Jon is standing on his tip toes, trying to reach flour from the highest shelf, when he feels strong, warm hands touch at his waist. He shivers slightly at the unexpected touch and continues to strain, pushing his body upwards, the tips of his fingers almost brushing against the bag.
The hands move from his waist down to his hips, ghosting over the clothed skin in twirling patterns along the way. Slowly, not enough for a proper sensation, just enough for another shiver to ripple through him, for a faint tingling feeling. Finally, Martin places his hands firmly on Jon’s hips and squeezes. Jon finally gives up, his body beginning to hurt a little from the effort and places his feet both firmly against the floor again. It takes all of his self-restraint not to buck his hips back into warm expanse of Martin’s body behind him.
‘Need a hand?’ Martin asks, tone cheerful. He reaches for the bag with ease even before Jon can respond.
‘Thank you,’ he murmurs instead. He twists a little in Martin’s embrace, moving his hips closer to the edge of the kitchen counter, letting Martin’s big, strong frame trap him there. As much as the position allows him to, he turns around and looks up at Martin, where he’s smiling fondly down at him.
Martin’s body presses up to his almost completely when he leans down to kiss him sweetly and almost innocently on the lips. It contrasts with the feeling of Martin’s half hard cock, pressing up against Jon’s arse with the movement. He lets out a gasp, letting his mouth fall slightly open, and Martin licks inside. His hips start moving slowly against Jon’s body, and he lets himself moan.
‘I think you deserve a little break,’ Martin murmurs against his skin when they part, slightly out of breath. ‘Been working so hard, baking for me all afternoon. How does that sound, love? You take a little break and let me take care of you, hm?’
Jon whimpers. He’s never been particularly vocal during sex; moaning, screaming or uttering a litany of incomprehensible words always seemed a bit weird to him. With Martin, it’s different. Martin has such a way with words, and the way he talks so sweetly and praises him constantly, quite honestly sounding as if Jon was the most wonderful thing in this world and beyond, all of that makes him want Martin to hear him, to know immediately how lovely and good he’s making him feel.
Usually, Martin has him splayed on the bed, hands tracing lines on the sensitive skin, from his stomach to his inner thighs. Martin notices every part of him and shows how much he loves all of him, equally. Manages to choose just the right words to assure Jon he’s being honest. But Jon’s favourite moments are not the long litanies of praise Martin’s so capable of producing on short notice. It’s when he’s losing his grip on his composure, buried deep inside of Jon, lost in sensation, that’s when simple words leave his mouth almost without his permission. So good. Beautiful. Look at you, Jon. All mine. So pretty for me.
That’s what gets Jon the most. He can’t get enough of it.
‘Use your words, sweetheart.’ Martin has moved to kissing the skin of his neck, licking and nibbling just behind his ear. His hips are still rocking against Jon’s arse and he’s fully hard now. Jon realises with a start he’s begun rocking back to meet his small thrusts.
‘Do you want me to take care of you now, Jon?’ Martin repeats.
‘Yes,’ Jon chokes out quickly, trying very hard for it to be loud and audible. ‘Yes, please, been waiting for you, ah, the whole afternoon, Martin, wondering wh—when you were g—going to—ah!’
Martin takes a step back and gently pushes him to rest his elbows on the counter, making him bend down and push his arse out in his direction. This renders Jon almost unable to form any further sentences (Martin loves to tease him about how the great Archivist seems to lose any semblance of coherence so quickly under the touch of his skillful fingers). Martin’s hands quickly find their way under Jon’s long patterned skirt, pushing it up, exposing his legs to the touch. He runs his hands up his thighs, caressing ever so slightly. He’s not teasing, not anymore. Jon has been waiting for this long enough.
They woke up pretty late that day, morning already slowly shifting into early afternoon. When Martin opened his eyes, Jon was beside him, looking at him with a soft smile, head propped on his arm. They were both naked from the night before, tangled close together under warm blankets. Jon leaned down and kissed him sweetly, parting only to whisper a soft please against his skin. Martin suspected what it was he was asking for, and a quick conversation confirmed it. They talked through all the mechanics of sex and relationships when they arrived at the safe house and now, when some time has passed and the awkward phase began to fade away into comfortable mutual understanding, they worked together almost perfectly. Martin knew Jon didn’t really want sex often and it had nothing to do with what he felt for Martin. He was content to give Jon what he needed, whenever he needed.
That was one of those days. They kissed lazily in bed for a while as Martin fingered Jon open, slow and thorough. As Martin got to three fingers, pushing them in and out quicker and quicker, spreading Jon open, the kisses became messier and finally nothing more than just breathing into each other’s mouths. Jon could feel how hard Martin was against his thigh; could feel his hips twitching slightly against him. On his part, he was riding Martin’s fingers as much as the position allowed, chasing his orgasm. He’s never been able to come without a hand on his cock, and Martin refused to provide the additional stimulation so far, leaving Jon moaning, on the verge of release that he couldn’t quite achieve. When Jon felt like maybe he could come after what felt like years of teasing, Martin pulled out his fingers. No amount of whining or begging could make him change his mind and Jon was aware that this was what he asked for, even if it seemed silly in the heat of the moment. Martin had kissed him, partially to shut him up, partially to help him calm down and relax, and soon enough Jon felt the blunt head of the plug press against his hole. It was the biggest one they had (which is to say, the only one; they had to order it online with a bunch of other stuff like lube and dildos and travel two hours on three different buses one way to get to the nearest pick-up point.) Even with thorough preparation, it was still a stretch and it burned quite wonderfully as Martin pressed it into him slowly. Soon enough he felt it reach the limit, leaving him spread wide open during the day, ready for Martin to use whenever he decided it was time. The thought of it made him shiver.
Jon focused on his breathing, steeling himself for the long day ahead, and when he felt composed, he wriggled out of the confines of the blanket and slid down on the bed, taking Martin’s straining cock in his hand. He gave a few tentative licks to the head, relishing in the beautiful sounds Martin was making, the praise that was beginning to leave his parted lips. Emboldened, he took the head fully into his mouth and suckled, making sure to moan low in his throat, sending vibrations right down the length of Martin’s dick. Martin was, whichever way you could choose to put it, well-endowed and it took a lot of prep for Jon to be able to take him. The same applied to blowjobs. Even though Jon was secure in his abilities, Martin’s cock was safest approached slowly and with a lot of patience.
Martin, bless him, was not a very patient person. He was always considerate of his partners, however, which is why he put all of his remaining energy into stilling his hips, allowing only the smallest twitches upwards and into Jon’s hot, wet mouth. His right hand was gripping the discarded blanket tightly, while the left found its way into Jon’s long, soft hair, tugging at it slightly, eliciting more moans from him. Soon enough Jon felt bold enough to start bobbing his head properly, taking more and more of Martin’s length into his mouth, cheeks hollow. It wasn’t long after that – Martin was already riled up from getting Jon ready for the plug. Jon wasn’t even halfway through down his shaft when he freed his hand to pat at his shoulder, giving Jon time to pull off if he needed. Jon remained where he was, throat working around Martin’s cock, and he looked up at him through his eyelashes, daring him to let go. Martin came down his throat with a loud grunt, finally allowing himself to buck up slightly, once, twice, holding Jon’s by the hair in place.
They kissed after that, messy and wanting and giggling a little bit because they were both just so ridiculously happy. And then the day went on, reading, cooking, enjoying each other’s company. It was late afternoon when Jon announced he was going to bake a carrot cake for them. Martin nodded from where he was reading his book. And that was it for a while.
Now, Jon can feel himself trembling with anticipation for what’s to come. He has been shifting the whole day, trying to get any movement, trying to get the plug to rub against something inside him in a way that made his cock twitch with renewed interest. Arousal has been thrumming through his body at a steady level the whole day, peaking at particular shifts of his hips. His surprised little moans were always met with a fond smile and a chuckle from Martin.
He didn’t bother with any pants when dressing that day, which Martin appreciates with a low sound. Jon moves to spread his legs further and steady himself against the counter. His cock is fully hard again, aching, standing out from its hood. Martin pays it no mind, not yet, hands moving to slowly remove the plug from Jon’s arse. Jon hangs his head low and moans loudly at that, feeling his hole stretch again around the widest part of it. Soon enough he hears the click of a cap being opened and then Martin is pressing two fingers into him, stretching him quick and rough, clearly getting impatient on his end as well. He quickly adds a third finger, murmuring praise into Jon’s back. His other hand travels up Jon’s body, sliding under his thin black turtleneck, and he grabs at his flat chest. Jon smirks when he hears his breath hitch, as Martin realises his fingers are met with the soft, delicate lace of a bra and not Jon’s warm, scarred skin.
‘Feeling a little slutty, aren’t you?’ Martin murmurs and his tone is sweet and loving. He picks up the pace of his fingers.
‘Y—yes, and it’s all, ah, all for you, M-martin,’ Jon manages to choke out. At this rate, he won’t be able to form coherent sentences even before Martin puts his cock inside of him.
‘Did it make you hard? During the day, I mean. Knowing something I don’t. Waiting for me to find out. Wondering what I’ll say? Were you thinking about that, love?’
Jon nods fervently, pushing his hips back on Martin’s hand. Martin allows him one more pointed thrust and removes them altogether, stilling his movements. Jon waits, anticipation building in his lower belly; he’s so close to getting what he’s wanted the whole day. He can hear Martin shift beside him, and he realised they're both still fully dressed. Jon's skirt is hiked up, exposing his arse and legs. Martin, he assumes from the sounds, has pulled his black sweatpants down as much as to take his cock out. He's still wearing his jumper. It's something about the urgency of it, the pressing need to chase their release, so strong that they won't even spare a moment to undress properly, to make it to the bedroom. It makes Jon's cock twitch slightly.
Behind him, Martin is slicking himself up, low sounds of pleasure escaping his lips as he touches his sensitive cock. Then Jon feels the blunt tip press against his hole, and he forgets how to breathe properly for a moment, let alone think.
‘Take it off,’ Martin commands. Jon pushes himself up from where he was resting with his elbows on the counter and pulls the turtleneck over his head, leaving his chest exposed.
Martin, head of his dick still only pressing against him, leans forward and touches Jon’s covered chest with both his hands, rubbing at his sensitive nipples through the lace. It makes Jon shift his hips back into him. Martin chuckles, and the intensity of his touch on Jon’s chest doesn’t ease up. Eventually, he takes his hands away.
Jon almost sobs with relief when he feels Martin take his cock in his hand and guide it into his hole with increasing force. It’s a stretch, it always is, and he loves it. Martin goes slow, leaving him time to adjust or to ask him to stop, and soon enough (not nearly fast for Jon) he’s buried all the way inside of him.
Martin begins to rock his hips slowly, pulling out almost completely and pushing back at the same slow pace as before, making sure Jon can take him without pain. Jon’s hands are scratching at the sleek surface of the countertop, looking for some purchase, for something to hold. Suddenly, Martin hoists him upwards by his waist, holding him against his sturdy chest. He allows his hips to snap into Jon quicker, in shorter thrusts, making them both moan.
‘Touch your nipples,’ Martin commands. His voice is lower than usual, breathier. ‘Go on, rub them through the lace for me. I’m taking notice, you see, just like you clearly wanted me to.’
At this point, Jon is sure he could and would do anything Martin asked of him if it meant he could come. He brings his hands to his chest quickly, rubbing at his stiff nipples through the material of his bra. He moans at the additional sensation, but it still isn’t the one he really wants, the one he truly needs.
Martin is stilling his hips, still buried inside of him to the hilt, and Jon whines high in his throat, trying to push himself back on his cock, ride him somehow, but Martin puts his big hands on his hips, preventing any further movement. Leaving just one hand there, he reaches out for something with the other, and soon enough Jon hears the familiar buzzing of a toy. It’s slick already when Martin brings down to where he’s wet and leaking down his thighs. Jon attempts to sit himself down on the thin shaft of the vibe, which makes Martin chuckle with so much admiration and love. He bends down to place a soft kiss at the nape of Jon’s neck. Then he guides one of his hands down to his hole.
Martin presses the vibe into him slowly, moaning into his skin as it makes him become even tighter than before, the vibrations affecting them both through the thin skin separating Martin’s cock and the toy. He places it there, set on a medium setting, pulsing in waves, and brings Jon’s hand there, instructing him to hold it inside. Then he mercifully leads Jon’s other hand away from where it was still working at his right nipple and places it just above his cock.
‘Not yet, though,’ he warns. He’s beginning to move his hips again, fucking into Jon slowly. They both shiver with how overwhelming, how good the sensation is. ‘When I tell you to.’
Jon feels dizzy with it, with the enormity of his desire, how much he wants Martin to make him come, and with how Martin’s solely the only reason he’s standing upright anymore. Being held up like this, completely at his mercy, and stuffed completely full has Jon reaching sensations and feelings he’s sure he’s never experienced before. Each drag of Martin’s cock inside of his arse stirs the vibrator in him. With what seems like the last of his strength, he crooks his wrist and begins to move the vibe in and out of himself, matching Martin’s pace.
Martin doesn’t reprimand him for this obvious violation of his authority, mainly because he’s close and it feels fucking amazing. He’s snapping his hips in quick, sharp thrusts now, skin slapping loudly against skin. He wonders briefly if Jon could come like this, filled to the brim with him and the toy, just from the sensation alone, but that’s a theory he can test some other time.
For now, he presses his body more into Jon’s and whispers into his hair, ‘C’mon, now, Jon. Touch yourself, sweetheart. Make yourself come on my cock.’
Jon doesn’t have to be told twice. He stills the movement of his hand on the vibe, making them both moan, but still keeping it in place, buried deep inside of him, providing pressure on Martin’s cock. Martin’s free hand moves to replace Jon’s, which up to this point has been resting on his navel, just above where the thatch of wiry black hair begins. Two events coincide: Jon clenches hard on his cock once he gets his hand to rub at his own, making Martin’s hips stutter and a curse escape his lips. The other thing is that Martin can faintly feel the outline of himself through Jon’s stomach, holding where Jon’s hand was just a moment ago. These sensations combined make him lose the last of his self-restraint and he bucks his hips wildly into Jon once, twice, before burying himself to the hilt, hand pressing on Jon’s stomach to feel it properly, coming in long, pulsing waves.
He tries to fuck Jon through it, still thrusting shallowly, riding his own orgasm out, when Jon clenches down on him, making it near impossible to move at all. He almost screams as he comes, high-pitched and hoarse, pushing his hips back, hand working furiously on his cock. It goes on longer than it usually does, which Martin finds incredibly hot, still fascinated and petting at the space where he can feel his cock inside of Jon.
Jon slumps down on the counter, letting the gravity do its job. Unsupported, the vibe slides right out of him and thumps to the floor, still buzzing loudly. Martin suppresses a laugh, easing his own softening cock out. A slight dribble of come follows, spilling slowly from Jon’s stretched out hole.
Martin leans down to kiss alongside the pronounced line of his spine, his hands rubbing soothing circles on Jon’s back. He helps him turn around slowly when it feels like Jon has caught his breath again, murmuring sweet nothings, assuring him how lovely he is, how well he’s done. Jon gives him a hazy smile and as he attempts to take a step, his knees buckle. Martin properly laughs at that, without any malice, lovingly, and swoops him up and into his arms bridal style in one swift motion. Jon’s hands wrap around his neck and he buries his face into his shoulder.
‘Thank you,’ he whispers. ‘It was really good.’
‘’m glad, my love,’ Martin replies, carrying him towards the bathroom. A warm bath with bubbles is in order for both of them.
‘Thank you,’ Jon repeats, so sincere, and Martin giggles. ‘Don’t laugh. Or, well. Do as you want.’
A moment of silence as he’s being sat on the edge of the bathtub. Martin puts the cork in and lets the water flow, checks the temperature.
‘I love you,’ Jon says then, slowly and sweetly, as Martin debates between lavender or rose scent for the night.
‘Love you, too, sweetheart,’ he replies. He’s never been happier. ‘Now let’s get this off, shall we?’