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“I knew you were something special, Jean.” Came Marco’s voice; soft, gentle as the man’s lips ghosted over Jean’s neck. One arm curled around his neck, playing with the blond hair that was slowly getting long, and other arm had placed his free hand on Jean’s side, gently grabbing a hold of the beige fabric of the military coat he was issued with.
Marco continued his soft kisses down Jean’s skin, grinning against the flesh when he could feel Jean shift in the velvet-plush armchair that was trying to accommodate both men’s weight with Marco sitting in his lover’s lap, his long legs stretched over the armrest, just dangling slightly off the edge.
The evening was approaching fast—both stuck at one of the private estates of the Tybur family for another gala that Marco’s uncle, the esteemed and most beloved Eldian on this planet, Willy Tybur was hosting.
But by the grace of god, the couple managed to find their way away from all the crowds to have some time together. Marco had come in first in the private parlor room that was often than not filled with smoke, wine, and entertaining powerful guests—political or otherwise. It was a small mercy for the two lovers for this room to be empty right now. Jean’s transition into being a Marleyan--*a warrior* have proved rather challenging for the couple. The stares, the whispers, the rumors about Marco, a bearer of the Tybur name, was swayed by a devil of Paradis that held no place within this society.
It never stopped either of them from seeking out those moments with Jean rolling his head to the side, relishing in the slow kisses Marco planted upon Jean. It was their ritual, or rather, their escape whenever the public became too much; especially for Jean who would shut the world out, hands clamped over his ears when the world become too loud and bright for him to bare, and Marco was always there to kiss away the tears. To hold him until his mind had settled, wanting to remind Jean he was not alone. He had him.
They had each other.
And from this very moment, the room felt like theirs, neither caring about the possibility of someone entering at any given them.
So lost in their own world they hadn’t noticed the heavy door creak open and a pair of steel eyes peering through.
It was no other than Willy Tybur.
He stood there, watching his young nephew, a warrior of Marley, hold the power of the Warhammer Titan, fawn over this devil. This Jean Kirstein who he, in truth, could find nothing exceptional about him. There was no remarkable story about this man. Nothing that had made him the ideal candidate for inheriting the powers of the Jaw Titan. Jean had never achieved anything noteworthy, not in Willy’s eyes.
It wasn't long until Jean's gaze met Willy's, noticing how his presence has been revealed.
The pair stared each other down, only one dared to change their expression, and it was Jean. His head tilted to expose more of his neck to Marco, a smug smile on his face as he watched Willy stand there, becoming uncomfortable with the act before him. This only pushed Jean to do more.
A hand moved right between Marco's legs, right where his crotch was at, and cupped him through the fabric, pressing a hard circle around his hand onto the thick fabric of Marco's uniform pants, listening to the sharp intake of his lover's breath. His gaze still focused on Willy, watching the older man quickly glance around to see if anyone was coming, then giving a scowl towards Jean before leaving, shutting the door behind him.
After a few more seconds, Marco finally spoke up.
"Who was that, darling?"
"No one." Jean whispered back before turning his face enough to catch Marco's lips in a proper kiss. "No one of importance."