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Recovering from the Lonely had been… strange.
Martin supposed it was going to be a while before he fully remembered how to be himself - sometimes, his very skin seemed to itch as long-forgotten feelings settled back inside him. It was a lot, stepping into those familiar ruts again and simply… continuing. But there was no other way. Life went on.
There were the easier days, when the waves hitting him carried relief in the form of warm love, utter peace, or deep contentment. And then there were the harder ones - filled with sadness, or anger, or grief, mostly. Or just pure, pointless frustration.
Today, Martin was so frustrated he could cry. At breakfast, he had managed to push it down, hoping it would simply pass. After, it had begun to become a problem. By noon, he had announced to Jon that he was going outside to chop more logs for the fireplace. This, perhaps, might help him get that Gordian knot of nerves out of his system.
It didn't, in the end; not entirely. Whatever frustration he got rid of through the exercise came back in each slightly imprecise cut, or in the uncomfortable heat of his body, or the rough texture of the ax's handle on his palms. He gave up not too long after, feeling (infuriatingly) neither better nor worse than when he'd begun. At least he had something to show for it. Whatever it even was in this case.
With an armful of logs, he elbowed the cabin door, trying to think of what else he could do to help himself at least a little.
A chunk of wood on top of the pile wobbled dangerously as he leaned against the door to close it.
"Shit-"
It tumbled down, falling with a loud thud. Martin could honestly start kicking it into the tired floorboards.
"God- Fuck."
"Are you okay?" he heard Jon ask from somewhere deeper inside the cabin. Light footsteps followed, and he came into view a second later; the furrow between his brows smoothened when he assessed the situation. He walked up to Martin to pick up the log he'd dropped.
"Yes, I'm just- Thanks-" Martin huffed. "It's nothing- I mean, I'm just pissed off for no reason again," he explained. "If I could rip my guts out right now to get rid of the feeling, I would."
Jon frowned again, sending him a closer look.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Thank you, I- I'm just going to take a shower," Martin replied, quickly. He was still too irritated to talk; Jon didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of this.
"All right." His eyes remained on Martin, soft but intense at the same time - it was a very Jon way to look at him. "Will you want some tea when you come back?"
The question pierced through at least some part of the concrete wall of anger.
"I… Yeah. Yes. Thank you. I'll be right back."
A little time off didn't help much, and the cool shower didn't, either; but little by little, the traces of peace accumulated. When Martin came downstairs to Jon finishing their teas in the kitchen, he at least felt like he was capable of having a normal conversation.
"Better?" Jon greeted him with.
Martin stood next to him, leaning against the counter. He brushed Jon's hand with his own.
"I don't know," he said, honestly, though he also made himself smile in reply. "But thank you, Jon."
"Of course."
He looked at Martin like he was expecting him to say more. And actually… Actually, Martin realised that he did want to.
"It's just such bullshit, you know," he began, eventually. It almost came out with a laugh.
"I know."
"I want to- To rest. To for once be with you and with myself in peace, not…" A frustrated sigh burst from his mouth. "And it's- You know, I know it's normal or good, even, that I feel this, or whatever, I don't- give a shit, just… Fuck this, honestly." With another sigh, he rested his forehead on Jon's shoulder.
Warm hands lay on his arms in reply; his own travelled to Jon's elbows.
…It was a tiny bit easier here, in the dark behind his closed eyes, within Jon's reassuring embrace.
"I'm sorry," Jon repeated, whispering into his ear. "I mean- Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm really glad to see you feel this much, after… After everything," he added. "I'm just sorry it's- It's all the unpleasant things too."
"Yeah," was all Martin could say. He sighed into Jon's collarbone. "Thank you for not throwing me out of the house, by the way. On days like this, I mean."
"Well- You threw yourself out first." Jon laughed as the joke earned him a light swat on the side. "In all seriousness, though… I understand. You know I understand."
Martin nodded, then finally straightened up with a sigh. "Thank you." He pressed a small kiss to Jon's lips.
He didn't lean back far, and right away, Jon followed the kiss with his own - longer, lingering. Martin breathed with him, his chest rising and falling to the rhythm of Jon's lips capturing his, of his lips capturing Jon's. His thumb caressed Jon's forearm, drawing tiny arcs.
"Anytime," Jon replied when they parted. His eyes, soft yet heavy, lay on Martin like a weighted blanket.
"This is unfairly effective," Martin said. For the first time today, a note of amusement seeped into his voice.
"You love me that much," Jon replied, too softly for it to come out as playful.
"I do," was Martin's simple answer. It was sweet to hear Jon so confident of how cared for he was. "...Can we stay like this for a while?" he whispered.
With a warm look, Jon leaned into him. Martin pressed his lips to his temple. There was some comfort to be found there, like this, even if his insides never really ceased to vibrate with tension.
They parted, eventually, when they remembered their teas. Jon used the opportunity to send Martin another close look - not anxious, though. Not like the ones he'd used to send him right after they'd come here. It was like he'd said: to him, anything was better than seeing Martin like he'd been back in the Lonely.
"Are you all right?" he asked Martin, quietly. Just to make sure, Martin thought.
"In all the most important ways, thanks to you." He nodded. "The rest can come in time."
Jon mirrored his nod, and his lips began to curve in a small smile - but before they were done, Martin was kissing him again.
They sank into it, gently; chests rose and fell, breaths tingled warm skin, lips caressed lips. Jon returned the kiss like he was drinking Martin in, making it careful yet indulgent for them both. Martin blindly set his mug back down before their arms tightened around the other. Air was squeezed out of their lungs with small, soft noises pulled from their throats.
The next time Jon lingered at his cupid's bow, Martin traced his lower lip with his tongue, reaching further when Jon let him in. He went in slowly, thoroughly - but pressed yet another bit closer when he felt Jon's fingertips dig ever so slightly into his nape. When Jon sighed into his mouth in reply, the sound and the sensation travelled straight into his loins.
"Mh-" His hands moved down to Jon's hips, gently pushing him away, just a little. "Listen- This is starting to get me hard," he breathed against Jon's mouth. It was how considering sex usually began, for them - with a small step back from the intimacy they were sharing, with a quiet moment of lingering close and fitting the puzzle pieces of their desire, or lack thereof, together. "And- I'd like to keep going," he whispered.
Jon was silent for a while - simply taking time to think about what he'd like, to what degree he wanted to get involved in anything sexual, Martin knew. They'd done this before.
His thumbs softly caressed Jon's sides, and Jon's - the back of his neck.
"You do look like you could use getting some oxytocin in you," Jon said not long after. His words took that light, warm, half-serious tone which Martin loved so much.
"...And you would like to 'get it in me'?" Martin replied through a small laugh, his voice matching Jon's.
"If you want it, too."
Martin nodded, trying to kiss Jon in reply but smiling too widely to do it. "Very much," he said softly.
And so, with the last sips of their teas, they headed upstairs and to their bed.
It hadn't yet become familiar for them. They'd only had sex a handful of times here, in the cabin; and once or twice Martin got off while Jon kissed him. But to Martin's initial surprise, it didn't need to be familiar to feel utterly safe. It only mattered that Jon was.
Not for the first time, the sensation of deep, steady trust settled inside him as his body was carefully exposed by Jon, drowning out some of the leftover agitation from earlier. Bare chests were pressed together, and hands roamed - one of Martin's was occupied with Jon's nipples; one of Jon's rested between Martin's thighs as his finger slipped inside.
It was… quiet, in a way. Peaceful. For now, only their fingers and their mouths worked, and the rest of their bodies lay in a warm embrace. The digit inside Martin was joined by another, and then one more, as he stretched under Jon's careful touch. The loudest sounds in the room were the soft sighs caused by each other's caresses. When Martin was ready, he settled between Jon's thighs in return, taking his soft length in his hand and mouth, feeling him harden and grow against his tongue - feeling his pleasure and his ease from as close as possible.
Lips met again, eventually, and between them - breaths more shallow than before. Jon sank into Martin's arms; his tip was resting against Martin's entrance.
Slowly, he pushed inside, just the head at first, then more as Martin gave him a nod. He rocked back and forth, each time a little deeper, each time checking for signs of discomfort in Martin's expression - but all the while, Martin's face only wore pleasure.
When their hips met, they paused like this, with Jon buried as deep as he could go - giving themselves a moment to simply be together. To feel what this was like, too. And with Jon inside him, lying on top of him, Martin's world narrowed into something kinder and softer than it had been all day.
"I'm going to move," Jon whispered after a short while. Martin nodded, his lips curving in a smile.
Jon's first thrusts pulled low, pleasure-filled sighs from them both. He started gently; he was always gentle with Martin. It was in the way he pressed himself inside, and the way he picked up the pace slowly and gradually. In the way he held Martin in his arms all the while.
"Is this okay?" he asked, and their mouths brushed as he spoke.
"More than," Martin whispered.
His hips were rocking too now, meeting every thrust. The tight, itching bundle of helpless tension in his gut gave in, loosened, making room for Jon. From where he was filled, warmth spread all over his pelvis.
All he had to do was look at Jon, and he knew Jon understood. He knew Jon was feeling him just as acutely. There was no sensation here that wasn't theirs.
Gently, Martin pulled Jon's head closer, and began to nuzzle his cheek, his temple, his hairline. Right next to his ear, Jon let out a small, longing noise.
"Martin-" he asked quietly, then. "...Can you- touch my chest?"
Martin reached for the bottle of lube and warmed a couple of drops on his palms. His hands slipped between the two of them, pressing to Jon's chest, gliding over his skin and cradling handfuls of him in his grasp. His fingers splayed out and carded through the dark, curling hairs as his thumbs started to circle the nipples. Another one of Jon's sighs poured into his ear.
Martin drank in every little noise which seemed to fill the room, seemed to fill him. There was a bare, utter intimacy in having closeness like this accompanied only by their breathing and rustling of the sheets. No sound, no note of want or warmth or contentment could get lost here. And each of them made Martin feel just a bit more overcome with pleasure.
With a kiss to Martin's cheek, Jon craned his neck to meet his eyes - planning to say something, Martin thought. Before he did, though, he took a moment to simply look.
"It feels so good, with you," he whispered, finally.
"With you, too." The words were immediate, open, true. "So much."
Jon leaned down towards him; Martin's mouth parted to meet his, then opened fully to let in his tongue. All the small noises they made were now pouring right into each other's mouth. Martin swallowed something toeing the line of a moan which left Jon's throat as the throbbed inside him.
"Jon- I'm getting closer," he was panting soon, breathless from the kiss. His forehead rested against Jon's temple while his chest heaved.
"What do you need?" Jon whispered.
"Ah- Prostate."
He felt Jon's nod against his cheek.
"Just say when it feels best," came a soft reply.
Jon shifted slightly, then, looking for a different angle. Little by little, he began pressing into Martin's wall more and more stubbornly - until a small full-body spasm made Martin curl into him.
"Here- Please," Martin breathed. A soft whimper was torn out of his chest as Jon steadied himself and began to press his thrusts into the spot. Every muscle in Martin's pelvis was growing taut, all but aching. He wasn't going to be able to take this for much longer.
"Can y- Ah- Can you go a little slower?" he whispered into Jon's ear.
With a small 'of course', Jon did; Martin's breathing instantly grew heavier and more shallow. Each long drag over his prostate sent deep shocks into those parts of him he barely even remembered, outside of sex. One more thrust, one more shiver, one more open sigh out of Jon's mouth, and Martin was gone.
"Jon," was the last thing he uttered before his words turned to moans, shaky and breathy and muffled by Jon's hair. Gentle fingers lay on his nape while he shook apart; a slender arm held on tight to his shoulders. Perhaps the most sweetly, a cheek, pressed to his, curved with Jon's smile.
Jon moved inside him for as long as he could feel him continue to come, and only then, carefully, did he slow and still. Martin was panting into his shoulder; his arms lay half-limp on Jon's back, his fingers curling gently, caressing the skin beneath.
"How are you feeling?" Jon whispered.
Martin let his head fall back down to the pillow. He was feeling peaceful and comfortable, warm with the afterglow, with Jon still inside him, and right now, he was being looked at like he was something deeply treasured (because he actually was, he thought; somehow, he was).
"I feel that I love you very much," he told Jon.
"I love you too," Jon whispered. He glanced at Martin's lips, but eventually decided to kiss his cheek instead, letting him have a moment to catch his breath.
"And, Jon- You can keep going," Martin added. "I'm not too sensitive. Just avoid my prostate for a while."
Jon nodded, and looked at him softly, but didn't start to move again.
"Can you…" he began. His eyes settled even deeper in Martin's, open and warm. "In a moment, of course, but… Can we do it like we did last time? I want to have this with you. But it's still not easy to… to take it." He grimaced slightly at the word. He didn't like to think of sex that way, Martin knew; neither of them did. But at the same time, Jon truly didn't always find it easy to reach out for what he was offered; and the only times in recent memory when he'd been able to ask for something freely and receive what he wanted had been connected to his victims. So Martin understood. And he couldn't say he wasn't struggling with learning to want, either.
The previous time, he'd held Jon tighter and rolled them over, and drawn Jon's pleasure out of him until he'd found his release. He was going to do it now, too, he just… Wanted to say something he thought Jon might like to hear, first.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, and his voice was soft and sympathetic, but not pitying. "I wish feeling good wasn't this complicated."
"I know," Jon replied. "...Me too. But I do feel good here. With you."
Their hips had started rocking together again by then, just barely - not really heading anywhere, simply lingering in the pooling pleasure.
"…I love being with you," he continued. "I guess I just wasn't prepared for how many of my issues would carry over from other places to… to right here."
"No, I… I understand."
"I know," Jon repeated with a soft smile, which Martin traced with his thumb.
Then there was the other thing Martin considered worth telling him.
"We'll do whatever you want most right now, obviously," he began warmly. "But I just thought I'd say- If you did want to check how you'd feel 'taking' it - to try it out, or just to know once and for all, or to push against that worry in you… You have a safe place for this, here. I promise." He knew Jon already did feel safe with him - from the way he lay on top of Martin now, through the way his body sometimes forgot to flinch at unexpected touches, to the way he asked Martin not to stop them even if he did flinch. Jon knew it was a place where he could try to heal. "I trust you. And you wouldn't be doing anything I don't want you to do. So I just… I wanted to put this out there."
Jon didn't say anything at first; when his eyes rested on Martin's, it almost felt possible to dive inside them and get a glimpse of all he was thinking about. A gentle hand caressed Martin's hair; another rested on his chest. Martin closed his eyes, and let him think for a while.
"All right. I… I want to try," he heard, eventually.
"Yeah?" He smiled.
"Yes."
Martin slipped his hand into Jon's, resting on his shoulder.
"...What do you want me to do?"
So very quietly, Jon asked, "Just hold me."
He moved carefully after those few minutes' pause, partially for himself and partially for Martin. Chilly air snuck between them while he pulled back, almost to the very tip, and spread a new layer of lube on them both. Just as slowly, he pressed back inside, pushing as far as he could until his hips once again sank into Martin's.
"Is this still comfortable?" he whispered, making sure.
Martin nodded, holding him tighter.
"It is." They were close enough for his lips to brush the corner of Jon's mouth. "...I want this, too."
Closing the distance, Jon began to thrust into him again, picking up his pace slowly, just like before. Martin immediately welcomed the sensation back. Soon, the calm, steady ebb and flow of Jon's hips - slightly different now that Jon was going at his own rhythm, yet utterly familiar through and through - seemed to be filling him up. He raked a hand through Jon's hair, causing a full body shudder and a small, warm laugh, which he echoed. His fingertips traced the shape of the vertebrae under Jon's nape, trailing lower, lower along his back and waist until his very tailbone, and then back up.
The next time he opened his eyes, Jon's were already on him. He looked almost overwhelmed. Almost in pain.
"How are you feeling?" Martin asked.
"Really, really good," Jon whispered through what sounded like a trace of a lump in his throat.
Martin sent him a long, soft look. "Me too."
His hand continued to run through Jon's hair, or stroke his head, or roam all over his body; the other remained around Jon's middle, holding him close like he had asked. In this embrace, Jon seemed to melt; inside Martin, he began to throb. And Martin was never going to get tired of feeling him feel good this intimately. The comfortable stretch, the push and pull, the pulsating against his walls - they made it feel like every part of the two of them that could touch the other, did.
Jon's forehead was resting against Martin's now, as if he wanted every sign of the pleasure he experienced with him to be clear, to be communicated straight to him. From there, shaky breaths crashed against Martin's lips, and droplets of sweat were smeared along his hairline. Jon couldn't have been very far from coming when they'd paused, Martin thought.
He twitched inside Martin again, this time with a low, breathy 'ah'. Martin felt his arms around him shift ever so slightly as he clung even closer.
"I'm almost…" Jon whispered.
"I'm here," Martin replied, simply, softly. "I want it, too."
"Martin-"
There was another throb, and another, and finally, the next one punched a single low and broken moan out of Jon's chest. His arms tensed around Martin's neck, he sighed Martin's name against his cheek again, and pulsed, pulsed, pulsed inside him, pressed as close as possible. His thighs trembled in the embrace of Martin's; his heart thundered against his chest. And Martin held him as if Jon needed help staying in one piece.
It was a while before Jon's body started to relax against him; before his throbbing weakened and stopped. Martin smiled as he felt small caresses running across his shoulders and a kiss on his cheek. Inside him, Jon was beginning to grow soft.
"...Looked like you felt really good," Martin whispered warmly. Jon sent him a soft look as he shifted to pull out and roll the condom off of himself, careful not to jab his elbows or knees into him.
"Thank you." His words were breathy and even quieter than Martin's. "...For this." He paused, almost seeming intimidated in the face of baring himself even more, yet again. "For wanting to be a safe place for me."
"I'll always want to."
Jon sent him another helplessly fond look.
"...I love you," he said, before pressing a kiss to Martin's lips.
"I love you," Martin echoed.
Jon's legs seemed a little weak as he lifted himself up to move to the mattress. He settled on his side, and Martin mirrored him, wrapping an arm around his torso and pulling him closer. He felt Jon gratefully go utterly limp against him.
"You got hard there, near the end," Jon said. His hand lay on Martin's hip, his fingers spreading light caresses over his skin.
Martin had - after long, slow minutes of Jon pressing into him, trapped between them.
"I did," he replied, softly. "...I was almost too distracted by you to pay any attention to it." His eyes met Jon's. "Oxytocin looks really great on you."
Jon laughed - a beautiful, open, rich sound - and said, "On you too, you know."
"Just what you said your goal was," Martin replied through a growing smile. "I'm not sure my body even remembers how to be tense anymore."
"Apart from the fact that you're hard, of course." Jon's tone matched Martin's. His hand slid a little lower, stopping at where Martin's pubic hair began to grow. "Let me…?" he paused, looking for some better words to express what he was feeling. "I'd love to keep feeling you for a while longer."
"...Me too," Martin said, simply, warmly. He'd been doing his own share of learning to accept things he was offered.
Jon held him in his hand, and that was all there was - their bodies, warm and pressed together. Their eyes, sometimes closed and sometimes resting on the other's face. Jon's palm wrapped around Martin's length and his thumb circling Martin's tip. Martin barely noticed when the small caresses brought him right near the edge, and when he spilled, it was closer to a long, relieved sigh than shaking apart.
He caught Jon's lips while Jon wiped his come off his skin, lingering there with all the gentle, steady conviction he'd come to identify with loving him. Jon held on in return with everything Martin had come to identify with being loved.
Soft, tender words were spoken through bright smiles when they parted; quiet laughs rumbled against each other's chests. Hearts and lungs slowed as they held each other close.
This, Martin thought, was calm.