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They’ve been on four dates, and Martin has been an absolute gentleman every time they go out, has held open doors and pulled out chairs and kissed Jon sweetly on the cheek every night before they’d part ways, which is why Jon says yes when Martin asks if he wants to go back to Martin’s flat.
“I’ve got a roommate,” Martin states belatedly while they’re in the cab. “Is that okay?”
Maybe that should have tipped him off. But really, at the time, it just eased Jon’s budding anxiety. If Martin has a roommate, that means he probably isn’t be expecting to do anything… right? Up to now, Jon has been reluctant to bring up the Being Ace Thing (though Martin does know about the Being A Virgin Thing.) Jon likes the idea of spending the night, maybe even getting some proper kisses from Martin, but is nervous about having to actually address… more.
So they get to the flat and Jon is feeling alright about things until he hears Martin lock the door behind him, and for some reason, the solid sound of the deadbolt fills Jon with a sort of dizzy dread.
“Daisy, I’m back!” Martin calls out. He puts his hands on Jon’s shoulders, pushing him out of the walkway and further into the flat. “Jon came back with me, come meet him!”
There are footsteps, and just a moment later, Jon meets Daisy: a tall woman with appraising blue-grey eyes. She doesn’t say hello, doesn’t offer a hand to Jon, just stares him up and down. Jon feels his heart start to beat a little faster. Martin’s hands feel tight on his shoulders.
“You like him, don’t you?” Martin asks. “You said he sounded cute.”
“He’s cute,” Daisy says. Her voice is lighter and softer than Jon was expecting. Almost soothing. Along with the compliment, it makes Jon feel a bit lightheaded.
Then her hand comes up to cup his jaw, and the dread is creeping back in.
“Martin?” Jon whispers. “Martin, um-”
“Now don’t worry,” Martin interrupts. “I’ve told Daisy everything. She knows it’s going to be your first time, so she’ll be gentle!”
“To start, anyway,” Daisy adds, then turns and heads back to — presumably — her bedroom.
Jon wants to ask what Martin means, but he’s being pulled over to the sofa and into Martin’s lap, and there’s too much heat in Jon’s face for him to think straight. He presses the back of his hand to one cheek and it feels cold as ice.
“Hey, I know you’re nervous,” Martin says, and his voice is sweet as always, and his hand is rubbing at Jon’s back. “I was nervous the first time I had sex, too, but luckily you’re not dealing with a fumbling sixteen-year-old boy here.” He chuckles. His hand traces a line up Jon’s spine, then down, then up again. Up and up his back, then his neck. Up into his hair, pulled up into a tight bun so it stayed out of his face during their date. Martin’s finger starts to worm its way beneath the band.
“Martin…” Jon scrambles to say something, anything. “Y-you— you told Daisy about me?”
That… wasn’t quite what he meant to ask.
Martin smiles. Why does he looks so… calm? So normal? He finishes his work of undoing Jon’s bun, letting his curls slowly fall free. Gently brushing it with his fingers, Martin replies. “Of course. I always tell Daisy about my dates in case she’s interested in meeting them. I mean, usually she wouldn’t be, but you’re special! I knew she’d want to share you with me.”
“Share?”
“Mmhm.”
“But… but…” It’s getting a little hard to breathe, now. “We haven’t- I mean- not even kissed, really, and I- I- I mean, I’m…”
Martin leans forward and kisses Jon’s neck. Tingles spark there, dancing across Jon’s shoulder, falling down his back. His words falter as he gasps breathlessly, surprised.
Martin doesn’t pull away. No, instead he opens his mouth; warmth and wetness find Jon’s skin. He fists a hand in Martin’s shirt, too overwhelmed to try speaking again. He wants to pull away, but the arm that was at his back is now around his waist. Holding him firmly, keeping him close. Pinned in Martin’s lap.
Footsteps again. Jon had been resisting the urge to close his eyes, but now he lets them fall — is it from bliss, or fear? He hears Daisy enter the sitting room again.
“Is he behaving?” she asks.
Martin pulls away with one last, wet kiss. “I told you, Jon’s a sweetheart — once you get to know him.”
“You also mentioned he could be stubborn,” Daisy replies. Jon hears her set something down on the coffee table.
There’s a hand on his knee, now. No, it’s moving, up his thigh and… creeping in, between his legs. Jon trembles. He dares to open his eyes so he can see Martin’s hand only a few inches away from…
“I haven’t—” Jon blurts out, then chokes in his own panic. He tries again, “I’ve never…” I can’t, he wants to tell them. But when he looks up and over at Daisy, forgetting his fear for a moment, she’s right there. Looming over him, staring with those steely eyes.
Her hand takes his chin again. Tilts his head up so he’s facing her fully, wide-eyed and red-faced. Something about what she sees must satisfy her, because her blank expression melts into something different. A smirk, like she’s gotten exactly what she wants from him. Or is about to. “You’re going to be good for us, aren’t you?” It’s a question and it isn’t; Jon gets the feeling she’s expecting nothing less than his best behavior.
What does he do? What can he say? Martin’s hand is warm on his thigh and the tip of his middle finger tickles a seam at Jon’s crotch. Martin’s mouth is on his neck again. But Daisy’s hand stays where it is, and her eyes are assessing him once more, and Jon feels hot hot hot, almost too hot to bare it. Fear and arousal prickle all over, making his clothes feel too tight and the air too thin.
“What do you want from him first?” Daisy asks.
Martin pulls away to answer, face growing red. “I really want his mouth.”
“Alright, hand him over then, and we’ll get situated.”
“Wait!” But his feeble protest falls on deaf ears, it seems. Martin wraps his arms around Jon and effortlessly hoists them both up, bringing Jon to his feet. His knees feel weak, but lucky for him, Daisy is right there to take hold of his shoulders as Martin passes him off. Daisy, unlike Martin, is wearing a plain, comfortable shirt beneath a purple cardigan. The fabric feels cool and soft on Jon’s overheated skin, and for lack of any better ideas, he tries to focus on that, hoping to ground himself enough to gather his wits.
Martin shuffles over to the far end of the sofa, but before he sits down, he unbuttons and pulls down his trousers. While he does that, Daisy slowly rotates the two of them around, so that she’s standing in front of the sofa instead of Jon.
For a second — just a second — Jon has a clear shot to the door of their flat and the idea that he could try breaking free of Daisy’s grip and making a run for it. How long would it take him to turn the lock, then the knob, and swing open the door? Two, maybe three seconds? Would that be enough time?
But she must see something, or feel the way his body tenses up and his breathing pauses, because Daisy’s grip on his arms becomes fierce. Her mouth falls against Jon’s ear.
“This will be so much easier for you if you don’t try anything stupid,” Daisy tells him. Her voice is still soft and calm and soothing. To Jon, it sounds like how a cat’s fur feels, like something plush caressing the parts of his brain that he can’t seem to control. “Martin likes you a lot, you know. Hasn’t shut up about you since he took you out on that first date. He’s been excited for this, so don’t ruin everything just because you’re a little nervous.”
…A little nervous? A little nervous!? Is that what she calls it? Jon feels like he’s out of his mind and that he might hit a level of panic too great for his skin to contain. He’s going to fall apart at the seams with just how much he doesn’t want what’s happening to be happening.
Daisy’s voice caresses. “Do you want to know a little secret, Jon? You have power here, too. I’ll show you, but you have to listen, or else you’ll be too distracted to realize it.”
Then she sits, pulling Jon down into her lap.
Resentfully, Jon squirms as much as he can in her grip, though it’s clear he’s not really fighting to break away and try to run. Daisy seems amused by this — pleased, even. She hums and adjusts her hold, wrapping both arms around Jon so she can squeeze him up against her, pinning his arms to his sides in the process. “He really is cute,” she tells Martin, who chuckles.
“It’s just a shame he’s so nervous, now,” Martin says, while casually taking out his- his- oh, goodness. Martin’s cock is half-hard, blushing with his eagerness. As he continues to speak, Jon watches him pull at his foreskin, tugging it back to reveal the leaking head. “If he was being his usual, more talkative self, you’d really understand why I want to fill up that mouth of his.”
“We can talk later.”
Jon is too busy staring at Martin to notice much of what Daisy does. When he manages to look away from his cock, he and Martin lock eyes, and Martin smiles. “Sorry, that probably makes it sound like I don’t want you to talk at all? That’s not it! It’s just— Ah, it’s hard to explain,” he stammers, blushing. Looking genuinely flustered, like he’s nervous and giddy and happy, like he does when they go out on dates. Natural. Casual. Kind, friendly Martin. Attentive, safe Martin.
Jon yelps when Daisy abruptly moves him. At some point, she snuck a hand around his body and tucked it beneath his thigh; with her other arm holding his torso up, she pulls his legs, and suddenly Jon is being guided to lie on his belly across her lap. It brings his face that much closer to Martin’s cock, close enough that he can smell it. Ferocious heat scorches his cheeks and he instinctively tries to get his arms beneath him and sit up.
Daisy does not let him sit up. She has one hand at his back, between his shoulders, keeping him down. The other is- is- removing his pants, pulling everything down and away. “What are you doing!?” Jon asks, squirming.
“Getting you ready,” Daisy says simply.
She moves them both again, shuffling carefully on the sofa. Brings Jon closer to Martin’s cock, close enough that the heat radiating from it begins to kiss Jon’s cheek. He quickly learns struggling against Daisy is useless — her grip is like iron, the hand on Jon’s back a cinder block, damning him to drown.
“Okay, so- this is your first time doing this!” Martin says. He sounds giddy. He reaches down both hands to cup Jon’s face, and the action is so gentle that Jon can only look up at him, focus on him instead of the fear making him shiver. “It’s not too hard, I promise. We’ll try to go slow — won’t we, Daisy?”
Daisy grunts, and Jon sees Martin roll his eyes. “We’ll try our best,” he says to Jon, offering a lopsided grin. His eyes are bright and there’s pink in his cheeks. He looks… cute. Jon feels nauseous.
“It’ll be easier if you sit up just a bit,” Martin tells him — or Daisy? The pressure on Jon’s back eases just enough for him to prop himself up on his elbows, hands forced to rest on Martin’s thighs for balance. His skin is warm and soft, speckled with hair. Jon can’t see his balls, still tucked underneath his pants, but his cock has been pulled up past the band; it seems even bigger up close.
“P-please, Martin,” Jon gasps, but Martin interrupts him, rubbing his cheek with one thumb as his other hand climbs into Jon’s hair.
“Okay, so now what you want to do is use your lips to cover your teeth — that’s really important,” Martin says with a chuckle. “Seriously. And don’t worry too much about, like, licking or sucking, you’ll sort of figure it out as you go? Really the important part is trying your best not to gag. I mean- you can gag a little, you won’t get in trouble if you do!”
It’s extremely difficult to listen to Martin’s words when the smell and heat of his cock is so present, and the pressure at Jon’s back, and the hand that hasn’t left his ass alone since Daisy removed his pants. It’s entirely too much, Jon already feels overstimulated beyond belief. So, at the end of his rope in a flash of pure repulsed desperation, he tries to struggle.
Martin’s hand in his hair had been calmly settled amidst his dark curls. Now it becomes a stinging vice, fingers curled and wrist twisting. Jon cries out, hands instinctively flying up to try wrestling Martin away. He loses his balance and falls forward into the cushion between Martin’s thighs.
In the very next moment, a bright, loud pain demands Jon’s attention, and he yelps into the sofa. Tries to move his head up and look back, but Martin’s pressed him down now, keeping his face shoved into the fabric.
Daisy hits him again — no, she’s spanking him. Her hand swats at his ass three more times in quick succession. She hits him solidly and with stern force. Jon can feel the heat of it after she stops, the biting pain beginning to spark and spread like embers catching fire.
“Daisy,” Martin says, sounding exasperated. “I told him you would be gentle!”
“He misbehaved.”
“Yeah, but four? That was too much. Only two would have been fine.”
Daisy doesn’t say anything else — or if she does, Jon doesn’t hear her over the sound of his own labored breaths, his whimpering.
“It’s alright, love,” Martin says, his voice so soft Jon can almost feel it, soothing as a balm on all the parts of him that hurt. “Let’s try again.”
Martin helps Jon get back onto his elbows. Gently cups Jon’s jaw while using his grip in Jon’s hair to guide him. Jon makes the mistake of trying one last time to resist, to plead with Martin to at least slow down—
Daisy’s hand is swift, and she hits him just as hard as before. Jon hadn’t even realized how much the pain had eased off until she lights it up again, fanning the dying flames so the heat crawls up Jon’s back and smolders there.
With a shuddering breath, Jon opens his mouth and lets Martin push his cock inside.
“There you are,” Martin sighs, sounding for all the world like Jon is giving him something he’s been starving for. “Perfect… Jon, you feel so good, I knew you would. Okay, now… open up your throat a little. Try your best for me, love.”
Jon closes his eyes, tears threatening to flow as he’s overwhelmed with confusion. How can Martin speak to him so sweetly? He sounds like the same person he was only an hour or so prior to all this. But there’s simply no way he can be the same Martin. Right?
He must have tensed up, or taken too long, because Daisy’s hand is on his ass again. She doesn’t spank Jon, but pinches some of the skin she’s hit, and Jon flinches and trembles and struggles to remember what Martin told him to do. Open his throat? How does he do that!?
It must not really matter, in the end, because Martin pushes into his throat either way. Jon gags, tries to pull his head back. Martin lets him, though his grip in Jon’s hair prevents him from pulling off all the way. The gag reflex has forced Jon’s tears to finally escape.
“Shh, it’s okay, you’re doing great for your first time,” Martin says. Incredibly, Jon thinks he can hear a note of awe in his voice. When he strains to look up at him, Martin’s staring right back already, eyes wide and bright, like he’s trying to take in every single detail. Somehow that, more than anything, is what makes Jon blush. And something in him begins to shiver, to ache, to—
There are fingers pushing, prodding. Jon jolts, kicking unthinkingly as he realizes what’s happening. The fingers retreat, but Daisy smacks him twice in return. Jon’s cries are muffled by Martin’s cock.
“Stop kicking,” Daisy tells him. She doesn’t sound any different than she did when they first started this — relaxed and perfectly collected, yet intense. There’s an authority to her voice that makes Jon want to follow her lead as much as it makes him want to squirm and resist what’s happening. “Unless you don’t want me to prep you at all.”
“Aw, Daisy, no,” Martin softly protests, even as he begins to push Jon down his cock again. Jon closes his eyes and doesn’t resist, straining to listen, struggling not to choke. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Then he needs to let me stretch him.”
“He’ll be good! Right, Jon?”
At a loss, Jon tries his best to moan an affirmative. Martin, apparently charmed, smiles.
Jon just… lets himself get a little lost. Stops trying to resist, doesn’t let himself pay attention to how long things are taking. It feels like forever, though, with Martin attempting to push, get more of himself into Jon’s mouth. But it always goes too far— Jon chokes and gags and Martin sighs, pulling Jon off before he hurts himself. Watching Jon cry with a look of disappointment.
“He’s having a really difficult time,” Martin mumbles over Jon’s head, finally allowing Jon to pull off for a moment. He gasps, taking the chance to work his jaw, which has become quite sore. “I can’t get into his throat.”
“You’re being too gentle,” Daisy tells him. While Martin was getting a blowjob, Daisy has been busy invading Jon’s cunt. Her fingers are so thick, so much bigger than Jon’s, and he’s only tried fingering himself maybe three times in his life. Has always regarded the practice as too uncomfortable and messy to be worth the trouble. The way her fingers stretch him open is painful— Jon thinks, anyway. Mostly it stings and aches, but he thinks he’s been too distracted by Martin to notice the pain as much. What an odd benefit to having his mouth preoccupied.
Too soon, Martin is pulling Jon back onto his cock. Jon lets it push past his lips. “But I—”
“He’s not going to break.”
Suddenly, there’s another hand in Jon’s hair. Daisy gathers up a great big handful of it, securing her grip on the back of Jon’s head. Then she shoves his head down.
Martin’s cock pushes in, then too far, then too far; Jon is so stunned that he doesn’t even have time to yell. There’s a sickly sweet surge of pressure that goes up, then down his throat, like a wave, like nausea — Jon thinks he’s gagging but he can’t tell. Can’t even breathe.
Above him, Martin is making an incredible noise, and choking a bit himself. “Fuck! Daisy!”
Daisy holds Jon flush with Martin’s crotch for four whole seconds before easing him off. As soon as Jon can breathe again, he’s coughing, spluttering. He wants to stop, he wants to—
Daisy pushes him down again. Jon takes Martin in, all the way back again. A feeling, hot and all-consuming clamps down on Jon’s skull. Something fuzzy begins to tingle at the base of his neck.
“Daisy, s-stop, wait!” Martin is pleading with her, even as he rocks his hips, finding the rhythm he needs to go deeper.
“You’re the one who wanted to fuck his throat,” Daisy teases.
“But- but- God, Daisy, stop, I want to finish inside—”
“Inside his mouth?”
“No!” Martin moans, even as his thighs begin go twitch and threaten to clamp around Jon’s head. “No, no, I want his cunt!”
“You sure?”
“Yes!”
Daisy pulls Jon off of Martin’s cock, then lets his hair go. Jon’s mouth hangs open in one prolonged, silent gag, and then he’s coughing uncontrollably into the sofa cushion.
“Fuck, Jon.” Jon feels hands petting his hair. “That was amazing, you took me so well.”
From behind, he hears Daisy mutter, “A real natural, is he?”
“I wish you could feel his throat like I can, Daisy.”
For some reason, Daisy chuckles, saying, “No you don’t,” and Jon peeks just in time to see Martin furiously blush.
“Shut up,” Martin groans. Then he notices Jon looking and redirects his attention.
When he smiles, it still feels like every other time he’s smiled at Jon. One of the first things Jon really loved about Martin was his smile; he did it a lot, but most of them weren’t real, Jon had come to realize. They were polite, they were nice, but so many of them had been half-hearted or fake, never reaching Martin’s eyes. The first time Martin had smiled at Jon — the first time Jon had felt it was real — had been the moment that Jon knew he was in trouble.
Apparently even more trouble than he originally suspected. And yet. Martin’s eyes are bright, and he’s gentle helping Jon to sit up a little. He coos and kisses Jon’s temple and uses his own shirt to wipe off the mess on Jon’s mouth and chin.
What else is there to do? Helpless, Jon reaches out to Martin. Gently grips his shirt and tries to tug him closer.
Martin’s entire face lights up, and Jon thinks Oh no.
Martin takes Jon’s face in both hands and guides him into a kiss. “You were so good for me,” Martin sighs, positively saccharine. “You tried your very best.”
A cool finger gently grazes Jon’s ass cheeks, and he flinches, though there’s no real pain. Then he flinches again, expecting Daisy to hit him for his reaction, but she does no such thing. Martin still shoots a glare over Jon’s head as if she did. “He was good! He only got, what, five spanks?”
“Seven,” Daisy reports, though not coldly. Jon swears he can hear a note of affection in her voice. “So… Relatively, I suppose, he wasn’t so bad.”
Relative to what? Jon dully wonders, and then decides not to think about it, actually. He doesn’t want to think anymore. His body feels both overworked and, strangely, under-stimulated. The absence of Martin’s cock in his mouth or throat is… well, he feels it. There’s a sense of emptiness to Jon that he’s never felt before.
Instead of hitting him, Daisy begins to manhandle Jon again, gathering him up into her arms. Jon hisses as he’s forced to sit upright on her thigh; Daisy chuckles. Her chest is close to his ear and Jon can feel her heartbeat knock against the fuzzy feeling spreading in his brain. “Should we move to the bedroom?”
“Yes, please,” Martin sighs. “I’ll need a minute, can you get him settled for me?”
Daisy grunts. Then, with ease, she hoists Jon and herself up from the couch. Jon yelps in surprise, sure he’s about to fall, but Daisy’s got both arms secure under his thighs and leans back, making sure most of Jon’s weight falls back against her. Jon instinctively grapples onto Daisy’s shirt, arms wrapped around her shoulders. Like this, his head is above hers, and Daisy speaks into his neck. “Come on, lets go.”
Jon doesn’t protest or attempt to struggle. He closes his eyes, hiding his face in Daisy’s hair. Whatever shampoo she uses smells subtly floral. It’s nice. Jon tries to focus on that, and the strange novelty of being held, instead of everything else.
Too soon, they walk into another bedroom. When Daisy says, “I’m putting you down — you’ll want to get on your knees,” Jon does as she says with a frown. His ass doesn’t smart as badly as it did before, but he’s sure putting too much weight on it will irritate him.
Unleashed onto the bed and free of Daisy’s hands, Jon takes a moment to look around. There’s nothing special about the bedroom, but he sees one portrait of a much younger Martin in a frame on the dresser. The grey comforter has been pulled back, folded at the foot of the bed, showing off creamy sheets with an impressive thread count. Jon distracts himself moving his hands and knees against the fabric.
Beside him, just outside of his view, Jon hears Daisy unbuckling her belt. He trembles a little, wanting to look, but— he keeps his eyes down on the sheets. Tries to think, but it’s too difficult, easier not to bother. The situation isn’t so scary if he doesn’t think too hard about it.
The bed dips behind him. Now Jon does look, glancing nervously over his shoulder at Daisy. She’s taken off her jeans, but tight black boxer briefs remain. She’s also kept her shirt on, though Jon thinks she might have slipped her bra off from underneath; he catches himself eyeing the neck of her shirt to check and quickly turns away.
Of course, because today is his day, Daisy notices. Jon can feel her mocking smile even if he can’t see it, and shivers as Daisy’s hands slide up his back, grip his shoulders. “Are you a little pervert, Jon?” she asks lightly, shuffling to sit behind him. “Don’t let Martin catch your eyes wandering. He might not mind me, but generally, that guy’s pretty shit at sharing his toys.”
Is that what Jon is, now? A toy? He tries to muster up a strong emotion at that — anger, indignation… It’s all too far away. Actually, for some reason, he thinks it might even sound… sort of nice? After all, toys can’t get raped; they’re just things.
Daisy’s hands move under Jon’s arms, and he lets himself stay limp as Daisy adjusts both of them on the bed. Soon Jon is settled between her splayed legs while she sits against the headboard. Softly, like she’s telling Jon a secret, she whispers into his ear, “Don’t worry, I won’t rat you out.”
Jon feels too warm. Heat radiates from Daisy’s body — her thick thighs on either side of his waist, her belly pressing against his back, her breasts which are definitely not being restrained by a bra right now… Jon even thinks, prickling with a blush, that he can feel the heat of her cunt against his ass, tucked as snugly as he is against her. Did what happened earlier get Daisy excited, too? Does she like doing this, hitting Jon and fucking him with her fingers and manipulating his body with such ease?
This is when Martin walks into the room. Jon locks eyes with him and feels his breathing begin to quicken. In a way, he’d almost forgotten about Martin completely. Now Jon feels his vision begin to tunnel. Unconsciously, he leans back into Daisy, drawing his knees up towards his chest—
“Ah-ah,” Daisy softly scolds. Her arms snake around Jon’s body to pry apart his legs. “Neither of us will be having that. Just relax.”
“You two look like a dream,” Martin sighs, climbing onto the bed. Jon can see his cock hanging just over the soft sheets; it looks like it’s gotten hard again. He hears himself whimper, but Martin doesn’t seem to notice. “Is he ready?”
“Felt ready enough, but I can always check,” Daisy replies, and Jon feels her fingers ghost past his clit and dip into his cunt again. Without thinking, he tries closing his legs, but Daisy’s free hand grips his thigh so tightly, he feels her nails dig into his skin. Jon whimpers and says, “Sorry, I’m sorry!”
“I’m sure you are,” Daisy agrees. Her tone is firm again, like it was before, when she told him not to kick. “You’ll certainly be sorry if you don’t let me get you ready. I’m sure Martin’s cock felt big in your mouth, it being your first time and all, but it’ll feel a lot different going in here.”
Her fingers punctuate her point, shoving as deep as they can go. The meat of her thumb bumps against Jon’s clit and he rocks his hips without meaning to.
Martin, who’s busy positioning himself between both their legs, mutters, “Like you’d even know.”
Against his back, Jon hears Daisy chuckle. When she speaks, she only says, “You’ll need lubricant if you don’t want to tear him up.”
The words get to Jon, worry him, but… in a distant way. It feels like so many of his emotions have been trapped behind something thin and clear, like plastic wrap — close enough to feel the shape of them, to recognize what they are, but they can’t truly touch Jon at all. And, in return, it’s like every physical touch is so much more.
“Are you sure?” Martin asks, staring at Daisy’s hand while she works. “He’s so wet!”
“Do what you want,” Daisy says. “I’m just warning you.”
“Fine, fine. No reason not to, I guess. Be right back, Jon!”
Martin hastily shuffles off the bed to go rummage through a drawer. Along with a bottle of lubricant, he pulls out a small square that looks like— oh.
“Think I’ll need the condom?” Martin asks. His words are quiet, like he’s asking himself the question. Of course, Jon thinks darkly. Why in the world would he be asking me that? No, that would make too much sense.
Jon feels the faintest sliver of vindication when Daisy’s words match Jon’s internal tone. “Don’t be an idiot, Blackwood.”
“But he’s obviously clean!” Martin protests — well, actually, it sounds more like he’s whining.
Daisy makes a dismissive sound behind Jon. “Shut the hell up and bring it here. I haven’t got all day you know.”
“Like you’re not enjoying yourself,” Martin grumbles, hopping back onto the bed. He tears open the condom wrapper with a vengeance. “Like you’ve got anything better to do.”
“Careful.”
Martin makes a face, but does in fact stop talking.
Placidly, Jon watches Martin roll on the condom, pinching the top. Watches Martin shuffle closer, line himself up. It’s not until Jon feels Daisy’s hands on his thighs, holding them open, that he realizes he’s begun to struggle again.
“Martin?” When Jon calls, Martin looks up at him. But… It doesn’t feel like he’s looking at Jon, exactly. Even as their eyes lock and Jon sees himself in those wide, black pupils.
Jon wants to say something that will make this stop— or, no. He wants to say something that will undo all of this, but he knows that can’t happen. So instead he just asks in a small voice, “Is it… Will it hurt?”
Martin’s cheeks are pink with a blush; it reaches the tips of his ears and creeps down his chest to hide beneath his shirt. He looks… dazzled. Jon stares back, waiting, and eventually Martin licks his lips and sighs — like, for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
“No, no, I promised,” he says softly, hands coming up to hold Jon’s cheeks again. At the same time, between his legs, Jon feels Daisy’s hand toy with his clit, and he gasps, shivers. “I told you I would be gentle, and I will! I don’t want to hurt you, Jon.”
Then why are you doing this? Jon doesn’t ask.
“Martin,” comes Daisy’s voice from behind. A no-nonsense tone that cuts through the odd spell between Jon and Martin. Martin smiles brightly, teeth flashing, as he hones back in on Jon’s cunt.
Jon wants to believe Martin means what he said, but it’s really, really difficult when he barely gets the head in before Jon starts to have trouble breathing. It’s… a lot. A bigger stretch than he’s ever dealt with, even with Daisy’s fingers inside him beforehand.
“Oh, wow, Jon,” Martin pants, “you’re— like, really tight.”
“Apologies,” Jon growls, the word like acid. Against his back, he feels Daisy’s silent laughter.
“Not complaining!” comes the hasty reassurance, like Martin’s actually worried about hurting Jon’s feelings or something. “Just- uh, a lot to, um— It’ll be a moment.”
“What’s the rush?” Daisy asks over Jon’s shoulder. Jon sees Martin flick a little glare at her. Daisy tsks — Jon can’t see her, but something tells him she’s rolling her eyes. “Lord, you’re plain. There’s more than one way to coax him open. I know you’re thinking exclusively with your prick right now, Martin, but I swear, it’s like you’re the virgin here.”
“Real funny, then, considering I’m the only one who isn’t!” Martin snaps.
“Extremely,” Daisy agrees, and suddenly her hands are at Jon’s chest, groping around. Jon, startled, gently bats at her hands on instinct. “Anything interesting under here?” Daisy asks, and starts unbuttoning his shirt.
Jon grits his teeth and tries to think of what to say, but is interrupted by Martin. “Oh, you’re right! I’ve never seen you with your top off before, Jon. You mentioned you haven’t gotten surgery here, right?”
“I— no,” Jon confirms, feeling helpless again. His shirt is undone, revealing the solid black binder underneath. He hasn’t always worn it on his dates with Martin — Jon’s chest isn’t that impressive, but it’s enough that he still gets misgendered now and then, so the binder really just helps with him feel more comfortable in public.
“Right, then.” Jon feels Daisy’s thumbs sneak under the hem of his binder, tracing along, separating the fabric from his skin. “Arms up.”
There’s no point in making a fuss, so with a single eye-roll, Jon obeys. With both Daisy and Martin’s assistance, getting the binder off isn’t too difficult, and— well, Jon would be lying if he said it wasn’t a relief. Being fully naked is oddly liberating, the cool air on his torso good for his overheated body, and it’s easier to breathe now.
“Not even supposed to wear those things when you have sex, you know,” Daisy muses.
Without thinking, Jon snaps back, “I know that, I’m not an idiot!” Which earns him a mean pinch at his side; Jon yelps.
Daisy’s hand glides from his side to his front, cupping one now-freed breast. “Careful, Jon, I’ve got something new to play with if you need help behaving.”
“Oh, Jon, your tits are so cute!” comes Martin’s dissonant praise. His hand, only slightly less threatening to Jon, grabs his other breasts and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I can’t believe I didn’t even think about taking your top off.”
Jon idly thinks to make a comment in agreement with Daisy’s earlier assessment about Martin thinking exclusively with his prick. Before he can really come up with anything, though, he’s distracted by Martin’s mouth on his nipple and Daisy’s teeth at his neck, and ah, well okay. Those are very different sensations.
For a few moments, Jon is simply… chewed on. Lapped at and squeezed by two bodies, two sets of teeth, four hands that grope and pry and dig into his warming flesh. He really is quite trapped, and Jon can do little more than submit.
Then one of Daisy’s hands sneaks back down to his clit and begins to rub, much faster than she has before, and Jon gasps and unthinkingly rocks his hips forward, and he is reminded all at once of the cock partially inside him. A cock that begins to slide in further; the stretch isn’t as painful as before.
Soon enough, Martin is pressing himself fully against Jon, one hand at Jon’s neck as he kisses Jon’s temple and sighs, “Yes, yes, finally.”
The way Martin says it, Jon can’t help but moan and clench around him. He feels so full, but he’s been touched and bothered so much up to this point that the fullness is welcome. Like an element he didn’t know was missing in the first place. Jon, trapped between two bodies, is forced to take the pleasure, and it’s here that he truly gives in. It feels good. He wants it to feel good. He wants to enjoy it.
So Jon attempts to move his legs, weak though they are, wrapping them around Martin’s waist as well as he can.
That seems to be all the encouragement Martin needs. He sighs sweetly into Jon’s neck. Braces himself on Daisy, gripping her thighs which cage Jon inside. And then he starts to fuck Jon properly.
There's nothing else for Jon to do but take it. Nowhere to go, pinned by Martin’s thrusting body and cradled against Daisy’s front. Now, naked and spread open, Jon feels the last traces of worry flee from his mind as pleasure takes its place. He struggles to move, wrapping his arms around Martin as much as he can, holding him around his shoulders in an effort to pull him just a bit closer.
Martin is panting Jon’s name into his overheated skin. Daisy’s saying something, too, but the soft drone of her voice is lost and Jon can’t understand her. Hands grope his tits, pinching and pulling, a spark of pain. Jon squirms and buries his sounds against Martin’s shoulder.
Martin’s voice spikes in volume as he breathlessly says, “Fuck, fuck, close.” For a second, Jon hears it as a question, and attempts to come back into himself; he’s too spread out and messy to even know what he’s feeling, exactly, in the moment. But then Jon realizes, as his partner tenses and shudders, that Martin was not asking after him. Jon can feel him pulse inside and spares a thought to be thankful that Daisy made him wear a condom.
A moment later, Martin seems to slump, releasing a heavy sigh of satisfaction. His arms adjust to wrap around Jon in a loose hug. “That was… gosh,” Martin says. “Just as amazing as I was hoping.”
“Glad you had fun,” Daisy replies blandly. Her hands are still on Jon’s chest, though she’s stopped pinching. Her fingers do little more than massage at him now, and while Jon can admit it feels nice, it’s also not enough. Jon tries to wiggle, but between Daisy and Martin, there’s too much weight for him to do much of anything. Instead, he makes a dissatisfied grumbling noise.
“Mm?” Martin asks blearily, like he’s just waking up from a nap. “What’s up, Jon?”
“I… I just…” Jon fights through his blush to speak. “You… I’m still, ah, not quite done yet. But you’ve stopped completely, s-so, if you don’t mind?”
“...Oh! Of course!” Martin pulls back so Jon can see his face. He’s wearing an easy smile and kisses Jon on the cheek. “Sorry, just give me a moment and then I can—”
“You take too long,” Daisy interrupts, resting her chin on Jon’s shoulder. He can feel her hair tickling his skin and lashes, feels her jaw as it moves near his throat. “He’s about to make you wait ten minutes to get off, Jon.”
“I am not!” Martin protests. “I’m just sensitive, I just got off, and I’m getting soft so—”
Daisy says something in a language Jon is too addled to catch. Then her hands slide from his chest to his cunt and she’s rubbing at his clit.
The pleasure that had been gradually flat-lining after Martin came abruptly spikes again, and Jon kicks his leg in surprise. In the past, no matter how close he’s been, if he was interrupted while masturbating, there was no going back. Like his nerves could only be woken up once and would refuse to be bothered again, rolling over and going right back to sleep. Now, Jon clenches around Martin, still mostly-firm inside, and that’s enough to remind him of the heat and the fullness. That, along with Daisy’s relentless fingers and her mouth at his neck, is apparently enough to revive his orgasm, coaxing it back to the surface.
Eager for it, Jon rocks his hips as much as he can, which earns a strained noise from Martin. He looks like he wants to protest in some way, but instead, he leans forward to gently butt at Daisy’s head with his own. “Back off,” he grumbles. Jon doubts Daisy is intimidated, but he does feel her pull away, leaving his neck free for Martin to monopolize instead. He licks and sucks and even bites with the obvious intent to bruise, and somehow that— that’s too much. The idea that there will be clear evidence. Suddenly everything hits him, and Jon climaxes, trembling violently. Against his neck, Martin hisses, but holds Jon tighter through it.
Post-orgasm, out of his mind and totally wrung out, Jon can’t help himself. “Out,” he weakly demands. He wishes he could kick his feet, but that would require having some feeling in them. It seems like begging is all he can manage at the moment. “Out, off, out, p-please.”
To his surprise, both Daisy and Martin comply. Martin sounds relieved to pull out, and falls back on the bed with a huge sigh. Daisy’s hand retreats from Jon’s clit, but she doesn’t move Jon away or try to get up from the bed. Her hands migrate to Jon’s thighs, petting him in long strokes that aren’t light enough to tickle, but not so firm that it hurts or adds to the over-stimulation.
Neither says anything, so Jon stays quiet too. He needs a moment to… gather himself. Put his mind to rights. Make his legs stop trembling.
Maybe it’s funny, how the thing that snaps Jon back into full awareness of his body is the wet sensation between his legs. He glances down and grimaces at the sticky mess left on his thighs and— oh, ew, it’s all over the sheets. “I’m a- a mess,” Jon grumbles, and tries to wiggle away from the damp spot on the bed.
He hears Daisy chuckle. Feels her arms wrap around his waist, begin to pull him off the bed. Sees Martin watching, brown eyes never leaving him, and Jon shivers.
Two days later, Jon is leaving work. Fleeing, a little, from his co-workers, who have started to notice how high he’s been keeping the collars of his shirts, lately, and how tightly he’s securing them with his ties. Tim offered to cover a drink for Jon if he went to hang out with them, but Jon had hastily refused.
Work has been strange, but not because anything is different. Rather, it’s strange because it is all the same. Nothing has changed. The work is as it has always been, and so are his co-workers. It’s really just Jon who is…
Martin hasn’t contacted him. After having sex, Daisy ordered Jon take a shower, and after he did so, he emerged to find Martin making dinner. And somehow it was like none of it even happened, which was the most difficult thing to wrap his head around. Martin was as he’d always been, bright and snarky and devastatingly charming. Jon, exhausted and worn down by the entire situation, had just gone along with it.
He’d spent the night. Slept with Martin in his bed — after helping him replace the sheets. Let Martin hold him under the covers, and even kissed back when Martin softly took his lips. It was nice. He didn’t have any dreams.
Then, in the morning, Martin made breakfast for all three of them and convinced Daisy to give Jon a ride home. It was surreal, being dropped off outside his flat, Martin kissing his cheek before Daisy drove them both away.
Jon hadn’t known what else to do with himself, so he just went inside, changed, then left for work. Went home after. Went to bed. Came back the next day.
For a moment — just a moment, right at the last stair — Jon feels like it was all a dream. Like it really never happened. Like he just- just made it all up, somehow. The absurdity of it is just too much, all at once glaring and sharp like sunlight on glass.
But then he turns and sees Martin standing beside the institute building. One hand in his pocket, the other fiddling with his phone. As if feeling Jon’s gaze, Martin glances up, and their eyes meet. Martin smiles. Waves him over. Just like he always did whenever they met up for a date, before—
Before.
Then Jon knows that it really did happen, because the fear and panic that hits him is visceral, enough to make him freeze mid-step and halt his breathing. Should he- can he run? Does he… does he want to run? He could go back into the building, but he can’t stay there forever. And- and Martin knows where he lives, anyway. Knows his workplace, his route home, his- him. Knows Jon. Wants him. Has already taken him.
Martin starts walking over, still smiling, apparently unaware of Jon’s inner turmoil. Jon takes a subtle, half-step back.
He doesn’t get far.
Hands slip onto Jon’s shoulders, making him startle so hard he thinks his heart stops for a second. He begins to turn, but the grip of the hands becomes firm, and Jon thinks that he knows even without seeing exactly who is behind him.
“Hello, Jon,” Daisy says pleasantly. “Going somewhere?”
“Hi, Jon!” Martin chirps once he’s close. He reaches out for Jon, who holds out his hand on instinct. Martin takes it and pulls him from Daisy, dipping forward to plant a kiss on Jon’s cheek. It’s so natural and normal that Jon is dizzy with a very strange sort of relief. “Thought I’d take you to dinner after work. Are you hungry?”
Jon thinks if he tried to eat anything right now, he’d just throw it up. “I— um… D-do you mind, if, if we just… Maybe go on a walk? M-maybe eat after?”
“Sure!” Martin’s smile remains, but he tilts his head, and his eyes change. The hand holding Jon comes up to cup his cheek instead. “Jon, are you feeling okay?”
Jon stares back. The hand on his face is big and soft and familiar and, despite everything, a comfort. He feels Daisy at his back, though she stands in silence. Watching him. Ready and waiting. For what exactly, he wonders. Jon doesn’t know.
He doesn’t want to worry about it.
“I’ll be okay,” Jon tells Martin, and offers a shaky smile of his own. He reaches up to take Martin’s hand back and laces their fingers together. “Come on, let’s go.”