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Turn the Key Until It Breaks

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The creaking of the door didn’t wake Martin, nor did Elias’s quiet steps as he slipped into the office. The others had long left. Martin hadn’t yet fallen asleep at Jon’s desk then.

With a gentle hand on Martin's shoulder, Elias called out to him. The man's muscles tensed instantly, and he shot up, turning his head, blinking against the ceiling light. When he saw Elias, his face fell with disappointment. The expression was quickly replaced by one of discomfort as his eyes darted towards his shoulder. Elias's hand remained in place.

“Were you expecting someone else, Martin?” He imitated Basira’s playful tone, reckoning that Martin’s reply would be delivered in a similarly flustered manner as during one of their interactions Elias had witnessed previously. Instead, Martin’s shoulders drooped, and there was more than just a hint of bitter resignation in his voice when he finally answered.

“Actually, no. I didn’t.”

Perhaps the exhaustion brought out the truth, making him unwilling to bother dancing around the issue in a way that betrayed his eagerness to talk about it. Or perhaps he simply didn’t want to talk to him.

Still, when Elias gave Martin’s shoulder a light squeeze, he looked up at him with such a raw expression on his face that Elias was certain if he just insisted, Martin would open up to him. After all, he was the only one willing to talk to him these days, not fleeing the room when he entered. Maybe it was because he realised that they had some things in common after all.

He withdrew his hand, not without brushing his fingertips against Martin’s stubbled jaw as if by accident. His eyes widened, revealing a desperation that Elias relished.

“You should go home, Martin. Get some sleep. But rest assured, your willingness to stay late will not go unmentioned during your performance review.”

Just as he was turning away, Martin raised his hand, as if to reach out to him. Elias pretended not to see and wished him good night as he exited the room.

Martin continued staying late. He worked hard to fulfil every smallest task Jon asked of him to his best abilities. Upon finishing, he would always text him immediately, then distract himself with the next task while he waited for a reply. Sometimes, Jon even called instead of just typing out instructions. The calls never lasted longer than a couple of minutes, but their effect on Martin’s mood was undeniable. His smile seemed to turn even the Archives into a much more welcoming place.

Jon hadn’t called in two weeks. And Martin worked harder, checking files, making calls, recording statement after statement until he was too exhausted to speak. It wasn’t long until he fell asleep while going through a list of names Jon had sent him. Elias decided it was time to pay him another visit.

When Elias woke him, Martin almost seemed to expect him. His shoulder relaxed under Elias’s touch after the initial surprise.

“Still working at such a time?” he asked.

Martin nodded. “Jon wants to know if any of these people have left any statements. It sounded urgent. I should-“

“Jon has gone to bed already.”

Martin stilled. “Oh.” Then he swallowed. “Well, I mean, he's pretty busy, and I was sleeping too, right? So…”

“So, you should leave it for tomorrow,” Elias said. “Or would you prefer risking missing important details? You know what’s at stake here.”

“I...” Martin was breathing harder now, shaking slightly. Elias gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Don’t worry, your contributions are appreciated. Very much so, in fact. And not just by Jon.”

Martin flushed. Elias took it as his cue to run his hand down his arm.

“Elias, I…”

“I think you deserve a little break, Martin. Just tell me what you need,” he whispered into his ear, watching goose bumps prickle on his skin.

Martin tried again, but he seemed at a loss for words. The rejection hung in the air as Martin placed a hand on his, and Elias wondered whether he had acted too soon. But then Martin moved Elias’s hand towards his heaving chest, right above his wildly thumping heart. It was all the answer Elias needed.

He lowered his lips onto Martin’s neck. It was just a kiss, lightly grazing his skin, but the effect was immediate. Martin’s gasp cut through the silence, the old office chair’s wheels scraping against the floor with his jumpy movement.

“Sorry!” Martin hurried to say.

“Don’t be.” Elias kissed his neck again. Martin managed to hold still, but he couldn’t bite down on the sounds. Not when Elias’s hand was slowly working its way between Martin’s legs, which he spread for him obediently; he didn’t resist when Elias started opening his belt and trousers.

It was remarkably similar to how he had pictured it, Elias mused, letting one of his hands rest on the back of Jon’s chair as he grasped Martin’s cock, hard and twitching against his palm. He wondered if Martin felt the same way as he gripped the edge of Jon’s desk.

It didn’t take long for Martin to come knocking at Elias’s office door, just after hours.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” he said, and Elias couldn’t help wondering if Martin had hoped he wouldn’t be. But he had made the choice to knock. And his indecisive hovering just begged for instructions, which Elias was happy to provide.

Lock the door.

Come over here.

Get on your knees.

Once he’d followed through, Martin seemed quite keen to take the initiative. Elias did not object. Truly, he relished the sheer reverence with which Martin kissed his cock. A tantalising brush of lips against his tip, a hint of tongue along his shaft, the almost reluctant gentleness belying his eagerness. He did not test Elias’s patience for too long, welcoming him into his mouth, hot and slick and ready to take him deeper than Elias had expected. All the while, Martin rested his hands gently Elias’s thighs, not withholding caresses whenever he needed to catch his breath.

None of Martin’s effort was intended for him; Elias could tell by the way Martin kept his eyes resolutely shut as he sucked on his cock that he was only thinking of Jon. He took no offence. After all, Elias kept his eyes closed because he was watching Jon, who was lying prone on his bed, engrossed in a book about taxidermy, absentmindedly twirling a pen between skilled fingers. It wandered between his lips from time to time, and Jon sucked on it, so gently, letting it bob up and down with the push of his tongue. Elias smiled and stroked Martin's hair with a tenderness that wasn't directed at him.

The next couple of days, Martin avoided him, ducking into whatever room was convenient when he spotted him. Sometimes, he would just turn around entirely. Elias didn’t push. There was no need to.

Soon enough, Martin found his way back to Elias’s office.

“Have you told Jon?” he asked right after closing the door behind him. He looked pale, as if he hadn’t slept in a while, and his eyes were red. His lips trembled.

“No,” Elias answered truthfully. “What gave you that impression?”

Martin ran a hand through his hair. “He… he called. And he told me to… stay away from you. Why would he say that right now?” His voice cracked at the last word.

Elias smiled. “Do you think he’s wrong to tell you that?”

Martin balled his fists. “Obviously not! But…”

“I can assure you, Martin, he doesn’t know.” What he didn’t tell Martin was that Jon knew something between them had changed. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe he soon would, at the pace his powers were developing. The thought of it sent an odd thrill coursing through his body, and he decided to indulge Martin a little, planting the certainty that Jon wasn’t aware of their little meetings right into his mind. Not in a forceful way that would have revealed his use of his powers, just enough to let Martin believe his words, which he was desperate to anyway. Lest he fell apart and accidentally spilled the truth to Jon.

The effect was instantaneous. Martin took a deep breath, as if a constriction around his lungs had vanished. But he still looked anxious.

“Let’s agree to keep this between the two of us, alright?”

Martin did agree. He turned around to open the door again, ready to flee the office.

“While you’re already here, Martin…” Elias began, and Martin stilled, handle in hand. “Lock the door.”

There was no need to constantly dangle gentle reminders about the importance of not bothering Jon with the issue above his head; Martin did a fine job of that himself. And Elias rarely needed him. Most of the time he asked him to come to his office, it was purely on a whim, a desire for distraction. All he had to do was ask if Jon had called again, and Martin would show up sooner or later.

Martin’s hands would always tremble when Jon phoned these days.

Elias had called for Martin six minutes ago. It shouldn’t have taken him as long to make his way from the basement to his office. Melanie hadn't even asked where Martin was going, but he had still felt the need to come up with an excuse. The man was stalling, he always was. It wasn’t the right time for that. Not as Jon was making his way to his hotel room, hair slick with sweat and blood. The remnants of a danger he had escaped by taking his compulsion powers to a different level. There was still a glint in his eyes. If he felt the pain from his injury, it was overshadowed by his near-palpable excitement. And his hands were not shaking from exhaustion as he fumbled with the key. Elias had seen him that way before, just twice. But it was enough to recognise the pattern.

Elias caught Martin right at the door, which he locked himself. Then he dragged Martin over to the desk and pushed him onto the wooden surface with a strong hand on his back.

“Wait!” Martin tried to raise himself up, but Elias held him down easily.

“Be good, Martin. And I’ll make this good for you.”



He opened Martin’s trousers and pushed them down along with his boxers. Martin’s legs trembled as he pushed them apart. He tried to speak again, but Elias cut him off sharply. So he just kept still. He always did.

The preparation was hurried, the images of Jon undressing for a shower flooding Elias’s mind as he thrust slick fingers into Martin. Jon was already hard. Elias was too. Martin’s cock hung soft between his legs, and Elias paid it no mind as he continued. No need to make him tense up further. Instead, he placed his free hand on Martin’s hip, providing some reassuring steadiness, caressing him with his thumb. All that mattered to Elias was Martin being ready and open for him, and soon. 

Finally, just as Jon stepped into the shower, Elias sank into Martin, a single smooth motion he relished with a drawn-out groan. The contrast between the hot tightness enveloping him and the warm water he could practically feel cascading down his body sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. He could even afford giving Martin a little more time to adjust.

Leaning over Martin, he licked a lazy line across his neck, the tip of his tongue lingering over the racing pulse. Martin tensed, a chocked sound escaping his throat. Then he forced himself to relax again through deep breaths.

“Well done, Martin,” Elias whispered, pressing his body closer to Martin’s, going deeper still, hands on the desk to keep his balance. “Do you want to hear about Jon?”

This time, Martin nearly managed to push himself up, wincing at his sudden motion.

“What do you mean?” he asked, voice high-pitched. “Please, Elias, I-”

Elias pressed him down onto the desk again. Gave a short thrust as he kissed his ear. Somewhere in the room, a tape recorder clicked on. It was the signal to start setting the scene for Martin. A cramped shower with cracked tiles, barely enough room for one. Water pressure set so low, it felt like soft summer rain.

“But softness isn’t what Jon needs right now,” Elias said, and gave Martin another sharp thrust that had him gasping.

Jon hadn’t bothered washing the blood out of his hair, but it was a detail Elias was allowed to keep to himself.

“The tiles are cold against his back. He’s shivering,” he continued. Between the sight of Jon’s hand slowly wandering from his hip towards his ass, and the sound of Martin’s heavy breathing mixing with quiet moans as Elias fucked him at a slow pace, he found it hard to keep his voice clear and precise. It got rougher when he began describing the way Jon teased at his entrance, testing with one finger first, then pushing in two, only slick with water. He groaned quietly, and Elias’s hips bucked.

“It hurts a little,” he whispered to Martin. “But Jon likes that. He needs that.”

He started mimicking the rhythm of Jon’s thrusts, not hesitating to tell Martin so. And when Jon reached for his cock, Elias reached around for Martin’s, pleased to find it now hard and pulsing with need.

The air was filled with the sound of their breathing, the slap of skin against skin, the rattling of the items on the desk, accompanied by the ever-present ticking of the clock and quiet whirring of the tape recorder. In Elias’s mind, the noise joined the pattering of the water against the blood-stained shower basin, which would have drowned out the sounds Jon made for anyone outside the tiny bathroom. But not for Elias, who heard him loud and clear, as if he was truly there with him, their bodies flush against one another, a hand tangled in Jon's hair to turn his head towards him so he could drink in every single one of his moans.

Martin had gone quiet, straining his neck towards Elias.

“Do you want to hear more?”

Flinching, Martin dropped his head and hid his face in the crook of his arm. There was a small sob. Then he nodded.

Elias continued, describing the flush that bloomed on Jon’s cheeks and chest, such a beautiful shade of red, just like the marks he'd left on Martin's neck during their first night together. It was an image Elias could have shared with Martin, but he didn’t. The sight of Jon in his pleasure belonged to him alone.

Elias stroked Martin the way Jon stroked himself, mentioning that little twist of the wrist that he liked, just when he was about to reach the head. His other hand went up Martin’s side, pushing up his shirt so he could feel his bare skin. It burned beneath his touch, just like he imagined Jon’s would despite the cool water. And he would writhe against him, just like Martin did. But when Jon let go, so did he.

“Jon is close now,” Elias murmured. “But he doesn’t want to come with his hand on his cock.”

He adjusted his angle slightly as Jon started curving his fingers searchingly. Gave Martin a thrust that had his knees buckling beneath him as he moaned so that Elias had to bodily pin him against the desk.

“Can you come like that, Martin?” Elias asked, hitting that spot again. “For me? For Jon?”

Pure desperation emanated from Martin’s jerky nods. “Yes!” he gasped.

Elias smiled and stood straight, gripping Martin’s hips. Then he finally let himself go, thrusting hard into the quivering body beneath him as he kept his eyes on Jon, watching him slam a hand against the wall to brace himself, to hold himself up on his shaking legs. And when he finally moaned through his orgasm, Elias could hear no other sound in the world.

After spilling himself inside Martin, Elias sank back down against him. His voice was breathless as he told Martin about Jon’s release. Martin’s body had gone slack beneath him, his back only rising and falling with the deep breaths he took. His cock was spent and slick when Elias brushed his hand against it. Jon was still leaning against the wall, watching the evidence of his pain and his pleasure mix and disappear down the drain. Somewhere in the room, the tape recorder turned itself off again.

Elias pulled out of Martin and reached for the box of tissues on the desk to clean himself up. He left it within Martin’s reach, then went around his desk.

“I have work to do now, Martin.” He caressed Martin’s wet cheeks. “And so do you, I believe. Didn’t Jon ask you to do some research for him today? He’ll need it.”

Fresh tears welled up in Martin’s eyes. But he didn’t say anything as he pushed himself up. He just nodded.