Light across the sky

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It was just after midnight when he showed up at Jen's door. The rain had started as he got close, heavy and hard and washing over his wind-shield in sheets, though the sky had been flashing with sheet lightening, illuminating the dark clouds since he'd gotten into his car. He could understand Jen not wanting to deal with this at work, not wanting

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[acklesish]

Things had seemed better after that night. There had been a moment, traitorous, where he'd thought he could deal. But, if anything, it had only made things worse. He was so soft, honest, submissive and effeminate around Mark. And he wanted it, wanted Mark. He wanted those strong arms around him, fingers around his throat, he wanted lips on his skin and Mark pressing him down and fucking him with Jensen dressed up in silk and lace. He wanted the way that Mark called him Jen.

And it scared him. The thought of being like that in front of Jared or Misha or Jim was frightening, but more than that was how much he wanted it. He wanted Mark, wanted to be his Jen, wanted and felt so much that he simply didn't know how to deal with it. And given that his coping skills with things like this were about on par with Dean Winchester's, Jensen fell back on that familiar tactic of not dealing with it

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Mark had built this up in his mind, thought about grabbing hold of Jen and hugging him the second he got in the door, imagined there was some slim chance that Jen would suddenly and spontaneously have a change of heart, but one look at his face told him that wasn't going to happen. Jen couldn't even look at him.

His face fell as he stepped inside, staying to the rug because he was dripping. He was going to let him go for a towel, take the time to recollect himself, but as Jen turned away from him he couldn't keep quiet, couldn't let him leave like that.

"Jen, talk to me," he called to him, his hand falling back to his side, making it obvious he'd been reaching out for Jen. He sort of shrugged as he drew back, arms folding over his chest for warmth or perhaps courage. "I've been trying to talk to you for weeks, and you haven't said anything more to me than you absolutely had to. If you don't want anything to do with me, you need to just say so because I can't go on not knowing..."

[acklesish]

"I--"

He didn't know what to say, he stopped, facing Mark, lips parted, and he looked miserable. He reached up, dragging a hand through his hair, trying to say something, to put words to answer him. It would be so easy if he could just say it, just tell him that he didn't want him. But he couldn't, because it was the furthest thing from the truth, and the part of him that just wanted to be his Jen couldn't bring himself to lie like that.

"No, I don't. I just.. I can't-- I don't know."

Fuck, he couldn't do this. He didn't know what to say, how to explain. He wanted him, he needed him so much and it hurt and it was confusing. He just wanted Mark, wanted to be his Jen, wanted Mark to dress him up pretty and touch him in all those ways that made him feel. There was a faint hint of a flush along the dusting of faint freckles on his cheekbones, though it was more embarrassment than anything.

He looked at Mark, meeting his eyes, despite how stupid he knew it was. He looked lost, like they were back at that party where Jen hadn't

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Mark felt like he was being punched as Jen started to talk, started fumbling over words as though he was trying to end this. But then he saw Jen start to change, stop talking and look away, color and heat rising in his cheeks. When he looked at him again, he looked so young and so lost. Something in the look on his face reminded him of the first time he'd seen him, terrified and alone in a crowd.

He wasn't quite sure what Jen meant by this. Did he mean he didn't know how to end this? How to continue?

"This?" he pressed, gesturing between them with a finger, hoping that was what he meant and not that he was trying to end things.

[acklesish]

"...Yeah."

Jen's voice softening, hushed and tender as he looked at Mark with those wide green eyes, his lips pressing into a thin line as his eyebrows drew together. So uncertain and still fighting to try to find the words to say something. Once he looked at him, really looked at him, met his eyes, he couldn't look away.

He looked hurt, and Jen felt awful for that realization, but he just didn't know how to cope. He felt things with Mark, safe and warm and like he didn't have to pretend to be any of the things he did with other people. He needed him, and it was intense and breathtaking and as vulnerable as he'd been in lace and silk, that realization had been even more cutting.

"I don't know how. I just- You scare me."

There was something soft in how Jen said it. Something in the tremble of his voice, because it wasn't as if the way that Mark scared him had anything to do with a lack of trust or a threat of violence.

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Hearing that you scare the person you want to be with was never ideal, but Mark had a feeling it didn't mean what it seemed to. Jen didn't look afraid of him so much as just afraid. It clicked because it wasn't much stretch to imagine what the trouble was. Mark was a man, and the reality of them continuing something like this was threatening for their careers. Mark had managed to keep his personal life private, but then he'd never had a serious relationship with another actor.

"I'm not asking you to be public about it... just to talk to me," he said, not even remotely grasping the depth of Jen's problem. He knew about it, though, about how much he loved lace and silk, Mark just hadn't connected that Jen's problem now was a problem to do with that, to do with Mark's acceptance and encouragement of it. Mark just imagined it was a simple closet problem.

[acklesish]

Jen had this ridiculous desire to cross the distance, hug the man that was still cold and dripping in the entryway of his apartment. Hug him and bury himself against him and beg for forgiveness and some way to deal with this. But, instead he stood there, unable to quite manage to take a step closer when he could hardly manage to respond to what Mark was saying.

"But, I'm- different when I'm with you."

He didn't really know how to say all of it. That he was soft and effeminate and that being with Mark made him want it. Made him think for guilty minutes, hours, that it was okay, that he could be like that, all pretty and adored. His Jen.

He'd never wanted someone like this. He'd dated people before, but never something so intense, never something that left him shaking, and uncertain, and so needy. His shoulders tense, his hands curled in tight fists at his sides so his knuckles bleached white. Trying to explain, but he wasn't sure any of this was working.

"I can't..."

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Mark rolled the words over in his mind. I'm different with you. Jen was different with him, he was less lost, more confident and so much less guarded. He'd gotten Jen to admit to liking women's clothes the first night they were together, and two weeks ago he'd seen it, felt Jen in his lap with his skirt riding up his thighs, and Mark realized that must be what he meant.

He didn't know just what to say to make this better, but he saw how tense Jen was, how he was trying desperately to find words. Mark wanted to hold him, let him know that everything would be alright, and he finally stopped fighting it.

He crossed the space between them, heedless of the water he was tracking into the apartment and pulled Jen into a hug that was gentle at first, in the event he wanted to pull away, incase he didn't want this, but when it became clear that he wasn't pulling back, he held him tight.

"I know," he said softly against his neck.

[acklesish]

He should have pulled back, stepped away when Mark moved toward him, but he just stayed right there. A soft whimper, Jen's body trembling as his hands reached out, clutching at Mark and not caring that his clothes were wet, just holding on to him. Mark made him feel safe, warm, and like all the things he'd seen as faults and flaws were acceptable. He murmured wordlessly, holding onto him, pressing his face into the short strands of Mark's dark hair.

He didn't know how to have this, he didn't know how to deal with this, but he did want it. He didn't want to push Mark away, he didn't ant him to leave, but the idea of keeping him, holding on, was frightening.

"I want to be your Jen."

It was soft, warm and breathed into skin with a raw, honest sort of intensity as he clung to Mark. His breathing was rough, like the man had recently had his hand around Jen's throat.

"But it's.. scary. And I don't know how to do any of this."