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English
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Published:
2021-02-07
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Sore Loss

Summary:

After the showdown in the Lonely, Martin and Jon have taken Peter as their prisoner.

Notes:

For the prompt “Touch yourself until you come, or I will fucking cut you.”, with Martin and Jon as aggressors. Hope you like this, anon!

Words used for Jon's anatomy: cunt, cock.

Words used for Martin's anatomy: cunt, cock, slit, folds.

Work Text:

Chained to the floor, hands cuffed behind his back, Peter can only watch.

In the distance, the Archivist has Martin on the bed, naked and spread. He's thrusting into Martin, the harness of his strap-on shiny and leathery against his skin as he strokes Martin's face and hair with his scarred hands, kissing his brow and cheeks as he drives into Martin's welcoming cunt. Martin has wrapped his legs around the Archivist's narrow waist and his arms around the Archivist's neck and he's moaning, his voice sweet, catching the Archivist's lips whenever he can. They writhe together, unable to stop touching each other, perfectly united.

The sight makes Peter burn.

It's the point, of course. The Archivist isn't looking in his direction, but Peter can sense his smugness even from here, how sated the Archivist is in his knowledge that Martin belongs to him and not Peter. The thrust of the Archivist's hips quickens, drawing louder moans from Martin as he pounds into him, deeper and deeper, making Martin toss his head back and expose his throat. Peter's fingers clench against his palms as he sees the Archivist lean down to nip at Martin's throat, scratch it with his teeth. That seems to be enough for Martin; Martin shudders and clutches the Archivist even closer to him, thrusting up against him as he comes. The Archivist bites down fully and Martin cries out loud, and Peter can't take it anymore.

He twists against his chains, making them rattle. But they hold.

"Jon," Martin whispers, his voice soft, and the Archivist instantly pulls up, meeting Martin's eyes. Peter has no idea what they see as they stare into each other, but the Archivist seems to understand, nodding as he leans down to kiss Martin's forehead, and pulls out of him.

The shaft of his strap shines with Martin's slick as he pulls it out, and Peter yearns for a taste. But a cold rush spreads into his chest when the Archivist gets off of the bed, when he turns to Peter, when he looks at him with a sharp smile.

"What's the matter, Peter Lukas?" he asks. "I thought being left out was what you liked."

The Archivist approaches him with a slight, cocky swing in his walk, grasping his strap from the root and lifting it up. His cunt gleams between his legs, wet with arousal, and as much as Peter loathes him, his cock stirs in response, twitching as it starts to stand up. The Archivist walks in front of him, grasping Peter by his hair.

"You won't get him." Holding the strap up, beyond Peter's reach, the Archivist presses Peter's face into his crotch. "Not unless you earn it."

Peter thinks he can smell Martin from this distance, but if he doesn't hurry, the strap will dry up. So he closes his mouth over the Archivist's cunt, dragging his tongue over the Archivist's soft folds, licking his way up to his firm, swollen cock. The Archivist curls his fingers in Peter's hair, almost gently before gripping him tight, pressing his cunt tight against Peter's tongue and lips.

"With more conviction, please," he says, rocking his hips slightly. Peter grimaces against him, but he keeps licking the Archivist, flicking his tongue over the Archivist's cock before wrapping his lips around it, sucking it as the Archivist moans, thrusting against Peter. Peter tries to pull back just slightly so he can glimpse past the Archivist, see what's happening on the bed, what Martin is doing.

He manages to get a look, gasping into the Archivist's cunt when he sees Martin sitting on the edge of the bed, his body soft and open, his legs spread apart, his hand between them. Martin is parting the folds of his cunt, running a fingertip between them, up and down along his slit until he reaches his cock, which he kneads in a gentle, circular motion. Peter's cock jumps at the sight, a moan rising from inside him and vibrating into the Archivist's cunt. The Archivist grunts, grinding harder against Peter's mouth.

"Earn it, Peter," The Archivist whispers, rocking his hips harder now, his fingers tightening in Peter's hair. "Earn the right to taste Martin."

Peter keeps looking over to Martin, as well as he can, sees him rubbing his cock, sees him look at him with eyes that are almost tender, and that gets to him more than anything else that is happening. Peter closes his eyes and focuses on the cunt before him, nips and sucks at the Archivist's delicate folds, mouths his cock, his own hips rocking in the air. He can feel his cock leak, pre-come dripping down onto the floor.

He groans when the Archivist grips his hair and pulls him off his cunt, but he goes silent when the Archivist guides the strap to his mouth, rubbing it against his lips.

"Well done so far, Peter." The Archivist presses forward, pushing the strap hard against Peter's mouth. "Take your reward."

Peter doesn't have to be told twice; he opens his mouth wide so he can take the strap in, moaning as it slides between his lips. He can still taste Martin on the rubber surface and it's heavenly, he sucks the shaft hard and licks everything within the range of his tongue, his cock twitching between his legs. It's unbearable, having Martin so close to him and not close at all. But it's all he's going to get, and he will take what he can.

In the distance, he can hear Martin moaning, and that gets him to suck the strap even harder, his head moving back and forth as he works on its length, catching what he can of Martin's remaining slick. The Archivist lets him do this for a while before he grabs Peter's hair tight again and starts to thrust into his mouth, picking up a fast, harsh pace almost immediately, soon slamming all the way into Peter's throat.

"Come choking on me," The Archivist hisses, ramming Peter's throat, pulling his hair taut against his scalp. The Archivist's foot presses between his legs, straight on his aching cock and Peter comes jerking, groaning around the strap.

The Archivist keeps going, thrusting erratically into Peter's mouth until he finally goes still as his own orgasm hits him, his legs shaking as his knees almost buckle. But the Archivist remains upright, pulling out of Peter's mouth, still holding onto his hair as he steps aside.

Peter grunts when the Archivist kneels down next to him and grasps his oversensitive cock. But when he looks over to the bed and sees Martin lying on it, his fingers inside his wet, bright pink cunt, his hips rocking as he stares over at Peter and Jon, Peter's spent cock gives a faint twitch.

"Come again, into my hand this time," The Archivist whispers to him, curling his fingers around Peter's cock. "Or-"

Peter stares over to Martin, who stares right back at him, his face soft with something that almost looks like affection.

He knows he will do what they demand of him.