Work Text:
Knock, knock, knock.
Martin's knuckle rapped on the bedroom door as lightly as he could while still being audible. He came home late, the buses having broke down, and he didn't want to wake Jon if he was sleeping by now.
He twisted the knob, pushing the door open to see the back of Jon fast asleep in bed—facing Martin's spot, his legs tangled in and sprawling across the sheets. It looked like he waited for Martin to come home, but couldn't fight the pull of sleep.
His burgundy shorts were hiked up as high as possible, and his black shirt was lifted to show some of his stomach. Even his hair, usually kempt, was splayed out behind him on the pillow, his curls a dark sea with silver streaks like moonlight running through them.
Martin couldn’t help but put a knuckle to his mouth and bask in the sight. He had a bad day, some lady at the flower shop demanding flowers he didn't have and not giving up, but this view made it all the more worth it.
He shifted where he stood, friction catching his attention and pent up energy going straight down to his crotch as he stares. His eyes went wide and he glanced down, then back at Jon. Not now!
The two of them had previously agreed on certain ideas, one being that Jon enjoyed the idea of waking up to being fucked — "There's something particularly arousing about being woken up by passion," Jon had said, albeit after a good bit of convincing that Martin valued and wanted his honesty — and Martin enjoyed the idea of fucking him while he's sleeping. "You just… look so beautiful. It's hard to resist, sometimes." So technically, Martin had nothing to fear, but after his day at work, he didn't want to put in the energy. He let out a small groan.
Jon shifted in his spot, Martin freezing every muscle in his body. He just took in a deep sigh and turned, so he was now facing towards Martin. For several seconds that felt like hours, Martin stood as still as he could, hoping with every ounce of his being that he wouldn't wake up.
Thankfully, after maybe 10 real-world seconds, Jon was visibly still out cold. Martin breathed, quieter this time. Not tonight. He looks so peaceful.
Martin quietly changed in the adjoined bathroom, leaving on his black boxers and no shirt. It was warm out, so he didn't want to layer up. He eyed the silk pajamas hanging on the back of the bathroom door.
He turned the light off before entering back into the bedroom, avoiding direct eye contact with Jon's too-high shorts and hiked up shirt, and lay down on the bed behind Jon, facing him.
As soon as Martin's full weight was on the bed, Jon shifted, groaning and pushing back into him. Martin simply planked sideways in place, not wishing for physical contact but not wanting to wake Jon up. Of course, Jon's behind made contact with Martin's crotch as he shuffled his back into his chest, and Martin stifled a whimper. Not now, not now, not now!
Jon shifted his behind and let out a quiet, almost imperceptible high hum of content, and Martin's resolve broke. He was so pent up that every brush of friction sent shivers up his spine, and he had to put a hand tightly over his mouth to stay quiet. His other fist clenched and he began lightly rocking against Jon, who made no indication of waking up or responding.
Martin let out an airy groan from his throat, his right hand landing ever-so-gently on Jon's shorts, his back two fingers resting on the skin below them. His hips involuntarily rolled into Jon when he felt his warmth directly compared to his own cold hands, a shiver shaking his body. Come on, have more control! He winced.
He needed more, the simple friction against the inside of his shorts not doing enough for him. He grimaced, taking his hand away and gently pulling down his own boxers before tossing them to the edge of the bed where they fell. He didn't care. He glanced down at himself, already hard as a rock.
Back in position, Martin guided his hand to Jon's shorts. This was the hard part. They were too tight to just go around them, so he had to remove them. He avoided making direct skin contact so as to not shock Jon awake, and he ever-so-slowly began pulling them down. He bit his lip as the smooth skin of Jon's arse became fully exposed, his eyebrows knitting together. The spare moonlight made it almost look shiny. Jon's back arched slightly, and Martin nearly broke through the skin of his lip.
After staring for long enough, Martin's dick twitched and he got impatient. His arm swung backwards and he sifted through the drawer of his nightstand, finally feeling his hand wrap around a bottle of lube. He tried to warm up his hands by rubbing them against each other, then opened the lid and squeezed some out onto his palm. He rubbed it on himself, trying to distance his mind from the sensation.
He scooted forward, finally grabbing a hold of Jon's ass and lifting the side upward. His teeth's grip on his lip didn't lighten up as he guided his dick to the entrance of Jon's hole, his breath catching as he made contact. He held the air in his lungs, pushed his hips forward, and let out a full, shaky, open-mouthed exhale of relief against Jon's hair. Nothing felt like this. Nothing would ever compare.
He bit back a groan, his eyes rolling back in his head. He bottomed out inside of Jon with a hand on his hip, and Jon hummed again, so Martin froze. He propped his upper body up on an elbow to see around Jon's shoulder, and he saw his eyebrows furrow, mouth hanging open. This only turned Martin on more.
He began rocking, watching Jon's facial expressions shift between confusion and sleepy ecstacy. The knowledge that Jon was probably off somewhere in his dreams — whether they be wet dreams or not — completely unaware, made Martin twitch inside of him.
He pulled out halfway, every fiber of his body fighting to speed up and slam into his unconscious figure until he was finished, but he resisted, slowly pushing back in and feeling a groan bubble up from his chest. He couldn't stop it, the low tone boiling from his throat, and he tightened his grip on Jon's hip. The squelching sound of his movement within Jon made his head spin.
Too much. Too much all at once. He felt his mind losing over the desires of his body, and he began thrusting in and out of Jon, albeit slower than he wanted to, the knot in his stomach building. Jon stirred, and Martin released a frustrated moan. This felt too good to fight.
Jon's fists balled around air in front of him, and his brows were somehow even more drawn than before. He clenched around Martin, whose breath hitched. His head reeled from the sensation as Jon opened and closed his fists. His eyelids fluttered, and Martin couldn't slow himself down.
Jon's eyes opened, a look of confusion flashing on his face before his head swivelled and his eyes landed on Martin's, whose face was beet red, but who also showed no signs of slowing down. He groaned with Martin's movement and his eyebrows rose, mouth falling wide open as he grew used to the sudden realization that Martin was inside of him. Had already been inside of him while he slept.
"Oh, Marti- Ah!" Jon tried to speak, but was cut off by Martin's immediate increase in speed, so he just threw his arm behind him and latched onto Martin's thigh.
Martin growled lowly, roughly reaching an arm below Jon's top leg and lifting it for easier access now that he was awake. Jon's nails dug into Martin's thigh as he arched his back, and Martin finally lost it.
A rush of relief hit him as he let out a high, drawn-out groan that was accentuated by every unsteady thrust as he continued trying to ride out his climax. His vision went white and starry as he hit the peak. Jon cried out with each impact, attempting to squeeze his thighs together and failing against Martin's strong grip. His arm flew to the bed in front of him, and he balled up the sheets in his fist, his knuckles whitening. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, and he let the euphoria of feeling full wash over him.
Martin's movement slowed, his hot, heaving breaths against Jon's neck causing Jon to shudder. He thrust hard one final time before letting go of Jon's thigh, falling forward over him and just catching himself with his arm. He dropped back onto the bed and exhaustedly dug his nose into Jon's hair with a deep, pleasured sigh, taking in his scent. He pressed a kiss to the back of Jon's head, bringing his hand to rest on the side of Jon's stomach. His chest was sweaty, but Jon didn't shy away.
"Thank you," Martin exhaled, and Jon didn't need to turn around to picture his flushed cheeks.
After a minute or so of Martin catching his breath, Jon squirmed with Martin still inside him. The warmth in his stomach was almost too much.
"Ah- Sorry," Martin apologized, the overstimulation hitting him as he winced while pulling out. Jon whined, missing the fullness.
"What do you need, love? Let me help."
"I just- hah- I need you, Martin. Any way at all. I just need you. Please."
After silently admiring Jon's pleading eyes, Martin nodded dutifully, picking himself up with as much strength as he had left. He shifted down the bed and knelt below Jon, and his breath caught in his throat. He watched as Jon spasmed around nothing, his own spend dripping from his hole out and down the back of his thigh. His own, from inside of Jon. He stiffened in place, transfixed on it. Jon squirmed as he felt it trickle down his skin, not knowing if he should be aroused or embarrassed, and Martin took a deep shaking breath.
"You have no idea how incredible you are," Martin sighed, placing a thumb on Jon's arse and lifting the skin for a better view. Jon almost tried to object after he realized what Martin said, but was interrupted when Martin slid that thumb into Jon, knowingly preventing any semblance of complaint as Jon's back arched, chasing it. Martin chuckled breathily, retracted his thumb, and slipped it into his own mouth as Jon turned curiously and watched with the most shock-filled, wonderous expression Martin had ever seen. He closed his eyes and revelled in the taste from inside of Jon, still trying to process it. He eventually pulled his thumb from his lips with a quiet-yet-accentuated, pop! and looked back at Jon, whose very words died on his tongue.
Martin smiled—Jon would've sworn it was a smirk—and lowered down, hearing a quivering sigh from above him. Jon squeezed the sheets again, glad he was laying down as he felt his head swim. He gasped and held his breath as he felt a finger stripe up his folds, lightly dipping in and out of him, and he shut his eyes tight when he thought about it being the same thumb that was just inside Martin's mouth.
"Please… Need more, Martin," Jon breathed, and Martin's head lifted, temporarily concerned over the desperation in Jon's voice. He must've been wanting this for longer than Martin anticipated. He slid a hand in between Jon's thighs, gently lifting, guiding his torso with his other. Jon complied, wincing as he twisted to lay on his back. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, hands on either side of him, and he tried to grab the sheets, but his fingers didn't have the strength for it.
"Mm… So good for me." Martin spoke, and a shudder rippled through Jon's body.
Martin spread his legs by the knees, lowering his head, watching Jon intently as his chest heaved with effort. He placed his hands on either side of Jon's hips, and he licked a slow, tantalizing strip up Jon's folds, stopping on his dick. Jon took in a trembling breath and stalled. Martin wrapped his mouth around it, sucking, closing his eyes and feeling the vibrations of Jon's low groans reverberate through his lips. A hand came down to grip his hair, and Martin keened in return, pulling another blissful gasp from Jon. Martin's scalp burned as Jon's grip intensified and his thighs tightened on either side of Martin's head, causing his still mostly-soft dick to twitch. Martin furrowed his brow and focused. This is Jon's turn. He swirled his tongue, and Jon's toes curled.
Jon slapped a hand to his mouth, stifling cry after cry, and Martin backed off. Jon whimpered and looked down, frustrated, but his face dropped when he saw Martin's stern expression.
"I want to hear you."
Jon groaned and lowered his hand in reluctant compliance, then Martin inserted a thick finger and licked his dick at the same time. The action ripped a loud cry from Jon, and Martin hummed into him. His upper body curled up off of the bed as he tangled all of his fingers in Martin's hair, keeping his head in place as his tongue worked. Martin then lowered his head further, finally licking into Jon, and Jon fell onto the bed, his back arching as he chased the sensation. He blanked, his vision obscured by stars and his mind only filled with pleasure and Martin, Martin, Martin.
Martin worked and worked as if this were his best and final accomplishment, desiring to draw out every possible sound he could from his lover and make him feel every pleasurable sensation there is to feel. Jon's grip had loosened and his breath was stuttering, his hips thrusting in vain, and Martin could tell he was nearing the end as he spoke into him.
"Come on, love. Let go." He pressed a kiss to Jon's dick and Jon writhed, feeling Martin's beard scratch his inner thighs and his breath tickle his groin. "I'm right here. I'm yours."
"Yes, Martin, yes—ah!" A half-broken cry escaped Jon's lips. Too much, he thought, too much! Martin thrust his tongue deep into Jon and curled it. His hand rose up to Jon's side, pushing his shirt up further, and gently rubbed. He wrapped his other arm around Jon's thin thigh, bringing two fingers to Jon's dick. He squeezed and twisted it with just enough pressure to raise Jon's middle completely off the bed, every muscle in his body tightening, his ankles locking behind Martin's head and thighs clamping around it, and he wailed so high and with a force so intense his eyes rolled back into his head and his knuckles turned white in Martin's hair. Martin himself sharply inhaled at the yank, still licking into Jon, forming a suction around his opening and swallowing to taste every last bit he possibly could before Jon couldn't handle any more.
Before long, Jon sunk back into the bed, panting. One hand dropped next to him, the other still resting on Martin's head. Jon fussed underneath his still-moving mouth, clenching and unclenching, and he softly pulled Martin's hair upwards, mewling and twitching at the now-overwhelming sensations. Martin yielded, gently licking the outside of Jon's entrance and lifting his head. Jon watched his tongue swirl around his lips with a sudden hunger.
"Please kiss me." Jon huffed, and Martin's expression melted into one of admiration. He removed his head from between Jon's thighs, and Jon shivered, missing the warmth. Martin crawled up next to Jon propped on his elbow, cradling his jaw with a warm hand, and pressed his lips to Jon's. Jon whined, pushing his tongue against Martin's closed mouth.
"You know that's not what I meant," Jon complained, and Martin laughed aloud, a delightful sound to Jon's ears. He dipped his head down, eyebrows drawn, and Jon sucked in a breath before Martin opened his mouth and licked his tongue as deep as he could into Jon's wanting mouth. He melted with an utterly obscene moan at the mixed taste of both himself and Martin, vibrating both of them and causing Martin to press into his mouth harder—if that was even possible. His hand snaked around Jon's back underneath his shirt, nails lightly digging into his skin, and he pulled Jon to lay sideways so their bodies faced each other. Jon put an arm around Martin's torso, squeezing as much as he could to get inhumanly close. They wanted to simply meld into one another, become one, ignoring and escaping the entire world just to be together.
They exchanged wet, open-mouthed, passionate kisses continuously until Jon finally pulled away breathlessly and buried his head in Martin's chest. Martin shivered feeling his breath, relishing in it with his chin resting on the top of Jon's head, one arm underneath Jon's neck wrapped around to hold him as close as he could. They lay silent save for their panting echoing off of the walls. Jon turned his head and listened to Martin's heavy heartbeat slowly calm, and he sighed into him.
"I love you. So much," Jon spoke in between breaths. "I don't have the words for how much." He squeezed Martin's torso and balled his fists on his back.
Jon heard Martin's heartbeat rise, and after a few seconds of silence, he heard his breath stutter with a light sniffle. His head shot up to see tears building in Martin's eyes, his mouth in a wobbly smile.
"I love you, too, Jon. I always have, and I always will. I'll never stop." Jon's expression turned from concern into warmth, and Martin squeezed him in return, his back curling to envelop Jon even more. Martin tilted his head downward to kiss Jon again, this time slow, deliberate, and full of sweet adoration from both parties. After a few more, Martin sighed and placed his head back ontop of Jon's. They tangled their legs together, too warm to pull up the sheets but never too warm to separate, and Martin felt Jon's breath on his chest slow while Jon heard Martin's do the same. Jon fell asleep first, and Martin uttered the last words of the night before he fell asleep in turn.
"No matter what."