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Heyyyyyyy. Who wants almost 2k words of Elias sneakily mentally tormenting Jon during a meeting? Sequel to Morning Indulgence, this time Elias is making Jon squirm in front of a whole entire audience <3. Will eventually be cleaned up and posted to ao3.

Warnings for:

Words for Jon are: cunt, cock, dick, hole, nipples, chest. Fic under the cut:

Barely a month into his new position, and Jon is already proving to be far more delightful than Elias could have possibly predicted.

It’s too early to tell, of course. Too early to see his patron staring back from dark brown eyes, to feel anything more than the very mundane spark of attraction and interest when Jon catches his gaze, but Elias is hopeful. He’s proven to have a voracious appetite for knowledge, and Beholding’s gaze has caught on him. So much potential… Elias couldn’t have imagined anyone more suited for the task.

And besides, his very ordinary, very human nature has it’s own benefits.

It’s his first ever interdepartmental meeting since his promotion. In fact, it’s the first one he’s ever attended at all, and he’s already charmingly anxious over it. It’s not immediately apparent, not to more ordinary observers. Jon’s studiously looking over the notes he had prepared, expression dour and serious. But his thoughts are a wild tangle of anxiety and insecurity and the sinking, inescapable sensation that they all know. His eyes flick up every time the door opens, tracking the movement in or out of the room. There’s something reminiscent of a prey animal in his posture, the tension in his hands, the set of his spine. As if he expects to be pounced upon and devoured at any moment.

(A tempting thought, although Elias is certain it would be a very enjoyable experience for them both.)

The last few stragglers file into the room and take their seats around the conference table, all while the tension coiling in Jon’s chest winds higher and higher. Elias takes another moment to luxuriate in it before getting the meeting started properly.

“Before we begin,” he says, “I’d like us all to welcome our newest head Archivist.”

Jon’s head jerks up, unwilling to hide his irritation and unable to hide his fear. The other occupants offer strained congratulations and halfhearted acknowledgments. Jon’s spine goes ram-rod straight as his gaze darts from person to person, clearly trying to take their measure. If they respect him. If they believe that he’s qualified; that he can do the job.

(As if any of them have any idea just how perfect Jon is; can see the beautiful creature he’ll become; taste the sharp, wonderful fear that coats Elias’ tongue.)

(One day, Jon will learn to stop caring about any of it, about anything but knowing and fearing and the heavy weight of Elias’ hands on him, shaping him into something new and awful and glorious, the key to eternity.)

The meeting itself is not particularly interesting. While there is much to be said for the quiet, meditative peace of scheduling and budgeting, listening to a handful of bored, unhappy managers explain information he already knows is hardly his idea of a pleasant afternoon. If he’s going to be stuck here, he may as well enjoy himself.

It’s only natural that he finds himself gravitating to Jon’s mind first. So endlessly fascinating and entertaining, he almost can’t help himself. Still churning, of course, anxious insecurity mostly overtaken by boredom and irritation. His new Archivist just itching to get back to his archives, with all it’s secrets and stories and second-hand terror. What an excellent fit he truly is.

For a time, Elias simply contents himself with tracing the patterns of Jon’s mind, it’s rapid, swirling patterns and sharp spikes of fear, those same old inadequacies and insecurities. Occasionally, Elias tears himself away long enough to chime in and make sure the meeting stays on track, but there’s little enough to tempt him away from the focus of his gaze.

And then Jon’s mind slips over to the topic of sex, as it so often does, and Elias sits up just a bit straighter in his chair.

It’s very little, really, just a vague, blurred image of a cock sliding into a wet hole. But it’s more interesting by far than Dave-from-HR’s uninterested recounting of last month’s expenditures. And besides, it has him wondering, just how far could he push Jon, in front of all these watching eyes?

He lets Jon consider the image for a little longer before making his own modifications. Tweaking it into something they can both enjoy.

A cock sliding into Jon’s wet hole, the thick head slick with pre-cum, stretching him open. Rubbing against his inner walls as it pushes deep inside. A pair of heavy balls coming to rest against his ass.

He watches from the corner of his eye as Jon squirms. Glances nervously at the department heads sitting across from him, as if they might know what he’s thinking about. (And oh, that’s an idea, isn’t it?)

Jon tries to push the image aside, tries to focus on what the other’s are saying, but his mind is already caught on the idea, slick beginning to leak from his empty hole. Still, Elias knows he can push this further.

Strong hands pinning Jon down, pressing him into a hard wooden surface as he’s impaled on a long, thick cock. “No,” he says. “Please…” words trailing off into a wanton moan.

And perhaps… “Don’t worry. I’ll make it good for you...”

And oh, Jon is positively dripping now. His cock hard and aching to be touched. His shame written into the tense line of his shoulders and the furrow of his brow, even as he catches helplessly on the scene. Fascinated by the violation, the image of himself writhing and gasping beneath his assailant, the pleasure-pain as a cock forces its way inside of him.

Still, he’s doing a very admirable job of keeping himself together. Nobody without Elias’… unique perspective would ever know that his dour expression was over something a little less wholesome than the recent restructurings in accounting (or, well, Shannon was wondering if he might be constipated). Really, Elias applauds his restraint.

He supposes that Jon deserves a little treat for his good behavior. Gives Jon something new, something Elias himself has considered often, hand wrapped around his cock.

Jon lying supine on the conference table, legs spread wide to show off his cunt. Already soaking wet, slick glistening on his throbbing dick. Stripped entirely of his clothes and shuddering with fear and arousal. Elias moving to kneel between his thighs, his erect cock dripping with pre-cum. Cupping his face, murmuring just loud enough for all the watching attendees to hear, “you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?”

Pressure. Elias’ cock pushing deep inside his clenching, empty hole. Jon unable to hold back a moan of mingling pain and pleasure as he takes Elias all the way to the hilt. Every inch of him filled with Elias. A voice whispering in his ear: “and when you’re round and full of my child, they’ll all know just where it came from.”

Jon shifts again in his seat. Elias doesn’t even need to look to know he’s crossing his legs. Anything to distract him from his needy cock, from just how affected Elias’ little fantasy had made him. And oh, he’s already pondering the merits of slipping off into the bathroom for a quick wank. How delightful.

The head librarian is speaking now, discussing finalized plans for the upcoming renovations. A droning background noise to Jon’s quiet desperation. How very badly he needs to touch himself. Craves even the barest bit of pressure on his cock. He won’t. Can’t. Not with all these people around to see what a pathetic, needy thing he is.

Elias suppresses a shudder of excitement, his own cock hard and leaking in his pants. From his perch in Jon’s mind, he senses the barest bit of movement, the shadow of pleasure, of satisfaction, as Jon tries to grind into the seam of his trousers. What a greedy thing you are, he thinks to himself, the sentiment oozing honeyed affection. And the temptation, ever-present. What if he gave Jon just a little bit more? They’ve had very little opportunity to explore Jon’s burgeoning interest in exhibitionism. Perhaps…

Jon on display for the entire institute. All those hungry, searching gazes drinking him in. The swell of his chest, his perky nipples, his drenched, greedy cunt, even the tight little pucker of his arse. Legs spread wide to accommodate Elias. His hole welcoming his shaft even as Jon cries out, begs him not to do this.

The real Jon’s hand twitches where it rests on his knee. Hidden under the table. Where surely nobody was really looking. Where surely nobody would see, if it crept those few short inches to the place where he needed to be touched…

Elias beginning to roughly fuck him. Long, deep thrusts that have him impaled on his cock. Balls slapping against Jon’s cheeks. Effortlessly keeping Jon pinned in place, even as he struggles and thrashes. Pleas for Elias to stop becoming moans of shameful pleasure. The whole institute watching as Jon is used, assaulted. Jon bare and utterly helpless, trying to pretend he isn’t enjoying this even as a hundred other people can see what a pathetic, desperate slut he is. Their heavy eyes roaming over every inch of exposed skin, a sensation almost as violating and pleasurable as the prick invading his cunt.

Jon’s hand moves. Slowly, slowly. Shifts so subtly until it’s right between Jon’s thighs. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. And still, he moves it just a little more. Begins to rub at himself, stifling an adorable little gasp as he finally, finally, gets that taste of what he needs.Elias is practically salivating, can feel the precum dribbling down his cock. The shame is pouring off of Jon in waves now, so thick and heavy he can taste it. And it would feel so satisfying, sinking deep into that tight, wet cunt. Hearing Jon’s soft little whimper as he penetrates his Archivist in front of all these onlookers…

(One day, he thinks to himself, one day he will have Jon, will make love to him in front of seven billion pairs of terrified, watching eyes. He will finally feel Jon’s inner walls gripping his length, the heavy weight of their master’s gaze making every touch electric and seen and known.)

With a soft, in drawn breath, Elias reels himself back. There will be time for that later. For now, it’s finally (almost) his Archivist’s turn to speak. Elias glances at Jon, mouth quirked up in the barest smirk. It takes Jon a second too long to notice. He goes stock-still, horror and anxiety flooding every part of him (but not enough to drown out the arousal. To quiet the aching need to be touched and pleasured and-). His skin is too dark to see the flush of blood rushing to his cheeks, but those wide, frightened eyes tell their own story.

(It’s charming, really. Elias probably never would’ve been able to guess exactly where his hand had been if he hadn’t been using his specialized skill set. Elias wonders if any of the others suspect, decides to save that as a surprise for later.)

Elias smiles at him, small but genuine. “Thank you for the update, Hannah. And last but not least, the Archives. How have you been settling in, Jon?”

It takes a moment too long for Jon to process anything past the panic, another to remember any of what he had been planning to say. “I- ah… right. Yes.” He shuffled through his notes, mind racing to piece together his little pre-planned spiel even as arousal continued to burn low in his belly.

Elias allows himself to slip back into his own mind, quietly listening as Jon launches into his rant about the messy state of the Archives. It has been, he muses, a truly delightful meeting.

He’s very much looking forwards to the next one.