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There’s a lot about Jon’s current life that he would not have believed possible six months ago. It’s been a rollercoaster of mistakes, trauma and the horrible discovery of just how real the paranormal is.
And yet, Jon has a hunch that the thing that would be the most strange to his past self is his relationship with Elias.
The flog stings sharp against the backs of Jon’s thighs four times in quick succession. He whimpers, teeth scraping against the ball gag in his aching mouth.
He shudders, spine arching further where his chest meets the mattress. His knees shake with the effort of keeping his hips high off the mattress as they had discussed before the scene started. This is far from his first time submitting to Elias, and he knows all too well he will be punished if he collapses before he’s taken his flogging.
He might end up punishing Jon anyway. He’s antsy today, unable to relax. Normally by the time he’s gagged and bound, he’s at least mostly into sub space. Today his mind is racing and he keeps squirming. Elias doesn’t like it when he wriggles about too much.
From this position Jon can’t see his face, but he can feel Elias watching him. Jon imagines his expression: undoubtedly that look of cold, intense scrutiny that he seems to survey everyone with. As a dominant, Elias is as he is in all things. He works Jon’s body over with a cutthroat indifference that only a man like him can.
Jon will take whatever Elias thinks he deserves. He probably deserves something worse, in fact.
Elias strikes him higher this time, snapping Jon out of his thoughts. He whines around the rubber in his mouth. Elias traces over the mark with the thin leather strands of the flog. Jon’s skin prickles into full body goosebumps. It’s painful, but Jon’s more than earned it after every awful thing he’s done, everyone he’s pushed away or let get hurt.
The next volley of hits makes Jon drool around his gag. His rhythm feels different, catching Jon a little off guard. If Elias were anyone else, Jon would think he was hesitating. But this is Elias - Jon’s never seen him show remorse for inflicting this on him. And why would he? Jon’s sure he’s not capable of it - and even if he were, Jon doesn’t deserve it.
They’re both monsters, in their own ways.
Jon waits for his next strike, suppressing a shiver. His aching muscles tense as he braces for it.
Behind him, he hears Elias take a slow, deep breath.
Jon forces himself to relax - Elias must have noticed. He’s not allowed to tense up like that.
The mattress shifts again, and Jon jumps reflexively as a hand touches his calf. He frowns a little, glancing up. He can’t see anything but the pillows and his wrists handcuffed in front of him.
He feels Elias climb off the mattress and makes a small noise of confusion into the gag. Is he getting a different tool for the rest of Jon’s punishment? The paddle, maybe?
Jon waits for clarification, to be told in that cool, disappointed tone what he’s done wrong.
But - no - Elias doesn’t speak.
He reaches for Jon’s wrists now, carefully undoing the handcuffs. Jon frowns - are his hands shaking? No, that’s ridiculous, he’s never seen Elias so much as fluster during a scene. Jon doesn't move as his wrists are unbound, besides flexing his hands a couple of times. He waits for that smooth, unwavering voice to issue its next instructions.
Elias doesn’t say a word as he unbuckles the gag from Jon’s mouth. Jon lets him remove it, now genuinely confused. He risks sitting up then and turns to look at Elias.
There has always been an intensity in how Elias has watched him. Long since before their current relationship started, even before Jon knew Elias had anything beyond academic connections to the paranormal. It didn’t matter if there were other people in the room - Jon would always feel Elias gazing into his soul. In a scene that feeling of scrutiny was more intense than ever.
Which made it even stranger now when Jon sees Elias is staring down at the ball gag in his hands. His grey eyes seem dull and glassy in a way Jon has never seen before. He barely even blinks.
Elias places the gag on the bedside cabinet, then gives Jon a clinical once over without meeting his eyes.
“Good, Jon. Well done.” It’s the kind of genuine praise that makes Jon’s body go limp at the end of an intense session - but they’re still part way through, aren’t they? “Sorry - I need a moment. Just - stay there and rest?”
The tone of firm instruction is gone, replaced by almost something uncertain, closer to a question than a command. Jon’s jaw aches as he opens it to ask for clarification, but Elias hushes him gently. He strokes a hand over Jon’s hair a couple of times then turns and walks out the room.
Jon is not completely sure what just happened.
He feels strange and a little unmoored from his sore body where he’s sat kneeling on Elias’ bed. The room is utterly silent except from the muffled roar of the ever present London traffic. He’s spent the last hour trying to let go of his thoughts and it’s hard to suddenly need to make a choice. Take initiative, Elias had once told him in a performance review. Stay there, he had told Jon thirty seconds ago.
Something clearly wasn’t right. Elias had never walked out mid scene before. More strangely, Jon realised, he had never once in the years that they had known each other avoided meeting Jon’s eyes before.
It takes a couple of tries to get his legs to cooperate with him enough to stand, let alone walk. His thighs burn as he walks down the stairs slowly, putting as much of his body weight as he dares on the original wooden bannister.
Jon finds him in the kitchen, hands pressed flat on the countertop either side of the sink. He’s breathing slowly, deeply, with all the focus of someone struggling to maintain control over their body.
“-Lias?” he manages. His tongue still feels strange in his mouth without the gag. Elias doesn’t look up. He just shakes his head and keeps breathing.
Jon steps into the kitchen. The tiles are cold against his bare feet in a way that the hardwood of the hallway isn’t.
Once, when Jon was fifteen and skiving off a P.E. lesson, he’d stumbled across his maths teacher around the back of the building. She was the kind of teacher who was always strict and never had a hair out of place. Except she did then. There was a strand falling over her red, damp eyes. She had an unlit cigarette in one hand. He’d felt confused and a little horrified seeing her like that.
He feels the same way as he approaches Elias.
As much as their relationship has radically changed lately, Elias has not. Sure, Jon had learnt he was a servant of an eldritch fear god, but he’s always been, well, Elias. Always well dressed, well prepared, never surprised or showing much of any feeling more than vague amusement or annoyance.
Jon doesn’t like seeing that man hunched over the sink, eyes glassy and skin pale. He looks unwell.
He looks human.
“Are you alright?” Jon asks. He really, truly doesn’t mean to put any compulsion behind the words.
Elias’ measured breathing hitches and he shudders as he bites out a short “No.”
“Shit - I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-” Jon fumbles, but Elias waves him off. He rubs a hand against his face and then finally turns to look at Jon. He looks exhausted.
Between work and the thing that they both serve and their dom-sub relationship, their relationship has grown intimate. Not in the romantic or sexual way most people associate that word with - but there’s a thread of tension that seems to connect the two of them, and reels Jon in closer each day.
Or maybe it’s not as intimate as Jon thinks, after all.
He considers it. There’s really still very little he knows about Elias. He’s always been sort of stoic, even when he’s being threatened or taking Jon to pieces.
It makes it all the more unsettling to see him like this. For all he knows he probably should be glad to see Elias’ control break, it feels wrong.
Jon bites the inside of his cheek and thinks for a minute. Then, almost shyly, he opens his arms to offer a hug. He feels more than a little silly, standing naked with his arms out in the middle of a very nice kitchen.
Then Elias steps into his arms and maybe that doesn’t matter quite so much anymore.
It's not the best hug in the world. Jon’s backside is getting cold and they’re both riddled with tension. Neither of those things seem important. Jon brings one arm up to rub gentle circles against Elias’ back like he’s done for Jon after a particularly intense scene before.
Slowly, inch by inch, Elias’ fingers relax, then his arms, until his whole body is lax against Jon. He realises that he’s never truly seen Elias relaxed before. Even when he’s been laying in bed, or sprawled in his office chair staring down at Jon as he kneels, there’s always been an underlying sense that, like a cat, he could spring up and pounce if he needed to.
“You think very loudly,” Elias murmurs. Jon feels himself flush. Elias’ hand twitches where it's wrapped around Jon’s left hip “And your thoughts are usually not the kindest, Jon. Towards either of us.”
“Ah,” Jon breathes. He thinks back to all the times he’s let himself get lost in that dark part of his mind that tells him he deserves to be hurt, or that he needs to be controlled because he’s dangerous. And about how he can let Elias be the one to do it, because Elias is - well. Not a good person.
And maybe that is true - neither of them have any illusions of that - but perhaps, Jon realises, he had forgotten that Elias was a person at all. That underneath the knowing looks and pressed collars and the dexterous hands, Elias was just a man. Perhaps, even near omniscience wasn’t enough to feel constantly self assured.
“I know you think I’m an indestructible, unfeeling bastard,” Elias says quietly. Jon winces sympathetically at how raw his voice sounds. “But you really do give me too much credit.”
Jon doesn’t reply. He’s never been any good with talking about - relationships, he supposes. He just keeps rubbing circles against Elias’ back. He allows himself to take a deep breath of Elias’ cologne. He doesn’t know when that smell started making him feel safe.
Jon knows what Elias is and what he’s done. He knows what the others would say if they could see him now.
Despite all of that, he also knows he’s been in denial. It’s just easier to pretend that he’s not in control here, that he fell into this relationship unawares. It doesn’t matter that he’s the one who dictates the terms of their scenes or that it’s always him who initiates, or that if he left, he knows Elias would let him go.
He ignores all those things, because if he acknowledges them, he has to accept that he likes what they do together.
Jon gently squeezes his arms around Elias, who sags into his arms. Jon thinks perhaps it's time that he accepts the truth.
He chose this. He chose Elias.
Jon shivers. The kitchen is cold on his bare skin even with their bodies pressed together. Everything from his knees to shoulder blades is protesting at him to sit down.
It doesn’t matter at the moment though. Elias always knows what Jon needs, even when Jon can’t bring himself to ask out loud. Jon may not be able to read minds, but perhaps it’s time he at least tries to repay the favour.
“Is, ah, there anything I can do to help?” He asks shyly.
Elias noses into Jon’s hair and breathes in deeply. A bit more tension seeps out of him. Jon flushes at the thought that his scent might be a comfort.
“You already are,” he replies, voice muffled by Jon’s hair. Then, in a voice that’s quiet and sheepish in a way Jon’s never heard from him before: “Can we stay like this for a while?”
“Of course but - would you mind if we moved to the living room?” It’s rather cold in the kitchen and Jon is still completely naked. Elias huffs a laugh as he nods and pulls back.
He looks absolutely shattered. Jon’s never seen him so exhausted. Elias offers him a small, bashful smile. As he pulls away, Jon catches his hand. Elias looks a little surprised. Jon blushes. He knows he likes a lot of physical contact after dropping so… maybe it would be nice for Elias too?
If Elias is reading his thoughts, he doesn’t let it show other than a squeeze of his fingers. They walk silently hand in hand to the living room.
Jon winces a little when he has to bend down to sit. His whole body aches. It’s a good sort of ache, bringing the deep satisfaction of a body well exercised. Elias sits beside him, almost awkwardly. His hand twitches in Jon’s.
Jon’s never had to take the initiative for aftercare before. One of the perks of having a partner that can read your mind is that after a scene, Elias always knows what he needs.
There’s a lump forming in his throat. Guilt is a familiar sensation.
Jon gets himself settled on the sofa, and opens his arms. Elias looks a little shy. It’s strange but not in a bad way. After a moment longer, Elias lets himself clamber into Jon’s arms with none of his usual grace.
They’ve cuddled before but never like this - with Jon’s arms wrapped protectively around his Elias. The expensive sofa is easy to sink into. Elias’ weight against him is warm and grounding. Jon thinks maybe he could get used to this - not just servicing Elias as a submissive but looking after him.
“Do you uh, want to talk about it?” Jon asks hesitantly. Elias sighs, tenses up a little in Jon’s arms.
“I don’t like being vulnerable, Jon,” he says in a wry, almost self deprecating tone. Then, more gently, “I think I would have an easier time if you compelled me. If you’re amicable.”
Jon swallows. He’s been trying not to compel people but if Elias has given him his blessing…
Jon lets the feeling of static crawl up his throat. “Why did you stop?” Elias shudders, his muscles tightening and his spine arching ever so slightly against Jon.
“Because I’m a person, Jon,” he says, voice raspy from suppressed emotion. “I will never claim to be a good one, but I am just as human as you are.
“The institute is my life’s work. Everyday I make sure things are running smoothly and kissing up to monsters who wouldn’t care if I died so we can keep the lights on. All whilst managing threats from other powers and my own employees trying to kill me.” Jon winces at that, but keeps his mouth shut.
“Everyday I do that. Then I come home to an empty house and I cook dinner and I fold the bloody laundry and I spend hours figuring out how to safely dole out whatever punishment you need to stop yourself from completely self destructing.
“And of course I enjoy it, I won’t deny that. But it’s not just about sadism or the power trip. I have plenty of avenues to satisfy those desires. I wouldn’t have allowed our relationship to become this if it was just about that.
“What you don’t seem to realise is this is the closest thing to a real connection I have, and the whole time I can hear you thinking about how I don’t care .”
The tension in Elias goes slack as the compulsion passes. His head rolls forwards so that his forehead is pressing into Jon’s neck. Jon can feel his breath ghosting along the skin there.
Jon can feel Elias’ muscles tighten up again. He clears his throat. If he were wearing a tie, Jon knows this is where he’d straighten the knot.
He makes to sit up, but Jon doesn’t let him. Instead Jon tightens his grip, pulling Elias into a proper hug, the kind where it’s a little hard to breathe.
It’s hard to reconcile this vulnerability with what he knows Elias is - what he’s done.
Even when their relationship had become intimate, Elias’ capacity for violence and ironclad self control was not new to Jon. Jon knows he’s hurt plenty more - and not just in the risk aware kinky way. Elias is a murderer , and it’s not exactly like Jon can forget that.
It’s far easier to forget that underneath Elias’ carefully constructed persona, he has feelings. It’s easier to forget that these things happen on Jon’s terms. It’s easier to forget that it’s not Elias who has the safeword if he ever can’t take it anymore.
Jon remembers his surprise birthday party, before everything went to shit. Elias had come down to the basement, sat and laughed and ate cake with them.
At one point, a little bit of chocolate frosting had ended up smeared on his perfectly crisp white shirt, and Jon had just stared for a while. It was the first time he saw Elias look anything less than immaculate. Elias had followed Jon’s gaze to that small imperfection and smiled, sheepish and conspiratorial.
In the present, Elias’ lips twist into something far more like a grimace than a smile.
“All the messy little human things… they tend to spoil the fantasy don’t they?” Elias says. It’s hard to place his tone. He sounds almost angry, but it’s hard to tell if it’s with himself or Jon. Maybe it’s a bit of both.
“No! No, Elias,” Jon protests reflexively. Then he stops, pauses, and really thinks.
He knows he’s always been drawn to submission, and that he’s always been a bit of a masochist. But those traits hadn’t made being actually kidnapped or having worms dig out of his skin with a corkscrew any more enjoyable.
Slowly, more thoughtfully, he continues. “I’ve… spent a lot of time up close and personal with things that want me dead lately. I trust you because you’re not actually one of them. I know you’ve done some - terrible things, but…”
Guilt churns in Jon’s gut. After everything, he’s still scared to say it out loud. The fear of judgement, of being seen, crackles in the air between them. If Elias had bared his soul, it’s only fair Jon returns the favour, right?
“I - I don’t think I really care about that. I mean, I know I should, and I’m definitely not happy about it but… Clearly you being a murderer or a servant to an eldritch deity doesn’t bother me enough to push you away.” Jon bites the inside of his cheek, caught between the fear and relief of saying it out loud letting himself be seen. “Maybe I’ve just been too afraid to admit that to myself.”
“What does it say about you that you want to be with a man like myself?” Elias offers, tired but understanding. Jon nods once.
Elias starts to wiggle and twist in his arms, and this time Jon loosens his grip. Elias turns to look at him once again. He cups Jon’s chin with a hand, and guides him to meet his eyes. His grey eyes have regained their intensity, but there’s something soft there too. Jon feels like he can finally relax.
“I don’t blame you for struggling with your conscience, Jon. The path we’re on is not an easy one.”
“I know but still, I- I owe you an apology. It was easier to ignore the fact that you’re more than just…”
“A cruel unfeeling bastard?” Elias offers.
“I was going to say my evil fantasy dom, but that works too,” Jon says with a laugh. Then he sobers and gently leans forwards to press their foreheads together. “I’m sorry, Elias. I know how much work you put into - not just our scenes but everything. Thank you. Really. I’m uh, not sure I could have dealt with everything without this.”
Elias is his only real connection too. He’s isolated from his coworkers and the few friends and family he has left. But it’s more than that - Elias makes him feel secure. Safe and seen and not so horribly out of control of himself.
Jon leans forward tentatively and presses a peck to Elias’ cheek.
They’ve never actually kissed before. Elias’ skin is soft, Jon discovers. It makes Jon’s stomach all kinds of giddy. When he pulls back, Elias looks back at him. Jon’s pleased to see the faintest hint of pink in his cheeks.
“…Thank you, Jon. I think even I forget that I need a little positive feedback sometimes.” His lips curl into a small smile. It makes the crows feet around his grey eyes deepen.
Jon manages a wobbly smile of his own. “Overdue a performance review, Mr Bouchard?”
Elias actually laughs at that. It’s a lovely, rich sound that Jon can feel reverberate through Elias’ chest and into his own.
“I suppose I must be, Mr Sims.”
Elias settles back down against Jon. Jon pulls the blanket off the back of the sofa and drapes it over them both. Later they’ll shower together. Elias will massage Jon’s aching muscles and Jon will thank him for taking care of him. Then Jon will insist on making them both dinner even if he’s limping a little, and Elias will wash the dishes.
For now though, warm and comfortable in each other’s embrace, they both close their eyes and allow themselves to drift.