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One thing Martin loves about Jon is how much he’s open to trying new things. He’s always open to new experiences, but it doesnt really occur to Jon to think about fantasizing. This leaves Martin with a blank slate and Jon, who is always eager to please Martin. Sometimes it can be overwhelming, but mostly it’s really nice to know that he can go to his lover with an idea to try and get (more often than not) a resounding yes.
Jon doesn’t present his own wants very often, is what Martin is saying.
So when Jon curls around Martin after a particularly intense makeout session, Martin wasn’t expecting a direct answer. It takes a second for Jon to get comfortable opening up the conversation about sex if Martin doesn’t do it himself and Martin can feel the beginnings of excitement play at the base of his spine.
“Are you okay?” Is what Martin ends up saying. He’s getting better at one check in, and then putting the ball back in Jon’s court.
Jon buries his face in Martin’s neck, pressing a languid kiss to the sensitive pressure point. Martin gasps, his hips hitching up against Jon’s. He feels a pang of frustration at himself for his lower stomach getting in the way of being able to to grind against his partner properly, but remembers his belly was how the makeout session started.
"I want to fuck you.” Jon murmurs into Martin’s neck.
Martin’s cock swells at the idea, pulling back so Jon can look him in the eyes. “What do you call what we normally do?”
“No, I mean–” Jon sighs, his cheeks flushed a dark red before he rests his forehead against Martin’s shoulder “Properly. I want to feel you around me.”
“Properly? I would say an orgasm from your fist in me is a proper shag—”
“I would like to penetrate you with my cock, Martin.”
And that—
That’s not what Martin was expecting. Jon isn’t normally one to initiate sex. Not that he’s opposed, it just doesn’t occur to him as something to want to want. This admission of a want sits deep in Martin’s stomach, making its home in his cunt, and he feels empty.
Yeah. Yeah, he wants that.
Martin shudders out a breath. “You do?”
“I’m not normally— I don’t feel like this normally, but I want to fuck you and I can’t and it’s just— sad.” Jon says, the corners of his mouth downturned.
Martin knows that Jon’s dysphoria is different from his own. Martin’s dysphoria is related more so to his height and voice, whereas Jon’s is outwardly being perceived as male. An ethereal cognitive dissonance with his brain and his presentation. Part of that is his own bottom dysphoria, which, while they do talk about it, can have a distinct effect on how they go about starting intimacy.
Jon blanches for a second, stuttering. “Not that I don’t love pleasuring you with my mouth or my fingers, but—”
Martin presses a kiss to Jon’s forehead. “I’m never going to be offended that you want to fuck me, Jon.” He can’t help the giddy smile that he feels tugging at his mouth. “Can I ask you a question?”
Jon’s eyebrows furrow, nodding.
“Have you thought about using a harness and a strap-on?” Martin asks. “I don’t own a harness because it’s hard for it to fit my body proportions, but I do have a dildo and it might help alleviate some dysphoria for you.”
Jon’s cheeks flush at that admission, his hips hitching from where they’re pressed against Martin’s thigh, but he has the good grace to nod. “I’ve been doing some research. I don’t want to buy anything I haven’t held or tried on, but I'd be… open to trying it.”
Martin, ever impatient, nods, feeling excitement build. “Tim sent me a store that he recommends—”
“Tim?”
Martin just ignores him. “It’s outside the city, but it’s huge. Tim said it was like a two story warehouse. We'd definitely be able to find something that could fit your needs.”
Jon’s pupils widen, just a bit. He purses his lips, but Martin can see his smile. “What needs do you think I need satisfied?”
“Well, you could use one that inserts in you and then extends to fuck me. There’s ones that ejaculate fake cum—I have one of those, so we’d just need the harness— and then ones that vibrate, of course.” Martin counts off on his fingers.
“Oh, of course.” Jon’s quip is cut off with a yelp as Martin squeezes at his side.
“There are also boxers that you can wear that are harnesses themselves, so you can pack with your dick and then fuck me without the strappy harness.” Martin says, and there, he knows he hit the jackpot.
Jon averts his gaze, cheeks flushing dark. “I didn't know that was possible.”
Martin slides his hand up Jon’s side, settling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I bet you my ejaculating one could fit in the harness. And it might not be exactly what you’re wanting, but–”
Jon presses his lips to Martin’s, a deep kiss that leaves Martin feeling warm down to his toes. “I love you.”
Martin hums, rolling them over so Jon is under him, chuckling when Jon fakes his protest. “I love you too.”
Jon is very amenable to kissing when it comes down to it. He swipes his tongue over Martin’s lower lip, groaning when Martin rocks his hips down against his thigh. Martin can barely handle the feeling of his boxers pressed between Jon’s thigh and his dick, the friction amplifying his arousal as it drags across his swollen cock. Jon slides his hands under Martin’s shirt, gently scratching his fingertips across his back and Martin shivers, groaning against his mouth.
“Would you want to go and see what there is now?” Jon asks, pulling back. There’s a mischievous smirk on his face, one that only ever leads to long nights, and lots of kisses.
“I think I’d be down,” Martin grins at the amused quirk of one of Jon’s eyebrows, having clocked his excitement.
“Then let’s go.”
The sex shop is a little ways out of town—not quite far enough to be annoying, traffic not breaking through the giddy arousal and silliness they feel as they pull into the parking lot. Jon insists on driving when they go out places, Martin “got his license late” and “takes his turns too wide,” and “made a u-turn into someone’s flowerbed once.” On top of Jon getting carsick easily, it’s just easier for Jon to drive.
The store is massive. A proper two story warehouse that Martin wasn't expecting to be so…. welcoming. The shop itself is warmly lit and not quite empty enough to be unsettling, with a couple people milling about.
“It looks like there’s a store for clothes on the ground floor, and the toys and sex accoutrements are upstairs.” Martin says.
“Oh, accoutrements,” Jon parrots back, as they hand their IDs to the front desk clerk, an alternative looking girl who looks like she just came from a Ghost concert. “That’s a five quid word.”
There are little sections of the bottom floor of the store that showcase different aspects of pleasure. High-heeled pleasers, boots and sneakers that would be used for dancers, toys that would be used for hen and stag dos, clothes that could be used for ravers or dancers. Jon looks incredibly out of his element, but when Martin turns around after noticing a particularly sexy looking medical-play outfit, he sees that Jon’s not there behind him.
Jon’s over by the lingerie, holding a box in his hand– a man with an impressive bulge on the cover, covered by a pair of lace boxers. Martin can’t help his flush, the giddy excitement he feels when he walks over.
“Find something fun?” Martin asks, giggling when Jon practically jumps out of his skin.
“Christ,” Jon says, catching his breath. “I thought that these might be… good.”
The box of 2XL black lace boxers has Martin flushed down his chest, a smirk tugging at his lips as he sees the tips of Jon’s ears flushed pink.
“Do you want me in those, Jonny?” Martin asks, sliding his arms around Jon’s middle.
Jon shudders, breathing out a laugh as he pushes Martin’s arms down. “Come on, that’s not exactly fair. Keep your voice down!”
“It’s just a question!” Martin levels his voice as he laughs, speaking directly into Jon’s ear. It’s not like anyone here would actually care if they were talking about having sex at the Sex Shop, but something still felt taboo and exciting, like they were breaking a rule. Jon shoves his finger out to try and shush Martin, who catches it, wrapping his hand around Jon’s index finger.
“Yes, I think you would look particularly handsome in those.” Jon shoves the box in Martin’s arms, the tops of his cheeks coloring red as Martin’s grin only widens. Jon rolls his eyes with a laugh, turning around and walking up the winding staircase to the top level.
Martin follows him, and comes face to face with another area of the store, this time, more leather and BDSM apparel, toys, and furniture. The walls are set up in a circle, the nearest wall to the center staircase being lubricant, followed by insertables, (a half wall of dildos made from molds of porn stars’ cocks, to Martin’s surprise), vibrators, and then kinky clothing: harnesses, leashes, collars. Jon’s eyes are wide— Martin thinks it’s in fear at first but quickly notices the mischief and inquiry in his eyes.
“God,” Martin says, looking at the wall of lubricant. “I didn’t know this many different types of lubes existed.”
Numbing, heating, cooling, loosening, silicone, water-based, Martin feels a little in over his head. He looks over at Jon, thinking he’d be just as in awe, but Jon’s headed in the other direction, in the little room full of kink gear.
Was not expecting that. Martin thinks to himself as Jon busies himself looking through some of the harnesses. Bulldog, all over body harnesses, pup-play masks and paws, and—
Leashes and collars. They’ve talked about it before, after Martin had quite an intense orgasm with Jon’s hand around his throat. He dodn’t think Jon would remember, much less go out of his way to look.
Martin sees something shift within Jon as they start to look through the hung up collars. There are a number of different ones, with engraved letters saying different monikers: Daddy’s boy, Dumb Mutt, Mine, Owned, Pretty Girl. Martin’s quite taken by a dark green leather collar with an o-ring in the middle, the words Dumb and Pup carved on either side. He feels a heady, spacey sense threaten to overtake him.
“You like that too?” Jon says, pointing to the collar that’s still in Martin’s hand and Marin recognizes that tone of voice. There’s Jon, there’s the Jon that knows what to do.
Martin almost drops the collar, feeling like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Jon asks, raising an eyebrow, stepping closer to Martin. They’ve played this game before, Jon’s previous trepidation not found– maybe it’s because they’re alone in this little alcove, or maybe it’s because Martin’s so eager. That’s something to think about, at a later time, with more conversation. “Do you want it?”
“I– think it might be fun to try,” Martin murmurs, not used to being the shy one, the one whose stomach is in knots when presented with what to do. “You could tug me around while I blow you.”
Jon’s smirk is an embarrassing turn on. Smug looks good on him.
Martin can see the sign that says “Please Don’t Try On Unpurchased Collars In the Store,” but Jon reaches out and takes the collar in his hand. His look has a weight to it, as he meets Martin’s shamefully aroused gaze.
“Leash too?” Jon asks.
Martin can only nod, small, almost secretive nods of his head. Jon steps up to him, pressing a kiss under Martin’s ear as he blindly reaches for the collar’s mate. The kiss is soft, a quick press of his lips against Martin’s pressure point, but it leaves his legs wobbly.
“Good boy.” Jon hums in Martin’s ear before pulling back. Martin can’t help the whimper that leaves his mouth.
They quickly rush through the rest of the store, grabbing a little bottle of fake cum and the boxer harness in Jon’s size and high tail it out before they’re caught on camera actually fucking. The drive back has more traffic, leaving Martin with his leg closed, desperately squeezing together to rub his cock against his boxers. His hips rock back and forth, his cock rubbing against the seam of his jeans, and he’s embarrassed, mortified at how easy he is to turn on.
Jon reaches over at a stop light and quells Martin’s movements with hand in between his thighs before he can do anything more than keep himself turned on. Martin gasps, his hips desperately trying to cant up and grind against Jon’s hand.
“Come on, we’re still ten minutes away and I’m so–”
“Impatient, Martin. We’re going to make it home, and you’ll wait, and you’ll be rewarded handsomely.”
“Jon,” Martin whimpers.
“You wanted the collar, wanted me to control your movements, so I am. And you’re waiting.” Jon says, breaking his demeanor for a second to look at Martin. Martin takes the check in for what it is and nods.
“Yes, Sir,” Martin says, his hips stuttering as Jon's pinky trails up the seam of Martin’s flies.
Jon pulls away (quite evilly, Martin thinks), before turning onto the roundabout before their complex. Once they park, Martin has the good grace to wait until the key is out of the ignition before launching himself over the center console to kiss Jon.
Martin almost thinks he gets away with it, until Jon grips the curls at the base of his neck, pulling him away from Jon’s mouth.
“Down, boy.” Jon says, scratching blunt fingernails up the back of Martin’s head and neck. Shivers run down Martin’s spine, and it’s all he can do to sit back against the passenger side door.
He whimpers as he sees Jon quirk an eyebrow up, following his movements through by running his fingertips over Martin’s ears. Martin shivers, his cock throbbing with each pass of Jon’s fingers over the shell of his ears.
“Out,” Jon says, pointing through the windshield to the door of their flat. Martin scrambles out of the car, not needing a second command. He pulls his house keys out of his pocket, but it feels like Jon is hot on his heels, slipping his keys out of his hand. “Let me.”
His voice leaves no room for argument, jet black bag crinkling in his hand as they walk in. Martin goes to turn on the light as Jon closes and locks the door. “Jon—“
“We’re not done yet,” Jon says, pulling the leash out of the bag, holding it up— fuck, holding it up like a carrot on a stick, taunting him with it. “Don’t you want your pretty necklace?”
Martin’s heard Tim say that when he has to take the collar off of his bloody Pomeranian. He sees the self-satisfied smirk on Jon’s face, the knowledge that Martin’s made the connection.
“It wasn’t rhetorical, Pet,” Jon says. Martin'll say it again: smug is a really good look on Jon.
“I do.”
“You do what?” Jon’s voice is firmer this time, his fingers poised in the air, wrapped around the leash as if he had a treat, a clicker for a dog. Heat pools in Martin’s belly, his center of gravity shifting as he kneels down on the floor, sitting back on his heels.
“I want my pretty necklace,” he whimpers out, his eyes fluttering shut as he can’t bear to meet Jon’s gaze.
Jon cocks an eyebrow as he takes a step closer to Martin. Martin shifts his weight back on his heels, spreading his folded legs to fit Jon between them. Jon doesn’t move closer, just shakes the collar.
They haven’t talked much about honorifics, except for one time where Jon made Martin come so hard he saw stars, so Martin can’t help but take the leap.
“Master, I want my pretty necklace.” Martin says, slipping his hands behind his back. Jon nods quickly, carefully kneeling down in front of him and fastening the collar around his neck.
Martin feels the heavy weight of the leather around his neck and shudders, his hips twitching as Jon stands back up, threading his finger through the o-ring. He pulls Martin up to a full kneel, smirking as Martin cries out, his cock swollen and throbbing, each new position dragging wet fabric of his boxers against his length.
Jon tugs on it again, Martin letting out an undignified groan of pleasure. “What do we say, Puppy?”
“Thank you, Master.” Martin whimpers out, and Jon’s answering grin fills Martin with the caramelly goodness of the resounding praise:
Good boy.
This was not where Martin was expecting tonight to go, but when Jon attaches the leash and nods over to the direction of their room, Martin is all too pleased with how Jon tsks and shakes his head when Martin starts to get back on his feet. Martin feels the thrill, a rush of arousal flow through him as Jon guides him on all fours to crawl over to their bedroom. Jon is eager when he notices that Martin stays where Jon puts him, sitting back on his heels at the foot of the bed. Jon hums, smirking.
“Open up, Pretty Boy.” Jon says, sliding the handle of the leash into Martin’s mouth. Martin gently bites down on the handle, waiting with his hands poised back behind his back as Jon rummages in their draw for the dildo Martin was talking about. It’s normally one Martin uses on himself, so it’s up at the top of the pile, all charged.
For once, the waiting period is nice, a nice change of pace to see that Jon is just as nervous (and excited) about this as Martin is. Martin watches as Jon’s shaky hands uncap the bottle of fake cum, pouring it into the open hole of the dildo. He watches as Jon undresses with just enough haste to give away his own arousal, and Martin can see the little patch of wet fabric that also lets him know. Martin’s drooling, can’t stop it with the leash in his mouth. He knows more or less that when Jon is in charge, and there’s a gag in his mouth, it’s speak when you’re spoken to.
It doesn’t stop him from whining, however. Martin watches as Jon has to readjust his dick. He slides his fingers through his folds to no doubt catch his own slick, rubbing it over his swollen cock, and that’s not fair, that’s Martin’s job. Martin can’t help the whine that escapes through the makeshift gag, and feels a rush of pleasure when Jon’s hips twitch, the dark, salt and pepper curls at the base of his cock, coarse hair dampened with his arousal.
Martin wants, he wants that cock in his mouth, wants to bring his lover to orgasm, but they’ve talked about this prior, being good, Jon controlling him. Jon’s attaching the dildo to the harness and they’re so close to starting. Martin watches him slide on the boxers, fitting the base against his cock before walking over to Martin.
“That’s a good boy,” Jon says, pulling the leash handle out of his mouth. “You can undress and get on the bed, now. Thank you for waiting.”
Martin flushes at the pride, scrambling to pull off his clothes and kneel on the bed. “Thank you, Master. Can you— are you going to fuck me?”
“Do you think you deserve it?” Jon asks, his hand wrapped around his cock. It’s good, it fits him, and Martin can see the confidence shift.
Martin pouts, nodding. “I do, Sir.”
“You did wait all that time, and I did promise you a handsome reward.” Jon nods, settling on the bed. He tugs at the collar, guiding Martin’s head up to face him. “And you are such a good boy.”
Martin’s eyes flutter shut as he feels Jon pepper kisses from his lips to his ear, blowing air over the shell of his ear.
“Thank you, Master.”
“If I wasn’t so desperate to breed you like the mutt you are, I’d have you blow me, shoot this load down your throat,” Jon murmurs into Martin’s ear.
Martin gasps, the please escaping him before he knows what to do with himself. It’s almost a blur then, Jon pressing him with his back pressed down against the plush bedding, pulling the leash taut as he spreads Martin’s legs open. The movements almost come naturally to Jon, using his free hand to guide the dick over Martin’s own swollen clit, twitching and throbbing, begging for something, anything to push him over the edge.
“All I did was put this collar on you, I haven’t even fucked you yet,” Jon chuckles. “You do need to be bred like a bitch, huh?”
Martin gasps, choking out a yes as his hips meet Jon’s cock. Jon slides the head of his cock down, teasing at the rim of Martin’s front hole before sliding in at a brutal pace. Martin’s wet enough that it doesn’t hurt, but the way Jon growls out a moan as he fucks into Martin has his head spinning.
In, out, in, out. The only things Martin can process are the jingling of the leash chains, the brutal rubbing pace that Jon’s set against his g-spot, the slap of Jon’s hips against his thighs and– oh, that’s him, sobbing out moans.
“Do you think I could cum in you and slide a plug in? Have you keep it in during the work day so every time you move, you have a reminder right in your cunt that you belong to me, Martin.” Jon growls, using his free hand to shake and pet at Martin’s belly. “This belly is mine. Your cunt belongs to me.”
He tugs Martin into propping himself up on his elbows with how he’s pulling the leash. Martin lets out a wail, wrapping his legs around Jon’s back to try and pull him further in, until he bottoms out, not able to push in any more. Martin feels split open, his gaze going fuzzy as he paws for the vibrator they left on their side table.
“Yours, Jon—Master— I can’t, I’m so close. May I? May I please, please, please—” he begs incoherently, sobbing when Jon slides the wand from his already loose grip.
He turns on the wand, still keeping the brutal pace as he presses the wand against Martin’s clit on the second or third setting, not bothering with any of the lower levels. Martin can’t think straight, the room spinning as his vision whites with how fast his orgasm hits him like a train.
“Come on, love, come for me,” Jon says, tugging the leash one last time and that’s it.
Martin moans himself hoarse as he comes, clenching tight around the dildo. He’s not done, though. Not in the least. Jon turns up the vibrator to the highest setting, slowing down his thrusts, but not making them any more shallow.
“Have to make it worth your while, huh? You can give me another one,” Jon says, and Martin can hear the confident self satisfied attitude, even with how far away Jon sounds.
Yes, Martin can. Jon moves the vibrator in little circles, grinding into Martin with a practiced ease as if they’d been doing this the whole time. Martin’s sobbing from overstimulation, embarrassment with how fast he came and how quickly he’s raring up to do it again, but Jon isn’t stopping, in fact, he’s moaning out praises.
“So bloody tight,” he groans. “You were made for my cock.”
Martin wails out another moan, his cock throbbing desperately around the vibrator to the point where it’s almost ticklish.
“Not nice,” He whines.
“Not nice? You don’t want me to be nice, Puppy. You want me to make you cum.” Jon grins. “I’m doing what you want me to do. You asked me to do this.”
Martin’s shuddering now, fucking himself back against Jon’s cock and grinding up into the vibrator. He’s moaning out expletives, uncouth remarks about how Jon is splitting him open, fucking him raw, how they’ll get caught—
“I think everyone in London knows with how loud you are, Puppy. Why don’t you cum for me?” Jon asks, and it’s not a request. He presses the wand down harder against Martin’s cock, and Martin almost blacks out.
He comes to after his orgasm, shivering out Jon’s name.
“Okay, okay, okay—” Martin says, still feeling the ghost of the wand on his cock. Jon has already pulled out, curled around Martin, petting his hair and shushing him.
“So good, Martin. You did a wonderful job for me.” Jon says, pressing a kiss to Martin’s temple. Martin can’t move, having never come so hard his body hurts, but every day with Jon is in fact a new adventure.
Jon waits for Martin to regain the ability to speak before speaking again. Martin turns over, curling into Jon as he clutches his partner close to him.
“Thank you,” Martin says, feeling the toy pressed between them as Jon unclasps the collar from Martin’s neck. “That was— so fun.”
“You liked?” Jon asks. “We could definitely do that again.”
“I liked it and yes. Definitely would do again,” Martin says, taking a deep breath to center himself before adjusting back to his mischievous tone. “Would you? How was the harness?”
Jon’s cheeks are probably a permanent pink now with how he’s blushed today. “It was perfect. I— just what I needed.”
“I notice a distint lack of cum in me though,” Martin pouts, clenching his pelvic floor as if to check. “Was there some other place you wanted it?”
Jon’s gaze betrays him before his words do, with a quick glance to his belly. Martin grins, his smirk evident to Jon before he gets to speak.
“Would you like to?” Martin asks, rolling them back over so he’s straddling Jon’s thighs. “Do you wanna grind against my belly, Jon?”
Jon almost goes crosseyed he nods so fast. The cock is still moderately wet from Martin’s cum, so it doesn’t need any extra assistance when Martin starts moving his body to shake his belly against Jon’s dick. There’s a part of them, in this fantasy, that can feel the throbbing, heavy heat of Jon’s cock drag against the swell of his belly. How the crown of his cock catches in the folds of Martin’s stomach.
"Martin,” Jon moans, his hips grinding up unabashedly. Martin can see the wet fabric of Jon’s underwear betraying his arousal, knows that Jon’s dick is grinding against the base of the strap.
“Do you wanna cum on my belly?” Martin asks, reaching down in front of him to grip the base of Jon’s cock, finding the special button. Jon lets out a strangled groan, nodding as he watches Martin’s belly practically engulf his cock.
“So desperate for it,” Martin says, using his free hand to grab the wand and turn it on, settling the head under the base of Jon’s strap. Jon’s resounding groan is musical, a growl of desperate pleasure as he watches Martin jerk his strap off.
“Oh fuck,” Jon moans, grinding into Martin’s hand. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
“Do it, Jon, cum on my belly. Get me all dirty,” Martin whimpers out, grinding against Jon’s thighs.
He takes great care to make Jon’s strap ejaculate alongside his orgasm, chest heaving cries wracking Jon’s body. The ejaculation is powerful, catching all the way up to the top of Martin’s belly, threatening to stripe at his chest.
Martin feels dirty, desperate, used, and he loves it. He quickly scrambles to turn off the vibrator, rubbing his clean hand up and down Jon’s sides as Jon catches his breath.
“That was—”
“Insane.”
“Yeah,” Jon nods. “I didn’t know I— could be like that.”
“We definitely need to talk about…” Martin waves his hand over the leash. “Master, but I quite enjoyed that.”
Jon quirks an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, did you?”
“You did too, Mister,” Martin says, leaning down to kiss Jon, much to his dismay.
“Eugh, you’re disgusting,” Jon says, but makes no move to push Martin off. He instead, reaches between them to take the strap out and tosses it to the side so he can tangle himself closer in between Martin’s legs.
“You love it.”
“I do.”
“And we never even used the lingerie,” Martin pouts, half asleep. Jon lets out a strangled moan.
“You’re gonna kill me, I can’t think about you in lingerie now. Later, surprise me,” Jon says.
“Oh, you know I will.”
They’ll have to clean up and shower, sweat and cum drying on their skin leaving them sticky and tired, but they’re tangled up in the sheets, and that’s enough for them.