Notes: So Romeo and Juliet is definitely not my favourite Shakespeare work, but I have been obsessed with the Benvolio/Mercutio pairing since I first read it. I really hope I can do these characters justice (though Mercutio doesn't really say anything in this piece). I also hope that you enjoy Benvolio's inner musings that is this fic. Feedback is well appreciated.

The moon was casting its long shadow in through the slightly opened window in Benvolio Montague's chamber. He knew that he should get up from his bed and shut it, but he felt too boneless to even move. He didn't feel like he could do anything but lie there in that very moment. It was one of the nights, which were becoming more and more frequent, when Mercutio would come rapping at his door. He wasn't quite sure if he was just allowed in or if he had snuck into the large manor. A deep part in Benvolio hoped that it was the latter, which made it feel all the more romantic to the young man.

These nights were Benvolio's favourite time of all. Mercutio would enter the small room with his usual flourish, though he kept it quiet for fear of waking those in the rooms beside Benvolio's. He would usually try to say something in the manner that Benvolio had become accustom to, making the man in question laugh. Once Mercutio had finished his monologues, Benvolio would pull him into his bed and kiss him with as much passion as he could muster. Mercutio would soften in his touch and their kiss would become gentle and loving.

Their kisses escalated and turned into passionate touches and clumsy caresses. Now that it had been months since this started, it was like a routine and they were much surer of themselves. Of course, Mercutio had always been confident in his love making ability, but when he was wrapping his lips around Benvolio's stiff manhood or felt the other entering him, Benvolio could feel him quiver in something that could only be described as apprehension. When this happened, Benvolio would cradle his head gently in his hands or make his movements slower and gentler. But as time moved on, his need to do these actions became less essential.

After hours of slow and deliberate lovemaking, one of them would collapse, unable to take anymore. Whether it was from exhaustion or oversensitivity, neither seemed to know the cause of the end. But they never pushed each other further than they could go and they would simply end the night with soft kisses and fingertips dancing across skin. This particular night, it had been Mercutio who had yielded their movements, mumbling that he could take no more. Benvolio had nodded understandingly, knowing that it was a rare occasion when Mercutio said they had to stop. He simply wrapped his arms around his lover and kissed his temple. It didn't take long before sleep took Mercutio, leaving the other boy awake with his thoughts.

The light of the moon illuminated Mercutio perfectly, showing off every little imperfection that Benvolio loved. He was an expanse of pale, thin skin stretched over large bones. His ribs and hipbones stuck out farther than Benvolio though healthy, especially when he was lying on his back. But if he ever mentioned it, his lover would look away with a faint blush on his cheeks, saying that it wasn't anything worth citing. Though it upset him, Benvolio let it go and didn't bring it up until he had moments such as the one he was in. Moments were he could clearly see his alabaster skin littered with small love bites that Benvolio had left when he was mapping out his body. Moments when a sheen of sweat shone from the slight flush of his lower belly's trembling muscles to his forehead where his light blond hair stuck to his skin. Moments when Benvolio felt like sobbing at the pure beauty that was the man beside him.

Despite himself, Benvolio ran the tip of his finger up Mercutio's side, feeling how soft his skin felt beneath it. He wished that he himself could be as perfect as the other man was. He wished that his blemishes would only enhance his attractiveness instead of making him look awkward and young. But alas, Benvolio was all brown curls and blue eyes that were too dark to be considered beautiful. He was acne that covered his skin which was too dark from hours outside practicing his swordsmanship or following Romeo around everywhere in Verona. No part of his mind could find how this gorgeous man that lay next to him could find all of those faults as handsome as he said they were. It made no sense to Benvolio. He was not attractive; he was not Mercutio, who embodied everything that was lovely in the world.

Tiredness was making Benvolio's eyelids heavy, but he forced it away. He rarely had times where he could admire Mercutio in such a way where he wouldn't shy away from him, his slightly sunken eyes shifting uncomfortably. It was only in the deep of the night when he could look at him with as much affection as possible, noticing how his eyelids brushed his cheekbones or how Benvolio's release stuck to the insides of his thighs, a small reminder that he did want Benvolio inside of him, causing him as much pleasure as his body could allow. He could not sleep for fear of this moment slipping away, leaving him forever, never to arrive back again.

But his eyes still cried out to be closed and his muscles to be relaxed. He finally gave into his body's signals to him, telling him that he needed to sleep. Before giving in however, he wrapped his arms around his gorgeous love; he kissed his lips gently, which were turned up slightly in a content smile. His lips were like a rose petal, contrasting with his slightly gaunt face, so soft and supple against Benvolio's own rough, cracked mouth. He could feel the sight of Mercutio's chest rising and falling lulling him into his own sleep. The small breaths that left his lips were like a lullaby. His smile flickered a little. Benvolio returned the smile and whispered.

"I love you," and he knew that despite his sleep, Mercutio heard him.