Chapter Text
“Martin,” Jon says sharply, the moment he enters the room, and the urgency in his tone is enough to make Martin look quickly up from the new poetry book he had just opened.
“Yes?” He blinks at the sight of Jon apparently frozen in the centre of their couch, hands clenching and unclenching on his knees as his eyes fix on Martin with an intense stare. That isn’t exactly out of the ordinary, he’s still a full blown avatar of the Beholding, regardless of how much he stutters and yawns and does the dishes and bitches about the weather and snuggles into Martin’s side on cold nights. His gaze is still rimmed with that Watching, regardless of how human Martin knows him to be. “What’s wrong?” Martin asks, looking around.
“N-nothing,” Jon stutters out, heat rising to his ears, even though he doesn’t tear his gaze away. “Nothing. Just— C-come here, please.”
Martin does as he’s asked, setting his book down on the coffee table as he passes. Nikita Gill can wait just a moment, certainly. He takes the seat next to Jon easily, turning his head to return the stare of his partner as he does so, and almost immediately finds himself pushed backwards, the surprising strength in Jon’s hands gripping his shoulders and overbalancing him until Martin finds himself on his back, staring up at Jon, who is looming over him with an expression so bright with curiosity it looks almost hungry.
“Jon?” Martin squeaks out, his voice jumping up an octave at the sudden proximity.
“Can I kiss you?” Jon asks breathlessly. They’ve kissed before, of course, many times, but each time there is a chance of being caught off-guard, of the Lonely making the action uncomfortable, of simple touch aversion or drowsiness or chronic pain or any number of other reasons, so they both ask. Always, they ask.
“I- y-yeah,” Martin catches up quickly and nods. He might be confused as to the sudden enthusiasm, but he’s in a good headspace right now, and he’s certainly not going to turn down the opportunity to kiss his boyfriend, especially when he’s looking at him like that. “Absolutely.”
“Thank God,” Jon breathes, and swoops in.
The first touch of his lips to Martin’s is gentle, soft as almost always, but enthusiasm quickly takes him over and he kisses harder, opening his mouth to engulf Martin’s bottom lip between his, pressing into the sensation with a little groan, shifting his hands to cling against his hair, drawing a little keen from Martin as he firmly moves their lips together, coaxing Martin’s to open, licking once against the seam of his lips and then tonguing insistently at the snakebite piercings beneath his lower lip—
Martin remembers the piercings with a jolt and breaks away from the kiss, much to Jon’s dismay.
“Sorry, sorry, I just—“ He raises a hand to his mouth and touches the metal studs, feeling like an idiot for leaving them in. “Sorry,” He repeats, giving Jon a bashful look. “I realized I had them with me this morning and just- wanted to see if the holes hadn’t closed up, I guess? I- ob-obviously they haven’t, but um, I guess I just got distracted by um, Nikita. F-forgot to take them out again. I can just—“
“Martin,” Jon cuts him off with a confused look, raising a hand to wrap around his wrist, the one he was raising to his mouth. “Why are you apologizing?”
Martin blinks. “Because I forgot to take them out.”
Jon shakes his head, his expression close to dumbfounded. “Why would you need to do that? Martin they’re… I-I mean, th-they’re quite nice on you.”
Martin frowns. “I- well, yeah, I know, I mean, I got them for a reason, but last time you saw me with them, you kind of—“
Jon groans and drops his forehead onto Martin’s plush chest, a gesture he’s grown very fond of lately. When he speaks his words are somewhat muffled in the space. “Martin. That was back when I thought I had to enforce the Institute’s rule book, I can thoroughly assure you it had nothing to do with my personal opinion.”
“Right, when you were pretending you knew anything about being an archivist.” Martin teases, even though his face is warming considerably. Jon shifts his head on his chest so he can look up and give Martin a halfhearted glare. “Okay. Alright. M-makes sense. But that’s still- I mean, I could have taken them out before you started kissing me, not that I m—“
“Martin,” Jon lifts his head off of his chest and fixes him with that burning stare once again, before deliberately letting his eyes drag down his face, and leaning in to press another long kiss to Martin’s lips, letting his bottom lip catch just slightly on the studs in his mouth. “That would quite defeat the point.”
Martin’s face absolutely burns. “Oh. Right. Okay. So that’s… good?”
Jon nods, quickly. “I was always curious about how they’d feel.”
He dives in for another kiss, and Martin’s breath catches against the gentle pressure. He can almost sense the smugness radiating off of Jon, though, and so when he pulls back, he lets a teasing smile fill his face.
“Oh, I see, so this is all just research for you.” His tone is light and playful, and Jon dramatically rolls his eyes.
“Shut up, Martin.” He says, but a grin tugs at his lips regardless. “Maybe I just want to kiss my boyfriend.” He says the word with such pride, still, like it’s a treasure to hold close to his chest, like it shines with a light he is still trying to understand.
Martin loves the expression on him, he loves Jon, and he can’t resist for much longer. It’s all still so new, so wonderfully new, and he’s still rendered breathless any time he remembers just how fully he is loved these days. Loved enough to render the god of Loneliness to ash, loved enough to look back and still return. His voice is far too gentle when he answers. “Yeah?”
Jon softens from his teasing as well, shifts his hands to cup the sides of Martin’s face, brown eyes meeting brown, staring down with a fondness the Eye could never even hope to touch. “Yes.” He whispers, and presses a soft kiss to the bridge of his nose.
“Oh,” Martin answers, his voice pitched up in fondness, feeling his heart melt in his ribs. “Well, carry on, then.”
Jon exhales a chuckle that builds into a laugh, a sound that echoes warm and bright into Martin’s chest and fills him up with affection until he’s grinning.
“Thank you,” Jon manages with a grin, “I certainly will.” And when they kiss again, the feeling of his smile against Martin’s is sweeter than honey.