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It isn’t like he’d be staring if he could help it. And it’s not like he’s staring because Marco’s hot or anything. It’s just… bizarre.

At least, that’s what Jean tells himself as he sits cross-legged on his bed, watching from over the top of his laptop as his roommate smooths lotion down over his arms, between his fingers, and up across his shoulders. Marco’s back is to him and his shirt is off; Jean’s transfixed with the way his muscles and shoulder blades flex as his arms move.

It’s been like this for months.

Jean knows he’s bisexual; he’d come to terms with that early in his teenage years, and it’s never bothered him. But still he tells himself that he doesn’t watch Marco every single time he does this strange little ritual because he’s attractive; they’re roommates and that would complicate things, make them weird. They have a comfortable roommateship; they’re not very close, but they’re past acquaintances. It’s one of those things.

Jean doesn’t want to make it awkward by admitting to himself that he watches Marco squeeze that lotion into his palms and slide it over every inch of his body every night before bed and after every shower because he thinks he’s sexy. He’s just never seen a guy do that before. It’s that simple.

So when Marco turns to sit down at the edge of his own bed and start rubbing the lotion into his legs and happens to catch Jean’s gaze, Jean averts it quickly, brows furrowing as he focuses back on whatever thread he’d been browsing on Reddit.

“Want me to do you?”

The question catches Jean by surprise. It’s certainly not the first time Marco’s caught him staring, but it is the first time he’s done anything about it. Jean flicks wide eyes back over to his roommate.

“E-excuse me?” he stutters. There’s no accusation in Marco’s face, or disgust, or anything else that would hint at Marco thinking Jean’s staring is weird. There’s just this infuriatingly beautiful smile on his stupid, freckled face that’s making his cheeks dimple and Jean’s heart does a weird little lurch.

“I asked if you wanted me to do you. You watch me every time I do this,” Marco says, tone amused.

“I do not!” Jean says too quickly, cheeks flushing.

Marco holds back his laughter and shakes his head. “It’s okay. Come here.” He pats the spot next to him.

Jean wants to say no. He wants to say no because it’s strange (if not a little bit exciting) that his very attractive roommate is offering to smear lotion all over his body just because he’d caught him staring. But Marco’s so friendly, and he doesn’t really look like he’s taunting Jean, and he’s also very fucking attractive, so Jean nods. Awkwardly, he maneuvers himself out from under his overheating laptop and shuffles over to Marco.

“Turn around,” Marco says, “And take your shirt off.”

Jean tries not to let himself flush at that and does as he’s told, stripping off his shirt (and almost elbowing Marco’s face in the process) and tossing it to his bed before turning so his naked back is facing his roommate.

He hears the squeak of Marco’s mattress as he stands, and then the cap of the lotion popping off as he squirts some into his palms. Jean braces himself, letting his head hang a bit, and tries not to gasp when the cold liquid hits his overwarm skin.

Marco’s hands are stupidly soft and ridiculously gentle as he rubs the lotion over Jean’s back. This is weird, Jean tries to tell himself, but he can feel the heat already pooling low in his abdomen, and Jesus Christ he didn’t agree to this expecting to get hard.

Marco continues going, apparently oblivious to the way Jean is forcing his breathing to stay even, sliding his hands down until he’s pressing his thumbs into Jean’s lower back, right above the band of his basketball shorts. He swipes his hands back up, rubbing over Jean’s shoulders once, before the presence of his hands is gone from Jean’s skin as he grabs more lotion.

Jean tries to put his mind elsewhere. He pictures himself in a hospital, a funeral home, class, anywhere that would prevent him from popping a boner, because good Lord he does not want to be popping a boner right now. He tries to ignore the way Marco’s chest brushes against his upper back as he leans forward to slide his slick hands down Jean’s arms all the way to his wrists and back, tries to ignore Marco’s soft breaths against his neck.

“Let me get your front now,” Marco’s quiet voice comes, jolting Jean out of his imaginary anti-erection world.

He turns jerkily, face red hot as he tries to avoid Marco’s warm eyes. Marco rubs more lotion over his hands and starts at Jean’s collarbones, and when Jean gasps quietly, Marco either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it. Marco’s biting his lip as he slides his fingers up just barely, sweeping over the skin of Jean’s neck, and then they’re gone as quickly as they were there. He goes lower, down over Jean’s pecs, cleverly avoiding his nipples (thank God, Jean thinks), but when he brushes against Jean’s ribs, the blond gasps and jerks back, stumbling a bit before Marco’s hand on his shoulder is steadying him.

There’s a flicker of something in Marco’s eyes before he smiles. “You alright?” he asks, sliding his hand from Jean’s shoulder.

Jean snorts, acting like nothing happened. “What? Yeah, I’m great. You done?” he says, trying to get out of this because there’s this look in Marco’s eyes, and it sends his heart beating a little quicker than it should be.

“Almost,” Marco says, that irritatingly sweet smile still on his face, “Just gotta get your abdomen.”

Alarms start to sound in Jean’s brain. Not the tummy, his mind screams at him, not the fucking tummy. But Jean ignores every warning signal is brain is trying to shoot at him and just nods, murmuring, “Yeah, alright,” as Marco brings his hands a bit closer to Jean’s skin.

The blond purses his lips and focuses hard on one of his posters across the room. He can feel Marco’s eyes on his face, and Jean thanks whoever is watching down on him for the fact that he’s wearing baggy-ass basketball shorts tonight because he has the most rock-solid boner right now.

His stomach twitches when Marco’s fingers make contact, but Jean manages to just barely hold back a dumb giggle. His breathing is a little stunted, but he feels like he’s doing well, until Marco drags his fingertips down the V of his hips, and Jean snorts and laughs out loud, jerking and falling back against the bed when Marco smirks and twists them around.

Marco’s standing over him, eyes dark and mischievous, and all he says is, “You’re ticklish.” Jean snorts indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m totally not. What the fuck gave you that idea.”

“Oh, you’re not?”




Marco just snorts, sliding one knee between Jean’s sprawled legs, and Jean side-eyes him. “The hell, dude?” he asks, because this is getting real gay real fast, but his voice is quiet and half-choked. He can feel his heart slamming wildly against his ribcage like it’s trying to escape, and Marco’s face is getting dangerously close to his own. He decides to change the subject. “What are you doing? You’re done with the lotion, yeah?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

Marco’s hands slide down to his hips, gripping tightly, and Jean nearly chokes on his own tongue. “Jean,” he says quietly, and then repeats himself more firmly. “Jean.”

“What?” Jean half-yells, eyes going to Marco’s. His dick is so hard it’s ridiculous.

Marco doesn’t answer at first, but he’s still got that glimmer in his dark eyes, and then his fingers are digging into Jean’s ribs, and Jean yelps, arching his back sharply as Marco tickles him.

Marco!” he gasps, laughing and trying to grab his roommate’s wrists and wrench his hands off of him. “Marco, no!” he whines, twisting out of Marco’s grasp and attempting to crawl away.

Marco snorts out a laugh and grabs Jean’s hips, dragging him back forcefully.

“Let me go!” Jean whines, drawing out the o, but there’s still laughter in his voice, and Marco flips him back onto his back, his grip moving to Jean’s wrists. They lie like that for a few long moments, breathing and staring at each other, the remnants of smiles still on their faces.

Marco leans in a bit closer, and Jean’s mind races, thinking he’s about to kiss him, before Marco opens his mouth and whispers, “I think I missed a spot right… here,” before dragging his fingers over Jean’s stomach, laughing as Jean gasps again. They tussle, Jean breathless and laughing helplessly and what the fuck kind of luck does he have to have to get this stupidly attractive boy over him and attacking him with tickles?

They end up pressed together, Jean against the wall with one of Marco’s arms around his waist as his other attacks Jean’s side. Jean’s whining between broken laughs and he pushes weakly at Marco’s chest, but it doesn’t take long for both of them to realise that Jean isn’t really trying to get away. Instead, he presses his forehead into the crook of Marco’s neck and shoulder, gasping laughs escaping him until Marco stops a few moments later.

They stay like that for a while, with Jean trying to catch his breath and too scared to meet Marco’s eyes.

After what feels like an eternity has passed (but, as it goes, was not an actual eternity; Jean still has yet to fully catch his breath), Jean finally pulls back to look at Marco. Their noses can’t be more than an inch apart, and Jean throws all caution to the wind, sliding his arms around Marco’s neck and pushing their mouths together.

Marco responds instantly. He slides back and rolls them so he’s half on top of Jean, humming into the kiss and tightening his hold on his roommate’s hip. His swipes his tongue across Jean’s lower lip as his fingertips brush just below the band of Jean’s shorts, and it’s like the blond has forgotten to breathe, because he pulls back much too soon for either of their liking to regain his breath.

Marco stares down at Jean’s flushed, pink cheeks and disheveled hair before chuckling breathlessly.

Jean glares. “This is your fault.”

Marco snorts. “It’s not my fault you’re so fuckin’ ticklish.” He’s smirking.

“I’m not though.”

“Are we really going to start this again, Jean?”

Jean just pokes out his lower lip in a pout and glances away, huffing petulantly.

Marco just smiles and shakes his head, rolling his eyes. He leans down to mouth wetly at Jean’s neck and breathe, “It’s okay, dumbass. It’s cute.”

Jean sighs and relaxes against Marco, letting him suck a mark into his skin. He rolls his hips up, just once, and heat shoots through Jean’s body when Marco lets out a possessive growl.

Marco reaches down, swiping his hand over Jean’s thigh before digging his fingers in, and Jean gasps and jerks. When Marco snorts and begins laughing into Jean’s neck, Jean huffs and shoves him so hard he falls off the bed.

“Meanie,” Jean grouses.

Marco just keeps laughing.