Okay but think about that roleplay/game post for Jon/Martin 👀👀👀
yeah i..... <33333333 i just want to tell you right now that i have been writing a drabble in response to this ask (referencing this post) but it’s taking me a moment because every time i work on it i literally just end up jacking off. please hold. LMFAO
OK TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE HERE WE GO. this is the horniest thing i have ever published and i was kind of just playing the keyboard bongos by the end. no brain zone
“how embarrassing lol anyone else turned on right now?” - 5k, warning for mess, nondescript nsfw/masturbation, and mild d/s undertones
---
While Martin softly scratched at a notepad with the lightest and least preferable of vintage number 3 pencils, (a ‘lucky find’ according to him, despite the obnoxious eraser marks?) a shy yet self-satisfied Jonathan Sims lay beside him, pretending to read an awful mystery that he’d already given himself spoilers for, courtesy of the Eye. It was probably just as well; he could hardly focus on the text through his bleary eyes anyway.
It was a precious thing, however, that Jon’s idle turning of warped pages did not seem to rouse any suspicion on Martin’s end. No, Martin couldn’t spoil any fun for himself so easily, no matter how doting and observant he could often be. So, with all the stubbornness he could still manage to sneak past his adoring counterpart this late in the game, Jon held three worthy truths close to his chest:
1. He’d definitely come down with a cold.
2. Martin would have an absolute field day if he knew... but he wasn’t going to know just yet.
3. The sense of risk involved in this entirely unnecessary operation was... somehow the most arousing thing he’d ever experienced.
Jon felt so quietly bold, withholding this pleasure from Martin, and withholding any form of relief from himself. Perhaps he wouldn’t feel so awful if he hadn’t been breathing so carefully through parted lips, as he fought the urge to give in to the smallest sniffle. But at this point, his nose was so desperately runny and itchy that the smallest move, the smallest breath could give him away.
It was a hell of a gamble, having the nerve to intentionally hide anything from Martin at this point. Especially this. He was going to be in such big trouble when this charade ended.
But, oh god, he wasn’t ready. That little jolt of lovely danger as dampness trickled out onto his upper lip was too electric. He’d have to just leave it there for a moment, while it still felt as though any motion out of the corner of Martin’s eye would alert him...
For someone who was only the boyfriend of an eldritch voyeur, Martin sure was like a goddamn motion detector. Going off at the smallest eye-rub, fidget, nose-scratch, shiver, twitch, grimace, or brow-furrow. Hell, maybe he was more like an antenna; every sniffle, crackle, sigh, snicker, throat-clearing, rounded consonant, or change in breathing seemed to tip him off as well.
So, Jon would hold his breath as he felt the prickling wetness collect and itch and burn just a bit against his reddening skin. At least, until Martin was sufficiently engrossed in his thoughts, brow furrowing as he nibbled at the little metallic band at the end of his pencil.
{Apparently called a ferrule. [And, apparently, a constant victim of Martin’s gentle bite. (Enviable.) A self-soothing habit when he was looking for a word, or trying to concentrate on reading silently without mumbling, which was a thing he found difficult, as he was best with parsing information if it had an auditory aspect--] Christ, stop looking. Talk about self-soothing, during an entirely self-inflicted scenario. Downright embarrassing...}
Whenever that brief window of opportunity did seem to open, it was difficult to gauge when to discreetly swipe away the moisture with his bare hand, or dab it away with his sleeve. After all, both his hand and his sleeve were becoming uncomfortably wet.
There was also something exhilarating in the frantic relief Jon felt every time Martin fully turned away for any reason and he could finally rub at his nose without worrying about being too obvious. It was very little help, though. It had been hours of his nostrils feeling so perpetually wet and drippy, right at the surface. Plus, every touch and twitch had started to result in that tell-tale squishy crackle…
He had to be careful. Hours of leaky misery, just barely staved off rather than properly tended to… it was the kind of urgent, crawling need that presented no other option than to give in and desperately soak through as many tissues as it took to stop pouring for a moment. Too bad the tissue box rested on the nightstand at Martin’s side. He wasn't about to ask for it, no matter how severely he needed it. Not after holding out for this long.
He felt so disgusting. More miserable than he knew a cold could feel. And he loved it.
“Jon?”
Martin’s sweet voice filtered through Jon’s inner scheming, and it hit him like a hunger pang. The yearning and danger tied themselves into knots in his stomach.
“...yes?”
The simple act of talking caused the congestion to shift, making another one of those wet, crackling noises that Jon hoped were subtle enough to escape Martin’s notice.
“Sorry to disturb your reading, but... what’s another word for ‘confidant?’” Martin asked a bit sheepishly, eyes still on his notepad as he phased in and out of that signature pencil-nibble. The ferrule was properly dented in, and even a bit of the yellow had subtle bite marks that Jon couldn’t peer at without smiling adoringly.
Little did dear Martin know that his request for synonyms was strangely appropriate, as Jon had willed himself into one large all-day vocabulary test.
“Uh? Well, it’s hard to...” For all the stress and obvious blushing it caused him, this was perhaps Jon’s favorite part of this bizarre game he’d invented. It was like a time-sensitive puzzle. Find an exact match. No. Equal the exact... meaning. No. Definition. No. “...equal the exact... specificity, but…”
His nose was dripping again. It was definitely obvious. But, again, wiping his nose would probably be more obvious.
“Yeah, I’m not really married to it. Just looking for something similar in… vibe, I guess?” Martin smiled and shrugged, as Jon genuinely wracked his brain in stoic silence.
Companion. Consultant. “Advisor? Aide?”
“Ooh! Aide! Perfect! There we go… yeah, that’s nice. See, that’s what was bothering me, I wanted a shorter word. Good work, Jon.” Martin beamed, erasing something. He didn’t seem to mind the blobbish grey mark that terrible eraser left on the page. He simply etched the nicer word into the middle. Like a raincloud with the sun peeking through it. “A poet and you didn’t know it, yeah?”
Not even remotely. A decent thesaurus at most. “Please. I have a pretty good vocabulary, but... god forbid I try to put words together.”
“I think you have your moments.” Martin reassured, kind eyes narrowing and crinkling at the edges. Every glance burned a little and lasted an eternity, in the most thrilling of ways. “Oh! While we’re at it, what’s another word for ‘stark?’ Not especially bright or bold, or anything positive, just really... there, you know?”
Jon couldn’t pretend he wasn’t excited for another round.
“I guess, uh…” Naked. Blunt. “Bare? Harsh? Austere, but that’s…” More biased. Less impartial.
“Mm, austere! Liking that...” Martin interjected in some sort of playful imitation that was probably meant to sound gruff, before chuckling. “Sorry, I don’t mean to use you as a thesaurus. But I guess that’s exactly what I’m doing, huh? Are you using your powers for this?”
No! “If I were, I would tell you.”
Jon was very intentionally trying not to use his powers. That would be less fun, after all. Though, in quicker-paced moments such as these, it was becoming difficult to tell whether or not things were filtering in...
God, talking in any capacity was risky, and the sound of his voice seemed to betray him no matter how hard he tried to mind his M’s and N’s. [Fuck the P’s and Q’s, and screw the crossing and dotting of T’s and I’s, respectively. (Wait. T’s and I’s... Teas and Eyes. Hm. He really was minding those a bit too much already.)]
How could something as simple as a consonant or a quality to one’s breathing sound so watery, congested, and downright sniffly, in a complete absence of actual sniffles?
Perhaps, in this case, it was because his shallow breath was beginning to shudder, and his nose had started to twitch, which was... a problem.
He’d felt this cold creeping up on him since the night before, but he hadn’t sneezed yet. Hadn’t especially felt the need to, miraculously. He just felt drippy, heavy, and sensitive. He knew the smallest thing could likely send his eyelashes aflutter, but after hours upon uncomfortable hours of breathing oh-so-cautiously, he’d somehow scraped by.
Now, the feather-light prickle was flourishing, seemingly from so deep within that he couldn’t alleviate it just by rubbing his nose. His eyes were so bleary, and a little itchy snarl tugged at his lip as stinging drops of watery misery pooled around his nostrils. He hadn’t properly sniffled in hours, and he hadn’t blown his nose in even longer. The amount of mess he was just barely keeping at bay by dabbing at it with a soaked sleeve or palm was desperately looking for the smallest way out, and he knew that if he sneezed... oh, god, it would be a nightmare.
His abdomen twisted up into a mortified little cavern of pleasure, and he tried not to squirm as he set his book down on its spine and turned to press his forehead to Martin’s shoulder. Perhaps, this way, he could nestle under the blankets in such a way that he could rub the absolute hell out of his dripping nose without being caught...
“Aw, hey there.” Martin murmured, setting his notepad and dented-in pencil on the nightstand and ruffling Jon’s hair. “Time for a nap?”
“Probably…” Jon mumbled, limply grabbing at the air in search of the duvet.
“Yeah. Okay. You go ahead and have a rest.” Martin chuckled fondly, pulling the covers up to Jon’s ears and resting a gentle hand on his back from over the blankets.
Oh, thank god. Perfect.
Jon sank under the duvet and swiped thoroughly at his atrociously dripping septum with his sleeve, but he couldn’t seem to get himself cleaned up this time. Each time he tried to mop up the existing mess, it only drew more out, spilling out like a deluge and soaking the fabric. At least he had a moment to burrow, maybe even sulk a bit. It felt so good to be tucked in. So comforting to feel the weight of blankets and Martin’s hand. The feeling of bed. Soft bed, hazy thoughts, and the body, acknowledging its scratchy throat and stuffed up nose and simply riding out that badness, slowly trying to get well again.
Then, just as Jon had gotten caught up in a moment of slight reprieve, a question he didn’t expect arrived at the least ideal time.
“Oh, can I kiss you goodnight?” Martin asked, sounding much too hopeful for Jon’s heartstrings to withstand that inevitable, fearsome tug he often felt upon hearing that brittle voice. “I mean, it’s still light out, but… hah, you know.”
“Uh, yes. Just a… just a sec...” Jon stammered, pretending to yawn while he pressed his other sleeve to his nose for dear life, rubbing everything raw, until things were about as good as they were going to get.
And the moment he nervously tilted his head upward, Martin pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss that made it… very difficult not to squirm.
He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t sniffle. Still felt a bit damp. Vaguely needed to sneeze. Didn’t want to stop kissing.
Jon pulled away just as his nose was starting to drip, but before he could retreat back into the blankets, Martin caressed both of his cheeks and gave him a loving kiss on the nose that was so deliberate, it squished the tip of his nose to one side. Not ideal. Not ideal at all. The congestion audibly shifted, and that burning need to sneeze was so close…
In a dangerous last-ditch effort, Jon took Martin in his arms, and for dear life, he pressed his septum against Martin’s shoulder. He quickly found himself in a warm, tight embrace. The cooling touch of Martin’s jumper felt so much more pleasant against the angry skin around his nose than anything else he’d felt that day. It was briefly working, but now his nose was absolutely streaming in response to being denied release again, and he could only hope this fabric was thick enough to buy him some time before it became noticeable...
Oh, god, he really had to sneeze. He really had to sneeze.
Just as Jon’s breath hitched with a level of high-pitched desperation Martin had never heard on him, Jon attempted to pull away and sneeze off to the side.
Without missing a beat, Martin yanked his head back into his shoulder.
“...ah-...HAH’EHHGtschieuh! …-ghh… nhh-...”
Jon could only sigh and gasp stuffily as he tried to get his bearings. He felt like a crime scene. There was so much evidence, overflowing, seeping into the soft fabric, he didn’t dare pull away, nose pressed against Martin’s shoulder and arms hooked around him. He could feel a deeply humiliated heat rising to his cheeks, and a spike of adrenaline making his pulse pound. That cavern of pleasure in his abdomen flourished, causing his legs to shake and his breath to quicken.
“Oh. Jon. Goodness, that was-- that was, um... bless you.” Martin stammered in sympathetic disbelief, obviously a bit breathless himself. He ran his fingers through Jon’s hair for a moment, before remembering that the poor thing needed tissues immediately.
“Sorry... I’m sorry.” First ‘M’ of the day, and it stuck out like a swollen upper lip.
The first sniffle in a great while wasn’t any less pitiful to listen to. It was so much worse, in fact. Now that Jon had started sniffling, he couldn’t stop. One after another. It was just awful-sounding. Viscous and desperate for a way out.
“N-no, no, no, I’m sorry, I--...” Martin stuttered, plucking several tissues from the box beside him and shoving them in Jon’s hand.
“You’re fine…” Jon’s first priority, for some reason, as he pulled away, was dabbing at Martin’s shoulder, for what little good it did. He then pressed the handful of tissues to his nose, wincing a bit despite their softness, extremely sore from all the rubbing with his bare hand. The stinging only zapped him with bizarre arousal, as he thought about how long he’d held back. Just to take Martin off guard like this. Just to wait until he was an absolute mess to lean into being cared for by him. He had to say something. He had to explain. With tissues still pressed to his nose, he looked up at Martin through his eyelashes, making prolonged eye contact for the first time that day. “I, uh… suppose you’ve caught me, then?”
“Caught… you...?” Martin blinked, ears turning red. He swallowed hard, heart in his throat and arousal hitting him like a tidal wave at the sight of Jon’s deeply embarrassed yet direct stare, peering up at him. The feeling of being stared at over a handful of tissues was taking him apart a bit.
“I… I hid it from you.” Jon finally looked down as he tried to properly clean himself up, gesturing nervously with his other hand as he sniffled. “Th-that I’ve caught cold.”
“Wh-... I-...” Martin flushed bright red as he slowly processed what had been taking place right beside him for all those hours. “Jon!”
“Yeah...” Jon shrunk into himself.
“I knew it! I thought it was in my head, but I was right!” Martin exclaimed, sitting up and self-soothingly rubbing his legs as if creating friction, eyes absolutely on fire with realization.
“I’m sorry, it was just…” Jon chuckled, which quickly turned into a cough, which made his nose run, which required him to sit up as well and awkwardly reach for another handful of tissues. “It was just too much fun…”
“Fun?!” Martin shouted in smiling disbelief, grabbing the tissue box and playfully holding it out of his reach. “That’s why? You were holding out on me for fun?! Playing a little… game to get me worked up?!”
“Uh... yes?” Jon’s eyes darted back and forth as he brought his hand to his upper lip.
“Ooh, you are…” Martin pretended to seethe, shaking his head and then gently chucking the tissue box at Jon for effect. “Naughty!”
“I’m sorry!” Jon threw his hands up, smiling despite his dripping nose and slowly spreading blush. With an obvious need, he grabbed quite a bouquet of tissues and buried his nose in it, still only resorting to sniffling. “Was it... at least a bit surprising?”
“I mean, yeah, I just thought maybe the dust was getting to you a bit? I picked up that you were hiding it. Which, by the way, is not good for you! But... yeah, honestly, it took me a bit by, um… ah... oh, dear...” Martin rambled, trailing off sheepishly, hiding his face in his hands as if dizzied, and then starting to giggle, overwhelmed. “Oh, goodness. Okay. I’m okay. Oh, I’m sorry, it’s just... it’s just a lot.”
“Yeah, I... I think I know what you mean.”
“Oh, are you alright...?”
“Yes, you’ll… you’ll have to forgive me for getting so… invested, I...” Jon started to flush bright red from behind his excess of tissues, using his other hand to gesture in the general direction of his lower body. “Uh, I-I think I have to... t-take care of...”
Martin simply blinked again, lapsing entirely, before it became apparent in a large inhale that made his shoulders tense up that it had all clicked.
“Oh! Oh. Right! Right.” Martin nodded, his cheeks an adorable rosy pink, trying not to laugh at the sight of Jonathan Sims, hiding behind enough tissues to murder a tree and gesturing at his business, trying to explain politely that he needed to whack off. “Got it. Should I, um-- do you need a moment? To yourself? I can just--”
“Uh, actually, I…” Jon softly began, voice nearly breaking, not only from the achy dryness of his throat, but also from sheer want. “If it isn’t… too selfish of me... I mean, i-if you’d like to... do you think you could... stay, and... hold me while I...? Or, I don’t know, just… talk to me? Only if you--”
“If it’s alright, I’d… I’d--I’d be happy to.” Martin smiled warmly, saving Jon from inevitable backpedaling, caressing his waist for a moment before laying him down on his side and setting the tissue box beside them.
“Thank you, Martin…” Jon whispered, breath wavering as Martin touched his waist, desire consuming him. Legs shaking harder than before. Unable to resist any longer, he frantically unbuckled his trousers and blushingly began to stimulate himself, flinching with pleasure at the first moment of contact.
“Oh, Jon. Let’s get you comfortable…” Martin gently murmured, pulling the covers up over the both of them. “Oh, you are a bit worked up, aren’t you? You’re shaking. That’s okay.”
It should have been difficult for Martin to tell the difference between Jon’s ragged breaths of pleasure and his hitching breaths of irritation, but it wasn’t. Antenna skills, and all. Just like that, Martin guided Jon’s head into his chest, stroking his hair comfortingly. Jon knew to set his tissue bouquet aside and just muffle his misery into the softness of Martin’s jumper.
“...ihh-! IDD’gzshieuh! …-ghh. HAH’ngsch!-dhhh...”
Those post-sneeze sighs were definitely starting to mingle with moans. It felt incredible to give in to what he’d been fighting off all day, in both regards, and each horrifically messy sneeze nearly sent him over the edge with how deeply... improper it all felt.
“Bless you…” Martin offered sympathetically as Jon tried to sniffle back some of the disaster. He shook his head and grabbed a few tissues, tilting Jon’s head up and having a look at him in his lustful, messy state. After tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, Martin gently clamped the tissues over Jon’s nose. “Here, god’s sake, blow your nose, don’t torture yourself any more...”
“C-can I?” Jon asked meekly, but it sounded much more pleading than he intended as he worked himself up into a frenzy.
“You’ve waited too long already. Don’t be shy, go on...” Martin smiled kindly, but there was clearly something a bit twisted behind it. A way in which Jon deeply enjoyed being looked at by him.
The moment Martin’s fingers gently blocked one nostril, Jon instantly gave in. It was perhaps the neediest, wettest sound either of them had ever heard, in a way that made them both want to whimper with arousal. Jon only stopped humiliating himself to take a breath sufficient enough to continue, before launching back into another long, miserable-sounding blow that showed no sign of the congestion letting up. Martin hadn’t even switched sides yet, and the tissues were soaked through.
“Nngh, I’m sorry, that’s… that’s really...” Jon choked out, face disheveled.
“No, it’s good. You really needed that, yeah? It must’ve felt dreadful, keeping so quiet…” Martin reassured before kissing the bridge of Jon’s nose with great indulgence.
“I--... it did... it was hard to... s-stay presentable… thought I’d get caught… so many t-times...” Jon moaned, quite obviously getting himself in a frenzy just talking about it.
“Yeah, you were tough. Hardly a sniffle out of you. I couldn’t have done it.” Martin smiled adoringly, revelling in how deeply Jon seemed to be enjoying this, and how oddly sweet he found it. He shook his head and tutted, clamping another handful of tissues over Jon’s nose and gently blocking the other nostril. “Here, again.”
And again, Jon gave in, blowing his nose with such effort that it made his abdominal muscles constrict, and this time, the release felt even better. Feeling and hearing a day’s worth of a terrible cold’s untended congestion finally breaking loose, as he narrowly kept himself from the edge of climax… satisfying didn’t begin to cover it. And the exhilaration of just letting go and getting torrents of that sickness out, into the comforting hand of someone who knew how disgusting it was, but held the tissues to his nose anyway without any hesitation, just trying to help him feel a bit better… the feeling of being watched and enjoyed as he felt all of these terribly indulgent things... it was a guilty pleasure, to say the least. And the guilt was the perfect reminder of taboo that had him feverishly pleasuring himself all the while.
As he sighed (moaned?) into Martin’s hand with the effort after blowing his nose to his heart’s content, he felt a buzzing prickle that blossomed into an overwhelming need (and want) to sneeze. And yet, something in him hesitated, as Martin disposed of the soaked tissues of the previous moment--
“S-sorry, I--...” Jon whispered, voice not quite working, and he brought his free hand up to his stinging, reddened septum to press as hard up against it as he could. “...HAH’nnkt! HUH’ggkt!-dhh... HNN’kgt!-ghh…”
“No, no. That won’t do, Jon. It won’t stop ‘til you let it happen.” Martin gently grabbed Jon’s wrist and tugged it away from his face, eliciting a high-pitched moan from Jon as his nose started to drip and his breath hitched wildly, with his face completely uncovered.
Now both of his hands were occupied.
“EHHDDDgshieuh! ...h-HUH’Ddzhieuhh! ...nnh...” Jon could only sneeze down into his chest, with an intensity that wracked his whole body and left him a mess, eyes and nose streaming, breathing in choked, stuffed-up gasps.
“There you go, that’s it. Bless you.” Martin purred, tilting Jon’s chin upwards so he could take a good look. “You spent so long feeling miserable just to tease me... now it’s time to get it all out, yeah? Nothing to be embarrassed about. I want you to feel good.”
“Martin... it f-feels good… to be embarrassed…” Jon breathlessly stammered, staring at Martin with narrowed, desperate eyes, head up in the clouds. “With you looking at me…”
“Oh… r-really?” Martin smiled a bit devilishly through his blush, tenderly drying Jon’s tears with his thumb, but doing nothing to stop his nose from pouring all the way down to his chin. “W-well, hah. It’s a... it’s a good thing I can’t stop staring.”
“...hh-DGSHhieuh! ...AEgshieuh! ...h-huh-...” In each sneeze, there was a bit more of a whine. Or, perhaps, a break, indicating that general feeling of ‘oh god, this can’t be happening, I can’t ruin myself more than I already have,’ that came with the sheer volume of mess involved. Even as he sneezed openly, with more and more misery dripping down his face each time, it still seemed as though he was holding back. And whatever he was trying to restrain was about to force its way out of him with the impending sneeze that had his lashes fluttering and his upper lip twitching. His wrist strained a bit against Martin’s grip.
“It’s alright. Get it out.” Martin soothingly ordered, grip loose enough that Jon could escape it if he wanted to, but tight enough to affirm that he didn’t have to. Jon didn’t fight it after that.
“EHDDGSSHHIeuh! …-ghhh...” Jon pitched forward, bowing his head as crackling mess burst out of him, overflowing and dripping slightly onto the bedsheets, too disastrous to attempt sniffling back, so he simply tried to catch his breath. He forced himself to look back up at Martin despite how wholly humiliating it was, and it was so difficult not to buckle under the eroticism.
“God bless. Goodness, you’re bright red.” Martin chuckled, expecting some retort about how he was as well, but only receiving a squeak-like moan from Jon in response, seemingly in reaction to being teased a bit. Perhaps he’d struck a nerve he should keep prodding at. He kissed Jon’s forehead, murmuring with a soft, encouraging gentleness. “Is that good for you, Jon? Making a mess of yourself?”
“Nngh...! Martin--... can’t hold back... much m--...” Jon rasped helplessly, squirming in response as his face continued to leak and stick to the sheets, stinging his raw skin and causing prickling unrest. “...ah, I still need t-t--... HG’dhh! NNK’ghht! ...h-huh-... AEGH’shhieuh!-dhh…”
“God bless.” Martin just barely caught the last sneeze with another handful of tissues, before slowly squeezing Jon’s nose and hearing an abundance of wetness squeak and pool out, absorbing it with care as Jon choked and softly coughed. Then, he folded the tissues over and slowly dabbed all the way down to his chin, taking his sweet time and letting the thick mess stick to the tissue, creating long, shining strings of drippy misery as he pulled it away. Jon’s gasps quickened in their shuddering suspense with each tender touch.
Then, finally, Martin pressed another handful of tissues to Jon’s twitching, wet nostrils, blocking one side. “Here, you’ve done well. Go ahead.”
Jon didn’t hesitate. How was it that after such a short amount of time, just a few messy sneezes could bring him right back to how miserable he sounded the first time he blew his nose? In fact, the sound was thicker this time. His sinuses were throbbing, and his face was pouring, and oh god, he felt vulnerable. He could come any second. As he got closer to climax, he started to feel light-headed and a bit shy, blowing much softer than before. It didn’t make much of a difference, since not much pressure was needed to loosen rather appalling amounts of congestion. The sound and result was just as utterly graphic. But it didn’t escape Martin’s notice.
“Oh, there’s no need to hold back. I know how much you need this.” Martin sweetly reminded, slowly and thoroughly wiping Jon’s wet nostrils, before grabbing a few more tissues and replacing them to his nose, blocking the other side. Jon immediately gave in once again, this time with a bit more force despite how light-headed and out of breath he was from breathing so heavily.
It was then that Martin knew exactly how to break him.
“Mm, poor thing… you must be so embarrassed.” Martin murmured, lilted and knowing.
And that was it. Right in the middle of the euphoric feeling of finally clearing his congestion, nose buried in a handful of tissues, he had to break away, nose still streaming, to gasp and throw his head back with an intense orgasm that teamed up with the humiliated tightness in his chest, his throat... as soon as he succumbed to a few squeaking outcries, Martin pulled him close, gently rubbing his back. Jon buried his face in Martin’s chest as he rode out the final waves of pleasure, muffling the last of his moans and catching his breath.
“There you go... it’s okay. I’m right here. Feel better?” Martin whispered, an obvious smile very present in his grounding voice.
“I... I, uh... yes.” Jon stammered, panting a bit as Martin pressed a few tissues into his hand.
“Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”
“J’stay right here a little, please...” Jon shyly burrowed further into Martin’s jumper, limply crumpling the tissues into a ball and holding them under his nose.
“Okay, sounds good.”
So they stayed like that, until Jon shifted a bit, sniffling and clearing his throat nervously. “...uh, if you need to… if you need to also take care of yourself… that’s alright.”
Martin’s heart skipped a beat. Or twenty. “Oh. Um. Like, h-here?”
“Yes... if you want. I can… try to talk you through it, but… I might not be as good as you…” Jon mumbled stuffily, obviously suppressing a yawn.
“Oh, I mean, you can, but you seem a little tuckered out… besides, I… I think I have more than enough fuel for the fire.” Martin flushed bright pink, chuckling as he tried to fathom what was about to happen.
“Hm... can I just hold you, then? While you’re… while you’re at it.” Jon kindly whispered, wrapping his arms around Martin’s waist.
“Mm... p-please.” Martin breathily pleaded, tucking a hand under his waistband and knowing immediately that he wouldn’t last long--
“Oh, I think I--... hh-NN’tscheuh!” Jon pitched forward into Martin’s chest, rubbing his nose against the fabric of his jumper.
“Mmh, Jon…!” Martin squeaked, losing it instantly, orgasm rippling through every little sensitive part of him that had been on fire for so long... there was no way he could have held out even a second longer. He listened ravenously to Jon’s perfect, congested sniffles as he came down, fingers pressing into Jon’s back with a shaking desperation. And then, all at once, he was blissed out just like his tired boyfriend, cuddling into him and taking deep breaths.
Oh, god. That was so quick. Embarrassingly quick.
“Ah… um... sorry! Sorry. I-- I’m usually slow, I just couldn’t--... um, bless you.” Martin stuttered.
“Martin…” Jon smirked sleepily. “How long were you on-edge like that?”
“Oh, I-I don’t know. A couple hours? Obviously it got a lot more urgent in the last… you know, like, thirty minutes...”
“Hmm… you were holding out on me as well.”
“...maybe.”
“Well… don’t let me stop you. Go again, if you need.” Jon rasped contentedly, thumb gently rubbing the small of Martin’s back.
Martin bowed his head with embarrassment, blushing madly and pulling his favorite sneaky little voyeur closer to him.
“...I think I just might.”
WOW. This is EVERYTHING.
