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And my head told my heart
Topic Started: Nov 19 2017, 11:02 PM (39 Views)
Peyton Brooks
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Peyton wanted to say he "wasn't that kind of guy", but even in his own head it sounded ridiculous. It sounded almost judgmental for what it was. At the same time, he was never the sort of man who just...found someone in a bar and took them home for one night. That wasn't really something you wanted to do, he felt. He had never been so desperate for love and affection that the first date ended in sex. That was just kind of asking for trouble, he felt. Second dates, well, that was a bit different. You had more of an idea then right? Realistically speaking he knew he didn't have much of a leg to stand on. He had had sex with people on the second date, he had hooked up with people when the first date had been kind of a disaster. He was a man who had needs, wasn't he? And he had always been the type that when he was on duty in the army, he was on duty. He knew some of his fellow soldiers had had their fun; they had spent nights were locals or what have you, but Peyton...he had never really wanted to divide his attention. He didn't want to come off as paranoid and he certainly didn't want to accuse a woman or a man of being some hidden terrorist cell, but he couldn't deny sometimes those thoughts were in his mind. The idea of people who were willing to kill them hiding as normal people wasn't exactly new, after all. It happened everywhere. So Peyton had kept it to himself until he was on leave...and that leave never really lasted long enough for a full meaningful relationship. So as much as he would like to have waited or how much he wasn't one of "those" kinds of guys, sex wasn't exactly unheard of after the first date.
<p>
Except he and Marc hadn't even had a first date. Peyton had been sitting in a bar and Marc had been his bartender, he and Marc had flirted...and things had snowballed. Oddly enough Peyton felt like he knew quite a bit about Marc – he had a couple of friends that he always had to reign in, he wasn't a native to this city and it was bigger than the one he came from, he didn't go on dating sites, he knew Marc didn't drink, he was gay, and he wasn't overly fond of camping. Those were very basic things that he could have learned on a first date, right? But it still didn't count. No matter how much he <i>wanted</i> it to count, it hadn't. Marc had been working, Peyton had been a patron of the bar. Marc had flirted, Peyton had flirted and it had gone some where but Peyton didn't want to kid himself that it had been more lust than actual love. It had to be, right? Love came when you knew a person; love came when you knew all their quirks or when you were discovering them and it meshed with you. Lust was all about the physical, wasn't it? Nothing to be ashamed of, but Peyton had always been leery of people who tried to mask it. It was one thing for teenagers to confuse the two because...well, teenagers were all ready pretty confused as it was. But adults? Grown adults who looked at someone and said 'I'm in love'? That was something else. He had found Marc charming and sweet and he had hit all of Peyton's interests, but he wasn't about to say it was love right away.
<p>
At the same time, he couldn't say it was lust either. Lust had a very primal meaning to it, in his opinion, and last night hadn't been overly primal. Getting back to his hotel room, that was all Peyton could think about, really. All he wanted to do was kiss Marc until he had to pant and screw him until they both couldn't move. Things had even been heading in that direction as soon as the door had closed behind them. It had been going that way when he had gotten Marc on the bed...and then Marc had blurted out that he was a virgin. It was like time had stood still in that moment and the word 'virgin' had practically echoed in the room. He had taken so long to respond that Marc had asked in the quietest voice if that was okay and there was a hint of his being ready to say he would go, he'd leave. Peyton had kissed him then, slower and gentler. He remembered saying it didn't change anything because he had <i>wanted</i> Marc. Well, he said it didn't change anything, but it had. Peyton had been ready to make things quick, to get them through the night almost as fast as possible, but with those words, Peyton had known he had to go slow. Even if Marc had decided to keep quiet or say it was good to do whatever or even say that he <i>wanted</i> Peyton to do it as he planned, Peyton wouldn't have been able to do it. A person's first time should be at least somewhat special. It shouldn't be all flowers and happiness, it shouldn't be something that was immune to awkwardness. It didn't even have to be with someone you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with, in Peyton's opinion. A first time should be gentle, it should be slow, it should be with someone who didn't make you feel bad because something went wrong and you were both left laughing over it. It wasn't something you should hurry. So he had taken his time, he had been slow and steady.
<p>
They had gone the whole night, he felt proudly of that. It had been a night full of soft kisses, arms clutching each other, and holding still even when you didn't want to. It had been with whispered words, gentle questions of this or that was okay, it was exploring the world they had together in that room. They had collapsed what felt like only hours ago and Peyton could admit that he had been extremely groggy when he had called the store to tell them he must have eaten something off and he needed to recover. He must have sounded convincing because the people who he had talked to said he sounded <i>awful</i>. He wasn't going to complain. It had meant he had gotten to sleep in and when he woke up, Marc was still there. More than that, Marc had shifted closer, had nudged close until he could rest his head on Peyton's chest. He lifted a hand, moving it down to the short strands on the back of Marc's head. They weren't exactly buzzed to the shortest they could go, but it wasn't like the top of his hair. The top he could get his fingers through...but he couldn't deny he liked the feel of lightly scratching his fingers through the short hairs.
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Marc Miller

This wasn't something that happened. Not to Marc. This wasn't something that he did. He didn't just... blurt things out the way he had. Well, he did but it was never... it was never a decision. It was never a huge, life altering sort of a decision. He blurted stupid things out that he regretted, but it was never something like what had happened. It was never something like "I'm going to move to another state" or "I'm going to quit my job without having a backup job" or anything that was huge. It was never "I get off at three" with a very clear indication that he wanted to sleep with someone. It was minor, stupid things. He was too nervous of change to do things like that. He was too scared of all the things that could go wrong; of somehow finding a serial killer or a stalker or someone who wanted to steal all of his money (what little he had). He was too scared of being laughed at or being told the person was joking. Marc kept to himself and regretted his lack of courage later on. He didn't bravely hold hands with a man he hardly knew in the middle of his job. He didn't boldly say that he got off at three and then go ahead and find his boss and say that he wasn't feeling well, that it was slow and could he go home? He didn't pick someone up or let someone pick him up at his job (not that he ran into the situation, really). Then Peyton had walked into the bar, sat down and Marc had taken over when his coworker had left for the night and God. God, everything had been different. Everything had been so hyper focused on the man and he had been so handsome, so kind and so very, very interested in Marc that it had made his head spin.

Marc had been more than interested in him. He hadn't felt that strongly in... a long time. He had been in love with James for years and it had burned so hot and taken so long to finally peter and burn out. His first boyfriend he had been interested in but it had petered out within a few months and it had never even been puppy love. With Prosper, it had been a multitude of things; a mutual love of similar things, personalities that meshed well and the very real feeling of knowing that there was someone who loved him and was always thinking of him and always concerned for him and all of it was romantic. Marc had been the one to call it off, but there had been days that he regretted that a lot. It was just that he had known that it wasn't going anywhere, that they would still be sitting in Texas and England and Marc would always want more and would build it up so high that it could only crash and burn. If things had been a little different, just a little, he and Prosper would probably still be together and this would never have happened at all. With Peyton, it had been such a physical thing initially that he had just assumed that was all it would be. He would just stare and enjoy the handsome man and that would be that. Marc's awkward ways would either amuse or annoy the man and eventually he would head off to his life. But then they had talked and more than just the physical Marc had liked it. The strength in the man's body and in just his personality had been so attractive to him that he had done something he never, ever did.

They had left the bar together and Marc had nervously gotten into the rental car. The hotel was nothing amazing. A chain place that was just shy of being a bit dingy but it was serviceable and if it had that strange humid feel to it, well, that was just the way most hotels felt unless they were fancy. It was likely the room had been just locked up until Peyton had rented it. All thoughts of the room and everything else had fled in the face of Peyton kissing him. It wasn't his first kiss. He might not have had a lot of experience, but he had kissed. It felt like his first kiss, though. It was unlike anything he had had before and it made his knees practically buckle, making him lean more weight against Peyton. The older man had just chuckled at him and it had sent shivers through his body. They had moved quickly. Kissing all the way from the door to the bed and then he had gotten Marc onto the bed and, somewhere, Marc had done what Marc did best. He had blurted out the first thing on his mind, his nerves jangling somewhat, and had said he was a virgin. Peyton had frozen and just stared at him for so long that he had shrunk down, hunched in on himself, and asked in a small voice if he had screwed it up, asked if it was okay. Peyton had seemed to come back to himself at that and he had just kissed him slow and gentle and then said it changed nothing because Peyton wanted him. Those words had done something to Marc. In a way, it had done more for him than anything else that had happened so far that evening. And then Peyton had been so slow and so gentle in everything that he did. He had taken his time, even when Marc begged him, and just kissed his lips, his cheek, his eyelids, everywhere. More than that, he had waited after they had finished until Marc had recovered some and he had started again, taking his time, introducing Marc to something else each time, letting Marc cling to him and whisper soft pet names he had no right to whisper and taking care of him through the whole thing. He had never felt so loved and taken care of.

Eventually, they had both needed to stop and they had curled up together on the bed. Marc had fallen asleep almost immediately, content and exhausted. He vaguely remembered a soft kiss against his hair and, what might have been right then and might have been later, the soft rumbled of the other man's voice speaking about something before there was the soft beep of a phone. He might have made it up, though, because he didn't remember much else than that. He slept sounder than he probably had in a long time, feeling exhausted but also warm and safe in a protective circle of arms with the steady sound of the other man's heartbeat so close to his ear. He shifted just a little, rubbing his face against the solid surface of Peyton's chest. Distantly, his brain registered the fact that the man was there, that Marc could smell his distinct scent, and that there was a pleasant feeling of fingers at the back of his head lightly scratching there. He made a small sound that was akin to a cat purring, his eyes opening half-lidded although he was still mostly asleep and didn't see much of anything at all. Eventually, his brain started to wake up more and he opened up his bright blue eyes to look up at the man. He might have been embarrassed - they had had sex and they were naked and God they hardly knew each other - but it was so hard to be embarrassed when he looked into that handsome face with the soft smile and felt the fingers against his hair. "Mmm..." he murmured out the soft sound of pleasure at the continued scraping of fingers against the short hairs. Then he shifted a little closer and leaned up to boldly - for him, anyways - press his lips against the older man's in a brief kiss. "Mornin', baby," he said, only belatedly mentally screaming at himself that he had no right to call Peyton that.
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Peyton Brooks
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Peyton kept stroking his fingers through those short strands as he found himself realizing he hadn't been this content in a long time. He tried to avoid thinking it was the sex. He had had plenty of sex in his life...but then the idea that this was nothing special left a sour taste in his mouth and really, it wasn't true in the slightest. It had been something special; it had been <i>too</i> special, if that wasn't considered more hurtful to think. Peyton couldn't ever remember sex being that...meaningful, which was an insult to the people he use to know but a truth at the same time. He could hardly remember his first time outside of it had been a lot of bumbling and a lot of 'no not there, what are you doing' but it had been special enough. Everything after that had been better, everything had been sweeter and nicer but it had been different from this. Before it had been scratching an itch or it had been with the knowledge that it wouldn't <i>go</i> anywhere because he would ship out after his leave and most people would try to be faithful, but there would come a letter that said they couldn't do this anymore. Here with Marc, he realized that that wasn't a barrier. He may have been planning to go back to Chicago, but he wasn't shipping out over seas. He wasn't going to Thailand or Korea or Germany or Afghanistan or some place where someone felt they had to say 'I can't cope with this'. Sure Chicago wasn't ideal, it was still a far place...but nothing was tying him to there, was it? He had his family, but he was almost forty years old; he had been away from them off and on for almost twenty years. He had his job, but it wasn't like he was married to that either. If he could find something here...
<p>
Movement stopped his thoughts. He could feel Marc's face nuzzling against his chest, the gentle shifts of someone beginning to stir...and then came the purr. It was a soft sound, not quite the exact noise a cat would make but it was enough to make Peyton chuckle. Marc began to stir a bit more, making another soft noise before he shifted closer and leaned in to kiss him. It was a brief kiss, closer to a peck, but Peyton wasn't above using his hand on the back of Marc's head to pull him in closer to briefly deepen the kiss. Just enough to make it a more thorough one. "<b>I think,</b>" he murmured, "<b>it's closer to afternoon, sweetie,</b>" he chuckled. There was a part of him that was surprised at Marc using a pet name, much less Peyton using one in response. They hadn't known each other long enough for that, some would say. They didn't know anything about each other to allow for this outside of what they had learned the night before. But Peyton was sure there had been people who had slept with others with even less info, so maybe they were ahead of the game, here. Peyton, for one, didn't mind. He couldn't say he had ever been much of a 'endearment' sort of guy, but...well, the women he had use to date had always been a bit quieter and hadn't lasted long enough to hand them out. The men he had used to date had been strong, tough men that had avoided pet names like the plague. And when Peyton thought about that, he realized that Marc didn't fit in with what Peyton normally picked out for himself and yet, Peyton found he couldn't bring himself to care. He liked Marc <i>better</i> than those men. Last night hadn't been a fight of dominance, it hadn't been negotiating for position...it had just fallen into place naturally.
<p>
He leaned forward to press another kiss to Marc's forehead. "<b>You okay if I smoke?</b>" he asked gently. He pulled away after a moment, moving to get out of bed and pulling on a pair of boxers that had been thrown off to the side. Once those had been acquired, he went to the window, pushing the drapes open and letting the Texas warm air roll in as he opened the window. This had to be one of the few places that allowed smoking inside of their building. Granted Chicago didn't really have a whole lot of old motels like this place anymore. All of the Chicago hotels were fancier or at least try to be half way decent. This kind of motel, though...these were the kinds you saw in older cop movies or horror movies, though maybe a bit nicer. When he had first pulled up to it when he had gotten into town, he had sworn up and down that his job had been too cheap to get anything nicer...but the more he had seen the town, the more he had realized that this was probably the best they could do. It wasn't <i>bad</i> but any means, it wasn't scary to look at, he hadn't worried about the idea of bed bugs or roaches. It wasn't <i>dirty</i>, just...old. Which was good news for him considering it allowed him to smoke inside the room. Most of the hotels he had been had been in were banned from that or if he wanted a smoking room, he had to pay extra out of pocket. He understood. Newer places didn't have that cigarette smell and they didn't want it; this place had come with it, though it wasn't the worse.
<p>
He settled into the chair by the window, tapping out a cigarette for himself and lighting it. The first puff of smoke he directed towards the window, pushing it out into the open rather than letting it linger in the room. "<b>So,</b>" he offered up slowly, "<b>I told my job I was sick, unfortunately. Got food poisoning or something,</b>" he waved a hand a little. He had been too groggy that morning to know what he had said officially. Apparently with how he sounded, he could probably say anything when he saw them next and they would just give him sympathetic looks and say poor him, he was so out of his mind he wasn't aware of anything. "<b>Means I, for one, will probably have to hang around in the room most of the day.</b>" Which wasn't bad because there was a television, he had books a few books he threw into his bag, he had a laptop. He could do things. But that was only a worst case scenario in his opinion. Best case scenario would be he would be too distracted with Marc to really worry about what he was doing. It wasn't even about the idea of more sex, he realized with a sudden jolt. It was more thinking about being curled up with Marc in bed, maybe watching TV or pulling something up on his laptop, but it didn't matter. What mattered was just being curled up with the younger man.
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Marc Miller

Marc didn't think he had ever felt so warm and content, so safe and secure. There were times in the past where James or Gabi had done something for him - invited him for a holiday, hugged him tightly when he was cold, protected him from someone - where he had felt those feelings. It wasn't like this. James had been his first love, but it had been an unrequited thing that had burned hot and bright until the flame had finally guttered out. When James hugged or protected him now, it was just the feeling of contentment at having such a good friend. Gabi was his friend, had always been his friend that was practically his sister, and while she made him feel loved and safe it still wasn't the same. The level of those feelings compared to these was such a wide gulf. And he didn't think he had ever felt all of them so much at the same time and all because of one individual. When he was lying here in Peyton's arms it felt like nothing could go wrong. It felt like the world was gone and it was just the two of them. It felt like nothing would ever hurt him so long as he was near the older man. That was silly, wasn't it? They didn't know one another. They knew some things that they had talked about but that wasn't knowing one another. But, strangely, Marc couldn't find it in himself to care and when his brain tried to tell himself that he should care he ardently told it to be quiet and reminded himself that James and Rosemary hadn't known one another and look at them. Granted, no one could be like those two but... they were still firmly, strongly, happily together in love. Maybe you didn't always need to spend years together to get to know each other. Maybe, just like everything else in the world, it depended on the person - or persons. And, maybe, he should stop thinking like that entirely and just enjoy the moment. He didn't want to start building things up like he had with Prosper.

The older man gave a chuckle that Marc both heard and felt as it vibrated through his chest. The sound of it filled him with such a warm feeling of longing - not a sexual longing. It was the longing to just be there, right there in this moment, forever. When he leaned up and kissed Peyton, the other man kept his hand against his hair and used that light hold to pull him closer, to make the kiss just a little bit deeper. Peyton didn't make any sort of fuss over the pet name that Marc had used. He felt a sudden squirmy warmth practically shoot through his stomach and his heart when the older man just smiled at him, when he murmured and chuckled and used a pet name of his own. It made Marc want to wriggle around, made him want to bury his face in the pillow and just scream with all the contained feelings that he had. He contented himself, for the moment, with just dropping back to the bed and snuggling up against Peyton's warm body again. "I work night shift," he pointed out, letting his fingers lightly trace over Peyton's chest. "Afternoon is mornin' to me." It was a bit earlier than he normally woke up, too. So, for him, it was morning. He wasn't going to argue it, though, even playfully. Instead he just let his gaze dip down to where his fingers were still tracing over the other man's chest, just watching the trail of his fingers, watching the way that Peyton's chest rose and fell with his breathing. He brought his fingers up somewhat to the man's collarbone, to his shoulders, circling a little mark that made him blush to realize that he had been the one to do that.

Marc closed his eyes for a moment in utter contentment as Peyton pressed a kiss against his forehead. He was ready to honestly just drift back off to sleep again, happy and warm and content as he was. Peyton spoke, however, and it took him a moment to process the words. He opened his eyes as Peyton gently untangled himself from Marc's hold. Finally his brain caught up and told him that he had been asked a question. "Oh, um... I guess?" He said, feeling more than a little dazed. He watched as Peyton climbed out of bed, letting his eyes just rake over the man's well muscled body as he pulled on a pair of boxers. In a way, it was almost worse that he was wearing those. Marc remembered what he looked like without any clothes on and with the thin fabric of the boxers in place he could only remind himself, over and over again, just how handsome Peyton had been, how hungry Marc had been for his body. He watched the older man walk around the bed and go over to the window, taking a seat in the old chair that was there. He watched Peyton open the window and tap out a cigarette before he lit it. Marc could admit that he didn't much like cigarettes. They smelled, the smell got everywhere and it was dangerous for not only the smoker but anyone that was around them. Marc had never seen anything as sexy as watching Peyton take a drag off of that cigarette. Idly, he sat up in the bed, pulling the blankets around him entirely as he just watched the older man slowly blow the smoke out of the open window.

He listened as Peyton spoke and, for a moment, he didn't quite understand why Peyton was telling him what he was. Obviously he should have been at work so he had obviously done something to make sure that he wasn't at work. It was simple logic to work that out. When he continued on, however, and said that he would have to stay here in this room... Marc was by no means a genius but he could understand heavy handed subtlety and hints like that. He couldn't stop himself from perking up at the older man's words. "I don't go into work until six or so! And I... I said I wasn't feeling well last night when I left. I could.. I could still not be feeling well today," he offered up, his words dropping some in volume towards the end of his sentence as shyness overtook him. Had he ever been so bold before? He didn't think so. He had cut out a couple of hours and now a full day of money from work. He had gone to a motel with a stranger. This was nothing like the Marc that he normally was. He gathered the sheet around him entirely, wrapping it around him like a robe before he stood up from the bed. Though his muscles twinged somewhat and he was a bit sore, it was nowhere near as bad as it could have been... probably because Peyton had been so careful with him. He walked over to where Peyton still sat. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of the cigarette but he ignored it for now. He reached out to very lightly brush his fingertips over the other man's cheek before he moved to sink into his lap, squirming a bit until he found a position where he could curl up on him without falling out of the chair. He tucked his head under Peyton's chin, closing his eyes and resting against the older man. "I'll stay with you."
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Peyton Brooks
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He tried to tell himself this was just him finally ending his dry spell. He was just feeling it hot and heavy because it had been so long and it just felt right. The problem was that he couldn't say it was just the dry spell, it wasn't just because it had been long. It felt right, sure, but that was...something more than just it clicking for the right now. He told himself to let it sit. He didn't need to poke at it yet because maybe it was going to go no where. Maybe he was just going to have a week long affair. But the kiss he shared with Marc didn't feel like affair material. The way Marc snuggled back into him didn't feel like just an affair. "<b>Now that's just splitting hairs and sounds like someone who doesn't want to be wrong,</b>" he teased. He leaned down, nuzzling his nose against Marc's hair, inhaling the scent of it. God this felt too good. It felt better than he had ever hoped or thought it could be. Marc's fingers were light, a ghosting over his skin, and it sent shivering memories through his brain to remember last night. They had spent hours going at it, gentle though it was. It had been night filled with soft sounds and words spoken that probably had far too deep of a meaning with how soon they had met. Peyton couldn't bring himself to care, not now, not with Marc touching him. He scratched his fingers through the short hairs on Marc's head again, let his free hand slide down Marc's side. No matter how many times he told himself this didn't feel right or perfect, a voice turned right around and said 'yes it does'.
<p>
He reached out, smoothing Marc's hair back. It felt...natural. It felt like the perfect thing he needed to do right in that moment, but he wasn't overly sure why. The response he got to the question wasn't completely gung ho and okaying what he wanted, but Peyton wasn't entirely sure why he had expected different. He wasn't entirely sure why he had expected Marc to give rousing yes or a rousing no, but, well, a habit was a habit. "<b>Not a smoker either?</b>" he questioned. On the tip of his tongue, he wanted to say 'you don't smoke, you don't drink, what do you do', but it sounded unnecessarily harsh to his own ears. That was something you said to your buddy, that was what he said to his uptight friend in the army who had done none of those things and he knew would just give him a dour look before snorting. That wasn't something you said to a man you just met the night before and had slept with after that. "<b>Never join the army,</b>" he commented, forming the words around the cigarette in his mouth. "<b>I'm pretty sure they require us by law to start smoking at some point.</b>" Peyton had tried cigarettes when he had been a teenager of course, but it had never had any appeal. Not until he had been in the army. Then it had been like it was something extra to do, it was something he could do while he was on watch and if you caught lung cancer, you might not make it through the war anyway so smoke if you had them. He had thought about quitting off and on since he had left his army life behind him but nothing had come of it. It was just a lingering habit now; it was something to do while he waited for his life to pass him by.
<p>
Marc perked after a moment, after his mind seemed to catch up to what Peyton was suggesting, and Peyton had thought he couldn't get more adorable. Wrapped up in a blanket, hair mussed and just looking so...eager, Peyton was sure his heart would never recover. "<b>You're incorrigible and I love it,</b>" he grinned. "<b>Of course maybe we're both enablers for each other, I'm not going to complain.</b>" Why would he? How could he? Marc had been willing to leave work early for him. Peyton hadn't wanted to get out of the warm cocoon of the blankets and Marc's body and now...Well, they were both allowed a little terribleness right? He watched Marc gather up the sheets more, wrapping himself up more so he could wander closer. Peyton couldn't stop the slight grin that crossed his face, the soft feeling of warmth in his chest because...when was the last time he had dated someone cute? Even with just cycling through people, when had he ever gone 'this person looks adorable'? He gave a soft laugh as Marc wrinkled his nose and he took a moment to put the cigarette in the ashtray, pushing it a bit closer to the window so maybe the smell would carry out. In that moment it took for him to do that, Marc reached out to brush a hand over his cheek and then there was a Marc in his lap. Without thinking, Peyton wrapped his arms around the smaller man, pulling him in closer as Marc squirmed to get comfortable and then tucked his head right up under Peyton's chin. "<b>I think you just made me the happiest man in the world, baby.</b>" More than that. It made something burn so pleasantly in his chest and he had to wonder what the fall out would be.
<p>
With a tightening of his arms, he dismissed that thought. He didn't need to think there was going to be a fall out with this, he didn't have to make it a reality. They could just be happy. "<b>You sure you wanna spend the entire day with me here? Alone?</b>" he pulled back just enough so Marc could see him waggle his eyebrows a bit. Truthfully while he wouldn't mind more of a round, more intimacy between them, he didn't think the idea of just curling up in bed together was a terrible thing either. The two of them could just curl up back into bed, snuggle and maybe get a little bit more sleep. Later Peyton could bring in his laptop and they could watch some movies or something, Marc could tell him of all the places around here to eat. Even if Peyton's job had a tendency to make sure its employees were actually sick during their sick time, he could always point out that what did people expect? He was in a motel room; there wasn't exactly a choice of food to be had. It was either go hungry or go out. And if Marc was tagging along? Well, Peyton had been feeling very woozy and Marc was helping him.
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Marc Miller

Marc made a small, content noise as Peyton kissed him. It wasn't as deep as some of the kisses that they had shared last night, not as hungry or urgent, but it did things to him nonetheless. It filled him with longing and contentment - a contentment that was similar to the way he had felt curled up in Peyton's arms. "It is not," he protested when Peyton teased him. "It's even earlier than I normally get up so it's morning for me." He fell silent quickly, however, when Peyton leaned down and nuzzled against his hair. If he hadn't been so busy watching the way his fingers traced light patterns over Peyton's skin he honestly would have closed his eyes and let himself fall back asleep just so that he could experience the feeling of warm security that came with the other man's arms around him and his nose practically burying itself into Marc's hair. Marc wasn't so sure that he could honestly say that he had never felt this level of want, because he had wanted things in his life desperately. He had pined and wanted and prayed for James to notice him. He had wanted so desperately for Prosper to just show up one day like some romantic movie and say he'd moved here just for Marc. He had wanted and hoped for an awful lot but this felt so different. He couldn't put a name to it. He could only say that it just felt good. It just felt right. It felt like everything in his life had just lead up to this point in time and maybe, just maybe, all of the struggles of before had been there to give him stepping stones to this point. He made another small noise, another sound that was practically a purr, as Peyton scratched his fingers through the hair at the back of his head again. "Mmm... I like that," he murmured the words out needlessly.

He made another small sound of contentment when Peyton smoothed his hair back. All he could do was just... drink it up, he supposed. It wasn't true to say he'd never had a relationship in person, because he had. Granted, it had only lasted a few months and it hadn't been overly physically affectionate but there had been small things. And he had grown up around Gabi and James, both people were physically affectionate people. But, overall in his life, he had been lacking in a lot of physical affection and right now it was all he could do to just soak it up and enjoy every second of it. He missed the warmth of the other man when he got up and moved to the window. He shook his head at the question. "No, ah... well, I smoked cloves for a little while," he finally admitted. "But I quit a year or two ago.' Because they were still bad for you, even if they weren't as bad as cigarettes. Because he had always been nagging James to stop smoking and James had rightfully pointed out he was being a hypocrite and because Gabi had begged him to stop, too. He didn't add that he had also smoked weed once. After all, he didn't know the stance of how Peyton might feel about that and, honestly, it had been once with the three of them just experimenting. He smiled and then gave a small laugh at Peyton's words. "I don't think that will ever be an issue." Marc would probably wither up and die in a place like the army and it didn't take knowing him long to figure that out. Not to mention he wasn't really the most physically fit of people and he wasn't likely to change that. He got his exercise in walking to and from work and that was about the extent of it. Being forced to get up early - another thing he would hate - and then forced to exercise every day? He would hate it.

Marc sunk down a tiny bit, pulling the blanket around him more, looking both parts pleased and embarrassed at the grin that was shot his way and the words along with it. "I'm not going to complain," he finally said, feeling his cheeks flush just a tiny bit. He was happy. He was more than happy. Not only had last night been... wonderful but Peyton had actually called up the office he was supposed to be doing work for and called out. Peyton had wanted to stay here with him rather than doing his job. It was a heady sort of feeling and he could hardly even begin to believe it. To go from just sighing over his life to waking up in the warm arms of a handsome man who he was finding he enjoyed being around a lot... it was a different morning altogether. The grin that the other man kept giving him was going to do something to him, he was sure. It was so confident and sure and just... did things to his heart. Peyton didn't protest in the least when Marc slid into his lap. Instead, he just wrapped his arms around him and helped him find a good spot to settle down in. Marc felt like there was no fear of falling now, not with those strong arms around him and his head tucked up underneath the older man's chin, his cheek resting somewhat against Peyton's bare chest and scenting the lingering smell of tobacco on him. "I don't know, Pey. You'd have to be happier'n me for that," he murmured softly. He didn't think he could even handle being this happy. He didn't know how he would ever be this happy again.

Marc shifted just a little bit, turning more towards Peyton and pressing his face firmly against the older man's shoulder as the arms tightened around him. He could cheerfully fall asleep right here, but that wouldn't be very fair to Peyton, really. He was likely tired, too, and he would be burdened with at least some of the task of keeping Marc upright and hotel chairs were never particularly comfortable in the first place. "I dunno. Are you gonna do more scandalous things like cuddle and snore?" Marc fired back at him, amazed at the fact that he was able to tease him. It usually took awhile before he could feel his way around someone to feel comfortable enough to actually tease them. With Peyton he just felt... okay. He felt comfortable and content. He shifted so that his head was no longer tucked beneath Peyton's chin and brought a hand up to rest in Peyton's hair for a moment before sliding it down to his cheek and then his chin. Idly, he rubbed his fingers through the goatee and stubble that was there, just letting himself get lost in looking at Peyton's face and into his blue, blue eyes. "I can't think of anythin' better than staying with you all day." It was the truth, he realized. He didn't want to go back home. Oh, sure, he might need to go get clothing or something of the like but... he didn't want to go home. What was at home? Nothing but silence. Here there had been laughter and love and whispered words and warmth. He wanted that as long as he could get it.
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Peyton Brooks
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Peyton let his hand trail through Marc's hair, watching the younger man with eyes that he knew were soft with affection because that was all he could feel."<b>Maybe it's me who's out of whack. Never could quite figure out the time differences.</b>" Because he had been in the army, because he had been in all manner of countries, because he had had night shifts as well as morning shifts. There had been a time when night and day bled together and he just slept whenever he could. Coming home, coming back to the states and taking on a normal job had been the hardest thing he had ever done. At the same time, he couldn't fully complain about it because it had brought him to Marc. He couldn't hate a normal job that brought him down to a place he never would have thought about going to otherwise."<b>You're like a cat,</b>" he laughed softly as Marc practically purred. It seemed to suit Marc, though Peyton was beginning to think he was a bit biased. Marc was, simply put, just cute. He had those little freckles splotched all over his skin, he had an endearing smile and a soft accent that you didn't really notice until certain words. He was shy, he was soft spoken, he had been all kinds of perfect. Maybe it was a bias to think that Marc reminded him of anything cute. No one could blame him for that, right? And he felt that if people just spent five minutes with Marc, they'd realize just how true it was. Again, maybe that was the bias.
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He would never get tired of touching Marc. The thought drifted through his head, surprisingly soft and surprisingly serious. As much as he told himself he wasn't a dewy eyed kid anymore, he still found himself thinking about this in terms of 'forever'. He told himself to put on the breaks, but he was pretty sure the breaks had been cut. "<b>Cloves?</b>" he repeated. He didn't think he had ever known anyone who had smoked cloves. Back when he had been a teenager, he had certainly <i>smelled</i> other students as surely as the cigarette and weed smokers. But he had never talked to them. Somehow it fit, somehow when Marc said that, all Peyton could think was that it totally fit. "<b>Good for you on quitting. It couldn't have been easy.</b>" Peyton was just in the habit now. He couldn't say he even really <i>liked</i> it. But then again, Marc was from a younger generation too, wasn't he? His generation had grown up with all the ads warning people of what happened, of people cracking down or where you could and couldn't smoke. Peyton wasn't old enough to be saying he came from a time when people still thought it was healthy to smoke when pregnant or something, but he distinctly remembered going on airplanes when he had been a kid and there had been people smoking. "<b>Good. It'd be a stupid mistake anyway. You got your whole life in front of you, rather than wasting it like I did.</b>" That was what Tibby had said pretty constantly when he had officially quite the army. He had pointed out that Peyton spent his prime years fighting someone else's war. He had zipped through college rather than getting the experience. When Peyton had sourly pointed out that it wasn't like he was old, Tibby had countered with the fact that he wasn't young either. He had come back and suddenly all the people in his dating pool all had real careers and partners and kids and Peyton had never really even spent multiple evenings out just having fun.
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He gave a laugh as Marc said he wasn't going to complain. "<b>Two peas in a pod we are then.</b>" He was...glad. There were so many ways this could have gone – he hesitated to say 'wrong' but it was the only word he could think of. What if Marc hadn't had time to serve him? What if they hadn't talked enough to notice they liked each other? What if they had gotten back to the room and one of them changed their minds? What if Marc hadn't said anything about being a virgin and Peyton had been too rough to make it an enjoyable first time? But fate had worked out for them. A kindness had been given to them and he would have been a fool not to take advantage of that. He would have been <i>stupid</i> to look at this gift and go 'well, I have to go to work, goodbye'. He held his arms tighter around Marc as the younger man settled, nestling his chin on top of Marc's head. When Marc spoke, using that little nickname that sounded so much...more, better from Marc, he tried to tilt his head down some. "<b>Are we going to have a contest? See who can be the happiest man in the world right now.</b>" As if to prove his point, he wrapped his arms more around Marc, tilting him just enough to be somewhat off balance and pressed his lips to Marc's cheek. He started raining kisses over the other man's face as if it were somehow going to win by kissing. That was the kind of battle he could get behind, though. If only they could all wind up like that.
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He could get use to this. Having this warm weight, feeling Marc turn into him and cuddle in close...It was almost scary how easy it was to handle. When Marc countered his reply, he gave a mock gasp. "<b>How dare you, I do not <i>snore</i>. I'll have you know I stayed awake all night once just to make sure it wasn't me who was the snorer.</b>" All right, so he knew he snored. It was a given. It just kind of happened, though he would stand by the fact that he didn't keep anyone awake with it. At the same time he could hear the teasing tone in Marc's voice and it was just...relaxing, as odd as that had to sound. When was the last time he had been teased? God, it had to have been his brothers or sister or even his army buddies. It certainly hadn't been one of his partners. Then again, maybe he had just been all sorts of wrong with his partners. Look at Marc; he was the exact opposite of what he looked for in a man, but he had had the most satisfying night ever with him. Who was to say he hadn't been picking out the wrong personality too? He let his eyes slip closed when Marc put his hand in his hair, then dragging it down to his cheek, his chin...and then he rubbed his fingers through Peyton's stubble that he hadn't been trimming back down to the more normal goatee and he felt himself almost purr like Marc had. He gave a slow easy grin as Marc said he could think of nothing better. "<b>Good. I'll need someone to take care of me with how deathly ill I'm sure the managers think I am.</b>"
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Marc Miller

He wanted to stretch out luxuriously and curl up in a tight ball, all pressed up against the other man as he did so. He was so content and warm and happy and every time he peeked up at Peyton he was pretty sure that he saw more fond affection in those beautiful blue eyes than he had seen in the eyes of just about anyone he knew, save perhaps Gabi and James. Even then, it was a different look. "Maybe it doesn't matter," he said. Because it didn't. It didn't matter if Peyton thought it was afternoon and Marc thought it was morning. It didn't matter one bit. What mattered was just that they were here and together. Peyton could say it was morning, noon or night for all Marc cared. He ducked his head a little bit as Peyton laughed softly and said he was like a cat. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" he asked shyly. Marc, personally, liked cats a lot and he certainly didn't see much wrong in acting like one at least in terms of enjoying the way that Peyton was scratching his fingers against his scalp. Maybe Peyton would, though. Maybe Peyton didn't like cats or thought Marc was acting a bit strange. Then again, he didn't seem all that bothered by it. He was just smiling at him and he was still doing what he had been doing to cause Marc to do that in the first place. So maybe it wasn't that big of a deal. "I like cats," he said after a moment, ducking his head some and burrowing his face against Peyton's chest. He breathed in the older man's scent and let out another small, contented sigh at the warmth, the scent, and the fingers scratching against the back of his head through his hair.

Selfishly, stupidly, Marc didn't want either of them to leave ever again. He didn't want the real world to intrude on this. He didn't want to share the time that he had with Peyton with anyone or anything else. He wanted to just lie here, to feel that touch against his hair, his cheek, his shoulder, forever. He wanted to just feel those arms around him and the lips against his forehead. He just wanted nothing but Peyton. He ducked his head in slight embarrassment as Peyton repeated what he had said. "Y'know, I thought they were cool." It was embarrassing to admit that, but it was true. He had never been much of a rebel, although he had always been different. It had been his one way of rebelling against everything. It had cost money, though, and smelled a lot. Plus, as Gabi had pointed out to him and the both of them to James, it was bad for your health. "The first couple of days was hard," he said with a light shrug. "After that it wasn't a big deal." But then, he hadn't smoked them that long. A year or two at most. He also had never had much of an addictive personality. Even caffeine wasn't a big thing for him, though he did drink soda a fair amount. He had just distracted himself with other things and the cravings had gone away. It had been easy, really. He tilted his head to the side a little as Peyton said that he had his whole life ahead of him and going into the army would be throwing it away. "Do you feel like you did?" Marc asked him, honestly curious. Peyton had seemed worn and tired in general but he hadn't exactly spoken about the army with chagrin. He had seemed bemused by normal life more than anything. "Sorry, you don't... I mean, it's kind of a personal question so you don't have to answer if you don't want to." He rushed the words out. He wanted to get to know Peyton more but he also didn't want to intrude too much. Everyone had their things they wouldn't want to talk about at all or, at least, immediately. They hadn't even known each other a full twenty four hours yet. There might be things Peyton didn't want to talk about.

Marc smiled shyly at him as the older man laughed and said that they were two peas in a pod. "I sure hope so." It seemed that way. Marc knew that things could change, though. They might get along in short term but not long term - and should he even be thinking of long term? Peyton might be hiding behind a mask. One of them might say something that severely hurt or offended the other. But... it seemed like things were going well. It seemed like things had been meant to go well. Peyton had been sent here on this job. He had come into Marc's bar when Marc was working. They both had shown interest and responded. His manager had let him leave early. They had kept their interest in each other the whole night. Their bodies had matched as well as their interest and their personalities. Peyton's work had been understanding that he had called off. Peyton wanted to actually cuddle with him rather than go to work. Things just seemed to be lining up in a way they didn't normally and he couldn't help but to be pleased at it. He smiled as a weight rested on top of his head, as it shifted a little. When Peyton spoke he smiled a tiny bit. "Maybe," he said. He intended to add more to that but he never got the chance. One second, the blond had shifted him to press a kiss against his cheek. The next, he was kissing against his entire face, shifting every kiss or two to hit another area. Marc couldn't help the way he reacted. "Nooooooooooooo," he practically moaned the word out as he squirmed in Peyton's grasp, simultaneously desperately trying to get away while trying to not leave the comfort of his arms and lap. If there was any doubt about whether or not he was fine with what the older man was doing, however, it was dismissed with the fact that he was laughing hard enough that he was having trouble breathing. The squeaks and shrieks and other noises he was making was probably enough to convince anyone else in the vicinity that someone was being murdered. "That's cheatin'," he managed to get out before he moved a hand to Peyton's cheek, turning his head enough to press a kiss there. "Cheater."

He settled back into Peyton's lap, still breathing a little heavily, but content. It was almost terrifying to realize how easily he could just get used to this. How much he wanted to get used to it. He could see himself sitting in Peyton's lap a year, ten years, from now and not even bat an eye. He gave a laugh at Peyton's words. "Must have been some trucks downshifting out on the street or a few motorcycles racing then," he teased again. In truth, it hadn't bothered him much. Sometimes things woke him up but he wasn't really a light sleeper. He also usually could roll back over and go to sleep once the sound had stopped. He had poked Peyton a few times the one time the snoring had woken him up and the man had just muttered sleepily and settled enough that the snoring temporarily ceased and Marc had slid back into slumber. "You're like a cat, baby," he said, mimicking what Peyton had said earlier. He kept scratching his fingers over and through the stubble and beard, watching the way Peyton's eyes closed and he seemed to just enjoy it. He felt his heart flip flop inside of his chest as Peyton gave him that slow, wonderful, handsome grin. "I'll take good care of you," he promised.
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Peyton Brooks
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Watching Marc was quickly becoming Peyton's favorite thing to do. Watching him, just learning the map of his features. He'd never felt like he had fallen so hard for somebody before. Tibby probably would have said it because he hadn't been getting enough...attention, as it were, but Peyton didn't think it was that. He'd always been a fairly down to earth sort of person and he didn't ever particularly remember confusing lust and love. Maybe when he had been a teenager and things had been a lot more confusing, but there had always been a distinct difference between it all for him. "<b>I suppose it doesn't,</b>" he said easily. It was splitting hairs. It had no baring whatsoever...except if it was interrupting Marc's schedule, if it was afternoon for Peyton, but some how acting as two am for a normal person for Marc. Any other time frame was just chattering just to chatter. He watched as Marc ducked his head, a move that made him want to chase after him with a kiss. "<b>Good things. I like cats well enough. They're good pets.</b>" And there was always something to be said about feline behavior in the right person. The right person could pull it off, make it look cute and just all the more adorable...and Marc was one of those people. Logically, Peyton knew he was fast becoming biased but he didn't care. He didn't have to hide that as a secret, did he? He doubted it. He grinned as Marc said he liked cats. "<b>I could have guessed that,</b>" he teased. "<b>what's your opinion on dogs, though?</b>" Because if someone had told him he had to pick between one or the other, Peyton would say he had to pick dogs. It had just always been his thing. He liked cats, but he preferred dogs because they were more likely to be companions that would go on walks and would be able to spend time in the backyard with him. Cats could do that, he supposed, but most never liked leashes and Peyton would have been damned before he let a pet cat go outside without a leash.
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He pressed his face down against Marc's head, breathing in the scent and trying to imagine it mingled with cloves. Had he ever smelled cloves? He was sure some kids in his high school had smoked them – it was Chicago, after all – but he couldn't remember. "<b>Are they cool? I was in high school too many years ago and I think Chicago high schools think weed is cool, so.</b>" He waved a hand and gave the barest of shrugs. Maybe it had been part of the cliques that had wandered about his school. Peyton didn't know for sure; it had been at least twenty years since he had been in high school and from what he had remembered, he and Tibby had been their own little clique. They had had friends all over and they had never really been easily defined. He didn't remember many of his classmates being easily defined. "<b>Look at you, you're so tough, baby. First couple of days and then feh, it was nothing.</b>" He gave Marc a tiny bit of a squeeze, hopefully conveying that while it was a tease, ti was true too. Peyton had never tried to quit anything before...but then he had never really looked at the stuff he did as inherently unhealthy. When he had been a kid, all the adults smoked and drank. When he had been a kid, when he had asked his dad for a sip of beer or trying a cigarette, he had gone 'here you go'. Now there were advertisements everywhere talking about how awful it was. He fell silent as Marc asked if he felt like he had thrown his life away. It was quickly followed by Marc stumbling over himself to assure him that he didn't have to answer if he didn't want to. "<b>Nah,</b>" he said easily, "<b>I mean, not really. My mom – my biological mom – she was in the army almost the entire I time I knew her.</b>" He grinned at Marc a little. "<b>I always remembered her talking to me about how she really believed in the country and how she wanted to do everything she could. Sometimes she said she regretted not being home much, but she was happy. I guess I never really thought of it as throwing my life away because I always thought of it as an honor. Plus I got to travel the world and didn't have to pay a dime for it.</b>" Granted some of those areas had been more war torn than others, but he had learned to deal.
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"<b>Oh I think we are.</b>" Maybe it was too early to tell but Peyton had learned long ago not to ignore his gut instincts. His gut instinct had helped him through some really hard times and now...now it was trying to tell him that this felt right. He didn't know if it would be a "forever" thing, but it felt serious in the pit of his stomach. IT felt like something that would have years on it. Was it just the first brush of love? Again he had to wonder if it wasn't just him being mildly desperate, but he didn't think so. Even when he had been a young twenty something kid who hadn't realized that being on a tour of duty meant that meeting men and women was next to impossible did he ever try to put more feeling into something than was there. There had been some people he clicked with, some he didn't. None of them felt right like Marc did. None of them had made him feel so completed or had never made him laugh when they squirmed from his kisses. He chuckled in between the rain of kisses as Marc almost whined out the no but had begun laughing at the treatment. "<b>Hm, I think we're still at a tie, though, because you seemed awfully happy right there.</b>" He grinned as Marc put a hand to his cheek, turning his head so he could get kissed. "<b>Oh, baby, didn't they tell you? All's fair in love and war and I'm all done with the wars.</b>" He nuzzled against Marc's hand, tilting his head so he could kiss the palm.
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Marc settled back and Peyton settled with him, pressing his face lightly against his shoulder and letting his eyes slip closed for a brief moment. "<b>Mmhmm, makes more sense than me snoring.</b>" Even as he said it, there was a part of him that wondered if maybe he hadn't been snoring too loudly. A part of him wondered if he should look into finding something to help with it. That meant he was thinking about this even more long term, wasn't he? No matter how many times he told himself he was going to be gone in roughly a week, he couldn't help thinking about what life would be like staying, what it would be like living there and coming home to this every day, lying down together to sleep. "<b>Thank goodness you like cats, otherwise I'd be screwed.</b>" He couldn't deny that it felt good, he couldn't deny that it made him happy...and he liked that Marc had said he was like a cat. Now, there was always the case of that maybe Marc <i>did</i> mean it in a less than kind way. After all, cats could be mean and selfish jerks – all animals could. Marc might have meant it in that way, but Marc's voice had been soft, pleased, happy. "<b>Oh thank goodness. I knew I could rely on you. Thank goodness I have you here to help me, baby.</b>" He nuzzled his face back into Marc's neck, inhaling his scent and letting himself be soothed by the feeling of having Marc's warmth with him.
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Marc Miller

Marc couldn't stop himself from wriggling just a tiny bit as Peyton agreed with him. He was glad that he had although he recognized that, really, it didn't matter all that much in the long run. It wasn't as if they had been arguing about it and it wasn't as if the subject was anything of great importance. He was just pleased that Peyton had agreed with him but, in the grand scheme of things, it was about something that didn't matter all that much although the vague thought flitted through his head that if - when? - they lived together that one of them was going to have to suffer a schedule change or they would have to go through life only seeing each other on days off and odd times when their schedules met up. He tried to shake that off because that was quite obviously thinking far too deeply into things. He was pleased when Peyton said he liked cats. It meant more than just one thing to Marc. It meant Peyton saying that Marc was like a cat was definitely a good thing and also that Peyton liked cats - which was great because Marc had always wanted a cat. He ducked his head a little again as Peyton teased him and then he brought his gaze back up to the older man as he asked what his opinion on dogs was. Marc held his gaze solemnly for a moment before he spoke, his voice dropping to a whisper spoken in an equally solemn tone. "I fucking love dogs." He continued to hold that solemn gaze but he was anything but. He was excited at the mere thought of having a dog, too - even when he told himself that was jumping the gun even more than he had just a few moments ago.

He made a small, content sound as Peyton pressed his face against the top of his head and he let his eyes dip closed for the moment, just reveling in the feel of it. He let his head dip down a little, feeling his cheeks heat up a tiny bit with the blush. "Well, I thoughtthey were cool... I doubt they actually are." After all, he hadn't been exactly the height of what anyone considered cool in high school. He had only escaped being picked on mostly because James would deck anyone that so much as breathed wrong in any of their directions. That and, honestly, most of the people in school just tended to ignore him it felt like. He had had friends, yes, but most people were busy with their own classes and friends and Marc was very easy to just forget was there. Not everyone went without picking on him, of course, but it would be false to say that he was constantly bullied, too. Marc just ducked his head again, huddling up more in the blanket as if he could hide inside of it at his pleased embarrassment - both at being told that he was tough and at the endearment slipping out of Peyton's mouth yet again. He didn't think he would ever get used to that. "I'm not, it was just. I dunno. I mean it sucked the first week or so but..." He just shrugged his shoulders. It just hadn't even been something he thought too much about. Once the cravings had disappeared that was it. He didn't need to even think about it anymore and he hadn't. It had probably helped that he couldn't really afford to be splurging on extras like alcohol and cigarettes and the like. He wouldn't say he was scraping the barrel but he had to make choices about what kind of special treats he was allowed and when it came between that and internet, well, it didn't even hold a candle. He fell silent as Peyton did, fidgeting just a little as he hoped that he hadn't offended him somehow. Then the other man spoke and Marc just listened intently, taking the time to learn a little more about the other man. He made a small murmuring noise - not quite an agreement, but close - at the things that Peyton said. "I don't think it would be for me... but it seems like it worked for you." And, really, that was all that mattered, wasn't it?

Marc wriggled just a little in Peyton's hold as he said that he thought they are, his tone so confident and sure and Marc couldn't do anything but agree with him. God, he didn't think anyone had ever made him feel this way, had they? Sure, he'd been in love with James for years and he really had loved Prosper but had either of them made him feel like this? Probably not, honestly. Not out of cruelty but... well, James had never been in love with him. He and Prosper had really, honestly liked one another but... the timing and the distance had just ruined things there. His one relationship before that hadn't been much to talk about. With Peyton, things were different, it felt like. It felt like he had been playing with the idea of things before all of this and now this was the real deal. It was hard to think too deeply, however, when he was laughing and wheezing and Peyton just kept kissing all over his face. When Peyton finally stopped, he could only breath hard and then snort a little at Peyton's words. "I was begging for mercy, didn't you hear me?" he asked as pushed Peyton's face away. The words all died as Peyton spoke again and turned his head to nuzzle at Marc's hand to kiss his palm. Marc leaned in to kiss him on the lips that time, a firm kiss that ended with his hand sliding up to the dirty blond strands of hair and burying in them. "I like the sound of that," he said, softly.

Marc let his eyes dip half-closed as Peyton pressed his face against his shoulder. It was such a comfortable feeling, sitting here like this and just relaxing together. He didn't think he could ever have anything else ever again. Nothing would be better than being in Peyton's hold and feeling the warmth. "There must have been a lot of semi-trucks," he teased gently. In truth, it had only woken him up once so he honestly didn't even know how bad it was. It might have just been one portion of the night. Really, he wasn't too bothered about it at all. It had proven easy to get the snoring shut off so what did it matter? He kept scratching his fingers idly through Peyton's stubble before he caught the other man's gaze again and spoke in another solemn tone. "I fucking love cats," he told the other man. Marc turned happily more into Peyton's hold as the older man nuzzled against his neck and spoke. "I'll always take care of you, baby." And he meant it, stupid though it was to say. He would take care of Peyton for the rest of their lives if that was how it panned out. He couldn't imagine not doing it.
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Peyton Brooks
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It was surprisingly easy to fall into this pattern, this feeling of...rightness. He had always thought he was kind of a middle of the road with romance, just like everyone. He liked to believe true love existed in some form or another, but at the same time he understood that movies were just movies. People fell in love so quick and fast because they had a writer pointing out all the good qualities of a partner, the perfect ones, and kept making it so they would meet up throughout the day. But with Marc...maybe he was just trying to make up for the fact that he also wasn't the sort of guy who just went sleeping around with people, he didn't know. All he really knew was that Marc felt different. He felt more complete than any man or woman Peyton had met. Which was really strange when he thought about it because Marc couldn't be anymore opposite from him. The stuff he talked about? The way he looked? None of that mattered in the long run, though. None of that mattered right now because he was stroking a hand up and down Marc's side and Marc was warm and...Peyton was happy. He raised an eyebrow as Marc looked at him after he asked finished asking about dogs, holding Peyton's gaze....then Marc said in an almost whisper that he fucking loved dogs. Peyton couldn't stop himself from laughing, rolling the tiniest bit away. "<b>Good,</b>" he offered between a chuckle. "<b>I think I'm more of a dog person than a cat person, but I like them both.</B>" Distantly he thought that the solution would be easy: just get a cat and a dog. But that was silly, that was utterly ridiculous...wasn't it? They had only just met last night, they had just slept together, did they really think that they were a proper couple that was moving in together?
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He could lie like this forever, he found himself thinking. He felt warm and cozy and loved. He didn't want to have to get up ever. "<b>I bet they were. You seem like a cool guy.</b>" He snuggled a little bit closer, hoping that somehow conveyed that he wasn't overly teasing. Marc wasn't what Peyton would call traditionally cool when Peyton had been a high schooler, but he could admit that times had changed. He had piercings, he had his own dress style...all right so maybe it was less cool and more cute in Peyton's opinion but he really doubted that <i>anyone</i> wanted someone in their thirties trying to convince people that they were cool, hip, and all those things. Plus this seemed like a pretty smaller town and the place Marc had come from sounded even smaller. Maybe he would have thrived better in a school where there were too many people to really be aware of the cliques that went by. Peyton was pretty sure that was what happened with him. Too many cliques and he had never been overly interested in them because he had Tibby and his other friends. "<b>Isn't that the way with everything?</b>" he sighed a little. "<b>I keep meaning to quit...well, a lot of things but the day never seems right or I trip up and I go 'well, next week then'.</b>" Because that was just the way Peyton had grown up. He and Marc were different generations; Marc had grown up when people were realizing all the dangers involved with smoking and drinking and various products that were overly common in Peyton's generation. Peyton had grown up with watching his dad get scratch off cards, so he had done it as soon as he was able. He had been part of the crowd that had started drinking underage and he had never stopped. He had tried smoking in high school, but it got the worst when he was in the army. There was never any time to just...quit, be it cold turkey or easing away. He could admire the people that had given whatever up. He gave a shrug at Marc's words. "<b>It let me get out of the house. It gave me a lot of experiences I'm glad I had, but there's a lot of stuff I wouldn't want to go through again or ask anyone else to. I've had to walk in on dead bodies, walk through minefields, and I've been caught behind walls during firefights. That's not exactly an easy thing to say 'sign me up for'. And most people never really have that feeling of 'I'm doing this for my country'.</b>" There had been quite a few people, but most of them had been people who needed help with school or had no other choice or had thought it was going to be easy right up until they were deployed.
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There was a part of Peyton that was trying to make this into probably a bigger deal than it needed to be, though he couldn't be sure which way honestly. There was a part of him that was trying to say that if Marc kept wriggling in his lap like that, he was going to prove that this was all just a phase because lust had been strong. At the same time, he felt himself thinking that because Marc was wriggling and the only reaction he had was being amused, this was something more. He felt addle headed, he felt like he was having trouble thinking because he was just...well, he was happy. He felt in love and this was the kind of love he had never felt before, really. Maybe it was because of Marc's laugh, his breathless wheezing and just how happy <i>he</i> sounded. Peyton couldn't stop his laugh as Marc shoved at his face. "<b>Why do you think I did it? All so I could drown out the mercy cries.</b>" Marc went silent, though, after Peyton's next words right before he leaned in and kissed him firmly as he stroked a hand through Peyton's hair. "<b>Me too,</b>" he said easily. Because it did. It sounded great, it sounded fantastic. With Marc here in his lap and kissing him, it sounded all so perfect. The voice that was saying wasn't this all a bit too soon was getting more and more distant, quieting because Peyton obviously wasn't listening anyway. Personally, Peyton didn't know what he could do to stop it if logic hadn't pulled it to a stop. If saying 'no we just met' wasn't enough to make him go 'we just met', what was he suppose to do? Just enjoy it for now, enjoy what they had and feel the love, he supposed.
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And he couldn't regret this choice. Not when he felt at peace for the first time since he had gotten out of the army. Had that been his problem before? Had he mistakenly just assumed that he was in limbo because of a job rather than a person? Of course he would think it was the job thing. Everyone talked about how a person couldn't define you, a person couldn't change anything. "<b>There were,</b>" he gave a nod, "<b>That's why there was so much noise.</b>" Maybe there would be ways to fix it, but it didn't seem to be a problem right in that moment. Right in that moment, it seemed to be in the beginning stages of a relationship: everything the partner did was all right, it wasn't terrible. Maybe it wouldn't make them fall deeply more in love but it was cute and sweet right now. The scratching in his beard felt surprisingly, amazingly good and he almost missed Marc trying to catch his eye. But he couldn't miss the words and that made him chuckle. "<b>Sweet, I'm in then.</b>" It was...adorable, really, that Marc liked both dogs and cats. He didn't even know why, so again it was probably the feeling of new love saying <i>everything</i> was adorable. He turned his head to press against Marc's neck, letting his lips rest there. "<b>Good. I appreciate it. And I'll always protect you.</b>" It was what he had to offer, it was what he could do. He would take care of marc in his best way, he would see that he had everything he needed. God, he was in deep, wasn't he? How could anyone be this deep after only just meeting?
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Marc Miller

Marc knew that he should keep a level head on him. It was hard, though. It was hard to do that when this felt so right. It was hard to do that when he could admit that he had always had a problem in doing that. It was one of the things that had made it so hard when James had first met Rosemary. it was one of the things that had made it so hard when he finally realized that no matter how much he and Prosper claimed to love one another Prosper wasn't moving to America and Marc wasn't moving to England. It was so very easy to let things build up in his mind to be more than what they were and he knew that. He knew it very well and yet he did it all the time. He knew he shouldn't do it here but... but Peyton was nice. He was gentle. He watched Marc with gentle eyes and he so lightly stroked his hair and his skin and Marc felt happy. He felt more than happy. He felt absolutely in love. He watched as Peyton blinked at him and then rolled away with a laugh at Marc's solemn words. Marc followed after him, scooting along the bed until he was right back up against Peyton's side again. "Both is good," Marc said, unable to contain the excitement out of his voice. It wasn't as if Peyton had said they were going to move in together and get a dog and a cat, after all. Despite that, he couldn't stop himself from feeling excited at the prospect of it. He would move in with Peyton and they would get a dog and a cat and it would be wonderful, right? It would be the perfect setup, the perfect beginning to a life. He couldn't stop himself from wriggling excitedly at the thought of it.

Marc kept finding himself thinking that he never wanted to get up. He never wanted to leave. He wanted to stay here in this bed for the rest of his life. It was impossible, of course. Yet he couldn't help but to pine for nothing changing. No real world intruding on this bubble of love and warmth and happiness that he had found. Maybe, for a little while, he would be able to keep a hold of it. Maybe the bubble wouldn't burst. Marc gave an embarrassed laugh as Peyton said he seemed like a cool guy. "I'm, uh, a nerd. I was not part of the cool kids." Granted, he honestly didn't remember there being some kind of "cool kid" clique in school either. He knew there were popular and unpopular people but he was really honestly busy with Gabi, James and Curtis and since James kept him protected from the rest of the school he never paid that much attention to anyone else. He knew some of them still in a vague sort of way, of course, but he wasn't a cool kid and neither were most of the people in school. "It's not easy but I decided I was spendin' too much money on them and it's not good for you to boot." He made sure to keep any reproach out of his voice. Peyton was nice but not everyone liked being told things like that. Not everyone wanted a lecture on their health. That had been the main reason he had quit though. He was already enough of a hypochondriac, Gabi had said, he didn't need to make himself start seeing other problems or for those problems to be real. He had agreed and then he had quit. He remembered being cranky for a week or two and then that was that. He had filled his cravings with other things and eventually it had all faded. He watched Peyton as he shrugged a little. He listened closely to the words and winced a little at some of the descriptions. "I can't imagine," he said, honestly. He couldn't imagine it. He knew he would never make it in the army for a variety of reasons. "I guess it works for some people but not everyone. Like anything." At least Peyton had known what he wanted to do. Marc still struggled with that.

Marc tried to tell himself that there had been plenty of times before in his life that he had been warm and content. There had been the time he stayed at Gabi's for a whole week and it had felt like a real home. It had felt warm and loving and open. There had been times when Gabi or James or Curt would come to him and say he was important to them and that warmed him. All of it, though, paled in comparison he felt. Nothing had ever felt quite like this and, really, how many times did you spend all night making love to a man - a stranger, a handsome and wonderful stranger - and then the next morning he ended up engaging in a kissing war with you enough that you were left breathless from laughter? He didn't think that was usually high up on the 'morning after' routines for people who had only just met. He should be skeptical of it all, he knew, but he found it hard to care when he was laughing and when Peyton was laughing. "That's just rude," he told the other man, still trying to catch his breath and smiling wider than he had probably smiled in a long time. He settled in close as Peyton said that it sounded good to him. He felt his eyes slide half-closed and he gave a small, content sounding sigh as he settled there. It was a sigh that said he couldn't be happier than he was in that moment, that he was just so wholly content and feeling loved and there was nothing else better than this.

Truthfully, he wasn't sure there was anything better than this. Peyton's arms were strong and firm. His hold was secure. He was warm. He felt paid attention to and loved. He felt important and like he mattered. How many times had that happened? How many times had he ever met that had so many things that he liked? Marc snorted a little at Peyton's almost solemn nod. "Well, I guess that's the downside to having a hotel on the road." Had he ever thought he could get to joke with someone like this? God. Was everything about Peyton perfect? He knew it couldn't be. He knew life didn't work that way but it was hard to not think it. He was so pleased with Peyton's reaction to the scratching. It had just been on a whim and yet it seemed to have an almost soothing effect on the other man. "Yeah, you are," he said honestly. He couldn't imagine Peyton not being in at this point. It helped that Peyton liked dogs, liked cats and that he was acting like a big cat. He curled a little more in against Peyton as he pressed his lips against his neck. "I know you will, baby," he said, running his fingers over Peyton's muscles lightly. He was silent for a long moment, just petting Peyton's arms and sides lightly as he rested there in his lap. "Y'know," he said after a long moment. "I got a friend and we all just kind of. Sighed and shook our heads and laughed when he met his wife because they decided they were in love the moment they met and they're like. Super gross even now after five or six years. And I always thought they were... I dunno. Making it up? Exaggerating? I just kept thinking no one can be that in love after one night." He was silent for another moment, squirming slightly in a bit of awkward embarrassment, his cheeks heating up. "Now I'm not so sure though."
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Peyton Brooks
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He moved his head down so he could nuzzle at Marc's shoulder, gently pressing his lips there. He should be pulling back, the words kept telling him. He needed to put some distance between this before everything snowballed out of his control...except it felt like the moment he and Marc spoke it had been out of his control, from the moment Marc had thought he was being too awkward and didn't realize just how charming he could be. At the same time, he felt like this was all a bit much. He was closer to forty than he was to thirty these days, he had been a career soldier for almost twenty years...he knew the reality of things, didn't he? But when he rolled away from Marc to laugh and Marc scooted right back to him so he could press up against Peyton's side, the reality of things seemed to point to Marc being perfect to him. "<b>I suppose both are good,</b>" he agreed easily, wrapping an arm around Marc to pull him a little more firmly against his side. It felt good to have him there, it felt like that was where Marc belonged. The thought of having a cat and a dog and Marc was...it filled him with this odd sort of contentment. It made him think of working a long day and coming home and there was Marc ready to greet him with a dog running about his feet and a cat lying on the couch with its tail flicking up in disinterest. As soon as he thought it, he tried to dismiss it because it was such a silly idea, wasn't it? It was utterly ridiculous because he had just met Marc, they had just spent one night together and that...that was it, wasn't it? Peyton still lived in Chicago, Marc still lived in Texas, they didn't really <i>know</i> each other. That was the major thing that got to Peyton right now. They – he – was living on an ideal fantasy. Who knew if Marc wanted to stay at home to greet Peyton? Who knew what he would like in a house? It was built up around what Peyton wanted and that wasn't going to work for reality.
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He nuzzled closer, kissing along Marc's jaw as the younger man gave an embarrassed laugh and said he was a nerd. "<b>Aren't the nerds the ones everyone realize are cool later in life?</b>" he asked a little idly, "<b>I think you're cool.</b>" When Peyton had been in high school, the cool kids had always been...well, it had been a very "at your discretion" sort of thing. Did you like smoking and doing drugs? Those were the cool kids. Did you like "extreme" bike and skateboard tricks? Those were your people. It was all dependent on what you wanted. Now, maybe that was different for what was "popular" because that was entirely different...but even then, Peyton never really remembered what those had been like in his school. There had been no queen bee or some jock who controlled the school with an iron fist, but then again maybe he had been so secure in who he was at the time that it had never touched him. He had had his brother and his little sister, he had had his friends, what did he need some jock telling him what was the in thing to do? Then again, maybe he was close enough to being a jock he got left alone. He settled into the chair a bit more, blowing smoke out the window. "<b>I think part of the reason I did it was the reason all of us did it: people were shooting at our heads, so what's a little lung cancer?</b>" And they had been their own dysfunctional family, so there had been very little 'I'll sell you a cigarette' sort of thing he had gotten once he was home. It wasn't always true – some of the soldiers didn't smoke because it hurt their lungs or they didn't want the habit, some were greedy with money and cigarettes – but it wasn't like Peyton could blame them much. Smoking was one of those things he always told himself he was going to quit. He told himself "today's the day", but then he was smoking one within the next hour. It was because he was bored, he supposed. It was something to do, even though he knew it wasn't healthy. Every day he told himself he was going to cut back, just like he was going to cut back on the whiskey he had to relax from getting home. It never happened and he always told himself that it wasn't so bad, he'd start the next day. "<b>There's being military police, which gets you into various places. That's how I wound up in a few places, but there's no promise you won't see warfare.</b>" He scratched at the side of his nose. "<b>Worse is the homecoming, though. No one ever tells you that.</b>"
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Was there an option here? Peyton didn't know of anything he could do to keep from sinking more and more in what he was pretty was love that didn't involve ripping a heart in half. There were options, certainly, but it was all things like shutting down, just shutting Marc out and trying to act like he hadn't liked what they were doing right now. He couldn't hide that he had liked the sex, that he had loved the sex...and maybe he couldn't hide Marc had been something <i>special</i> because he had taken the entire night to make love to him, to be gentle with him. If Marc hadn't been at least somewhat special, when he had told Peyton shyly that he was a virgin, Peyton would have shrugged or done his best to be nice but still focused what he wanted or called it quits entirely. And it was just so easy to fall into this easy morning after with Marc. How could he feasibly just act like none of that mattered? "<b>I'm just one rude dude, kitten, you better get use to it.</b>" The words made him mouth dry out a tiny bit. Chicago and Plainview were very, very far from each other after all. This was all well and good, this was nice, but Peyton was still leaving in a week's time because his job here would be done. Things didn't magically turn around because two people were in puppy love. Jobs didn't just go 'oh it's fine, you're in love' and send you on your way. Bills didn't stop because you had found someone you thought you were meant for. But even as he thought that, he couldn't help tightening his arms around Marc because he didn't want to leave this, he didn't want to buckle to the idea that he would have to leave and Marc wouldn't be there with him.
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He lifted a hand, carding his fingers through Marc's hair and then scratching lightly through the shorter strands. It felt like something he had always done and always wanted to do. "<b>I dunno, I seemed to have no problem when I was rooming alone. I'll have to complain about all the trucks driving by.</b>" He tightened his arms around Marc to show he was teasing. It may have been "quieter" while he was rooming alone, but it felt better to have someone there. It felt a little less lonely, it felt a little bit more like someone could actually live there as oppose to just existing. He leaned into Marc's touch, almost purred at Marc's words. He felt so stupidly pleased that he had managed to be the perfect person for Marc, even when he knew it was easy to be perfect after only one night. Who knew where they would be tomorrow? Or even later that day? A week was a long time when it came to love...and what would he do if they were still at that point when it came time for Peyton to go back to Chicago? It wasn't like Peyton could keep playing sick and ask his job to extend his time down here. He moved his hand down to pet over Marc's back as the younger man curled against him. When Marc spoke next, he tilted his head a little, looking down at him as he talked about his friend and the friend's wife. "<b>Love is weird,</b>" Peyton said after a moment, voice soft. "<b>It's one of those things that's both exactly like in the movies and not at all like in the movies. I dunno if I'd say we're super gross...but I do know I love you.</b>" The words had been breathed out the night before, in the middle of tiny cries and whimpers, but they hadn't really stuck, in Peyton's opinion. In the heat of the moment, it was easy to say everything, but it was the next day that mattered.
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Marc Miller

Marc made a soft, pleased little murmur as Peyton nuzzled at his shoulder and then pressed a light kiss against the skin. He couldn't stop a content sigh from falling from his lips, either. Maybe he should be wary. Maybe he should be suspicious or tell himself to pull himself back. He knew from past experience - from James, from Prosper - that Marc had a very bad tendency of building things up in his head until they were more than what they were. It was a dangerous, stupid thing to do but it was one of his many flaws. And he recognized that he was doing it here and now, all over again. Could he be blamed, though, when Peyton had been so careful with him and so sweet? When Peyton was kissing his shoulder and then laughing and letting Marc cuddled up against his side and putting an arm around him and pulling him even closer? It was hard to think of anything other than pure, unadulterated love with things like that. "I knew you'd agree!" Marc told him, almost eagerly. The way he said it, it was as if Peyton had said of course they could get a dog and a cat. Of course they would live together, of course they would have pets together. He knew better than that. He knew that was a bad way to think. Just because someone was sweet and kind didn't mean they wanted forever. Peyton might very well be a nice, wonderful man who had no interest in anything other than some fun time together and he knew he should be reminding himself of that. Even if Peyton was interested, Marc lived down in Texas and Peyton said he lived in Chicago. That was a long distance. He should be prepared for anything other than what he wanted. It was so hard, though, to think of all of that when Peyton was so warm and firm and they were lying close together like this.

Marc felt his eyes flutter closed as Peyton nuzzled against him more and then kissed along his jaw. He moved a hand to tangle in the dark blond strands of hair and just gave another small, content sounding sigh as the other man did that. He laughed a little at the question that Peyton put to him. "I'm not so sure about that. Maybe sometimes." Marc didn't think that happened anywhere but in the movies, really. Then again, maybe it would have if you were one of those nerds that went out and did something that got the attention of everyone else. Marc definitely wasn't that nerd. He was just the quiet one who hung out with his friends and that was that. That wasn't the kind of nerd that years later someone was going to say "That Marc, what a cool kid". Marc watched the older man for a moment, trying to not like the sight of him smoking out of the window. Smoking was bad for you, cost a lot of money and smelled up the place. Peyton, however, looked inordinately hot while doing it and he felt at war with himself over it. He shifted a little uncomfortably at the words. "I can't even imagine." It was the truth. He couldn't imagine being shot at and he couldn't imagine being so used to it that you would decide to slowly blacken your lungs because what did it matter? It was something Marc never wanted to experience and he certainly didn't now. He listened with his head tilted just a little as Peyton explained that he had been military police to get places. He blinked slightly at the second part. "How so?"

It was hard, he was finding, to think of a time before Peyton. Was that strange? He had only known Peyton for one day. Honestly, you couldn't even call it a full day. They had met in the early evening hours and it was just morning. They hadn't even known each other a full day and yet he couldn't even begin to imagine a world without the older man. That was terrible. He didn't know him, right? That was building things up in his head, like he always did. He couldn't help it. Not when there were strong arms wrapped around him and he was curled up in the other man's lap, like he had always been there and had always been meant to be there. Marc couldn't stop himself from squirming somewhat when Peyton called him kitten again, embarrassed and yet so full of a pleased warmth that he couldn't even begin to describe how happy it made him to hear it. "I like when you call me that, Pey," he said, almost idly, almost, for the moment, missing the implication that Peyton would be around a lot longer. When he realized it, he turned and butted his head up under Peyton's chin a little. "I think I could get used to it," he spoke softly, almost shyly. Because he could get used to it. He could get used to it quickly and easily. Listening to Peyton talk, hearing his words rumble in his chest, feeling the strong arms around him, just idly sitting together and talking. It was easy to get used to all of that. It was almost scary or, well, maybe it was scary because he had never felt this way about anyone so quickly and because it could so easily be taken away. He might be focusing on the good but he was Marc; he was a born worrier. Soon enough, he would start to focus on the potential negatives too. The thought made him bury his face against Peyton's neck for the moment with a small, frustrated sound at his own thoughts. He wanted to cherish this, not start worrying.

Those thoughts were swiftly discarded, however, when Peyton moved a hand up and carded his fingers through Marc's hair. The other man moved his fingers down to the back of his hand, lightly scratching them there again and Marc gave a low groan, letting his eyes flutter closed again in enjoyment. He let one eye open slightly as Peyton tightened an arm around him and teased him again. "You should. It was really loud. I thought the walls might rattle," he teased right back before he settled more into Peyton's hold, smiling happily too himself. He kept his hand against Peyton lightly, laughing lightly again when Peyton practically purred at the touch and the things that he said. It was easy to forget everything when Peyton was laughing, when he was holding him and Marc's heart was practically soaring. He shifted just a little, closer against Peyton, as the older man pet his hand over his back and then paused to look down at him and listened to the small story that he told. For the moment, he just nodded in agreement with Peyton's words. Love was weird. Marc had seen numerous examples of that. He wasn't going to argue. But then Peyton continued on and he felt his heart practically slam up from his chest and into his throat. He jerked away just a little, just enough so that he could sit upright, blue eyes gone wide. Then he reached out with both hands to rest on Peyton's cheeks, looking down into the older man's own blue, blue eyes. "Baby," he felt his voice waver just a little with emotion before he leaned in to kiss Peyton slowly. "I love you, too. I do. I don't think I've ever loved someone like this before." Maybe that was unfair to say, because he had loved wholeheartedly several times. Yet it had never been like this. He leaned in again to kiss the other man again, softer this time. "I love you," he repeated.
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Peyton Brooks
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He pressed his face against Marc's shoulder, just lying there and enjoying the younger man's warmth. He told himself to just enjoy this for right now. If it wasn't really anything important, they would burn out just like a campfire. They'd have their fun and then it would be done and they would both forget all the words they had said to each other over the night. Personally that didn't settle too well with Peyton. Personally, he didn't like thinking that he could whisper those important words to someone and not mean them. Who wanted to know that they could tell someone they loved them, that they were important, that they were beautiful and within the span of a week decide that it was nothing to really worry about it? Oh, he knew some people could do it. He knew some people didn't even bother with the words and they <i>preferred</i> it that way. He knew some people said the words to get what he wanted. But love and sex had always been something a bit more...serious for Peyton. It was why he had wanted to take his time with Marc when the younger man had said he was a virgin. He grinned, laughing slightly as Marc said he knew he agreed. "<b>Cats are a bit confusing to me,</b>" he offered, "<b>But I like them well enough. I guess I just like the fact that dogs are a bit more active.</b>" Cats always seemed to be very by your leave; they did things in their own time and when they played, it was always on their terms. Dogs, though? Dogs always seemed up for adventure and walks and playing. It was very rare when a dog didn't get excited when asked if they wanted to go for a walk. And maybe he was a bit biased because he had worked with a few dogs in the army. He had never been a handler, no, but when he had been military police, he had known a few of the guard dogs. When he had been in warzones, he had fought alongside a couple.
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He felt Marc's fingers in his hair, heard the content sound, and the laugh...and Peyton felt his own contentment smooth over everything. Every worry, every concern had a softer edge. "<b>Or maybe when you get older, it just doesn't really matter as much.</b>" Because it hadn't for any of them. He could freely admit he had met up with one or two old high school...well, they weren't buddies but people he had known. They had been people hung up on one thing or another that had never meshed with Peyton, but they had always been fairly nice when they met up again. They always asked how they were doing, what they were doing, they seemed impressed with Peyton's dedication to the army and no one ever said they expected it from the 'army kid'. It was all just mild and pleasant, but then again, maybe he just hadn't met anyone who had been so insufferable that it spanned over years. Maybe everyone just matured, with any luck. Maybe Marc wasn't old enough to know that yet. The thought wasn't exactly one he wanted. He told himself that Marc was definitely over the age of consent...but then his mind always fired back with the fact that it was a fifteen year difference. "<b>Most people can't, I don't think,</b>" he gave a soft chuckle, "<b>I don't think anyone can until it actually happens. And I don't wish it on anyone.</b>" He didn't. He didn't even wish it on people who thought they knew what they were getting into going into the army, because the fact of the matter was there was no way to really understand. People could tell you you would get shot at, but you wouldn't know what it felt like until you were lying flat on your back under a blazing sun, listening to gunfire that never seemed to take a pause and knowing if you moved, you would be hit. "<b>When I was fighting, we didn't really have beds. I slept on the ground. When I came home, my bed was too soft. Like sleeping on a marshmallow where I thought I was going to just slide to the ground. Depending on the area you fought in, you had to sleep with your shoes on because scorpions were notorious for creeping into your boots. First few weeks I was home, everything looked like a bomb because people would hide bombs in trash. God, I would walk to the other side of the road just to avoid big piles of it because I wasn't sure if it was going to be set off. They put bombs on everything – there was even a donkey once that was strapped with explosives. Your brain is wired for combat after even just one tour, when you're not in it anymore, how are you suppose to relax?</b>"
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Peyton loved having Marc in his lap. It was a move that he hadn't gotten to enjoy much with his partners before. Oh, some of the women he had dated would do it, but they didn't curl up nearly as perfectly. The men Peyton had dated? Well, none of them had been like Marc. They had all been strong, tough men that may have liked men but they'd be damned if it made them look...less. Less what, Peyton didn't know, but it wasn't like he could cast stones because he wasn't exactly a man who curled up in their laps either. It was like Marc fit perfectly with him. There was a spot specifically for Marc with him, it felt like. When Marc squirmed in his lap, Peyton tightened his arms around him, pulled him even caller. He smiled slightly as Marc said he liked when he called him 'kitten'. "<b>I like when you call me Pey,</b>" he responded. He did. He didn't think anyone had every given him a nickname before. Peyton, he had always felt, didn't lend itself to shortening or cute little twists. And Peyton himself seemed to rarely inspire pet names other than 'babe'. "<b>Yeah? Well, I'm glad.</b>" And he was. He was stupidly glad, stupidly happy...and he knew he needed to pull it back at least somewhat. He needed to look at all this rationally. But every time he thought about talking about anything in the future far enough that it was him leaving, his brain assured him that was future Peyton's problem. And future Peyton was all ready talking about how they had only just met and really, was he just going to ask Marc to move to Chicago for him or he'd move down to Texas so they could be together always? He shifted his arms as Marc buried his face against his neck, his hand coming up to stroke over the soft hair. It was future Peyton's problem. Right now, he had Marc to worry about.
<p>
He couldn't stop his smile as Marc groaned at the feel of the scratching he gave. This was why it had to be future Peyton's problem because right now, Peyton was happy, he was blessed, he felt like nothing could go wrong. "<b>Those trucks are so inconsiderate, don't they know that people are trying to sleep? So rude.</b>" Anyone else he never would have joked about this...anyone else, he didn't think he <i>could</i> joke. Relationships had always been different kinds of fun for him. Relationships were for in between tours because no one ever wanted to wait around for their boyfriend to come back and meant to be little more than romps. They weren't for teasing and joking because didn't that rely on the idea that they had intimacy? How could you have intimacy after such a short time? Except he had it with Marc, he had it so fast it was startling. He blinked as Marc jerked back and away to stare at him and Peyton had one moment to worry he had fucked up. That moment soon passed, though, because Marc reached out to rest both his hands on his cheeks and his voice sounded like he might cry or had too many emotions to hold on to. At least he leaned in to press his lips to Peyton's still, kissing him slowly so that Peyton could respond. He couldn't help the small, curling smile as Marc said he didn't think he had ever loved someone like this. "<b>I'm honored to be the first. You are something else, kitten. A real good something else and I'm glad we got to meet.</b>" It was fate, maybe, or God working in mysterious ways...or maybe it was all just coincidence that it happened. He didn't care, not really. He pressed his lips to Marc's once, twice, repeatedly. "<b>You are amazing, baby. I love you so much.</b>"
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Marc Miller

Marc turned his head a little as Peyton pressed his face against his shoulder. He rested his own face in the older man's blond hard, just sighing happily in contentment at the feel of him being close, at his warmth, at the scent of whatever shampoo it was that he had used for his hair; everything. He told himself to not get attached. He told himself to be prepared for anything. It had only been one night, he reminded himself. Yet it was so hard to remember to tell himself that with Peyton so close. It was hard to remember the times before where he had built things up so much in his mind and then they had crumbled all around him. It would be different, another part of himself whispered. This was different. This wasn't Marc building himself up, this wasn't just someone out for a bit of fun, this was different. He tried to silence that voice but it was hard because the more he tried the louder it became. Every time Peyton pulled him close, kissed his skin, laughed at something he said, it got a little bit louder. When the other man grinned at him, he felt his heart practically skip a beat. "I really like them both," he said with an almost longing sigh. The fact of the matter was that he had never owned either. His parents hadn't allowed it. Gabi hadn't had pets. James' family hadn't had pets. He had never had a dog or a cat to cuddle with and talk to, although he had always wanted that. If you asked him what his favorite animal was, he would invariably say 'the dog'. Yet, at the same time, there was something wonderful about cats, too. "If you get the right cat, I hear they can be active, too," he teased just a tiny bit. After all, Marc had seen cats that did tricks and went on walks in videos... that had to mean there were some cats that were far more adventurous than their other brethren.

Marc kept toying with Peyton's dark blond strands of hair, playing with the strands, carding his fingers through it, twirling some around his fingers, marveling at the feel of it and the fact that he was doing it at all. "That's quite possible," he said in response to Peyton's statement. In high school, it had felt like a big deal. Nowadays... well, what did it matter? He was Marc. He was a nerd. He lived alone in a small town and almost all of his friends were long gone. Whether or not he had been cool in high school didn't seem to matter in the grand scheme of things. Maybe to some people it had mattered and still did but... Marc couldn't seem to care. Especially not right here and right now. When Peyton moved away, when he gave a soft chuckle, Marc could only shake his head at the words. "It's not something I ever even thought about much." He'd had his opinions about the army and wars and such. Everyone did. Yet Marc had never really thought of it in a prioritized sort of light. It wasn't a cause or a fight for him, just opinions that he held. He had never run into someone who had experienced a war before. He had never been close enough to anyone who had done all of this to ask the questions. "I don't think I want to think about it much." Because it would make him uncomfortable to think about and, furthermore, now he had a face. He shifted a little on the bed as he asked his question and Peyton seemed to take a moment to consider before he began to talk. He was filled with horror at the descriptions, at the thought of it. Everyone always said 'war is hell' and he had believed it, but, again, he had never had anyone to tell him why. When he got up and moved closer, he leaned in to press a kiss against the top of the older man's head. "It sounds terrible. Except that sounds like it's not enough to describe it." On the tip of his tongue, he wanted to ask how Peyton could have done that for twenty years, how could he stay in that? That was assuming too much about what they had, though. That was asking a rude question that, rightly, Peyton might tell him to mind his own business about.

Marc couldn't help but to feel as if he was made to sit in Peyton's lap. It was like he just fit there perfectly. Every angle of the both of their bodies just met up just right so that it wasn't uncomfortable for either of them. At least, it was comfortable for him. Maybe it was uncomfortable for Peyton, but if it was he wasn't saying so. The older man tightened his hold on him and pulled him close, smiling at him in that gentle way that made his heart flip flop. "I like calling you Pey," he countered with a shy smile. He did. It felt like a nice nickname. It was personal and a little intimate, but not so intimate as other nicknames might be. It rolled off of his tongue easily and it felt... right. "I could get used to a lot of this," he said mumbling the words out a little, shy and embarrassed but truthful nonetheless. He could get used to it. He could get used to Peyton's deep, rumbling voice and the way that it dropped into a lower timbre and he spoke with all the emotion and seeming strain in the world at times. He could get used to strong arms holding him, to sitting in Peyton's lap curled up. He could get used to the scent and the sight and the sound of the other man. That was what made it dangerous. It was so easy to fall into a pattern and accept that pattern as forever... but they didn't know each other, not really. Marc lived here, Peyton was from Chicago. What would happen in a week or two? Marc almost viciously told himself to not think about it. Shouldn't he let himself be happy rather than worry? He kept his face turned against Peyton as the older man hugged him tighter, telling himself he was allowed to just enjoy this for once.

Because he was enjoying this. He was enjoying the intimacy, the closeness, the feel of Peyton scratching at his scalp and holding him close. The gentle rumble of laughter in Peyton's chest. The happiness of feeling so warm and loved and content. He wanted to enjoy it for longer. "I've never met a nice truck," Marc said with a heavy sigh before he broke that sigh with a small giggle that had him ducking his head a little with embarrassment. When Peyton spoke, Marc reacted in the way he always did - with a shocked surprise. He saw the look of worry in Peyton's eyes and then Marc was kissing him and Peyton was smiling against his lips. "I'm glad," he said in agreement. "I'm so glad." Marc could never regret this, no matter what happened. He let his eyes close as Peyton kissed his lips over and over again and said that he was amazing, that he loved him so much. Marc moved a hand to rest against Peyton's cheek as he kissed him back. "I love you, too, baby," he sighed the words out. "So much I feel like my heart is gonna burst," he said, honestly. His heart felt just... full. Almost painful. A small part of him said he was never going to be able to tease James ever again about him and Rosemary but he flicked it away. It didn't have a place here right now. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of feelin' like that, though, or of you." It felt true. Suddenly, he was greedy and all he wanted in the world was Peyton and only for himself.
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Peyton Brooks
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He cuddled closer to Marc, feeling the other man's heartbeat practically against his skin. It was perfect, it was fantastic, and he didn't ever want to be apart from this. Even as he said it, he knew he couldn't delay all that long. His boss had been respectful of him as an old soldier himself and the fact that he respected how long Peyton had served the country...but that only went so far. If Peyton continually called in sick on the company's dime, extending his stay there as much as he could, he'd be lucky if it was just a mark against him. He got away with it today because he had a good track record, though short, but to do more then that...But god, to be able to spend more time with Marc, then he'd almost think it was worth it. "<b>You definitely seem like the kind of person who likes most animals.</b>" Maybe he was going on stereotypes. To him, Marc was small and adorable and soft spoken...and there was a part of him that saw that sort of person as being the type that was sucker for animals. He had heard tell from some men that it was a feminine sort of thing, that it caught the attention of guys that liked their men a bit on that side, liked feeling like the bigger, stronger partner or something. For Peyton, it was like comparing an apple to a piece of pizza. It was just...a fact. Soft spoken and shy people liked animals in general, whether they were a man or woman. "<b>Really? Huh, I guess I never met the right cat. Then again, cats never seem to get as much attention as dogs. Or at least the specifics as dogs.</b>" Cats had always just been cats to Peyton. Just...cats. Dogs were different; all dogs had personalities and most people could pick out breeds on those. Cats were usually all pretty much the same personality wise – picky, lazy, snooty – and the most anyone could say for their breed was long versus short hair unless it was a <i>really</i> familiar breed, like a Siamese Cat.
<p>
He let his eyes slip closed, let himself be lulled by Marc playing with his hair. Again the temptation to just let himself call out and stay here with him for as long as he could was so great. "<b>I like to think that once people get out of high school, they're too busy trying to survive in the real world to care.</b>" It wasn't overly true. While college had been pretty much people like him – trying to finish up their degrees and get out into the world – there had been plenty that had treated it like the next stage of high school. When he had joined the army, there had been those that had joined the army because they thought they were something special and unique and being in the army would make them <i>more</i> special and unique. Peyton had always felt grateful that the army tended to pound that idea out of anyone and leave them all in the same mess on the floor. Sure to some it sounded horrible, like it was taking away individuality, but Peyton had always looked at it as they were starting from the ground up together. They were who they were when they came in, but they were starting from the same base line. He ran a hand over Marc's side as he said he didn't want to think about it too much. It was a fair comment, one Peyton had heard from his own family a few times. They had always asked that couldn't they just be grateful Peyton came back to them or the like. "<b>Then you don't gotta, babe.</b>" It wasn't like Peyton strove to have people recognize everything he did and acknowledge it every moment. After he spoke, Marc moved closer again so he could press a kiss to Peyton's head. "<b>Well that's war for you. It's hard...but at the same time I met some of the best friends of my life. Hell, I know they'd take a bullet for me and I know I'd do it for them.</b>" After he said the words, he found himself lifting a hand to a spot that had the faintest signs of scar. Most of his bullet wounds had healed up just fine, the only way anyone noticed them was when he tanned. They had never quite been able to do what they use to and match every part of his skin tone. "<b>I got to travel the world, I got to try things no one else in America has unless it became a popular craze. It was hard fighting, it was hard coming home, but I liked it and I think I would do it again if I had the chance to go back.</b>"
<p>
Without thinking, Peyton ran his hand up and down Marc's arm, feeling the skin that he could and finding it enough to warm him somehow. Everything about Marc made him feel warm. He wasn't entirely sure if it was a good sign or not – it felt good and he was happy and he was enjoying this...but that made it all the harder to leave, didn't it? "<b>No one has ever really shortened my name before. You're the first.</b>" He had been called things, everything from buddy to asshole, to Patton to Paxton, but there had never been something done with his name. He felt...suddenly special and a part of him wondered if that was how Tibby and Minty felt because of their own names. Then again, Theobald and Araminta seemed like big mouthfuls, maybe it wasn't because of feeling special at all. When Marc said he could get use to a lot of this, Peyton pulled him closer, pulled him close enough that he could nestle in a bit closer. "<b>Have you ever thought of leaving? I know you said that here is the furthest place you've moved, but...</b>" He wasn't entirely sure where he was going with this. He knew Marc had said he was too nervous about moving. He knew that he couldn't just expect someone to drop everything to move away with someone they only just met; it would be foolish and risky to go off with someone like that...and yet there was a part of Peyton that thought they could work with this. Maybe everyone else would try to cheat Marc, but Peyton wouldn't. He'd take Marc home and they'd find themselves an apartment where they could be happy. There were plenty of bars in Chicago that Marc could work at – or any other job. Chicago probably had a lot more to offer than Plainview he felt.
<p>
This felt like some other reality, he felt, one where nothing could hurt them or bother them. They would always have what they needed here in this world, or so it felt. "<b>I know right. Hopefully no more will pass by tonight.</b>" And with those words, he realized he was committing to another night with Marc. It wasn't a <i>bad</i> thing, really. He loved the idea of spending another night with Marc, not even because the sex had been amazing, but because he had slept well with Marc and it had been hard sleeping well for a long time. At the same time, he realized that sleeping one night together and talking about how they were was pretty presumptuous. They had the night, but what if that was enough? But Marc was still kissing him and he was happy with that. He pressed a little into the kiss, letting it linger for a moment longer because what else could he do. "<b>You make me feel more alive then anything has lately.</b>" Maybe that was putting pressure on Marc, but it was true. Life had been boring after leaving the army, not that things were suddenly exciting; they just seemed...better and brighter and just...<i>better</i> with Marc. Peyton stood, hefting Marc up into his arms so he could walk them back over to the bed. "<b>I'm never gonna have enough of you, baby,</b>" he said easily, kissing him again.
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Marc Miller

Every time the other man moved closer to him, Marc felt a thrill work through him. Peyton wanted to be near him. Peyton wanted to be with him. It was a heady feeling. It was only made better by the fact that Peyton didn't seem to care how close Marc got. He seemed to almost revel in the feel of Marc pressed close to him, honestly. He had the thought again that he didn't know how he would survive if Peyton were having him on, if - when - Peyton left to go back home. He didn't even know how he would survive getting through work without him, honestly. It was as if some great, wide chasm had opened up inside of him and the only thing that filled it was the warmth, strength and comfort that Peyton's presence brought to him. Was that healthy? It couldn't be healthy, right? And yet, Marc found it hard to care. Everything seemed so much better with Peyton there. Marc wanted nothing more than to just... be around him as much as he possibly could. "I do like a lot of animals," Marc kind of half-mumbled the words out, not quite sure if he was being teased or not at the moment. It was true, though. He had a particular fondness for dogs and cats, but he had yet to find an animal he didn't really like. Oh, he wasn't too fond of spiders and the like but... at the same time, Marc didn't go out of his way to kill them. It could also be said that he didn't have experience with every animal but he couldn't remember sitting at any time and going 'yeah I just hate this animal even looking at it'. Not like some people seemed to be able to do. Marc cuddled closer against Peyton, resting his face against Peyton's shoulder for the moment, just rubbing lightly against the skin and enjoying the feeling of the warmth of the other man. "I've even seen some people take their cats for walks! It's just not common is all." Marc knew some cats wanted nothing to do with you. Some cats were somewhere in between. But he knew there were ones that were way friendlier than most people thought, who just wanted to be pet and loved on, and even some who wanted to play fetch and go on walks. It just took having the right cat - just like most things in life.

Marc made a small sound of happiness as Peyton's eyes closed, as he just seemed to settle more against him and relax in the bed. Marc was pleased that he could have such an effect on anyone at all, but especially on this man. "I mean, that's probably the truth of it for a lot of people. Not everyone, but a lot.' Marc had graduated and he had spent his time trying to figure out what to do with his life. He had spent his time talking to Gabi and James and what else? Playing video games, idling around, and never once had he thought about high school and gone 'what happened to all those people I had class with' or 'I hope that guy who picked on me finally got what was coming to him'. Mostly his thoughts were about James, Gabi or his friends in the guild online. When Peyton stroked his hand over Marc's side, he practically melted against the other man, giving another one of those small noises that were close to purrs. "I feel like maybe I should ask more to understand but at the same time I don't think I can understand?" Because Marc knew that sometimes you had to experience things to truly get a feel of it... and Marc was not about to go get shot at just to have something to match Peyton. He liked this man a lot but he was also a bit of a coward... not to mention he would wilt and die in the middle of the army no likely. It wasn't a good place for a sensitive soul such as himself. He would probably be crying under a bed by the end of a week, he was sure. Marc was quiet for a moment, just listening to Peyton and the way he talked about the army. He truly seemed to have loved it even if Marc couldn't quite fathom it. He followed Peyton's hand with his eyes, watching it rest against a slight scar. Marc shifted to nuzzle against the point a little bit. "I guess it was an important part of your life for a long time... and you had a lot of good mixed with the bad. I guess that would be easy to really enjoy the good times, right?"

Marc pressed closer as Peyton ran his hand over his arm, loving the feel of the strong, calloused hands against his skin. He made a small, content noise. He could gladly spend the rest of his life right here and in this moment, he felt like. He would never need anything ever again. He knew that the reality wasn't the case. Eventually they would be forced to move. Eventually Peyton would leave. Right now, though, nothing was going to change how happy he was. "Well, I'm glad." He paused, momentarily shy, ducking his head just a little bit. "It makes it more special.' At least, he thought it did. He was silent for a moment as he settled further into Peyton's lap, as the older man pulled him in closer, which allowed him to turn somewhat and press his face against Peyton's chest. He tensed a tiny bit as Peyton asked if he had ever thought of leaving. Marc had, certainly. Moving, though, was scary. Moving was big and dangerous. Moving was money he didn't have, moving to somewhere more expensive and bigger was unsettling and what if he couldn't afford it? What if, say, he moved out to Los Angeles and couldn't hold a good enough job and had to move back? What if he couldn't even afford to move back? He let his fingers trace over Peyton's skin, fiddling a bit. "Moving is big and scary," he finally said in a small voice. "It took me a few years to even come here and some days I kinda regret that even." Peyton had said he lived in Chicago. What would Marc do in Chicago? He didn't drive. He got nervous in new places with new people. He didn't really have many skill sets. He would just end up being a useless lump, he was sure, and he didn't want to become that. Particularly not with Peyton.

Marc shifted a little closer, doing his best to not break into a series of happy wriggles as Peyton joked right back at him and said hopefully no more trucks would pass by tonight. Marc let his hand trail down Peyton's chest, moving until he found one of Peyton's hands from where he was holding onto Marc. He gently wrapped his own hand around Peyton's as best as he could, just holding to it. "If they do, I guess I'll just have to get used to it, won't I?" Because he wanted another night. He wanted another ten nights, hundred nights, millions of nights; he wanted every night and day that he could get with Peyton. He had already committed to calling out of work tonight. He didn't know how much more he could swing but God did he want nothing more than to never leave this hotel room again. Marc made a soft humming noise as Peyton made the kiss linger somewhat. "You make me feel safe... and... and wanted." It was a hard thing to admit. There had been very few times in his life that Marc had felt wanted. James and Gabi were his friends and he loved them, he knew they loved him, but that wasn't the same. Friends loved you, but you didn't expect them to want you like a parent might want you or to want you in the way a lover would - both things Marc had been lacking in for a long time. As he contemplated that, Peyton suddenly stood up, hefting Marc up into his arms. Marc let out a surprised squeak, feeling his cheeks heating up. "Pey!" he said, embarrassed and yet, at the same time, enamored of the fact that Peyton could so easily stand up as if Marc weighed nothing at all. The older man walked them back to the bed and kissed him and Marc felt his eyes close, kissing him back. "Me either, baby. Not for a million years.' He would never get enough of Peyton until the day he died, he was sure.
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