Chapter Text
today's topic: post-orgasm cockwarming.
Jon likes being inside Martin. Jon likes coming inside Martin. Jon likes staying inside Martin, for as long as practicality permits, long after the main event is finished, softening and relaxing as the aftershocks of his orgasm slowly recede.
He likes cuddling up to Martin, before, during, and after the act, pressing so close he barely gives himself space enough to thrust; spooning warmly against his back or pressing front-to-front, cushioned softly by belly and breasts, embraced by Martin in every possible way.
He likes the come-down, breathing through the squirmy too-much sensation of overstimulation until it fades and all he's left with is delicious wet warmth, like sinking into a hot bath. Sometimes Jon thinks he would stay like this all day, sheathed to the hilt, if Martin let him.
It doesn't become an official Thing until their fifth proper fuck. The first few times are - well, they're still fantastic, all things considered, their mutual enthusiasm carrying them through their shyness and fumbling unfamiliarity - but, well.
Jon still can't stifle a pang of disappointment when the time comes for Martin to pull away. (Or dismount, as the case may be.) The cooling touch of air on his cock, wet with their mingled mess, leaves him feeling oddly bereft.
Until the day Jon finds himself feeling a little brave, or a little needy, or a little demanding, or some combination of the three. This time, after a few minutes lingering lazily in the afterglow, Martin tries to shift position, and Jon...doesn't let him.
Jon briefly tenses, clinging. His hips push forward, keeping his cock right where it is. Right where it wants to be.
Martin hesitates. So does Jon. He nearly apologizes. Then he thinks better of it and commits, re-situating himself atop Martin's chest with a hint of defiance, resting his face in Martin's neck.
They settle back down, breathe together, and say nothing for several minutes.
"...feeling comfortable?" Martin eventually hazards, as though there could be any doubt.
"Mm." They're posed as though they've paused mid-fuck, Jon sprawled on top of Martin, bracketed by his spread legs. A moment frozen in time. It's an odd position for a post-coital cuddle, admittedly, but... "Can we stay like this? For a while?"
"Oh. O-okay." Martin sounds pleasantly surprised - or possibly flustered, which is charming coming from a man who, moments earlier, was begging Jon to fuck him straight through the mattress. There's a tremor of laughter in his words. Jon can hear his smile. "That's...yeah, sure."
Jon sighs in acknowledgement, grateful and contented. Martin brings his arms up, squeezing Jon against him in that way he knows Jon likes, and something in Jon unwinds. He relaxes the rest of the way, melting by degrees until fully liquefied.
Together, they drift.