Marius smiles and flushes at the compliment, glancing down at Jake. "I do try," he says, though, really, he only knows three languages from his stint as a translator back in Paris, when he especially needed money for rent and food. It's nice to have his knowledge and language skills appreciated, regardless. Especially when that appreciation is pressed into his skin by a warm mouth and tongue, sending little tremors throughout the rest of Marius' body.

He moans again as Jake concentrates on that particular part of his chest, arching his back into the press of his mouth and teeth. He lets out another string of curses in French, voice a little ragged, and his hands clutch into Jake's hair.

"You're a saint," he retorts, grinning himself.