rusty_kink | Prompt Post: The Magnus Archives #1

Prompt Post: The Magnus Archives #1

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When Elias calls Jon up to his office, Jon runs through a list of reasons. Usually, that list is a list of names of people Jon has spoken to and possibly offended. Now, that list is mostly full of yesterday’s hijinks.

Turns out, Elias just wants to review the security measures.

“More cameras are, of course, an excellent idea,” Elias says, “but I am going to have to ask for more prudent uses of the fire extinguishers going forward. Replacing one for a false alarm is understandable. Replacing three…”

“I understand,” Jon says, even though he hardly had anything to do with it. “I’ll review the guidelines with my team.”

Elias looks up from his papers with a small frown and leans back in his chair. “What happened?”

“A false alarm,” Jon says. “A… misunderstanding.”

“Jon, two thirds of your team were in the running for your job. Until recently, they were your peers. I understand the instinct to make friends and seem more approachable, but going so far as to parade around in a dress?”

“That’s not what happened!” Jon protests. “And I hardly think you can call my management style approachable.”

“Not usually,” Elias agrees. “Which is why it’s so odd that you’d willingly humiliate yourself like that.”

Jon hadn’t thought of it that way. He still doesn’t. “Two of my team members are being stalked by inhuman horrors. One of them is being forced to live in the Archive itself. If I can’t show them that we have to soldier on through adversity, if I let little things like a lack of appropriate attire stop me from doing my job, what kind of example would I be setting?”

“A dignified one?” Elias ventures, then waves it off. “No, I see your point. Still, boundaries are important. I hope you continue to maintain yours with your staff, even through these trying times.”

It’s a valid point. Even if Martin has a crush on him, which Jon is still only mostly sure about, it’s not like anything could happen. Not that Jon wants anything to happen, but even if he did, he’s Martin’s boss and Martin is his subordinate. Nothing can happen.

Why does that feel disappointing?

Martin and Tim are shoulder-to-shoulder as they work on something that Jon hopes is Institute-related and not pictures-of-Jon-in-various-outfits-related. Sasha is on the phone, calmly talking someone down, and Jon… Jon heads for his office.

There’s so much to do. Worms and hijinks aside, the mess that Gertrude left is still a mess, and Jon is constantly reminded that he has fifty years of work that she never bothered to do to catch up on. His heart’s not in it today, but jobs aren’t always things you enjoy, but they’re still things you do. He gets to work.

He misses lunch, and barely nods as Martin drops off cup after cup of tea. Some of them he drinks. Some of them grow cold. Each of them is promptly replaced.

He comes out of his trance to find a significant dent and an organized pile of things that still need to be done. There’s weeks worth of work piled and neatly organized, more if even a tenth of the statements he’s organized are True Statements. He’s exhausted and hungry, but he feels a deep sense of accomplishment.

He stumbles a little as he leaves the office, feet dragging. Maybe he should take a nap before he heads out. Without thinking, he shuffles towards the room with the cot, tired enough that he’s running on old habits and forgetting new facts.

Like the small fact that Martin lives in the Archives now, and he’s sleeping on the cot that Jon had planned to sleep on. Apparently Martin runs warm, because he sleeps facing the wall without a shirt and lets the blankets pool around his waist. Jon stares at Martin’s broad shoulders, blinking slowly, trying to process… something.

He can’t sleep here. Can he? No. Even though Martin would be warm. Even though he would smell like that nice laundry detergent. Even though there were more muscles and less fat than Jon had expected on those shoulders. Martin sat at a desk all day, just like Jon. Why would he have any muscles?

Even though Jon hasn’t made a sound, Martin stirs and turns over, eyes blinking open and slowly focusing on Jon. He smiles. “Jon.” Then he wakes up. “Jon!” He pulls the sheets up to his neck. “What are you doing? You can’t just…” he pauses. “…you look awful.”

“Can’t sleep here,” Jon says, vocalizing his conclusion. “Sorry.”

“Right. I guess I stole your contingency plan for when you’re crazy and work until midnight.” It isn’t be midnight. Is it? Surely Martin’s exaggerating.

Martin. There’s something important Jon has to ask him. Oh, right. “Why d’you have muscles?”

“Uh huh,” Martin says, which isn’t an answer. “Look, you clearly need this bed more than I do. What were you even doing here so late?”

Jon tries to draw himself up indignantly. “My job.” He teeters a little.

Martin sighs. “You’re horrible after you’ve been with Elias. Why do you want to impress him so badly?”

There are a myriad of reasons. People forget how young Jon is, because his hair is greying and he works hard at projecting the aura of a grizzled old man. He’s too young to be Head Archivist. He should have had at least a few more years under his belt, more experience. He has the education and he’s smart enough, but he hasn’t been trained for this. Elias knows, Jon is sure, that he’d made the wrong choice. Jon has to work hard to prove him wrong. Jon doesn’t want to impress Elias. He wants to surpass him. Surpass his expectations.

What comes out is “You’re horrible.” Jon laughs at the look on Martin’s face.

“All right, funny guy.” Martin sighs again and gently leads Jon over towards the bed. He doesn’t seem to notice that he’s not wearing a shirt, or anything but his pants. Jon notices.

Jon sits down heavily while noticing and Martin kneels before him and starts undressing him. When he starts undoing the buttons to Jon’s shirt, Jon covers Martin’s hands with his. Well, partially covers Martin’s hands with his. Martin has large hands.

“You have nice hands,” Jon says, which is almost the same thing.

“Mhmm,” Martin agrees calmly, never pausing in his work. “Did you brush your teeth?”

“No,” Jon admits. Martin makes a disapproving sound, but doesn’t push the issue. When Jon’s shirt is off, Martin hands him one of his t-shirts. It’ll be too big for Jon to wear, but the perfect size to sleep in.

It smells like that nice detergent that Jon is almost willing to admit is the scent of Martin.

“I assume you can take off your own trousers,” Martin says, and his voice is so warm, so fond, so kind. “Sleep well.”

Jon tries, but the soft cloth and the scent of Martin and the exhaustion takes him, and he falls asleep with his trousers around his knees.

He wakes up with a headache. He’s lying on his side with his legs barely on the bed and his trousers around his knees, so he did that thing where he falls asleep and doesn’t move the entire time. It’s been a while since he’s done that. He’s stiff.

The clothes that Martin had taken off are folded onto a box that has become the side table and Jon starts quietly panicking as the details seep into his mind. He had stared at Martin like an idiot. He had asked him about his muscles. He had complimented his hands.

And Martin had undressed him without any inappropriateness and let him use his bed.

It isn’t Jon.

Whoever Martin had a crush on can’t be Jon, not after last night. Jon couldn’t have set up a more perfect experiment if he’d tried, and Martin…

If Martin had been more detached and impersonal, he’d have been an actual nurse.

Well, that’s a relief. Now Jon doesn’t have to worry about workplace guidelines on relationships and how to let Martin down easy if Martin ever decided to confess. He can rest easy knowing that Martin is just a guy with a crush on someone else who is still Jon’s borderline-incompetent subordinate, and nothing more.

Jon dresses quickly and heads to the kitchen, where he can hear a kettle boiling.

Martin turns to him with a smile. “Hey. Want a cup of–hmph…”

Jon’s not entirely sure why he’s kissing Martin. Or why he’s angry. They’re related, but he’s not sure how. He’s not sure of much right now. This is a mistake. This whole thing has been a mistake.

Martin’s large hand presses in the small of Jon’s back, urging him closer, and this is the best idea Jon’s ever had. He surges up, flinging one arm around Martin’s neck to pull him closer and kisses him until they’re both breathless.

The kettle is still boiling.

“What was that?” Martin asks as soon as Jon lets him breathe.

“Martin,” Jon says urgently. “Do you have a crush on me?”

Martin stares at him. “Shouldn’t you have asked that first if you weren’t sure?”

“Yes,” Jon says. Obviously he should have. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Martin says, and Jon smirks.

“I thought so.” He kisses Martin again, and the kettle’s impatient scream is joined by an impressive wolf-whistle.

“No, don’t stop!” Tim protests as Jon and Martin break apart. “It’s like a series finale! After the hiatus, one of you will be the real Jon or Martin’s evil twin.” He pauses. “Or, I guess in Jon’s case, the good twin?”

“What time is it?” Jon asks, impressively calmly.

“Half nine,” Martin says in a small voice. “You were sleeping so deeply, I couldn’t bring myself to wake you…”

So Tim and Sasha know he had slept here, in Martin’s bed. And Tim, at least, saw them kissing.

“Sasha! I owe you five pounds.” Bored of the non-kissing, Tim wanders away. “I thought Martin could do better, but you were right. It was Jon!”

Jon lets his head fall forward in despair. Any hope of earning the respect of his team is lost.

Fortunately, what’s in front of his head is a broad chest that smells really good. And it’s attached to a pair of arms that give excellent hugs.

“Jon,” Martin says tentatively. Jon makes a sound that he hopes Martin knows means he can continue. “Did you… do you have a crush on me?”

“I don’t have crushes,” Jon says with as much dignity as he can muster. It’s a surprising amount. Even after all the humiliation, there’s something fortifying about standing within Martin’s embrace.

“Oh.” Martin says. He sounds confused.

Jon lifts his head and kisses him, and the sound Martin makes when he does that is much nicer.

“I,” Jon says against Martin’s lips. “am infatuated.”

I love this I love this I love this, I was laughing so much at the first part that someone came to check why there were screeching noises and this is. Just. This is heartwarming I’m. Help

also I’m vicariously stressed that he didn’t brush his teeth Jon you’re lucky the man loves you that’s no way to make a first impression

(Op) GOD THIS WAS SO GOOD. waking up and seeing this fill was like early Christmas, I loved it so much <3333 thank you!!!!

Their first kiss, and Martin tastes like the tea he'd just drunk and Jon tastes like he hasn't brushed his teeth in over a day. Martin still counts it as the biggest win!

Thanks!

It's such a cute idea! Hopefully the two of them have an easier time of it, because I don't think anything really changes plot-wise, but they can at least face it together?

Nah, it's still going to be horrible. It's the Magnus Archives, after all!

Thanks for the prompt!

oh this is so good. they are so good

Jon and Martin travel back in time. Through a series of comical misunderstandings, potentially involving Elias hearing part of a conversation where future!Martin mentions having been in charge of the Institute during season 4, Elias comes to the conclusion that Martin is actually Jonah's future self in a new body. Martin rolls with it. (After all, if they can't murder him just yet, better for him to think they're on his side, right?)

Of course, this leads to a new problem: Elias has realized that Jon and "Jonah"!Martin are very in love, and so Elias now believes that he's destined to fall in love with Jon. How do they stop him from creeping on Jon's younger self? By inviting Elias to join their relationship, of course! Just for now. Just until they figure out how to murder him.

Literally any way you want to take this is okay, I just wanted to get the concept out into the world. Go ham.

DNW: heavy angst, outright non-con/traumatizing sex (obviously JM are coercing Elias into a relationship under false pretenses, and he can be upset by this, but if sex happens then I'd prefer that no one be upset by the sex itself)

This is the funniest prompt I’ve ever fucking seen, oh my god. oh my god. Martin trying to anticipate everything Elias would do to keep the charade going. Jon pretending to be head over heels for Elias. Also there’s great potential here for Jon getting double teamed

Tim survives the Unknowing, but he's punished by the Circus for his intervention by magical nullification and/or castration. He can still be stimulated afterwards, but he can't come. Someone takes advantage of this.

OP here and....holy fuck thank you that was everything I could have asked for. I loved the difference between Jonah and OG Elias and yes....so wonderful

They are such good boys, and they deserve better than they're going to get.

Thanks!

Why is the concept of Martin imitating Elias’s voice and easy authority so hot? Because it’s so very hot.

By far the hardest part of this was making the funny joke, for two reasons. The first is, I really love Jon’s humour. “I spy with my little eye literally everything.”? Gold. The second, likely related to the first, is that I’m not great at thinking up good jokes. I did my best.

Also, and this is unfortunately reflected in this fic, as far as I can tell Jonah’s favourite jokes are inside jokes with himself and I also find those hilarious. So I apologise for those too.

Within the first three weeks of arriving in Scotland, Jon had left the safehouse a grand total of twice, and the property never.

Martin wasn’t really complaining. He knew what Jon was worried about and agreed, mostly. Jon and other people weren’t a good mix right now, given that anyone could have a horrific story that he could be tempted to pull out of them.

But it wasn’t healthy to stay inside all the time. He didn’t have statements to read and was looking… pale. Paler. Than usual. And there were bags under his eyes, even though he’d been sleeping a lot, for lack of anything better to do. Martin had been down to the village several times and knew it was boring, but it had to be better than looking at the same four walls for however long they were stuck here. There weren’t even any decorations or mirrors or wallpaper.

Jon, of course, disagreed.

“I’m fine here, Martin. I haven’t yet finished Daisy’s collection of pulp fiction and true crime.” His tone started out reassuring, calming, and ended up faintly disgusted. Martin pressed his advantage.

“And you’re never going to, because those books are trash. Even I know that,” Martin said. “But there’s a bookstore and an antiques shop and a cute little restaurant with patio seating…” Three wooden tables with plastic chairs counted, if they were outdoors. “You’re mouldering away in here.”

“It’s safe here,” Jon said. “For me and for… everyone else. The Eye, Elias… Magnus hasn’t pulled us back in. If other people see me, if I see them, I don’t know…”

Martin sighed. “I won’t let anything happen. I won’t let you out of my sight long enough for you to get into any trouble, and if The Eye is looking for us through the villagers, it would have found me ages ago.”

Jon still looked unconvinced. Martin played his trump card. “The Eye’s not the only power out there we need to worry about. The Lonely has its own insidious ways of getting to you and… and I know the signs, Jon.”

“You can’t be serious,” Jon said, but there was a thread of uncertainty in his voice.

Martin was only about half serious. Yes, he could see traces of The Lonely in the way that Jon drifted off when nothing was happening, but that could have just been his weird exhaustion or depression. But even he knew that none of the powers could take Jon completely, not while he was still one of Beholding’s two avatars. Three weeks with just Martin as company wasn’t good for him. It wasn’t good for them. It wasn’t good for their relationship.

“I’m always serious about The Lonely,” Martin said. “I mean, yeah, there are worse powers, but none of them are threatening you right this minute.”

Jon looked troubled. The thing was, Martin knew, he wanted to leave. Jon with nothing to do, nothing to learn or discover or explore, wasn’t really Jon. And that had nothing to do with The Eye. He didn’t really like people, but they were dynamic and interesting, even in their dullness, and he was drawn to them. Oncologists didn’t like cancer, but they made it the center of their lives. Likewise, Jon had made the study of people his life.

“You’ll make sure I don’t do… anything.”

He had him. “Of course not,” Martin said soothingly. “I mean, it’s a date. I’m not supposed to let you out of my sight anyway.”

Jon looked torn but, for an avatar of a fear god, fear had never been his driving force. “Just a brief date.”

“Bookstore, antique store, and dinner,” Martin promised. “Three hours, tops. Then back to this lovely cabin and all its… cabin-ness.”

There was a part of Martin that still felt tied to The Lonely. He’d spent so long being groomed for it, even before Peter, covering his inability to connect with anyone on a meaningful level with superficial affability and an awkward blandness that dissuaded anyone from looking deeper. The villagers had almost immediately labelled him with benign Englishman and treated him accordingly, which meant that Martin could strike up a cheerful conversation and leave feeling like he’d learned nothing about the other person. Jon tended to be irascible and unfriendly but, even without his powers, he drew something from every interaction.

The two of them together was… surprisingly good. Jon was drained and scared, but every time he saw Martin he smiled or relaxed or showed that he was happy Martin was around. It was intoxicating. Martin was good at taking care of people, and Jon’s quiet appreciation of Martin’s care filled the cold cracks in him that The Lonely had broken open.

They slept together. They hadn’t even discussed it, just set their things up upon arrival and crawled into the same bed. Jon was warm, and Martin always awoke with at least a foot or a hand pressed against him. Sometimes, when Martin went to sleep troubled or Jon had a bad day, they woke up tangled in each other, or with one half lying atop the other. They never apologized, just gently pulled apart and got up to face the day.

A few days ago, Martin had stolen a kiss. Jon had been standing by a window, and the sunset had been a bright orange. He’d glowed, and Martin had simply walked over and kissed him. Jon had looked surprised, but pleased.

He always looked pleased when he saw Martin.

That was when Martin had become determined to do this right. Jon deserved to be courted properly and, honestly, Martin was a little bit eager to show him off. He broached the idea without expectation, accepting Jon’s immediate refusal, but continued pressing gently at him until Jon actually considered it. The risks were there, of course, but Martin remained calmly confident that they were manageable. He was asking Jon to trust him, and Jon understood that. Martin’s chest fluttered a little as he realized that the request for trust was really what Jon couldn’t refuse.

He was sincere in making it worth Jon’s time, however. When they left on their date, he was carrying a backpack which, he said, he planned to fill with whatever books Jon wanted.

Jon smiled. “I can’t imagine a small bookstore having all that much to offer.” Martin just took his hand and walked with him through the town.

A few people glanced over at them, and Martin recognized those looks. Jon was a new person, and new people were worth watching. A few people Martin half-recognized saw Martin with him and nodded to them, as if in greeting and as if their presence together answered a question. No one looked at them with the malevolence of The Eye searching out its truant avatar.

“See?” Martin said, squeezing Jon’s hand. “Everything’s fine.”

He knew Jon hadn’t read his mind by the small gasp Jon made as they approached the bookstore. Martin had successfully hidden the fact that it was a used bookstore – more likely to have trash, but also more likely to have treasures. Martin released Jon’s hand, and Jon immediately gave him a smile and disappeared in the unhelpfully marked “Non-Fiction” section.

The women at the cash cleared her throat, and motioned for Martin to leave his bag. Martin shrugged it off and wandered into the poetry section, trusting Jon to find other interesting books for them.

They spent the better part of an hour there, about what Martin had expected, and left with about twenty books. That was fewer than Martin had anticipated, but when he asked Jon about it, Jon just smiled.

“We still have that antique store you were so excited about. Have to leave room for knick-knacks.”

In Martin’s defence, the antique store wasn’t just for him, the way the bookshop hadn’t been just for Jon. There were books there too, and for all Jon didn’t appreciate things as much as knowledge, there were some lovely little pieces that seemed to speak to him. Maybe he Knew something about them. Martin left him to it and poked around the vintage section, for things that were just old rather than ancient.

He fell a little in love with a cleverly-designed set of small foldable tables, that stored under a larger coffee table. The finish on them was chipped, and the table itself had visible scratches that had barely been smoothed over, and the price was very reasonable. It wouldn’t fit in his backpack, though, and Martin sighed and turned away. Jon was ringing up a black jewellery box and a figurine of a dog when one of the proprietors smiled at Martin and gathered up the table set.

“You can pick it up after hours,” she said. “We’ll be here until seven.”

“Oh. Uh. Huh?”

Her smile widened, with a touch of mischief. “Your young man explained that you were off to dinner after this, but would be walking past on your way back. It’s no bother, we’re doing inventory this week anyhow.”

There were two things about that. The first was that she had called Jon your young man, which made Martin’s heart practically explode with delight, and his mind wryly wonder if she’d actually taken a look at Jon. The second was that Jon had bought him the tables, something he clearly wasn’t about to do himself, for numerous reasons, but none of those reasons had mattered to Jon above the fact that Martin had wanted them.

This was the best date ever.

He thanked Jon outside the shop and Jon held his hand and smiled and said, “I was just… wait. How are we going to get it to the cabin?”

“Mhmm,” Martin said, suppressing a smile. He’d considered that. Clearly Jon hadn’t, impulsively acting on Martin’s desire. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. “It’s going to be an awkward hike back, I guess.”

Jon visibly slumped, and Martin barely resisted the urge to gather him up in his arms. “I’m an idiot.”

There went the last of that resistance. Martin enfolded Jon in the middle of the bustling town, where everyone could see.

And Jon let him.

“You’re lovely. I… I love you.” They’d said it before, Jon first, talking about the Big Picture and what they were going to prioritize and how. But this was how normal people said it, in response to their partner being thoughtful or cute or sad. Not as a factor to consider in a fight against eldritch fear gods.

Jon looked up and gazed at Martin thoughtfully before unfurling and reaching up to gently stroke Martin’s cheek and press his lips against Martin’s in a soft kiss. He pulled away before Martin could respond, or embarrass himself, with a small smile and a light flush. “I love you, too.”

It was like something slotted into place within Martin, and for the first time he felt warmed through, the cold of The Lonely completely chased away. They could do this. The two of them, together. They could fight back against the fear monsters.

Martin rode that high all the way to the restaurant.

The antique store had been more than a little dusty, and Jon went to freshen up while Martin waited for the table. They checked that the restroom was empty first, as there was no need to risk Jon alone in an enclosed space with another human without Martin to run interference. Martin kind of lied and told the staff he and Jon were here on their anniversary and asked for one of the tables outside. They agreed with cheerful grins and adorned the table the furthest from the door with flowers and candles for them. It was romantic in a small-town, bare bones kind of way.

Jon joined him quickly enough that there was no chance he’d met up with anyone for a… snack. Still, he looked remarkably refreshed and bright, and Martin swelled with pride at the realization that Jon really had needed this. He was a good boyfriend.

“I can order drinks and appetizers if you wanted to clean up,” Jon offered. “Restroom’s free.” Martin smiled and went, washing up and rinsing off his face. He was still grinning from ear to ear, and his reflection looked bright and happy as he dried his face and hands. He hadn’t seen his reflection in weeks, and he was surprised at how… okay he looked. Not like someone torn from the belly of one eldritch horror and stalked by another eldritch horror at all.

“Alright,” Martin said to his reflection, whose happy eyes seemed to cheer him on. “Don’t push it tonight. If everything goes as perfectly as it has, maybe Jon will agree to do something like this again in a few weeks. Don’t mess this up.”

Fortified, he returned to the table to find red wine in front of Jon’s seat and white in front of Martin’s.

“Tannins, right?” Jon said as Martin sat down. “Wouldn’t want you to have a headache tonight.”

Was Martin imagining the suggestiveness in those words? Probably. That misinterpretation was exactly the sort of thing his pep talk had been meant to prevent. “Thanks.” Martin looked through the menu, finding the choices simple, but pleasant. “Any preferences?”

“I find myself in the mood for meat,” Jon said, and Martin hadn’t thought he’d had a particularly dirty mind up to this point, but seriously. “The roast or the lamb, though…” He looked at Martin and smiled, slow and thoughtful. “The lamb, I think.”

“Right. Sounds good. I think I’ll have the fish. Should go well with the wine.” That was safe. Good job, Martin. That even sounded somewhat sophisticated. “How’re you liking this, then?” he asked after they ordered. “Being amongst the unwashed masses, I mean.”

Jon laughed. “Quite a bit, actually,” he said. “It’s like finding a missing piece of myself.”

He smiled and Martin smiled back. He congratulated himself again on guessing what Jon had needed. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said.

“I really think I am,” Jon said. He reached across the table and placed a warm hand in Martin’s. “Thank you for insisting.”

They didn’t talk about anything significant over dinner. Periodically, Jon’s gaze would wander and he seemed to be taking the world in with new eyes. They ate contentedly, interrupting their meal to occasionally hold hands and just chat. The food was probably good, but Martin hardly remembered it. All he could see was Jon, alive and well and with him, looking like there was nowhere he’d rather be.

They didn’t get desert. Jon had never been one for sweet things and Martin, honestly, wanted something he could dangle over Jon’s head as an excuse to go out again. The knowing smile Jon shot him as he got the check would have made Martin worried that he Knew, but Jon had promised not to Know things about him, and Martin trusted him.

Lugging the tables back to the cabin was, indeed, a chore. They had to stop a few times when Jon got winded, but Martin didn’t say anything.

It was Jon who brought it up. “I suppose a half-pack-a-day habit and an aversion to physical anything was not the best preparation for lugging furniture up a hill.”

Martin laughed. Self-deprecating humour was something he and Jon shared, and that had been pretty mild. Still, there was an edge of genuine irritation there, and Martin considered setting up an exercise regimen as a new activity to fill the time.

Jon collapsed on the couch as soon as they got back. Martin dumped the backpack and started setting up for tea. “Do you want to put the books away now, or later?”

“We’re still on our date,” Jon said. “Tidying can wait.”

He wanted to continue the date. Martin gave a happy little wiggle as he set up the tray. Once the tea was ready, he brought it to the sitting room and started pouring. Jon had recovered enough to take his cup and settle back down into the couch, albeit without the grateful little smile he usually gave Martin after the first sip. Maybe his mind was on something else.

“I had fun today,” Martin said, nursing his own cup. “It wasn’t a bad first date.”

“It’s not over yet,” Jon pointed out. “We still have the rest of the night.”

Martin took a sip of his tea, his heart pounding. He’d never really had a teenaged romance, but making out on couches had featured prominently in his fantasies about them. He was nearly thirty, surely the thought wasn’t enough to excite him this much.

Then Jon put his cup down and Martin nearly spilled some tea in his rush to do so as well.

“How do you see tonight ending?” Jon asked, casual and curious.

“Oh. Ah.” Martin could feel himself blushing. “I… didn’t actually have a plan after dinner? I certainly hadn’t planned for antique furniture.”

Jon looked over at the tables, then dismissed them. “So you wouldn’t mind me taking a bit of a lead?”

“No!” Martin yelped. “No,” he managed more calmly, despite his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. “That would be… fine. Yes.”

Jon hummed thoughtfully, then twisted in his seat and threw one leg over Martin’s lap. Martin made a very embarrassing noise, and then suddenly had a lapful of Jon. Jon reached out and touched his face, and Martin let his trembling hands settle on either side of Jon’s waist. “…Jon?”

“Martin.” Jon traced Martin’s eyebrows, his hairline, over his earlobes and down his jawline. “I’m grateful to you, Martin. I’m not sure you know how grateful. I’m fairly certain you don’t know precisely why. But I am, truly. And I would be happy to show you that gratitude any way you’d like.”

Martin’s mouth felt bone dry. He didn’t want to push Jon into anything, knew that rushing things would be a terrible idea, but he wanted…

No. There was only one thing he truly wanted. “Just stay with me,” Martin whispered, closing his eyes and leaning into Jon’s touch.

Jon hummed again. “Of course, Martin. I promise to always be by your side.” He slid forward slightly, pressing his chest to Martin’s, and Martin could hear his smile. “Or under you. Or on top. Your choice.”

Martin’s eyes flew open. He knew Jon. Jon had a dry sense of humour, with a sharp edge usually pointed at himself. He didn’t do raunchy humour. He wouldn’t have made light of this. Not his Jon.

Staring at him from Jon’s face was something else. A twisted, wry, almost cruel amusement. Martin felt his heart skip, this time for the wrong reasons. He gently pushed Jon away, settling him on the couch beside him.

“What’s wrong?” Not-Jon asked, sounding concerned and still faintly amused. “Do you need a moment?” He smiled. “You know what they say: Anticipation makes the hard-on longer.”

Definitely not Jon. Those were jokes that Tim might have made, but Tim was dead. And the other powers couldn’t affect Jon this deeply, save for one. There was only one person who could have hollowed Jon out and taken his place. Martin hadn’t anticipated this. How could he?

“I’ve been thinking about what you said before,” Martin said slowly, unsure if he even wanted to do this. He never would have said this to Jon, but Elias… Jonah Magnus, inside Jon? Martin was willing to use this against him.

Jonah-in-Jon just looked at Martin as if he cared. “About what, exactly?”

“About your offer. About Melanie. About the…” Martin waved his hand. “The Eye and our eyes.”

“Ah, yes.” Was there annoyance there? “It was foolish of me. I was desperate, I suppose, and I felt trapped. I didn’t believe we could be free without that, but… we can, can’t we Martin?” He reached over and placed his hand over Martin’s. “We’re free here, and safe, and together.”

Martin nodded, slowly. “We are. But you’re right, it can’t last forever. And there’s Daisy and Basira and the rest of the Institute to consider.”

“I know.” The gentleness in Jon’s voice sounded sincere. “But we can’t go back. Not without knowing what we’re going back to.”

“I wasn’t considering that,” Martin said. “I was just thinking that we don’t need to break everyone’s connection to The Eye. Just yours.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed as Jonah glared out from behind them. “What?”

“If you’re free, we free the rest of the archives, don’t we?” Martin said. He’d suspected as much, but hadn’t wanted to pressure Jon. His self-sacrificing, frightened, impulsive Jon. “Including me. And I’ll take care of you, I promise, and you can still do your research and studies, once you learn Braille, and I’ll help with everything. I’ll do anything for you, Jon.”

Jon kissed him. No, Jonah kissed him. Martin squirmed, caught between revulsion and a lingering desire. This was Jon’s body, those were Jon’s lips. He pushed Jonah away.

“Alright,” Jonah said easily.

Martin blinked at him. “What?”

“I agree. If it will keep the others safe, of course I’ll let you rip my eyes out of their sockets. I trust you Martin.” Butter wouldn’t have melted in Jon’s mouth as Jonah spoke. “And it’s a small price to pay, in the grand scheme of things.”

“Um. Alright. So I’ll just…”

“Tomorrow,” Jonah said, catching Martin’s hand and pressing his lips to it. “Give me one last night with you, and we’ll do it tomorrow.”

Martin fought against the urge to snatch his hand back. “I’m not sure…”

Jonah reached forward and tucked Martin’s hair behind his ear with Jon’s long fingers. “Come to bed with me, Martin. I’ll make it worth your while.” Without waiting for an answer, he made his way to their bedroom, leaving the door open a crack behind him.

Martin breathed out in a long, shuddering sigh. As far as he could tell, there was only one way to get Jon back. He’d thought that the last thing he’d wanted to do was hurt Jon but, he realized as he took a paring knife from the kitchen, there was at least one thing he wanted less.

He wished he’d talked to Melanie after she’d freed herself. He wished he’d asked her if it had been worth it, how much it had hurt, what had to be done to take care of her after. He wished he wasn’t going into this, figuratively, blind.

By the time he opened the door to the bedroom, Jonah had removed Jon’s shirt and trousers, and was standing unselfconsciously in his pants and socks and a smile. Martin steeled himself and, concealing the knife behind his back, closed the door and moved towards him.

He hadn’t expected Jonah to gracefully drop to his knees, slide his hands up Martin’s legs, and start undoing his trousers. His free hand instinctively threaded through Jon’s hair, and he reflected that the angle was actually pretty good. He swallowed hard as Jonah unzipped him and gripped the knife harder, preparing to attack. “I’m so sorry, Jon.”

Jonah looked up at him and smiled. “I was wondering how far you’d let this go, Martin.” He lashed out like a snake and grabbed Martin’s hand, the one holding the knife, and twisted. Martin gasped and dropped the knife as pain shot from his wrist down his hand and up his arm. His other hand spasmed, grabbing Jon’s hair and pulling. Martin had never really been in a fight before, and wasn’t sure what to do, but he was sure of one thing.

He was bigger and heavier than Jon. If he couldn’t fight him, he could pin him.

Jonah laughed as Martin basically fell on top of him, holding him down with his body. They flailed a little until Martin got both Jon’s wrists in his hands and pressed them against the floor. Jonah sniggered as Martin panted on top of him.

“How do you see this ending, Martin? I don’t need food or sleep, just fear. And you’re terrified right now.” Jonah arched under him, a smooth, sensual motion, and groaned with Jon’s voice. A shiver ran through Martin, and he wished it could be attributed simply to fear.

“There’s so much for you to learn. So much new knowledge for you to fear. What does Jon sound like, helpless underneath you? What does he look like as he orgasms?” Jonah moved again, this time with clear intention. “What does his arousal smell like? How would he moan your name?”

Martin shuddered but he didn’t let Jonah up. He had to think of something, some way to get Jon back. “You’re not him.”

“The body is,” Jonah said. “And I find that bodies matter quite a bit in matters such as this. Of course, there are other horrifying things I can do with dear Jon’s body.” He stopped writhing under Martin and started banging his head against the floor, violently enough that Martin could feel the vibration in his arms.

“Stop it!” Martin let go of Jon’s hand to cup his head, and Jonah grabbed the back of Martin’s head and pulled him in for a vicious kiss.

“I would have fucked you,” Jonah said as Martin tore his head away. “It would have been delicious, your fear and shame as you took what you’ve always wanted from someone who isn’t your true love.” He sneered the last two words. “All the while plotting against me. Mmm…” He moved under Martin again, and Martin thrust forward once, unable to stop himself. Jonah laughed.

“Let him go.”

“Why? The investigation at the Institute is mostly wrapped up, so there’s not much amusement to be had there. Elias is boring right now. I find Jon far more entertaining.”

“I… I’ll…”

Jonah laughed again. “There’s nothing I want from you, Martin. You can’t negotiate. Although…” He smiled. “You are the only thing holding Jon to his humanity. If you violated his trust, violated him beyond any hope of reconciliation, I might give him back to you. Just so that he can have the last good thing in his life ripped from him.”

Martin closed his eyes, feeling tears prickle behind the lids. He couldn’t do that. He could take Jon’s eyes, but he couldn’t do that.

“Or just return to The Lonely,” Jonah said gently. “If you leave him, I’ll leave him, and we’ll see where he ends up on his own.”

Martin’s eyes flew open. “But… you’re the one who sent him to me, to get me out.”

“Well, more to confront Peter Lukas than to rescue you, but yes. You were the bait.” Jonah smiled. “I’ve always had a fondness for The Lonely, and you fit it so well. With Peter gone, you might as well take up that mantle.” His voice softened further, and his hand gently cupped Martin’s cheek. “I know it’s been hard for you, watching Jon fade, knowing there was nothing you could do. It’s why you took that risk and opened him up to me – no, shh…” He wiped the tears away as they fell from Martin’s eyes. “It’s not your fault. How were you to know? You both thought that he was the monster, the threat. But you did make it worse. You always do. Sometimes the best thing we can do for the people we love is to leave them. Jon is still somewhat human, Martin. There’s a chance he’ll choose the right path. But not if you’re here, messing things up for him.”

“I…”

“He loves you. Trust that his love is strong enough that it will continue without your presence. Or…” Jonah smiled, twisting Jon’s face into a cruel, vicious expression, and his voice hardened. “Or I’ll just keep hurting him in front of you until you break.” He flung his head forward, smashing his forehead into Martin’s.

It hurt. By the time Martin had shaken away the blinding pain, Jonah had squirmed out from beneath him, and was holding the knife.

“If you accept it, The Lonely becomes a power, not a prison,” Jonah said, turning the blade so that it glinted faintly in the dim light. “You can leave whenever you want. The trick is to want to leave.” He calmly stabbed through his left wrist, tearing through the skin and muscle as he pulled the knife free, blood spattering on the floor. Martin gave a small cry. “Peter used it to spy on people which, while annoying at times, was something I couldn’t really criticize as an instrument of The Eye.” The wound was already starting to close, but that didn’t give Martin much hope. It just meant that Jonah would probably do something else soon. “You can watch over Jon and ensure I keep my end of the bargain. Which I will; I’m not The Spiral.” As Martin had expected, Jonah plunged the knife into his thigh, right through one of Jon’s worm scars. Another way Martin had hurt him. “In fact, I imagine that watching from a distance as Jon struggles to move on without you is exactly how The Lonely would prefer you.” Jonah licked the blade, smiling at Martin as he tasted Jon’s blood. “And that way, you’re only hurting yourself.”

“Alright,” Martin said softly, his arms hanging uselessly by his side. “I’ll go.”

“Excellent.” Jonah moved forward, knife in one hand, the other extended. “I’ll show you how to open the way.”

Two things happened at once. Jonah touched Martin’s cheek and everything there was to know about The Lonely blossomed in Martin’s mind, as if he’d always known it. And Martin grabbed Jonah’s arm and threw them to the floor, pinning him again, this time with the knife in Martin’s hand.

Jonah looked surprised, then angry. “Haven’t we already done this dance?”

“I’m not leaving him,” Martin growled. “And I’m not letting you take him like this, ever again.” He wrestled Jonah’s arms under his weight, pinning them between their chests. Jonah writhed and squirmed, but couldn’t get enough leverage to free himself. Martin held his head firmly with one hand and pressed the blade against his cheek, steadying it as best he could. “Hold still, you monster.”

And Jonah… did. He blinked once, slowly, and then all the fight went out of him and he stilled under the blade. Martin hesitated. “…Jon?”

“Do it,” Jon said. “Maybe you’re right, maybe this will free everyone. Either way, it’ll take me off the board, and Jonah will have to find another Archivist to play with.”

Martin’s hand trembled and he threw the knife away. “Jon!” He slumped forward, burying his head in the crook of Jon’s neck. “I was so scared…”

“I know,” Jon said, and he sounded exactly as he had as Jonah. Martin sobbed against him. “I’m so sorry, Martin.”

“Can he… can he take you again?”

“I don’t know, I…” The air crackled and Martin’s ears popped. “No. He can’t. Now that I Know how he does it, I can defend against it.”

“But he knows where we are.”

Jon sighed. “He always knew. We’re only safe because of the impracticality of distance, and his reluctance to get the police involved. I’d be even less use to him behind bars.”

Martin nodded and sat up. Jon shook his hands to get the feeling back into them and smiled. “Thank you.”

“It’s my fault,” Martin started, but Jon shook his head and pressed his fingers to Martin’s mouth, stopping his words.

“It wasn’t. Jonah wasn’t right about everything, but he was right about that. That being said…” Jon looked over at the paring knife. “I’m not sure if it would help everyone, but breaking the bond between The Eye and me isn’t a bad idea.”

Martin thought about it, about taking Jon’s eyes when Jon wasn’t Jonah. “I… don’t think I can?”

“Then that was an impressive bluff.”

“No, I could have, when you were… when he was…” Martin took a deep breath. “But I don’t think I can. To you.”

“Alright,” Jon said. “We’ll find another way. You said Basira was going to send some statements over? I’ll just fortify myself with those when they come in and we’ll make another plan.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Martin said, relieved. After all, as long as Jonah stayed away from them, they’d have time.

Shit, I forgot content warnings:

Self-harm, manipulation, dubious consent for sexual activities and for bodily harm, and I guess references to canon events and injuries. Sorry!

holy shit holy shit sholy hit... I LOVE THIS. The drama, the tension, Jonah just straight up wringing every ounce of anguish he could from Martin... for a second I really did think Martin was going to leave to free Jon.

....I actually am slightly afraid, because... if it were Jonah, still in Jon's body and just switching tactics and doing his best Jon impression once Martin was really ready to kill him... neither Martin nor I would be able to tell, huh :'D

Thank you so much for writing this!

martin: says something vaguely patronizing with a coy tone of voice
jon: huh. hope this doesn't awaken anything in me.

dsjhdjkdsdhjsd seriously though this is a good prompt

Content warnings: Non-con, dub-con, voyeurism, bondage, manipulation

The Lonely had… changed Martin.

Or maybe Jon dragging him out had changed him. Martin had actually felt pretty normal while wrapped in the soft, gentle fog of solitude, but he felt different now.

He tried. He made tea and took care of Jon and joked about cows and brought him the statement that ended the world. All normal, typical Martin things. Then the world had ended, and he’d maybe gotten a little less good at pretending.

It was Jon’s fault. If Jon hadn’t used his powers, Martin wouldn’t have had the opportunity to exercise his own sadistic, vengeful impulses. If Jon had been more clear and detailed, Martin wouldn’t have been so off-balance and angry all the time. If Jon had simply been more normal, then Martin wouldn’t be standing in Jon’s doorway. Considering this.

“M-Martin?” Jon’s furrowed brow was surprisingly cute. His vagueness and confusion could almost be attributed to the fuzzy-headed feeling of waking up, but it lasted far longer than it should. “Oh. Martin. How long was I out for that time?”

“Twelve hours or so,” Martin said. “You’ve been sleeping longer lately. Deeper, too.”

“Mmm.” Jon rubbed at his eyes. “I don’t know how much longer I can stay here.”

“A bit longer, I think,” Martin said, coming into the room and closing the door behind him. Salesa wasn’t a large man, but his clothes were still a little loose on Jon. It was easy to find an opening, for Martin to press his hand against Jon’s sleep-warmed skin.

Jon made a curious sound, and Martin kissed him.

Jon allowed it, but pushed Martin away when Martin’s hands started wandering. “Quit it.”

They’d had this conversation. In the cabin, they’d actually had a mature, adult discussion about sex and their relationship and Jon had laid down his boundaries. Martin had agreed and, mostly, stayed within them, stopping whenever Jon told him he’d gone too far.

Martin was tired of stopping. Of everything being at Jon’s pace.

He pulled away, leaving Jon slightly flustered, but not afraid. Not yet.

“Nothing can feed on our fear here,” Martin said, and Jon probably thought that was a non-sequitor. “No matter what we decide to do, we’re not helping any of those creatures. We’re just doing things.”

Jon nodded. “Right…” He looked like he was trying to follow Martin’s line of thought and coming up short. Martin smiled – see how he liked it.

Martin removed his shirt and stepped out of his trousers. No need to make this harder than it had to be. Jon watched him, still a little lost, but pulled the sheets up to cover his chest. He was starting to fear. Martin… didn’t hate that.

He was half-hard already, the decision to take action enough to have aroused him. Jon stared at him, then stared at his cock, and seemed to be slowly understanding what was happening. “Martin…”

Martin pulled away the sheet, and managed to yank Jon’s sleep shorts off before Jon started fighting back in earnest. It was too bad, Martin thought idly. He’d wanted Jon’s shirt off, wanted to play with his nipples while he fucked him. Still, given that he only managed to pin Jon down with Jon’s front pressed against the bed and his buttocks spreading as Martin rubbed between them, nipples were apparently not on the menu anyway.

Jon strained and squirmed and whimpered as Martin ground against him, nipping at Jon’s earlobe. He didn’t seem to know or care that every movement he made was just making Martin more aroused.

Still, Martin had more in mind than just getting off on Jon’s attempts to escape. He grasped Jon’s wrists in one hand and held them above Jon’s head, using the other hand to gently caress his face and neck. “Shhh,” he soothed, nudging Jon’s knees further apart. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You already–” Martin stuck two fingers in Jon’s mouth, cutting Jon off. His other fingers circled Jon’s chin.

“Get them wet. I don’t know if you’ve ever had a prostate exam, but dry things going up your arse isn’t pleasant.”

Jon made an indignant sound of protest and tried to bite down. Martin’s hand turned the bite from a sharp, vicious thing, into a dull gnawing. He gave a light press with his hips, reminding Jon of his true intensions. “This is an offer, not an order. If you want me to take you dry, I will. But I’m going to have you, Jon.”

Martin kissed away the tear that escaped from Jon’s eye, and sighed happily as Jon started sucking.

“I know you don’t want this,” Martin said, withdrawing his fingers from Jon’s mouth and sliding one inside him. Jon gave a soft yelp at the penetration, and breathed hard. “You made that clear. But it’s not always about what Jon wants. Sometimes other people have wants too, you know.” A second finger joined the first, and Martin readily admitted he was rushing things. “Not that you’d care.”

“I… I care,” Jon said. Martin kissed his cheek for that. “I care about you, Martin. You don’t have to do this.”

Martin laughed. “I know. Need is such a weird thing. You need to recite statements, I need to be alone sometimes. But I don’t need this, you’re right. I’ve just wanted it. For such a long time. I don’t know what you call a want after it’s been unfulfilled for years, especially when it’s been so close so many times. A… a drive? Whatever. All I know is that you can’t stop me, here. And I don’t want to stop.” He pulled his fingers out and slicked himself up as best he could. “Now, do your best to relax. This might sting a little.”

Jon didn’t relax. Martin hadn’t honestly expected him to. As rushed as he’d been with the prep, Martin was careful and slow now, rocking in slowly, millimetre by millimetre, biting on his lower lip to stop himself from slamming into the warm, inviting heat.

The sounds Jon made were intoxicating. They were pained noises, dragged out of him with every move Martin made, past clenched teeth and rigid jaw. Eventually, Martin felt a shudder run through him and Jon slumped into the bed, all fight and resistance drained out of him.

Had this happened when he’d been kidnapped? Was Jon the sort to just… give up in resigned fatalism? Martin groaned aloud at the thought, at the idea that Jon would eventually get used to this, stop fighting, and just become… his.

Another small push and Martin found himself fully sheathed inside Jon’s body. He groaned again, and pressed kisses against the back on Jon’s neck.

“See?” he said, hand sliding down Jon’s body to grip his hip. “It’s not so bad.” He pulled out, just a little, and lifted Jon’s hip as he thrust back in. It was amazing. His moan mingled with Jon’s pained gasp, and set a slow, gentle rhythm. “You feel amazing around me. I knew… I always knew you’d be good.”

Jon seemed to be having trouble breathing, so Martin kissed him one last time and thrust into him before sitting back, still inside him. The angle change drew a hiss from Martin’s lips and a cry from Jon’s. But Jon didn’t try to pull away or escape. Both hands were free and Jon just kept them on the bed, above his head, limp and unresisting.

It was all Martin could have asked for. He steadied Jon’s pelvis with both hands and started fucking him in earnest, watching his cock piston in and out of Jon’s body, feeling the swelling and tugging of Jon’s muscle with every movement. It was divine, and Martin had been waiting for so long… He barely lasted a full minute before finishing inside of Jon with a deep, satisfied groan.

A trail of semen followed his cock as he pulled out, running over the back of Jon’s scrotum. Martin frowned a little – Jon hadn’t wanted this, sure, but to have remained flaccid throughout? Martin would have to be a little nicer next time.

With that in mind, he flopped onto the bed next to Jon and pulled the nightshirt over Jon’s head. “Don’t worry,” Martin said cheerfully as Jon looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. “You’ve been forgetting so many things lately. You’ll probably forget this in a few days.” And he kissed him and played with his nipples until they both drifted off to sleep.

Martin woke first and cleaned Jon up, leaving him naked in bed. Annabelle wandered past him a few steps from Jon’s door and obnoxiously sniffed the air. Martin ignored her.

Martin was right. Jon woke up confused, and a little suspicious of him, but it faded as he decided he’d had a bad dream and it would be uncouth to blame Martin for something that happened in a dream. Salesa fed them and played for them, and Jon started visibly drooping just as the sun was setting.

“You’d best be off to bed, boys,” Annabelle chirped from the doorway. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Jon looked up, perturbed. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

Annabelle laughed. “The same thing that happens every day. The end of the world.”

Martin glared at her, but Jon just nodded and shuffled off to his bedroom. Annabelle waved jauntily at them as they left.

No more than ten minutes after they’d retired to their respective rooms, Jon knocked on Martin’s door. “Martin? Can I come in?”

“Jon? Sure.” Martin frowned as Jon walked in. “What’s wrong. Is it Annabelle?”

“What? No. No, I just…” Jon sighed. “I can’t seem to find any sleepwear.”

That was weird. Martin had stripped Jon, but he’d folded the clothes and put them away, to assuage any concerns Jon might have had upon awakening. Still… “You sleep nude here, remember? Something about how the sheets feel against your skin…”

“I do?” Jon looked sceptical, but that didn’t last long. After all this was Martin. He trusted Martin. “Alright, I guess I forgot. I’m forgetting more things lately. I’m not sure how much longer we can stay here.”

“A bit longer, I think,” Martin said, and gently kissed Jon’s cheek. “We’ll discuss it in the morning.”

“Right.” Jon smiled and touched his cheek where Martin had kissed him. “Night, then.”

“Goodnight, Jon.”

Martin waited a full hour before leaving his room.

And running straight into Annabelle.

“Geez!” Martin ground out, barely suppressing a shout. “Warn a guy!” Annabelle was carrying a bundle of clothes. A bundle of clothes that Salesa had given Jon to sleep in. “What… are you doing.”

“Helping,” Annabelle said. “But I want something in return.”

“I never asked…” Martin sighed. “What do you want?”

“To watch.”

Martin didn’t consider himself a clever person, but he wasn’t falling for that blatant a trap. “Watch what?”

“You fucking the Archivist.”

Well. Alright. Not the smooth evasion he had planned. “I don’t…”

“Don’t play dumb. Knowing’s not my thing, but manipulation is, and I know exactly what’s going on. And I could tell him.” She rolled her eyes. “I’d probably have to tell him over and over and over again, but he’d leave. You know he would, once he realized what you were doing.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes! Obviously! Either we’re a team, and I get to watch, or we’re not a team, and I destroy all trust and affection between the two of you. Choose.”

Martin didn’t want her watching. That would ruin the intimacy of it all. “You can’t let Jon see you.”

“Deal.”

“I don’t want to know you’re there either. Do your creepy spider thing and hide.”

“Yes, fine. But this means that you call me, or let me know every time you do this.”

There would be other times. Annabelle would help him ensure this would happen again. “Deal.”

Jon was deeply asleep, and Martin was more prepared this time. He slowly drew the sheets away and positioned Jon on his back, looping the pants that Annabelle had given him around Jon’s wrists and carefully tying them up and anchoring them to the headboard. Jon’s breathing stuttered, but he calmed down as Martin froze, settling back into a deeper sleep. Martin had brought lube this time, or at least an expensive hand cream that Salesa indulged in, and slicked himself up before warming some in the palm of his hand and coating a finger with it.

Jon’s breath hitched as Martin pushed into him, and he pulled on his restraints, but he didn’t wake up. Martin kept his movements slow and gentle as he opened Jon up, then pulled his fingers out and settled between Jon’s legs. Jon still soft, but he was still asleep. He’d wake up soon enough.

Martin pressed in, as slowly as he could stand, entering Jon’s unresisting body smoothly and easily. The heat and tightness enveloped him and he allowed himself a soft groan as he pushed in fully.

Jon woke up.

Martin didn’t wait for the confusion to fade before gripping Jon’s thigh and fucking into him. Jon immediately tensed and Martin groaned as the muscles around his cock clamped down, a delicious pressure that made movement more difficult, but more rewarding. “Yes, Jon.”

“Martin?” Jon said, only now realizing that his hands were bound. “Martin, what…”

“Hush,” Martin said. “You’re doing great. I’m so glad you’re letting me make love to you.”

“I’m…” The confusion on Jon’s face deepened, but he relaxed as Martin’s words comforted him, even as they confused him. Martin took the opportunity and leaned forward, forcing Jon’s legs to bend practically to his chest, and drew Jon in for a wet, dirty kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,” Martin whispered as he fucked Jon from this new angle. “You feel so good. I love you so much…”

“I… Martin… it hurts…”

Martin groaned and gripped Jon’s leg harder. “I know. I’m almost there, Jon.” He sped up, chasing his orgasm. It was close. “Tell me you love me.”

“I…”

“Tell me, Jon. Just say it, and this will all stop.”

“I love you,” Jon said, and if the words sounded desperate and pained, they were still exactly what Martin needed to hear to push himself over the edge. He spilled inside of Jon and kind of collapsed on top of him, pushing the air out of Jon’s lungs in a pained grunt.

It had been incredible. Martin took a few breaths before rolling off Jon, sliding out of him as he cuddled up to Jon’s side. Jon made a soft noise of protest. “Sorry,” Martin said.

“No, I… I agreed to this,” Jon said, his tone uncertain. “I guess… was it good? For you?”

Martin smiled and nodded, sliding his hand up Jon’s side and toying with his nipples. “It was. And now it’s my turn to try to make it good for you.”

“I… actually, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Jon said, squirming away. “If you could just untie me, we can call it even.”

Martin felt a wave of anger roil through him. They were supposed to be lovers and Jon wouldn’t even let him try…

“Martin,” Jon said, and his voice was small. “Please. Untie me.”

He didn’t have to. He could just keep Jon here, like this, and feed him and take care of him and fuck him whenever he felt like it. In a few days, Jon wouldn’t be able to remember anything different.

That thought calmed Martin down. He didn’t have to be cruel. In a few days, Jon wouldn’t know better than to come to him and allow him to make him feel good.

“Of course.” Martin let Jon free, rubbing gently at Jon’s wrists as the blood returned to them. “I’d never do anything you didn’t want me to do.”

“I know.” Jon sighed and relaxed in Martin’s arms. “But I really didn’t like that. I’m sorry if I led you on, but I don’t think I can do that again.”

Martin nodded, but he knew better. He’d have Jon again, sooner than later.

Annabelle appeared behind him just as he was entering his room. “I can help with the bondage, if that what you like.”

Martin jumped a little, but didn’t snap. “I don’t want any more of your help. I don’t see what you’re getting out of this anyway.”

“Really?” Annabelle raised her arms above her head. “Martin… it hurts… I could get off on that for months. Besides, even if it wasn’t so… personally arousing, knowing that The Archivist’s husband is raping him is… useful information.”

“You already knew that.”

“True, but I didn’t know you were making him think he’d consented. That’s messed up. I love it.” Annabelle sighed. “It’s a pity that The Lonely has its hooks so deeply in you. You weave a lovely web when you try.”

“Thanks, I guess.” This was another way Martin has changed. He felt guilty, but it was only adding to the pleasure, not taking away. Annabelle’s approval, likewise, was something he both loathed and enjoyed. “I’m planning on working on him some more tomorrow. Hang around.”

“I will.” Annabelle left him and Martin went to sleep.

The net morning, he pulled Jon into his lap at breakfast, and ‘reminded’ him that he’d promised to let Martin show him more affection. He even ate the food Martin finger-fed him, blushing and confused and disoriented. Annabelle watched it all from a corner, sipping her coffee.

Salesa walked in and stopped. And stared.

“Mikaele,” Annabelle greeted, offering another cup to him. “You have some catching up to do.”

“I see,” Salesa said. “I assume this has to do with this place’s… special attributes.”

“What attributes?” Jon asked, and Martin hushed him with a kiss and an orange slice.

Salesa looked at Martin, his eyes twinkling. “I see. An excellent use of my hospitality, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you,” Martin said, weirdly more okay with Salesa’s appraisal than Annabelle’s. “We’ll be imposing a little longer.”

Jon swallowed. “Really? I mean, it’s lovely here, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not feeling… exactly…”

Martin slipped a small amount of croissant into Jon’s mouth, as pretext for leaving his fingers in there. “Suck, Jon.” Jon’s lips closed around Martin’s fingers and his cheeks drew in. Martin’s eyes never left Salesa’s.

“Hmm… I would remind you that I haven’t asked you for anything in return for staying here,” Salesa told Martin. “Still, if you’re offering, it would be uncouth to refuse.” His nose wrinkled. “But, please, not in the kitchen.”

They adjourned to the music room and Martin removed Jon’s clothes. Jon was cooperative the way a child would be, lifting his legs and raising his arms as Martin peeled his trousers and shirt off, but not participating. “What’s happening?”

“Shh,” Martin soothed, kissing Jon’s neck and shoulder. “You want to be a good guest, don’t you?”

Salesa took a seat at his piano while Annabelle leaned against the far wall. Martin felt a rush from doing this in front of them, showing them what Jon had become for him. No one would pity him for his one-sided crush now. He undid his pants and slicked up his cock. No, now they would envy him.

Jon protested as Martin prepared him, but Martin mostly ignored him, soothing and deflecting his concerns with “Trust me.” and “You promised.” It worked well enough to get Jon to sit on his cock, his back to Martin’s chest, facing Salesa.

“Interesting,” Salesa said.

Jon whined. “Martin, I don’t…”

“C’mon,” Martin urged, hands on Jon’s hips, guiding him up and down. “Show them what you’ve got.”

To Jon’s credit, he tried. He’d been getting weaker and weaker the longer they stayed, but he did try, lifting his hips and then falling back against Martin’s chest with a cry. Martin kissed his shoulder, his neck, and urged him to keep trying. Jon only managed a few more times before shaking his head, tears leaking from his eyes.

“I can’t, I… can’t. I don’t like this, Martin.”

“If I might suggest,” Salesa said, his tone as even as if he were suggesting where to place one of his antiques. “You might find the leverage from bending him over the back of the couch more to your mutual benefit.”

Martin pulled out and carried Jon over behind the couch. The couch blocked most of the details, but Salesa and Annabelle could see Jon’s face, and that was the important thing. Martin gently pressed Jon’s head down until his cheek was pressed against the upholstery.

He could hear Jon faintly pleading with him not to do this, but it was quiet enough to block out. Martin lined himself up and thrust in.

It was perfect. Martin didn’t think he’d ever been this deep in Jon before, ever been able to slam himself in as hard. Jon cried out with each thrust at first, before devolving into whimpers. Martin closed his eyes and savoured the sensation of Jon as he moved inside him, his thrusts unhurried, just enjoying how good he felt.

He opened his eyes to see Salesa gently petting Jon’s hair, one hand on his belt, loosening it. “Have you tried his mouth yet?”

Martin shook his head and grinned, showing teeth. “It’s a risk.”

“Hmm… I see.” Salesa looked down, and whatever he saw in Jon’s face led him to sigh and step back. “Not worth it, I think.”

Martin would have let him. Jon was his now, and Martin could do whatever he wanted with him. He caught a glimpse of Annabelle, her hand down the front of her pants, biting her lower lip, and grinned at her too. They wanted Jon, but he had Jon. Jon. Was. His.

It felt as if his soul left his body with his orgasm. He could feel his fingers digging bruises into Jon’s skin as he came, every muscle straining to empty himself into the one he loved. Owned. Whatever.

He pulled out and gathered Jon into his arms. Jon was a snotty, drooly mess from all the crying he’d done, but he was still lovely. Martin leaned in to kiss him and Jon shoved him away.

“No! N-no. I wouldn’t have agreed to this, you… you’re lying to me.”

Martin smiled. “Jon, you’re being paranoid again. Like at the Institute? Calm down.”

“No.” Jon pushed past him and gathered up his clothes. “I… I can’t think here. I have to leave.” He made a mad dash to the door, but Annabelle was already there.

“C’mon, Jon. The fun’s just getting started. Stay.”

“Just a little bit longer,” Martin said, soothingly, and led Jon upstairs.

Jon blinked at him and looked down at his clothes. “Why am I naked?”

“I’ll tell you when we get to your room, okay?” Martin said, letting one hand slip from the small of Jon’s back to just above his buttocks. “In fact, I’ll show you.”

Jon frowned at him, confused but trusting. “Alright. Just… did I make a fool of myself?”

“Oh, Jon.” Martin laughed. “A little, but that’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

Jon relaxed a little and Martin smiled as he shut the bedroom door behind them.

Thank you for such a lovely comment!

I wasn't sure if I wanted Jon to be freed or not, but in the end I decided that Jonah needed him to end the world, so he just fell back on his original plan.

Honestly, I don't think Jonah even cared about how much he was hurting Martin. He just wanted his way. And Martin had played his role, and Jon would be easier to manipulate without him.

Also, as Peter would say, it continues to be hilarious.

Ashskdbdj for the genuine triad route: and that’s how Jon realised that oh, hey, Elias hot too. Meanwhile Martin’s having the time of his life putting Elias into his place.

You know the uh. The low, flirtatious voice that Alexander Newall uses with Ben Meredith in the most recent set of bloopers? Well,,,

la;fjals;f yES PLEASE i am not used to imaginign my ot3 in comedic setups and omgffshd

...the what

anon

the what

do i uh have some listening to do

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Page 94 of 139

Prompt Post: The Magnus Archives #1

Fill: Jon/Martin, crush investigation 3/3

Re: Fill: Jon/Martin, crush investigation 3/3

Re: Fill: Jon/Martin, crush investigation 3/3

Re: Fill: Jon/Martin, crush investigation 3/3

Re: Fill: Jon/Martin, crush investigation 3/3

Re: Fill: Jon/Martin, crush investigation 3/3

Prompt: Jon/Martin/Elias, time travel, mistaken identity

Re: Prompt: Jon/Martin/Elias, time travel, mistaken identity

Prompt: Stranger/Tim, Tim/anyone, noncon + nullification/castration

Re: fill: Jonah/Elias, possession sex (2/2)

Re: Fill: Jon/Martin, crush investigation 3/3

Re: Prompt: Jon/Martin/Elias, time travel, mistaken identity

Fill: Martin Blackwood/"Jonathan Sims" (Jonah Magnus), Body Hopping, Mistaken Identity 1/3

Fill: Martin Blackwood/"Jonathan Sims" (Jonah Magnus), Body Hopping, Mistaken Identity 2/3

Fill: Martin Blackwood/"Jonathan Sims" (Jonah Magnus), Body Hopping, Mistaken Identity 3/3

Fill: Martin Blackwood/"Jonathan Sims" (Jonah Magnus), Body Hopping, CONTENT WARNINGS

Re: Fill: Martin Blackwood/"Jonathan Sims" (Jonah Magnus), Body Hopping, Mistaken Identity 3/3

Re: Prompt: Jon/Martin/Elias, time travel, mistaken identity

Fill: Jon/Martin, Non-Con 1/2

Fill: Jon/Martin, Non-Con 2/2

Re: Fill: Martin Blackwood/"Jonathan Sims" (Jonah Magnus), Body Hopping, Mistaken Identity 3/3

Re: Prompt: Jon/Martin/Elias, time travel, mistaken identity

Re: Prompt: Jon/Martin/Elias, time travel, mistaken identity

Re: Prompt: Jon/Martin/Elias, time travel, mistaken identity

Re: Prompt: Jon/Martin/Elias, time travel, mistaken identity