JeanMarco and Punk Rock

Paradise ((Chappy Two))

"No," Marco whispers, shaking his head. "I don't want you to leave." His breaths are shaky as he says, "I want you to show me."

"What?" Jean asks. "Show you?"

"Yes," replies Marco. "Show me. Show me just how compelling I am to you."

Jean bites his lip and looks down at a wide-eyed Marco before leaning in to lock their lips together again. Their lips are attacking each other's, and Marco finds his back arching into the man on top of him. Jean's hand travels under Marco's dark blue shirt. He presses at a nipple, causing Marco to moan loudly, before pulling away and pulling the shirt off Marco.

"B-but listen," says Marco before Jean has the chance to kiss him again. He smiles softly up at Jean, his hands trailing up Jean's arms, and his face is flush with embarrassment and pleasure. "I've never really done this before. Like, I know the basics, but . . . please be gentle with me." And the look that he gives Jean, a look so open and trusting, causes Jean's heart to clench.

"I will," whispers Jean, looking down at Marco's toned chest, which he notices with a smile is covered in freckles, like Marco's face. His fingers trail from Marco's neck to his chest. The digits run along the modest muscles of his torso, and is heart is visibly beating behind his chest.

Marco's breathing gets shallower when Jean reaches the beginning of his jeans. He runs his fingers chastely along the rim of his pants, and Marco unwillingly propels his hips against Jean's fingers, and whimpers slightly when he feels pleasurable friction down there, seeing as how Jean is sitting on top of him.

"Ooh, excited, aren't we?" laughs Jean, leaning over the freckled man beneath him. "Patience, my young padawan."

"Oh, shut up," groans Marco, who's so hard and doesn't know what to do with himself. "And don't quote Star Wars on me." Marco bombards his arms out, grasping at Jean's back. "Please, Jean, do something. I'm dying here."

Jean chuckles, and leans lower on Marco. "I do recall just a few minutes ago, you were saying you weren't gay," he chortles, his fingers unbuttoning and unzipping Marco's pants.

"I'm not," Jean mutters a moment before his boner pops out of his pants, now pulled down to his knees. Marco turns red and looks away, but Jean leans down, his breath hot against the most intimate part of Marco's body.

"Aw, c'mon. Don't be like that." Quickly, Jean's tongue flickers out and laps at the tip. Marco moans high in his throat, thrusting his hips upward, his eyes squeezed shut and fisting the sheets.

"It's okay to admit it," murmurs Jean before licking the entire length, from the shaft to the head. Marco mewls like a kitten, his back arching, biting his lip so hard he thought he was going to make himself bleed. "You won't get anything real unless you admit it."

Breathing heavily, Marco thrusts his hips for any sort of contact he can get down there. "O-okay. Maybe I am just a little--" He cuts himself off because Jean kisses the head of his dick soundly, his tongue probing against the slit before leaving again.

"Ah, ah, ah," laughs Jean, his hot breath teasing Marco's not-so-little friend. "You have to be more specific."

"I . . . am maybe a little . . . gay . . ." manages Marco from between gasps.

"There," coos the ash-haired man above Marco. "Now that wasn't too hard, was it?" Jean laughs again as he looms over him, pulling Marco's pants the rest of the way off before he engulfs Marco's dick in his mouth.

Marco gasps keenly, arching his back and grabbing at Jean's hair. Marco felt his tongue swirl around him and his hips buckle into his mouth. Small gasps of pleasure escape from Marco's mouth, and his eyes are squeezed shut. Jean's hands slither around Marco's upper thighs, his nails digging into the flesh.