●

Drabble request 14 “Just how he likes it.” Take the direction however you would like your ideas are always top tier.

(Also no rush I hope you feel better soon)

Well. Um. I can’t lie. It’s been a hot minute since I got this one. I hope you don’t mind too much. Honestly it fought me like HELL, took ages until I finally settled on a concept, and when I did… well…. it came out to 1.2k words. If nothing else, I hope it makes up for the delay?

Honestly might expand this one a bit and post it to ao3 later… I’m a little proud.

So, the prompt did end up being a bit of a throwaway line in the third paragraph… but it’s there! And that counts I think.

Ok, anyway… warnings:

Let me know if I missed anything! But anyway, without further ado: fic under the cut!

It really is quite charming, Jon’s little crush.

Well, “crush,” might be a bit of a misnomer, really. Fixation might be a better term, an obsession born from admiration, aesthetic attraction, and a not insignificant amount of “daddy issues,” to borrow a term he’s heard from the younger staff.

Not that Elias has any interest in enlightening him. Not when the alternative is so very entertaining. Every morning, Jon brings him coffee. Black, no sugar, just how he likes it. Pretends to be invested in the Elias’ administrative work so he has an excuse to loiter. Talks about his current research in an adorably transparent attempt to impress him. Listens with rapt attention whenever Elias is generous enough to offer a small morsel of his knowledge. (And it is a very good sign, that Jon could see beneath the mask well enough to recognize Elias’ expertise.)

Elias likes to indulge these visits, more often than he doesn’t. Jon is an intelligent man, with a mind that moves fast enough that he can still surprise Elias (a rare feat, really). And, well, even Elias can’t deny how flattering it is to earn the attentions of an attractive young thing like Jon.

Elias also, of course, likes to indulge himself. (Hardly any point in living forever if you didn’t bother to enjoy it, after all.) And sometimes when Jon’s gotten a little too comfortable, or hasn’t done nearly a good enough job of pretending to care about the intricacies of scheduling (which is a little insulting, really), or even for no particular reason at all, Elias likes to slip a few thoughts into Jon’s mind.

He prefers to start with Jon’s own fantasies, vague though they may be. They’re not hard to find. Jon thinks about sex a great deal, and it’s not difficult to jump from idle musings that do little to excite to the things Jon conjures when he brings himself off.

Currently, Jon is half-listening to Elias discuss the library renovations while he plans this evening’s grocery run. Gently, carefully, Elias makes his selection and pulls an image to the surface. Jon’s hand wrapped around a cock. He embellishes, just a little. How it might feel, the softness of the skin, the warmth and weight, the smooth glide up and down as Jon slowly strokes up and down it’s length.

Jon, only barely more interested in errand-running than the conversation itself, latches on quick. Imagines running his thumb over the head, then fondling the scrotum. A small ember of heat flickers to life in Jon’s belly, but nothing distracting. Not yet.

Elias shifts the subject to paperwork. All the red tape and bureaucratic nonsense involved in such a large scale project, but in all honesty he’s paying little more attention to the words coming out of his mouth than Jon is. Instead, he concentrates on filling in the scene in Jon’s mind:

Jon sitting on Elias’ lap, his well-pressed slacks pulled down just far enough to reveal his dripping cock. Then, a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, and Jon’s face tucked into Elias’ neck. The scent of his cologne, his aftershave.

“Good boy,” this Elias whispers to him. “You’re doing so very well.”

Jon flushes. Shifts a bit in his seat. Clenches his thighs together. He’s wet now, just a little. Mostly, he’s embarrassed. Ashamed over his silly little fantasy, not that this stops him from taking Elias’ suggestion and running with it.

Hitching his leg over Elias’ thigh. Grinding against it in desperate little motions as he chases his release. Letting out broken whimpers against Elias’ neck.

It’s an appealing idea, to be sure, and normally Elias would be content to let it run its course. Today, however, Elias is staring down the barrel of half a dozen meetings, several very important but extremely dull phone calls, enough paperwork to down a small to medium sized forest, and quite frankly he thinks he deserves a little morning pick-me-up. And Jon is, as prior experience has demonstrated, not above sticking his hand down his pants at work.

(It had been a delightful little show, watching Jon shudder and cum in a third floor bathroom. The gnawing anxiety and deep shame had followed him for the next two days.)

He lets Jon’s mind stutter over the previous scene for a few moments, caught on the idea of humping Elias’ leg as he jerks him off in unsure, halting strokes. Then…

Elias’ mouth twists in mock disappointment. “I’d hoped you might have been able to demonstrate a little more self-control…” he says, pressing his leg against Jon’s cunt to emphasize. He pushes Jon against the desk, effortlessly restraining him. “You’re really just a little slut, aren’t you?” Jon tries to close his legs, but Elias forces them open, yanks his trousers down. “Perhaps I should treat you like one. Might fix your attitude, taking cock all day… you’ve certainly been much more pleasant this morning.”

Honestly, Elias finds Jon’s acerbic, stubborn, and socially stunted disposition quite delightful. But Jon would hardly believe that, and in any case the words hit their mark. Jon gasps ever so slightly, eyes going wide, a wave of desire washing through him. Elias lets himself share the physical sensations, the phantom feeling of slick dripping from a clenching, empty hole…

(He draws himself back soon after, Jon’s arousal too much a reminder of the discomforts of his original body, still nipping at him all these years later…)

“Are you alright, Jon?” He asks, perfectly polite and utterly composed.

Jon stammers, caught between the weight of his need and Elias’ placid stare. “I- ah… yes. I’m alright. Just…” he trails off for a moment, trying to decide on his next words. Elias decides to push a little further, projects the image of Jon bent over the desk, pleading for Elias to stop as he pounds into him mercilessly. Jon shudders, stares down at the floor, blurts out the first excuse he can think of: “I need to, ah, check… something. About the case.” He’s squeezing his thighs tightly, trying very hard to stop himself from rubbing them together.

It’s an appallingly awful excuse, Elias really should call him on it. But he’d rather not risk humiliating Jon so much that he slinks down to research too embarrassed to touch himself. So he simply nods, says, “of course. My apologies Jon, I didn’t mean to keep you.”

Jon is all too eager to rush out the door, practically tripping over his words as he exits. He glances furtively down the hall, then makes his way to the loo and locks himself in the closest stall, shamefully unzipping his trousers.

Jon really is a delightful creature, rubbing hurriedly at his clit, teasing his hole with his fingers. He bites into the heel of his palm to stifle his little noises. Elias considers taking out his own cock, fucking into his fist and imagining that it’s Jon’s tight, wet cunt. But really, he’d prefer to savor this vision without distraction. Leave the memories to linger for later, when he needs to relieve his stress.

Or perhaps he’ll call Jon back up. He’s proven so very eager to please Elias… perhaps it’s time to make all his little fantasies come true.