Chapter Text
Jon wakes up at 4 AM sharp.
He can’t help it. It’s just habit, even without an alarm. The room around him is dark—cool blue light barely seeping in from beneath the thick curtains. Just enough to see the outline of Elias by. He’s twisted onto his side, one arm crumpled between his and Jon’s chests, one knee pressed into Jon’s thigh. Jon allots himself ten minutes to just look at him. The thin shine of the tip of his cheekbone, the soft mutter of his breath, the messy sprawl of his thin hair across the pillow.
Jon reaches out to touch the silky edge of it, just because he can. Just because he’s there. He could lose himself like this, grazing his fingers across all of Elias’ soft parts, his touch too gentle to stir him. Jon had thought he’d known everything there was to know about Elias Bouchard, but now he knows even more. Knows just how soft he is.
When Jon finally turns back over his shoulder, the alarm clock is glowing a stern red. 4:12. Christ. He’s late.
Jon delicately levers Elias’s arm up so he can sit up properly and flick on the bedside lamp. The shade is thick—Elias replaced it for his own sake—and the puddle of yellow is only just bright enough for Jon to open the nightstand drawer and retrieve his notebook. It still feels illicit, having his things in Elias’ drawers, even though they have been…something for almost a month now. Jon still has his flat, but Elias doesn’t like to let him return home alone anymore, and then Jon doesn’t really want Elias to return home alone either, and in the end. Well. Neither of them really spend any time alone anymore. Elias’ house features a very tactfully appointed guest bedroom. Neither of them ever thought to bring it up.
“Jonathan,” Elias groans, his voice heavy with sleep. He shifts against the pillows, one arm reaching out to grip at Jon’s side. Jon’s wearing an old, oversized band shirt he’d brought from home, in spite of Elias’ attempts to purchase him an entirely new and unnecessary wardrobe. “Do you have any idea what time it is.”
“A better idea than you, I would imagine.”
“It is five in the morning.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Jon scoffs. “It’s 4:33.”
Elias makes a disgruntled noise into his pillow. “We don’t have to be at the Institute until eight. What could you possibly need to have woken me up for.”
“I don’t recall waking you up.” Jon taps the back of his pencil against his bottom lip. “You did that yourself.”
“You turned on the light.”
“Well some of us have actual work that needs doing. Your schedule isn’t going to write itself.”
“Maybe it will.” Elias crawls up the bed towards Jon, resting one hand on top of Jon’s notebook and pushing it down until their eyes meet. “You’ve certainly never left it alone long enough to find out.”
Jon rolls his eyes, writing Elias’ nonsense off to the early hour. “I should hope not. Then I’d be out of a job.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’d find some other use for you.” Elias’ grip closes hard on Jon’s notebook and he pulls it out of Jon’s hands.
“Hey!” Elias keeps Jon pinned with one hand against his chest while the other holds his notebook up and out of reach. “You woke up in some kind of mood today, didn’t you.”
“Some kind of mood,” Elias agrees. He slips a leg over Jon’s hips and straddles his lap, letting Jon feel exactly what kind of mood he’s in, pressed against his stomach.
“Normally I would be willing to put up with your games, but we’re very busy today, Elias.”
“Put up with me?” Elias rests a hand over his chest. “I’m hurt.”
“You found the one person in the world who will,” Jon grumbles, making a grab for his notebook. Elias jerks it back just in time and then flings it backwards where it hits the ground with a clatter somewhere beyond the foot of the bed.
“There,” Elias says. “Distraction gone.”
Jon would argue that it’s Elias who is the real distraction, but he’s a bit preoccupied with being kissed. For all the time he’d spent imagining kissing his infuriating boss—fantasies which he has since become horrifyingly aware were not safe inside his own mind—he’d never pictured that Elias would kiss like this. Hungry. Pinning Jon’s lip between his teeth until his mouth feels swollen and thick. It’s all he can do to keep up.
“Elias.” Jon finally regains his senses enough to grab Elias by the shoulders and push him back, gasping at the air he finally has between them. “Please. Some of us have actual work to do.”
“Oh, I think I will be quite busy as well,” Elias says with the smirk Jon knows all too well means nothing good. His hand slips between them, rubbing gently at the bulge in Jon’s boxers.
“I’m trying to be serious.” Jon tries to keep his breathing steady, even as Elias draws torturous circles with the heavy base of his palm. Give Elias an inch and he’ll take a mile. “Today is serious, we need to be focused. You’ve got—”
“The staff interviews with Detective Tonner. I’m aware.”
Jon blinks in genuine shock. “You remembered?”
“Yes, well, when you tell me something seven times throughout the course of what was supposed to be a romantic dinner, even I can manage to bear it in mind.” Elias rolls his eyes. “I swear to god I’m dating a calendar. Remind me again why I’m so attracted to you?”
“Because you based your immortal power entirely around bureaucracy,” Jon answers, deadpan. “I’m surprised you never went mad with desire filling out the annual budget.”
“On the contrary, it took everything I had not to spread you out over those tax forms and split you open on my fingers until you broke and let me fire half the canteen employees.” Elias cocks a considering eyebrow. “In fact, maybe when we get to the office…”
“Sir, you do realize that the police officers are going to need to speak with you.” Jon takes in a deep breath through his nose, willing his traitorous dick to please be on his side of this argument, for once.
“Oh no. Sir. Does that mean I’m in trouble?”
“Am I the only one between the two of us who remembers that you’re the one who murdered the woman Ms. James found down in the tunnels yesterday? You need to be prepared for the questions you’ll be asked.”
“I remember,” Elias says, with a put upon sigh, as if Jon is doing him a great inconvenience by trying to keep him from getting arrested. “But I highly doubt they’ll pose me any trouble. I am a very well practiced liar.”
“Exactly what you want to hear your boyfriend say,” Jon grumbles. “If you end up in prison because you can’t stop thinking with your dick then I refuse to take the blame.”
Elias smiles wide, tucking one of Jon’s wild curls behind his ear with a touch that lingers gently on his skin. “If I wind up in prison I’ll at least rest easy knowing I leave my institute in such deeply capable hands.”
“Who?” Jon stares at Elias, who only smiles blandly back and slips off the side of the bed. He pulls the covers down, off Jon’s legs, revealing the shameful bulge in his boxers. “Me?”
Elias sinks slowly to his knees, bracing his weight against the side of the bed. Casually, almost like an afterthought, a gesture as he speaks, he slips his hand through the slit of Jon’s boxers and fishes out his cock. “You’ve told me on multiple occasions that you practically run the entire Institute anyway. I hardly think it would be a challenge for you.”
“I-it’s not that.” Jon twitches lightly as Elias starts to stroke him slowly, letting his hand linger along the path from root to tip. “I can’t do it without you.”
“Sure you could. Bright boy like you? You’d be a more than adequate replacement for me.” Elias presses a kiss to the head of Jon’s dick and Jon goes scarlet. “I trust you.”
“I don’t want to do it without you,” Jon whispers, feeling the heat simmer in his cheeks.
“How sweet.” Elias settles his chin on Jon’s thigh, rubbing against the side of Jon’s dick like a willful, uncontrolled cat. “And to think Nina from accounts told me you have a standoffish and poor demeanor.”
“She what?”
“You know, the detectives will be speaking with you too,” Elias says, meeting Jon’s eyes with a glint that promises nothing good. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to be prepared.”
“I’m not the one who killed her,” Jon points out, more breathless than he wants to be.
“No. But you are my accomplice.” Elias sneaks a hand beneath the hem of Jon’s shirt and pinches at his nipple. “How do I know you’re not going to break under the pressure? Give me away?”
“I, ah,” Jon swallows a little moan. “I wouldn’t. I would never betray you.”
“Perhaps we should put that to the test.” Elias smirks up at Jon for just a moment before he leans in and closes his lips around the tip of Jon’s cock, swirling his tongue around once before popping back off. “Mister…Sims, is it? Where were you the day Gertrude Robinson was murdered?”
“I was, um, well, uh,” Jon struggles to put his words together as Elias’ untrustworthy mouth sinks down over him, all hot and wet and perfect. “I, uh, I was doing what I do every day. Ac-c-companying Mr. Bouchard. We went to see a ch-church that had—ah! Elias!”
“Elias?” Elias asked, pulling off Jon’s red and leaking cock. “We were unaware that you two had that sort of relationship. Have you been sleeping with your boss, Mr. Sims? How salacious.”
“No. We are strictly professional,” Jon mutters, through gritted teeth. He has to close his eyes because the sight of Elias staring up at him with that gleeful shine in his eye and his lips stretched around his length is impossible to focus past. “Please excuse my outburst.”
“Well, go on then.” Elias licks a long stripe up the bottom of his cock before sinking back down.
“We went to see a church that h-had been, ah, featured in several statements. And then we returned to the Institute to lay out the weekly schedule, as we’ve done every Wednesday since I started working. That took up the rest of the afternoon until closing time.”
“And did you have any more contact with Mr. Bouchard then? Or did you simply let him roam around without an alibi?”
Jon glares down at Elias and then immediately regrets it as the sight of Elias’ flushed cheeks and wet eyes goes straight through him. He can barely hold himself back from thrusting in deeper as Elias slides down, his hand wrapped around the base of Jon’s cock to meet his lips.
“No, we had more business to discuss, as we usually do, so we ate dinner together and he gave me a ride home.”
“Hmm, I see.” Elias pulls off with a wet sound, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. “And is Elias Bouchard a good cock sucker?”
“What?” Jon jumps at the question.
“Staying late, private dinners, a ride home? The only explanation for that is an illicit affair.” Elias works his hand up and down Jon’s dick, squeezing and twisting in all the ways he’s learned Jon can’t resist. He rises up a bit, just enough to get a knee on the side of the bed and knock Jon over, still stroking him off as he crouches above him. “He was fucking you blind in the backseat of that car, wasn’t he?”
“No, i-it was for work, we were strictly professional!” Jon’s hips jump, trying to chase the orgasm he can feel building up beneath his skin. He tries to writhe but Elias catches his shoulder with his free hand, pinning him to the bed. “I s-swear.”
“You’re a filthy little liar,” Elias whispers, hot in Jon’s ear. “Anyone who looks at you can see what a slut you are for your boss.”
Jon shakes his head mindlessly, even as he moans for it. “N-no, I’m not.”
“Beg for it. Beg Mr. Bouchard to let you cum.”
“S-sir,” Jon whimpers, his hips jumping, his shoulders shaking. He can feel just how close he is but he can’t do it without permission. “Please, sir, M-Mr. Bouchard. Elias!”
“Good boy,” Elias says. “Permission granted.”
Jon shudders through his orgasm, gripping onto Elias’ shirt for something to ground him. He comes back to himself to find Elias pushing up off of him, licking his hand clean like the cat that got the quite literal cream.
“I’m afraid you failed that interview, Jon.”
Jon shoots him a deeply unimpressed look, letting his arm fall back across his sweaty forehead. “I sincerely doubt Detective Tonner will be performing fellatio while she talks with me.”
Elias grins, his lips still shiny and swollen. “You never know.”
“If we’re late today, I’m telling the officers that you’re guilty, Elias, I swear to god.” Jon sits up and shakes out his hair, tucking himself back into his boxers. “I’m taking a shower.”
“You know, if we got in together, we’d be twice as efficient,” Elias suggests, the picture of innocence. “Saves quite a bit of time.”
“None of this would be happening today if you’d simply listened to me when I said to make Blackwood the new archivist. He would have spent ages before going into the tunnels. That man is terrified to break the rules.”
Elias meets Jon at the door to the bathroom. He takes his wrist and pulls him in tight to his chest, wrapping his other arm around Jon’s waist. Elias’ eyes are impossibly soft looking down at him, but just as magnetic as ever. Jon never has been able to resist Elias’ gaze.
“Yes, you’re right, that’s clearly what I need.” Elias shakes his head, helplessly. “Employees who do what they’re told.”