Mark's full lips wrap themselves snuggly around the erect shaft, the tip of his pink tongue just slightly peeking out and giving one, two experimental before he engulfs the length fully. He hollows his cheeks out and , hard, and when the tip hits the back of his throat a guttural sound makes its way out of his mouth. Mark flutters his eyes close from the pure bliss of the moment, shutting out the look of lust that burns deep in Jackson's hooded eyes.

He releases with a pop and runs his tongue over his wetted mouth, smiling cheekily up at Jackson. This action warrants him a flying pillow smack in the centre of his face and he squawks, mouth stretching into an unsightly contortion for a devastatingly good-looking guy like him, and his grip on his cherry-flavoured popsicle loosens enough to slip through his fingers before his mind processes his folly.

With lightning fast reflexes Jackson lunges forward and catches before it splatters into oblivion on the ground, body curling around the icy treat protectively as he rolls once over the carpet to break his fall. He untwists himself and jumps to his feet and brandishes the popsicle that has made it out of the ordeal unscathed, straightened arm holding it above him with a grace that would put the Statue of Liberty to shame.

"Thanks Yi-En," Jackson chirps and brings the popsicle down to face-level and gives it a tentative before breaking out into a wide smile when the taste of the artificial flavouring hits his tastebuds. Dessert always tastes the sweetest when stolen.