[ the extra work time is more than worth it, truth be told. martin wouldn't ever say otherwise. he also wouldn't dare to breathe it aloud either. it's a lot. lie ins are worth it just for this, however, when he can get them. usually he's sleepier than this, though, typically he just accepts it for what it is and doesn't ask any questions. he'd have turned back, rolled over to sleep again if his heart hadn't been set to racing accidentally.
and that's fine too. it's fine in the end.
especially when jon is kissing him back in the sleepy, at peace way he does, almost unbelievable in comparison to how he is in the archives, posturing authoritative, but gruff. he's assignments and tapes and casefiles all stacked in his arms and bags around his eyes and wrinkles on his forehead for years. martin can't say he isn't fond of both sides of the figurative coin that is jon.
martin's mouth twitches a little bit, but his eyes are fond, a sleepy sort of fond as he laughs just a little bit at the remark. ]
Least now I can say I've seen it first hand.
[ jon's hand is warm against his hip and he sighs, pressing his leg forward to tangle them further together. the spur of his ankle brushes up jon's shin almost slyly. ]
[ as they continue to shift and settle around each other, gentle, easy-going fidgeting between the sheets, jon forgets everything else outside of this room for a little while. he has the kind of mind that never lets him forget anything for too long, the kind of mind that picks over minute details obsessively and wildly if given half the chance, but martin is a sweet sort of kindness in his life. he gives jon moments that he never looked for or sought out, and it makes it all feel strangely natural.
his tone starts off flat. ]
Don't be absurd, Martin.
[ is
is that a small smirk
is it a smirk (yes, it is) ]
No one would believe you if you told them.
[ a portion of hell must be freezing over, or maybe that sunday morning feeling is really making its impressions on jon. another kiss, this one a little heavier, with more intent behind it, though it's more the weight of ... feeling, rather than action. like it's the only kind of way he can let martin know that it's there. ]
Got everyone fooled into thinking you're a real heartless workaholic, don't you?
[ martin says it with conviction and also half a laugh, feeling the warmth of jon's mouth bear down on him, meaningfully. he tugs just a bit, pulls his direction until fall fully back into the bed. he can taste the little remnants of that smirk on jon's lips, enough that he kisses back a little harder just to wipe it off of his face. he frees himself a little bit to slide his other leg along his hip, to pull him on top of him beneath the sheets until they are flush, chest to chest, limbs half a tangle.
hell is definitely freezing over and martin can't possibly give a damn. ]
Except me.
[ his hands press upwards, cupping the warmth of jon's jaw, the raze of stubble having already made his mouth raw from the night before, now just grazing all along the very same path. martin presses hungrily against him, mouth and body completely. of course he intends to sleep in some more, but not without a few more kisses before then. ]
Fooled? They came to it of their own conclusions, [ he protests; contrary to belief, he is not heartless, he is merely... tough, in some respects. a workaholic, certainly, but there's no saying that one cannot be a workaholic and still be able to have fun. it simply requires time management. and a desire or reason to have fun, which, admittedly jon hardly went looking for before. ] But it ensures my staff are on their toes around me, so I'd like you to keep this secret, thank you.
[ is he teasing or serious? it's a mystery.
but he hasn't stopped kissing martin in the process, so there you go. it's a good place to be, their chests pressed together, martin's thighs bracketing him comfortably. he knows how rough his jaw must be, but if it isn't deterring martin then it won't deter him either, especially not when he allows his mouth to wander.
he kisses the edge of martin's jaw, the underside of his chin, craning down to find the soft, warm hollow of his neck. the pale skin there rapidly turns what jon thinks is a very becoming shade of pink, from the scratch of his bristly stubble. ]
[ sasha? tim? absolutely. they know just as well as he does.
the bed creaks softly under the shifting weight, and martin settles, tipping his head upwards as jon lets his mouth trail along his throat, the rasp of his jaw bringing him to groan a little and dig his heels in. his fingers drag softly until they catch a little in jon's hair, staying there at the base of his skull, stroking softly where they see fit. the kissing is nice, tender, lazy, and martin sighs contentedly in turn.
the little bit of irritation is sensitive, but not awful, the repeated raze of his stubble becomes especially nice after only a few seconds, enough that martin is pressing a kiss to the crest of his forehead, smoothing hair back. kissing again. and once more.
Yes, it is, [ he growls softly against martin's throat, nipping softly at the sensitive skin he's just been bothering, as though to irritably make a point.
let him live in his fantasy world, martin. let him believe he's your scary boss. at least for like, five minutes.
it's all just so easy, so simple to fall into. it always was, and jon doesn't entirely understand it, but it's perhaps one of the only things in the world he doesn't mind not understanding. it was so easy from the first time martin kissed him, having covered himself in beer and barely allowed jon to finish one of his many rambling sentences. a gear clicked into place, a switch with flicked, and then — this.
lazy, quiet mornings, together.
the kisses move a little, lips grazing the skin just above martin's adam's apple, shifting to the other side to irritate a new patch of skin. sometimes jon fantasises mildly about leaving a little mark, though he knows better than to do so somewhere so obvious. he's not a thoughtless teenager, after all.
perhaps near the collarbone.
jon's teeth scrape very lightly, thoughtfully, against martin's neck once more.
the kisses to his forehead are like a lullaby, obnoxiously sweet in the sense that they are forehead kisses — and while jon certainly doesn't lack for forehead to kiss, well, it's not as though he has had people lining up to lay a few on it in recent years. ]
[ martin occasionally lingers along the line of doubt, that none of this is real, that he's dreamt it up and when he rolls over, he'll be very much alone (not that it matters, he's been alone a long time). but the little bite to collarbone, thoughtful, lingering, makes him whimper, snaps him back at attention because wow. no. it's real. very much so. he's got fingers dug into jon's shoulders, mouth pressing tenderly on his hairline, body itself warmly spread open.
the sensation of jon's mouth scraping down a touch more comes again and he glances a bit. ]
What're you up to down there?
[ it's a totally honest question, one punctuated with a very well-thought-out press of his hips upwards to situate himself against him a bit better (or worse.) his lip catches between his teeth just second after asking, the sensation sending a tremor of sensation along his sides. ]
[ always so full of sounds. it's a constant adventure in finding out what noise martin will make next, what the response will be to jon's attentions and ministrations — in this, martin never disappoints. he smiles, mildly, against martin's skin, pressing a deceptive little kiss to the spot that he just bothered with his teeth.
when martin shifts his hips, it's jon's turn to make a soft noise of surprise and enjoyment. not quite martin's whimper, but a gruff sound of approval, to which he helpfully pushes down and against martin's body in turn. ]
I'm... experimenting.
[ with what? he's not sure how to follow up on that, but he tries to catch martin off guard with another nip to punctuate the sentence. ]
[ jon pushes back and whatever restraint he's been trying to exhibit before comes out with another little sigh, louder. his fingers curl into his hair, into the little wing of his shoulder blade, and he nods. ]
Experime--oh.
[ the pinch of his teeth gets martin to give a half yelp, nothing alarming, but it tapers off into a pitchy noise, palm stroking down his back encouragingly now. the little sting warms over into a pleasant sensation, one that has martin curling his toes a bit. ]
[ jon lathes his tongue over the spot that he bit, turning a fetching shade of pink from his attention. it's the same kind of pink that floods martin’s cheeks when he's at his most breathless, incoherent beneath jon’s hands. ]
Yes, I've noticed.
[ and who is he to ignore such a polite request? the next spot he picks is right next to the first, overlapping very slightly with it. he lingers a little longer, pressing just that little harder with his teeth. if they were supposed to be having a slow and sweet morning together, jon seems to have forgotten all about it. his hips rock slightly against martin’s, slow and effortless.
this time he bites again without waiting for permission or request, dipping under martin’s collarbone and sealing it with a kiss. ]
[ martin forgets what slow and sweet means. never mind drifting back to sleep peacefully, he's too busy focusing on the catch of jon's teeth, how he wants to sink into the warmth of the bed and the pressure laid out on top of him. martin's voice catches between his breaths as jon is rocking their hips together, creating an easy rhythm against the mattress, against martin. ]
Good--
[ is about all he manages, getting fingers back up into jon's hair and leaning down to find his mouth with determination and kiss it dead center, his entire body quivering as he pressing back up on him. a hand reaching down to settle itself along the curve of jon's ass, giving it a firm squeeze, doesn't hurt either. ]
[ it's just so easy. being with martin is easy. for all their differences, they exist well like this, settling around each other in simple, comfortable ways. jon rarely tries to think about it too deeply, or analyse it like he does statements and possible paranormal activities, because this is so far removed from all of that. it's not a supernatural occurrence, it's just a priceless consequence of being human.
he bites along the line of martin’s collar, varying between soft and sharp, but every single time it's loving and eased with a kiss or a lap of his tongue. his body is starting to feel warm all over, his tummy twisting delightfully at the noises that martin makes, the way his body moves.
the kiss is so intoxicating, jon sometimes wishes they never had to stop. the intensity of martin’s mouth sends sparks running up jon’s back, and the hand on his arse makes him growl a little, a low and throaty noise of appreciation. he pushes up into martin’s hand, kissing the plane of martin’s sternum before dragging his teeth against the solid plane of it. ]
[ martin knows the kinds of marks he's going to have thanks to jon later today. they'll be ugly welted things placed just out of the way enough, but in just the right spot for him to feel it against the material of his jumper or button down or t-shirt. if he holds some books just right, he'll feel it rubbing through like the sweetest little set of bruises, and he'll love every moment of it.
he breathes out jon's name as he drags teeth down his sternum, hitches his hips up against his and gets lost in the sensation of it all. it really only brings him to grab even harder onto him, to dig into the cleft of him and press a bit as a reminder of how close he is, how close he could be. and really. jon just... has a nice arse. it's hard not to grab. and he can't grab it at work for very obvious reasons.
so self restraint here is difficult to manage now.
he reaches down with a free hand for jon, taking hold of his cock, heavy in his palm and pulling it up just slightly, flush against his own, enough that when they rut, he can feel the damp from the very tip of the head staining the jut of his hip. and god he loves it. he loves it enough to stretch outwards and languish in the feel of teeth imprinting themselves on his skin. he sighs. ]
Turning into a bit more than just a lie in, hm? [ martin murmurs, a grin that tries to be sly but ends up being shy forming fast on his mouth. ]
ugly things are scribbled and typed on pages in this institute, imprinted and preserved in tape recordings. fascinating things, inexplicably and mad and intoxicating, but so many of them, inherently ugly and painful. martin isn't capable of doing anything that even a cynic like jon could call ugly, and as far as he's concerned, that goes as much for marks that appear on martin's skin by his doing. if you asked, jon would suppose that he could personally do something that would deserve being termed "ugly". he wouldn't be able to say what; he just supposes that he probably could.
his teeth press with affection and interest, leaving behind pink trails, and martin's skin somehow manages to make them look as sweet and gently happy as he is.
martin always get the pressure just right, a perfect push and pull between their bodies. jon marvels at it sometimes, how easily and naturally it seems to come to martin, for all that he is nervous and sometimes careful, sometimes reckless. he makes a rough noise of approval at martin's hand on his cock, obligingly rock into it, again martin's cock, the last little glimmers of morning sleepiness shaking themselves off his body and leaving him feeling electric. the glimmers will come back, in time, but now all jon hears in his head is martin's sighs, his breath, his words. ]
You've something of a particular effect on me, [ he murmurs back, glancing up to catch sight of the smile and finding himself unable to rise to stop from rising up to kiss it. ] The, ah, morning is young. We've time to lie in yet.
[ martin says nothing more than that, hand down and pressing against the both of them. his hand doesn't fit completely around the both of them, but it's enough to keep them steadily rutting up against one another, enough to keep them both rattling in the breath. martin's own devolves into a happy sigh and then a moan he stifles against jon's lips, against his throat, along his shoulder as he leans down to rest his temple against the jut of it.
the rhythm is warm and steady, fast enough to keep itself exciting, all breath and warmth, needed friction as his other hand slides to smooth over jon's chest and takes hold of his other shoulder. he's almost half afraid to meet his eyes. not in a terrible way, but in a way that means he might combust if he does.
that's probably terrible too but.
it's the truth.
martin is hopelessly... hopelessly...
well. he won't say it. just in case. not even to himself. he works his hand over and over again, the thrill warming him from the tips of his toes to his face. every point of contact making his body sing in the hazy morning light warming his back, warming the sheets. every soft sound from him is earnest, needy, blunt nails digging into skin on his free hand, his other hand still tirelessly (debateable) moving over the both of them. ]
[ unfamiliar words and phrases drift idly around jon's head. he wonders, considers, very nearly saying some of them, his mouth open against martin's skin before the words catch in his throat, almost painfully. his brow knits, a brief sign of internal frustration that he turns into a mark of pleasure, groaning roughly as his cock slides against martin's, against his hand. the very best of what they have is found in the fact that they don't really talk about it, they just let it happen. there are no labels or boxes to tick, they simply like to fuck and kiss and share each other's company. which makes it sound so trivial. it isn't. it's important. it makes jon's heart rattle sometimes when he looks at martin, when their eyes meet across a room and everything skips, stops, tumbles.
jon is too.
hopelessly, hopelessly.
the thought falls away, as it always does, buried beneath jon's determination not to think about it, and the sounds, sensations of martin's body beneath his. he ducks his head down into the hollow of martin's shoulder, lowers his entire body so that they are chest to chest with no gaps, the hard ruts of his hips getting harder still as he feels the wetness of martin's cock against his own. a hand sinks down to press against the underside of martin's thigh, push him apart a little bit more, his short, sharp breaths becoming a little choked.
his teeth catch on martin's skin again, tongue lathing over his throat as though to catch the vibrations of his sounds. ]
[ jon pushes him apart a little and martin whimpers in turn. the combination of teeth and fingers and weight of jon and the overwhelmingly flush sensation washing through him is rolling like a gargantuan wave of feeling. he presses his head back into the pillow and arches, hand pumping a little more in earnest now as he is determined to maintain that barely-disjointed movement they both are trying to keep up with, a desperate grind and bump with kisses muffled somewhere in between there.
martin tries at least, lips parted and mouth open and whimpering on jon's cheek, on the jut of his jaw, on his mouth when he surges up to kiss him.
he wants to say something, whisper his name outloud, muffle the words into his thighs, maybe say it around his cock so he'll never have to understand it and martin will feel a feather's weight lighter than before. instead, he sets his lips in a firm line of concentration, arm pumping with a little more determination to bring jon up and over the edge. he reaches with his other hand to clutch at the base of his neck, to pull him as close as he can until he feels that familiar pull in his belly. ]
Jon--
[ it's soft. barely a plea choked out with a long breath. martin digs fingers in, pulls hair, and doesn't really waste much time coming first between the both of them. his head is practically swimming in sensation, and his body follows suit, shuddering as he does so, but hardly slowing his pace down.
don't say it. he's better off not saying it, don't say it. ]
[ what would happen if martin said it? jon doesn't know. he doesn't let himself think about it. he doesn't think about what martin would do if he said it. what they have is so good, but so precarious, because the institute has a tight, absurd grip on them both, because it's a strange and sobering touch of reality in a situation that sometimes seems more dreamlike than anything else to jon. it's so good. he — oh, it's too much to think about. it's safer, more stable this way, surely. unspecified, an unspoken agreement of affection and carnality intertwined perfectly.
he isn't loud, not the way that martin can be, when given the chance. jon is full of heady breaths, exhales that take echoes of sound, reverberating against the curve of martin's neck. too distracted to bite for a long moment, trying to help himself and martin along with the slide of his body between martin's strokes. it's ungainly, but it works, it makes him feel breathless and dizzy because it's martin, because they know each other's bodies so well now. the outlines, the likes and dislikes, the sensitive spots and the way to leave each other stupidly and profoundly speechless.
a soft, almost inaudible yes slips from his lips as martin presses, pulls, comes between their bodies. with something that feels like a herculean amount of strength, he lifts his head to crush their mouths together and swallow the sounds, the shudders, feeling the surge of nearness rising in the pit of his stomach. his mouth parts against martin's, eyes shut, brows furrowed as he joins martin mere moments later.
slowing, shivering like there's a cold breeze in the room, but his body feels like a furnace. almost stubbornly, he keeps rutting against martin, a little gentler now, but doing his level best to draw out his own pleasure that bit longer, and hopefully martin's too.
he could stay like this. with martin, tangled, for... a truly indeterminable and lengthy amount of time, he thinks. ]
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no subject
and that's fine too. it's fine in the end.
especially when jon is kissing him back in the sleepy, at peace way he does, almost unbelievable in comparison to how he is in the archives, posturing authoritative, but gruff. he's assignments and tapes and casefiles all stacked in his arms and bags around his eyes and wrinkles on his forehead for years. martin can't say he isn't fond of both sides of the figurative coin that is jon.
martin's mouth twitches a little bit, but his eyes are fond, a sleepy sort of fond as he laughs just a little bit at the remark. ]
Least now I can say I've seen it first hand.
[ jon's hand is warm against his hip and he sighs, pressing his leg forward to tangle them further together. the spur of his ankle brushes up jon's shin almost slyly. ]
Gonna swear me to secrecy now?
no subject
his tone starts off flat. ]
Don't be absurd, Martin.
[ is
is that a small smirk
is it a smirk (yes, it is) ]
No one would believe you if you told them.
[ a portion of hell must be freezing over, or maybe that sunday morning feeling is really making its impressions on jon. another kiss, this one a little heavier, with more intent behind it, though it's more the weight of ... feeling, rather than action. like it's the only kind of way he can let martin know that it's there. ]
no subject
[ martin says it with conviction and also half a laugh, feeling the warmth of jon's mouth bear down on him, meaningfully. he tugs just a bit, pulls his direction until fall fully back into the bed. he can taste the little remnants of that smirk on jon's lips, enough that he kisses back a little harder just to wipe it off of his face. he frees himself a little bit to slide his other leg along his hip, to pull him on top of him beneath the sheets until they are flush, chest to chest, limbs half a tangle.
hell is definitely freezing over and martin can't possibly give a damn. ]
Except me.
[ his hands press upwards, cupping the warmth of jon's jaw, the raze of stubble having already made his mouth raw from the night before, now just grazing all along the very same path. martin presses hungrily against him, mouth and body completely. of course he intends to sleep in some more, but not without a few more kisses before then. ]
no subject
[ is he teasing or serious? it's a mystery.
but he hasn't stopped kissing martin in the process, so there you go. it's a good place to be, their chests pressed together, martin's thighs bracketing him comfortably. he knows how rough his jaw must be, but if it isn't deterring martin then it won't deter him either, especially not when he allows his mouth to wander.
he kisses the edge of martin's jaw, the underside of his chin, craning down to find the soft, warm hollow of his neck. the pale skin there rapidly turns what jon thinks is a very becoming shade of pink, from the scratch of his bristly stubble. ]
no subject
[ sasha? tim? absolutely. they know just as well as he does.
the bed creaks softly under the shifting weight, and martin settles, tipping his head upwards as jon lets his mouth trail along his throat, the rasp of his jaw bringing him to groan a little and dig his heels in. his fingers drag softly until they catch a little in jon's hair, staying there at the base of his skull, stroking softly where they see fit. the kissing is nice, tender, lazy, and martin sighs contentedly in turn.
the little bit of irritation is sensitive, but not awful, the repeated raze of his stubble becomes especially nice after only a few seconds, enough that martin is pressing a kiss to the crest of his forehead, smoothing hair back. kissing again. and once more.
he could probably do this all morning, really.
he might if you let him.
yikes. ]
no subject
let him live in his fantasy world, martin. let him believe he's your scary boss. at least for like, five minutes.
it's all just so easy, so simple to fall into. it always was, and jon doesn't entirely understand it, but it's perhaps one of the only things in the world he doesn't mind not understanding. it was so easy from the first time martin kissed him, having covered himself in beer and barely allowed jon to finish one of his many rambling sentences. a gear clicked into place, a switch with flicked, and then — this.
lazy, quiet mornings, together.
the kisses move a little, lips grazing the skin just above martin's adam's apple, shifting to the other side to irritate a new patch of skin. sometimes jon fantasises mildly about leaving a little mark, though he knows better than to do so somewhere so obvious. he's not a thoughtless teenager, after all.
perhaps near the collarbone.
jon's teeth scrape very lightly, thoughtfully, against martin's neck once more.
the kisses to his forehead are like a lullaby, obnoxiously sweet in the sense that they are forehead kisses — and while jon certainly doesn't lack for forehead to kiss, well, it's not as though he has had people lining up to lay a few on it in recent years. ]
no subject
the sensation of jon's mouth scraping down a touch more comes again and he glances a bit. ]
What're you up to down there?
[ it's a totally honest question, one punctuated with a very well-thought-out press of his hips upwards to situate himself against him a bit better (or worse.) his lip catches between his teeth just second after asking, the sensation sending a tremor of sensation along his sides. ]
You marking me up?
no subject
when martin shifts his hips, it's jon's turn to make a soft noise of surprise and enjoyment. not quite martin's whimper, but a gruff sound of approval, to which he helpfully pushes down and against martin's body in turn. ]
I'm... experimenting.
[ with what? he's not sure how to follow up on that, but he tries to catch martin off guard with another nip to punctuate the sentence. ]
no subject
Experime--oh.
[ the pinch of his teeth gets martin to give a half yelp, nothing alarming, but it tapers off into a pitchy noise, palm stroking down his back encouragingly now. the little sting warms over into a pleasant sensation, one that has martin curling his toes a bit. ]
Do that again. Do it--I like that...
no subject
Yes, I've noticed.
[ and who is he to ignore such a polite request? the next spot he picks is right next to the first, overlapping very slightly with it. he lingers a little longer, pressing just that little harder with his teeth. if they were supposed to be having a slow and sweet morning together, jon seems to have forgotten all about it. his hips rock slightly against martin’s, slow and effortless.
this time he bites again without waiting for permission or request, dipping under martin’s collarbone and sealing it with a kiss. ]
no subject
Good--
[ is about all he manages, getting fingers back up into jon's hair and leaning down to find his mouth with determination and kiss it dead center, his entire body quivering as he pressing back up on him. a hand reaching down to settle itself along the curve of jon's ass, giving it a firm squeeze, doesn't hurt either. ]
no subject
he bites along the line of martin’s collar, varying between soft and sharp, but every single time it's loving and eased with a kiss or a lap of his tongue. his body is starting to feel warm all over, his tummy twisting delightfully at the noises that martin makes, the way his body moves.
the kiss is so intoxicating, jon sometimes wishes they never had to stop. the intensity of martin’s mouth sends sparks running up jon’s back, and the hand on his arse makes him growl a little, a low and throaty noise of appreciation. he pushes up into martin’s hand, kissing the plane of martin’s sternum before dragging his teeth against the solid plane of it. ]
no subject
he breathes out jon's name as he drags teeth down his sternum, hitches his hips up against his and gets lost in the sensation of it all. it really only brings him to grab even harder onto him, to dig into the cleft of him and press a bit as a reminder of how close he is, how close he could be. and really. jon just... has a nice arse. it's hard not to grab. and he can't grab it at work for very obvious reasons.
so self restraint here is difficult to manage now.
he reaches down with a free hand for jon, taking hold of his cock, heavy in his palm and pulling it up just slightly, flush against his own, enough that when they rut, he can feel the damp from the very tip of the head staining the jut of his hip. and god he loves it. he loves it enough to stretch outwards and languish in the feel of teeth imprinting themselves on his skin. he sighs. ]
Turning into a bit more than just a lie in, hm? [ martin murmurs, a grin that tries to be sly but ends up being shy forming fast on his mouth. ]
no subject
ugly things are scribbled and typed on pages in this institute, imprinted and preserved in tape recordings. fascinating things, inexplicably and mad and intoxicating, but so many of them, inherently ugly and painful. martin isn't capable of doing anything that even a cynic like jon could call ugly, and as far as he's concerned, that goes as much for marks that appear on martin's skin by his doing. if you asked, jon would suppose that he could personally do something that would deserve being termed "ugly". he wouldn't be able to say what; he just supposes that he probably could.
his teeth press with affection and interest, leaving behind pink trails, and martin's skin somehow manages to make them look as sweet and gently happy as he is.
martin always get the pressure just right, a perfect push and pull between their bodies. jon marvels at it sometimes, how easily and naturally it seems to come to martin, for all that he is nervous and sometimes careful, sometimes reckless. he makes a rough noise of approval at martin's hand on his cock, obligingly rock into it, again martin's cock, the last little glimmers of morning sleepiness shaking themselves off his body and leaving him feeling electric. the glimmers will come back, in time, but now all jon hears in his head is martin's sighs, his breath, his words. ]
You've something of a particular effect on me, [ he murmurs back, glancing up to catch sight of the smile and finding himself unable to rise to stop from rising up to kiss it. ] The, ah, morning is young. We've time to lie in yet.
no subject
[ martin says nothing more than that, hand down and pressing against the both of them. his hand doesn't fit completely around the both of them, but it's enough to keep them steadily rutting up against one another, enough to keep them both rattling in the breath. martin's own devolves into a happy sigh and then a moan he stifles against jon's lips, against his throat, along his shoulder as he leans down to rest his temple against the jut of it.
the rhythm is warm and steady, fast enough to keep itself exciting, all breath and warmth, needed friction as his other hand slides to smooth over jon's chest and takes hold of his other shoulder. he's almost half afraid to meet his eyes. not in a terrible way, but in a way that means he might combust if he does.
that's probably terrible too but.
it's the truth.
martin is hopelessly... hopelessly...
well. he won't say it. just in case. not even to himself. he works his hand over and over again, the thrill warming him from the tips of his toes to his face. every point of contact making his body sing in the hazy morning light warming his back, warming the sheets. every soft sound from him is earnest, needy, blunt nails digging into skin on his free hand, his other hand still tirelessly (debateable) moving over the both of them. ]
no subject
jon is too.
hopelessly, hopelessly.
the thought falls away, as it always does, buried beneath jon's determination not to think about it, and the sounds, sensations of martin's body beneath his. he ducks his head down into the hollow of martin's shoulder, lowers his entire body so that they are chest to chest with no gaps, the hard ruts of his hips getting harder still as he feels the wetness of martin's cock against his own. a hand sinks down to press against the underside of martin's thigh, push him apart a little bit more, his short, sharp breaths becoming a little choked.
his teeth catch on martin's skin again, tongue lathing over his throat as though to catch the vibrations of his sounds. ]
no subject
martin tries at least, lips parted and mouth open and whimpering on jon's cheek, on the jut of his jaw, on his mouth when he surges up to kiss him.
he wants to say something, whisper his name outloud, muffle the words into his thighs, maybe say it around his cock so he'll never have to understand it and martin will feel a feather's weight lighter than before. instead, he sets his lips in a firm line of concentration, arm pumping with a little more determination to bring jon up and over the edge. he reaches with his other hand to clutch at the base of his neck, to pull him as close as he can until he feels that familiar pull in his belly. ]
Jon--
[ it's soft. barely a plea choked out with a long breath. martin digs fingers in, pulls hair, and doesn't really waste much time coming first between the both of them. his head is practically swimming in sensation, and his body follows suit, shuddering as he does so, but hardly slowing his pace down.
don't say it. he's better off not saying it, don't say it. ]
no subject
he isn't loud, not the way that martin can be, when given the chance. jon is full of heady breaths, exhales that take echoes of sound, reverberating against the curve of martin's neck. too distracted to bite for a long moment, trying to help himself and martin along with the slide of his body between martin's strokes. it's ungainly, but it works, it makes him feel breathless and dizzy because it's martin, because they know each other's bodies so well now. the outlines, the likes and dislikes, the sensitive spots and the way to leave each other stupidly and profoundly speechless.
a soft, almost inaudible yes slips from his lips as martin presses, pulls, comes between their bodies. with something that feels like a herculean amount of strength, he lifts his head to crush their mouths together and swallow the sounds, the shudders, feeling the surge of nearness rising in the pit of his stomach. his mouth parts against martin's, eyes shut, brows furrowed as he joins martin mere moments later.
slowing, shivering like there's a cold breeze in the room, but his body feels like a furnace. almost stubbornly, he keeps rutting against martin, a little gentler now, but doing his level best to draw out his own pleasure that bit longer, and hopefully martin's too.
he could stay like this. with martin, tangled, for... a truly indeterminable and lengthy amount of time, he thinks. ]