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Hard Nights

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The worms might still come.

Martin felt such a burst of joy and hope, and - yes, love - after Jon allowed him to stay in the Archives. He felt like it would fix everything. It hasn't.

Of course, he's still grateful of being able to stay here. It would be ten thousand times worse at home. He wouldn't be able to sleep or to function at all.

Right now he's lying on the narrow bunk, under the sheet and coarse blanket, and is deliciously tempted to think about Jon sleeping here. Martin can spend so much time to wonder if Jon looks relaxed at last in his sleep, or if he moves and scowls at his nightmares like he could make them leave out of sheer contempt.

It's dangerous for Martin, to imagine Jon here, to think about touching his face or his hair while he sleeps, even sharing the mattress, where they would be so close... but at least, while he's softly clawing at his own heart, he doesn't think about the worms.

And then - it's coming again. A memory of fear so strong, so sudden, that it's still terror itself. In his mind, even as he's touching Jon with the tip of his fingers, some worms are swarming from under his nails. Before he has any time to move, they're jumping on Jon's face and start to jump into his eyes, into his brains.

Jon opens his mouth. It's your fault, Martin, you brought them to me, he manages to say, before the worms choke him.

And then Martin is crying in his hands, and he wants to go and get a tissue so as not to ruin Jon's bed, but he feels like the whole floor around the bed is all crawling worms, waiting for him... He can't move. He can't even bring himself to look, in the light of the small lightbulb he always leaves on. He will get eaten, and then... and then the others... he hopes he ends up like a rotten corpse, not like a bag of worms looking like a person, carrying the disease to people who trust it...

He hears a door opening.

His blood freezes in his veins, but probably something in his hindbrain knows that it's probably not a worm. So he moves. He takes his corkscrew in his hand, points it towards him, and looks.

He can see Elias standing in the doorframe. He can also see that there is no sea of worms on the floor - if they are here, it's only a few of them, hidden in the corners, watching him, waiting...

He shivers, and then realizes he's still threatening his boss with a corkscrew. He lowers it, probably more slowly than is polite.

"You're not feeling well, Martin." Elias says.

Yeah, it's obvious. And you? Feeling good about all this? Martin wants to ask, but all he would gain with insolence would probably being thrown away, getting back home... He can't get back. He can't feel even worse then he feels there.

"I'm just worried about the worms," he answers in a pitiful tone. "I know I'm protected here, but I don't feel... could you close the door, please?" It was not opened before, and it didn't stop him to make a mess of himself.

Elias smiles and nods, and then closes the door. Martin feels suddenly very aware that they are both alone, that probably no one else is in the building, and that he's sitting on a bed. It's not - at least it's not thinking about the worms, so he lets himself go down this perilous slope, look at Elias' well-fitting suit and elegant haircut and high cheekbones, and still think I wish it was Jon instead and feel ashamed for it. Jon doesn't want him.

Elias walks towards him, gets really close. He now towers over Martin, who feels very exposed in his tee-shirt and boxers. He pulls up the sheet to at least hide his legs. Elias looks at him as he does it, and his face clearly shows Martin has something to hide. It makes Martin's cheeks go burning with blood.

"Don't worry," Elias answers. "You're absolutely safe here. It was Jon's bed, and he was meant to be totally safe, more than anywhere else."

Martin feels a surge of guilt and worry for Jon, shivers from head to toe. Maybe Elias wishes it was Jon instead of Martin here, too. But for other reasons. Certainly for other reasons.

"You need to unwind, Martin," Elias answers. Of course, he's talking about the worms. Probably. Martin looks down just a bit, and has a clear flash of himself nuzzling Elias' trousers, breathing in his scent.

This isn’t what he wants! The more he loves Jon, the dirtier he finds the idea of having sex with someone else. He isn't even sure it would make him forget the worms (of course it would, but for too short a time).

"Do you wish to get back to the second floor, Martin?" Martin looks at him without understanding. "As a researcher job, I mean? Would it make things better?"

Would it? The Archives seem like Martin's only defense these days. The worms still know where he lives, and he needs to see Jon. It's the only thing keeping him... sane is not the word. But functional. For Jon he still wants to get up and work, just to show he can.

Jon deserves it more than him, he knows this. But he can't let go. It's all he has.

He shakes his head. "Please," he asks. "I want to stay."

Elias has a wide smile, hearing this, and Martin isn't sure why, but he has the feeling Elias just loves to hear him beg.

"I don't want there to be a misunderstanding, Martin. I like having you there." And then he's taking Martin's head in his hands, cradling him with his long fingers. The way he touches his hair and neck, massages his temples - it's delightful, one touch away from pure ecstasy.

Martin lets go. He buries his face into Elias' stomach and lets himself be comforted like a pet. It's totally inappropriate and he can't stop, can't reject this.

When Elias lowers his head a bit, firm and almost tender, Martin doesn't hesitate to give him when he wants, because otherwise Elias could leave him alone with his nightmares. He has done worse things for less; why would he pretend that he has any innocence to keep? He opens Elias' trousers, and soon has his cock in his mouth.

The shame is familiar. He shouldn't do this, he shouldn't have to do this to prove himself valuable, he shouldn't wildly depend on others assigning him value. He should even less enjoy this. But Elias' cock tastes good, and his hands are still wonderfully playing with his hair and skin. Martin sucks harder, trying to get a sound of appreciation from him. He's hard. He's not sure when he started being hard. He touches Elias' long thighs, then grabs his ass as he's trying to take his cock as good as he can. His legs are getting uncomfortable, but he doesn't want to stop. Elias pulls his hair, and he moans.

"You're so starved for cock," Elias whispers, in a tone that makes all of Martin's body shiver. "You're the one who should owe me a favour after this, I think. Remove this sheet."

Martin obeys; his hard cock is very visible against his thigh, the shape underlined by the too-tight briefs. One can even see the head, and a growing wet stain.

Then Elias thrusts just one time, and comes in Martin's throat. He watches him choke and cry a bit and hope he won't have semen going out his nose. And still, Martin is even more turned on by this silent judgement. He can almost feel his smile, like a teasing breath on his skin.

"Yes, I think you should at least thank me," Elias comments. He tucks himself back into his pants. He's not even breathing fast. Maybe he did, but at a time when Martin was too wrecked to notice.

"Thank you," Martin answers without even thinking. His skin is both hot and cold. He needs to be touched so badly.

"What else do you want?" Elias asks.

"I want... I want to come. Please."

"That's all?" Elias answers, and he sniggers. "I think you can quite manage this one by yourself."

And then he turns his back and starts leaving. Martin should feel relieved. He doesn't. But he still can't call Elias back, not when he's right. Martin doesn't care about him, not really, so why does he feel so empty? He wishes Elias would look at him.

"It's clear you'd prefer to think about Jon anyway," Elias comments. "Don't be coy about it. You're in his bed. Yes, you want to be watched. Imagine he's the one doing it. Imagine he will know every one of your movements, of your filthy thoughts, next time he sleeps here. he will know what you have done to me, lying in the ghost of your pleasure and mine. You would love it, wouldn't you, you filthy boy?"

Martin's cheeks burn and his cock twitches. He's so hard and burning, and it seems like every corner of the room is full of Jon's eyes, looking at him, judging him and finding him lacking. He desperately wants to please himself. He won’t do this, he can’t.

"Good night," Elias says, closing the door.