For the smut prompts list… perhaps 7 or 2 (secluded area at party and big window respectively) for Jonelias? Idk I just think those two Would (exhibitionists (affectionate))
“You do realize this is a terrible idea, right?” Jon grumbled, nonetheless letting himself be shuffled into a corner. Terrible idea didn’t even begin to cut it. Yes, the donors of the institute were…well, not exactly wonderful people themselves, but this was still a ridiculously terrible idea. He should really say no. He should get up, straighten out his shirt collar to hide the bite marks, and stand politely in a corner for the rest of the night. He really should. He’s instead already trying to unbuckle his belt, which he’s rapidly regretting wearing.
“I’m sorry, do you ever stop complaining, Jon?” Elias sighs, like Jon being worried about being caught fucking his boss is immature. He should walk out on him for that alone, really. Considers it, too. Until Elias unbuttons his shirt, and has two twin scars that make a deep rooted part of him seethe with envy, and. Okay, fine, he’s not going to walk out. Whatever. He’ll be quiet. Elias makes a soft, approving noise when Jon immediately beelines to claw at his back, sink his teeth deep into his chest as he possibly could. His teeth were mostly human, but if he didn’t get something in his mouth within the next five minutes he’d burn up and die.
“Awful dramatic, you know that?” Elias hums, obviously amused. He scrapes his teeth along his pale skin, just to interrupt his mocking. He’s rewarded with blood rushing into his mouth, soothing and fueling the fire at the same time.
“Fuck you.” He groans around the sweet, coppery taste in his mouth. Him finding the taste of blood inviting probably wasn’t a good thing. He doesn’t care. He’s wet and he forgot to keep taking his belt off, dammit, but Elias looked good and he’s twitchy and needs to touch and feel and do something with his hands other than just smile and nod at some old rich guy. Whatever. He just needs to stop thinking about it.
“God, you’re impatient. At this rate you’re going to cum all over yourself before we even get your pants off.” He huffs, like he’s not the one who started it. Bastard. He ignores the fact everything he says just makes him feel hotter. Elias rolls his eyes and unclips jons belt, setting it neatly on a table nearby. “Will you stay still for a few seconds? I-” He doesn’t let him finish his sentence. He sinks his teeth into his flesh again, yielding so easily to him. God, it feels better than it should. He moans shamelessly into the cut, savoring the barely repressed panting. Elias is whiteknuckling a nearby table, expression carefully controlled.
It is *beyond* satisfying. His blood tastes fucking incredible. He’s starting to understand what the hunt is going on about.
“Jon.” He hisses, “You’re going to get blood everywhere.”
He pulls back, licking the blood off his lips. He doesn’t miss the way Elias watches every moment. “You’re the one who couldn’t wait until we got home.”
“Oh, you want to talk about impatientence?” Elias shoves a hand down his pants without warning, no fanfare. He regains his composure in a moment, without his teeth digging into his flesh. Elias puts his other hand over his mouth before the first embarrassing noise can slip out, and hes suddenly very aware how easy it’d be to stain his pants. “Now you want to worry about that? Like you wouldn’t enjoy that, anyway. You’d probably love everyone knowing what you do to me.”
He inhales very sharply. Elias eyes twinkle a little, sensing blood in the water. God, if he ruins his pants he’s going to kill him.
“You act like you’re the responsible one here, like I don’t have to keep you from flinging yourself at me every chance you get.” His fingers hit- something, something sensitive, too sensitive, painfully so- and he gasps, grinding against it, for more of that sweet pleasure pain that makes him feel blind. “If you didn’t have me to keep you in check, what would you get into? So clever, and you forget all of it the moment anyone looks at you right. Do you not hear yourself?”
Jon bites his hand. Blood pours into his mouth, thick and delicious and shutting Elias up for five minutes so he doesn’t cum all over himself.
People are going to see that. He suddenly feels very, very stupid.
Elias furrows his eyebrows at him. He wants to sink to the floor, away from the disappointment, away from the judgement.
“You really don’t think things through, do you?”
His neck feels hot. Shame prickles up his spine and sending fire all over him, awful and sweet and he wants to hide from the overwhelming scrunity. He wants-
Elias pulls his hand away from his mouth, holding it up to survey the damage. It’s nothing bad. But sweet, sweet blood is dripping down it all the same. His stomach squirms with arousal and embarrassment in equal measures. “You do realize you’re proving my point, right?”
“I’ll clean it up.” He grumbles, already knowing he’s going to either get lectured or bent over one of these tables. He’d really prefer it was the latter. If he was thinking clearly he’d apologize, see this as the mistake is. As it stands, the blood is sweet in his mouth and he’s still so, so wet, and Elias hasn’t even taken his hand out of his pants. His fingers suddenly slam back in at an unforgiving pace, and he whines. Tries to move his own hand up fast enough to cover it, but Elias grabs it. He blinks at him in confusion.
“What, you think I’m letting you get off scott free? After that little stunt? If you want everyone to know what we’re doing so badly, then let them find out.”
Jon shakes his head frantically, gasping out “No, no, wait, we can’t-”
“Oh please. Don’t pretend you care about that.” His fingers slip into him, so so deep he wants to scream, just barely managing to bite it back. “You really think I haven’t noticed? How you act everytime I touch you when we go out? You’re embarrassed, worried, yes- but you *love* it.” He punctuates it with a sharp thrust of his fingers. “You want me to show you off. You want me to want you so bad and need everyone else to know it. You want everyone to see that you’re special to me. You want everyone to know that you’re my favorite. And it makes you the biggest brat I’ve ever met.”
Jon whines, whines, whines, throws his head back against the wall and tries to fuck himself on his fingers as best he can without losing himself. Without shouting loud enough for someone to hear. Fuck, everything’s too hot, he cant think straight, slicks getting all over his thighs and he can still smell Elias’ blood, fogging up his mind beyond comprehension.
“God, you’re a wreck, you know that? It’d be annoying if it wasn’t so adorable. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
It takes a moment for the question to actually register, when he’s so focused on trying to get off as fast as possible. “ ’M sorry.” He gasps out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, dad, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I’m- I’m sorr- ah!” His fingers twist, so wonderful and painful and he wants to weep, wants to sink onto the floor with him inside of him, wants- he cant think, he just wants *more.*
“No, you weren’t, were you?” He says, faux pity lacing his voice. It shouldn’t make him drip all over himself, but it does. He whimpers, thighs trembling with need. “Poor thing. Smartest man I know, yet you lose it all the second I touch you. You’re insatiable.”
“That’s your fault.” He whines, without thinking about it. He freezes, eyes snapping up to him, entire body going tense.
His eyes crinkle a little. An almost fond smile on his face. “I suppose so. I do like to spoil you.” He leans in closer.
“I guess that means I’ll have to teach you better. It’s not your fault, after all. You just need a little more discipline.”
Jon swallows, cunt clenching hard around him.
“Well? What do you say, Jon?”
“Thank you, Dad.” His voice trembles with want, horribly embarrassingly wet. He’s going to cum before they even get past a few minutes. They’re going to get caught. They’re definitely going to get caught.
“Good boy.”
He doesn’t care.