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"Jean, Jean," Marco gasped softly, laying on his side with Jean's hand sneaking from behind him, his hand wrapped around Marco's length, stroking slowly.
The darker haired of them leaned his head back, moaning, to rest on Jean's shoulder.
"Marco," Jean murmured, the lust evident in his soft whisper.
He sought for the boy's lips and found them, kissing them softly in the night, his hand stroking slow and thoroughly.
Marco reached his hand up and caressed Jean's jaw, his touch as gentle as butterfly wings, before they were kissing again, drowning in one another.
"Jean," Marco gasped, body arching when the hand around his length stroked faster and more firmly.
The black haired boy writhed, one of his hands grasping tightly on to the rumpled blanket on top of them, concealing their actions.
"Marco," Jean murmured, nibbling at the boy's ear softly before sucking at the flesh, then biting at his neck.
"H-Hah," Marco gasped, moaning. He felt Jean's own erection prodding at his backside, and his face reddened.
"What about y-you?" Marco asked, voice hitching at the pleasure he was receiving from his boyfriend.
"Afterwards." Jean murmured against Marco's neck, "You first." His hand sped and Marco withheld a surprised cry of pleasure, his eyes beginning to water as his cock twitched against Jean's palm.
"Ah! A-Ah!" Marco cried out, "Jean! Jean!" With a final arch of his back, his cock twitched a last time, his toes curling, as he came, shooting his seed across the sheets.
"Shit," Jean cursed, grinding his own erection against Marco's backside, kissing hotly at the boy's neck.
Marco turned, that radiant smile of his pasted on to his face adoringly.
Jean smiled and kissed his lips, "I love you, Marco." he murmured.
"I love you too," Marco said, "Now," his smile turned mischievous, cheeky - an expression that practically no one could claim they had ever seen on the innocent boy.
Jean loved every side of Marco. The black haired boy left a trail of kisses along Jean's body as he travelled down, from his jaw, his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his abdomen, down. Right when he was about to place his lips where Jean really wanted them, everything ended.
And he woke suddenly, already aware of the erection straining against his trousers.
He groggily turned, and yawned as he lazily ground his hips against the mattress he was on, only relishing in the simple and also insufficient pleasure for a few seconds before he was more awake.
Marco always slept beside him - of course they'd been placed in the same cabin. They were boyfriend and boyfriend, lovers, best friends. They were always together.
"Marco," Jean murmured, "I had a dream." he yawned again, "You were about to suck me off," another yawn, "But it didn't happen. So now I'm hard." Jean pouted. "Marco," he murmured again.
He slowly opened his eyes, expecting to see Marco's own dark, loving ones, smiling at him, waiting for Jean to snuggle up to him, and kiss his neck like he always did, before they fell asleep again, together.
But instead, he saw nothing.
His mind reflected on his memories, of Marco leaning lifelessly against the building, half his face crushed, his arm, his leg - gone. His eyes had been dull, so paradoxical of the usual blinding light that they always held.
His Marco was gone.
Marco was dead.
Marco was…
He was...
Marco wasn't.