"Yeah, next time," breathes Dan, long ago having left behind the need to worry about what he says. He wants that mark, though, wants a dozen of them up and down his neck, his chest, maybe decorating the insides of his thighs. There's so much-- there's so much in their future.

Without looking, and that mostly because he's preening a bit under the attention paid to his neck and throat and shoulder, he gets Marcus's jeans open, and then eases them down until he's able to, until he is wrapping his hand around his cock, feeling the hot and heavy weight of it, the moisture at the tip.

The full realization that this is for him, that this is what he does to Marcus, is amazing. He grips him tighter, strokes as evenly as he can manage. "Tell me," he whispers, "how you like it. I want to make you feel good."