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Sex with Marco would never get old. Jean relished in the sinuous feeling of Marco’s hips snapping back into his, the slap of their thighs filling the room with loud, wet sounds aided by the sheen of sweat that had grown over their bodies. He was only encouraged by the babbled, incoherent singing Marco was doing, falling over his ears more beautifully than any hymn, as he cried out his name, that he was his good boy, how close he was, how good he felt.
He hissed as Marco sunk his teeth into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, annoyance at the muffled sounds that were now escaping his boyfriend’s lips quickly overshadowed by the way he tightened around him - a sure sign that he was even closer than his breathless babbles had let on.
“Be a good boy and cum for me,” the husky whisper rumbled through his chest.
Marco’s head tossed back against the pillow, back arching as his hand sped up its jerky movements beneath Jean, crying out his name in broken, stuttering syllables punctuated by groans and gasps. He tensed up, letting out one final moan of “Jean!” before his climax washed over him.
“Shit,” Jean half-muttered, half-moaned into Marco’s neck. His own release followed shortly after, unable to hold himself back while Marco was squeezing him and moaning - tongue lolling out of his mouth. He gave one final thrust, emptying himself as deep as he could reach inside of his partner.
Breathless, he pressed his lips against Marco’s, joining in a kiss that was just as much teeth as it was tongue, before kissing down his jaw, his neck, his chest, until he reached his pelvis. Jean dipped his tongue into the pool of cum that was gathering on Marco’s stomach, laving it up his body as he raised his eyes to make contact with his boyfriend, who was craning his neck to watch just what he was doing.
He received a loud moan in response, Marco putting his head back on the pillow from its former position, but not before Jean caught sight of a pink flush dusting his cheeks, broken only by the dots of freckles that adorned his cheeks.
Jean kissed his way back up again, firmly pressing his lips against Marco’s and slipping his tongue into his mouth, leaving behind some of the cum that he dragged up from his body.
Marco shivered, swallowing and bringing his hands up behind Jean’s neck, interlocking his fingers and pulling him closer.
The kiss slowly moved from bruising to gentle as Jean pulled away, admiring the kiss-swollen plumpness of Marco’s lips, and planted a gentle kiss on his chin, just below his lower lip. He shifted so he was laying down next to his boyfriend, who immediately curled up next to him and rested his head on his chest.
He mumbled something unintelligible into his pecs.
“Hmm?” Jean questioned, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, idly drawing circles into the side of his arm, and the other running through his inky black hair.
Marco turned his head to look up at him, big brown eyes meeting his. “I said,” he wrinkled his nose slightly, “I love you.”
Jean blinked and shook his head in bewilderment. He was a big words of affirmation kind of guy, telling Marco he loved him for every star in the sky, every flower in the meadows of spring; a cuckoo clock with hourly reminders of his adoration for the other man.
But this was the first time Marco said it to him first. At all, actually. Now that he thought about it.
“C’mere,” he pulled Marco up by his shoulders, both laughing and smiling. He curled his fingers under Marco’s chin and pulled him into another kiss.
At least, he intended for it to be a kiss; both of them were grinning too wide, lips curled in from the force of their smiles, causing their teeth to clink together.