The Largely Pornographic Adventures of Dead-Inside Sadist Martin and Plant-Flowering-In-A-Cave Masochist Jon
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I want you to cut me. I want to be able to look at myself and see at least one scar that was a choice. I want it to hurt, after, and I want to remember that it’s because I was loved.
featuring jon and martin fucking in a pool of blood and cum on the kitchen floor
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Jon actually wants Martin to do this to him. Martin’s still wrapping his head around it. How many times had he shamefully masturbated to fantasies of Jon being tortured? He’d always assured himself it was fine, it wasn’t real, he wasn’t a bad person for thinking thoughts. Even if those thoughts were about Jon in utter despair, and they made Martin ache to fuck someone (Jon) until they cried – they were just thoughts. Martin wasn’t doing anything with them. Jon would never find out.
Well. Jon’s found out, and it makes them both nut.(can be read independently)
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“Again, you really don’t have to be okay with it,” Martin says. “It’s a lot. You… I mean. You know? You killed him.” Martin smirks, then covers his mouth with his hand. “Sorry. I’m the worst.” He chortles uncontrollably.
“You know I don’t regret it. If you want to spit on his corpse with this, I’m happy to.”
Martin smirks deliriously. “It’s fucked, though, right?” he asks. “To want you to rape-roleplay him.”
Martin’s expression is infectious. Jon buries his face in Martin’s thigh – it’s indecent to smile about this. “Yes, incredibly so. You’re a pervert and I judge you for it.”
Martin laughs again. “God. Okay. So, tomorrow?”
“Sure. I’ll plan tonight.”--
Martin asks Jon to fuck his bad-touch-boss-Peter trauma out of him
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John and Martin survive the Panopticon and weather a little purgatory together.
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