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Martin panted into Jon’s shoulder as Jon’s fingers ran through his hair. Jon’s touch was feather-light, tugging gently, tracing down his bare back. Jon’s stare was just as piercing as it had always been, and Martin could feel it rake across his body like hot coals, taking in every minute detail of his debauched state, recording it, archiving it. The flush of his cheeks, his spread legs, his bare skin, the way he hunched around Jon, kneeling between his thighs, his achingly hard cock, the beads of precome slowly dripping down.
Jon’s voice was as tender as his touch. “I really do this to you?” He murmured into Martin’s ear, breath puffing across his skin. Martin shivered and stroked his cock with the arm not wrapped around Jon’s waist. “How often would you do this while thinking of me?”
“Too often,” Martin said into Jon’s skin, like it would somehow make the confession lesser. “I’d dream of you, and make up hard, and have to take care of it before work.” Jon hummed in approval, and Martin continued. “I- I’d sometimes have to take care of it during work. Sneak off to the bathrooms.”
Jon huffed, carefully restrained laughter. “I never noticed.”
“You usually didn’t look at me after you scolded me,” Martin admitted, face flushing darker.
“That’s what gets you going?”
“No.” Martin fucked his hips slowly into his hand. “You, you’d give me all your attention, and really look at me. You were just so intense, and I felt like you could see everything…”
Jon pressed a soft kiss to the side of his head. “Well, I certainly do now,” he said, voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re beautiful like this. It’s a shame I never looked harder before.”
Martin shuddered, and he knew Jon saw his cock twitch. Jon ran his nails lightly down his back.
“What did you think about?”
“You,” Martin breathed. “I- I’d think about you telling me to get on my knees, use my moth for something more- ah- useful.” He pictured it, Jon rising from his chair and walking around the desk, pushing Martin down. Images of Jon layered in his mind- Jon with scar-mottled skin and a loving gaze flickering to his younger counterpart, staring down at him imperiously. “You’d lean against your desk, and I wouldn’t be allowed to touch myself until you came.” He gave his cock a particularly hard tug. “Or you’d notice me get hard and tell me to fuck you, help you out with something at least, and I’d push you down against your desk…” Jon’s arms would wrap around his neck like they did now, and his legs would lock around his hips, and he’d fuck Jon nice and slow. The fantasy wasn’t realistic- would never happen, with Jon’s preferences- but he could savor it, the idea of building Jon up to a climax, Jon pulling him closer and gasping his name, and Martin would hold him tenderly as he fucked him through it, would hold him afterwords…
Jon gently lifted his chin to press a kiss to his lips, cupped his jaw like Martin was a treasure. “I wish I saw,” he said, voice quiet next to Martin’s ears. “I would’ve loved to watch. I love seeing you like this, coming undone for me…” Martin bit his lip as tension coiled in his gut, and his movements became quicker, more desperate. Jon pulled him closer to his chest, held Martin’s body against his. “Someday I want to see you kneeling for me, desperate, looking up at me as you desperately try to get off.” The words buzzed against Martin’s skin, sinking under and flaring with heat. “Someday, a day when I’m comfortable, I want to see you get off on me. I want to feel your cock against me, how desperate you are…”
Martin moaned, bucked his hips into his fist. “Jon, I’m so close, please…”
“I want to see you,” Jon said. “I want to see your face as you come for me, I want to see you tremble, lose control for me, I’ve got you, Martin…”
Martin pressed himself into Jon, movements speeding as he desperately chased orgasm. With every word, he felt it build, get closer, closer…
Jon pulled his fingers through Martin’s hair. “Come for me,” he hissed, voice laced with static. Martin cried out into Jon’s neck as he obeyed, hips jerking forward. His mind went blank, consumed with pleasure and the smell of Jon’s skin as he pressed himself forward into Jon’s warmth.
When he came to, Jon was stroking his hair, murmuring quiet praise. Martin’s eyes fluttered open, and he nuzzled into Jon’s neck. He was content, for a few minutes, to simply curl around Jon as he basked in the afterglow.
Jon shifted, and Martin grumbled as Jon’s shoulder bumped rudely against his head. He cracked open an eye to see Jon run a hand along his own stomach, where Martin realized, in a sudden rush of embarrassment, his come was splattered against Jon’s skin.
“Fuck, Jon, I’m sorry,” He said as he pulled away. “Hold on, I’ll clean it up-”
Martin was very quickly silenced when Jon lifted one of his fingers to his mouth and licked it. Despite having only recently came, heat curled in his stomach at the sight. Jon hummed, looking down at his fingers consideringly. “Not exactly a pleasant taste,” he mumbled to himself. “Fishy.”
“...fishy?”
“More bitter,” Jon informed him, and moved to wipe his hand against the sheets, before realizing how much that would stain and wrinkling his nose. After another moment of thought, he raised his fingers to his lips once more. Martin’s eyes fixed on Jon’s tongue swiping across his fingers, licking off Martin’s cum. The knuckle he stuck in his mouth did nothing to muffle the strangled noise that emerged from Martin’s throat.
Jon glanced up, gaze resting heavily on Martin as he licked the final drops off. Martin could only hold his breath as Jon slid out of bed and gestured for Martin to follow. When Martin tried to follow, Jon pressed a hand to his chest and shook his head, leaving Martin’s legs hanging off the mattress. Jon straddled one of Martin’s legs, and he realized with a shock that Jon’s boxers were soaked.
“You had a bit more of an effect on me than I anticipated,” Jon admitted quietly, glancing up to meet Martin’s gaze. “Is this- alright?”
Martin’s mouth was dry as he nodded. “God- yes, please. Don’t-” He licked his lips. “Don’t want to leave you hanging.”
Jon snorted, and smiled softly. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” Martin’s head spun as he watched Jon’s hips slowly grind down against Martin’s leg. Jon’s eyes fluttered closed for the first time since they began, head tilting forward. He braced his hands on Martin’s shoulders as he rocked his hips, each movement careful. Martin reached foreword and hesitantly rested his hands on Jon’s hips, pulling him down harder. Jon’s face scrunched as he increased his energy to match Martin, breath steadily getting heavier. Martin stroked the skin of Jon’s hips lightly, encouraging Jon to grind down harder, to rock faster, transfixed with the sight Jon made- flushed, panting, bare except for his boxers, pressed desperately against Martin’s naked body.
Martin knew that Jon wouldn’t want him to talk, but he had free reign of Jon’s body, pressing kisses to his chest, his scars, stroking Jon’s back and grabbing handfulls of his ass. Jon responded to him with quiet, breathy noises, never much a loud one, and tilted his head back to give Martin more room to simply touch. Jon’s movements sped up steadily until he was desperately thrusting his hips against Martin’s leg, clutching onto Martin for dear life, shuddering under Martin’s hands and lips. And finally, Jon gave a small cry and clung to Martin’s neck, mostly still except for the small half-thrusts of his his as he rose out his orgasm. Martin wrapped his arms around Jon and held him as he caught his breath.
“Th-thank you,” Jon said, sliding off Martin’s lap. Martin made a small sound of disappointment, but he could see the tiredness in Jon’s eyes, feel it as Jon nuzzled his hair. “Let’s get cleaned up?”
Martin smiled. “You can have the bathroom first.”
Jon pressed a kiss to his hair in thanks, and Martin was left waiting for his turn, unfortunately hard again.