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Over the last few months, Jon has made no effort to conceal his adoration for Martin. After so long forced apart, they both agreed on collaboration, and to communicate anything and everything with each other to ensure total understanding.
Jon, of course, has a metaphorical leg up on understanding Martin, given he knows anything and everything, it seems. Martin is allowed his secrets, naturally, but in intense conversations, Jon’s power eases Martin a little, giving them both a way to communicate complex or embarrassing thoughts with zero verbal components.
Martin, however, is not blessed with the power of a knowledge god. Martin has to wait for Jon to communicate verbally and understand it on his own. He manages most of the time, only a few minor misunderstandings had occurred so far. Nothing of any lasting consequence.
They often talk sex after a few drinks to loosen Jon’s tongue and ease Martin’s mind. Neither of them would describe themselves as experts, though it seems after a few chats that Martin has engaged much more with sex in the past than Jon. Martin often veils his true intentions behind innuendo or implications when he communicates them, more out of awkwardness than shame. On the other hand, Jon remains perfectly direct.
Half a bottle of white wine sits beside a now empty glass of scotch on their coffee table. Martin slowly swirls the remaining wine in his glass around, like he is thinking hard about something. And he is.
Jon’s head lolls lazily to the side, his gaze falling gently on Martin. Neither of them moves for a good while. Martin’s eyes rest on a spot on the floor, he barely notices Jon’s gaze until he finishes the wine in his glass and turns to look at him.
Martin would recognise Jon’s ‘desperate to say something’ face anywhere, so he vaguely waves his hand as permission to speak.
Jon clears his throat first, adjusting his sitting position to straighten his posture. His hands fold themselves in his lap and his eyes lock firmly with Martin’s as he very softly but firmly says, “I want to eat you out.”
The intensity of the statement catches Martin a little off guard but he isn’t averse to the idea. Some of the best sex they’ve had involved Jon’s mouth on him in some way. Martin thinks it borders on fixation, the way Jon’s lips and teeth seek and suckle whatever they can find and if Martin gives Jon the go ahead to go down, Jon more than happily obliges. Martin gives Jon an approving little nod then rises from the sofa. Jon’s fingers catch his hand before he can leave.
“Love,” Jon begins softly, and Martin positively melts at the pet name. “I want you to sit on my face.”
Oh.
So that’s why he didn’t just come right out with it. In the past, Martin has downright refused the request. He’s too big and Jon’s too small. He doesn’t like to lie on top of him when they cuddle, let alone suffocating his beloved with his genitals. But Jon sounds so sure.
Martin has applied the three requests rule to other sexual activities before. If he’s unsure but only because he’s not entirely confident, he allows himself to deny Jon twice. But, on the third request, he forces himself to really consider it beyond his initial reactions. What is he actually concerned about? What could go wrong? What’s the worst case scenario?
Of course, if he still doesn’t want to, they won’t. Simple as that. But if Martin decides he could probably give it a go, they give it a go.
Only a month ago Jon had requested for the first time that they try a spreader bar. That was about as kinky as it got for them (besides the cowprint lingerie which lives in a box under the bed, so far unused but Martin knows that Jon is hopeful). Martin had been worried that it would be uncomfortable, it would bruise him, he wouldn’t really feel like he had full autonomy. But Jon asked for a third time and Martin supposed he could give it a go.
And he loved it.
Almost every time Jon’s eager hands guide him to their bedroom now, Martin considers if the bar could be involved. Despite his initial concerns, he had actually enjoyed being at Jon’s mercy and not needing to worry about what to do with his arms, his hands, anything. Maybe this would be the same…
This is the third time Jon has brought this up. It was the first sexual thing he ever suggested they did, and Martin denied him based on how intense it would be. They’d stuck to hand-stuff for the first time. Then, after eating Martin out in various positions over the course of a few weeks, Jon had asked again. And Martin had denied him again.
Now he really considered it. Genuinely, what was the worst that would happen? They got carried away and Jon needed to tap out to take a breather. Martin wouldn’t kill him, he knew that. They’d be sensible. Have codes in place, surely. What could truly be so scary about it?
Martin’s mouth straightens into a line as he sighs then gives an affirmative nod. “We need to have a talk first though. Just… Just to make sure” he says, and Jon breaks into a wide grin.
In no time, they have their procedures in place and Jon has made some special requests. Since the best night they ever had was when Martin was in comfy lingerie and there had been minor elements of role play, Jon has decided to finally reveal the box under their bed to Martin.
Martin has known about it for a week or so, having found it while hoovering and he’d taken a quick peek at the time, but nothing could prepare him for what he was faced with when Jon lifted the lid fully from the box. It wasn’t just the lingerie. It was a frilly choker, cuffs for his wrists which could be connected by a chain, nipple clamps, a new vibrator.
It must have cost a fortune.
“I know that you like the cows here,” Jon begins softly, “and I know that you enjoyed some elements of bondage before. I know we’re already going to do something you’re anxious about but I thought maybe we could combine it with some stuff we know you like… and maybe that’ll help?”
Martin finds himself lost for words, examining every item in that little box. It doesn’t seem like one of those cow fetish costumes with a comically large bell for around his neck or any kind of equipment for milking, which he’d heard of before. Just tasteful, high quality, brand new clothes and toys.
“I think… the best thing to do is for me to get dressed alone- I know you want to watch but I’m going to kick you out. I’ll put on everything I want, leave anything I don’t, then you can come back and we can see how it all goes, alright?” Martin suggests, hand raising to Jon’s cheek to gently caress it as his love nods, albeit reluctantly. “Before you go, I think I’ll be in the zone when you come back in. I’m guessing you want me facing you? Like.. you don’t want my arse on your forehead…” Martin asks.
Jon seems like he hasn’t fully considered it, taking a moment to stare pensively before answering, “I think that would be best.” Martin begins to nod and move to usher Jon out, but Jon takes his hands quickly. “Darling,” he begins with a small smile. “When I say sit… I mean sit. Not perch, not hover. Sit. I’ll tap you if I need a breather but I… I want to be your chair, my love… is that alright?”
Words evade Martin. He has nothing. His cheeks are flushed hotter than the hells and his eyes are wide with anticipation and lust. He steels himself, gives a firm final nod, then physically pushes Jon out of the room with the final quip, “No peeking!” as the door closes.
The room is so silent for a moment. He’s going to do this. They’re going to do this. Martin is going to get dressed up and cuff and clamp himself and Jon is going to ravage his pussy with his tongue. Awesome.
A dark thought crosses Martin’s mind and he is once again forced to reckon with the logistics of this activity. He could get the bar. Use it to force his own legs open and give Jon the full access he needs. But… is part of the appeal the suffocation? The thighs around his head, the squeezing of his knees?
Martin rolls his eyes and sighs heavily then cracks the door open. “Jon?” he calls out, and is acknowledged with a hum from the kitchen. “Do you want me to crush your head with my thighs or no?” he asks again.
The reply is almost immediate. “Not tonight, darling, maybe in another position? You know I love it, but let’s maybe not be so intense this time,” Jon replies, and Martin is happy with that answer. The bar it is. Jon’s in for a nice surprise.
He strips fully before putting anything new on, if only to admire his body for a moment. He’s full around his chest and hips and thighs but not in a way which feels unbalanced. He doesn’t need a binder since top surgery, which feels wonderful. He examines those twin scars for a moment, sliding a finger along each of them. He has enough fat and muscle left over to give him a nice big-guy chest but not so much that it’s at all uncomfortable to look at.
Martin shuffles his leg to the side and dips two fingers down, gently pulling apart his lips to take a good look at his dick. It’s always been modest but bottom growth did wonders for his confidence when he first started hormones, so he enjoyed just taking a look every once in a while. Curiosity and satisfaction. Nothing more.
Martin’s eyes sweep over the contents of the box a final time as he carefully unpacks each item to be absolutely sure. Lingerie top, lingerie bottoms, in cow print. Two nipple clamps. In total, four cuffs with two chains to connect them in pairs. Wrists and ankles, he guesses. A decorative choker, not like a dog’s collar but more fashionable, a strip of ribbon with lace frills above and below to form a flattering shape. He’s added the spreader bar to the little pile himself. And the new vibrator. At least Martin thinks it’s a vibrator…
A sleek black thing, it’s shaped almost like a cactus, with a longer and thicker central piece, accompanied by a branch off one side. The little branch bulbs out, and Martin can see a decently sized cavern, though he can’t figure out what it’s for, exactly. He should know, but he’s simply never seen this contraption before.
No harm figuring it out before they get started for the evening, surely?
Once Martin has added some lube to the toy and is resting on his back on their bed, he slips the main head of the toy into himself with no issues. There are buttons facing the same way as the branch which sticks off so he assumes that’s the front-
Ah.
Martin presses the power button on the toy and watches a flashing standby red light turn itself on. His fingers nimbly adjust the branch of the toy so his now swollen clit rests inside the cavern. There’s only one other button to press. It clicks softly, there’s a beat, then everything is wonderful.
The opening for his clit, he quickly learns, has a suction function. It latches around him and begins to suckle with abandon, almost ruthlessly. Inside him, the rest of the toy vibrates and pulses then begins to thrust inside of him. It must only be another inch or so which the thing extends but it brushes against that wonderful spot and Martin finds himself momentarily paralysed by the pleasure.
He doesn’t think he actually needs to hold the thing but he needs to keep some kind of control. Deep inside him, his G-spot is caressed over and over again, vibrations spread pleasantly from his hole, and that little cavern sucks him silly.
It’s warm and fast but not a brutal pace at all. The toy feels like an attentive lover, whose entire focus is appeasement and pleasure. Martin wonders if he presses the button which started it up again…
Oh yes.
That’s much better. The suction around his clit increases just enough, the vibrations of the toy increase by a minor increment, and the pulsing thrusts of the toy speed up perfectly. Perfect. This is perfect.
Martin finds himself grinding on the toy, desperate for these sensations to bring on his orgasm just so he knows what it’ll feel like. Then he can get on with Jon’s surprise.
The surprise… Why not?
He’s attached the spreader bar around his knees in no time. Thank god he’d gotten it out along with everything else. As suspected, the toy stays put while his shaking hands attach the straps around himself. He always finds his orgasms more intense when his legs are open anyway.
This time is no different. Fire builds up in Martin’s belly, he’s never been too vocal or wriggly during an orgasm but now he clasps his free hand over his mouth, writhing and squirming in vain against the spreader bar as his orgasm rips through him with the force of a hurricane wind. His hand holding the vibrator is wet…
He’d squirted. He’s never done it before, he didn’t think he could, he didn’t think it was possible. But this thing, this wonderful device, has grabbed it from deep within him and yanked it out.
Martin can feel his mind numbing and breaking by the second. He’s losing his vision and seeing stars, his hands are shaking properly now, his back remains arched above the mattress as he writhes and his thighs begin to tremble.
His thumb finds the power button and the toy instantly halts. He’s panting, sweating, shaking, he never wants to move again and he just wants Jon to come lick up his mess like this. But they have an agreement. And Martin is a good boy.
That thought only adds to the tingles as Martin frees himself first from the bar, then slides the toy from within himself and quickly rinses it in their en-suite sink before just leaving it there to be properly cleansed later. He’s on the ropes about whether to admit what he’s done or allow Jon to live with the knowledge of having watched him do it from another room without explicit consent.
While he’s in the bathroom, Martin also quickly wipes between his legs so he isn’t already drenched and Jon won’t drown. He doesn’t want to ruin the new underwear so quickly.
He scans the pile a final time before deciding to leave the nipple clamps for another time. The cuffs can wait too. The underwear and the accessories and the bar will be enough for today.
The panties fit him wonderfully, pretty much a thong, covering Martin’s front but becoming thinner in the back between his arsecheeks. He turns to examine himself in the mirror and notices how nicely his arse jiggles in them. It’ll be bruised and scratched in no time, he’s sure. There’s a reason Jon likes thongs for him instead of boxers. He just wants to grab handfuls of cake, as it were.
The top also fits perfectly, holding Martin’s chest in a very flattering way. It’s more like a sports bra in shape than stereotypical costume bras which only have little triangles of fabric to cover the nipples. It genuinely supports his chest and feels nice to wear.
The choker, he’s less sure about, but he knows about Jon’s protective streak. He’s very possessive after living without his Martin for so long. Nobody else will have him. Of course Peter can’t reach Martin now that he’s gone but… thoughts of him still do. Images of hands and teeth and lips which Martin knows are miles away from finding him, but they feel so close sometimes. As he adjusts the choker to sit snugly around his neck, he reminds himself who he belongs to now. He’s Jon’s. And Jon doesn’t share.
The finishing touch is the spreader bar. Martin sets the bar itself to an agreeable length, not so wide that he’s doing the splits but wide enough that his lips separate and no doubt expose his clit and hole entirely, should the fabric of his thong be shifted just slightly. He kneels on their mattress, preparing a pillow for Jon to lie against, and he hovers while he gathers his breath then calls, “Ready!” from behind the closed door.
He hears excited, scampering footsteps, then the door swings open. Jon is practically salivating. Martin has set the bar between his calves to allow himself to kneel comfortably, and so it can rest lightly on Jon’s chest while they’re engaged, instead of it obstructing his… dessert, Martin supposes it is.
For cleanliness, Jon slips his shirt off over his head and Martin stares for a moment at his chest hair. He’s always wondered what it would feel like to grind on various parts of Jon’s body. Maybe he’ll ask one day. But for now, Jon is assuming his position, tucking his hair out of the way before encouraging Martin to come closer.
Martin sets a knee either side of Jon’s head, cushioned by the pillow. The bar rests comfortably on Jon’s chest, sitting firmly between Martin’s lower calves to keep his legs as firmly apart as possible.
Jon’s eyes wander over Martin with the same reverence as a man would award a deity. His fingertips spread lightly over the curves and dips of Martin’s thighs then hips then down and round to his arse, where he gives Martin an encouraging squeeze.
Martin parts his lips to ask if Jon is alright, to ask if this is okay. Jon shushes him softly before he can utter a sound and gives Martin the smile of a man who, if he is to die, will do so proudly and with honour. “I’ll tap you if it’s too much” he whispers, then rests his head down and slides a hand away from Martin’s flesh to simply push the fabric of his panties aside. He’s always liked just pushing Martin’s underwear away to give himself access. Hand stuff, penetration, oral, Martin thinks it makes him feel scandalous.
They exchange a final look of enthusiasm before Martin lowers his hips, finding Jon’s nose and mouth, and lets himself gradually relax more and more as he sits, exactly like Jon had asked.
To his surprise, Jon is not immediately crushed. To even more of his surprise, Jon’s tongue begins to instantly and eagerly lap at Martin’s folds to probe and taste and relish.
Martin thinks that Jon sees oral as a form of worship. Especially in this position. Surrendering his air supply, possibly his life, to Martin. It gives him no direct pleasure. This is all for his Martin.
Jon releases a low, hungry moan against Martin’s skin as he adjusts his head and slowly laps over Martin’s clit, providing kitten licks before more dedicated mouthing before entirely focusing his attention on suckling.
Given the function of the toy, Martin’s clit is already swollen and sensitive. Jon’s sucking paired with teasing the underside of the nub with his tongue soaks Martin thoroughly again in no time.
Jon shifts his attention back and forth, from shoving his tongue deep in Martin’s hole to nosing and mouthing at his clit. All the while, Jon’s hands encourage Martin along. His palms slide over his arse and thighs, one glides up to encourage Martin to arch his back while the other reaches for the bar and gently tugs it in a rhythm. Martin groans out loudly as he is encouraged to rock his hips against Jon’s face, every sensation is wonderful. His warm, thick tongue, not only gliding over him and teasing his clit but also fucking into him occasionally, accompanied by ridiculously lewd noises. Martin relishes the light scratch of Jon’s scruff against his inner thighs, the shape of his nose which bumps against his clit as his tongue probes deeper. He still worries for Jon’s air supply, but he hasn’t been tapped yet.
While the toy had been a sudden intense onslaught of pleasure, Jon’s mouth works Martin more gradually but achieves the same intensity. Martin wants to squeeze his thighs around Jon’s head. He wants Jon to know that he’s coming.
Jon knows. Of course he knows. He also knows that Martin loves to be toyed with. As soon as Martin’s orgasm begins to build in earnest, Jon’s hands rub and circle the flesh of Martin’s arse then he rakes his nails over the skin, no doubt leaving behind minuscule red lines. The tingle of pain now mixed in with the pleasure only makes it more delicious.
Martin catches himself as he loses it a little and falls forward, hands resting on the mattress to keep himself up as he begins to grind firmly against Jon’s face. Little moans and whimpers escape his throat as Jon’s tongue positively plays with the underside of his clit, the most sensitive part of his anatomy by far. With a final suck and vibration-inducing moan from Jon, it’s over.
Martin doesn’t quite know how to signal to Jon that he’s coming. It’s never really been a big affair, just the tensing of his muscles and quickening of his breath. Until the toy of course…
Once the sensation has passed him, Martin lifts his hips from Jon’s face and sees him bleary eyed but blissful. His chin scruff is coated thoroughly in fluid. Too much fluid…
Jon licks his lips and stares at Martin devilishly. “I’ve never gotten you to squirt before” he whispers with an air of palpable pride.
Martin bashfully turns his face away, still softly panting as the final ripples of his orgasm fade. “Breathe, for fuck’s sake, Jon,” he mutters, entirely avoiding the topic.
Jon does obediently take a few deep gaps of air to get his breath back, then he tips his head to the side mischievously. “Well… was it alright for you darling-?” He bursts into laughter and raises his hands as Martin playfully reaches out to flick his ear with a muttered “Fuck you.”
Jon truly looks proud, it gleams in his eyes as he rests them on his Martin. Then he keeps speaking. “Wonderful. So… we know that works well. How’s about next time you turn around, face my legs, and I’ll undress too? You know I love your hands… Or… there’s a position we haven’t tried, it’s still technically sixty nining but we’d lay you down on your back and I’d eat you out while I grind into your mouth?”
The direct lewdness of Jon’s words stuns Martin to silence for a while. It baffles him how plain Jon can be with his language. He considers the proposal for a moment before giving a hum of agreement. “Doesn’t sound like I’d be doing much though. Just you using my mouth and rewarding me?” he asks softly, to clarify, though his tone holds no reservation. That actually sounds wonderful.
Jon’s eyes gleam with something else now. It’s devilish and cunning, and Martin doesn’t fear it one bit. “When you put it like that it sounds like you’re asking me to tie you up and spread you apart and use you? It doesn’t have to be my mouth which rewards you, darling… How was your new toy?” he asks innocently, and Martin scoffs, providing no further response.
Jon can only snort out a laugh for a moment as he sits up. “Well… I need to wash my face. You need a full shower… or would you prefer a bath?”
“Oh, shower. Too tired for a bath,” Martin grumbles and removes the choker from around his neck. “Just… need to get to sleep but not be gross.”
Jon takes Martin’s hand and presses his lips gently to his knuckles. “We can do that.”