It’s exactly where a door should be. Apart from being yellow, it doesn’t really stand out. The rest of the doors are the same bland white that they likely were in the hardware store before they were installed. The yellow door looks like it should go somewhere, but nowhere interesting, really, and they explore the rest of the house and start unpacking without checking it out. Martin’s not even sure Jon noticed it, honestly. Jon’s been tense and on edge since they left London, while Martin, still recovering from The Lonely, has been more passive and open. Jon has checked the kitchen for supplies and started a shopping list, while Martin has wandered from room to room, noting what’s there without any particular agenda.
They meet in the bedroom, Jon focused on organizing the room to optimize the space, Martin meandering in and just watching him from the doorway, not doing anything to draw attention to himself.
Jon notices him anyway. He looks up from where he’s plugging a power bar into the only outlet in the room and smiles.
“There’s only one bed,” Martin says. “I’m pretty sure the couch is an avatar of an eldritch power and will attempt to consume anyone who lies across it.”
Jon’s smile falters, then widens as he gets the joke. “I can’t believe we escaped Jonah Magnus only to fall prey to an evil couch.”
“I think we might avert it,” Martin says. He’s still too numb to feel his feelings as strongly as he usually does, so the embarrassment doesn’t overwhelm him. “The bed’s big enough.”
“Yeah?” Jon’s not at all angry or affronted. He just looks at the bed, then back at Martin. “I think it might be. But… if that’s what we’re going to do, we need to have a talk first.”
That’s better than Martin had expected. “Sure. What about?”
Jon takes a deep breath. “I love you, Martin. But I’m not… I don’t…”
“Yeah, Melanie said.”
Jon stares at him. “Melanie said?”
“Yeah, she said Georgie told her… huh. Actually, that was kind of inappropriate of her to share. Both of them, really. Didn’t you listen to the statement Melanie recorded? When you were… away?”
Jon frowns, then nods. “Ah, yes. The Daedalus one. Actually, I mostly missed that, what with Elias feeding Melanie the nightmarish information about how her father suffered as he died. Office gossip seemed rather less… important after that.”
“Right.” Well, if there had been a mood, that would have ruined it. “I just meant that I get it. It’s fine.”
“Good,” Jon says, and starts to… flicker a little? Martin blinks and refocuses, and everything seems to turn back to normal. He isn’t so tired that he should have had anything wrong with his vision. Maybe it’s just dusty in here. “I was just hoping to go through some ground-rules before we got started.”
Martin cocks his head to the side. There was a weird echo to Jon’s voice. “Ground-rules?”
“Yes, like… well, for instance I’m unlikely to get hard, no matter what you do to me.”
Martin’s a little surprised by that. “I though we weren’t going to do anything.”
“We don’t have to,” Jon says. “But I wouldn’t mind. I have a few issues that make sex complicated and difficult, and no one’s ever been willing to work through them with me. If you are…”
Martin feels his heart skip a beat, and can’t decide if it’s excitement or anxiety. That Jon would trust him that far… “Of course! I mean, yeah, whatever you need.” Not even that, though. “Whatever you want.” Yes. That’s more right. For the first time, the fuzziness of The Lonely seems to fade, as if a rising sun is melting away morning fog.
Jon smiles at him, and Martin’s heart gives another pitter-patter. “I don’t want to want things. It feels like the worst sort of indulgence. I’d usually like fighting back, but I’m not sure about my own strength yet, so it’d probably be best to restrain me.”
“It… okay. Um. Do we have anything?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Oh, on that note, start after I’m asleep. I’ll tense up if you try to tie me up while I’m awake. If you like, you can start prepping me while I’m asleep too. That part’s always boring. Just wake me up before the good part.”
“Okay.” Martin feels completely overwhelmed. But in a good way? “I can do that. So… you do like sex?”
“I’m just really picky,” Jon says. “And I don’t like that I like it. So either you can gag me, or give me a safeword and let me beg you to stop without you stopping.”
Oddly enough, Martin feels more comfortable with that. “Safeword, please. I don’t want you to be unable to say anything. And I… I want to hear you.”
Jon smiles a smile Martin had never seen on his face before. “I want that too. I want to make you feel good, Martin. Is there anything you need from me?”
“Um. No, I think I’m good with just. All that. Uh. Do you have a preference? For a safeword?”
Jon shrugs. “Banana.”
It’s good. Boring, easy to say, clear, and different from any word Jon might use during sex. “Okay,” Martin says. He’s beginning to think this might actually work.
“There’s one more thing.”
Of course there is. The more Martin thinks about it, the less odd it seems that Jonathan Sims has a laundry list of things he needs in order to have sex. “What else?”
“I like pain.”
“No, you don’t,” Martin says. He’d seen Jon in pain. Jon hated pain.
“I didn’t,” Jon says. “I’ve been… experimenting since I’ve become The Archivist. Pain is the only thing that stimulates me anymore. I don’t want just pain, of course. I just need a little while you’re fucking me. Like, hit me or slap my face.” His smile sharpens. “I’d prefer the face. You can use sharp objects if you like…”
“No! Absolutely not!” Martin wraps his arms around himself. The last fuzzy comfort of The Lonely melts under the horror of what Jon’s asking him to do.
Jon’s face falls. “Alright. I get it. I’m not… normal, Martin. I understand if you don’t want to put forth this much effort, just to make me feel comfortable with things most people can do without even thinking about them.”
Martin immediately feels like a total heel. “I just meant that I didn’t want to cut you or anything. A little slapping is… I can do that.” He doesn’t want to. It turns his stomach a little. But he can. For Jon. Anything to make Jon comfortable with this, to share this with him.
“I’d heal,” Jon says, “but I understand. It’d make a mess. Just slapping will be fine. Are you sure there’s nothing you want from me?”
“No, I… No.” Martin wants to ask for things. For the right to kiss him, to sit close to him when they’re reading or eating together. For Jon to smile at him like he’s happy to see him. Those aren’t things you ask for during a kink negotiation, though. Those are gifts that are freely given if given at all.
Jon nods. “Alright. Then all I ask is that we not have this conversation again. I don’t like acknowledging my needs like this.” He flickered again. “Thank you, Martin.”
He sounds relieved. As if this had been a difficult conversation for him. Martin loves him so much. “Of course, Jon. Anything for you.”
The sound of a tape recorder turning off goes unnoted.
The next day, Jon sends Martin off to the village with a shopping list. It’s unremarkable: bread, tea, milk, eggs, other groceries. Notably absent is anything about ropes or condoms or lube or anything. He must be trusting Martin to figure all that out. Makes sense, seeing as he admitted that he doesn’t like talking about these things. Martin finds some hempen rope that’s a little rough, but strong. He buys some silk scarves to wrap them with, to limit chafing. It’s okay, he tries to convince himself. Jon will heal.
He also buys condoms and lube, of course. He tries to separate the items so that they’re not so obviously meant to be grouped together, but the shopkeeper’s pleasant smile has an amused twist to it that indicates that she noticed. Martin sighs as soon as he leaves the store and puts all the sex-related things into one bag so that he can hide them from Jon when he gets back.
Jon looks up and smiles when he comes in, and Martin’s heart does the fluttering thing again. He takes some of the bags from Martin and hesitates before placing a light kiss on Martin’s cheek before turning and fleeing to the kitchen. Martin melts. Jon doesn’t like sex without the whole removal-of-agency/pain thing, but he’s willing to give Martin the intimacies he wants. That’s what a relationship is like – compromising. Martin hides the sex bag and steels himself. He can give Jon what he wants, even the thought of hurting him makes Martin a little sick. If Jon can smile at him and kiss his cheek, Martin can tie him up and beat him.
They eat and spend the evening sitting on opposite ends of the couch, reading. The night before, they’d slept together, not even touching. It had been warm and nice, but their conversation had invaded Martin’s mind and he’d woken up hard. He hadn’t done anything about it, but the arousal never seemed to fully go away. Even now, he’s aware of Jon’s body in a nice, tingly sort of way. He’s going to give Jon exactly what he asked for, as best he can.
After they crawl into bed, it seems to take forever for Jon to fall asleep. It only takes about fifteen minutes, but it’s the longest fifteen minutes of Martin’s life. He slips out of bed as soon as he’s sure Jon’s out, and wraps the rope with the scarves. It works surprisingly well, and actually feels nice when Martin tests it. If Jon wants, they can use the naked rope next time. It would no doubt hurt more, but Martin doesn’t want it to distract from what he’s going to be doing to Jon on purpose.
Tying Jon to the headboard goes well. Martin knows that Jon sees the nightmares of those whose statements he’s taken when he sleeps, and that he can’t easily wake from that state. It’s one of the reasons he prefers not to sleep unless he absolutely needs to. Martin anchors his hands, then goes to his legs, removing his pajama bottoms.
This was more difficult. There’s nothing to tie them to, except themselves. So that’s what Martin does. The loops he ties around Jon’s ankles work well, but the loops around his thighs are tight, digging into what little fat and muscle Jon has. It could conceivably cut off circulation quite badly. Still, Jon will heal, and Martin can’t think of a better way. It’ll have to do.
He’s not displeased with his work. If Jon has criticisms, well, Martin’s good at taking instructions. He can learn. He can earn Jon’s love.
Which brings him to the next part. With Jon’s legs bound, Martin has easy access to his groin. Jon’s soft, as he warned Martin he would be, but Martin nuzzles at him anyway, breathing in Jon’s deep musk. He kisses Jon’s cock, then moves down to his balls, then lower. He’s going to fuck that hole, and he’s full of warm affection and anticipation. Jon stirs, just a soft sound and a small shift, and Martin refocuses on his job.
He slicks up his fingers and presses inside. It’s too soon, the lube is too cool, and Jon flinches and clenches around him. Martin holds his breath and watches Jon avidly as he frowns and shifts and doesn’t quite wake up. That was too close. Martin kisses the inside of Jon’s thigh because he can’t not, and waits until the lube is body-warmed before pressing a second finger inside.
Jon is tight. Martin works him open slowly, feeling his own body respond as Jon’s muscles clench and release around his fingers. He’s hard now, and Jon’s almost ready. He kisses Jon’s thigh again and pulls his fingers out, rolling a condom over his cock and slicking it up before pressing against Jon’s entrance. It’s slower going than the fingers, but Martin’s less careful now that he’s in position and doesn’t mind Jon waking up.
Which he does, when Martin’s about halfway inside him. His eyes widen. “Martin? What are you doing?”
Martin had initially planned to review their safeword and agreed-upon limits first, but Jon seems eager to start right away. Martin can do that. “I’m fucking you, Jon.” He’s supposed to be taking away Jon’s agency. “Whether you like it or not.”
Jon’s eyes grow impossibly larger. “No, I…” He pulls at the ropes holding him to the headboard, and Martin feels a small surge of pride when they don’t give. “Stop. You don’t have to do this.”
Banana, Martin thinks to himself, reinforcing it in his memory. “It’s not about need, Jon. It’s about want. Specifically, what I want.” Martin gives a sharp thrust of his hips, and buries himself deeper into Jon’s body, almost all the way. “Now, are you going to lie there quietly, or do I need to shut you up?”
“Who’s making you do this?” Jon asked, and there’s a heaviness to his words. “Is it The Web?”
Martin’s mouth opens of its own accord. “I’m giving you want you want, even if you won’t admit you want it. Because I love you. Because I want to be good for you. Because I want you to kiss me and smile at me and let me make you tea and sit next to you.” The words stop and Martin realizes what Jon has done. “Well played.” He couldn’t ask Martin to hit him, so he compelled the answer to a stupid question. “No more of that, I think.”
Jon’s brows draw together in that lovely stubborn way they did when he was getting frustrated. “Martin, something’s wrong with–”
Martin slaps him. It isn’t that hard, but it’s across his cheek and leaves a lovely red mark. Martin’s stomach twists in an odd combination of guilt and arousal. He hadn’t wanted to do it, still didn’t want to do it, but Jon really did look lovely with Martin’s mark on his face. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as difficult as Martin had feared.
“Shut up,” Martin said, knowing Jon wouldn’t. “The only words I want to hear from you are more, please, and my name.”
“Just stop for a moment and we can talk about this,” Jon says desperately, testing the rope again. Martin hits him again, backhand and harder this time, and the sound that Jon makes goes straight to his cock. Martin slams the rest of the way in, and starts fucking Jon in earnest.
“I don’t want to hear you talk,” Martin says, barely holding himself together as he moves inside Jon. “I want to hear you scream for me.”
Jon doesn’t scream. He writhes and twists and begs Martin to stop over and over again. It’s hard to keep fucking him as hard as Martin wants while giving him the punishments he’s asking for, but Martin manages it, bracing himself on his left arm and raining down open-handed blows and backhands every time Jon speaks. When Jon finally stops after a particularly vicious backhand, Martin takes the opportunity to grope between their bodies for Jon’s cock, finding it still flaccid and limp. It’s a small disappointment, but Jon had warned him to expect that. Martin plays with it a little anyway, tugging lightly and running his thumb over the head. To his surprise, it responds, thickening and growing heavier in his hand.
“Oh god, no,” Jon says, sounding truly horrified. They hadn’t talked about this, about what to do if Jon’s body reacted like this. Martin wants it, but he’s willing to leave it for now. Maybe it means he’s doing a good job. Maybe, if he’s good enough, Jon will let him make him come later. For now, Martin’s too afraid of making a mistake.
They’ll have other chances, Martin’s sure. As long as he shows Jon he’s good enough.
“You’re so beautiful,” Martin breathes out reverently, releasing Jon’s cock and planting his arms on either side of Jon’s head. He’s getting close, and he wants to finish as deep inside Jon as he can get. “I’ve wanted this for so long, and you…” He brushes his lips against Jon’s cheeks, feeling the heat from the skin there and tasting the salt of his tears, before kissing him. “Thank you so much. I love you.” He closes his eyes as he comes, always does, so he can’t see Jon’s face.
Fill: Jon/Martin, Noncon, Spiral made them do it 1/4
It’s exactly where a door should be. Apart from being yellow, it doesn’t really stand out. The rest of the doors are the same bland white that they likely were in the hardware store before they were installed. The yellow door looks like it should go somewhere, but nowhere interesting, really, and they explore the rest of the house and start unpacking without checking it out. Martin’s not even sure Jon noticed it, honestly. Jon’s been tense and on edge since they left London, while Martin, still recovering from The Lonely, has been more passive and open. Jon has checked the kitchen for supplies and started a shopping list, while Martin has wandered from room to room, noting what’s there without any particular agenda.
They meet in the bedroom, Jon focused on organizing the room to optimize the space, Martin meandering in and just watching him from the doorway, not doing anything to draw attention to himself.
Jon notices him anyway. He looks up from where he’s plugging a power bar into the only outlet in the room and smiles.
“There’s only one bed,” Martin says. “I’m pretty sure the couch is an avatar of an eldritch power and will attempt to consume anyone who lies across it.”
Jon’s smile falters, then widens as he gets the joke. “I can’t believe we escaped Jonah Magnus only to fall prey to an evil couch.”
“I think we might avert it,” Martin says. He’s still too numb to feel his feelings as strongly as he usually does, so the embarrassment doesn’t overwhelm him. “The bed’s big enough.”
“Yeah?” Jon’s not at all angry or affronted. He just looks at the bed, then back at Martin. “I think it might be. But… if that’s what we’re going to do, we need to have a talk first.”
That’s better than Martin had expected. “Sure. What about?”
Jon takes a deep breath. “I love you, Martin. But I’m not… I don’t…”
“Yeah, Melanie said.”
Jon stares at him. “Melanie said?”
“Yeah, she said Georgie told her… huh. Actually, that was kind of inappropriate of her to share. Both of them, really. Didn’t you listen to the statement Melanie recorded? When you were… away?”
Jon frowns, then nods. “Ah, yes. The Daedalus one. Actually, I mostly missed that, what with Elias feeding Melanie the nightmarish information about how her father suffered as he died. Office gossip seemed rather less… important after that.”
“Right.” Well, if there had been a mood, that would have ruined it. “I just meant that I get it. It’s fine.”
“Good,” Jon says, and starts to… flicker a little? Martin blinks and refocuses, and everything seems to turn back to normal. He isn’t so tired that he should have had anything wrong with his vision. Maybe it’s just dusty in here. “I was just hoping to go through some ground-rules before we got started.”
Martin cocks his head to the side. There was a weird echo to Jon’s voice. “Ground-rules?”
“Yes, like… well, for instance I’m unlikely to get hard, no matter what you do to me.”
Martin’s a little surprised by that. “I though we weren’t going to do anything.”
“We don’t have to,” Jon says. “But I wouldn’t mind. I have a few issues that make sex complicated and difficult, and no one’s ever been willing to work through them with me. If you are…”
Martin feels his heart skip a beat, and can’t decide if it’s excitement or anxiety. That Jon would trust him that far… “Of course! I mean, yeah, whatever you need.” Not even that, though. “Whatever you want.” Yes. That’s more right. For the first time, the fuzziness of The Lonely seems to fade, as if a rising sun is melting away morning fog.
Jon smiles at him, and Martin’s heart gives another pitter-patter. “I don’t want to want things. It feels like the worst sort of indulgence. I’d usually like fighting back, but I’m not sure about my own strength yet, so it’d probably be best to restrain me.”
“It… okay. Um. Do we have anything?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Oh, on that note, start after I’m asleep. I’ll tense up if you try to tie me up while I’m awake. If you like, you can start prepping me while I’m asleep too. That part’s always boring. Just wake me up before the good part.”
“Okay.” Martin feels completely overwhelmed. But in a good way? “I can do that. So… you do like sex?”
“I’m just really picky,” Jon says. “And I don’t like that I like it. So either you can gag me, or give me a safeword and let me beg you to stop without you stopping.”
Oddly enough, Martin feels more comfortable with that. “Safeword, please. I don’t want you to be unable to say anything. And I… I want to hear you.”
Jon smiles a smile Martin had never seen on his face before. “I want that too. I want to make you feel good, Martin. Is there anything you need from me?”
“Um. No, I think I’m good with just. All that. Uh. Do you have a preference? For a safeword?”
Jon shrugs. “Banana.”
It’s good. Boring, easy to say, clear, and different from any word Jon might use during sex. “Okay,” Martin says. He’s beginning to think this might actually work.
“There’s one more thing.”
Of course there is. The more Martin thinks about it, the less odd it seems that Jonathan Sims has a laundry list of things he needs in order to have sex. “What else?”
“I like pain.”
“No, you don’t,” Martin says. He’d seen Jon in pain. Jon hated pain.
“I didn’t,” Jon says. “I’ve been… experimenting since I’ve become The Archivist. Pain is the only thing that stimulates me anymore. I don’t want just pain, of course. I just need a little while you’re fucking me. Like, hit me or slap my face.” His smile sharpens. “I’d prefer the face. You can use sharp objects if you like…”
“No! Absolutely not!” Martin wraps his arms around himself. The last fuzzy comfort of The Lonely melts under the horror of what Jon’s asking him to do.
Jon’s face falls. “Alright. I get it. I’m not… normal, Martin. I understand if you don’t want to put forth this much effort, just to make me feel comfortable with things most people can do without even thinking about them.”
Martin immediately feels like a total heel. “I just meant that I didn’t want to cut you or anything. A little slapping is… I can do that.” He doesn’t want to. It turns his stomach a little. But he can. For Jon. Anything to make Jon comfortable with this, to share this with him.
“I’d heal,” Jon says, “but I understand. It’d make a mess. Just slapping will be fine. Are you sure there’s nothing you want from me?”
“No, I… No.” Martin wants to ask for things. For the right to kiss him, to sit close to him when they’re reading or eating together. For Jon to smile at him like he’s happy to see him. Those aren’t things you ask for during a kink negotiation, though. Those are gifts that are freely given if given at all.
Jon nods. “Alright. Then all I ask is that we not have this conversation again. I don’t like acknowledging my needs like this.” He flickered again. “Thank you, Martin.”
He sounds relieved. As if this had been a difficult conversation for him. Martin loves him so much. “Of course, Jon. Anything for you.”
The sound of a tape recorder turning off goes unnoted.
The next day, Jon sends Martin off to the village with a shopping list. It’s unremarkable: bread, tea, milk, eggs, other groceries. Notably absent is anything about ropes or condoms or lube or anything. He must be trusting Martin to figure all that out. Makes sense, seeing as he admitted that he doesn’t like talking about these things. Martin finds some hempen rope that’s a little rough, but strong. He buys some silk scarves to wrap them with, to limit chafing. It’s okay, he tries to convince himself. Jon will heal.
He also buys condoms and lube, of course. He tries to separate the items so that they’re not so obviously meant to be grouped together, but the shopkeeper’s pleasant smile has an amused twist to it that indicates that she noticed. Martin sighs as soon as he leaves the store and puts all the sex-related things into one bag so that he can hide them from Jon when he gets back.
Jon looks up and smiles when he comes in, and Martin’s heart does the fluttering thing again. He takes some of the bags from Martin and hesitates before placing a light kiss on Martin’s cheek before turning and fleeing to the kitchen. Martin melts. Jon doesn’t like sex without the whole removal-of-agency/pain thing, but he’s willing to give Martin the intimacies he wants. That’s what a relationship is like – compromising. Martin hides the sex bag and steels himself. He can give Jon what he wants, even the thought of hurting him makes Martin a little sick. If Jon can smile at him and kiss his cheek, Martin can tie him up and beat him.
They eat and spend the evening sitting on opposite ends of the couch, reading. The night before, they’d slept together, not even touching. It had been warm and nice, but their conversation had invaded Martin’s mind and he’d woken up hard. He hadn’t done anything about it, but the arousal never seemed to fully go away. Even now, he’s aware of Jon’s body in a nice, tingly sort of way. He’s going to give Jon exactly what he asked for, as best he can.
After they crawl into bed, it seems to take forever for Jon to fall asleep. It only takes about fifteen minutes, but it’s the longest fifteen minutes of Martin’s life. He slips out of bed as soon as he’s sure Jon’s out, and wraps the rope with the scarves. It works surprisingly well, and actually feels nice when Martin tests it. If Jon wants, they can use the naked rope next time. It would no doubt hurt more, but Martin doesn’t want it to distract from what he’s going to be doing to Jon on purpose.
Tying Jon to the headboard goes well. Martin knows that Jon sees the nightmares of those whose statements he’s taken when he sleeps, and that he can’t easily wake from that state. It’s one of the reasons he prefers not to sleep unless he absolutely needs to. Martin anchors his hands, then goes to his legs, removing his pajama bottoms.
This was more difficult. There’s nothing to tie them to, except themselves. So that’s what Martin does. The loops he ties around Jon’s ankles work well, but the loops around his thighs are tight, digging into what little fat and muscle Jon has. It could conceivably cut off circulation quite badly. Still, Jon will heal, and Martin can’t think of a better way. It’ll have to do.
He’s not displeased with his work. If Jon has criticisms, well, Martin’s good at taking instructions. He can learn. He can earn Jon’s love.
Which brings him to the next part. With Jon’s legs bound, Martin has easy access to his groin. Jon’s soft, as he warned Martin he would be, but Martin nuzzles at him anyway, breathing in Jon’s deep musk. He kisses Jon’s cock, then moves down to his balls, then lower. He’s going to fuck that hole, and he’s full of warm affection and anticipation. Jon stirs, just a soft sound and a small shift, and Martin refocuses on his job.
He slicks up his fingers and presses inside. It’s too soon, the lube is too cool, and Jon flinches and clenches around him. Martin holds his breath and watches Jon avidly as he frowns and shifts and doesn’t quite wake up. That was too close. Martin kisses the inside of Jon’s thigh because he can’t not, and waits until the lube is body-warmed before pressing a second finger inside.
Jon is tight. Martin works him open slowly, feeling his own body respond as Jon’s muscles clench and release around his fingers. He’s hard now, and Jon’s almost ready. He kisses Jon’s thigh again and pulls his fingers out, rolling a condom over his cock and slicking it up before pressing against Jon’s entrance. It’s slower going than the fingers, but Martin’s less careful now that he’s in position and doesn’t mind Jon waking up.
Which he does, when Martin’s about halfway inside him. His eyes widen. “Martin? What are you doing?”
Martin had initially planned to review their safeword and agreed-upon limits first, but Jon seems eager to start right away. Martin can do that. “I’m fucking you, Jon.” He’s supposed to be taking away Jon’s agency. “Whether you like it or not.”
Jon’s eyes grow impossibly larger. “No, I…” He pulls at the ropes holding him to the headboard, and Martin feels a small surge of pride when they don’t give. “Stop. You don’t have to do this.”
Banana, Martin thinks to himself, reinforcing it in his memory. “It’s not about need, Jon. It’s about want. Specifically, what I want.” Martin gives a sharp thrust of his hips, and buries himself deeper into Jon’s body, almost all the way. “Now, are you going to lie there quietly, or do I need to shut you up?”
“Who’s making you do this?” Jon asked, and there’s a heaviness to his words. “Is it The Web?”
Martin’s mouth opens of its own accord. “I’m giving you want you want, even if you won’t admit you want it. Because I love you. Because I want to be good for you. Because I want you to kiss me and smile at me and let me make you tea and sit next to you.” The words stop and Martin realizes what Jon has done. “Well played.” He couldn’t ask Martin to hit him, so he compelled the answer to a stupid question. “No more of that, I think.”
Jon’s brows draw together in that lovely stubborn way they did when he was getting frustrated. “Martin, something’s wrong with–”
Martin slaps him. It isn’t that hard, but it’s across his cheek and leaves a lovely red mark. Martin’s stomach twists in an odd combination of guilt and arousal. He hadn’t wanted to do it, still didn’t want to do it, but Jon really did look lovely with Martin’s mark on his face. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as difficult as Martin had feared.
“Shut up,” Martin said, knowing Jon wouldn’t. “The only words I want to hear from you are more, please, and my name.”
“Just stop for a moment and we can talk about this,” Jon says desperately, testing the rope again. Martin hits him again, backhand and harder this time, and the sound that Jon makes goes straight to his cock. Martin slams the rest of the way in, and starts fucking Jon in earnest.
“I don’t want to hear you talk,” Martin says, barely holding himself together as he moves inside Jon. “I want to hear you scream for me.”
Jon doesn’t scream. He writhes and twists and begs Martin to stop over and over again. It’s hard to keep fucking him as hard as Martin wants while giving him the punishments he’s asking for, but Martin manages it, bracing himself on his left arm and raining down open-handed blows and backhands every time Jon speaks. When Jon finally stops after a particularly vicious backhand, Martin takes the opportunity to grope between their bodies for Jon’s cock, finding it still flaccid and limp. It’s a small disappointment, but Jon had warned him to expect that. Martin plays with it a little anyway, tugging lightly and running his thumb over the head. To his surprise, it responds, thickening and growing heavier in his hand.
“Oh god, no,” Jon says, sounding truly horrified. They hadn’t talked about this, about what to do if Jon’s body reacted like this. Martin wants it, but he’s willing to leave it for now. Maybe it means he’s doing a good job. Maybe, if he’s good enough, Jon will let him make him come later. For now, Martin’s too afraid of making a mistake.
They’ll have other chances, Martin’s sure. As long as he shows Jon he’s good enough.
“You’re so beautiful,” Martin breathes out reverently, releasing Jon’s cock and planting his arms on either side of Jon’s head. He’s getting close, and he wants to finish as deep inside Jon as he can get. “I’ve wanted this for so long, and you…” He brushes his lips against Jon’s cheeks, feeling the heat from the skin there and tasting the salt of his tears, before kissing him. “Thank you so much. I love you.” He closes his eyes as he comes, always does, so he can’t see Jon’s face.