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“Jon,” Elias lets out a sigh that sounds more like a frustrated growl. “Bloody Hell.”
He gets up, swallowing at the heavy gaze the other man is reserving him. Jon is leaning against the door frame of his office, hands playing aimlessly with the hem of his disheveled shirt.
“For God’s sake,” Elias closes the distance between them, raises a hand wanting, thriving to stroke Jon’s cheek, but stops himself. If Jon gets a glimpse of his unsteadyness, he does not show it. “Go to sleep. You look terrible.”
“I can’t sleep, Elias.” His answer comes immediately, his glare intensifying. As if it’s Elias’ fault. It technically is. “I can’t eat, I can’t live anymore.” His hands grip the edge of the door until his knuckles become white and Elias wants nothing more than to graze his fingers over Jon’s tense muscles but he, once again, practises restrain. He’s glad Jon has his big load of issues to tend to rather than trying to read his mind, or otherwise, he would have found himself in a mighty unfine predicament.
“Elias,” Jon’s plea comes out softy, and it can also be mistaken for a quiet whine. “I don’t know what to do. And I didn't know where else to go. It's your fault, so you're going to fix it.”
Elias looks at him, with immense patience. He opts for a friendly but still formal pat on the shoulder. “Come inside, have a seat. Then you can try to explain what’s wrong. And then we can find a solution together.”
Jon glares at him, the desperation in his gaze turning to anger.
“Oh yeah? Together? Like with Jane Prentiss? Or Orsinov? That was all me, Elias.”
Elias sighs. He’s about to speak but Jon stops him again. “And why aren’t you using your telepathy now, hm? Gaze into my brain to figure out how much I want to punch you.”
Elias hums. He thinks it’s beneficial for Jon to lash out and not bottle up but he’s not fond of his pet taking his frustrations out on him. He’d rather have him close and pliant. But Jon is easy to read. He can push a bit.
“If you think you can manage by yourself, then be my guest. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turns around and lets out a relieved sigh upon Jon grabbing his sleeve.
“The problem is… I can’t do anything. It’s like my brain is in ultra-speed mode but I can’t focus on anything. I read a statement and I grieve because I wanted to be there with those people, I wanted to See them, and not because of research purposes. I couldn’t care less about that. You're… you're more versed in this… stuff, so tell me what I can do… not to feel like this.” Jon’s admission comes out quietly, almost as if he’s ashamed of what he just confessed.
“If you don’t care about researching the statements, why do you want to read them?”
Jon looks at Elias all wide-eyed, his lips slightly parted in surprise, and Elias wishes to kiss him, like he did so many times in the past. Once more, he stops.
“I… I…” Jon shakes his head, almost as if he's hit by a realization he doesn't want to acknowledge. “I don't k-”
“Oh, please.” Elias chuckles darkly, not letting him finish. He likes it when Jon plays hard to get but it's getting ridiculous.
“Okay, naturally. I can't lie to you.” Jon shifts his weight forward, bumping his shoulder against Elias'. “I… long. For statements, to take in their fears and-”
“Feed our master, yes. Very good, Jon. You pass with flying colors.”
Jon lets out a long sigh.
“So then, enlighten me, Beholding expert.”
“It's not so complicated, really. You need to eat.”
“I told you I'm not-”
“Jon.” Elias clicks his tongue, as if he's a child making the same silly mistake for the umpteenth time. “You need to eat properly .”
The younger man looks at him, his gaze mixed with want and desolation. He knows the answer, he just needs to accept it.
“It’s alright. I won't leave you alone. I never did, actually, even when you thought you were, I was always watching you, overseeing you grow marvelously. Just tell me when you're ready. And we can go together. Okay?”
“What about him?” Elias gently nudges Jon who abruptly turns toward the shown direction and then squeezes his eyes. “The… the one with the blue coat or… or the one with the stupid hat?”
“That's not a stupid hat, Jon. I own a similar one.”
Jon snorts in a weirdly self-satisfied way, seemingly forgetting his own nervousness and obsessive fidgeting for a split moment.
“But great job. You're starting to use your powers more unconsciously and efficiently.”
The scowl returns on Jon's face.
“Yeah, I should use them to understand the people you're showing me since you…” Jon grimaces and massages his forehead with two fingers. “You told me it's rude to point at people.”
“Mh, mainly because you were the one complaining that we were, how did you put it…” Elias makes a pensive face, clearly mocking Jon.
“Yes, it's like we're window shopping and it's very unsettling. It's insane and…”
Jon starts digging his nails into his hair, scratching his scalp frantically. Elias is having none of it, and grabs his hand, gently nudging it away. Jon grumbles at first but indulges him, his gaze going unfocused for fractions of seconds. The older man thinks he has earned the right to allow himself to stroke Jon's hair. It doesn't help that Jon, instead of jerking away as he would have in any other situation, is leaning into the touch. When Jon finally looks at Elias again, the latter has a small moment of weakness. It would be so easy to close the distance between them and place his lips over Jon's, to know how they actually taste, and how sweet his helpless whimpers would sound. When Elias' hand moves to Jon's cheek and he actually tilts his head to meet his touch, it's unbearable. He looks dangerously similar to a cat, and bloody hell, Elias isn't going to forget seeing Jon in such an adorable state for as long as he lives. Which he hopes to be for a long time if he doesn't mess everything up by trying to get close to his chosen and perfect Archivist too soon. Reluctantly, very reluctantly, Elias moves his hand away from the warmth of Jon's cheek and his Archivist lets out a grumpy sigh at the loss of contact, biting his lips. Elias has to cater to all of his self-control not to just pin Jon between him and the nearest wall to hold him and kiss him and–
“Mr Bouchard?”
Elias turns and looks at the tiny middle-aged man who called him. He silently thanks his master, if he even has a right to, for sending him a distraction from these dangerous thoughts about Jon.
“Mr Anderson, what a coincidence.”
Elias chuckles, feeling Jon's offended stare at him. He will catch up soon. “How are you doing? It was a pity not having you at the last institute’s party.”
“Oh yes, right. I… wanted to join but I had… some… complications. I hope to manage next year.” The man smiles nervously while trying to avoid either Elias' piercing gaze or Jon's frowning one. “Oh. I hope I didn't disturb you and…”
Anderson stops mid-sentence, finally acknowledging Jon's presence. “You and your…?” He tentatively says, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. Jon doesn't catch the drift, apparently, but Elias still slides a possessive hand over Jon's shoulders, prompting him to turn and greet their new guest.
“Oh no, no. He's the Head Archivist of the Institute, actually. I'm sure you must have seen him at the parties, but probably never got the chance to get to know each other. Jon?” He gently pushes Jon forward and knows that the man must be swearing at him under his breath. Patience, Jon. Do you really think I would start talking to a random acquaintance when you're so in need of a meal?
“Jonathan Sims.” Jon merely says, not letting the scowl out of his face.
“Thomas Anderson.” The man politely introduces himself, as expected from one of the Institute's donors. Always ready for trivialities and formalities even with the less agreeable folks. Jon reluctantly shakes his hand.
“My Head Archivist has been a tremendous help, lately. Really, I don't know what I would do if the Archives weren't in his capable hands. I'm very pleased to have chosen such a good fit for this job.”
“Elias, please,” Jon scoffs at the praise, despite reveling in it, but still also feeling that deep longing for fear which makes him unable to enjoy it to the fullest. “I'm not doing much. I just collect the statements and record them, and-” Jon takes a long breath.
“Oh, you're one of the guys in charge of the statements? Then-”
Anderson can't finish his sentence because Jon is faster. He immediately meets the man's gaze for the first time, eyes widened impossibly. He surges forward, making the other take a step back in response.
“Tell me what happened.” He says those hushed words as if he's been craving to let them out of his body for years. “Tell me about the online auction.”
The man trembles, in fear and due to Jon's powers. Jon takes a step forward, looming over the other despite both their minute frames.
He swallows as if he's drunk water for the first time after forty days in the desert.
“Statement of Thomas Anderson, regarding his attendance at the Vintiqa Auction and its consequent happenings.”
The man widens his eyes…
“Statement begins.”
And starts talking.
“I… uh, I didn't want to attend that auction. I don't know what came over me when I clicked on the link provided in the email they sent me.”
The man reluctantly starts, his voice shaky both from his fear slowly crawling back to haunt him and Jon's compelling. Elias closes the distance between him and Jon again. Jon doesn't seem to notice when he slowly brings his hand upward, mindlessly trailing the shape of his spine, to finally tangle again in his hair.
“No, forget it, I usually join online auctions, even if my girlfriend says that I always get scammed in the end. But it's, how to put it, it's thrilling to bid, to override someone else's offer, when the host declares you the winner. I just can't get enough of that feeling, even if I end up buying collector's merchandise I don't really grasp the value of, as Lydia likes to put it. Anyway, I found this newly established agency, Vintiqa, which apparently deals in antiques and old stuff. You know? The things that should really be shown in a museum but rich people buy for themselves. Those kinds of things. Anyway, Vintiqa was on my radar for a while now but I had never attended their auctions before. The thing with Vintiqa is that they don't have scheduled auctions and even when they do, they are so rare that it was impossible for me to join one. I always noticed their email in my spam folder too late or couldn't join due to real-life nuisances like Lydia's mom being hospitalized. This went on for a while. But then. A few weeks ago, I finally got the email in time for my so desperately coveted auction.”
Jon's breathing starts to even and he rests his head against Elias, his body leaning over his, silently asking for support. The older man lets him, his nose ticked by Jon's strands and he's so tempted to place a kiss over his Archivist's soft skin. He's sure Jon won't notice. His mouth is dangerously close to Jon's ear and all Elias wants to do is to bite his lobe. What brings him back to reality is Jon uttering some unintelligible words under his breath.
He has to be patient. He massages Jon's temple and tries to concentrate on the man's story. The man frowns at their display, but he's unable to stop talking.
“So I joined the auction. It was great. There was stuff I'd never seen before in an antique dealings auction, I mean, one of the bidding lots contained the real bandages of a real mummified pharaoh! Isn't this the stuff you find at the British Museum? You can't blame me for wanting to know everything they were offering, I was already so torn on what to place my bids on! And so I scrolled through the first two pages, happily doing my research on weird stuff I didn't even know could exist in our world. That was until I reached bidding lot number 37. With the other lots, you could click on their number and you could get a pop-up window with the item description. When I clicked on lot 37, the window appeared normally but there were two single written words in the description field.”
The man stops to catch his breath, whimpering in pain and not wishing to continue. Jon jerks forward, making Elias sigh.
“Go on.”
“No, I… probably it was a bad idea, I should've just… I shouldn't have told you and-”
“I said. Go on.” Jon repeats his command, more harshly, and Elias grimaces at the intensity of Jon's powers, the static affecting even his trained mind.
“I suggest you don't resist him. This could end very badly for you.” Elias simply says, shrugging as he speaks with Anderson. The latter looks desperate and he silently asks Elias for help. This would be a great time to kiss Jon, to show off. Alas, Elias stops once again. He doesn't want to jeopardize anything he has going on, and Jon looks like he's having the time of his life. He's not very fond of interfering with other people's enjoyment, let alone if his Archivist is finally having a blast by giving in to his inhumanity.
“I… I won't forget those two words for as long as I live.” Anderson resumes his story and Jon tightens his mandible muscles. “There was my name. Thomas Anderson. I felt confused at first, skeptical, I read that's the first step of grievance. Not wanting to acknowledge the fact. Why would there be my name in an auction bid? There was no description, anything. Maybe it was a joke, even if, and I'm sure you will convene with me, it was a bad taste one. I try to keep this part of my life personal and only Lydia is privy to this. I couldn't believe it could be any of my friends. Was it my girlfriend? Finally lashing out and trying to teach me a lesson? It seemed way too improbable because, as much as I love her, she can't use a computer even if her life depended on it. So, it couldn't be her, the sole thought of her reaching out to Vintiqa just out of pettiness seemed preposterous. And those guys actually accepting? Even more absurd. Long story short, I tried to contact them about that bidding lot. I phoned to all of their contacts but every time I mentioned lot 37 they all started laughing maniacally until I put the call down. The time of the auction was creeping closer and I grew restless and restless. I needed lot 37, mainly because I did not want anyone else to have it, but there was also a deep sense of longing for it. I didn't care about any of the other items anymore, I craved lot 37. I used the excuse of an impromptu business trip to get away from the house so that Lydia could not interrupt my bidding. Lot 37 was going to be mine.”
At that point, Anderson starts furiously scratching his right hand, until he is drawing blood over old scars.
“I– uh, where was I?” Anderson's eyes go unfocused for a second, probably due to the influence of the Beholding getting weaker. Elias is ready to intervene but Jon is faster.
“The bidding. Tell me how it went.”
A shiver shakes Anderson's whole frame and his eyes widen again. He keeps speaking. Not that he has any other chance, Elias bitterly thinks.
“Ah, yes. So, I booked a hotel in the opposite part of the city and logged in to the auction site at the scheduled time. I still remember how restless I felt when the first bids were off being auctioned. I couldn't care less, I only wanted to place my bid, win lot 37, and be over with this madness. I don't know, don't remember how I came to the conclusion that by winning the lot I could… I could place my life together, finally. I could get that promotion I so longly asked my manager for. I could finally ask Lydia to be my wife. You know, we've been… together ever since high school and I… I mean, she would've wanted to marry quite some time ago, but I could never… never manage the courage to ask her. I could never commit, I guess.”
Anderson begins crying, shaking visibly and falls to the ground. Jon surges forward to catch him, holding him by his arm. The man tries to get away but Jon tightens his grip. The man whimpers, both from the physical pain and the Beholding compelling him. Elias wonders if he should intervene, but seeing Jon so free, so in his element, so intense in his food hunting is too awe-inspiring to stop. Jon shakes Anderson by his arm, and forces him to stand up.
“Keep talking. You haven't finished your statement.”
Anderson's eyes are red from crying and he swallows hard.
“P-pleass, I'll give you… anything. Money, is it money you want? But I support your institute activities every year, what more could you want? I can d-double my donations, i-if you let me go, a-and… Mr Bouchard, I… please-”
Elias finally steps forward, gently putting a hand on Jon's shoulder to get his attention. When Jon turns to look at him, he gasps in awe, delighted to see the same need and desperation to please his master as he does. Truly a masterful pupil.
“Jon, you might want to tone it down a little. Can't you see that our guest is in distress?”
Anderson almost falls to the ground again, and if Jon wasn't keeping him in place he would have thrown himself at Elias' feet.
“I swear to God, Elias, if this is one of your little games and you make me stop, I will-”
Elias sighs. He understands that at the beginning restraint is difficult to attain. Jon will grow and he will grow to like his meals consumed more refinedly. He would like to be there for the whole process, but for now, this can suffice. Jon will see and agree with his views and beliefs soon enough.
“That's probably a discussion for another time. I merely wanted to offer you a word of advice. You don't want to be too forceful, because it might break them sometimes. And not getting the full meal might sometimes feel unpleasant. As if you're… Mh.” Elias pauses for a moment, losing himself in thought.
“I'm sorry, I can't find a fitting analogy with food this time. You know Jon, to me it's always been more similar to having intercourse, actually. So if you don't get to witness their fears in toto, then it's like when you don't orgasm at the end of a very intense session.”
Jon scoffs and rolls his eyes. Elias brings his hand to Jon's cheek again. He doesn't lean on it this time, but doesn't get away either. Elias takes it as a victory nonetheless. Without breaking contact, he circles around Jon, gently nudging his face toward the man in front of them, who is following Elias’ frame with widened eyes.
“Wh-what is this? What kind of freaky perversion are you putting into play? Mr Bouchard, I–” The small amount of hope that was gleaming in Anderson's gaze is blown away by fear hastily replacing it, terror back to invade his body.
“Statement resumes.” Elias simply says and Anderson can do nothing but start again.
“I… waited and waited. For lot number 37, I walked around the room, my eyes never leaving the computer screen. Then, after the drawn hammer came down for the third time with lot 36, I immediately ran to the chair, ready for the next bidding. Then lot 37 came and I couldn't see anything. With everything else, they showed the item, from a camera in what I assumed to be their storage room, but with lot 37 the video feed suddenly went dark. I didn't care, though. I placed my bid, basically the highest number I've ever bid, and pressed the button to send it. I didn't care how I would have afforded paying, how much debt I had to take to be able to. But, well, freedom has its price? And if I could manage to secure a work position I desired and the woman I loved, well, those things are invaluable. But… the button didn't work. No matter how many times I pressed it. My bidding wouldn't be sent. I looked at the numbers displaying rapidly on my screen, and at the other proposals from the attendees. I started screaming, I started hitting the computer, I slammed my fist to the table so many times and so hard that I drew blood. I think that the guests staying at the rooms closer to mine called the security at one point. There wasn't anything I could do. I watched helplessly as lot number 37 was won by someone in the audience. I am… I don't know who bought it. I… there aren't names shown in the interface. I… it was bidder number 3113, probably, and… I- that's all I know about him. Or she. I don't know anything.” Anderson breaks free from Jon's grip and puts his hand through his hair, trying to steady his breath. The fear starting to ooze from the man must be getting to Elias too, because he allows himself to lean over Jon as he moves his hand up to softly massage his scalp.
“That's always my favorite part,” Elias murmurs to Jon's ear and lingers there for a moment too long. Jon leans completely over him, humming in agreement, sated. If Elias hadn't been there, he would've fallen to the ground too.
“I- don't remember a lot of what happened afterward. They probably called the police because I was going insane. I think I kept screaming and ended up spending the night at the police station. I couldn't stop myself. They told me to do stuff and I… wouldn't do it. So they hit me. I luckily got out the next day, asked a friend to come pick me up. I managed to keep Lydia in the dark about the whole matter, but it didn't matter. My manager asks me to achieve simple tasks and I just lay there, in front of the computer doing nothing. Lydia says she wants to go on a vacation and asks me to buy the tickets and I… don't do it. And it's not just that. Sometimes, it's like… I am no longer in control of my own body. I am walking, unable to stop, towards a destination I don't know. Without regard for traffic lights, or other people. One time, I found myself on the edge of an attic balcony. And I was ready to jump. In the end, I didn't do it, but I haven't been able to sleep since then. I can't put into words how it feels to be in your own body but not in control of it, it's as if you watch yourself from the outside but at the same time, you are paralyzed there. It's… I'm not sure if I am even myself anymore.”
Anderson finishes, his face swollen with tears.
“How are you feeling, Jon? Was it to your liking?”
Elias asks softly but Jon doesn't answer. There's really no need to, given how he still almost completely leans on the other, his breathing still labored from the adrenaline. There's also the phantom of shame, looming over him, of having surrendered to temptation.
“Good,” He murmurs, to no one in particular, just not to give Elias the satisfaction of having the upper hand.
“Glad to hear that.” Elias replies and the feeling of both their thirsts, sated and content gets to his head. It must be like this because he places his lips on the too-inviting skin of Jon's neck, inhaling his shampoo's smell. That's way too risky, but Jon's soft sighs as he slowly comes off from his trance are putting a huge toll on his self-control.
“Goddammit, I-I am going to tell everyone! I will r-ruin you, Bouchard, everyone will k-know what inhuman depravities you engage with y-your… y-your…”
Anderson interrupts their moment, perhaps luckily, in tears and his words come out between hiccups and cries. Elias walks away from Jon, unwillingly, and looms over the other man.
“No, I don't think you will tell anyone anything. Unless you want to experience the fear of being stripped of your own will again and again. Not that it will change anything since you don't belong to yourself anymore.”
The man tries to reply, to stand up but he falls on the ground again, as if he's a puppet whose strings have been cut.
“I'll see you, Mr Anderson. It would be a pleasure to see you at the next Institute party.”
“It… it was the Web. Why? You don’t like the Web.”
“I…” Elias stops and sighs, marveling at how his Archivist’s skills are growing sharper with each statement he feeds to himself and their God alike. “I admit I am not fond of it. But I am not scared of the Web.”
“Yeah,” Jon chuckles. It’s a dark laugh, something he has never heard escape the man’s lips. “If you’re scared, they win. It’s like a very messed-up test of courage.”
Elias hums in agreement and watches the man run for his life as soon as soon as he regains control of his body. The two men wonder for how long and Jon swallows a lump at the perspective of feeding from him again.
“Try to keep a balanced diet, Jon.” Elias jokes. Jon looks at him, perplexed. How can he joke in a moment like that? From how Jon grimaces, the older man knows that his precious Archivist struggles to admit sharing his own twisted sense of humor. Another time, perhaps. There is still much that Jon needs to understand and accept about him.
“We should get you home, it’s getting late.” Elias looks at his pocket watch, a niche accessory he has never found the will to let go of, despite also enjoying wearing a wristwatch as a fashion statement. He takes two steps forward, toward the direction of his car. Jon isn’t following him, so he stops soon. “I’ll give you a ride, come on.”
The Archivist's eyes are unfocused, he looks at Elias but it's like he's gazing way beyond him. Is he still reveling in that man's fear? Jon should count himself lucky that he is not a jealous man.
“What's wrong?” Elias walks back to him, stopping just right before entering Jon's personal space. He doesn't want to scare him. Well, to be fair, he does, just a little. He can't help it, it's Jon who makes such a beautiful terrified expression and utters terrific whimpers when he's distressed. It makes one want to tease him, not to actually hurt him. He knows that Jon isn't used to such plays, even outside the bedroom, but they have so much in common that he could eventually grasp the appeal behind his innocent wind-ups.
“Still hungry, Jon?” There's darkness behind his smile as he holds Jon's magnetic gaze. The other scowls at the implications. But it's just for a moment.
“Right now, I feel… sated. But,”
Elias raises his brow at such a rare display of honesty on Jon's part. His gaze regains focus for a moment and he smiles back at Elias. The same dark smile of someone who has done a nasty deed, fully knowing they're going to get away with it. “I have no idea how much it will last.” Those last words go unheard by Elias who just hums in agreement to give a guise of restraint. There's nothing more in the world he wants at this moment than to pin Jon to the wall and have his way with him. He has to physically step away from the taller man to resist his impulses. He can't jeopardize his master plan like that, and absolutely cannot let Jon know. About the plan first and foremost, it's too soon, he can't risk committing the same mistakes as Leitner. And also about his feelings. He has a hunch, well, more like a concrete fear that they could lead Jon away from him. Which is deletery for the plan.
Right, the plan.
He is man enough to admit that he would also be dejected at an up and close personal level if such an unfortunate matter were to occur.
“Let’s find someone else.” There goes Jon, grabbing Elias’ sleeve, just like he did with Anderson, pinning him in place with his eyes. “Elias, I need– I need to feed.”
The older man isn’t sure anymore how much of this is done with purpose and how much is just Jon’s natural ability to find his weak spot. Who is coincidentally Jon himself, so he has a significant advantage from the start.
“Jon, I told you. Everything has to be consumed in moderation. I would really hate for you to lose control of your own actions. Next time you feel hungry, we’ll go. For now, let’s leave. We’ve done enough for one night.”
Jon takes a deep breath.
“Why are you doing this? Why are you this concerned for my well-being?” Jon's question comes unexpectedly. Elias has to physically distance himself, as soon as the static numbs his ears. It was already delightful feeling when it happened while Jon was asking about Gertrude, but now, combined with his own growing arousal, it even goes into blissful territory.
“The answer is simple.” Elias suppresses a moan from Jon's strong glare making him shudder from his throat to his tongue. “I want to bed you, Jon. As in, fuck you. Repeatedly, if possible.”
This isn't entirely wrong. The real reason he's doing everything is for the ritual to come through, but the unusual care and pampering he reserves only for Jon also has roots in purely physiological and sentimental reasons. He expects Jon to widen his eyes, probably trying to distance himself from him due to his ever-constant fear of letting others under his shell. However, he is the one who parts his mouth in surprise when he hears Jon laugh meekly.
“Yeah, right,” He bites his lower lip. “That was a lame use of my powers. I could feel your boner before.”
Elias chuckles, a hint of coyness in his voice. It is a first for both of them, with Jon usually being the more bashful one.
“Show me.” Jon says, and Elias doesn't waste any time.
“So, are we doing it?” Jon's hands tug aimlessly at Elias' shirt, clearly not sure of where he wants to take this. Elias likes this behavior, he's the straightforward, slightly perverted one, so a bashful but equally deranged under-the-surface partner seems only fitting. Oh, if only Barnabas understood him like Jon did.
“No way,” Elias begins, angling Jon's head so that it's now resting against his forehead. “I still stand by my earlier claim of wanting to fuck you, but you're not a hook-up person and I am not a brute. Do you think I'm a brute?”
Jon is ready to talk back to him, and Elias knows what he wants to say, even without the Beholding's aid. Jon stops before saying anything and Elias sighs.
“I have already told you that Jürgen was an overreaction. If I was acting on the same impulse right now, you wouldn't be able to walk any time soon.”
Elias smirks when Jon shudders against him. His lips are hovering over Jon's, he's adamant about not giving in. Everything seems to turn into a challenge for them for some reason, and this time he won't yield.
“As I am not a brute,” Elias punctuates, his words but a hushed whisper against Jon's open mouth. “I’d rather have you after properly setting the mood. A good fuck needs an even better prelude, like a pleasurable dinner out at a distinguished restaurant.”
“I thought Mr Anderson was our refined dinner.” Jon follows his claim with a small chuckle, its vibrations tickling against Elias' skin.
It's at times like these that he rethinks everything he was so sure of. He wouldn't mind yielding and kissing Jon deeply and longly, until his lips are wet and red.
“I meant a real dinner, with proper food. As much as it would be convenient if this wasn't the case, you still need to feed your physical body.”
Maybe, in the future. When his ritual is complete and the Eye will finally open. Maybe then, they can indulge in eating grand banquets consisting of the fears of mere mortals, while they rule the new world brought about together. He'd still like to take Jon out for dinner before that, though. It's probably okay to begin by kissing those parted lips, then.
Before he can act on it, Jon spreads his legs and wraps them around Elias' waist, forcing him to find some kind of leverage on the older man's shoulders. The latter obliges, leaning into him and pushing him more to the wall.
“Tell me how you'd fuck me.” Jon muses, eyes going once again dazed, as if the high of using his powers was enough to send him into blissful oblivion.
“I'd love to have you on my bed, obviously.” Elias begins and Jon looks at him, unimpressed. Even after being alive for so long, he has to admit he hasn't thought about using the Beholding's powers to dirty talk, but such is the inquisitive and wondrous mind of his Archivist.
“Cheesy,” Jon spats and Elias wants to push two fingers in his mouth to make him shut up. How impatient, Jon, let me finish.
“But any flat surface would do the trick, really. You'd feel perfect all tightened around me practically anywhere.”
Elias doesn't expect what happens next. His hands moved down under Jon's thighs to help him sustain his weight, when Jon cups his face. He's wearing the same frowned glare mixed with a pout. Elias widens his eyes when Jon suddenly crashes their lips together. Everything about the kiss is perfect. Not that he imagined it in any other way. His Archivist's kisses are demanding and desperate, just like his questions and his needs. Flawless, just like him. Elias isn't a fan of messy make-outs, he is way past the age for that kind of teenage foolery, but he likes Jon's proactivity so he happily bites Jon's tongue when he nibbles his lower lip.
“It was even better than any of my wildest fantasies.” Elias huffs as they reluctantly part. Jon gasps and his cheeks flush, he stammers something but then remembers that he's the new pupil of an otherworldly horror that granted him great powers.
“Since when?” He begins, and tries to look anywhere but at Elias but fails, with the latter’s bemusement. He gives a small hum of appreciation as their eyes lock once again. It seems to give Jon the push he needed. “Since when you've had those fantasies?” Elias lets out a shameless moan at Jon's powers being used on him and breathes in. He has to be smart about this. He has wanted Jon as his Archivist the moment he laid eyes on him, but the images of him being all pliant and ready to take his dick started around the time he made him Head Archivist. He's not positive he can differentiate efficiently between those two feelings, his dick surely seems not to get the difference. He can get away with such an answer without coming off as too pathetic or desperate in front of Jon.
“Since the day I showed you your desk, Jon. You'd look so great sprawled all over it.”
“R-Really?”
“You know not even I am immune to the Archivist's powers. It's the truth.”
“I–” Jon shifts left as if he wants to pass a hand through his hair, but he notices they are entangled in Elias' smooth hair and he seems to prefer them there. Thank God , Elias thinks.
“I'm sorry. I… didn't notice. I was… I mean, we have more urgent stuff to attend to.”
“We do indeed.” Elias smiles and leans in for a quick peck on Jon's lips. Jon is ready to push his tongue inside Elias' mouth once more, and frowns upon his boss parting so soon.
“Georgie always told me that I just don't… get these feelings people have for me. I… I mean, it's fine, it's perfectly normal and– but I… I'm sorry if I-”
“Jon.” Elias isn't in the mood to hear his beautiful creation ruminating in his intrusive thoughts so he decides to stop him.
“If I had known that our first kiss would have been like this, I would have happily waited as much time as needed. It was,”
Elias has to stop and take a breath, the compelling from his, no, their god, making him dizzy with both pleasure and fear. “You are outstandingly exceptional. I'm very impressed with you, with how you're growing into my…”
Elias stops again, and kisses Jon, like he's unable to resist any longer. This time he kisses him deeply, sucking eagerly on Jon's tongue. When they part, Jon doesn't want to let him go, and this time Elias indulges him, kissing him again, his hips grinding into Jon's groin, his hardness pushing against the other’s.
“My perfect Archivist.”
Jon exhales loudly, grinding back into Elias' crotch, resting their foreheads together while admiring his boss' wet and parted lips.
“Do I need to go on?” Elias whispers against Jon's mouth, happily reveling in the effect his words had on Jon's lower parts.
“Please do.”
“I'm glad you're being true to your desires for once.”
It's easy for Elias to push into Jon's mind the countless times he's touched himself thinking about him, watching him. He grinds into Jon and sets a slow rhythm while the scenes play out in both their minds. It's a novel feeling, being watched for once. Usually, his victims aren't very happy with him forcing them to experience pain and terror. This time, however, Jon is watching eagerly, frantically taking every detail in.
“Goddamnit, Elias, that's,” Jon throws his head back, hitting the wall and Elias follows with a hard thrust into his crotch. “That's filthy!”
“What? I've imagined taking you on Tim's desk so, so many times. It's one of my favorites, actually. You'd better get used to it.”
Jon shuts him up with a kiss.
“Tim would get so mad. You're crazy.” He huffs and shakes his head.
“Just a few months ago he would've asked to join, though.” He grinds into Jon again. “Pity. Alas, we should try it. Just once.”
“No.” Jon is quick to reply. “No. Yes. Bloody Hell, we both know that it's not going to be just once.”
Elias places a kiss on Jon's neck and laughs, while Jon tilts his head to give him more access.
“Wh-what about your office?”
Elias is still busy with Jon's neck but stops.
“What about my office?”
“God, don't make me say it, you know it!”
Jon turns his head to the side, frowning. Elias thinks he's ten times more gorgeous when he's sulking. However, he doesn't reply, deciding instead to gently rock his hips into Jon's waist, enjoying the little repressed sighs coming from his mouth and his contained jerks against him.
“Jon, of course, I've thought about taking you in my office, isn't it obvious?”
Jon kisses him again, and Elias takes the opportunity to unbutton his shirt, his palms gently touching the now-exposed skin. Jon whimpers when the cold hit his chest and his belly. Elias warms him by letting his hands travel all over his chest, pulling briefly at his not rigid nipple.
“How would you-”
Jon doesn't even need to finish his question.
“Against the door, on my lap while I'm sitting in my chair, over my desk. Any preference?”
Jon moans loudly as he watches himself being fucked against Elias' office door, then a second again he's helplessly gripping the edges of his desk and a second later he's bouncing over his boss' lap, eyes closed and blissed out expression.
“Y-Your chair,” Jon sighs out. “It looks good done in that position.” He points out.
“God, Jon,” Elias' voice goes down an octave, a slight crack in his voice he doesn't really want to be noticed. Jon of course does, and kisses him. “I'm close, Jon, ah-”
Elias lets his head rest over Jon's shoulder as he gives one final thrust against him. For a bit, his head blanks out, lost in the aftermath of going over the edge, and there's just the slight tickle of Jon's locks against his nose.
“Who's there?” A voice resonates from the other side of the small alley they rushed to not so long ago. “Bloody Hell, if it's once again one of those teenage couples who can't keep their hands off of themselves, I swear I'm-”
Elias forces himself to move and tilts his head at Jon.
“I have a hunch it's the Desolation this time.” Jon closes the distance between them and whispers against Elias' lips.
“So greedy, Jon, already going for seconds. I believe I told you not to overdo it?” Elias smiles and goes for a quick peck on Jon's lips. He wants to kiss him properly, but he hears the footsteps getting closer and groans.
“You did, but they say men are more compliant after release. I guess this holds true for you too, Elias?”
The older man huffs in response and lets Jon go, as the man slowly approaches them.
“Fine, you win. Enjoy the meal, Jon.”