Thanks you for reading and/or following this story! 3

As I said on AO3, it's sometimes hard to write properly as English isn't my language at all, but I still want to try and improve it! Again, thank you for your support.

Chapter 2

Do you what sucks when you're on holidays ? When you can't sleep even though you have plenty of time to do it. And, actually, that was one of those days. I just had a few days off, two still remaining, and I was lying on my bed, my blanket off, my legs spread wide on the mattress, same with my arms. My shirt was rolled up my stomach, with the fresh air of morning chilling my skin. Morning sucks. Night sucks. Lack of sleep sucks even more.

I couldn't sleep at all after that fucking last SMS of Marco. 'Holy shit', uh? After that, I've tried so hard to forget and sleep and yet I couldn't. I guess it was normal that I didn't get another message : the first one with the picture may have been taken right when he'd taken his clothes off, so it sure was…

Before he bed his girlfriend.

At the thought of Marco taking care of that girl, I almost chocked and hid my head under the soft pillow, growling like some awful bear. And I sighed, loudly. Through the drapes at the window, the light could still come into the room, hitting the bed and hurting my eyes so badly. I barely slept two, maybe three, hours and I wanted to go back into my sleep. So bad.

But I knew what had me opening my eyes. My ears had recognized that sound, the door of our small apartment opening slowly then closing, with as less noise as possible. It was like that every time Marco was coming back from his girlfriends' on the early morning. I knew that he was trying not to awake me. But he always failed at it and I never told him.

I don't know how long I've been waiting in my bed for. I just stayed like that for a moment, remembering little by little the small parts from the night, groaning more and more against myself and my stupidity.

Sometimes, I held my breath and I could hear his footstep on the wood of the floor. He was bare feet already, walking slowly, maybe on the tip of his toes not to make any noise. Some rather normal Sunday morning, even though he didn't sleep in his room. I knew I shouldn't be egoistically sad about it, Marco had his own life, and I got mine.

The smell of coffee started to fill the air. Lightly at first, and I hummed in appreciation. Even if I didn't like black coffee, I still liked that smell that always meant it was breakfast time (at work it was just 'break time', pretty cool but also too short). Also, some other smells came quickly with it. Eggs and bacon, bread. Soon, I could hear and feel my own stomach growling at it in need, and I remembered the poor dinner from the evening. Weeeeell…I was hungry, and it was nothing to say it.

But…

I knew Marco would make fun of me the second he would see me, because of that small share of pictures. On another hand, it was quite stupide: I couldn't hide for my all life in my room.

And that was how I ended up behind my own door, opening it just a little, enough to let an eye look outside. It was full of light and I blinked a little in disagreement. In our small living room, I managed to find his figure, walking slowly, watching TV sometimes as he was standing beside the couch for a few seconds, then giving up on news and walking back to the small circle table we had in the kitchen part of the room.

And finally, I pushed the door completely, letting myself enter the room, following that fucking good smell of coffee and eggs and bacon and anything else he'd done. At the sound of the door and maybe my footstep, he stopped moving around to look at me, and…

Well, I must admit. His smile always caused me heart beating a bit faster than needed. But soon he pursed his lips tightly as he was looking at me. Or rather, he was fucking staring at me. So hard. And concentrate. On my crotch. Fuck you Marco, I'm not…!

Suddenly realizing something, I lowed my eyes down on the same target than Marco and almost gulped. I forgot. How fucking comes I forgot about the fucking fact that every fucking morning my fucking dick had to say 'hello' to my fucking waist?! (Okay, I know I should stop saying fucking, but WHAT THE—)

"I knew it!" Marco suddenly said while raising his eyebrows. Oh dear god, STOP STARING AT MY ERECTION !

Immediately, I felt my cheeks burning, even my ears and maybe my whole face. It was a bit late to run back to my room, so I tried to look…Normal. Be normal, Jean. You don't have any pole in your boxers and it doesn't pull at all against you tee-shirt. Not at all.

Crap.

"Wha-what?" I managed to say, looking in every direction to find something to save my soul.

He was coming. Closer and closer, and finally Marco was right in front of me. He was holding his mug of hot coffee in a hand, smiling like a sweet devil (yeah, 'cause fuck yes, Marco is terribly sweet, I swear).

"Ah, well, I mean…Hello, pinky princess butterfly!" He added, his smile growing even more.

I blinked, a bit froze. "What the fuck?"

Morning sucks, like I said earlier. But this one even more. Marco showed up a finger and pointed with it to my crotch. Lowering my gaze to follow his direction, I eventually stayed like that for a moment.

Since the beginning, he wasn't eying my cock at all. I guess.

"Man, I couldn't see it well yesterday with your bitchy light," he said with amusement. "But still, how comes you have those…Oh god, those wonderful fuchsia boxers? "

He couldn't help but smile, trying to hold his laughter back and it looked quite hard to him. I guess he didn't even notice my boner on the picture. Better like that, I think. His reaction on that SMS was totally about my…Boxers.

I rolled up the edge of my shirt, just enough to have a better look at my own boxers. Hell yeah, I didn't even noticed which ones I was wearing this time. Actually, those were made of some fuchsia fabric, with a light blue butterflies print. Casual boxers according to me.

"I like that pair," I snorted softly, looking away and quickly setting the bottom of my tee-shirt back in place. My cock was safe, good. Holy shit no, that wasn't good at all!

He chuckled a little. "That's crazy! I wouldn't wear it for anything…"

I started pouting a little, making my way to the small table and I sat on a bar stool. "Yeah yeah," I mumbled, pouring some of that back coffee in another mug and adding some milk in it to soften the taste. And sugar. Just in need for some sugar in that thing I was about to drink to stay alive the whole day.

"But actually it look good on you!"

i FOR FUCK'S SAKE/i, please Marco don't say things like this i ANYMORE. /i

I almost spilled my milk coffee on the table, taken by surprise and chocked a little. "Man, stop saying stupid things!" I suffocated.

Laughing hard, he came closer again. "You should see your face, you're so red!" he said. I know, I'm almost dying because of you, moron.

I sighed.

And then, I didn't move a toe anymore, my hands gripping my mug tightly. Marco was in my back. I couldn't see him; if I wanted, I could turn back and do anything, of course. But I knew what was going to happen next. It was one of his habits after all, and I liked it more than anything.

And so, slowly, he leaned on me, pushing a little on my upper back with his chest. His arm passed by my shoulder, his hand reaching for the sugar box to take the smallest cube he could find in it.

I loved that moment of my day. I could feel his body, his weight on me, like that, like it was the most normal thing in the world, like we were a thing.

And I could smell his perfume, his soapy smell. It was sweet, each time it happened, and I sighed with some fake disagreement, with a quick and loud sniff at his sleeve.

"You stink," I said.

As told right before, it wasn't right. But actually despite the fact that he smelt like a god, I knew it wasn't his normal smell. It was his girlfriend's soap and shampoo (I'm pretty sure he did use it, his hair looked so fucking clean and soooooo soft and smooth oh-god-I-want-to-touch-it-right-now). And I fucking preferred his normal smell. We were using the same soap and shampoo. And I quite liked it. Anyway it suited him better than his actual girly soap smell.

He straightened back, blinking with a surprised look. "Really?"

"Yeah. Go take a shower, dirty Bodt!"

I pursed a little my lips, and I knew my face at that moment was the same as a pouting kid. "I'll think about it," he shrugged with a smile. "Mister Pink Butterfly."

"Fuck you."

"Tell it to your right hand, looser!"

I winced a little at the attack. "That's lame, coming from you, Marco."

He giggled softly, and I suddenly felt his hand rubbing my head, messing my bed hair even more than it was already due to my night. "I know, sorry dude." Then he took the second stool, sitting next to me at the table with his own mug still in hand, moving a small spoon in it to mix sugar and coffee together.

I sighed, before taking a gulp of my not-black-anymore coffee, before shrugging. "Had a nice sleepover?" I mumbled.

No need to say that talking so much on morning was such an enormous effort. And so, talking about his girlfriend and their night together was even more of an effort.

And of course, I felt a hint of jealousy when that small and shy smile blossomed on his lips as he was obviously thinking about her, thanks to me. Hello, fucking beautiful you. Why are you so straight, by the way?

"Yeah, pretty nice," he smiled softly.

I sighed, raising my eyes to the ceiling. Suddenly it looked fucking interesting. "Great."

"Your night?" he continued.

"Short."

"Short jerking off or short night?" he laughed.

I choked with my coffee. Oh, I hated so much those mornings when Marco was back from a sleepover at his girlfriend! He was always making fun of me like this and I couldn't even reply properly.

Marco didn't even know that I was damn gay.

And I didn't even know what he would think about it. Not to mention that I would gladly lose my soul for him, no problem.

"Short, that's all," I sighed. "Read a bit too much and couldn't sleep enough after that."

I took his surprised look in the corner of my eye as I was reaching for some bread. I liked soaking it in the morning drink before eating. No need for some butter or marmalade (I couldn't understand people doing such a thing), I just liked the original taste of bread.

"What a wonderful night…"

"You're pitying me or what?"

Marco kind of hesitated. I knew what was his next subject about, and I was already preparing my replies for it.

"We know each other for years," he started. " And uh, how to say…"

"I'm still single?" I laughed gently.

He nodded, unsure about what to say next. I made my best to smile and not make fun of him and his poor face.

"You're worrying a bit too much," I said. "I'm not some virgin or anything, I'm a grown man, dude, and you know, I also have relationships, sometimes. And well, sexual relations, if that's what you asked about."

It wasn't a lie. Even if I liked Marco that much, I knew I couldn't wait after the guy for my whole life. And I wasn't one to forbid myself to have a great time if I could (don't misunderstand me, I'm not a fucking slut jumping on every dick I can get!) So, when he wasn't sleeping at the apartment, I used to go out, looking for some cool bar or nightclub. Seeing friends and having a good time at first, and why not ending the night with some nice guy for the night. But not here. And I always made sure to be back before Marco. Don't ask why, I just didn't want him to know about that all, even if he would have a good reaction and not judge me.

But at the moment, that wasn't the question. Marco was red like some tomato and it was damn cute.

Please-kill-me-now.

"I wonder how you do," he groaned in a low voice. "I've never seen you with someone, except that girl in high school of course…"

"Magic," I laughed.

"Really…"

Marco looked quite disappointed at first, but suddenly something passed on his eyes and he looked again at me. "Do you use to wear that type of boxers?" he suddenly asked.

I blinked, taken off guard. Wait, what? That type of—

And I looked down to my crotch, unsure about the face I should feature. Ok. My boxers again. I shrugged. "Those are just boxers, what does it—"

"Daily?"

Insistent Marco, oh yeah. And I sighed loudly. "Yeah, I do…"

A second. Then another one. I mumbled some "What's that for?" to him as he was still eying my boxers. Please dear, don't look too much at it or you're gonna have a bad surprise growing in it.

"Amaaazing!" he finally purred.

"What?"

Marco waved a little with his hand. "I mean, I love that type of boxers but I wouldn't dare wear one!"

Ok. That was definitely not a normal morning. How should I act normal with the guy I loved so much, almost in front of me and telling me his love for my fucking fuchsia light blue butterflies printed boxers?

I let my shoulders drop a little, and finally shook my head. I was done. "You're impossible…I should remind you that I'm a underwear designer then?"

I still can remember his soft chuckle. "I always forget about it! You got those at work?"

"Na, just some personal shopping."

"You seriously bought them?"

"Of course. They deserved it!"

And before I could even react, his hand was on my tee-shirt, raising the edge of it and putting it in the air to look again at my…Boxers. C'mon Marco, let's do something much funnier then!

Shit.

Hello erection. Still here?

"Definitly love them!" he giggled.

Definitly love you.

Fuck.