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Jon’s knees bracketing his hips, Martin groaned into the kiss, clutching the back of Jon’s too-big jumper.
“Something wrong?” Jon said, pulling away and landing on his haunches, hands slipping out of Martin’s hair to rest on his chest.
“No – nothing’s wrong, necessarily?” Martin said, statement ending in a question, as was typical. He rested his hands lightly on Jon’s hips, over-careful, as if Jon might break if he held him too tight. “I don’t know, it’s just – ugh! I don’t know, alright?”
Jon frowned, that adorable wrinkle between his eyebrows popping back into existence. “Okay. Well,” he said, pausing to think. “I’m not sure how to proceed here. I think I need a little more information from you.”
Martin’s hands left Jon’s hips then, slapping over his face as he tilted his head back and screamed at the ceiling. “Okay. Okay, okay. Jon, it’s just – if we keep kissing like this, I’m going to… have to. Well. You know?”
Jon stared dumbly for just a moment before realization crossed over his face. “Oh. Well, that’s fine, you know.”
Martin looked dumbfounded for a second, wholeheartedly believing that Jon was lying to his face. He’d just assumed workplace rumors were true, and knowing Jon, it felt like a fair assumption. He just didn’t seem like someone that… did that sort of thing. Though, he supposed, it was better for him to actually get the truth from Jon, rather than operate on hearsay that had spread through the Institute like wildfire.
“I didn’t think you… did that,” he said, finally, after a too-long moment of staring.
“I don’t, not really. I’ve really no interest in actually having sex, but I can’t fault you for being aroused,” Jon said, clinical. “I take it as a compliment, really.”
Martin flushed red, covering his face with his hands again. If he were being honest with himself, he’d felt himself getting wet the second Jon’s thin fingers traced the nape of his neck, toying gently with his curls. It had been a long, long time since anyone had touched him at all, let alone with the tender, delicate intimacy that Jon touched him with.
The first time they had touched in a way that could be considered intimate had been on the train ride up, Jon leaning his tired head on his shoulder, sighing as he interlocked their hands, his scarred hand rough against Martin’s callused palm. Martin had leaned his head on top of Jon’s in return, and despite everything, delighted in the casual warmness of it. For the first time in his life, he felt the tenderness he’d always longed for.
That was just the first of many intimate touches, some as casual as a hand brushing a shoulder or elbow, some as heavy as where they’d started tonight, Jon creeping closer and closer to Martin, eventually climbing atop him and slowly, surely, kissing every inch of exposed skin. He was so thorough, so careful with Martin. Martin felt the touch hunger shatter with each brush of Jon’s lips against his, feeling fuller and fuller as Jon’s hands roved over his chest and back and hair and every part of him he could reach.
“Oh. Well,” Martin said, hands settling back on Jon’s. “If you’re not interested in – sex, which is totally fine, by the way!” He stammered out, alarm crossing his features for a moment. “What exactly, erm, are you interested in?”
Jon chuckled at that, bowing his head down, his hair falling over his face. He swept it behind his ears as he looked back at Martin. “I want you to feel good,” he said, serious. “Whatever that means for you, that is, that doesn’t entail me really – participating. It’s been common for my partners to pleasure themselves while I watch. Sometimes kissing, sometimes ignoring them entirely. It really depends on the person,” he trailed off, lost in thought. “I can’t imagine you’d like me ignoring you.”
Martin brushed off the little pang of jealousy at the idea of Jon’s previous partners, keeping his eye on the prize, so to speak. “Wow, that’s – okay. Well.”
“I can tell you’re at a bit of a loss here, that’s alright,” Jon said, moving off of Martin’s lap and into the floor at Martin’s feet. “What do you want me to do?”
A thousand lewd images flashed through Martin’s mind, and he shook them away, focusing on the here and now. “I don’t know! This is a lot of pressure, you know.”
“It doesn’t have to be. I’m open to a lot more than you’d think,” Jon said, resting his chin on Martin’s knee and wrapping a hand around his calf, casual and warm. “I dated someone once that liked to grind on my knee. That’s another option.”
“I’d crush you!” Martin spluttered, leaning down closer to Jon.
“I assure you, you would not. They were built similarly, and anyways. I’m not as frail as I look.”
Martin made a jumbled up babbling noise, before ultimately sighing. “That could be worth a shot. I’m willing to try anything once.”
“That’s the spirit,” Jon said, heaving himself out of the floor, knees and ankles cracking simultaneously, making both him and Martin giggle. “Shall we stay here, or move to the bedroom?”
Martin thought for a moment. There was more space on the bed, yes, but Daisy’s mattress was rock-solid. The couch, though smaller, was, albeit well-loved, plush and soft.
“Here’s good, methinks. Softer,” he said.
“I love that you just said ‘methinks,’” Jon said, sitting beside Martin and leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Now, to get all of it out of the way, I will be staying fully clothed, though you can undress to whichever level is most comfortable for you. I have no problems kissing or stroking skin above the belt, but anything below is a no go. I do not need, nor do I want, reciprocation. Anything unclear?”
“I think I’ve got it,” Martin said, nodding. “God, I don’t even know how much I want to undress.”
“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”
Martin knew he meant it, and hearing that was the most reassuring thing of the whole night. He loved Jon, though, trusted him, so he decided that he would at least lose his jumper and trousers. He moved to take his jumper off then, leaving him sitting in his worn sports bra that had earned the title of favorite. It was a treat purchase years ago, the result of hours of googling trying to find the best brand and awkward and difficult self-measuring. When it was new, it’d done a bang-up job compressing his chest, but over the years, it’d become looser and looser, but he kept wearing it, both as a display of frugality, and pure forgetfulness and laziness. Around the time it’d stopped doing quite such a good job, he’d started drowning in jumpers anyways, so it wasn’t really necessary.
It was almost as if a sparkle went through Jon’s eyes.
“You look lovely, Martin,” he murmured, shifting to face him entirely and tracing the curves of his stomach with his hand. “Absolutely lovely.”
Martin didn’t think he could flush any darker, but here Jon was, proving him wrong again. “Oh, really,” he spluttered. “it’s nothing.”
“Not nothing,” Jon murmured, quiet.
With that, Martin stood up and shimmied out of his most comfortable joggers, leaving him there, awkward, in bra and boxer briefs. He cursed himself for wearing light blue pants, because, looking down, he could see the edges of a wet patch where his thighs met. He slapped a hand over his face, his glasses going slightly askew.
“Don’t be embarrassed, dear,” Jon said, settling into the couch and spreading his legs apart. “And come here.”
Martin crept forward, cautious, and slowly settled over Jon’s left leg, knees on either side, gasping softly at the near direct contact.
“There you are, that’s it,” Jon murmured, running his hands up Martin’s side. “Now, I have to ask, what sorts of things do you want to hear out of me? Degradation, praise, nothing at all?”
“Praise,” Martin said, almost too quick, he thought, after the fact. “Definitely praise.”
“I assumed as much, but I couldn’t be too sure,” Jon said, smiling. “Here we are, then. Do what you will.”
Shy, Martin half rolled his hips, another small gasp leaving his lips. “You know, I haven’t had sex with anyone since I was 23. Haven’t even had an orgasm in, I don’t know, probably a year?”
“A year?” Jon asked, dumbfounded, continuing to scratch lightly up and down Martin’s sides. “Even I have to have one, I don’t know, every month or so?”
“Well, you know how it is. The Lonely, and all that,” Martin said, slowly but surely finding a rhythm. “Actually, let’s not talk about that right now.”
“You’re so right,” Jon said, smiling. “You’re doing so well. I know you’re nervous.”
Martin nodded, eyes shut. He leaned his head down to meet Jon’s, a shaky, shuttered moan falling from his lips.
“That’s it, you can make noise for me, sweet,” Jon murmured. “I want to hear you.”
Martin gasped at that, mouth falling open and staying that way. He found a particularly good movement and repeated it, perfect pressure on his aching cock, and he moaned again, a bitten off, squeaky thing.
“Such pretty sounds,” Jon said, hushed. “Fucking yourself on my knee, you’re doing such a good job.”
Hearing something as lewd as that come out of Jon’s mouth only spurred Martin on, and he pushed himself into a kiss, frantically slotting their lips together, spit slick. He could feel how wet he’d gotten just in how his pants clung to his cunt and inner thighs, sure he was leaving a massive spot on Jon’s nice corduroys. He didn’t much care though, still rocking steady on Jon’s knee, whimpering into his mouth.
It was only a short while longer before he stopped abruptly, pulling out of the kiss and standing up.
“Whoa, what’s the matter?” Jon asked, moving to stand beside him.
“No, no no,” Martin stammered, waving Jon back. “I just – I can’t have the barrier anymore, I need to – be right on your leg.” With that, he shimmied out of his pants, revealing the thatch of curly ginger-blond hair, glistening with smeared slick, and he resumed his position.
“So gorgeous,” Jon said, hands finding steady purchase on Martin’s hips, nails digging gently into the flesh. “So, so good for me.”
Just as quick as he’d gotten up, Martin had fallen back into the same rhythm as before, heightened now with the new closeness, only bettered by the slight texture provided by Jon’s trousers. Moving quicker, his small noises increased in volume and frequency, and his hands formed a claw grip on the hem of Jon’s jumper.
“Hey, hey,” Jon said then, hushed. “Look at me, alright? Look at me.”
In such a vulnerable state, no idea was more mortifying. Martin knew without looking that Jon’s eyes were wide open, focused, drinking him in. Yet, those eyes were safe. They looked at him with adoration, with rapture, and he knew that he had no real reason to be scared.
Looking up, staring into Jon’s eyes, he came near immediately, fighting to keep his eyes open, refusing to shrink in on himself as he rode it out, making more noise than he thought he was capable of.
“That’s it, so perfect, so good,” Jon spoke, words falling from his mouth with increasing frequency. “My darling, my sweet boy, my perfect Martin. So good.”
Hips slowing to an eventual stop, Martin babbled in response to Jon’s praise, mostly nonsense. “I’m yours, I’m good for you, I’ll always be good for you,” he said, practically whispering.
When he finally stilled, Jon pressed a single, solemn kiss to his forehead, and he could feel him smiling.
He cleared his throat then, awkward again. “That was,” he trailed off. “Good. Thank you.”
“Of course, Martin,” Jon said. “You’re not going to like what I have to say next, though.”
Martin felt a pit form in his stomach. What had he done?
“You’ve got to get up,” Jon said, patting Martin’s thighs. “Your knees are going to be shrieking in terror tomorrow if you don’t stretch out at least a little.”
“Jon! I thought it was so much worse, like ‘Martin, you’ve broken one of my ribs,’ or something!” Martin exclaimed, scrambling off Jon’s lap. “Don’t scare me like that!”
“That is not what I sound like.”
“Oh, it absolutely is,” Martin retorted from where he was bent over, stretching his back. “Good idea on the stretching, though. I’m already sore.”
“I suppose I should have warned you prior. You had a good time, though.”
“Yes, I did. Are you alright?”
“Hm? Oh, yes, I’m perfectly fine. I have no problems participating to that extent, especially if it helps you.”
“That’s…” Martin trailed off again. “Good to know.”
Jon smiled, a small, delicate thing, and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “Now then, let’s get cleaned up and into some fresh clothes, and watch one of the same tapes we’ve watched eight times already until we fall asleep.”
“Sounds perfect, love.”