Work Text:
Jonah Magnus sits upon his terrible throne and he looks down upon all that he has conquered. Through all the eyes in all the world he can see his triumph: his ruined kingdom wherein death itself has knelt before him.
And through his own eyes (in this his final, perfect body) he looks down to see two men. Or perhaps they were men, once. Now, well... Now there is a desperate bundle of hurt, trembling now with rage, now with fear, now with deep desire. He watches as it shakes and stares, exerting all of its will to only look, and not to touch. Knowing that it is not yet permitted to do so.
And there is also, of course, his Archive.
His exquisite, lovely Archive. Radiant in its infinite understanding, splendid in the perfection of its soul. Yes, there it sits before him: complete after the agony of its transformation, scarred and mangled for its ascension. Broken to be whole.
He reaches down to run gentle fingers through its hair. On his other side, Martin makes a rather unpleasant sound, disturbing their calm. Jonah sighs, long-suffering. While withholding the Archive from Martin’s use is terribly diverting in its own right, it is true that there are so many other games that they could play. It’s not as if they lack the time, or the means, or the will.
“Martin,” Jonah starts, and he twitches minutely in response. Then he tears his eyes from the Archive with obvious reluctance and glares up at Jonah instead.
“What,” he responds, the word laced with long-simmering rage.
“I do believe your… stoic patience deserves a reward,” Jonah says, not without irony. Martin takes a long breath in through his nose and exhales just as slowly.
Jonah himself is a very patient man. And so he waits.
Martin blinks rapidly.
Jonah grips the hair in his hand tight, and the Archive moans.
“ Th… thank you ,” Martin whispers bitterly.
“Well done !” Jonah says, much in the way he used to when Martin brought the results of some kind of trivial task into his office, before. Martin closes his eyes and awaits this new gift. “Isn’t it so much nicer when we all get along?” Jonah says, retaining that managerial lilt. Martin makes another sound of clear distress at that, but doesn’t speak.
Jonah smiles, and unzips his trousers. Immediately, there is movement at his other side. He smiles beatifically down at his Archive, who is already moving up to its knees, running its hands up his thighs. And it stares up at him with its brilliantly glowing green eyes.
“You know,” Jonah begins, drawing out his straining prick. “I do so enjoy all these demonstrations of your devotion to it. All these charming little displays of loyalty.” Jonah strokes his hand up and down it once, twice; slow and languid little pulls. “Well, come on, then.” He keeps his fingers curled around its base, and angles it pointedly downwards. Martin repeats his ritual of deep breaths and closed eyes, and the Archive moves its face right up in his lap.
“ Ah ,” Jonah chides, stopping it. “There is a proper order to all this, remember.”
“I won’t. Ask,” Martin grinds out, between tightly clenched teeth. The Archive strains forward, held only in place by Jonah’s other hand in its hair.
“No?” Jonah asks casually. “Well, then! I suppose,” Jonah starts, angling his cock towards the Archive. “You can just watch ,” he finishes, as he eases his grip on its hair. It immediately moves to press forward, and Jonah gently rubs himself against its slack lips. Its eyes seem to glow even brighter and it whines sweetly for him. It opens its mouth, pushes out its tongue, just like he likes. Just like he wants. Unable to resist giving it anything that it desires, he releases his grip on its hair. It sighs with what sounds like relief, and it takes the head of his prick between its lips, suckling it gently, those beautiful eyes never leaving his own.
Martin sounds like he is being flayed alive. Jonah sighs with decadent pleasure.
“I had wondered, briefly,” Jonah begins, in a conversational tone. “If, in the creation of this ruined world, all those delightful little moments, all those delicious little treats that life provides, would be lost.” He moans deeply and with feeling as the Archive begins to caress him with its tongue, thoroughly, root to tip. “How wonderful to know I needn’t have worried.” Jonah glances down to his side to watch Martin’s hands clench and unclench in his lap.
Jonah slowly and reverently slides both his hands up the sides of the Archive’s scarred, marked face, stroking it, pushing the tips of his fingers into its hair. In his infinite patience he slides between its lips, inch by inch, feeding that hot and hungry mouth. He watches those ethereal eyes roll back as it struggles not to choke as he pushes as deep as he can get into its throat, and holds it there upon his cock for a moment. He stares down at it with pride.
“Incredible what a little knowledge can do, isn’t it so, Martin?” he asks, unable to tear his own eyes from the perfect picture being painted in his lap. He slowly, slowly pulls the Archive off his cock, and it gasps with the loss of him. “It really is exquisite,” he breathes. Jonah holds it a hair's breadth away from his cock again, watches it strain and pant. In this moment he looks over at Martin, who is staring with rapt intensity at his cock. His glistening, shiny, spit-slick cock.
Martin whimpers. Jonah smiles.
“Don’t worry, Martin,” Jonah whispers in his infinite kindness. “You don’t have to ask.” At that, Martin shuts his eyes tightly and leans forward himself. Jonah continues to hold his Archive back, watching as Martin hungrily licks the length of him, sucking and slurping it all over. Jonah doesn’t need to enter his head to know that he’s chasing the taste of the one he loves.
When he’s licked it clean of what the Archive’s left behind, his lips slip off the head and they end up but a breath away from those of the Archive. He leans forward, he closes his eyes, but Jonah pulls the Archive back by its hair, and raises a warning hand.
“Ah, ah, Martin. You know that’s not how this works.” Martin seems about ready to cry, but Jonah thinks again that he won’t need to dive deep into Martin’s mind to be sure that he remembers the rules. Martin nods dumbly, and Jonah releases the Archive. This time, Martin matches its speed, if not its enthusiasm, in pushing forward to press his lips against his cock. The Archive moans its pleasure and Martin lets slip a little open-mouthed cry and they both slide their lips up and down his shaft. Every time their lips catch, even for the briefest moment, Martin whines high in his throat.
Jonah leans back languidly in his throne to watch.
They share him like that for some time-- the Archive dipping down to gently suck his balls into its mouth while Martin slides his tongue around the head. They suck hot kisses onto his shaft, sliding up and down him. And in that moment Jonah feels burdened with the most resplendent charity and slowly, gently takes them both in hand. He guides them up his cock and holds them together at its tip. Their hot tongues slip and slide over it, the three of them moaning, and he presses them together. In that moment their lips meet over him, their tongues meet around him, and they whimper brokenly into each other. Jonah throws his head back and laughs with the heady exhilaration that comes of this power. And then he slips his cock out from between them, pulling them roughly apart before their lips can touch without him there. They moan at this, too.
He leaves them dazed and wanting between his legs, admiring their sticky wet lips and fucked out eyes. In this moment the Archive’s are downright dazzling. He keeps smiling down at them as he slowly pulls at his wet, slippery cock.
“Well then,” he sighs. “Who deserves it?”
His Archive immediately leans forward, unable to articulate the profundity of its need, but its words prove unnecessary as the desperation of its whimpers and the wetness around its precious eyes demonstrate its want clear enough. And Martin leans forward too, lost and fuck-drunk, no doubt in the thrall of those brief caresses of his love’s lips, ready to do anything for permission to feel them again.
But Jonah can’t resist the seductive lure of the neediness of his toy, and once again grips its hair by the roots to turn it towards his aching prick. It immediately and obediently parts its lips. And from there it doesn’t take too many tugs for him to lose it completely, to pour his come, hot and thick and copious, into the Archive’s waiting mouth. He releases its hair immediately and it knows what it is now permitted to do, and so does Martin because he’s suddenly there as well, holding tight to the side of the face of what was once Jonathan Sims. Open-mouthed, he presses his lips against its own, and Jonah watches through heavy-lidded eyes as his thick creamy come slips past the Archive’s lips and between Martin’s. He watches Martin moan from the core of him as he takes Jonah’s spend inside of him, and he watches as it’s passed back and forth between them, spilling from their lips and down their chins.
He watches as they try to savour it as long as they can, swallowing only small gulps at a time to try and prolong the ecstasy. Jonah sees that it is almost all gone and in the final sweet push of their lips together he leans forward to rub his softening cock against their cheeks, pushing the drops of spilt seed that linger there into their skin.
When it’s all gone he pulls his Archive back, leaving Martin alone and unbalanced upon his knees. He looks down and smiles at the sight of a small damp patch at the front of the Archive’s trousers. Martin’s erection still strains against his own. Jonah sighs, long and loud.
“You may go, Martin,” Jonah says, as if it’s a suggestion. He rises on unsteady legs, leaving Jonah alone with his prize.