His shoulders curl almost imperceptibly inward. "Thank you, Chris." 

Chris sits down next to him, wraps an arm around his shoulder, and kisses him. 

— oh — 

He freezes for a split second, and then melts into Chris's touch, kisses him back. 

"I suspect," Chris says, with a touch of dry humor, "you would enjoy sex a good deal more if you had it with someone you were actually attracted to."

He's not crying, yet. "I'm," and it comes out a sob. He leans against Chris. 

"You're mine."

"I'm yours." 

He presses as close to Chris as he can get. 

Marlo is going to be kissed very very thoroughly.

And Chris is going to be very very clung to. 

Marlo's shaking. Not in a bad way. 

Chris's face looks... odd. Vulnerable, and peaceful, and relaxed in a way he doesn't normally look. 

"You are very beautiful."

"Thank you." 

Very hesitantly, he puts one hand on Chris's hair. 

"So are you." 

He traces a line down Marlo's cheek. 

"I should be responsible and discuss with you the matter of your sexuality. What I want to do is throw you in bed and fuck you senseless."

"That might help," kiss, "more than one might," kiss, and another kiss, "think —" 

"You are being tempting because you want to get fucked."

"That's true too," soft and breathless. 

Chris kisses him. "I am going to be irresponsible."

Marlo makes a string of desperate sounds into his mouth. 

"Rachel has... made me aware that I love you."

"I love you too," against Chris's mouth, and even if Chris couldn't feel his body language he'd be able to hear the way Marlo is glowing just in his voice. 

Chris kisses him. 

"This is very unprofessonal," he says, removing his shirt. He does not seem very inclined to stop.

It's not like Marlo hasn't gotten to touch him before, but it's different now — different now that there's no task to learn, different now that he's letting his thoughts go any direction they want, different now that he knows — he's careful about it, putting his hands down lightly, only gradually increasing the pressure and moving them over Chris's chest. 

Chris's eyes are closed and his face is blissful and he's not giving any instructions at all.

(Marlo might notice that Chris has two long scars across his chest, covered up by the phoenix tattoo.)

Kissing Chris is easy, as natural as breathing — if this is what kissing is supposed to be then no wonder people enjoy it so much — Marlo has a fair few scars himself, some of which he's prouder of than others; he doesn't ask. 

"I should... tell you something..."

His voice is floaty and distant.

"Mm?" His hands go back to Chris's hair.