December 15th

The blindfold is finest silk. It’s black, exquisitely soft and Jean isn’t surprised that Marco only picked the best for him. He took it willingly – lips parted in a shivering moan when Marco put it over his eyes and tied it, rough fingers sliding down Jean’s neck, stealing his breath with whispers of “so good for me, my darling. Proud of you.. Lie down for me.” Jean nods desperately, mouth falling open when Marco shifts, his knees straddling Jean’s head carefully, looming above him in darkness. Then there’s fingers in Jean’s hair, gripping it tightly, he whimpers “p-please” – and Marco’s cock slides into his mouth, thick and heavy and goddamn perfect, wet from precum dripping on Jean’s tongue, curls of dark hair against his nose when Jean mewls, muffled, and clings to him. He melts under Marco, groans when his mouth is filled and it’s good, more –
“F-fuck, god you’re… so good. Good boy, c’mon.”
Jean smiles around that mouthful of Marco’s perfect cock, swallows, hear him growl and starts to suck when fingers tighten in his hair and Marco whispers “just like that… my boy.”