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Their “discussions” (as Elias insisted on calling them despite Jon’s protest) took place as they always did: in Elias’ office with Jon sitting perched on his lap. How different from their first time doing this, Jon thought idly as Elias stroked his hands down over Jon’s shoulders in comforting motions. The first time had begun with Jon letting himself into Elias’ office, face flushed, hands fidgety, and an explanation (excuse?) along the lines of ‘needing to experience and know’ painstakingly prepared. Elias had taken one look at him, said “Of course, Jon,” in that bureaucratic, understanding tone of his, and had then proceeded to fuck him over the desk with a roughness Jon hadn’t thought him capable of. Jon had initially startled at the abruptness then, but now he recognized it for what it had been: Elias being kind and benevolent. Now he had to deal with this and the worst part was Jon couldn’t even rightfully say he hated it. Not when Elias puts two fingers under his chin to tilt his face up, look into his eyes and says,
“Now Jon. I have something for you but first you must earn it. Tell me what you want.”
The Eye had not granted Elias the power of compulsion, a fact that Jon was usually grateful for, but in this specific moment he furtively wished that Elias could force the words out of him. Make him say all of the things that he wanted to without shame or embarrassment closing up his throat. "Of course, Elias could just read his mind and know what he wanted; he probably was (the bastard). But no. No, Elias was going to make him say it . He was going to make Jon admit to all the shameful, twisted things he wanted Elias to do to him. Jon bit his lip, hard, at the heat that surged through him that thought and cursed his body for being turned on by this whole, ridiculous ordeal.
“Jon?” Elias prompted him, crooking his fingers slightly so that neat, well-maintained nails dug into Jon’s chin slightly. Jon swallowed, briefly wishing that Elias would increase the pressure on his neck, or maybe even wrap his whole hand around it and just squeeze. Elias had choked him once and now Jon couldn’t look at those hands without thinking about them wrapped around his throat, slowly cutting off his air supply. Jon inhaled sharply.
“I, uh, I want you to, well, I would really like you to, for you to touch me,” he stumbled his way through the words, as if this were his first time saying them. He tried to turn his head away, to tuck it against his chest to hide his embarrassment, but Elias’ fingers proved unyielding and he had no choice but to continue to look straight ahead into his eyes.
“Now, dear, that’s really quite vague. I’m going to have to ask you to be more specific with your requests,” Elias said mildly, and Jon groaned, though he hadn’t expected that to be enough even in the slightest. It was more than likely that Elias wasn’t going to fuck him properly unless he begged for it, and even then he might not if Elias determined that he hadn’t been on his best behavior. Elias did, however, slide the hand that wasn’t on his chin down to rest on his upper thigh, rubbing circles into his hipbone, so at least that was something, though it only served to emphasize how Elias wasn’t touching him where he actually wanted to be touched. Needed to be touched. Jon became acutely aware of the many layers of clothing that stood between them.
Jon reached for the hem of his sweater, pausing to look up at Elias before pulling it off. “May I?” he asked and, at Elias’ permissive nod, he pulled off his sweater and unbuttoned the dress shirt that lay underneath it, doing his best to quell the nervous tension curling inside him. He wanted this. Elias’ touch had a way of hypersensitizing his emotions. He felt the most at ease when he was in Elias’ arms, but he was also the most unsure of himself when faced with the man’s overwhelming attention.
Even now with Jon’s entire torso out on display, Elias kept his hands mostly to himself, just watching Jon with that calm, even look that had Jon biting his cheek in frustration. He wanted Elias interested. He wanted Elias engaged .
Frustrated at the lack of substantive attention, Jon leaned forward to kiss Elias, licking lightly at the seam of his lips as one of his hands wandered to Elias’ lap, pushing at the growing bulge he found there. Elias indulged the kiss and the groping touch for a few seconds before he reached up and tangled a hand in Jon’s hair, pulling him back. Jon’s breath hitched as he struggled not to groan aloud and he squirmed slightly in Elias’ arms at . The hand was firm enough to be effective, but nowhere near as hard as Jon wanted it to be. Jon pouted at him and Elias simply tsked, “You didn’t ask for permission. You know better than that, Jon.”
Jon swallowed and bit his lip at the disapproval on Elias’ face. Jon got all...twitchy whenever Elias took that tone with him. He felt restless and nervous and unbearably seen. He fidgeted for a second, glancing away from Elias in a way he usually wouldn't have, his fingers unconsciously scratching at the skin of his wrists. "I'm sorry it won’t happen again," Jon promised, looking back up at him with faint trepidation.
Elias's face was still irritatingly blank, his expression undecipherable. Jon’s breathing kicked up slightly and a hint of genuine worry coursed through his system, but then Elias nodded in acknowledgement of his apology and gestured with one hand for Jon to continue. Jon didn't dare think he was forgiven, this was most certainly going to come back to bite him later, but he let out a breath of relief.
“Will you touch my chest? Please,” he asked, doing his absolute best to keep the desperate whine out that threatened to make an appearance out of his voice. Elias liked when he was polite, when he asked and said please and took whatever he was given. Elias liked when he was good, and he was trying his best to be good for Elias. It was hard, though, when it looked like Elias was just planning on sitting there staring at him .
A pleased smile broke out on Elias' face at this, and Jon was equal parts thrilled and self conscious. "There you go, Jon, that's all you had to say. " One of Elias' hands came up to cup Jon's left breast, lightly squeezing it before running a thumb over the nipple. Jon hummed at the contact, leaning forward into Elias' hand. Jon's breasts were small, really just enough for a handful and his nipples weren't particularly sensitive, but after being teased with only light touches to his arms and legs for the past 10 minutes or so, Jon reacted more strongly to the touch then he perhaps usually would. Elias continued to just cradle his breast, and Jon, for a horrifying moment, thought that Elias wasn’t going to do anything more without making Jon ask for it more specifically. Jon didn't think he could handle that, having been overcome with embarrassment at just asking Elias to touch.
However after a couple seconds of idly running his fingers over Jon's nipples, eliciting small soft noises from Jon in the process, Elias took pity upon him and leaned forward. He took one of Jon nipples' into his mouth, sucking at the raised flesh lightly, before biting down it. Jon gasped and arched his back, pushing his chest towards Elias even more.
"E-elias," he murmured, tugging at his shoulders lightly to encourage him to continue. Elias lapped at the nipplple he'd just bitten , soothing the reddened skin with his tongue. He looked up at Jon , making eye contact, as he ran his tongue over it and the intensity of his gaze as well as the visual of Elias using his tongue on Jon's had him sinking his teeth into his lip in an attempt to avoid making any ridiculously embarrassing noises. An attempt that failed as a strangled little gasp broke out from Jon’s mouth. Elias had barely touched him, for god's sake he should not be so worked up about this, gasping at squealing like a virgin high school student. Elias smirked at him, the bastard, before moving onto Jon's other nipple, giving it the same treatment. Jon was hopelessly worked up after a few minutes, breathing heavily into the air, hips jerking in vain to find some place of contact to ease the tension coiled low in his core. The stimulation on his chest was pleasant, in a frustrating way as was Elias’ way, but it wasn’t nearly enough for him to reach satisfaction. Which Elias knew full well.
“Elias," Jon groans into his ear, reaching up to pull Elias' face towards him before remembering at the last minute that he wasn't supposed to touch Elias.
"Yes, my dear," Elias whispered back at him, voice still frustratingly calm, before leaning back and out of reach of Jon's aborted movements. Jon huffed at him, tempted to throw all their rules out the window in order to go on a spiel about how ridiculous this all was when Elias ' hand moved from his chest to pull his skirt up around his waist, and all thoughts of sedition left his mind. Elias’ fingers slowly trailed along the edges of his panties; cute little lacy white things, as opposed to his normal pair of boxers (Elias did so enjoy when he came prepared). Two of his fingers dipped under the edges to tease at the lips of Jon’s pussy and his thumb lightly danced over his still covered clit. Uncontrolled whimpers burst from Jon’s mouth and he had to force himself not to rock forward onto Elias’ hand.
"Jonathan. Tell me what you want," Elias said again , except this time his words were a command, and edict that was not to be disobeyed. Elias didn’t compel, he couldn’t, but Jon's lips still moved on instinct, Elias’ certain tone pulling the words from his throat as surely as any Beholding given compulsion could have.
"Please put your fingers in me ," Jon begged, hip jerking slightly against the contact that was not quite enough. Elias rewarded him with a smile, a kiss, and two fingers buried in his cunt. Jon was wet enough to take his fingers easily, but he let out a sharp gasp as they slid in. Elias twisted his fingers in, coaxing another sound from Jon as he clenched around him. The slow pumping of Elias' fingers had him gasping, but it still wasn't enough. Jon needed more. "Elia- ahh," Jon cut off as Elias inserted another finger and rapidly increased the pace, this time nailing his g-spot exactly with his thrusts. Any words that Jon may have attempted to speak were now completely lost to moans and yelps.
"Good boy. You're so lovely for me Jon, taking my fingers so well," Elias murmured into his ear, soft and gentle as he viciously fucked him with his fingers, Jon felt a familiar wave of energy rising within him, but he knew from experience that he wouldn’t be able to come without attention to his clit.
Elias seemed to know this as well, seeing as his fingers avoided stroking anywhere near it. Jon let out a frustrated sound and Elias only laughed at him.
“Oh my dear, I’m nowhere near done with you. Not yet. No, you’ll simply have to wait,” he said, his voice dark with amusement and something else that made Jon’s chest feel tight and achy. He told himself it was out of fear and it wasn’t entirely a lie. It was at the moment that Elias removed his fingers, pulling a resentful whine from Jon in the process, and stopped touching him completely. Jon gasped, bereft, and blinked rapidly at him, trying to infuse the blinks with resentment and desperation, but he had little faith in the ability of his eyelashes to convey complex emotion. Elias laughed at him again, it was becoming a bit of a theme Jon noted irately, and tapped his fingers against Jon’s nose, leaving a damp spot of slick there.
“Elias,” Jon hissed at him, annoyed at how weak his voice already sounded. At how very affected he was by just a few of Elias’ fingers. Elias smiled at him, still looking almost entirely unbothered and turned to reach for something at his desk.
“Now, for your reward. We haven’t tried this before, but you’re a fast learner so I’m sure it won’t be too much for you. Do let me know if I’ve miscalculated. You know how I so value your input,” Elias told him in that clipped, professional voice that was so utterly inappropriate for the current occasion but that Jon, unfortunately, found very attractive. It was almost an automatic response at this point for Jon to sit up straighter and to look attentively to Elias to see what he had planned.
Elias turned back to him, but all of Jon’s attention was fixed on the blade held in his hand. It was an old, though seemingly well maintained , pocket knife with the initials ‘J.M.’ delicately carved into the side of it. Jon opened his mouth to ask, but it seemed that Elias had anticipated the question and was already speaking
“This knife was gifted to Jonah Magnus by a man named Jonathan Fanshawe. Jonah wanted Fanshawe to become his Archivist, but it didn’t quite work out. I thought it would be, let us say, thematically appropriate for today, hmm?”
Jon...wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel at this moment. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the blade. His mind was a turmoil of intrigue and sharp fear. His hand reached up to graze the still newly scarred cut on his neck. A cocktail of fear and lust surged through him and be allowed himself a moment to just feel . This was one of the things that Jon loved about doing this. He could just exist in his physical form. He could just...live and experience.
He took a deep breath and looked back at Elias who was watching him patiently with a cool gaze.
“What do you want me to do?” Jon asked.
Elias smiled at him once again and it was the absolute certainty in Elias’ expression that finally allowed to relax in his grip. He was safe here, in Elias’ arms, in a way he was so very rarely.
“On your knees,” Elias instructed, utterly confident that his orders would be followed, and Jon obeyed instantly, slipping off Elias’ lap and onto the ground below him. The floors were hardwood and he did not land lightly, but he relished in the slight ache.
Elias stared consideringly at him for a few heavy moments before nodding his approval. He stood up and walked slow circles around Jon’s kneeling form, the knife in his hand. Jon knew better than to do anything but kneel with his back straight and his eyes fixed strictly forward. He couldn’t stop the faint shiver of excitement? Fear? At this point, both were equally likely. Elias stopped in front of him during his third rotation. One of his hands fisted in the back of Jon’s hair, yanking his head up to meet his gaze. The other hand brought the knife up to eye level.
“Are you sure about this, Jonathan?” Elias asked him, holding the flat of the blade gently against Jon’s cheek. His face was still smooth and relaxed, but his gaze as it met Jon’s was heavy and considering.
“Yes,” Jon whispered, resisting the urge to turn his face into the sharp edge of the knife. Was he sure? He was certain that he wanted this. He wanted anything that would make Elias keep looking at him like that, with that intensity and fervour in his gaze. Like he was something precious and worth protecting. He would take this (not just take it, plead for it) if it would please Elias.
Elias made an unconvinced ‘hmm’ sound, of course he chose now when Jon was already bare and kneeling in front of him to get hesitant. Jon bit at his lip at the perceived rejection and reached up and tugged on his (still completely buttoned) dress shirt.
“Please?” he asked, not needed to fake or amplify the desperation already clear in his voice. Jon tried to meet Elias' gaze, knowing that his wide eyes looking up at Elias from under his mascaraed lashes was a very effective tool in getting him what he wanted, but he kept getting distracted by the glint of steel in his periphery. If Elias twisted his hand a little bit and added just a fraction of force, he could slice open Jon’s cheek. Or perhaps even his throat.
Eliask tsk-ed lightly at him and Jon retracted his hand, eyes snapping back to meet his. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, hmm?” he chided, moving the knife slowly down the curve of Jon’s cheek bones to slide along his jawline. Jon swallowed and struggled to keep his body completely still. The blade was cold and every instinct in Jon’s body yelled ‘danger!’ urging him to flinch away. Jon closed his eyes and focused on taking deep breaths in through his nose. Elias’ other hand came up to lightly stroke at the soft skin on the back of his nape.
“Shhh shh, my dear. This is going to hurt just a bit.”
The pain was sharp and instant and perfect. Jon gasped, the air filling his lungs seemingly not enough but also so much as to drown him. His eyes snapped open and they first looked upon Elias’ face. He was smiling still, but he was not looking into Jon’s eyes, forcing searing eye contact, as he normally was. Instead his gaze was fixated on Jon’s chest. Elias’ eyes on him burned more than the cut itself and Jon shivered, not unpleasantly, at the intensity and pain.
Jon looked down at his chest and he almost didn’t recognize his skin. A thin neat cut spanning a few inches. It seems so small for the amount of blood dripping down his chest. It reminds him of other cuts in skin that is his own but is now unrecognizable from him. A different time. A different Jon. This is...not like that. This is him in himself. This is Elias. This is a physical manifestation of the bond and the trust between Elias and him. This is Jon allowing Elias to hurt him because he knows Elias won’t in the way that matters. This is. Safe. He is safe here in Elias’s arms as Elias continues to paint his chest and back with crimson lines of blurry beautiful pain.
He is safe.