Martin chewed on the end of his pen thoughtfully as he tried to decipher the notes Jon had scrawled in the file that he was currently working on. He was aware of a set of eyes watching him, and glanced up to see Tim staring at him. Or more specifically, his mouth.
“Can I help you?” Martin asked, putting the pen down on his desk.
The motion seemed to snap Tim back into the moment and his face broke out into his signature flirtatious grin. “I don’t know about helping me, but I’m pretty sure I could help you out.” Tim sent an exaggerated wink in Martin’s direction before turning his attention back to the file on his own desk. The choked noise that Martin let out didn’t escape his notice however.
“Tim, we’re at work!” Martin exclaimed, his voice strangled in its attempt to keep the volume down so as not to disturb the relative peace they got when Jon had his office door shut. Sasha was out following up a lead, but that didn’t stop Martin from getting flustered in case someone heard.
“And?” Tim asked, his eyebrows raised and expression openly innocent. “There’s nobody else here right now.” He watched the blush rise up from Martin’s neck and colour his cheeks. It amused him to see the other man flustered, which was why he had been leaning in to flirting with Martin a lot more openly since they had spent the night together at his flat after Martin’s birthday. They had both agreed that there was something more between them, but Martin was always hesitant when it came to relationships. He had been burnt too many times in the past to allow himself to move too quickly with a partner, and Tim respected him for it. It didn’t stop him from being a shameless flirt, but Martin secretly liked the attention.
“Jon’s in his office,” Martin hissed, leaning across his desk towards Tim in an almost conspiratorial manner. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear you flirting in the background of his recordings again.” At those words, Tim actually blushed, something that Martin rarely saw, but cherished dearly each time it happened.
“That was one time,” he replied indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. “And I apologised for it. Even offered to buy him lunch if he wanted to re-record it.”
“And what was his response?” Martin asked, his words probing at the semblance of defense Tim had thrown up.
“That he wouldn’t have needed to record it again if I could manage to keep it in my pants during working hours,” Tim muttered, staring resolutely at the closed door of Jon’s office. “That’s also why the miserable git started shutting his door. Maybe if he had done that in the first place…” He raised his voice at his last statement, only to be interrupted by a paper ball that Martin had thrown across the room hitting him in the cheek. He turned his attention back to Martin to see the wide smile of a man who knew exactly what kind of game he was getting himself into.
Tim spent the rest of the day doing his best to fluster Martin which, as always, was surprisingly easy. The most shocking thing to Tim was the fact that Martin was actively trying to flirt back. Or he was, until Jon had burst out of his office about 3pm to ask ‘what all of the childish giggling was about, this was a workplace dammit.’ Tim had pulled a face behind Jon’s back at the words, which caused Martin to nearly bite through his lip to contain the laugh that threatened to spill out.
“Just because my back is turned, doesn’t mean I don’t know what you’re doing behind me, Tim,” Jon intoned, his stern expression never faltering. “Keep it up and I’ll have you organising statement boxes for the rest of the week.”
Tim’s expression dropped marginally, as if he was expecting Jon to turn around. “Won’t happen again, boss,” he said, throwing a wink at Martin. Martin clenched his teeth harder to stop himself from speaking.
“It better not. We have enough work as it is without the three of you interrupting my recordings. Actually, where is Sasha?” Jon asked, looking around the space as if expecting her to materialise out of thin air.
Having composed himself enough to talk, Martin answered the question. “You sent her out to follow up on some statements?” He phrased it more like a question, especially after Jon turned his full attention towards him.
“Did I?” Martin exchanged a look with Tim over the top of Jon’s head. “I suppose I must have done.”
Martin couldn’t help himself. “Jon, have you actually left your office at all today?” Tim rolled his eyes dramatically and Martin tried very hard not to look at him so that he didn’t give anything away. “You sound as if you probably need to take a break.”
“I’m fine thank you, Martin,” Jon replied tersely. “Perhaps if you spent more time focusing on your work than what I was doing in my office then we would all have the chance to leave on time.” With that, he turned on his heel and stalked back across the archives into his office, slamming the door behind him.
“What’s got into him?” Martin asked, giving the closed door one more cursory glance before turning his attention back to his screen.
“It’s less about what’s gotten into him, and more about what I can get into you.”
Martin spluttered in shock, and Tim just grinned at him. “Tim please, ” he whined.
Striding the few steps across the office, Tim bent towards Martin and kissed his cheek quickly. “Your wish is my command,” he muttered darkly into Martin’s ear, which caused his cheeks to colour. Tim could also see the blush spreading down his neck and disappearing under the open collar of his shirt. “I can’t wait to hear you begging me later.”
It was an easy decision to go back to Martin’s flat that night. They had been there a few times in the past for takeout Fridays when it fell around the same time as payday, plus Martin was a creature of comfort. He liked his sofa, and his bed, and he knew his way around as a host. Being at Tim’s, once he had sobered up, had been almost overwhelming to him. He wanted to be able to just open up a cupboard and find exactly what he was looking for - something that he wasn’t able to do at Tim’s. Tim, on the other hand, was comfortable wherever. He held himself with an ease that meant that he could fit into any situation easily, something that Martin was endlessly jealous of. Part of it was the fact that Tim was comfortable in his own skin.
When they stepped out of the tube station at Martin’s stop, and Tim casually took Martin’s hand in his own, it took everything Martin had in him to keep his cool. He liked that Tim was comfortable and confident enough to do this, and also that he liked Martin enough to - something that some of Martin’s previous partners had not. It was only a short trip to his flat, but Martin could feel the anticipation beginning to roll off his skin as he walked. Tim was coming back to his flat, and this time there was an ulterior motive behind it. To say he was nervous was an understatement, but he was excited at the same time. He and Tim had discussed, in between the usual bouts of flirting from Tim, what this next step in their relationship would mean to the both of them. They both felt that it was the right time, but neither really knew what to expect from the encounter. Especially after the way Tim had been flirting that day. Though he was a creature of romance, Martin didn’t want romancing. It had taken a while for Tim to get him to admit it, but he had already expressed that he liked to take things a little rougher, something which Tim had readily agreed to help with.
As Martin fumbled with the keys to his flat, he could already feel Tim trying to crowd him up against the door, which only caused his hands to shake more. Seeing this, Tim took a half step back to at least allow Martin to get them into the privacy of his own hallway rather than that of the communal corridor. Once they had both crossed the threshold, and Tim had closed the door behind him, he tugged on Martin’s hand to drag him back against his chest.
“T-Tim.,” Martin stuttered. Tim said nothing, wrapping his arms around Martin and pressing a kiss to the soft skin on the underside of his jaw. “Tim.” It was hard for Martin to think straight with Tim’s attention so focused on him, but he slowly extracted himself from Tim’s arms. The bereft look that briefly crossed Tim’s features was almost enough to make him step back into his arms, but he walked backwards towards his living room, beckoning Tim to follow, which the other man did readily.
“Let’s talk about us.”
To the surprise of both of them, it was Martin who made the second first move. They sat curled together in front of the muted television, empty takeaway containers spread over the small coffee table. Tim’s arm was thrown over his shoulders, and Martin lay on his chest, his head tucked neatly into the gap between Tim’s chin and shoulder. It was easy for him to reach up and capture Tim’s lips. The other man jolted in surprise, though he relaxed into it quickly, allowing Martin to take the lead in that moment.
Martin fisted his hands into the material of Tim’s shirt as he deepened the kiss, opening his mouth as an invitation that Tim took. Tim curled his fingers tightly into Martin’s hair and tugged, which elicited a gasp allowing Tim’s tongue to explore further into Martin’s willing mouth. He used the leverage to push Martin back and crowd into his space, before pulling back and rising from the sofa, holding his hand down for Martin to take.
Pulling Martin up, he tilted his head slightly. “Bedroom?” The one word made Martin flush, though his pupils blew wide with want. He led the way, his hand grasping Tim’s tightly, their fingers interlocked. After crossing the threshold to the room, Tim pushed Martin backwards the few steps to the bed, where he sank down gratefully onto the mattress.
Closing the gap that had opened between them, Tim took the opportunity to tangle one of his hands back into Martin’s thick curls again and pulled. Martin let out another involuntary gasp at being manhandled, but the reddish tinge colouring his cheeks indicated that he didn’t mind it in the slightest. The predatory look on Tim’s face as he looked down hungrily at the man below him made Martin gulp.
“Tell me what you want, Martin,” Tim growled, tightening the grip on the hand in Martin's hair. Martin bit his lip before responding.
“Tim please,” Martin breathed, and Tim brought his other hand to cup the side of Martin's neck. The touch was gentle, a caress compared to the fist balled in his curls, a balance between pleasure and pain. “I just want you.” The confession fell easily from Martin's tongue, something that surprised him. He wasn’t usually confident when it came to admitting things he wanted in the bedroom, but the controlling touch of Tim made it easy. Tim leant down, his lips mere millimetres away from the shell of Martin's ear.
“Prove it,” Tim said, before dipping his head further and pressing a kiss into the hollow juncture just below Martin's jaw. The small whimpering noise that escaped from Martin was endearing, and Tim nipped playfully at the exposed skin. Martin raised his hands and gripped Tims forearms, grounding himself with the touch. He was out of practice, and already becoming mildly overwhelmed by the confidence that Tim gave off. He seemed so sure of his actions, something that Martin rarely felt, especially in this kind of situation. He also didn’t know exactly what Tim wanted him to prove, considering what they had discussed both that night, and when they were first exploring the start of their relationship.
Tim paused his assault on Martin's neck at the slight hesitation, but when Martin moved his hands to the buttons on his shirt, Tim grinned into his neck. “Good boy.” The words were a surprise to the both of them, but the way that Martin reacted to them was all the encouragement Tim needed to continue. It wasn’t something he usually gave much thought to, but Martin had practically glowed at the praise, and it became something that Tim wanted to explore in their time together. He swatted Martin's hands away from where they were currently fumbling with his buttons, and made quick work of removing first his own shirt, and then Martin’s. Martin could feel Tim’s gaze on him, and he blushed under the attention, something that Tim catalogued for future reference. He pushed Martin's shoulders again so that he fell backwards and motioned for him to scoot up towards the pillows. Martin did, and Tim followed suit, throwing a leg over Martin’s and effectively straddling him, before he lowered himself so he was resting on his forearms, bracketing Martin's head.
Martin reached to wrap his arms around Tim’s neck, but the motion was stopped by Tim grabbing a hold of one of Martin’s wrists. Despite their similar size, Tim had the edge on strength and pinned Martin's hand above his head. He motioned for Martin to place his other hand with the first, before wrapping a hand around both wrists to hold them together. The flush that blossomed across the blondes cheeks was all Tim needed to confirm his earlier suspicions and their discussions. Martin responded well to being manhandled in the bedroom, and Tim was nothing if not a gentleman when it came to looking after his partners. Ducking his head, he nipped lightly a Martins earlobe before growling into his ear.
“Who do you belong to?” The question dragged a small pleased whimper from Martin, who tried in vain to free his arms from where they were pinned. Tim tightened his grip, and pushed Martin’s wrists further into the mattress. “Say it.” Martin's eyes locked onto Tim’s; into the smouldering depths of swirling hazel. If Martin had thought Tim’s gazes were intense before, they had nothing on that moment.
“You, Tim,” Martin sighed wistfully, causing Tim to smirk. “I’m yours.” The statement - given so freely and honestly resonated somewhere deep within Tim. He pressed an open mouthed kiss to the underside of Martin’s jaw, biting at the sensitive skin and sucking a bruise to the fair surface. Martin arched upwards at the sensation, his hips seeking the contact that Tim was only just withholding by hovering above him. Martin could feel Tim’s stubble scratching lightly as he continued to leave a series of bruises leading down his neck and along his collarbone.
“Damn right you are,” Tim replied, moving his mouth further down Martin’s chest. He used his free hand to skim lightly down Martin’s stomach, and towards the button of Martin’s trousers. He paused briefly, giving Martin every opportunity to stop him, but when he received the smallest of nods and the rising of hips towards his waiting fingers, he could do nothing but oblige the silent request. He made quick work of the button and zipper, sliding his hand into the space he created and palming Martin through the fabric of his boxers. Martin groaned, and Tim swallowed the noise with a messy kiss, as he continued to lazily stroke Martin to full hardness. He could feel his own arousal building, and reluctantly pulled back from his position, pulling both Martin’s trousers and underwear with him as he retreated. Martin sat up on his elbows, watching as Tim pushed down the remainder of his own clothing.
There was nothing flattering about stepping out of his trousers, but Tim could feel Martin watching him with a burning intensity, before he returned to the bed, this time situating himself between Martin’s open legs.
“Where were we,” he asked, one hand sliding up Martin’s thigh, the other fisting around his cock. He gave it a few experimental strokes, before dipping his head and licking a stripe up the underside of the shaft and sucking the tip into his mouth. Martin let out the smallest of sounds, and gripped the sheets to try and control himself. Tim reached his free hand up blindly, and Martin took it, interlacing their fingers and grounding himself through the contact. It surprised him greatly when Tim took him down to the base, and he could feel the tip of Tim’s nose pressed against his stomach.
“Fuck,” Martin groaned, tightening his hand around Tim’s in an attempt not to thrust up into the warmth of his mouth. “Careful, Tim.” The words came as warning when Tim repeated his actions once more before pulling off with a wet pop. He nuzzled the soft hair of Martin’s thigh, before biting down. Martin yelped in surprise, which made Tim chuckle. Pulling his hand free, Tim gripped Martin’s hips and flipped him over without ceremony.
“Tonight, you’re mine,” Tim said, his fingernails digging in enough to leave small, crescent marks on Martin’s hips.
It wasn’t long before Martin was groaning into the pillow as Tim thrust hard into him. The pace Tim had set was relentless, and Martin was fisting his hands into the sheets again to try and ground himself. Tim had one hand holding his hip, and the other one on his shoulder, pressing it down to keep him partially pinned against the mattress. Despite his relatively trapped nature, Martin rocked his hips back in time with Tim’s movements, which caused Tim to now bottom out inside of him. The increase in fullness inside him made Martin moan again, and he could feel the tightening of Tim’s fingers on his hip. They were now pressing almost hard enough to bruise, and along with the fingernail marks, Martin couldn’t help but feel excited about the thought of having a lingering reminder of their time together.
“Fuck, Martin,” Tim gasped, coherent thought having long since escaped his head.
Through the pleasure fuelled haze, Martin let out a small breathless chuckle. “I’d say you already were.” This earned him a sharp smack on his ass in between Tim’s thrusts. A shocked inhale caught in Martin’s throat and his breath hitched. Tim repeated the action to see the result, and was pleased to see that where Martin’s profile was visible, a strong blush of shame coloured his cheeks.
“Oh you like that?” Tim questioned, slowing his momentum enough to allow Martin to answer. For a moment Martin was still, before he gave a small nod; the movement jerky and it caused him to flush more. “You like someone to be rough with you?” The question was rhetorical, and Tim was surprised by the answer that Martin supplied.
“Yes, daddy.” They both froze, Martin with his eyes closed so as not to see Tim’s reaction, and Tim with his eyes blown wide in unexpected desire. Martin could feel his skin prickling with shame that the word had fallen so easily from his lips. It was a side of him that he didn’t need the rest of the Institute staff seeing, and now that he had dropped his guard in front of Tim, he was never going to live it down.
“Is that what you want, Martin?” Tim asked, moving his hips slowly, but not allowing the other man to move away from him.
“ Yes,” Martin whispered. Though his face was still pressed into the pillow and the word was barely audible, Tim caught it anyway.
“In that case,” Tim began almost conversationally, pulling out almost entirely before thrusting back in with full force. “I’m gonna be your daddy.” Martin choked back a sob of relief, that not only had Tim not laughed at him about it, but he had rolled with it.
“Please,” Martin begged.
Tim stopped his movements. “Please what, Martin?” The tone of his voice was lower, darker.
“Daddy. Please daddy.”
“Good boy.” Martin could feel the tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, and he bit his lip as he allowed his body to be rocked by each of Tim’s thrusts. “Do you know what good boys get?” Martin shook his head, before he felt Tim's hand move from his hip and round to his cock, taking him in hand. “Good boys get to let go.” It took an embarrassingly short time for Martin to come, gasping Tim’s name into the pillow. Tim wasn’t far behind him, the tightening of Martin’s muscles around him was enough to push him over the edge.
“Holy shit, Tim,” Martin said as Tim pulled out and removed the condom, tying a knot in the end and tossing it in the direction of the bin in the corner of the room. He collapsed onto the mattress next to Martin, opening his arms to invite the other man into a warm, albeit somewhat sweaty embrace. Martin went easily, resting his head on Tim’s shoulder and draping an arm over his chest.
“So, daddy, huh?” Tim asked, looking down at where Martin was blushing furiously and studiously avoiding eye contact.
“I don’t - “ Martin began before he was cut off.
“I liked it,” Tim said, pressing a kiss to the top of Martin’s head. “Didn’t realise I would, but I did.”
Martin grinned, hiding his face as best he could. “Thank you.” His statement was punctuated with a yawn.
“A nap sounds like an excellent idea, but first, I think we better get cleaned up.” Martin groaned at Tim’s practicality, before rolling off the bed, narrowly avoiding his wet patch, and heading towards the bathroom.
Tim looked up at Martin from where he currently had his arms crossed over Martin’s stomach. Martin was propped up against the pillows, the pretense of reading long since forgotten in favour of watching Tim, who until only a few minutes ago had been peacefully napping, using Martin’s stomach as a pillow.
“Morning,” Martin chuckled, as Tim blinked blearily in a feeble attempt to wake himself up.
Tim glanced over to the closed curtains to see that no light was filtering through. “What time is it?” he mumbled, his voice rumbling and thick with sleep.
“A little after 11,” Martin replied, folding over the corner of his book and finally allowing it to fall closed.
“11 in the morning?” The shock was enough to jolt Tim more awake, though he hadn’t made a move other than to prop his chin on his folded hands.
Martin laughed for real this time, his eyes softening as he looked down at Tim. “No Tim. 11 at night. I’m sorry if I confused you.” His voice was fond, and Tim felt himself melt again back into the embrace of warmth under the duvet that was draped over his shoulders.
“No apology necessary,” Tim replied, watching Martin through his eyelashes. “Though I should probably start making a move if I want to catch the last tube.”
Martin reached down and wrapped his hand around Tim’s wrist. “You don’t have to go.”
Tim had begun to sit up, but Martin’s words had stopped him in place with his weight propped up on his hands. “What are you saying, Martin?”
Martin closed his eyes briefly before responding. “I’m asking you to stay. That is, if you want to of course. I wouldn’t want you to feel like you had to obviously, if you have other plans. I mean, I don’t know what plans you’d have at this time of night but I guess there might be something. Or in the morning, you probably go to the gym on a Sat…” Martin’s rambling was cut off by Tim leaning forward on his hands and kissing him.
“Martin. There is nowhere else I would rather be right now.”