Bring Back That Lovin' Feelin'
A/N: Whoa, whoa, that lovin' feelin' now it's gone, gone, gone. Erm...yeah. I have a thing for song titles and lyrics if you haven't already noticed. This is dedicated to M.P. because he is a boundless source of inspiration, whether he knows it or not.
None but mine are mine. That's simple enough, dontcha' think?
Prologue
Roger Davis murmurs softly in his sleep. His words incoherent, swallowed by a soft pillow. Silver white moonbeams flicker gently across his face in the shadowy darkness. Pale arms wrap around the slumbering musician, enclosing him in a loving embrace.
He begins to stir, turning slowly to face his companion. Though he hadn't expected to see this particular face, a grin creeps along his jaw. Now fully aware, the muscular blonde leans back against his pillow, holding the pale figure in his arms. How wonderful to be like this again, together, silent, content.
"I thought I would never see you again."
A grin tugs at the corners of his companion's mouth. Soft lips part, revealing the sound of almost musical laughter. What a ridiculous thought. Never see each other again? That was impossible. "You think too much lately."
Roger sighs, his hands running absently over the smooth skin of his lover's cheeks. Calloused fingers brush back stray locks of hair, revealing deep, soulful, eyes he knows all too well. Those eyes still captivate him, full of love meant for one person. He would never be worthy of that love now. Had he ever been to begin with?
The radiant lips form a lopsided grin, causing a shiver to run through the musician. That smile, so unlike any other, so rare, so special. If only he could feel those lips against his own, cover them with hungry kisses.
"Kiss me."
As always, the figure seems to read his mind. That one phrase nearly breaks his heart for a second time. A hushed reply hangs icily in the air, taunting the lovers. "I can't." Those words, two words, so difficult to string together, bringing tears to Roger's eyes. Another question rises from the crestfallen face, a question he would always hate.
"Why can't you?"
This one is unbearable, the answer ringing loudly out through the room as his dream fades.
"Because, Mark, you're dead."
So...yes I'm writing chapter one right now. I couldn't say anything about it being M/R because that would have given the entire thing away. Hope you don't hate me if that's not your cup of tea. Please, I know it's short right now, review anyway!
A/N: Whoa, whoa, that lovin' feelin' now it's gone, gone, gone. Erm...yeah. I have a thing for song titles and lyrics if you haven't already noticed. This is dedicated to M.P. because he is a boundless source of inspiration, whether he knows it or not.
None but mine are mine. That's simple enough, dontcha' think?
Prologue
Roger Davis murmurs softly in his sleep. His words incoherent, swallowed by a soft pillow. Silver white moonbeams flicker gently across his face in the shadowy darkness. Pale arms wrap around the slumbering musician, enclosing him in a loving embrace.
He begins to stir, turning slowly to face his companion. Though he hadn't expected to see this particular face, a grin creeps along his jaw. Now fully aware, the muscular blonde leans back against his pillow, holding the pale figure in his arms. How wonderful to be like this again, together, silent, content.
"I thought I would never see you again."
A grin tugs at the corners of his companion's mouth. Soft lips part, revealing the sound of almost musical laughter. What a ridiculous thought. Never see each other again? That was impossible. "You think too much lately."
Roger sighs, his hands running absently over the smooth skin of his lover's cheeks. Calloused fingers brush back stray locks of hair, revealing deep, soulful, eyes he knows all too well. Those eyes still captivate him, full of love meant for one person. He would never be worthy of that love now. Had he ever been to begin with?
The radiant lips form a lopsided grin, causing a shiver to run through the musician. That smile, so unlike any other, so rare, so special. If only he could feel those lips against his own, cover them with hungry kisses.
"Kiss me."
As always, the figure seems to read his mind. That one phrase nearly breaks his heart for a second time. A hushed reply hangs icily in the air, taunting the lovers. "I can't." Those words, two words, so difficult to string together, bringing tears to Roger's eyes. Another question rises from the crestfallen face, a question he would always hate.
"Why can't you?"
This one is unbearable, the answer ringing loudly out through the room as his dream fades.
"Because, Mark, you're dead."
So...yes I'm writing chapter one right now. I couldn't say anything about it being M/R because that would have given the entire thing away. Hope you don't hate me if that's not your cup of tea. Please, I know it's short right now, review anyway!
