Work Header

Walking with Spiders

Chapter Text

Martin decided quite a long time ago that he didn't mind letting Peter fuck him. As ways to fall deeper into the Lonely go, it's not the worst one.

When they talk - Peter doesn't pretend to care about him, but at least he wants Martin. He talks to him, he needs him, even if it's not as Martin Blackwood, not really, just as an Eye person feeling very, very alone.

But when Peter's bending him over a table - it's clear then that he's just using him, that he's a man relying only on himself and pleasuring himself with a tool, and that Martin should do the same.

Martin does, most of the time, fucking himself on Peter's big cock, relishing the hurt, and the emotional hurt to be neglected. He loves it too much, but that's another problem.

Also, it makes what he's planning easier.

He does get cold and numb and alone, just like Peter wants him to. Just like he needs to be. Still Beholding, to open the gates of what is under the Institute. But with the power to isolate, to banish, to seal, so the Extinction can feed on itself for...

For long enough.

And at this moment, Martin is totally alone, and he loves it. He remembers that it wasn't always the case. He also remembers that it used to hurt.

Peter is, ironically, the one who breaks this. His praise feels cold and distant, but then he reminds Martin there's a place for him in his family, and Martin remembers. That he doesn't have one. Why he doesn't have one.

He thinks about Jon. About the tape Jon left him.

Slowly Martin remembers other people, he remembers feelings, the awfulness of them. Resentment comes first, and then, his perfect emotionless balance lost, all the others, all the feelings that bind and support and manipulate. And then he can feel it again, the invisible thread he left in his wake, not to get lost.

He kisses Peter for the first time. Peter doesn't reject him - because he wants to celebrate his victory, probably, but he doesn't put all his power into not caring, and that's enough of a mistake for Martin to act.

I know you don't want me to ask you questions, Jon's tape said, so I won't face you. I know you don't want to talk about... feelings, so I will only tell you some truths. It's the only thing I'm good at, after all. I don't even know if you'll listen to it.

Martin had still had the heart to laugh at the time. It was the most feelings Jon had ever showed him, but he was not lying. He was just bad at recognizing them. He always had been. In his trembling voice, he talked to Martin, and it was impossible not to listen to all of it.

And Martin believed every word.

As they kiss, Martin weaves a thread between his mouth and Peter's mouth, his mind and Peter's mind. Peter starts to open Martin's shirt, and Martin lets him, of course. It's nothing new. It costs him nothing, and each time Peter touches his skin, he gets caught a bit more in an invisible trap.

Martin doesn't say a word to him, doesn't say what he wants, what he feels. Peter isn't suspicious. Martin stopped trying some time ago.

Belonging to more than one Power is something Peter taught him. But Jon helped him to understand more about it, because he had different hopes for Martin than Peter had. He included in his tape a copy of Mike Crew explaining how he escaped the Spiral, of Julia Montauk telling how she escaped the Dark.

Martin wondered, though. Did he know which Power suited Martin? Did he know what he would do? The Eye has no way to see the future, but maybe this is more what Martin is, deep inside.

Choices matter, everyone says. But of course, you can only ever choose to be yourself.

So Martin belongs to the spiders now.

Peter pushes Martin against the wall, firm, but not harsh. Martin wonders if Peter knows that Martin likes it better harsh.

Martin lets Peter trap himself in Martin's body and thinks about Jon.

He feels the thread between them, that would have been torn a long time ago if not for repairing it with care on both sides. It still stands. Martin would like to think it means it's tried and true, but it's still the weakest it ever was.

Peter was... I'm sorry, said the tape. Peter was the cause of your mother's death. I have no proof. I know it to be truth, because my God seemingly likes to put awful truths in my head. I hope and fear it makes a difference to you.

There was a thread there too, that death hadn't cut, not when years of hate couldn't.

Maybe it was not a good one. But one forgets what good and bad are. At some point, all that is left are spider webs.

He couldn't have caught Peter in more normal circumstances. Lonely people are too elusive. But the fucking, it simulates human contact enough, and then Martin has Peter in his grasp, and he pulls.

Peter groans and bites Martin's shoulder, suddenly passionate; he thrusts harder, his hands on Martin's hips...

"Oh, fuck you," he groans when he realizes he shouldn't want Martin that much, he shouldn't feel anything. He tries to make Martin go, into a dimension where he will be all alone, but they're linked and he can't. He can't flee either, can't either pull out or stop moving, and then Martin has him move and kiss and squeeze exactly like Martin wants him to. Martin comes hard. Peter doesn't.

Martin smiles when he kisses Peter's cheek. "Leave the Institute." he just says. "Don't come back. You've had what you wanted. A chance at your ritual when the time comes. You won't get more."

Peter is smiling. Martin allowed it, but it's still annoying. "For now, you win," Peter says. "But you'll regret this. Far more than I do now."

Martin thinks about Peter's family. He thinks about his mother. He thinks about Jon.

I miss you, Jon said. I want you to know this hasn't changed. Even if it doesn't change your mind. Even if you can feed on it somehow.

"Allow me to doubt it," Martin answers with a too wide smile, the idea of seeing Jon again making his heart race. Or maybe it’s the rush of power. Maybe it’s the same thing, having control over his life again?

After letting Peter disappear, Martin sits on his chair - Elias' chair - for a while. He could get used to it.