talking into and kissing Benvolio's jaw.

Benvolio finally is relaxed enough and Mercutio pushes his finger farther, moving it around until Benvolio jerks and cries out, and Mercutio sighs heavily and pulls out his finger. Benvolio shudders into Mercutio's shoulder and grips at Mercutio's hair, and Mercutio, slowly again, lowers Benvolio onto himself.

Mercutio thinks he's gasping or letting a serious of incomprehensible noises and Benvolio's fingers twist in his hair, and his mouth is hot against Mercutio's. He thinks he can see the heat surrounding them, and Mercutio's vision swims dizzily as Benvolio attacks his mouth.

The rhythm builds up and they're slick against each other, moving and mumbling and groaning. Everything's blurry and pure, absolute bliss, and Benvolio's nails dig into Mercutio's back in a way that is both pleasure and pain. Benvolio's mouth is wide open as his face rests on Mercutio's shoulder, but then he leans back and lets out this moan that makes Mercutio bite his lip hard enough to make it bleed. He has to clench his eyes shut after seeing how dilated and blown wide open Benvolio's eyes are, and Benvolio lets out a low, guttural laugh that shudders as he slides his arm around Mercutio's neck and kisses him.

Mercutio's so close now, and he think that Benvolio is too from the way Benvolio's letting a stream of obscene words fly from his mouth. There's one last push and then Mercutio bites Benvolio's neck and comes, Benvolio not long after.

They lie against each other, completely dazed and drenched in sweat. Finally, Mercutio moves to plant a sloppy kiss on Benvolio's face, and Benvolio grimaces.

"Whaaat?" Mercutio says, disgruntled, but he smiles when he sees that Benvolio's eyes are laughing.

"The things I'm going to do to you to make up for fucking in a confessional box, I swear."

Mercutio chooses not to make a joke, even though the instinct comes to him first. Instead, he kisses Benvolio again, drawing a sigh out of the boy as he drags his thumbs across Benvolio's cheeks.