Jon has the biggest daddy kink in the world. And also he would never say daddy ever not even held at gunpoint. These things can coexist. In my beautiful mind.
I think Jonah is like. The only one who he’d call dad. I cannot explain why. But like. Yknow???
*cracks knuckles* Let’s see what I can do.
Jon had never considered what sex with someone consumed by the concept of isolation would be like. He supposed if he had to guess, he would have at the time said impersonal maybe? Only what felt like someone had shoved their arm into his cunt certainly felt personal.
“Are you still there Archivist?” Jon couldn’t really focus on the words Peter was saying. He talked a lot for someone who was supposed to be all about loneliness. But it was so hard to focus when he was stretched almost past the point he could handle. Why was he here again? He remembered agreeing, or did he? Jon shivered, despite the heat of Peter’s cock in him he felt cold but he pressed his face into the other man’s chest anyway.
Is that why he had agreed? He just wanted someone, anyone to touch him, to hold him? No, no not anyone, god he just wanted-.
“Something wrong Archivist?” Jon half wondered if Peter just liked the sound of his own voice. Whimpering as Peter gripped his hips and pulled him down harder. It wasn’t really a question he could answer, yes everything was wrong, everyone hated him, he was a monster, and Elias-. Jon couldn’t hold back a whimper, he had tried to go see him when he had woken up. Had shown up at the prison, only to be told that he specifically was not allowed, and it had hurt, some part of Jon had cracked at that.
He drifted as he was thrust into, in this cold space he could almost pretend it was Elias and not Peter. Elias holding him close, telling him how good he’s being, how he’s proud of him. Jon squirming and whining, it was too much, please stop please no more dad-.
Peter’s breathing in his ear, much too steady and unaffected so far considering how much he was wrecking Jon, hitched and Jon realized he had said the last part out loud. The laughter that followed was cold and cruel as Peter moved one hand to his hair stroking it in some feigned attempt at true intimacy.
“So that’s what this is about,” Peter sounded almost bored despite the cruelty in his words. Jon buried his face back against Peter’s chest, trying to tell him to stop, but it was just so much. “Do you miss him, feel abandoned because he won’t let you see him?”
“Did he used to fuck you in his office Archivist? Let you call him dad as he had you over his desk? I bet he did, makes sense why you’re such a good little slut for me right now.” Jon sobbed openly now, torn between mental anguish, and physical pleasure as Peter’s hand slipped between his legs, teasing him as he thrust harder. Peter almost seemed excited by the idea, if Jon had the ability to think clearly he would probably see the loneliness in the thought, but as it was Jon could only moan.
“Need me to fill you up just like he does? Or I suppose did since he doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you now.” Jon’s entire body went taught as he came, crying out for his dad. Peter’s grip returned to his hips as he pulled him down, and Jon could almost feel it as he came inside him.
“I’ll have to tell him how good you’ve been for me Archivist, do you think your dad will be proud?” Jon could only sob as the aftershocks poured through him, and Jon wondered at what point he would just break.