Chapter Nine: Flips
February comes around and Marco asks Jean to come over one last time before he leaves for Sochi.
Jean: is that really okay? you need to focus and im not gonna be any help w that
Marco: im gonna be packing so like dont worry about it. i need a little distraction ;)
Jean chokes a little on the air when he sees the winky face but decided it's probably best to not really read into it. He's going to be packing. To travel to another country. For a competition. The biggest competition of his life. The whole world will be watching him.
Jean: okay okay what time
Marco: like eight
Jean shows up to Marco's house (read: huge ass mansion) at 7:59 PM. He takes a deep breath, feeling much better about being a minute early rather than five.
He pops out of his car (well, his mom's car) and locks it, although he supposes there's nothing of value in it and he's in a rich, gated community. Who would steal anything of his anyways? He heads to the front door and rings the bell.
The door swings open and Marco's mother stands there, a large smile crossing her face. "Hello Jean! Come in, come in!" She steps back and swings her arm to present the inside of the house. "Marco!" she calls, "Jean is here!"
There's a quick tapping as Marco makes his way down the gigantic staircase. Jean smiles, but he worries at how absolutely exhausted Marco looks. "Hey," Marco says and Jean wants to tell him to go bed. He even sounds exhausted.
"Hi."
He waves, "Let's go upstairs. You're gonna help me pack."
Jean follows his tired and freckled crush up the massive staircase. He's still amazed at how huge Marco's house is. Even if he would have lived here his entire life, he knows he would still get lost on a daily basis. The pass Marco's sister again. She waltzes right past the two boys, workout clothes on and earbuds in.
Marco sighs after she passes, opening the door to his bedroom. "I wish she would move out already."
"Whoa there, slow down. That's the meanest thing I think you've ever said," Jean laughs a bit as he follows Marco into his room.
"I can be mean," Marco says, "but you have to actually be on my bad side."
"And what do you have to do to be on your bad side?" Jean asks, glancing around Marco's room. It's actually kind of messy compared to last time; there's clothes strewn across his floor, his bed is unmade, his gaming system is pushed into the corner of his room in a mess of cords.
"Um, a lot."
"Solid answer," Jean says. "Okay, what should I pack for you?" He turns around and stares at the tired boy.
Marco shakes his head, closing the door. "I changed my mind. We're not actually going to pack."
Jean's heart beats quickly in his chest. "Then what are we-?"
Marco runs a hand through his hair and sighs. He closes the few feet between them and crashes his lips against Jean's. Jean makes a shocked sound and Marco continues to push him back until he's pinned against the wall. His lips are rough and chapped from spending so much time in the cold, especially recently. Jean doesn't really know what to with his hands at this point. He and Marco had only really kissed on New Years, and besides that he's only kissed girls. In this situation he's usually the one pressing the other person against the wall, and otherwise his hands would rest on her waist. But with a guy, where do his hands go?
His dick.
Jean snorts and Marco pulls away, a confused look crossing his face. "What? Did I do something wrong?"
"No, no," Jean laughs. "I was having one of my usual internal struggles trying to decide where to put my hands and my brain was like 'go for his dick'."
"I mean, I wouldn't mind. Although…" Marco's voice trails off and he looks deep in thought.
"Although?"
"I've never done stuff with a guy."
Jean clears his throat. "I haven't either." There's a silence where the two stare at each other and then Jean asks, "Are you a virgin? Wait, shit. Sorry, I sound like a fuckboy."
Marco laughs but shakes his head. "I'm not. Um, I mean, you know her… Mina."
"You had sex with Mina?"
"Like, um, two years ago we dated. Since we were like kind of famous or whatever the seniors that year invited us to a huge party. Everyone in the club got the night off and we went. Mina and I got a little drunk and yeah. We broke up not long after. She's one of the few people on my bad side," he laughs, although it sounds bitter, "but it's best not to get into that. What about you?"
"Ahh, no, I'm not either. She was my girlfriend all of last year and. Yeah. That's pretty much it."
Marco stares at him, "What happened? You're holding back."
"How do you know?" Jean questions. "But um. In August, we got into an accident. I survived, she didn't."
"Oh. Oh, Jean, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
"Don't worry about it! I'm fine! I promise. Although, I do have a question. Remember that time you said you were my boyfriend?"
Marco nods, leaning closer to Jean. He rests his forehead against the other boy's. "What about it? I know we haven't really gone on any dates yet but as soon as I get home we will."
"I'm glad to hear that but, are we like, official then?" Jean holds his breath, which probably isn't smart, but he can feel the butterflies tickling the inside of his stomach.
"I would like to be. But um, nothing in public yet. Not until after because… Russia has strict anti-gay laws. I don't want that to interfere or anything. Not that I don't want to show you off! But I want to be able to compete and I don't want to get hurt or-"
"Hey, you can stop rambling. I'm okay with that. I would rather you be safe than show me off any day."
"Thank you," Marco smiles and Jean swears the whole room lights up.
"Now, why don't you tell me why you would rather make out with me than pack for the most important competition of your life?"
Marco grabs Jean's hand and leads him to his unmade bed. The two sit down, the bed squeaking in protest beneath them. "I'm really stressed. And tired. And you make me feel happy again."
Jean smiles a little. "Well, if that's why, then I'm definitely okay with an intense make out session."
"What if we did more?"
"I don't know…" Jean's voice trails off as he looks away from Marco. It's not that he doesn't want to at all, but more like he hasn't told Marco about his condition yet, and he also doesn't have his inhaler on him. Not to mention that even if he did, it would be kind of really embarrassing to have to use an inhaler during or after sex.
"We don't have to!" Marco puts his hands up, "I don't want to push you. I'm frustrated is all. And I can usually take it out on the ice but it's not working this time so I'm lost."
Jean snorts again, "You want to literally pound your frustrations into me."
"You could've worded it more elegantly but yeah," Marco laughs, laying back on his bed.
"You're the elegant one between the two of us," Jean replies, laying down as well.
The room is silent for a while save for the two boys' breathing. Finally, Marco says, "We could, like, turn our bodies the other way on the bed so our legs aren't hanging off."
"But they always said in sex ed to not lay down with another person properly on a bed because it sends the sex signal to your brain," Jean remarks as the two readjust.
"Did they seriously tell you that?" Marco asks.
"Mm, they did."
This time Marco snorts, "That's the worst thing I have ever heard." He pauses and sits up, glancing down at Jean.
"What?"
Marco pulls Jean closer to the center of the bed and then climbs over him, somewhat awkwardly, so he's straddling him. "This is much better."
Jean avoids all eye contact with Marco, his face flushing to a bright red. He can't decide if it's more embarrassing the first time a girl feels your boner or the first time a guy does. He feels fingertips on his chin, redirecting his attention to Marco's face. His freckled (boy)friend's eyes are glazed over and completely focused on Jean. He swallows hard.
"Is this okay?" Marco asks. His focus is unwavering, his hands pressing hard against his mattress to keep him steady.
"I-it's fine," Jean stutters out, realizing what a nervous wreck he is. Maybe it's not because of his condition, but instead because he's never been in this position before. He's usually where Marco is. He can hear his heart pumping all too quickly in his chest, he can tell that he's breathing too heavily, and he feels a little sweaty (which is gross but whatever, he decides).
"What about this?" Marco's fingers push Jean's shirt up above his stomach and trail down slowly. His touch is soft yet firm and Jean can't help but squirm a little beneath him. Before Jean has a chance to answer, Marco's lips are against his again, a tongue violently forcing its way into his mouth.
The door crashes open and the two both pull out of the kiss, surprised. Marco's fingers, however, stay hooked on Jean's pants. Marco's sister stands in the doorway, a grimace on her face. "Gross." Jean turns his head towards the wall to avoid making eye contact with her.
"Are you fucking kidding me right now, Emilia? You couldn't, I don't know, knock?" Marco nearly hisses.
"You said you were packing," she says, sounding annoyed. "Anyways, is this all you do then? 'Pack'?"
Marco releases an annoyed sigh. "I don't know Emila, maybe I'm a teenage guy who's horny, like, all the fucking time. Please leave."
"Whatever," his sister backs out of his room. "Lock your next time maybe," and the door closes.
Jean glances up at Marco, who looks pissed. The enraged gaze falls onto Jean and he shudders. "Not to be abrupt, but every time I said fuck," he pauses, an airy laugh escaping his mouth, "I can feel your dick twitch. Is it really that nice?"
"You're hot when you're angry," Jean blurts out.
"Well, it doesn't happen very often."
Jean doesn't reply, and instead studies the other boy's face. Despite his anger, he can see how tired he is, especially now that he's this close. He can see Marco's gaze begin to soften and melt back into his usual, gentle gaze. And then he sees something else - a look he's only seen in Marco's eyes when he's on the ice. The only way he can really describe it is mischievous. And then he feels why because Marco moves his hips - only slightly, but enough to make Jean gasp. "Okay, but like, fuck you, I wasn't ready," Jean says, feeling a little breathless even though the action was so small.
"Isn't that the goal?" Marco whispers into Jean's ear.
Jean's back arches when Marco's teeth graze his ear. "Fuck, this isn't fair. I'm usually the one doing the teasing…"
"Not this time," Marco hovers above him again, a huge grin on his face. "After all, you won't be able to walk properly once I'm done with you."
"Marco…" Jean bites his lip, "I'm not-"
"Ready," Marco nods, "I know. We won't until you are. But it is fun messing with you. You get so flustered!"
"I do not!"
"If only you could see how red your face is right now, Jean."
Jean pulls Marco down for another kiss. "I'm not flustered," he nearly growls in between the rather aggressive kisses. Jean flips them over so he's on top. He runs a hand through his hair to keep it out of the way. "For the Olympics," he says, "your outfits. Where do they cover?"
Marco points to his collarbone. "Both of them end about here, why?"
"Sit up."
Marco, confused, does as he's told. Jean pulls the other boy's shirt off and pushes him back down against the bed. And then he attacks the boy's chest, leaving deep bite marks behind. His tongue flicks over the last mark and then he sits back up, admiring his work.
"I guess I'm not going to be able to take my shirt off during off ice training now," Marco says, breathlessly, "but worth it."
Marco glances over at the clock on his bedside table. It's getting kind of late, but he decides it's okay in this situation. Jean collapses on the bed beside him and the two boys laugh breathlessly. "I think that's enough to hold me over," Marco laughs.
"Me too," Jean replies. "It's getting kind of late. I should go and let you sleep. You look tired."
"I am. I wouldn't mind if you stayed the night but that's probably not allowed."
"Probably not."
Marco faces Jean and presses another kiss, although this time soft, to his lips. "Can I say something crazy?"
"Yeah, what is it?"
"I love you."