Auriga

by jubileecore

Summary:

“I don’t hire fucking male strippers, Darko. Does this look like a fucking bacherolette party to you?”

“He said he would be willing to dress like a girl, Nigel. Do you want your fucking replacement or not, dickhead?”

Or

Nigel owns an up-and-coming strip-club in New York City, and Adam is in need of work.

Notes:

Name of the club, Catifea, is Romanian for velvet.

This is a no beta read. Hope to update once a week, I'm making the story up as I go.

I'll update tags as I progress in the story.

Chapter 1

The neon sign buzzed outside, electric red and turquoise humming against the rain-darkened glass of Manhattan’s Lower West Side. Inside, the velvet curtains swallowed sound, muffling the distant roar of traffic. At the heart of it all was Nigel: a mousy blonde-haired man with an angular jaw that suggested he could handle trouble, but tonight, trouble had handled him first. His club, Catifea, was barely six months old, but he’d poured every last dollar, every sleepless night, every fiber of his restless energy into its success. And one of his star performers had just walked out on him.

Nigel stared at the empty stage, the last echo of her high-heeled footsteps faded on the glossy black floor still ringing in his ears. Periwinkle lights arced across the ceiling, scattering stars across the smoke—an illusion of the cosmos he’d cultivated for his dancers and his patrons. He pressed a finger to the velvet rope, flinching as it hummed under his touch, and inhaled the faint scent of lavender that one of his other dancers had sprayed in lieu of letting the room go to stale cigarette smoke.

He bit back a grunt as he fished a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it with unnecessary force behind the flick of his wrist.

He should have seen it coming. The month leading up to this moment, she’d begun to ask odd questions about the long term stability of the club, about her pay. Ever since business had boomed and competition bit back, even a hint of insecurity among his dancers could mean disaster. And this morning, she’d given notice: her car was packed, and she’d hightailed it back to Florida without a single backward glance.

A part of Nigel roared at the sudden disappearance and almost betrayal. It made a distinct voice in the back of his mind trail back to Gabi. He wasn’t particularly fond of this stripper like he was with Gabi, obviously not, but to say it didn’t somehow sting in a similar way, the kind of sharp burn that impales your stomach just below the naval, was a lie. He was pissed at anything and everything.

Nigel ran a restless hand through his hair. None of the other girls agreed to work more hours to cover her ass, moreso his ass, even if it meant more pay. The girls had lives of their own, and they only agreed to work what they signed off on. Despite this, Nigel can’t put out the flame of frustration resting in his belly. He flicked the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray nearby and half-heartedly kicked the trash can at his feet.

Darko emerged from the dim back hallway. He moved fast, both on-edge and determined, as if he’d rehearsed this entrance a dozen times. “Nigel,” he said, voice low, “I have something. More like, someone.”

Nigel lifted an eyebrow. “Who the fuck did you find?”

Darko closed the distance in two strides and lowered his voice. “I pulled some strings. There’s a new performer.”

“When can she start?” Nigel demanded, already fishing out another cigarette.

“She is actually a he, Nigel.” Darko replied quickly, sounding like he’s almost attempting to gloss over that catch.

Nigel’s mouth flattened. He’d never dream to feature a male stripper at Catifea—his crowd was predominantly filthy straight men looking for a woman to ogle at while they mindlessly guzzled liquor down their throats. “I don’t hire fucking male strippers, Darko. Does this look like a fucking bacherolette party to you?”

“He said he would be willing to dress like a girl, Nigel. Do you want your fucking replacement or not, dickhead?”

Nigel paused at that. He never considered having a cross-dressing performer, but to Nigel it seemed like a high-risk gamble. He kept the lights low and fluttering in the club, and most regulars would probably be too inebriated to tell, but Nigel was unsure if the risk was worth it; Both the risk of his reputation and the risk of this mystery stripper’s safety.

“He's willing to go the extra mile. Makeup, heels, skirt, the works.” Darko added, taking note of Nigel’s hesitance. “He did so a few times at his old gig before the club caught fire.”

“The gay club on fucking 33rd?” Nigel inquired.

“Precisely.” Darko replied. Nigel flicked his second cigarette butt into the same ashtray and ran a calloused hand over his face.

Nigel sighed. “Name?”

“His name’s Adam.”

Nigel paused. Adam. So ordinary it almost sounded fake. “Adam… fucking Adams? Adam what?”

“Adam Raki. Already did a background check for your paranoid ass. Used to work at some toy company, got fired and became a stripper for whatever reason.” Darko huffed, plopping himself down in a nearby chair.

Nigel rubbed his chin. “He shows up tonight?”

Darko nodded. “I spoke to him on the phone. He’ll be here in a few hours. In costume.”

“Costume?”

“What, do you want to be the one dressing him?”

Nigel scowled whilst Darko bit back an obvious smirk. He knows this new hire could be sketchy, could land him in a heap of trouble amongst his regulars. Despite this, no other viable options have landed in his lap; It’s not like he will go up on stage and strip.

“One night.” Nigel concluded. Darko nodded, stood up from the plush chair and headed to the back office.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The green room smelled of stale hairspray and cheap body lotion. It was cramped, with a couch that had seen too many bodies and mirrors framed in Hollywood bulbs that blazed like miniature suns. Nigel lounged on the edge of the couch, the first two buttons of his button up undone, shirt sleeves rolled up once to enunciate his biceps. He tapped his watch. The swirls of hairspray settled in the air, making golden halos around the bulbs. Music thumped distantly through the wall.

Darko opened the door a crack. “Here.”

Nigel stood, straightening his shirt and smoothing his hair. He swallowed and stepped forward.

The figure in the back doorway was breathtaking. He stood perhaps five-eleven, though the black pumps added a couple of inches—long, elegant legs sheathed in sheer black stockings. He wore a satin corset dyed deep blue, cinched at a wafer-thin waist, ornate with black lace and sequins. A short taffeta skirt flared, teasing glimpses of shapely thighs. His shoulders and arms, exposed, glowed pale and smooth beneath the bulbs. His face looked otherworldly, accented by contoured cheeks, extra-long lashes, and glossy ruby lips. Long dark hair spilled around his head and face in gentle waves; each strand caught the light like spun silk.

Nigel’s breath caught in his throat. Nigel certainly wasn’t expecting perfection to stand in front of him, perhaps a muscular meathead with barely there 5 o’ clock shadow and cheap heel boots. Instead, he’s greeted by beauty unprecedented in this world, let alone his strip-club. An unfamiliar fluttering began to gnaw at Nigel’s stomach, a low rumble of nerves and lust.

Adam hesitantly entered the green room, taking in the scene around him. His nose wrinkled at the stale scent of cheap perfume and tobacco. When his eyes finished scanning the room, they landed on Nigel on the couch staring back at him. Nigel rose to his feet, walked over to the doe-eyed boy and held out his hand.

“Hello gorgeous.”

“Adam, Adam Raki.” Adam took Nigel’s hand. If Adam was nervous, his handshake didn’t show it.

Adam was the first to let his hand fall back to his side, absentmindedly swiping the sweat off his palm onto his stockings. Other dancers started to file into the green room, their eyes taking Adam in before parting to their own devices.

“Name’s Nigel. You got a stripper name, gorgeous? Don’t think you can walk out there as fucking Adam.” Nigel chuckled, sliding a cigarette out of his pocket.

“I know that, Nigel. I’ve performed before.” Adam slightly frowned. “It would be unwise to use my first name or my previous dancer name, so I have settled on Auriga. Auriga is a constellation in the northern sky, best known for its brightest star, Capella, which is one of the brightest stars visible from Earth. Auriga is rich in star clusters, including Messier 36, 37, and 38, which lie amongst the plane of the Milky Way. The constellation is quite visible in the winter months, especially in February. Auriga is also bordered by other constellations such as Taurus and Perseus.”

Nigel paused, looking up from lighting his cigarette. “You seem to know a lot about space, gorgeous. Why are you stripping?”

“I lost my job and I don’t want to lose my apartment.” Adam stated. “Where can I put my bag?”

“You can set up next to Bella, the brunette in red.” Nigel nudged his head in the direction of Bella, his cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Adam nodded and headed that way, on the opposite side to where Nigel is left standing in the green room.

Darko’s eyes landed on Nigel, biting back a knowing smirk before making his way out of the green room to check on the club floor. Nigel meant to follow, but his eyes fell on Adam instead, organizing his belongings while Bella attempted to make small talk.

Nigel watched every detail of the gorgeous boy: the strong line of Adam’s jaw, slightly square but softened by makeup, the slender curve of his neck, the way his shoulders flexed under the corset. His pulse jumped, and he forced himself to leave the green room.

Nigel patrolled the club, taking in the sleazy and busy Saturday night life enveloping him. Tables filled with glasses caught the light, silhouettes of men and women, mostly men, chattering and laughing around the stage. Some infiltrated the dance floor, drunkenly swaying to the run-of-the-mill house beats. If not on the floor, they were hounding the bar. One by one, his dancers started their routines on stage. He watched as men haphazardly tucked dollar bills into their waistbands or threw them onto the stage.

Hours passed. Nigel’s time was mostly taken up by checking up on staff, dismissing dancers for the night if they had no private shows, and throwing creeps out of the club, with one encounter ending in a bloody nose for Nigel and a bloodied face for a newcomer.

Nigel found himself some time to settle, plopping down into the DJ booth with a glass of whiskey.

“New girl, boss? Saw a name I don’t recognize.” The DJ questioned.

“Not a fucking girl, John,” Nigel muttered. “He’s… a guy. They don’t know that.”

John saw Nigel gesture to the patrons in the club and picked up on what Nigel was hinting at. He shrugged. “If he looks like a girl, does it matter?”

Nigel sipped, ice clinking. He watched the stage. He knew he shouldn’t get attached—performers came and went, and attachments only complicated payouts and contracts and breakups. But just now, with Auriga waiting in the green room, he felt more tangled than he had in years.

John’s voice crackled over the PA: “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome tonight’s special guest, Auriga!” Adam slowly walked down to center stage, revealing Auriga under the flashy lights.

Time slowed for Nigel. He watched the silhouette emerge. His brunette hair seemed to be shimmering under the lights, deducing that Bella spritzed some glitter on him as a finishing touch. Nigel swore that he could hear his heels clack as he made his way to the front of the pole. The music dropped into a throbbing beat, and Auriga moved. Step, slide; hips swayed, a fluid motion. Each gesture was deliberate, teasing. He bent forward to trace his pale fingers up the front of his thighs before coming to rest on his hips. The audience erupted in appreciative whistles and cheers.

Nigel’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Auriga’s fingers starting to teasingly trace the outline of the corset, fingertips dancing over lace and fabric. When the skirt came off, revealing stockings held by garters and a pair of night-sky blue shorts, the crowd roared, but Nigel’s focus narrowed to Auriga’s eyes, finding them calm, steady, just a hint of vulnerability under the makeup.

As the corset belt buckles popped open, Nigel felt his chest tighten. Every swift movement revealed another inch of pale skin, every shred of ornament laid bare underlying reality. He reminded himself Aurelia was a performer, a role. Yet the way Adam—Auriga—owned the stage, with ruthless poise as if he’s rehearsed this a million times before, made Nigel’s own careful control slip. He couldn’t look away.

The corset revealed a hidden bralette underneath, the cupping giving the illusion of small breasts. It looked convincing from a distance, but if it didn’t up close, Nigel couldn’t find himself to care, coming to the conclusion that the floor was too drunk to notice. Auriga’s stomach was pale and smooth, with just the slightest hint of puppy fat, much like the tops of his thighs slightly spilling over his stockings.

Auriga took hold of the pole, spinning with grace akin to a ballerina found inside a vintage music box. His hips gyrated to the beat of the music after Auriga planted his feet onto the ground, holding onto the pole above his head, and Nigel found himself shifting in his seat. Auriga knelt near the edge of the center catwalk, creamy thighs spread wide and continuing to lift and release his hips to the beat. Men crowded the stage to slip bills into his waistband and stockings, others simply tossing bills in front of Auriga.

Nigel felt a fuse short circuit inside his chest. The men looked like pigs crowding around their daily helping of slop, unknowing that they’re merely being plumped up for the slaughter. Except Adam—Auriga— isn’t slop, he’s an Earthly angel that is far above the presence of these sordid swine. Nigel, for the first time in a while, found himself almost disgusted by the business he was running. Sure, he had seen the unsavory and vile side of man, but the audacity these men had to throw their crumpled and damp bills at the most beautiful creature he has ever had the privilege to feast his eyes upon, to not be at his feet thanking him for his existence–

Nigel’s thoughts were disrupted by the roaring cheers and whistles as Auriga exited the stage. Nigel abruptly stood up, hearing John say something positive about the performance, but it was drowned out by the hammering of his own heart.

Moments later, in the green room, Darko poured water into a plastic cup for Adam, who was sitting on the couch. He nearly spilled it all over Adam as he handed it to him, Nigel slamming the door open making him jump out of his skin.

“Jesus fuck, Nigel. Might as well kick down the whole fucking door while you’re at it.” Darko barked whilst putting the water pitcher down before taking his leave from the green room.

Adam sat on the couch, breathing deeply. He closed his eyes as the heat faded from his face. The lights and music had hurt his senses, leaving his nerves feeling a little frayed. Adam had grown to accept that he will never truly get used to the overwhelming stimuli he is met with whilst dancing, but only hopes that it gets easier. He took steady breaths, and as if he can sense that Nigel opened his mouth to speak, Adam piped up first.

“Can you dim the lights please?”

Nigel froze for a second before nodding and dimming the lights. Adam let out a soft sigh before slowly opening his eyes, craning his neck slightly to look up at Nigel, his eyes drifting to the pinup girl tattoo on Nigel's neck.

“Adam.”

Adam’s eyes fluttered open. “Yes?”

Nigel swallowed. “I want to talk.”

Adam stood, the half-full cup of water still in hand. “Okay.”

There was a pause, an unspoken hum in the air. Nigel stretched his fingers. “You did… exactly what I fucking wanted.”

Adam tilted his head. “I did some research on your club before I arrived. I read the crowd as best I could.”

Nigel nodded. “That you did. And me.”

Adam’s brow flickered. “You… you liked it?”

Nigel smiled. “I didn’t just fucking like it.”

Adam blinked, cheeks shading pale pink under makeup. “I thought you might not. I… I wanted to be sure.”

Nigel’s heart pounded at hearing the tremor in Adam’s voice. “Auriga’s yours. The stage is fucking yours. But I want you here, too,” he waved around the green room, “to know you’re safe. If you have fucking problems at the club, any at all, I want you to tell me.”

Adam’s mouth twitched, a small smile. “Thank you.”

Nigel hesitated, looking for words beyond the professional. “If you want, I can call you Adam offstage.”

Adam’s smile widened, gratitude shining in his eyes. “I’d like that.”

Nigel extended a hand. Adam shook it firmly and then released it. Nigel straightened. “Tomorrow we talk schedule. And music choice.” He paused, then added, “And any concerns you might have. On Sundays, the club is closed, so it’ll just be us.”

Adam’s gaze held Nigel’s for a split second before looking down at his lap. “Okay.”

Nigel nodded. He turned to leave, then glanced back and whispered, “You’re fucking stunning.”

Adam’s fingertips brushed a loose curl. “Thank you.”

Nigel walked out into the hall. The pulse of the club thumped through the wall, but Nigel’s mind hummed to a different rhythm; One that spoke of something unexpected, unwelcome perhaps in business, but not wholly unwelcome in his chest. He had a performer, a beautiful one. And maybe, just maybe, something more.

Chapter 2

Notes:

I have written more than I anticipated over the past couple days.

Updates will be more frequent.

Enjoy!

The next evening, the club was closed. The buzz of Catifea was silent, the usual electric haze muffled by dimmed lights and the quiet lull of the radio. Inside, the air was stale, stagnant and hanging like still water. No music pulsed through the floors. No heady perfume wafted from the green room. No bills shoved into waistbands like last minute mail at the post office.

But Nigel was there. He stood behind the bar in a loose black T-shirt and worn jeans, slicing limes just to keep his hands busy. Tonight was business, but also, not quite. He’d been thinking about Adam. No—Auriga. No—Adam. That part still tangled in his head.

The door creaked open precisely at six, and Nigel looked up, half-expecting some stray dancer who forgot their lipstick or had a complaint to lay heavily on Nigel. Instead, Adam stood there without the makeup, corset, or heels. Just Adam.

His dark curls were styled and seemed freshly trimmed, and he wore a light sweater over a fitted off-white collared shirt and tan trousers. His neat attire was a sight to behold compared to the flashy yet classy persona of Auriga. Still slender and elegant, but there was a hesitance in his gait, a certain careful choreography to his every step.

“You’re right on time,” Nigel said, wiping his hands on a towel.

“I know. I like to be on time.” Adam walked further in, glancing around at the silent stage, the empty tables. “It’s quieter like this. I like it.”

Nigel nodded. “You want to sit? We can talk over here.”

He motioned to a booth near the back, one reserved for VIPs, ironically the only part of the club that didn’t smell faintly like whiskey and glitter glue. Adam nodded and Nigel set down the towel on the bar countertop, making his way to the booth.

Adam slid in across from Nigel, his hands folded neatly in front of him. His gaze flicked across the club: the lights, the stage, the pole that desperately needed to be wiped of fingerprints.

Nigel took out a notepad from his back pocket. “Alright. First up, your schedule.”

Adam raised his eyebrows. “Do I get a say in it?”

“Of course you do. I don’t run a fucking prison.” Nigel smirked. “How many nights are you good for?”

Adam considered. “Three. Maybe four, if they’re spread out.”

“Three’s good,” Nigel said. “Let’s do Thursday, Friday, Saturday. Saturdays are heavier. If you’re cool with that being your main night.”

“That’s okay.” Adam reached up, touching his throat lightly, as if grounding himself. “Earlier in the night, though. I like to be up in time for breakfast and I need my sleep.”

One of Nigel’s eyebrows quirked up for a split second. “Noted.”

A pause stretched between them. Nigel cleared his throat and scribbled something. “Music. You want to pick your own tracks?”

Adam nodded, a little more enthusiastically. “I already have some in mind. I don’t like anything too loud. Nothing with sirens or screaming.”

“No fucking dubstep then,” Nigel joked.

Adam gave a soft smile, brief but genuine. “No dubstep.”

“What songs do you have in mind?”

“I have a playlist. It’s not like any of the other dancers’ music. It's slower, more… synthy.” Adam did a broad undecipherable gesture with his hands. “I choreograph better when the music isn’t overwhelming.”

Nigel looked at him, pen paused in midair. “You choreograph your routines?”

“Who else is going to do it?”

“Usually the girls help each other with choreographing routines.” Nigel took a breath to stare at Adam. When Adam said nothing in return, Nigel continued. “Alright, we’ll get the DJ to use your list. You can rehearse here during off-hours, if you want. I’ll get you a set of keys.”

“Thank you.” Adam’s voice was soft, but clear. “That would help.”

Another pause. Adam kept glancing towards the bar, grimacing at how the bar sink dripped rhythmically. Nigel leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

“Any concerns about the job?” he asked. “Safety? Dressing room? Creeps?”

Adam looked down at his hands. “I’d prefer a separate dressing space, if possible. The girls are nice, but it’s easier for me to decompress alone.”

“You got it.”

“And,” Adam hesitated. “Can I keep the lights dim in the green room after shows? Not dark. Just not…bright.”

Nigel gave a half-nod. “Done. Anything else?”

Adam took a breath. “I am unsure about private shows. I didn’t do them at my previous job, but I know most of the girls do them here.”

Nigel rubbed his chin, his eyes slightly softening. “If you’re worried about safety, I can have someone stand outside the room.” Nigel being the one to stand outside the room was left unsaid.

Adam looked up from his hands to gaze at Nigel’s neck tattoo. “I would rather not do them.”

If Nigel let out a breath of relief, Adam didn’t notice. “Not a problem.”

Adam opened his mouth, closed it, then said, “You’re different when the club is empty.”

Nigel looked up from his worn down notepad. “How so?”

“You’re quieter.” He shrugged. “You’re nice when you’re not slamming doors.”

Nigel laughed under his breath. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a fucking reputation.”

Adam smiled again, small and soft before looking back at the bar once more. Nigel felt that flicker in his chest again. The feeling is too dangerous to name, but it’s one that’s starting to become sickeningly familiar.

There was a beat of silence, then Nigel spoke.

“Come to dinner with me.”

Adam blinked. “Why?”

“You hungry?”

“I—well, yes.”

“It’s not a date.” Nigel said it too quickly. “Just…we’ve talked business. Now I want to know what kind of weirdo you are.”

Adam’s brows furrowed at the word choice of ‘weirdo’. “Do I get to pick the place? I’m particular about my food.”

Nigel lifted an eyebrow and jerked his head. “You do.”

“Okay.” Adam’s mouth twitched.

Fifteen minutes later, Nigel was standing outside a modest hole-in-the-wall café four blocks from the club. The sign read “Mac’s Cheese Shack” in peeling yellow paint. A cartoon macaroni noodle waved at him from the window.

“Didn’t even know this place fucking existed.” Nigel muttered.

Inside, the place was small, warm, and smelled strongly of cheese. Families sat at a few of the booths. A tired couple shared a table near the window. The menu was a chalkboard above the counter with phrases like Mac Supreme and Bacon Mac Blitz scribbled in bubble letters.

Adam ordered with military precision. “One small Mac Classic. No breadcrumbs. Extra cheddar. No sides. Large iced water.”

Nigel raised a brow as he ordered a “Mac Inferno” and a Coke. “That’s really all you’re getting?”

Adam nodded as they found a booth. “Yes. Like I said, I am particular about my food. I really only eat mac and cheese. Chicken and broccoli. Cereal. Always the same prep. It’s familiar and safe.”

Nigel blinked. “Safe?”

“I’m autistic,” Adam said matter-of-factly, although his tone now took on something more hushed. “Food is one of the ways I manage overstimulation. I eat what doesn’t stress me out.”

Nigel blinked again. “Okay.”

Food arrived at the table and Adam ate in small bites. Nigel proceeded to shovel cheesy noodles down his throat. Adam tilted his head. “Not a problem?”

“No.” He leaned back, genuinely curious. “I just… Don’t know a lot about it.”

“That’s fine.”

Nigel paused to take another big bite. If Adam was off-put by Nigel’s manners, he didn’t say anything. “So…you only let yourself choreograph your routines, you pick music that doesn’t overwhelm you, and you eat things that are… Safe.”

“Yes.”

“And then you put on heels and tight clothing, stand under bright as hell spotlights, and let drunk men throw singles at you?”

Adam’s lips pursed. “Yes.”

Nigel laughed deeply, his years of cigarette smoke apparent in his breath. It rumbled through him, loosening something tight in his chest. He hadn’t laughed like that in months.

Adam frowned. “Why are you laughing?”

“It just doesn’t make any fucking sense to me, that’s all.” Nigel explained.

Adam looked down at his mac and cheese, stirring it around. “Most people don’t make sense to me. They lie a lot or expect me to understand what they’re thinking without saying anything.”

Nigel’s brows furrowed, taking in the strange and gorgeous boy in front of him. He nodded slowly; Adam was making perfect sense, he didn’t like liars either. Lies led to betrayal, betrayal led to heartbreak. Nigel decided to drop the subject before he said something he would come to regret.

They talked more over dinner. About nothing at first—bad club music, the most annoying types of customers, the time a guy tried to pay with Monopoly money. But then it turned again, gently, toward Adam.

He spoke about his old position at the toy company. How he’d been a toy designer, and how he loved details. He passionately expanded on the programming behind his project, the texture of plastics, the importance of choosing an appropriate color palette.

“They fired me,” he said, quietly. “Said I took too long with revisions and that I was too picky.”

Nigel felt a low heat of anger boil in his gut. How could anyone fire Adam? “And you became a fucking stripper?”

Adam gave a one shoulder shrug. “I told you, I needed rent. I didn't want to lose my dad’s place. I still don’t. I saw an ad for auditions at the gay club on 33rd. I went there a couple times with coworkers. It looked fun to perform. I didn’t think I’d get it.”

Nigel flashed a soft smirk. “But you did.”

“I did. And I liked it.” Adam glanced down at his nearly finished dinner. “More than I thought I would. There’s structure to performance. It’s predictable and it makes sense to me. More than the toy company ever did.”

Adam paused before continuing. “I get to be someone else. I don’t have to be the person that lost their job, the person who’s different from everyone else. It’s like what children do, play pretend.”

Nigel looked at him, truly looked at him, and felt that now-familiar ache. He wanted to say something about the way Adam had moved last night, about the way he’d lit up the stage like he belonged to it.

Instead, Nigel asked. “You wanna head to your place? I’ll walk you back.”

Adam nodded.

The walk back was cool and crisp, a late spring breeze threading between buildings like a breath of fresh air. They walked side-by-side, steps in easy sync. Neither spoke for a while. Adam didn’t feel the need to speak. Nigel wanted to spill his guts.

They arrived at Adam’s building, a narrow ten-story. Not the newest building on the block, but well-kept. Definitely nicer than any other complex Nigel has found himself residing in. He turned to face Nigel.

“Thanks,” he said. “For dinner.”

Nigel shrugged. “Anytime.”

“And for…being nice. People don’t like it when I’m picky.”

“You’re not fucking picky. You’re just honest about what you need. That’s rare.”

Adam nodded, eyes shining faintly under the streetlamp. He touched the door behind him. “Goodnight, Nigel.”

Nigel hesitated, a one-sided smile gracing his lips. “Goodnight, Adam.”

But he didn’t turn to leave right away. Instead, he watched Adam rummage through his pockets to find the keys to his apartment. Nigel lit a cigarette, the tobacco smoke tickling Adam’s nose as the wind blew it in his direction. As Adam opened the door, he paused and looked back.

“You drink a lot while you work at the club, I can smell it on you. Your stomach probably hurts a lot. You should eat broccoli more often. It’s good for you.”

Nigel let out a soft, but exasperated, breath that took the form of a chuckle. “I’ll take your fucking word for it, gorgeous.”

Adam gave a small wave and disappeared behind the door.

Nigel stood there for another moment finishing off his cigarette before heading back toward his own apartment, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

Chapter 3

The club smelled of stale tequila and tanning lotion. For the next four days, Nigel lived in that scent. The scent was twisted, a hybrid between unchecked lust and underlying rot. It clung to his clothes, crept into his sheets, and permeated his morning coffee. He threw himself into club management with a manic intensity, but no amount of invoices, inventory lists, or staff disputes could scrape Adam from his mind.

He tried to tell himself it was because of the business. Adam was valuable. Adam was rare. Adam was vulnerable. A performer who could stun a crowd and still speak softly, hands folded, eyes downcast like a lamb in the midst of prayer? Adam’s presence in his club was a gift.

But the truth nagged him in quieter moments: Nigel wanted to see him again. He wanted to hear the way Adam pronounced his syllables, deliberate, sure yet soft, like he thought language would chip his teeth if he misspoke. He wanted to look at him again, to see if the light would catch differently on his skin the second time around. Nigel even caught himself typing "Auriga constellation" into his phone at 2am, learning about Capella and Messier clusters until sleep eventually claimed him.

Still, Nigel denied his feelings, even though they threatened to escape his chest and crawl up his throat.

He smoked more cigarettes than usual, which was a lot for Nigel. Darko noticed. “You tryin' to kill yourself, asshole?” he joked on Tuesday.

Nigel had grunted, sharp and dry, and tossed the half-smoked butt away.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Thursday finally arrived. Spring rain skimmed over the city like a whisper, not quite falling, just threatening to. Nigel wore his cartoon dog-clad button-down and he spent more time on his hair that morning, though he told himself it was for the city inspector dropping by before the club opened.

It wasn’t.

He checked the green room five times before Adam arrived. At 7:45 PM sharp, the back door creaked open. Nigel stood from the couch without realizing it.

Adam stepped in, hunched slightly from the chilled wind. He wore a grey sweater with a navy blue button up underneath. A black duffel bag hung from his shoulder. Nigel watched him walk, noted the tired slump in his shoulders, the way he blinked owlishly.

“You made it,” Nigel said, keeping his voice casual.

“You said Thursday.” Adam smiled, soft and crooked.

Nigel gestured toward the open door between two of the vanity mirrors. “You can set up there. I promised you a private room.”

Adam nodded and moved to unpack. He didn't close the door yet, no reason to. He laid things out with the same precision as last time. Hair volume powder. Brush. Makeup. A pair of silver heels that gleamed under the lights. Nigel lingered nearby, pretending to scroll through his phone, watching out of the corner of his eye.

Then he saw it.

The outfit.

It was different this time. A black bodysuit, tight enough to show everything and hide nothing, with a deep plunge that ended just below the sternum. Rhinestones lined the neckline like stars in a galaxy. A garter belt sat beside it, along with a pair of thigh-high stockings and a harness. The effect would be... devastating.

“That what you’re wearing tonight?” Nigel asked, trying not to sound hoarse.

Adam looked over his shoulder. “Is it too much?”

Nigel cleared his throat. “No. It’s... It'll pack the floor.”

Adam turned back to his mirror. Nigel felt something tighten in his chest—a strange mix of pride and possessiveness. The idea of drunk men ogling Adam made his teeth grind, but business was business.

Still, he lingered.

He watched Adam apply his makeup. Every stroke was meticulous. Ruby lips again, but with added shimmer. A dark smoky eye. Nigel felt his pulse climb.

His attraction twisted into something deeper, warmer, it felt as though an ache was starting to stir just beneath his ribs. Nigel swallowed hard, the feeling blooming into uneasy self-awareness. He shouldn’t be drawn in like this. His heart was attaching too fast, he couldn’t play this game again. He barely knew Adam, but already, unsavory possessive thoughts danced on the edge of his mind. He hated how familiar this felt, how easily obsession could take root inside him. He swallowed down his own mind with a dry throat. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette as his chaser.

He forced himself to leave when a dancer, Lily, called his name. Adam stood and closed the door.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

By the time Auriga stepped onto the stage at 10:00 PM, the club was already loud. The music thumped low and dirty, a slow and sensual track that Nigel hadn’t heard before but decided it fit the mood. It crawled under the skin and made a home out of his ribs.

Auriga emerged through stage left, hips rolling, arms loose at his sides. The outfit shimmered with each step. The crowd howled.

He moved like sin. Every glance, every glimmer that caught in his round blue-green eyes, every swivel of his waist screamed want me. He climbed the pole, spun slow, then dropped like a falling star, landing in a suggestive position that made the crowd erupt.

But that was just the start.

Auriga crawled across the stage on all fours, pausing beneath the spotlight to arch his back, showing off his perky ass, and tossed a wink toward the nearest table. He rose slowly, trailing his hands over his chest and thighs, then straddled the pole and used it to suspend himself, legs locked tight and head thrown back. The music swelled, and he rode the beat with hypnotic precision.

Nigel watched from the side, arms crossed, but his body buzzed. His mouth was dry, his palms sticking to the inside of his toned biceps. He’d seen hundreds of performers, employed dozens, but never like this. He seemed more confident this time around, more comfortable. Auriga owned the room. He wasn’t performing. He was commanding.

Dollars rained like confetti. Auriga took them all with grace, tucking them into his garters, twirling around patrons who dared get too close. His smile said look, but don’t touch.

And most obeyed.

Except one.

The man appeared sometime after the routine ended. Adam was wiping his brow down in the corner near the bar, sipping water and forcing himself through small talk with the nearby bartender. Nigel spotted the guy instantly: mid-thirties, red button-down, slicked-back hair. Too drunk, too cocky.

He leaned in close to Adam.

Nigel stiffened. The sight of the man leaning in too close made something primal stir in him, coating his intestines with a dull ache.

The guy said something. Adam shook his head politely. The man said something else, louder. Nigel caught the edge of it: “Don’t be such a tease.”

Adam stood firm. He smiled politely. “I don’t do private shows.” He squeaked, his voice considerably higher pitched. Nigel knew why.

Nigel moved.

The man grabbed Adam’s wrist.

Nigel was on him in three strides. Anger bubbled through his body like fire, his fingertips tingling with pure rage. Possessiveness nearly managed to growl out of his loins, creeping up his throat like bile.

“Let go.”

The man turned, feigning confusion.

Nigel didn’t repeat himself. He grabbed the guy by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

“I said,” Nigel growled, nose inches from the man’s face, “let the fuck go.”

The man released Adam instantly, eyes wide. Nigel’s grip tightened.

“You ever lay a filthy fucking hand on one of my dancers again, I’ll make sure you leave in an fucking ambulance.”

The man stammered something—an apology, maybe.

Nigel shoved him toward the door. “Get the fuck out. If you come back, I'll be sure to make it so that you never walk into a fucking club again.”

Darko appeared to finish the job, wanting to get this man far away from Nigel before Nigel did something that he would grow to regret. The man vanished through the crowd, eyes darting like a rat flushed from a drain.

Nigel turned.

Adam stood frozen, water cup still in hand, expression unreadable. Nigel approached slowly.

“You okay?”

Adam nodded. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Adam looked up. His eyes shimmered beneath the stage lights. “Yes. Thank you.”

Nigel exhaled, his heartbeat finally beginning to slow.

“You handled it,” Adam said. “Fast.”

“I don’t tolerate that shit. Not from anyone.” Nigel growled.

Adam nodded, and for a second, they stood in silence. Then he added, “I really don’t do private shows. I don’t feel comfortable.”

Nigel shook his head. “I know. You don’t have to explain. Your body, your rules. Always.”

Adam’s lips twitched into a half-smile.

Nigel stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You were amazing out there.”

“You saw me perform Saturday. You say that like you’re surprised.”

Nigel smirked. “I shouldn’t be, should I?”

They stood there for a beat longer before Adam glanced at the clock.

“I want to change and go home.”

Nigel paused. “If you want. Me, Darko and the girls have afterwork drinks around 2am, if you would like to join us.”

Adam considered the invitation and nodded. He watched Adam walk away, his eyes trailing down to his pert, pale ass.

His mind swirled, intoxicated with Adam. His bare legs. That outfit. That look in his eyes when he said thank you. Nigel leaned against the hallway wall, staring at nothing. He was in trouble. And he knew it.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The club was emptied by 2:00 AM, only the quiet thrum of music and the flicker of overheads keeping the air warm and moving. Darko had shut down the main floor, locking the front door while a few dancers and bar staff lingered for an unofficial tradition, afterwork drinks.

Nigel wasn’t one for sentiment, but there was something about this ritual that soothed the edge off his night. Everyone was looser, stockings rolled down to the ankles, lashes peeled and stuck to the bar like little trophies. He lit a cigarette and leaned against the far end of the bar, swirling a half-empty glass of whiskey. The ashtray beside him overflowed.

The front double-doors creaked open to reveal Adam, still in the clothes he left Catifea in. The girls hollered their hellos and Darko grumbled about how he just locked the door. Adam put on a polite half-smile and perched himself onto a barstool, stifling a yawn.

“Didn’t think you would come. You said you like to get your rest, gorgeous.” Nigel commented.

“Harlan told me that it’s good to push myself to go to social events and make friends, I believe this counts.” Adam replied, absentmindedly rubbing his left eye with a knuckle.

Nigel didn’t ask who Harlan was, but he filed the name in the back of his mind. Adam watched Bella knock back a shot with no chaser, scrunching his nose as if he could smell the alcohol from across the bar.

“You don’t drink?” Bella asked from behind the bar, eyes curious. She was a knockout even without a face full of makeup, her dark, thick curls tied up in a bun, her belly button piercing peeking from under her tank top.

Adam shook his head. “Never have.”

“What, not even a sip?” Darko leaned to pass Nigel another beer, raising an eyebrow in Adam’s direction.

“I just never saw the appeal,” Adam replied, giving a slight shrug. “It smells bad.”

Bella laughed. "Come on, baby. You gotta try at least once. If you hate it, I'll never ask again."

Adam glanced at Nigel, almost like he was asking permission. Nigel gave a noncommittal shrug, though a hot buzz of jealousy coated his stomach at the pet name. “One shot won’t fucking kill you, gorgeous.” he said, voice dry.

Bella grinned and poured out a row of shots of cheap tequila. She pushed one toward Adam, its rim lined with salt, a lime wedge perched atop it like a dare.

Adam stared at the little glass like it might lunge at him. “Okay,” he murmured. “Just one.”

He lifted it, sniffed it, then grimaced. The others laughed gently; Not in a mocking manner, but more akin to watching a toddler try lemon for the first time.

“Just toss it back,” Bella coached. “No thinking. It’s like ripping off a band-aid.”

Adam did. He tilted the shot up and swiftly swallowed it in one go.

Then he gagged.

His eyes watered instantly, rubbing his throat as if that would help the burning sensation to take its leave. He slammed the glass down and pushed the shot glass away from him with an exaggerated wince.

“Ugh,” he gasped. “That’s disgusting.”

Darko howled. Bella snorted. Nigel chuckled into his beer.

“You did it!” Bella cheered, reaching across the bar to dispose of the now empty shot glass. “You popped your tequila cherry. Proud of you.”

Adam groaned and wiped his mouth. “Please keep your promise and never make me do that again.”

Nigel moved down the bar, setting his cigarette in the ashtray again. He stopped beside Adam and leaned on his elbows.

“You okay, gorgeous? Need water or...a priest?”

“Water, please. I'm not religious.” Adam replied, breath still shallow. He rolled his shoulders back to readjust himself, as if the singular shot of tequila had done a factory reset on his body. Bella slid a glass of water to Adam.

They sat like that for a moment, quiet while the rest of the crew joked around. Someone started a card game in the corner. Bella put on a different playlist, something old-school and low-energy. The vibe had fully shifted from the high-stakes neon chaos of the bar to quiet intimacy.

“You really never drank before?” Nigel asked, curious.

Adam shook his head. “I heard it can make you feel out of control. I would not like that. And it smells bad.”

“Makes sense,” Nigel said. “You strike me as someone who’s always three steps ahead.”

Adam looked down at his hands, picking at his fingers. "I try."

Nigel watched him, noting the tired lines under his eyes, the way his lips pressed together like he was holding something in. He wanted to know more about Adam. He wanted to ask about where he came from, how he learned to dance like that, who the fuck Harlan is, but he didn’t want to press too much. Not yet.

“You were really fucking good tonight,” Nigel said. “Not just the performance. The way you held your ground with that dickbag.”

Adam looked up at that. “You mean with the guy at the bar?”

“Yeah. That wasn’t easy.”

Adam’s mouth flattened. “You helped.”

“I meant what I said. Nobody touches my dancers without consent. Not even me.”

Adam blinked, surprised. Nigel almost kicked himself. It sounded rehearsed and half-assed, but it wasn’t. He meant it.

The corners of Adam’s mouth twitched upwards. “Thank you.”

The music shifted to something dreamy, setting the mood to something more slow and lax. Bella had disappeared into the green room with Lily, and the others were distracted. It left Adam and Nigel in a bubble of their own.

“You ever think about doing more?” Nigel asked suddenly. “Outside the club, I mean.”

Adam looked over. “Like what?”

“Modeling, acting, I don’t fucking know. You’ve got a presence.” Nigel picked at his bottom lip.

Adam smiled, small and a little sad. “Not modeling or acting, no. I really want to work in satellite navigation. Space is so vast and waiting to be explored. It's my dream job, but dreams feel different when rent’s due.”

As Adam continued to explain the intricacies of satellite navigation with that soft yet fiery passion, Nigel's thoughts wandered. He imagined Adam seated behind a console, guiding satellites through the stars with quiet precision. It stirred something in him, an ache in the chest akin to heartache or admiration. Nigel couldn’t tell which one it was.

Nigel opened his mouth to speak but Adam changed the subject. “Auriga’s the only thing I’ve ever done that makes me feel like I’m... more than just doing my job. Onstage, I’m someone else.”

Nigel stared at him. But I want you as Adam, he wanted to say. But the words stuck in his throat.

Adam turned slightly, their knees almost touching. Nigel felt the electricity of the almost touch. The tequila had colored Adam’s cheeks slightly, warmed his voice. There was something soft and open about him in this moment.

And that’s when it hit Nigel.

He liked him.

He didn’t just want him; This was different. It was quieter, deeper, hesitant.

He liked the way Adam carried himself, even in silence. He liked the gentleness yet sureness in his mannerisms, the care he gave to everything he touched. He liked how Adam didn’t try to impress anyone. He simply was.

Nigel moved his knee before the feeling could swallow him whole. Adam caught the motion but didn’t react. Instead, he looked down at his now-empty shot glass.

"I hate tequila," Adam declared.

Nigel beamed. "Good. That means you have taste."

They sat there, side by side, silence thick and companionable. Nigel reached for his cigarette, but he didn’t light it.

He just watched Adam, and let himself feel the danger of it all.

Chapter 4

The nights bled into each other, lights and liquor painting over days that no longer held meaning. Adam had been dancing at Catifea for nearly two months straight. Thursday to Saturday, every week without fail, and always arriving on time. Some nights Adam would leave with a quiet goodbye to Nigel, some nights he would stay late or sleepily return for afterwork drinks.

Nigel watched him like a man studying the edge of a knife—drawn in by the gleam, cautious of the damage. He said nothing. He offered no more than he should. He ran the club, he answered questions, he paid the dancers. He smoked, drank and pretended not to care when Adam walked in with his calm, careful steps.

But inside?

He burned.

He wanted to know what Adam ate in the mornings. He wanted to know if he ever laughed, really laughed, or if he just sheepishly smiled in that quiet, boyish way. He wondered if Adam ever danced in his own apartment, just for himself, and he wondered how it would feel to touch his cheek, just once. To feel the soft, pale skin underneath the rough pads on his fingers, to observe the goosebumps prickle up Adam's arms. Nigel remembered what that kind of love could do. He also remembered what it cost. Gabi had taught him that lesson too well.

So he said nothing.

Adam gave nothing away, either. His performance never dipped. His polite yet sure demeanor never cracked. He didn’t seek Nigel out, but he didn’t avoid him either. And Nigel told himself that was enough, that it had to be enough.

Then Saturday night came, and Adam didn’t show up.

Not by 7:45. Not by 7:55. Not by 8:05.

Nigel checked the green room six times. He texted. Nothing. At 8:15, he called. Straight to voicemail.

His stomach dropped.

Adam was never late. Never. Nigel knew this wasn’t some diva stunt or hangover. Something was wrong.

He found Darko near the stockroom, half a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“I need you to manage the fucking floor.”

Darko raised an eyebrow. “You bailing on a Saturday night?”

“Adam hasn't fucking shown up, and I need to go check on him. Cover for me.” Nigel's tone left no room for argument.

Darko studied him, then nodded. “Go.”

Nigel grabbed his helmet, stepped out into the July night heat, straddled his motorcycle, and sped toward the Lower East Side. Adam’s exact address was buried in a file from his employment paperwork. Nigel had never used it, he never dared to give himself that power. But tonight, the asphalt blurred under his wheels as the city lights streaked past.

He arrived at Adam's apartment complex. The entrance buzzed with the flicker of a broken overhead light. He checked the nameplate next to the apartment numbers to make sure it matched the employment paperwork. Fourth floor. He climbed the stairs two at a time.

The hallway smelled like old carpet and laundry soap. He banged on the door marked 4D.

Nothing.

“Adam!” he called.

He knocked again, harder. Still nothing.

Then, he heard a quiet rustle. The door opened just an inch.

Adam.

His eyes were red-rimmed. His face was blotchy and flushed, lips trembling. He didn’t speak. He just opened the door wider.

Nigel’s heart clenched at the sight. He had imagined every horrible possibility on the ride over, but nothing prepared him for how small and broken Adam looked in that moment. His worry flared into something primal, desperate. He wanted to scoop Adam up, to fix it, to make the pain vanish. All the cool detachment he’d worn like armor in the club fell away in an instant. He was scared. Deeply, achingly scared for him. He was scared for himself too.

Nigel stepped inside without a word.

The apartment was well furnished and clean, though the coffee table was a mess of tissues and a half-finished glass of water. A blanket lay crumpled on the couch. Adam sank into it like he’d been holding himself up by force.

“I’m sorry,” Adam whispered. “I should've called you back, but I hate the phone.”

Nigel sat next to him, trying to reel in his building panic despite knowing his efforts were futile. “Are you hurt?”

Adam shook his head, grabbing the blanket. “No. I’m sick. I think it’s a cold. Maybe the flu. I don’t know. It just—”

Adam’s hands began to tremble. His voice cracked. “It threw everything off. My routine. I couldn’t... I couldn’t handle it.”

Nigel leaned forward, his frown deepening. “What happened?”

Adam pulled the blanket tighter. “I woke up late. I couldn’t eat this morning. My body aches and I have a cough that hurts my throat. Then my shower felt wrong. Too hot. Too cold. My toothpaste burned. My socks felt weird. I put them on three times. I threw them across the room. I just... I spiraled. I couldn’t leave. I knew I would be late to work, and that made it worse, and then I panicked because I didn’t want you to be mad, and it just... I broke.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Tears spilled again. “I had a meltdown. It happens sometimes. I feel stupid. Stupid, stupid Adam.”

Adam breath started to quicken. He reached up and started to harshly pull at his curls, and Nigel immediately caught his wrists.

“Don’t,” Nigel said quickly. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Adam opened his eyes. Adam's eyes met Nigel's for a split second before he looked down at his lap. Nigel slowly let go of his wrists.

“You’re not stupid. You’re fucking sick. You had a rough day. That’s allowed.”

Adam stared at him, not quite at him, but more so at the tattoo on his neck. Something unspoken passed between them, heavy and quiet.

“You said meltdown,” Nigel continued gently. “Is it because…”

“Autism,” Adam said, softly. “Yeah.”

“It sounds really fucking rough.”

Adam let out a shaky exhale. “You’re not freaked out? I know I told you before, but…”

“No. I’m fucking pissed that you were alone when it happened. That’s all.”

Adam looked down, ashamed. He absentmindedly picked at his nail beds. “I didn’t want anyone to see me like that again.”

“You don’t have to be polished all the time. Not with me.” Nigel replied, his voice a low rumble.

Silence swept over Adam's apartment like a murky fog. Adam spoke first.

“You’re the first person who’s said that to me and meant it. At least, I hope you meant it. You know I don't like liars.” Adam shifted from picking his nails to biting the tip of his thumb nail.

Nigel exhaled, deeply. The air in the room slowly shifted to something tentative.

“Let me help,” Nigel said.

Adam looked wary. “How?”

“Let me take care of you. Just for tonight. I’ll make tea. I’ll heat up some food. You can just sit. Or sleep. I’ll be quiet.” Nigel’s eyes were all over Adam’s face, drinking in the dried tear streaks on Adam’s flushed cheeks.

Adam hesitated. Then, slowly, he nodded.

Nigel stood in the small kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets. He found chamomile tea and a box of mac and cheese. It wasn’t much, but it would do. He worked in silence, heating the mac and cheese on the stove, the tea steeping beside it. He caught glimpses of Adam curled up on the couch, face slack with exhaustion and staring at nothing. Nigel felt a piece of his heart rot off.

When everything was ready, he brought the tray over. Adam sat up, blinking slowly.

“Thank you.” Adam mumbled.

“You're welcome, gorgeous.”

Adam sipped the tea. He let out a soft sigh. Nigel watched the tension in his shoulders ease. They sat in comfortable quiet for a while.

“You ever take care of someone sick before?” Adam asked.

Nigel nodded. “Gabi used to get migraines. I'd make tea. Rub her temples. Once I even sang to her. Badly.”

Adam didn't ask who Gabi was, so instead he smiled faintly. “Did she appreciate it?”

“She left me for a fucking shithead named Charlie. So maybe not.” Nigel huffed out, the words coming out harsher than intended.

Adam frowned. “I'm sorry.”

Nigel grunted. “It was a while ago.”

“You loved her?”

"Yeah. I did. Too fucking much." Nigel mumbled.

“Have you found anyone new?” Adam took another sip of his tea.

Nigel looked at him. Adam’s eyes were still red, but softer now. Less afraid.

“Well,” Nigel said, “I’m trying not to fall in love with someone new.”

Adam stared.

“But I’m not doing a very fucking good job.”

Adam set the tea down carefully. He blinked slowly, clearly trying to piece together what Nigel meant. “Are you talking about me or somebody else? It's hard for me to understand without someone saying it directly.”

Nigel felt his heart in his throat. His palms were damp, his chest tight with the anxiety of having finally split open something he wasn't sure he could close again.

“I'm talking about you.” Nigel croaked out.

Both of them are silent for a couple of beats before Adam speaks. “You're my boss.”

“Yes.”

“I've heard it's not good for bosses and employees to have relations.” Adam picked at the hem of his t-shirt.

“Are you rejecting me?” Nigel hoarsely chuckled, trying to make light of the situation, but he could feel his heart settling back into his stomach and cracking open.

“No.” Adam replied quickly, slurping a spoonful of mac and cheese. “You're very attractive and kind. I don’t know how to do this. The dating thing. I tried before and it did not go well. I'm very straightforward and people don't like that.”

Nigel felt a fume of jealousy in his chest at the idea of Adam dating someone else, but he ignored it. He instead honed in on the fact that Adam found him attractive, found him kind. Nigel felt that someone calling him kind was akin to calling an apex predator merciful. “I don't mind straightforward. Just… don’t fucking shut me out.”

Adam nodded, slowly. “Okay.”

They said nothing more that night. Nigel cleaned the dishes. Adam curled into sleep on the couch. Nigel pulled a blanket over him and sat on the recliner nearby, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

It was the first time in a long time Adam let someone see him break. It was the first time Nigel admitted he still could love at all. Neither of them said a word, even when Adam woke a couple of times to use the restroom or fight through a coughing fit. But the opportunity to speak sat there, in the silence, waiting, and the two of them would eventually let it in.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Adam woke to the muffled chime of his phone alarm. The tone was gentle, a soft digital trill he chose specifically to avoid being startled. His body felt heavy with the remnants of yesterday's meltdown and illness, but the aching fog that had pressed down on him was slowly beginning to lift.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blinked a few times. The light in the room was dim, filtered through his thick curtains, and the soft sound of water running from the kitchen reached his ears. He pushed himself upright and noticed a shape seated at the dining table, phone in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

Nigel.

For a moment, Adam stared. His brain fumbled to piece together why Nigel was still in his apartment, but soon the memory came rushing back. He could still feel the lingering metallic taste of panic in his mouth, the soft rumble of Nigel’s voice offering tea and mac and cheese, his steady presence on the couch.

Adam wasn’t used to anyone staying. Especially not overnight.

But somehow, it didn’t bother him.

Nigel looked up from his phone and smiled, the soft light of the kitchen catching on his fangs. “Morning, gorgeous.”

“You’re still here.” Adam commented.

“You sound surprised.”

Adam scratched the back of his head. “I'm not used to it.”

Nigel let out a hum of acknowledgement and took a sip of coffee, watching Adam closely.

Adam rose from the couch slowly, stretching. His body was still sore, but less so than last night. He padded to the bathroom, beginning the sequence of his morning routine. Nigel stayed in the kitchen, quietly observing without intruding.

Shower. Brushing teeth. Deodorant. Clean shirt and sweater. Soft trousers. His usual cereal. Adam moved with precision, his routine a practiced waltz that gave his mornings structure and peace. Nigel noticed the meticulousness in each step, the comfort Adam clearly drew from it.

There was something admirable in how carefully he arranged his world each morning. He didn’t talk at all while he worked through it, and Nigel read the room well enough to not interrupt, quietly appreciating the beauty of Adam's exactness. Nigel found it oddly calming, almost sacred watching how Adam reassembled his sense of normalcy.

Eventually, Adam settled at the table across from him, cereal bowl in hand. “Thanks for staying. I didn't ask you to.”

“I know.” Nigel leaned forward. “I wanted to.”

Adam studied him with those unreadable eyes. “Is it because of what you said last night?”

Nigel exhaled. “Yeah. That, and because I care about you. More than I probably should.”

Adam ate a spoonful of cereal. “I care about you too.”

“I just… I wanted to check. If you’re still okay with what I said.”

Adam considered that. “You told me you were trying not to fall in love with me.”

“Yeah. That.” Nigel rubbed the back of his neck, the vulnerability in his voice muddling his voice. “I fucking meant it, gorgeous. I don’t want to scare you off, Adam. You’re important to me, even if this is messy and a little unprofessional. I want to try.”

Adam nodded slowly. “I want to try too, but we have to talk a lot. Tell me how you really feel.”

Nigel smiled. “Agreed. Would you let me take you on a proper date?”

Adam tilted his head. “What does proper mean?”

“Just… dinner, or something we both enjoy. No pressure, no dancing. Just us.”

Adam brightened slightly. “I would like that. Can we have our date on Wednesday?”

“Wednesday it is.” Nigel hesitated. “You pick the place. Something you love.”

Adam mulled it over, eating another spoonful. Then, his face lit up. “The observatory.”

Nigel blinked. “Seriously?”

Adam nodded. “Space is my special interest. I could talk about it for hours.”

Nigel grinned. How could he deny himself to hear Adam at his most passionate? “Then I’m in.”

Notes:

The explicit tag will come in handy for the next chapter. Yes, sex is happening.

Also at the time of posting, happy pride month!! Sending so much love to my fellow queer and trans brothers, sisters, and siblings <333

Chapter 5

Wednesday evening came faster than either of them expected. Nigel dressed simply, in a fitted black button up and the least worn pair of matching jeans he could find. Nigel spent more time than he’d like to admit second-guessing the outfit in the mirror, obsessively running his fingers through his hair to try to make it settle in the same spot. His hands had trembled slightly as he fastened the buttons, anxiety coiling tight in his stomach.

He hadn’t felt this nervous for a date in what feels like forever, the kind of anxiety that settles deep in your gut and threatens to spill out. There was something more delicate about Adam, something that made Nigel want to at least try to be his best self.

Adam met him outside the planetarium with a faint smile, dressed in a navy blue sweater, his hair tidy but keeping its usual fluffy, curly shape.

“Hi Nigel,” he said.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

They entered together, the hush of the observatory wrapping around them like a velvet cloak. The ceiling opened to a dome of stars, projected in vivid clarity. Adam immediately perked up, eyes scanning constellations.

“That one,” Adam pointed, “Auriga. That’s where I got my performer name. It means charioteer. In mythology, he carried the thunderbolts of Zeus. Cool, right?”

Nigel nodded, a grin plastered on his face. “Very cool.”

Adam continued, unprompted, drifting from constellation to constellation. He spoke about red dwarfs, binary stars, exoplanets, black holes, and gravitational lensing. His face was animated, hands flying, voice quick with excitement.

Nigel said very little. He didn’t need to. He was transfixed. Watching Adam rattle off facts about quasars and orbital periods with glowing eyes made something flutter in Nigel’s chest. He admired how intelligent Adam was, how effortlessly he navigated topics that would leave most people lost.

There was a confidence in Adam when he talked about space, a calm certainty that made Nigel want to listen forever. He looked adorable too, eyes wide and sparkling, hands moving animatedly as he spoke. Nigel could hardly believe how lucky he was to witness it.

How had he ended up on a date with someone like this—brilliant, beautiful, and utterly sincere? That same obsessive spark curled through his chest now, but with a new ache beneath it. It still felt all-consuming, thrilling, and electric, but this was different. It felt fragile and tentative and terrifyingly real.

He thought of birth, a new life that is slippery and tender. The need to cradle equaled the need to protect. He wanted to grab onto Adam, hold him in his calloused hands, and protect him. To soothe and possess were his instincts with Adam, constantly waging war against one another.

The date stretched well beyond what either of them expected. After the planetarium dome show, they walked through the telescope garden. Adam stopped to explain the differences between refracting and reflecting telescopes.

Nigel hung on every word, smiling at the way Adam lit up under the pale walkway lights. Later, they sat on a bench under a replica of the Voyager spacecraft. Adam told Nigel about the Golden Record and its significance in representing humanity, his voice toned with certainty and reverence.

Nigel didn’t even notice the barely-there chill of the night. He was too warm from Adam’s presence, too caught up in his voice and mind.

Adam turned to him.

“Am I talking too much?” He frowned.

“Not at all, gorgeous.” Nigel answered with a sincere smile.

“You’ve barely talked.” Adam commented.

“I don’t need to, I love listening to you. You come alive when you talk about space.”

Adam blushed faintly. “Sometimes people say that I talk too much. That I don’t stop.”

Nigel gently grasped Adam's hand resting next to their thighs on the bench. “I don’t think that, gorgeous. You’re fucking amazing.”

Adam looked up at him, his expression softened by starlight. There was a flicker in his eyes, uncertain yet hopeful, that made Nigel’s breath catch. He hesitated, heart thudding, his thoughts tangled between wanting and restraint. He shouldn’t feel so drawn in, so quickly. But Adam’s face was inches away, open and steady, as if waiting for the moment to unfold.

Nigel leaned in. Just a bit. His eyes flickered down to the soft curve of Adam’s cupid’s bow. Slowly, cautiously, the space between them dissolved.

Their lips met in a kiss so gentle it almost wasn’t real. Tentative, sweet. Adam tasted of spit and the remnants of a mint. Nigel bit back a smirk.

When they parted, Adam spoke quietly, but firmly.

“I want to have sex with you.”

Nigel blinked, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline. “Tonight?”

Adam pursed his lips. “Is that okay?”

Nigel laughed softly. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I don’t do things I’m unsure of.” Adam replied.

Nigel took his hand. “Then let’s go.”

The stars watched them go, silent and infinite.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Adam and Nigel walked back to Adam’s apartment. Halfway through their walk, their hands intertwined. Adam led Nigel into the apartment building and up the stairs. Adam’s hands shook slightly as he unlocked the door to his apartment. Nigel didn’t comment on it.

The door clicked shut, muffling the sounds of the bustling world outside, leaving them in a cocoon of anticipation and desire. The warm glow of the lights above casted a soft haze over the living room. They looked at each other, the intensity of their feelings palpable in the air. Adam's heart raced, his breath shallow, as he felt his cheeks flush under Nigel's heated gaze.

“Nigel,” Adam huffed out, nearly a whimper. Adam shyly looked down at the floor before Nigel took Adam’s hand in his once again. He found the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

Nigel took a step closer, closing the gap between them, and gently placed his hand on the back of Adam's neck, pulling him in for a deep, lingering kiss that sent shockwaves of electricity down both their spines.

Adam's body melted into Nigel's embrace, their tongues dancing together, Adam’s tentative and Nigel’s fervent. Nigel's hand traveled down Adam's back, caressing each curve and contour with a gentle, yet firm touch, sending shivers of pleasure throughout his body. Adam's own hands found Nigel's waist, pulling him closer, their bodies pressed together like two magnets drawn by an irresistible force.

Their kiss grew more urgent, their breaths mingling as the tension grew. Nigel softly guided Adam onto the bed, who fell back with a quiet “oomph”. Nigel slipped off his shoes and socks before taking Adam’s off.

“Sorry if you wanted shoes off by the door.” Nigel hoarsely chuckled out. “We got a bit distracted.”

All Adam could do in reply was nod.

Nigel crawled onto the bed and on top of Adam. Nigel's hand reached for the hem of Adam's sweater and undershirt, lifting both items over his head, revealing his pale, slender torso. Adam's chest rose and fell rapidly, his rosy nipples peaked with excitement. Nigel's eyes roved over the beauty that lay before him, drinking in every inch of Adam's bare skin.

He leaned down, placing soft kisses along Adam's jawline, down his neck, and over his collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Adam gasped, arching his neck to give Nigel better access.

Nigel's hands moved to the button of Adam's trousers, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. Adam's eyes never left Nigel's face, filled with a mix of desire and vulnerability as he felt the zipper slide down, the fabric sliding down his coltish legs to reveal his throbbing cock.

Nigel's own arousal was evident, straining against the confines of his own pants. He took his time, savoring the moment, before taking Adam's cock into his hand and stroking it softly. Adam's eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth parting in a silent moan.

With the grace of a man who had done this countless times before, Nigel crawled down the bed until he was face level with Adam’s flushed cock. He placed a gentle kiss on the tip of Adam's cock, the taste of him sending a jolt of pleasure through his own body. Adam's legs wobbled slightly, and Nigel looked up, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he wrapped his hand around the base, taking him into his mouth. Adam's hips bucked slightly, pushing him deeper.

“Nigel… Feels good…” Adam softly mumbled, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

Nigel took his time, teasing and worshiping Adam's cock with his lips and tongue. He knew the importance of patience in these moments, of building the tension until it was almost unbearable. Adam's breathing grew ragged, his hands fisting in Nigel's hair as he guided him, setting a pace that had him on the edge of ecstasy. But Nigel had more in store for him, much more.

Slowly, and reluctantly, Nigel released his lips from around Adam’s flushed cock. He straightened up to strip himself of his jacket, and then his shirt. Finally, Nigel reached for his own pants, sliding both them and his boxers down, revealing his own hard length. Adam's eyes widened slightly, his cock twitching at the sight.

“You’re thick. And uncircumcised.” Adam said bluntly.

Nigel let out a surprised chuckle at that. Nigel bent down once more, aligning their bodies, and took Adam's mouth in another deep kiss. Their cocks touched, sending a jolt of pleasure through both of them. Adam's skin was like silk under his fingertips, his tongue sucking Adam’s whimpers greedily into his own mouth.

Nigel worked his way down Adam's body, leaving a trail of wet kisses and gentle bites along the way. He paused, looking back up at Adam, whose face was flushed and hiding his eyes in the crook of his elbow.

“Would you rather be on your back or your stomach?”

“Why?” Adam softly retorted.

“Because I wanna eat you out, gorgeous.” Nigel nearly growled.

Adam whimpered at that. He slowly rolled onto his stomach, tucking his arms under his pillow and holding it close to his upper body. Nigel peppered kisses down Adam’s spine, starting at the nape of his neck. When he reached his destination, he parted Adam’s pert ass, taking in the beauty of Adam's tight, pink entrance.

He leaned in, his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive skin, causing Adam to squirm beneath him. Nigel's tongue traced the outer ring, teasing and tantalizing, each of Adam’s breathy moans and gasps causing pre-cum to bead at his tip. Adam tasted of the ground he walked on. Earthy musk and petunia sweet. He lapped at Adam’s hole, feeling the wrinkled flesh flutter beneath his tongue.

“N-Nigel… More.” Adam begged.

With a gentle push, Nigel's tongue breached the barrier with a low growl, the heat and wetness of his mouth sending shockwaves through Adam's body. He moaned into the pillow, his legs spreading wider to give Nigel better access.

Nigel's tongue delved deeper, exploring and savoring every inch of him. Adam's body trembled, his muscles tightening and releasing as he succumbed to the pleasure. Nigel’s tongue fucked in and out, spit coating Adam’s perineum and dribbling down to his balls. Adam’s moans were that of hushed prayers, quiet chants of “please” and “yes”.

When Adam began to whine and push back against Nigel’s tongue, Nigel knew Adam was ready for more. Nigel slowly pulled his tongue out of Adam’s pink hole with a soft squelch. “Lube?”

“Nightstand, top drawer.” Adam mumbled, burrowing his face further into his pillow.

Nigel reached over and opened the nightstand. Amongst the small bottle of lube, he found a variety of things. Most of the items were miscellaneous, but the three things that caught his eye were a dildo, a fleshlight, and a crumpled up photo of him and a woman he doesn’t recognize. He’ll bring the photo up at a later date.

“Have you ever done this before? I saw the toy in your drawer.” Nigel huskily chuckled.

Adam felt a lobster red flush coat his cheeks. “Only with the toy.”

Nigel bit back a groan as he popped the cap of the lube bottle open. “We’ll take this slow. Tell me to slow down or stop at any time, okay gorgeous?”

Adam nodded. Nigel coated his fingers, slowly sliding one in. Adam slightly tensed before relaxing, Nigel’s other hand coming up to soothingly rub Adam’s right cheek. Once he got down to the last knuckle, he started to slowly move his finger in and out. Adam let out little sighs.

He’s fingered himself numerous times before, so he expected this stage of prep to always feel a little strange, except Nigel’s fingers were bigger than his. Everything about Nigel was bigger than him. The very thought of that reality made him shiver.

After a couple of minutes, Nigel slid in a second finger alongside the first, Adam letting out a little hiss of air from the stretch. Nigel paused, his pointer and middle finger halfway inside Adam.

“Keep going.” Adam mumbled. Nigel nodded, even though Adam couldn’t see him, and pushed his two fingers all the way in before resuming his slow preparation. In, and out.

Nigel angled his fingers in a downward direction and heard Adam gasp. Nigel smirked to himself as he kept fingering Adam at that angle, picking up the pace a little. Nigel soaked in all of Adam’s staccato “ah’s”, basked in the light sheen of sweat beginning to coat Adam’s back.

“N-Nigel… So good… Third finger, please…”

Nigel happily complied, adding a third finger whilst still aiming for Adam’s prostate. Adam’s milky thighs started to tremble, his hips gyrating in an attempt to rub his cock on the mattress. Nigel’s other hand moved from Adam’s right cheek to his right hip, holding the boy down.

Adam let out a groan of frustration, looking back at Nigel over his shoulder. Nigel took notice and smirked up at Adam, deliberately pressing hard on his prostate before removing his fingers entirely.

“Condom?” Nigel asked.

“Don’t have any. Just pull out.” Adam answered, not attempting to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

Nigel nodded, squeezing more lube out of the bottle and coating his cock. “Do you want to stay on your stomach or another position, gorgeous?”

Adam was silent for a beat. “My back. It will be the most comfortable and… I want to see you.”

The significance of Adam asking to see Nigel wasn’t lost on him, a warm tingle infiltrating his chest at the request. Nigel gently took Adam by the hips and turned him onto his back. His calloused hands grabbed the undersides of Adam’s knees and lifted his legs before spreading them apart. Nigel’s breath stilled in his throat as he looked down at Adam spread out for him. A rosy pink flush has crept down to his chest, his stomach quivered and creamy thighs trembled.

If Nigel’s heart were to stop and his body keel over, this being the last sight for his eyes to see would be the biggest blessing imaginable.

Nigel positioned himself between Adam’s hips, the tip of his cock nudging at Adam's tight entrance. Adam nodded his explicit permission, his eyes filled with trust and lust. With a deep breath, Nigel slowly pushed in, inch by inch, feeling the tight, wet heat envelop him. Adam's eyes squeezed shut, his body tensing before he relaxed, his muscles accepting Nigel's intrusion.

Nigel bottomed out, his hair-dusted chest heaving. He let go of Adam’s legs to plant his elbows on either side of Adam’s head. Adam’s hands swooped under his knees to hold his legs apart as he stared up at Nigel. Eye contact is usually uncomfortable for him, making him want to crawl out of his skin, but with the soft and lustful look Nigel has in his eyes, his anxiety almost slips away entirely.

As if he read Nigel’s mind, Adam whispered with a small nod. “I’m ready.”

Nigel slowly retracted his hips until only the tip was in, Adam’s hole clenched around the bulbous head, making Nigel grunt, before slowly pushing back in. They moved together in a slow, rhythmic dance, their bodies fitting together as if they'd been made for this very moment. Nigel's thrusts grew deeper, more powerful, as he claimed Adam and his whole being.

Adam's moans grew louder, letting go of his legs and clinging on to Nigel’s back, his nails digging into the skin, urging him to go harder, faster. Despite Adam’s pleas, Nigel held back, savoring every moment of their intimacy.

“So tight, so fucking tight for me sweetheart,” Nigel groaned. He halted his thrusts to grab a pillow and positioned it under Adam’s hips. He thrusted his hips once more and was met with a surprised moan.

“Right there, Nigel.” Adam mewled out.

Nigel moaned in response and snapped his hips back and forth, his pace ruthless as the tip of his cock brushed Adam’s prostate relentlessly. Nigel bent down to crash his lips onto Adam’s, feeling the slightly chapped but plush flesh of his lips. His tongue carved along Adam’s bottom lip before biting it, causing Adam to let out a startled squeak.

Their kisses grew more fervent, their breaths mingling in a symphony of passion. Nigel's hand found its way to Adam's cock again, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Adam's hips arched up to meet him, their bodies moving as one.

The world outside the apartment faded away, leaving only the two of them in their own universe. To Nigel, nothing else mattered; It was just him and Adam, what he’s been dreaming about for the past month. Fantasies that led to moans heard by no one, tissues piling up at his bedside trash bin.

Adam felt the tightness in his own body build, the pressure mounting as he approached climax. “Nigel, I’m gonna come.”

“Come for me, dragostea mea.” Nigel nearly begged, his lips mouthing at Adam’s juncture between jaw and neck.

Adam’s climax ripped through him, leaving him mewling out Nigel’s name as he shot out white, hot spurts of come. Nigel’s head lifted to watch Adam succumb to his orgasm, the sight making his loins simmer with a sizzling heat. He took in Adam’s face squeezed up tight, a vein in his neck threatening to burst. His lips were bitten and plump, with a color akin to a pomegranate in late summer. Nigel fucked him right through his orgasm, leaving the boy shaking like a leaf.

Nigel soon felt the tension coiling tight within his belly, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Where do you want it, gorgeous?”

“Anywhere.” Adam breathlessly said, feeling too fucked out to direct Nigel to a certain place.

Nigel quickly pulled out and began to quickly stroke his cock. He shakily moved up to aim his tip at Adam’s face. Through the haze, Adam caught on and opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue and looked up at Nigel.

The sight alone made Nigel moan out a bunch of hushed curses and come hard. His body convulsed and his stomach twitched as he watched long ropes of come paint Adam’s lips, cheeks, and chin.

Nigel came down from his orgasm soon after, letting out breathy grunts as he tried to get his breathing back under control. Adam slowly licked his lips, tasting Nigel’s bitter and musky semen. His nose wrinkled slightly, and Nigel noticed.

“Not good, gorgeous?” Nigel breathlessly laughed out.

“I don’t know if semen could ever have a good taste.” Adam replied with a sheepish smile.

Nigel lifted Adam’s hand and planted a gentle kiss on the top, then ventured off to the bathroom. He came back to the bedroom with a warm washcloth and a cup of water. He took his time cleaning Adam first, making sure he was comfortable before handing Adam the cup of water. As Adam rehydrated, Nigel cleaned himself off. He disposed of the washcloth and climbed into bed beside Adam, turning off the bedside lamp.

Nigel looked up at the ceiling and noticed stars, planets and constellations twinkling. He secured Adam in a warm embrace, tucking his head onto his chest.

“I have an observatory night light. It’s similar to what we saw on our date earlier.” Adam murmured, combing his fingers through Nigel’s chest hair.

“I fucking love it. It’s very you.” Nigel replied softly.

“You don’t think it’s childish?”

“What? No, of course not.” Nigel responded, planting a gentle kiss on the top of Adam’s hair. He smelled of sandalwood, gardenia and sweat.

“Okay.” Is all Adam said in reply with a happy sigh. He nuzzled his nose into Nigel’s chest, his breathing becoming slower as the thump of Nigel’s heartbeat and the low buzz of his nightlight lulled him to sleep.

Chapter 6

Notes:

Longer chapter than usual. I was going to split it into two chapters originally, but I felt like it didn't flow as well.

Story will probably be complete a month from now. Thank you to everyone who has made it this far.

Enjoy!

The morning sunlight peeked through Adam's curtains, casting golden slits of light across the bedroom. Nigel stirred, blinking into the warmth and taking in the quiet room. Adam's back was turned to him, body curled slightly under the covers. He was still asleep, his curls a tousled halo on the pillow.

Nigel couldn't help but smile.

The memories of last night returned like a lulling tide. Soft touches, whispered words and the sweet musk of Adam's scent flooded his mind. It was intimate, not just in body but in the quiet way they’d clung to each other afterward, not rushing or retreating. Nigel felt like the luckiest man alive.

Adam stirred, a faint groan escaping him as his eyes fluttered open. He turned over and blinked at Nigel, momentarily confused.

“You're still here,” he murmured.

Nigel chuckled. “You said that the last fucking time.”

Adam rubbed his face. “Because I’m not used to it. But... I don't mind.”

Nigel reached over and brushed a stray curl from Adam's forehead. “Good, because I like waking up next to you, gorgeous.”

Adam let a sleepy smile curve his lips, but within moments, the shift happened. Adam sat up, stretching his lanky arms above his head, grimacing as his right shoulder popped. He swung his legs off the side of his bed, gathered some clothes, and walked to the bathroom.

Nigel knew Adam was off to the races, starting his typical morning routine. He admired it with quiet reverence. There was something beautiful in Adam’s structure, how he found calm in patterns and precision.

It reminded Nigel of how chaotic his own mornings tended to be—rolling out of bed late, grabbing whatever shirt smelled clean, and downing cold black coffee, which sometimes turned out to be day-old bourbon. Where Nigel was impulsive, Adam was deliberate.

Nigel shuffled out to the main area of the apartment, smoking a cigarette on the balcony before making a cup of coffee in the kitchen. He plopped himself down in a chair at the kitchen table, silently watching as Adam emerged from the bathroom at exactly 8:52AM.

Cereal was poured next, the clinking of the wheat scattering into the cereal bowl the only sound in the apartment apart from their collective soft breathing. Adam returned to the kitchen table with his cereal, glancing at Nigel, who had taken to watching him with a fond, quiet gaze.

“You're staring.” Adam stated.

“I know,” Nigel said. “You're just... fucking brilliant. I like seeing how you move through your morning. It says a lot about you.”

Adam blinked, a bit confused. “What do you mean?”

“I think it shows that you’re thoughtful. You know what you need and you build your world around it. That’s strength, not weakness.” Nigel explained.

“I know it's not weakness, but I don't think it's strength either.” Adam took another bite of cereal, his cheeks tinged with pink. “Most people would think it's weakness. Or stupid.”

“Well,” Nigel said, leaning forward, “I'm not most people, angel.”

They shared a look. That soft, sparking look.

“So,” Adam said, “We're boyfriends now, right?”

Nigel laughed, a surprised burst of joy. “That’s how this works, huh? A kiss and one date?”

“And good sex.” Adam added.

“And good sex. Right. Can’t forget that part.” Nigel smirked.

Adam was quiet for a moment. “It doesn’t feel too fast to you?” Adam asked.

Nigel thought about it, then shook his head. “No. It feels... like it was always heading this way.”

Adam nodded. “Okay. Boyfriends.”

Nigel grinned. “Official.”

After breakfast, they curled up on the couch for a bit, sharing a blanket while a nature documentary murmured on in the background. Nigel absentmindedly ran his fingers along Adam's knee while Adam scrolled through his phone, occasionally reading headlines aloud or grumbling about the latest black hole theories online that were clearly not plausible. They laughed softly, the kind of easy, domestic laughter that filled the quiet spaces with warmth. It wasn't dramatic or forced, it was peaceful.

Later in the morning, Adam brought up the subject of work.

“I have to dance tonight, It's Thursday,” he said. “I haven’t picked my outfit yet.”

“Wanna let me help?” Nigel offered.

Adam raised an eyebrow. “You want to help me pick my outfit?”

“I think it may become my new favorite hobby.”

Adam led him to his bedroom and to the closet, pulling open a double door that revealed a meticulously organized wardrobe. Racks of bodysuits, two pieces, skirts and shorts, heels, glittering accessories, and dramatic makeup palettes were arranged like an art installation. Nigel's eyes widened.

“This is incredible.”

“Thank you,” Adam said, stepping aside. “Performance is about precision, I got to keep my stuff organized. What do you think?”

Nigel carefully inspected the closet. His eyes landed on a porn DVD collection hidden away on the top shelf. He pretended not to notice. As he gently swiped through the hangers of clothing, an outfit caught his attention.

He held up a violet vinyl corset with a matching pleated skirt, each piece detailed with thin silver piping that shimmered like starlight. Thigh-high fishnet stockings with rhinestone embellishments, a choker adorned with a dangling star pendant, and knee-high platform boots completed the look. It was sultry, daring, and dripping with theatrical flair.

“That’s hot,” Nigel said crudely.

Adam cocked his head. “Is that the one you're choosing?”

“Don’t know if I want other people seeing you in this, darling.”

“Then don’t choose it.” Adam’s brows furrowed.

A beat of silence passed between them before Nigel replied, “I’ll let you fucking wear it. You’re coming home with me anyways.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The club buzzed with life by sundown. Catifea’s lights pulsed in time with the bass, and the air was rich with perfume, sweat, and liquor. Nigel stood in the shadow of the left corner booth, arms crossed, watching the stage.

Auriga stepped into the spotlight.

Auriga wore the outfit Nigel picked out for him alongside a crown of star pins scattered through his curls. The crowd roared. The music swelled. Auriga moved. Adam moved.

Nigel could barely breathe.

The way Auriga danced was beyond erotic. It was graceful, deliberate, magnetic. Every step a seduction, an invitation scarcely declined. Nigel’s lipped parted to find his mouth dry, his heart thudding in his chest. He watched Auriga crawl onto all fours, teasingly shaking his pert ass. Nigel swore he saw it jiggle. His cock twitched with interest in his jeans.

He noticed the others watching Adam—Auriga. How they leaned in, hungry, hands full of cash. He didn’t blame them. But something primal stirred in him. Possessive.

Mine, he thought.

Still, he kept it cool. He remained professional, but inside, he was undone.

After the show, Adam emerged from backstage, still in his heels and bodysuit, cheeks flushed from exertion. He found Nigel leaning against the hallway wall.

“Did you like it?” Adam asked.

“Fucking incredible. You’re going to fucking ruin me, gorgeous.” Nigel replied.

Adam grinned.

Nigel handed him a bottle of water and a towel. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

They walked out together, through the back, the night air cool and quiet. Nigel led Adam to the motorcycle parked under the streetlamp.

Adam froze.

His eyes locked onto the motorcycle as if it were some kind of alien creature. His heart skipped a beat, and then another. The noise, the imbalance, the sheer exposure to the open air—every part of his brain screamed that this was not safe, not structured, not predictable. It was everything he usually avoided.

Nigel must have sensed it, because he turned, expression softening immediately. “You alright?”

“I’ve never been on a motorcycle.” Adam confessed.

Nigel held back a frown. "I’ll go slow."

Adam swallowed. “It’s just... new. And fast. And very loud.”

“We don’t have to. I can call a cab.”

Adam looked at him, then at the bike, then back.

“No. I want to try.”

"Are you sure?" Nigel asked, concern tinging his tone.

“I'm sure, Nigel. I don't lie.” Adam reminded.

Nigel smiled, handing Adam his helmet. “Here.”

“What about your helmet?” Adam twisted his mouth to one side.

“I'll be fine.” Nigel reassured.

Adam’s mouth opened to retort only to find it closed again. Hesitantly, Adam nodded. With guidance, Adam climbed on, wrapping his arms tight around Nigel’s waist.

“Ready?” Nigel asked.

Adam nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

They took off.

The streets blurred by, but Nigel kept his promise, weaving through the streets of Manhattan slow and careful. Adam squeezed him tightly at first, face buried in Nigel’s back. But as the ride continued, his grip loosened. His face lifted.

Adam looked around, his wide eyes drinking in the towering glass buildings glinting in the moonlight, the surrounding cars' headlights casting brilliant colors over puddles on the asphalt. The wind tugged gently at his curls, and he could smell hot pretzels from a distant cart and the faint tang of city rain on pavement.

The chaos of Manhattan at night should have overwhelmed him, but instead it made his heart race in the best way. It was like flying, and Nigel was the anchor holding him steady.

By the time they pulled up in front of his apartment, Adam was grinning.

“That was... fun.” Adam said, his cherubic features flushed from the wind.

Nigel glanced back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think I like it.” Adam concluded.

Nigel squeezed Adam’s hands that were wrapped around his front. “Told you I’d keep you safe, darling.”

They climbed off the bike. Adam leaned into him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“You did.”

Nigel smiled, his heart singing.

Adam unlocked the front door of his apartment building and climbed up the stairs. Nigel followed behind him, his gaze glued to the gentle sway of Adam's hips with every step. When they reached the apartment, Adam turned to say goodnight, but Nigel hesitated.

“Can I stay the night?” he asked, voice low, eyes scanning Adam's face for a reaction.

Adam blinked. “You want to stay again?”

Nigel stepped closer. “I told you that you were coming home with me. That also means staying the night. You're too fucking irresistible, gorgeous.”

There was a flicker of surprise in Adam's expression, but then a pleased smile spread across his lips. He stepped aside and opened the door to his apartment wider.

“Alright,” he said. “Stay.”

The door clicked shut behind them, and the quiet of Adam's apartment settled like a soft blanket over their shoulders. The thrum of the city was dulled by the thick walls, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Adam turned to switch on the soft lamp in the corner, casting the room in a warm, amber glow.

Nigel dropped his keys and smokes on the entryway table and leaned against the wall, watching Adam with a look that was somewhere between reverence and hunger. Adam stepped out of his boots, shaking out his legs with a small sigh of relief, his violet vinyl corset catching the light as he moved.

“I’m going to change,” Adam said, already turning toward the bedroom.

“Wait,” Nigel said quickly, his voice a bit more hoarse than he intended. Adam paused and looked back, his expression unreadable. “Just... stay in it. For a little bit.”

Adam blinked, unsure. “Why?”

Nigel pushed off the wall and walked toward him slowly. "Because you look fucking incredible. And I want to admire you for a while longer."

Adam hesitated, then tilted his head slightly, as if trying to decode Nigel's expression, but he didn’t argue. He nodded once and walked to the couch instead, perching on the edge. Nigel followed, his eyes roaming up and down Adam’s form with open admiration.

“I’ve seen you perform before, but it’s different up close,” Nigel murmured, sitting beside him. “You’re not just sexy, you’re art. The way you carry yourself, the way that fucking outfit hugs you... it’s mesmerizing. You turn me on, angel.”

Adam shifted slightly, pink coloring his cheeks. “It’s just an outfit.”

“No, it’s you in the outfit. That’s the difference.”

Nigel reached out and brushed his fingers along Adam’s exposed thigh, just above the fishnets. It was a soft, almost reverent touch. Adam didn’t flinch. Instead, he looked down at where Nigel’s hand rested and then back up, his expression softened by curiosity and something else.

They sat there for a moment, quiet. Nigel’s gaze wandered from Adam’s cheekbones to the faint shimmer of glitter still dusting his collarbone. Every detail felt delicate and striking. He wanted to commit all of it to memory.

“You’re really staying again?” Adam asked quietly.

Nigel nodded. "I meant what I said. You're too fucking irresistible. And beyond that... I feel calmer around you. It’s rare for me."

Adam looked down at his hands. "You’re calm? Around me?"

“Yeah. And when I’m not calm, it’s because I’m thinking too much about how badly I want to touch you, or kiss you, or fuck you, or keep you safe from the entire goddamn world.”

Adam didn’t respond immediately, but the look in his eyes said everything. He slowly leaned his head against Nigel’s shoulder, letting out a sigh that sounded like quiet contentment.

They sat like that for a while, the city humming far below them. Nigel, with his arm around Adam in his shimmering costume, felt like he had found something that finally made the chaos of his life make sense.

The silence stretched out between them, charged with anticipation, as Nigel's hand began to trace the contours of Adam's corset, his fingertips dancing along the seams of the vinyl. Adam's breath grew shallow, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into the touch. He felt Nigel's warmth beside him, his solid presence both comforting and electrifying.

The gentle pressure of Nigel's hand grew bolder, moving up to cup Adam's chin and tilt his face towards him. Their eyes met, and the connection was palpable. Nigel leaned in, capturing Adam's lips in a slow, tender kiss that made his heart flutter. Adam's arms wrapped around Nigel's neck, his hands threading through his hair as he returned the kiss.

Nigel's hands slid down to the small of Adam's back, pulling him closer. He could feel the heat radiating from Adam's body, the fabric of his corset pressing against his own chest. He broke the kiss, his eyes smoldering as he whispered, “I want to fuck you, gorgeous.”

Adam's eyes searched Nigel's face for a moment. He nodded, his voice barely a whisper, “Okay.”

Nigel's hands moved to the zipper at the back of the corset, his fingers deftly working it down. The fabric parted to reveal Adam's smooth, pale skin. He pulled the corset away, letting it fall to the floor. He unzipped the skirt next, revealing Adam’s milky thighs threatening to spill over his fishnets and his cock twitching beneath his black lacy boyshorts.

Adam's chest rose and fell with his quickened breaths, his nipples stiffening with the cool air of the room. Nigel took in the sight, his mouth watering with desire. He leaned in and kissed one pebbled peak, his tongue swirling around it before moving to the other. Adam moaned softly, his body arching into the sensation. Nigel took his time, savoring the taste of him, the feel of his skin beneath his lips. Nigel's cock grew harder against the fabric of his jeans as he felt Adam's body react to his touch.

“Feel good, baby?” Nigel asked, his voice low and soothing.

Adam nodded, his eyes never leaving Nigel's face. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice shaky.

Nigel stood from the couch and took a step back, taking in the sight of Adam sitting before him. He reached out and motioned for Adam to lift his hips. He complied and Nigel slid his thumbs under the waistband, hooking them and pulling the underwear down. Adam's cock sprang free, bobbing slightly with his rapid heartbeat. Nigel took a moment to admire him, the soft curve of his hips, the smooth expanse of his stomach.

“You're beautiful,” Nigel said, his voice thick with want.

Adam felt his cheeks flush, a shy smile playing on his lips. Nigel stepped closer, his hand wrapping around Adam's erection. He stroked him slowly, watching his reaction with hooded eyes. Adam's breath grew ragged, his hips moving in time with Nigel's hand. He leaned into the touch, his body begging for more.

“Is this what you want, baby?” Nigel asked, his voice a gentle rumble.

“Yes,” Adam breathed. “More.”

Nigel's grip tightened slightly, his strokes becoming more deliberate. He leaned down and kissed him again, their tongues sliding together as he worked him over. Adam's moans grew louder, his hands grabbing at Nigel's shirt.

“Take it off,” Adam whispered against his lips, desperation lacing his voice.

“Where are your manners, naughty boy?” Nigel chastised lightheartedly. Despite the comment, Nigel complied, his shirt joining the pile of discarded clothing on the floor. Adam's hands roamed over the firm planes of his chest, his nails scraping lightly against the skin. Nigel's stomach tightened in response, and he couldn’t help but moan into Adam's mouth.

They broke the kiss, panting, and Adam dropped to his knees. He looked up at Nigel, his eyes wide with excitement and a hint of nervousness. “Can I give you a blowjob?”

Nigel swore he could feel his heart stop in that moment, the blood flowing up to his brain coming to a halt for a split second. He blinked a couple of times, feeling like he could spill over just from hearing Adam, his Adam, ask to blow him.

“Have you ever given head before, angel?” Nigel managed to choke out after a breath.

“No.” Adam meekly mumbled. Nigel nearly growled.

Nigel steadied himself on his feet, allowing Adam to unzip his jeans and fish out his cock. It stood tall and proud before Adam, a pearl of pre-cum beading at the flushed tip. Adam reached out and touched it tentatively, his fingertips brushing the velvety skin. It was warm and firm, and he marveled at the feel of it in his hand.

“Go slow, gorgeous,” Nigel instructed, his voice gentle. “Take your time.”

Adam nodded. He leaned in and peppered kisses on the head before exploring the length of Nigel’s cock with his tongue. Nigel let out an appreciative grunt, his eyes drinking in the sight of Adam mouth all over his cock. The tip of Adam’s tongue teased under the foreskin before taking Nigel's cock into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the head.

Nigel hissed, his hips jerking slightly. Adam took it as a good sign and continued, taking more of him in, his mouth stretching around the girth. Nigel's hand found its way to the back of Adam's head, guiding him deeper. Adam took the cue and began to bob his head, his cheeks hollowing with the effort.

Nigel groaned, his hand tightening in Adam's hair. He watched as Adam's lips slid up and down his shaft, the sight of his cock disappearing into that warm, welcoming mouth making him dizzy with lust. He pushed in deeper, feeling Adam's throat constrict around him. Adam gagged slightly, his eyes watering, but he didn’t stop. He took a deep breath and tried again, focusing on the sensations, the taste, the way Nigel's cock felt in his mouth.

“Fuck, you're a natural,” Nigel said, his voice strained. “So fucking good for me darling. Such a good boy.”

Encouraged, Adam took Nigel in deeper, his hand joining his mouth to stroke the base of his shaft. He felt Nigel's thighs tense and knew he was close. He increased his pace, his tongue working the sensitive network of nerves just below the head. Nigel's breathing grew ragged, his hips moving in time with Adam's rhythm.

“I'm gonna come, baby.” Nigel warned, his voice tight.

Adam nodded, his eyes still locked on Nigel above him. He wanted to feel Nigel's release in his mouth. Nigel's body tensed, and with a low groan, he came, filling Adam's mouth with hot, bitter cum. Adam swallowed, his teary eyes never leaving Nigel's face.

Nigel's legs trembled, and he stepped back, his cock slipping out of Adam's mouth with a wet pop. He reached down and pulled Adam to his feet, kissing him deeply, sharing the taste of himself.

“That was incredible,” Nigel murmured, his calloused hand caressing Adam's cheek. “So fucking good for me.”

They shared a moment of quiet, their bodies still humming with desire. Nigel took a step back, his gaze never leaving Adam's. “Now, it's my turn to make you feel good.”

He led Adam to the bedroom, his hand warm and steady on the small of his back. The bed was unmade, the comforter thrown haphazardly over the mattress. It was a stark contrast to the pristine living room, but it felt right somehow, a reflection of the raw passion that was about to unfold between them.

Nigel pushed Adam onto the bed, his body following. He kissed him again, deep and hungry, as his hand slid down to cup his ass. Adam moaned into the kiss, his legs spreading open for Nigel. Nigel's fingers found his hole, pressing gently. Adam's body tensed for a moment until Nigel removed his hand.

Nigel reached into the nightstand drawer, pulling out the bottle of lube. He paused, looking at the same dildo he saw the night before.

“Can I use your dildo on you?” Nigel blurted.

“What?”

“I wanna fuck you with it, gorgeous.” Nigel bit back a groan at the thought.

Adam nodded, letting a breathy whimper escape his lips. Nigel squeezed lube onto his fingers and slid two of them inside Adam, working him open. Adam's breath hitched with every movement, his body responding to the intrusion. Nigel was careful, his movements slow and deliberate, making sure Adam was ready for him.

“You're going to feel so fucking good,” Nigel murmured, his voice soothing.

Adam nodded, his body aching for more. Nigel leaned over and kissed him again, his tongue delving into Adam's mouth as he continued to prep him. When Nigel felt that Adam was ready, he pulled his fingers out and grabbed the dildo. He positioned the toy at Adam’s tight entrance. He took a deep breath and pushed in, watching the tight ring of muscle give way.

Adam's eyes flew open, a gasp escaping his lips. It burned a little at first, but the pain quickly gave way to a feeling of pressurized fullness. Nigel paused, giving Adam a moment to adjust.

“Okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“Yeah,” Adam managed, his breath coming in pants.

Nigel pushed the toy in deeper, filling him completely. Adam's nails dug into the comforter, his body arching off the bed. Nigel began to move the toy, his strokes slow and measured. Adam's eyes squeezed shut as he felt himself being stretched, the curved tip of the toy brushing against his prostate.

“You're taking it so well,” Nigel groaned, his spent cock agreeing with a weak twitch of interest. “Like you were made to take cock.”

Adam could only whimper in response, his body writhing on the bed. He felt the dildo repeatedly hit that spot deep inside him that made him see stars, and he knew he was going to come.

“I'm already going to come… oh, Nigel,” he gasped, his body tightening.

Nigel leaned down and kissed him, swallowing the sounds of Adam's pleasure. He picked up the pace, his hand fucking the toy into Adam with more urgency. Nigel’s other hand wrapped around Adam’s weeping cock, sloppily jerking him off. Adam's hands found Nigel's chest, his nails roughly combing through the hair.

“Come for me,” Nigel growled, his voice deep and demanding. Before he could stop himself, he let it slip. “Come for daddy.”

As soon as the word ‘daddy’ left Nigel’s lips, Adam's body obeyed. His orgasm ripped through him like lightning, every nerve ending throughout his body felt like it was lit ablaze. He cried out and mewled, his cock dribbling come onto his stomach, his ass clamping down around the dildo.

Adam laid there, panting and sweaty, his heart racing. Nigel collapsed onto the bed beside him, pulling Adam close to his chest. They lay there for a moment, their bodies tangled together, the only sound in the room their heavy breathing.

“That was…” Adam started, unable to find the right words, his mind hazy like frosted glass.

“Yeah,” Nigel said, his voice gruff. “It was.”

They laid there for a while longer, their bodies cooling, their hearts slowing. Eventually, Nigel stood up and cleaned both he and Adam up. He pulled the comforter over them, tucking Adam into his side. He kissed the top of his head, feeling a sense of peace wash over him.

“You called yourself daddy.” Adam commented.

Nigel felt his face flush, looking down at the top of Adam’s head. “Are you fine with that? It slipped out in the heat of the moment, gorgeous.”

Adam didn’t respond verbally, only hid his face in Nigel’s chest and nodded.

Nigel could feel his ego start to inflate just a little bit, but soon pushed it down. “Noted.”

Adam looked up at him, his eyes glazed with fondness and fatigue. “Goodnight, Nigel.” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Nigel hummed, his arm tightening around him. “Goodnight, angel.”

Chapter 7

Notes:

I regret to inform you that the ao3 curse is real. I got into my first car accident a few days ago, totaling my car. Thankfully, no one involved was injured.

Since then, I've spent my time writing to try to take my mind off of it. Hope you enjoy and stay safe everyone!

A couple of months passed, and the rhythm of Nigel and Adam’s relationship settled into something warm and familiar. They sometimes shared late mornings tangled in bedsheets, frequent dates to quiet bookstores and Central Park, the steady cadence of stripping shifts at Catifea, and nights that, more often than not, ended in passionate, unhurried lovemaking.

The club had flourished in the past weeks, with Adam becoming something of a phenomenon under the shimmering lights as Auriga. He had become a fan favorite amongst some of the regulars, coining him ‘The Fallen Star’— a nickname that Adam did not appreciate solely because of its scientific inaccuracy.

Nigel had laughed when Adam informed him, even as the familiar buzz of jealousy brewed deep in his gut. He offered to tell the regulars to knock it off with the nickname stuff, to which Adam declined, concluding that it was “probably good for business.”

A Tuesday night rolled around, cool and breezy as fall weather started to creep into the city. Adam was in his apartment, sitting cross-legged on the couch in one of Nigel’s oversized T-shirts, his laptop open on the coffee table as he sorted through budgeting spreadsheets. Nigel was stretched out next to him, scrolling through his phone with one arm tucked behind his head.

Adam broke the silence first. “My rent is going to go up.”

Nigel glanced up. “How much?”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars.” Adam's voice was flat, his eyes glued to the screen. “Starting next month.”

Nigel frowned. “Shit, gorgeous. That's not small.”

Adam nodded. “Yeah. I've been doing the math and... well, I can’t afford it. I don't want to have a second job. Or a new one. I think I need to start offering private dances at the club. Just a couple per shift. I think it could help make up the difference.”

Nigel stiffened. He sat up, closing the space between them. “No.”

Adam blinked. “What?”

“I said no. Absolutely fucking not.” Nigel reiterated.

“Why?”

Nigel dodged the question. “I'll give you a raise, or help you pay the bills.”

“No Nigel, that's not fair.” Adam refused.

“You are not doing private dances at Catifea.” The tone in Nigel’s voice was firm, almost panicked.

“If you’re worried that customers are gonna harm me due to finding out I’m not a woman, Bella told me that the regulars have figured it out by now.” Adam commented flatly.

“It’s not that, Adam. You are not doing private dances. End of fucking discussion.” Nigel emphasized his last sentence, making it clear that he wanted to drop this conversation.

Adam did not pick up on this. Instead, he tilted his head, trying to make sense of the reaction. “Nigel, it’s not a big deal. It’s part of the job for the rest of the girls. I’d set boundaries. You know that.”

“I don’t give a shit about boundaries,” Nigel snapped. “I don’t want other people touching you. Or looking at you like that in private.”

Adam frowned. “But I perform on stage. People already look. That doesn’t bother you?”

“That’s different. It’s public. This is... intimate.”

Adam chewed on the inside of his cheek. “It’s not intimate to me. It’s work. It’s just dancing.”

“Not to them, it isn’t. And not to me, either.” Nigel grunted.

Adam leaned back, his mouth tight. “This isn’t about them, Nigel. I don't want to lose my apartment.” Adam paused, his brows furrowing. “Are you jealous?”

Nigel didn’t deny it. Instead, his jaw flexed. “I don’t want to share you.”

Adam folded his arms. “I can make my own decisions, Nigel. You don't need to keep me hidden.”

Something shifted in Nigel’s eyes—a flicker of defensiveness, followed by something sharper. Nigel stood abruptly and crossed the room, putting distance between them. He could feel heat bubbling up in his gut.

“You know what? Maybe I’m not the only fucking one who wants to keep things hidden,” he said, his voice suddenly colder. "Like that fucking photo in your bedside drawer. You and that fucking girl.”

Adam’s head whipped up, his face a look of genuine confusion. “What?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. A picture of you with some girl. Smiling and your fucking arm wrapped around her. Why is that still in your fucking drawer?” Nigel scowled, looking out the window but not seeing.

“That has nothing to do with this,” Adam objected.

“Doesn’t it?” Nigel snapped. “You keep a fucking photo of her and won't even tell me who the fuck she is. How is that not relevant? If you're gonna hide someone from me, I'm gonna fucking hide you.”

“You're confusing me, Nigel.” Adam mumbled.

“Are you gonna fucking leave me too?” Nigel snarled with a pointed finger, the insecurity of Gabi leaving him bursting to the surface. His voice cracked slightly, betraying the pain he was still carrying. He didn’t want to lose again. Not like that. Not when Adam had already embedded himself so deeply in his life in a short amount of time.

The living room fell deadly silent, apart from their combined heavy breaths. Nigel’s throat felt tight, his heart racing as the words he’d just spoken echoed in his ears. He hadn’t meant to say it, at least, not like that, but it had slipped out with all the venom of his buried fears. Deep down, his insecurity clawed at him, the old ache of Gabi leaving him for another man resurfacing with cruel clarity. He wasn’t just angry, he was terrified; Terrified that Adam might leave him too.

Adam stood now too, his hands clenching at his sides. His breath started to hitch in that uneven way that Nigel had come to recognize.

“I’m not gonna leave you, Nigel. Stop it.” Adam said, barely above a whisper.

Nigel stepped forward, his voice harsh. “Just tell me the truth, are you still in love with her?”

Adam backed up a step, his pupils wide now. “What? No! That photo is from a year ago. I forgot it was even there. This conversation has nothing to do with her.”

“You kept a crumpled photo of you holding some random fucking whore in your drawer next to your bed. Forgive me for thinking that might fucking mean something.” Nigel emphasized his point by slamming his fist against the wall. The framed photos on the wall shook. The photograph of younger Adam and his dad threatened to fall.

Adam pressed his palms against the sides of his head. He felt the tension swelling in his chest, everything too loud, too sharp. His breath came in shallow bursts, the edges of the room starting to blur.

“I want you to leave.”

“Adam—”

“I said leave, Nigel!” Adam shrieked.

There was a pause. Nigel’s eyes widened, shocked into stillness. Adam had never raised his voice like that before.

Adam turned away, his back rigid and his hands fisted in his curls. “Please. Just go.”

Nigel hesitated, but the damage had already been done. He grabbed his jacket in silence and walked to the door, glancing back once at Adam's trembling form.

Then he left.

The door closed behind him with a click that sounded too final.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Nigel sat on his motorcycle for a long while, the engine off, helmet dangling from his hand. His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. He stared up at Adam’s apartment windows. The light was still on, and he swore he could hear Adam’s cries echoing in his skull like church bells. Nigel’s fists tightened around the handlebars.

He hadn’t meant to explode like that. He hadn’t meant to let Gabi’s ghost possess him, or let one fucking photo mean more than it should, but he had. He let his jealousy and fear twist everything, and now Adam was inside, possibly, and in his mind probably, hating him.

Fuming at himself, he sped off into the night, the city lights a blur around him. He didn’t go home. Instead, he found himself parking in front of Catifea.

The club was closed to the public, but the door was unlocked. Inside, the lights were dimmed, the stage unlit, but soft music played from the back room. Bella was stretching on the main floor in a ribbed tank top and leggings, her legs lifted high in an elegant arc.

She looked up immediately. “Nigel?”

He stood frozen in the doorway, still wearing the expression of someone trying not to crack. Bella half-expected Nigel to bark at her for keeping the door unlocked, but instead Nigel said nothing. Bella dropped her leg and jogged over, concern etched into her face.

“Jesus, you look like dogshit. What happened?” Bella mumbled.

“Nothing.” Nigel grumbled, throwing his jacket and helmet into a booth by the door.

Bella crossed her arms. “It doesn't look like nothing.”

Nigel exhaled slowly. “Adam and I... we had a stupid fucking fight.”

Bella didn’t say anything for a moment. She grabbed a bottle of beer and handed it to him, motioning for him to sit at the bar.

“What kind of fight?”

Nigel took the bottle and cracked it open, taking a long swig. His voice was low. “He wants to start doing private dances here. To help with rent. I said no. I got jealous. Then I—” He hesitated. “I brought up some fucking photo I found in his drawer. Of him and a girl. It just came out. I accused him of still being into her. I... I fucking yelled at him. And nearly slammed my fucking fist through the living room drywall.”

Bella stared at him, then sighed, sitting beside him. “So... you picked a fight because you got scared.”

Nigel looked at her, defensive. “No, I—”

“Yes, you did.” Bella softened her tone. “I get it. You’ve been through shit. But Adam isn’t her. He’s... different.”

Nigel let his head fall into his hands. “I know. Fuck, I know. But I keep thinking he’s going to leave me too. And that photo, it just messed with my head. Pisses me off that someone else made him smile like that.”

Bella nudged him. “You love him, don't you?”

Nigel was quiet for a moment, his fingers absently rubbing at his jaw. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I really fucking do.”

“Then go fix it,” she said, voice soft but firm. “Apologize. Talk to him like a fucking grown-up. Let him do what he needs to do, and trust that he loves you back.”

Nigel let out a hollow laugh. “You think it’s that fucking easy?”

“No,” Bella said, turning to face him. “I think it’s hard as hell. Relationships are hard. Especially for someone like you.”

He shot her a look. “What the fuck do you mean someone like me?”

“Well,” she said, leaning forward and crossing her arms on the bar countertop. “You're possessive. Hot-headed. You love so hard it burns you up and gives you tunnel vision, and if you don’t start getting a handle on that, you’re gonna lose him. You think Adam can deal with that bullshit every time he wants to make a decision for himself?”

Nigel clenched his jaw. “I’m not trying to control him.”

“Yes you are. You’re scared and a control freak. I get it. Gabi left you to rot, and now your brain’s convinced Adam will too, but you can’t project that onto him. You either trust him, or you’ll push him away trying to cage him.”

Nigel rubbed his eyes. “He looked at me like I was… fuckin’ evil or something. I... I hated that.”

“Then do better,” Bella said gently. “You’re not a villain, Nigel. But you need to stop acting like everyone’s gonna betray you before they even get the chance.”

He leaned back against the bar, sighing hard. “I didn’t mean to bring up that stupid photo. It just… it felt like he was slipping away. Like I was losing him in real time.”

“You didn’t lose him,” she said. “Not yet. But next time you let your temper fly like that? You might.”

Nigel stared at the dim stage, a deep, pained silence stretching between them. The echo of his own voice shouting still rang in his ears.

“I hate this part,” he muttered.

Bella smiled sympathetically. “Then do something about it.”

Chapter 8

The next morning, the sky was a soft silver. Clouds hung like quiet witnesses over the Manhattan skyline. Nigel sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, thumb hovering over Adam's contact. His stomach churned. He’d barely slept, the weight of last night’s argument with Adam replaying again and again in his mind like some cruel loop. His head throbbed with a heady mixture of guilt and binge-induced hangover.

Finally, he forced himself to send the message.

Can I come over, baby? I need to apologize.

The reply came within a minute.

Yes.

Nigel didn’t waste time. He arrived at Adam’s apartment thirty minutes later, a bouquet of sunflowers clutched awkwardly in one hand. “Adam opened the door wearing soft gray sweatpants and a washed-out blue hoodie, his expression unreadable.

“Hey angel,” Nigel said, voice low. “Can I come in?”

Adam nodded and stepped aside. Nigel followed him in, the familiar scent of Adam’s apartment wrapping around him like a balm. They moved into the living room, and Nigel set the flowers on the coffee table.

“They reminded me of you,” he said. “Bright. Gorgeous. Smells nice.”

Adam cracked a faint smile, but his arms stayed crossed. Nigel took a breath.

“I fucked up,” he said. “Last night. I let my jealousy run rampant, and I said things I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry, Adam. Truly. You didn’t fucking deserve that.”

Adam looked at him carefully. “You hurt my feelings, Nigel.”

“I know, darling.”

“And I forgave you the second you walked in,” Adam said, voice quiet.

Nigel opened his mouth to give his excessive thank yous, the urge to fall to his knees and kiss Adam’s feet and the ground he walks on with gratitude overwhelming him, but Adam continued. "But you need to understand something, Nigel. I’ve gone out of my comfort zone for you. I join you and our coworkers for afterwork drinks sometimes, even if all I want to do is sleep. I've let you into my space and my routines day after day. That takes energy for me.”

Nigel’s chest ached. “I know it does. And I appreciate every damn thing you’ve done.”

“You need to go out of your comfort zone for me,” Adam said. “Let me make my own choices. Let me do private shows. I’m not doing it because I want to dance for other people. I’m doing it because I have to. I can't lose my apartment, Nigel.”

Nigel's heart nearly snapped in half listening to Adam's voice crack on the final sentence. He sat down on the couch slowly, nodding. “I want to say yes, and I fucking mean it when I do. But it’s hard for me, Adam. The idea of anyone else having a moment that intimate with you fucking guts me.”

“I’m not asking you to be okay with it right now,” Adam said gently, sitting beside him. “But I need you to try, please.”

Nigel reached for his hand. “Then I’ll try. Because I love you so fucking much, angel.”

Adam let Nigel take his hand, his eyes softening as Nigel gently squeezed it. He leaned in and kissed him, gentle and slow.

They ended up curled together on the couch, Adam resting against Nigel’s chest. Silence settled comfortably between them, broken only by the soft hum of traffic outside and the occasional creak of the building settling.

Nigel’s arms encircled Adam more tightly, his cheek pressed against Adam’s hair. The scent of Adam’s shampoo filled his senses, the scent clean and light. He found himself breathing easier, like the air was finally safe to inhale again.

He glanced down at the man nestled against him, heart aching with both love and remorse. Adam’s fingers absently traced small shapes against Nigel’s chest, muttering something to himself, almost as if he's reciting a script. That simple, unconscious act of trust made Nigel feel like the luckiest man alive.

The warmth between them grounded both he and Adam. Nigel fully realized that he almost lost this. He’d almost let his fear and shitty behavior take the one good thing in his life away. But here they were, hearts still beating in tandem.

Nigel pressed a kiss to the crown of Adam’s head, silently promising himself to do better. To be better. To try, like Adam asked.

“Do you want to know about the photo?” Adam asked suddenly. “I feel as if telling you is the right thing to do.”

Nigel tensed, then nodded. “Only if you want to tell me, baby.”

Adam exhaled. “Her name’s Beth. She used to live in this building. We met in the laundry room, actually. She asked if she could use some of my detergent. We started dating.”

Nigel listened, brow furrowed in half-feigned concentration, but his chest stirred with something volatile. The mention of Beth's name flared a sharp flare of jealousy. Nigel breathed through it, focusing instead on listening to Adam, anchoring himself in the present moment.

“It fell apart after a couple of months,” Adam continued. “She got frustrated with my routines. My need for structure. She told me I was selfish. That my autism made me hard to love.”

Nigel sat up straighter, fury flashing behind his eyes. “She said that to you?”

Adam’s voice cracked. “Yeah. During the breakup. I kept the photo for a while because... I don’t know. I guess I wanted to prove to myself that someone liked me once. Even if it ended badly. I forgot it was still in the drawer.”

Nigel cupped his face gently. “Adam, she was fucking cruel. She didn’t understand you, but I do. I’m never going to make you feel broken for who you are. You’re the smartest, most gorgeous, most thoughtful man I’ve ever met.”

Adam blinked back tears. Nigel pulled him into a tight hug.

“Fuck her,” Nigel muttered. “You’re not hard to love.”

They stayed like that for a while, their embrace locked in quiet reassurance. Adam’s head rested against Nigel’s chest, and Nigel wrapped his arms around him tightly, protectively. He could feel Adam’s heartbeat slowing, steadying beneath the touch of his hand. Nigel's mind burned with fury toward Beth, utterly flabbergasted that anyone could have looked at someone as thoughtful and genuine as Adam and dared to call him selfish. The idea of Adam carrying that hurt around for so long without telling anyone made Nigel's chest ache with helpless rage.

He kissed the top of Adam's head again, holding him closer, as if to shield him from every cruel word ever spoken. Adam shifted slightly in his arms, sighing softly, and Nigel knew he would fight like hell to make sure no one ever made Adam feel that small again.

“I’m hungry,” Adam said quietly.

“I can cook,” Nigel offered.

“Chicken and broccoli?” Adam suggested.

“You read my mind.”

They moved to the kitchen and made lunch together, a quiet choreography of chopping and stirring. Nigel snuck a few kisses here and there, planting them on Adam’s cheeks, nose and forehead. He claimed he was having dessert before his meal. Adam flashed a toothy grin when he finally understood.

Once finished, they ate on the couch, knees brushing. Adam infodumped about the newest discoveries made about dark matter between bites, elaborating further on the air of mystery surrounding the subject. Nigel nodded along, pretending to understand but nevertheless engaged, finding his eyes repeatedly gazing at Adam’s plush lips as he spoke and chewed.

“Nigel,” Adam said after they both finished. “Can I practice my private dance routine on you please?”

Nigel froze for a second before a smirk slowly graced his feature. “You already have something planned?”

Adam nodded. “I believe so, yes.”

“I’m all yours, gorgeous.” Nigel purred, setting his plate aside.

Adam jerked his head and stood, clearing both he and Nigel's dishes. He grabbed his phone, hooked it up to his speaker, and put on a song with a slow, sensual beat. Adam turned to Nigel, eyes focused.

His hips moved with precision, each sway purposeful yet soft. Nigel’s breath caught as Adam used the limited space of the living room like a stage, his gaze never leaving Nigel’s. He pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing a tight tank that clung to his lean frame. He rolled his shoulders, letting the music guide his steps as he circled the coffee table, dragging a finger slowly along his collarbones before turning his back to Nigel and looking over his shoulder.

Adam slid a hand down his side, then across the front of his thigh, movements slow and teasing. Every beat of the music pulsed through his body, his rhythm seductive and sweet. Nigel swallowed hard.

Adam climbed into his lap smoothly, straddling him with a charming awkwardness due to the confines of the couch. He leaned forward, chest brushing Nigel’s as he ground his hips slowly, pressing in with each roll like a wave. Nigel bit back a grunt, feeling blood slowly fill his cock.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, baby,” Nigel murmured, his hands gripping Adam's waist instinctively, fingers digging into the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

“You're the customer, no touching.” Adam said, swatting away Nigel's hand. Nigel let out a frustrated curse under his breath.

He shifted, letting one hand trail down Nigel’s chest before bracing himself on the back of the couch. He dipped, hips moving in tight figure-eights, his breath brushing against Nigel’s cheek.

The dance ended with Adam leaning in, lips brushing Nigel’s ear.

“Was that okay?” Adam sounded slightly out of breath.

Nigel’s voice was hoarse. “You leave me speechless, angel. Don’t know if I can fucking handle someone else having you like this.”

Adam smiled and slowly went in for a kiss, and Nigel pulled him close in response. The kiss deepened slowly, sweet and searching, mouths moving with quiet reverence. Nigel’s fingers slid up into Adam’s hair as Adam settled more firmly into his lap, the air between them thick with a low hum of heat. Nigel could feel his heart thrash against his ribs as Adam softly gasped against his lips.

Nigel broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, “You drive me fucking insane, you know that?”

Adam’s eyes sparkled, flushed and breathless. “I know, you tell me all the time.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

A week later, Nigel stood outside the private dance room at Catifea, arms folded, jaw tight. Inside, Adam was dancing for his very first private client.

But the day had started long before this moment.

Earlier that afternoon, Nigel had arrived at Adam’s apartment to find him meticulously folding an outfit on the bed. It was black and sheer with shimmering accents, cut in a way that made Nigel’s breath hitch.

Adam glanced up, catching the look. “Hi, Nigel. What is it?”

Nigel’s jaw tightened. “You’re not wearing that.”

Adam blinked. “What? Why not?“

“Because I said so,” Nigel replied, stepping into the bedroom. His voice was soft but firm, edged with something unyielding. “I’m not letting anyone else see this much of you.”

Adam’s brows furrowed. “You are not making sense, Nigel. People have seen me dance in more revealing outfits.”

“Adam, you know this is different.” Nigel huffed, itching for a cigarette and a beer. Maybe ten of each.

Adam frowned. “It’s just an outfit. I’m the one doing the dance, I decide how it goes.”

Nigel's expression didn’t change. “And I’m asking you to let me decide this time.” Nigel paused for a beat. “Please, darling.”

There was a long silence. Adam stared at the sheer fabric, the glitter straps of the bodysuit catching on the soft light of the bedroom lamp, then back at Nigel. A part of him bristled at how quickly Nigel dismissed his choice. Still, he knew pushing back would derail the whole evening, and deep down, he was in no headspace to dismantle the peace.

He sighed, feeling a flicker of irritation that Nigel was still being difficult, but nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”

Nigel softened just a bit, stepping toward Adam and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. He opened Adam’s closet and rummaged through the hangers. He raised an eyebrow when he found a pair of bunny ears tucked between costume bags. “What’s this?”

Adam blushed faintly. “Halloween is coming up, Bella told me the girls dress up for work that day.”

Nigel chuckled under his breath but moved on. He pushed aside feathers, mesh, sequins. Eventually, he pulled out an outfit that seemed satisfactory. Nigel held up a hanger dawning tight leather shorts and a matching crop top, snug but not see-through.

“Wear this. It’s sexy as fuck, but not overly revealing.”

Adam took it with a reluctant huff, rolling his eyes with fond exasperation. “This is not what I usually wear, Nigel.”

“So? You’ll still look gorgeous as always,” Nigel said, pressing a kiss to Adam’s forehead.

Adam pursed his lips, looking Nigel over before letting out a soft sigh. He packed it into his usual black duffel bag before turning on some music and stretching, loosening his limbs. Rather than launching into the routine, he experimented. Adam's movements were fluid, flowing from muscle memory and instinct. He turned his back to Nigel and rolled his shoulders, his movements slower and more exploratory than rehearsed. There was a sway to his hips as he turned, but it was subdued, carefree.

“Just feeling it out,” Adam murmured, catching Nigel’s gaze.

Nigel watched, mesmerized despite himself. There was something vulnerable about it, the way Adam let himself move freely, half in his head and half in his body. It wasn’t for a client. It wasn’t even for Nigel. It was for himself.

Adam turned to fully face Nigel, his lips twitched downward. “What?”

Nigel took a breath. “I... it’s beautiful. You're beautiful.”

Adam tilted his head in question as a faint smile graced his features. “Thank you.”

Nigel stepped closer, resting his hands on Adam’s hips. “Be careful, okay?” Nigel blurted out before he could stop himself.

Adam nodded. “I will.”

Now, hours later, those words echoed in Nigel’s head as he stood outside the private room.

He hadn’t wanted this.

But he agreed, he promised, that he would try, and going against Adam's wish felt like the ultimate sin against God. Still, the sounds from behind the door made his stomach twist into a hundred uneasy knots. He imagined every detail, every curve of Adam’s hips, every flirtatious smile. He remembered that in this moment, that it wasn’t for him. That was the part that hurt most. It felt like sharing something precious that was never meant to be shared.

He paced. Stared at the door. Then the ceiling. Then the door again. What if the guy tried something? What if Adam changed his mind and didn’t feel safe? The thoughts chased each other endlessly. He hated the idea of not being able to protect him.

“Nigel, you okay?” Called Darko, catching sight of him on his way toward the main floor.

“Fucking peachy.” Nigel forced a shrug, absentmindedly lighting his third cigarette since Adam walked through the private dances door.

“You look like you’re about to kick the fucking door down.” Darko smirked.

“I’ve considered it.” Nigel muttered under his breath.

But he didn’t. He stayed rooted to the spot, forcing himself to breathe and to trust Adam. He asked for this. Adam needs to feel capable. Independent. His instincts screamed at him, but he clenched his jaw and held the line.

When the door finally opened, the client stepped out first, adjusting his jacket and avoiding Nigel's sharp, ice-blue gaze. Nigel's fists clenched at his sides as he watched the man saunter off, smug and utterly unaware of the storm rolling in Nigel's chest. He wanted nothing more than to demand what the hell the man had done or said, but he swallowed the instinct, jaw twitching.

Then Adam stepped out, his beautiful Adam, still flushed and glowing slightly from the performance. Nigel straightened instinctively, trying to smother the jealousy simmering under his skin.

“All done,” Adam said softly, adjusting the waistband of his shorts. “He tipped well and was respectful.”

Nigel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Relief warred with leftover jealousy, and he forced himself to nod. “How do you feel?”

Adam gave him a small, tired smile. “I feel okay.”

They returned to Adam’s apartment later that night. After a quiet dinner, they curled together on the couch again. Adam insisted on watching a documentary that was recently released, and Nigel complied without hesitation. Adam wrapped himself in Nigel’s arms, listening to the soft drone of the narrator speak about the history of the Hubble Space Telescope.

On the contrary, Nigel didn’t pay attention, his focus landing solely on the doe-ish boy resting against his chest. Nigel rested his chin on Adam’s shoulder, his calloused hand sifting through soft and delicate curls. His other hand housed an unlit cigarette.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, gorgeous,” Nigel murmured, breaking the delicate quiet. “I know it wasn’t an easy decision to make—-doing private dances, I mean.”

Adam tilted his head back to look at him. “And I’m proud of you. You didn’t barge in there and you didn’t punch anyone.”

Nigel snorted. “You’re mocking me.”

“No I’m not.” Adam retorted. All Nigel could manage is a soft hum in response.

They lapsed back into comfortable silence. Nigel’s hand moved down to trace patterns on Adam’s pale arm, slow and thoughtful. He felt calmer now, but the tension hadn’t entirely left. There was still more he needed to say, to explain.

Then, without quite meaning to, he said, “I want to tell you something, darling.”

Adam looked up. “Okay.”

“It’s about my ex. Gabi. I mentioned her before.” Nigel’s mouth tasted bitter with regret.

Adam sat up a little straighter.“I remember, you cared for her when she would get migraines.”

Nigel jerked his head, the movement akin to a half nod. He took a breath, collecting his thoughts.

“She left me for someone else. Not quietly, either. Right in front of my fucking eyes, she ran to him instead of me.”

Adam’s eyes widened. “Nigel…”

“After that, I never wanted to fucking love again,” Nigel said. “Because if someone says they fucking love you and still chooses someone else, what does that say about you?”

Adam reached for the hand on his arm, letting his thumb slowly sweep across Nigel’s knuckles. “It's not your fault, Nigel.”

Nigel swallowed. “I remember feeling like I was less than, like nothing I could fucking do would ever be enough. And every time I see someone look at you, Adam… I wonder if one day, you’ll realize I’m not enough either.”

Adam’s voice was soft. “You are enough. But… I get it. When Beth said I was selfish for needing my routines… I started to believe it. That I’m too much work to love.”

Nigel wrapped his arms around Adam tighter, drawing him close. “Then maybe we’re both kind of messed up.”

“Compatible but volatile.” Adam observed.

Nigel kissed him, slow and sweet. “Exactly.”

They didn’t say much more after that. They didn’t need to. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they let the night carry them, warm and wordless on the couch.

Chapter 9

Notes:

Just want to say thank you for all of the love on this fic so far!

This is the first fic I've written & published in 5 years, and my first spacedogs fic. I will definitely be posting more spacedogs in the future!

As always, enjoy! <333

Adam stood at the stove in his cozy but meticulously tidy apartment, stirring a pan of chicken and broccoli with practiced efficiency. The scent of sizzling chicken, toasted sesame oil, and light herbs filled the kitchen. Despite the familiar aroma of comfort food, tension clung to the air like fog clung to a mirror after a hot shower. The table had been set with rare formality: pristine vintage plates, cloth napkins, and the polished silverware that Adam usually kept tucked away in a drawer marked “special occasions.”

Nigel sat at the kitchen counter, nursing a glass of water, although he wished it was a beer. Adam said no drinking until Harlan arrived, and even then it would only be a couple bottles. It took a sloppy blowjob and a cuddle session to convince Nigel of that. Still, Nigel was desperately trying to tamp down the swarm of nerves fluttering in his stomach. He wasn’t used to nerves like this, he was used to control, used to watching others flinch instead, but tonight was different.

It had all started earlier in the week, one quiet evening when he and Adam were curled together on the couch, their limbs comfortably tangled, the hum of a documentary—that Nigel got to pick this time—filling the background.

“Would it be okay if Harlan came over for dinner Sunday night?” Adam had asked, voice low and tentative.

Nigel had blinked, the question yanking him from his haze of half-sleep. “Who’s Harlan?”

“He was my dad’s friend in the army. I think I have mentioned him a couple of times. After Dad died, Harlan kept in touch. He’s downtown for the weekend, and… I haven’t seen him in a while.”

At the mention of another influential figure in Adam’s life, Nigel felt a clench in his gut, stirring fresh and familiar at the pit of his stomach.

“And you want me to meet him?” Nigel asked, his tone a little too tight.

Adam gave a slow nod, clearly sensing the shift. “Yes. It will just be for dinner. Here. He’s not staying long.”

Nigel’s first instinct had been to say no. To protect what they had, to keep Adam all to himself. But the look in Adam’s eyes, a vulnerable yet hopeful swirl dancing around his pupils, tore straight through his defenses.

“Alright,” Nigel said after a pause. “When?”

“Next Sunday.” Adam answered.

“Sunday night. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Now, Sunday had arrived, and Nigel was fidgeting at the kitchen counter, watching Adam with something between admiration and dread. The younger man’s routine, always so precise and measured, gave Nigel a strange kind of comfort. To him, it was like watching clockwork that never failed, the hour and minute hands ticking in sync, always on time. Adam, in his button-down shirt and clean apron, focused entirely on the food, was in his element.

“You feeling alright, baby?” Nigel asked, trying to sound casual.

Adam nodded, though his shoulders were a bit too stiff. “Yeah. Just… Harlan hasn’t met anyone I’ve dated before. Not even Beth, he only heard about her through me. He can be intense.”

Nigel gave a soft snort. “I can handle intense, darling.”

Adam turned, his expression unreadable. “I know, but I would like you to tone it down, please.”

“Tone what down?” Nigel shot Adam a look.

“I want you to not use profanity in front of him, Nigel. And don’t act like I’m your property. Just… be nice. Respectful.”

Nigel arched a brow. “So I’m a pitbull you’re trying to train for company?”

Adam grinned faintly and stepped over, kissing Nigel lightly on the cheek. “No, you’re not a dog. You’re important to me, but so is Harlan. I want this to go well and I want him to like you.”

Before Nigel could answer, a knock sounded at the door.

Adam moved quickly, drying his hands on a towel before peeling off his apron. Nigel stood and straightened his shirt collar, already regretting the sweat forming under his arms.

Adam opened the door to reveal a tall man in his sixties, broad-shouldered yet soft around the edges. His short-cropped black and gray hair framed a round but weathered face that had clearly seen decades of discipline and hardship. He wore a clean navy jacket over a collared shirt, and in one hand, he carried a six-pack of beer.

“Harlan,” Adam greeted with a half-smile. “You brought alcohol.”

“Hey kid,” Harlan returned, bringing Adam into a brief but strong one-armed hug. When he felt Adam tense slightly, he pulled away. “Felt like I needed to bring something. I know you don’t drink, but I certainly do.” Harlan’s head tilted towards the kitchen. “Smells good in here.”

Adam gestured for him to come into his apartment in his usual awkward nature. “This is Nigel. My boyfriend.”

Harlan turned to Nigel, eyes sharp and assessing. Nigel extended a hand.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Nigel said evenly.

Harlan shook his hand firmly. “Harlan Keyes. Old friend of the family. You’re the boyfriend.”

Nigel gave a dry smile. “That’s me.”

They sat down at the table, and the meal began in awkward but manageable silence. Harlan kept the conversation afloat, talking about his latest camping trip, asking Adam about his latest spacecraft replica projects, and telling tales about his days in the Armed Forces.

Nigel mostly listened, sipping his beer, but watching carefully. He was trying, really trying, not to take offense at Harlan’s cool demeanor or the way he kept scrutinizing him like he was a counterfeit bill.

“So,” Harlan said finally, after taking a bite of chicken, “I hear you work for that club. Catifea, right?”

Nigel nodded. “I do. Opened it a little over a year ago.”

Harlan’s brow lifted. “That… sounds like a stressful career. Didn’t realize you owned the club.”

Adam gave him a nervous smile. “He runs it really well.”

“I was thinking you were security,” Harlan said, setting his fork down. “You’ve got the look.”

Nigel smirked slightly, chewing the inside of his lip. “You would be fu– correct. I’m the main security guy as well as owning the place. I used to work security for… various venues before Catifea.”

Harlan leaned back in his chair. “So you’re Adam’s partner and you also own the place where Adam strips.”

Adam tensed beside Nigel, his fork clenched in his fist, but Nigel answered before the silence grew awkward. “Yes sir. I make sure it’s a place where people like Adam can work and do so safely.”

There was a beat of quiet. Then Harlan nodded. “Fair enough.”

They moved on to dessert—vanilla ice cream that Nigel picked up at the corner store the morning prior—and Adam excused himself to use the restroom. Nigel almost let a heavy sigh escape him, not pleased that Adam has now left him stuck at the table with Harlan, who is eyeing over Nigel rather harshly.

“Adam has told me a lot about you,” Harlan said, fixing Nigel with another look. “He says you two are serious.”

“We are,” Nigel replied, fiddling with the pack of cigarettes tucked in his trousers’ pocket.

“What are your intentions?” Harlan asked, blunt as ever.

Nigel blinked. “Excuse me?”

“With Adam. I don’t care about what you do for a living, but I do care about what you’re doing here.” Harlan stated, looking over Nigel with a critical eye.

Nigel’s jaw twitched. “I love him,” he said. “And I’d do fu– anything for him.”

Harlan’s eyes scanned the dining room, landing on a framed photo of younger Adam before turning his attention back to Nigel. “He’s been through hell. Losing his dad, two jobs, that girl, Beth. You know about her?”

Nigel nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Harlan’s eyes didn’t soften. “Good. Because that broke something in him. All of it has, and it’s taken a while to put those pieces back together. Don’t be the guy who shatters him again, or you’ll get to know me really well.”

Nigel met the man’s stare, Harlan’s thinly veiled threat not lost on him. If Nigel was irritated, he tried his best not to show it. “I won’t be.”

For the first time, Harlan seemed satisfied. He leaned forward onto the table, breaking eye contact to look in the direction of the bathroom. Harlan looked back at Nigel, to find him still staring. “I’m not sure if I should say this tonight, but… I might’ve found something. A job. For Adam.”

Nigel froze, the world around him seeming to still. “What kind of job?”

“There’s a guy I served with. He works in aerospace now. He’s part of a small company based in southern California. They’re looking for a systems assistant with a focus in navigation. Adam’s got the smarts. The precision. The focus. I showed him Adam’s old resume, didn’t mention the dancing of course. The guy’s interested.”

Nigel's chest tightened. “California?”

Harlan nodded. “Out by Long Beach. It’s not official or anything, but if Adam wants it, it could be his foot in the door. I wasn’t going to tell him until I had more details, but I thought you should know.”

“There’s no positions available for him in New York?”

“No. It’s solely based in California.”

Nigel swallowed, suddenly dry-mouthed. “And you want me to keep it a secret?”

“Just until I know more. I trust you to not run your mouth and get Adam’s hopes up.” Harlan narrowed his eyes. “But if Adam’s offered the job, you’ve got to think hard about whether you’re part of his future or just a stop along the way.”

Nigel couldn’t speak for a moment. The idea of Adam leaving—of waking up without Adam, his Adam, of stepping foot in Catifea and not seeing him perform his heart out on stage—rattled him. He nodded stiffly. “Understood.”

When Adam returned, nothing in Nigel’s voice betrayed what had just passed between them.

After the dishes were stacked in the sink and Harlan had left with a parting handshake and a firm “Take good care of him,” Adam curled into Nigel’s side on the couch. The apartment had gone quiet, save for the gentle hum of the fridge and the distant sounds of Manhattan bleeding in through the window. The tension from earlier had dissipated, replaced by something warmer, but Nigel’s chest still felt tight.

“You did good,” Adam said softly, brushing his thumb against Nigel’s knuckles.

Nigel gave a soft huff of laughter. “Didn’t say ‘fuck’ once.”

Adam smiled against his shoulder. “He liked you.”

“He grilled me like I was applying for a fucking loan, baby.” Nigel bitterly chuckled.

“He just wanted to know you’re good to me.”

Nigel didn’t answer. He stared at the TV screen across the room, but his thoughts were miles away—specifically, on the coast of California.

Harlan’s words wouldn’t stop echoing in his mind.

A job. A dream job. In southern California. Far from here. Far from me.

He looked down at Adam, so comfortable, so trusting in his arms. And Nigel hated himself for how quickly his love could twist into fear. Not fear of Adam succeeding, God no, but fear that he wouldn’t be a part of that success. Adam would finally get everything he deserved, everything he’d dreamed about, and in doing so, realize he didn’t need Nigel anymore. The wretched fantasy made him feel nauseous. He nearly excused himself for a cigarette.

“You alright?” Adam asked, peering up at him. He gently squeezed Nigel’s bicep. “You’re tense.”

“Yeah,” Nigel lied, forcing his muscles to relax. He softly brushed a hand through Adam’s hair. “Just… thinking.”

Adam’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t press for the time being. He shifted, resting his cheek over Nigel’s heartbeat. Nigel held him tighter.

Inside, he was continuing to spiral.

He’d never had someone like Adam, a man so bright and captivating and honest. Someone who didn’t wear a mask. He was a wild, brilliant thing, always reaching for the stars even when the world told him no. And now, the universe might finally be saying yes.

Nigel wasn’t the stars. He wasn’t a comet or a dream or a goddamn navigator. He was the gravity. The anchor and the spacecraft carrier. The thing you either held onto or broke free from.

The idea of never waking up to Adam again—of rolling over in bed to find the pillow cold, the northern star who guides his ship home—made something raw claw at his insides. But how could he stand in the way of Adam’s dream? How could he let his possessiveness cage someone who deserved to soar?

A deep ache settled into his chest.

“Nigel,” Adam murmured suddenly, voice soft against his shirt. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting strange and haven’t asked me to have sex yet tonight. I hope Harlan didn’t irritate you that badly, or make you unaroused.”

Nigel blinked, pulled from his thoughts. A surprised chuckle escaped his parted lips. “Like I said, I’m just thinking, gorgeous.”

Adam looked up. “About what, Nigel? Please don’t lie to me.”

Nigel let the silence stretch between them. He looked down at Adam, observing how his boy studied his face, trying to find some sort of hint as to what’s causing Nigel to act so off. With Nigel realizing that Adam was waiting for an answer, he forced himself to speak.

“I hate how territorial I get sometimes,” Nigel admitted. It wasn’t the full truth, but to Nigel, it was convincing enough. “How fucking possessive I am. It’s not who I want to be, but it’s like this switch flips, and I can’t stop it. I’m trying to unlearn it, I swear I am, baby. But it fucking scares me.”

Adam reached up, brushing his fingers along Nigel’s jaw. “You’re trying. That’s what matters… And I kind of like the possessiveness.”

Nigel’s eyebrows shot up, a dismayed look on his face. “You do?”

“Yes,” Adam answered, “I mean, I don’t like it when it makes you try to control the things I do. I need routine, Nigel, and I have incorporated you into it as best I can. But I still need autonomy.”

“I know, darling. Just… don’t give up on me.” Nigel hated how pathetic he sounded.

“I won’t,” Adam whispered. “If you don’t give up on me either.”

Nigel nodded, heart aching with everything unsaid.

Even if you leave for California.

Even if you chase the stars.

I will chase them with you.

I won’t stop loving you.

Chapter 10

Notes:

NO THIS WORK IS NOT ABANDONED, I'M BACK!!

Life has been a little hectic lately, and I am not sure if I am satisfied with my writing in this chapter (will I ever truly be satisfied?)

Hope the smut can make up for my absence!

Content warning for mentions of non-consensual touching (is NOT between main pair).

The night had started off like any other at Catifea. Smoke curled and swept above the stage and onto the club-goers below, bass-heavy music shook the floor, and the scent of perfume mingled with the stale heat of sweat. Nigel stood by Adam’s private dance room with his arms crossed, his gaze never straying far from the door beside him. He didn’t say anything when Adam walked off with his client. He opted instead for a singular nod, his jaw tight.

It was Adam’s tenth private client. Not the first. Not the second. And yet, the low, sizzling knot in Nigel’s stomach hadn’t fizzled out since the first time Adam disappeared behind the door. The private dance combined with the secret Harlan told him nearly a month ago loomed over his head like a cold coastal fog, a constant reminder of what he could lose.

He told himself it was fine. Adam was fine. Strong. Smart. In control.

And then the door swung open too early.

Adam emerged alone, one of the straps to his bodysuit hanging around his bicep. He appeared flushed, but not from exertion. His jaw was tight and his hands crept up to cover his ears, a telltale tremble gracing his fingers. Nigel’s body snapped to face Adam. His rough hands immediately laid on top of Adam’s own, caressing the sides of his head.

“Nigel—” Adam started, voice sharp but not overly panicked.

“What happened?” Nigel asked, squeezing the tops of Adam’s clammy hands. “What the fuck happened, darling?”

“He touched me,” Adam said. “He grabbed my hips and I told him no touching, it’s company policy. He didn’t listen.”

Nigel’s vision narrowed. “Is he still in there?”

Adam nodded and blinked back tears. “I took care of it. I pushed myself off of him. I left. I’m safe now.”

Nigel didn’t hear the second half. He only heard touched.

His fury surged, threatening to envelop him and swallow him whole. He pushed past Adam, storming into the private dance room before anyone could stop him. The client, a stocky man in a wrinkled maroon blazer and greasy hair, was grinning smugly like nothing had happened as he gathered himself. The apparent bulge in the man’s pants nearly made him turn back around to grab his handgun from the office.

“You think this is a fucking joke?” Nigel growled, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him into the wall by the door.

The man made a flimsy attempt to sputter something out, but Nigel didn’t wait. His fist collided with the man’s jaw, then again at his ribs. It was fast, brutal. Nigel felt his knuckles begin to sting, the stuffy air of the private dance room feeling sharp and raw on the broken skin. After several connected hits, the client ended up on the floor, groaning, blood trailing from his nose. With a loud grunt of effort, Nigel began to stomp on the guy’s torso.

How dare a man, a swine, lay his hands on Adam like that? To be graciously offered a boy akin to the lamb of god, and to in return offer its innocence, its grace, to the slaughter. Nigel didn’t believe in mercy to those who cannot keep their filthy hands clean and celibate, away from Adam, and the gravel-littered sole of his shoe met the man’s chest once more.

“Nigel!” Adam’s voice finally cut through, frantic yet sharp. “That’s enough!”

Nigel was breathing hard, shoulders heaving. He flexed his knuckles, feeling a cooling drop of blood drip onto the floor beside his shoe. Adam stood at the front of the door with Darko behind him. Some club-goers gathered around the scene to see what was unfolding. Bella and a couple of the other dancers hovered nearby, eyes wide. Nigel turned away from the bloody man, and he could feel everyone’s eyes on him, especially Adam’s. He couldn’t care less.

“I handled it,” Adam said again, more quietly now. “And you just... you didn’t trust me to.”

“I trusted you,” Nigel spat, “I didn’t trust him.”

Darko shooed the crowd away and mumbled in Nigel’s ear, “I’ll take care of this and get this guy out of here. If someone called the fucking cops, Nigel, I swear to fucking god, you best have a really good story to get us out of this shit.”

Nigel let Darko push him away and felt his arm being grabbed by Adam. Adam led the both of them to his dressing room, slamming the door behind them. Nigel sat on the couch and watched Adam rummage around in his duffel bag. Adam stood over him, hydrogen peroxide and gauze in his hands.

“I told you, Nigel,” Adam said, crouching down and cleaning Nigel’s blood-stained knuckles. “I had it under control.”

“I know.” Nigel winced, the slight burn of the chemicals on raw and open skin making his fists clench.

“If you knew that, why did you beat him up?”

“I was fucking pissed, alright?” Nigel barked. “I’m still pissed. The idea of someone putting their hands on you like that—I just—” He stopped, voice catching.

Adam softened, just a little. “You’re not wrong for being angry, but I need to be able to do this job without you getting angry every time something happens. Incidents like this are bound to happen, and I’m sorry that they do, but you could get in trouble, Nigel. I don’t want to lose you like that, or lose another job.”

Nigel went quiet after that, words escaping his mind like a leaking pipe. He watched Adam carefully finish cleaning his knuckles, patting them dry before straightening up and throwing away the gauze. Adam walked back and sat next to Nigel, taking his hand in his. Nigel gazed at Adam’s fingers, feeling the soft pads trace over his knuckles, which were already starting to bloom with bruises. He felt tears burn his eyes, threatening to escape his ducts and burst. Nigel quickly blinked them away.

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” Adam mumbled, keeping his eyes fixed on Nigel’s hand. Nigel took a deep breath and nodded.

They sat in silence for a long time, the buzz of the club muffled behind the dressing room walls. Nigel’s hand rested lightly against Adam’s, squeezing the soft flesh and noting the contrast to his own calloused hand.

“I liked that you got mad.” Adam confessed after a while.

Nigel's eyes lifted to meet Adam’s. “Why?”

Adam shifted, propping himself up slightly to rest his head on Nigel’s shoulder. There was no hesitation in his eyes.

“Because it made me feel important. Like I matter that much to you.” Adam answered.

“You matter more to me than I could ever fucking tell you, angel.”

“I know,” Adam paused, “It still frustrates me when your anger gets in the way of my job, but… I like seeing you protect me like that, even if it is a little unnecessary.”

Another beat of silence hung over the room. Adam spoke up again, a faint smile playing at the edge of his lips. “It was also sexually arousing.”

Nigel blinked. “Arousing?”

Adam nodded, cheeks flushed now. “Like I said, you were protecting me. Your muscles are so big and you look so powerful like that.”

Nigel smirked, his jeans starting to feel a little tighter around the zipper. “Naughty boy.”

Adam bit back a sound caught between a whimper and a giggle. He nuzzled Nigel’s strong neck, taking in his pin-up girl tattoo before craning his neck up to plant a soft kiss on the underside of Nigel’s jaw. “I want to go back to my apartment, change, and have sex with you.”

Nigel didn’t even try to mask his eagerness. “Sounds like a fucking plan, angel.”

The night air was thick with the scent of misty rain as they stepped out of Catifea, the neon lights casting a sickly glow on the damp sidewalks. The throbbing bass of the club's music grew faint as they approached the motorcycle parked half a block away. Nigel’s hand was firm around Adam’s waist as he led him to the bike, the material of his jacket creaking with every movement. Adam’s heart hammered in his chest, a mix of fear and excitement making his limbs feel heavy. He’d seen Nigel get angry and lose control before, but never like that. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

Nigel swung his leg over the motorcycle and handed Adam a helmet. Adam climbed on behind him, wrapping his arms tightly around his bulky waist. Nigel revved the engine, the vibrations rumbling through their bodies. He didn’t need to be told where to go, he knew the way to Adam’s apartment like the back of his hand by now.

They sped through the Manhattan streets, the wind tearing at Nigel’s hair, the cool droplets kissing both of their faces. Adam felt rejuvenated. He felt his body pressed against Nigel’s, the warmth of his back seeping into him and shielding him from the dreary, gray weather.

When they arrived at Adam’s apartment, Nigel helped him off the bike, his hands gentle despite his earlier display of brutality. He followed Adam up the stairs, his heavy shoes echoing in the quiet of the night. Once inside, Adam’s apartment was a haven from the chaos of the city outside, the only noise accompanying them being that of their labored breathing and the distant patter of rain against the window.

They didn’t bother with the lights. The moonlight streamed in through the parted curtains of the nearby living room, casting a silver glow across the room. Adam’s pulse raced as Nigel closed the door behind them, his eyes burning with a primal hunger that made him feel like prey and predator at the same time.

Nigel stepped closer, his eyes dark with need. He leaned down, his breath hot against Adam’s ear. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Liked what?” Adam asked, already breathless. If Nigel didn’t know any better, he would be led to believe that Adam was feigning innocence.

Nigel’s hand dropped Adam’s duffel bag to the floor before snaking it around his waist, his thumb stroking the bare flesh above his leather skirt. He could feel the outline of Nigel’s thick cock pressing into his stomach.

“You liked watching me beat the shit out of that guy?” Nigel’s voice was low, gruff.

Adam nodded again, his breath hitching. Nigel’s hand moved to the front of Adam’s skirt, his fingers brushing the bulge there. “And now you want me to fuck you like that? Rough and hard?”

“Yes,” Adam whispered, his voice trembling.

Nigel’s hand tightened around him, and he bit back a gasp. “Yes what?” Nigel growled.

“Yes, Nigel.” Adam whimpered. Nigel roughly tugged at Adam's leather-clad cock hidden beneath his skirt, causing a surprised cry to leave Adam's lips.

“Try again, baby.” Nigel growled.

Adam's eyes widened with understanding. “Yes, daddy.”

Nigel’s other hand reached up and grabbed a fistful of Adam’s hair, pulling his head back. “Good boy,” he murmured, before claiming Adam’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Adam’s body melted into his, his own hands moving to Nigel’s chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

They stumbled into the bedroom, their kisses growing more frantic with every step. Adam’s heart was racing as Nigel pushed him onto the bed, the mattress giving way beneath him. He watched as Nigel peeled off his jacket and button-up shirt, his muscles rippling in the soft lighting of the room. Nigel unceremoniously undid his belt and stripped himself of his pants and boxers, revealing his thick cock, flushed and already dripping.

Nigel prowled over on the mattress, his eyes never leaving Adam’s. He reached down and unzipped Adam's skirt, sliding it off with a practiced ease that made Adam’s skin tingle. Nigel gripped each strap to Adam’s bodysuit and ripped it down his body. Adam was too dazed to comment on the sound of fabric stitches coming undone. Adam’s cock sprang free, erect and needy. Nigel took it in his hand, stroking it firmly.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, angel,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “So perfect for me to take care of.”

Adam’s eyes rolled back in his head as Nigel’s hand worked him, his hips bucking upwards. Nigel leaned down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of Adam’s neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. He sucked hard, leaving a hickey on his collarbone that would no doubt bruise. Adam gasped, his body arching off the bed.

“Nigel, please,” he begged.

Nigel smirked. “What do you want, baby?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Adam panted.

Nigel’s eyes flashed, his grip tightening on Adam’s cock. He's never heard Adam swear like that until tonight, and it makes a pearl of pre-cum bead at his tip. “Such a dirty fucking mouth my angel has. How could I deny you?”

He leaned over, his mouth hovering just above Adam’s. “But first, I want you to remember who you belong to.”

He bit down on Adam’s bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. Adam moaned into the kiss, his hands clawing at Nigel’s back. Nigel’s teeth traveled down his neck, leaving a line of bites and bruises that Adam knew would be there in the morning.

“I want you to remember who will protect you.”

Nigel’s hand moved down to Adam’s ass, squeezing it roughly. He grabbed the lube, which now resided on top of the bedside drawer, and coated his fingers liberally. He pushed a finger into him, making him cry out. It was a stark reminder of what was to come, and Adam’s body responded eagerly, his cock throbbing in Nigel’s hand.

He roughly fucked his finger in and out of Adam's tight hole, watching the pucker flutter as he added a second finger. He roughly scissored his fingers in and out, a soft and wet squelching sound filling the room alongside Nigel's heavy breathing and Adam's soft pleas.

Nigel’s eyes searched Adam’s, looking for any sign of doubt or fear. Seeing none, he leaned down to whisper, “Ready for me, sweet boy?”

Adam nodded frantically, his breathing ragged. Nigel leaned over to the bedside table and grabbed the bottle of lube once more, squeezing a generous amount onto his cock. He positioned himself at Adam’s entrance, his eyes never leaving Adam’s.

“You want this?” Nigel asked, his voice a low rumble.

“Yes, daddy,” Adam breathed.

With one swift motion, Nigel slammed into him, burying his cock to the hilt. Adam’s eyes rolled back, and a guttural cry tore from his throat. Nigel’s hands were on the back of Adam's thighs, folding him in half so aggressively that the balls of Adam's feet nearly laid beside each side of his head. Nigel held him down as he began to move, each thrust punctuating the air of the room.

“Call me daddy again, baby,” Nigel ordered, his voice strained.

“Daddy,” Adam whined, his voice hoarse.

Nigel’s hips pistoned into him, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside that had Adam’s toes curling and his nails digging into the bedspread. The pain was exquisite, and Adam found himself begging for more.

“Tell me who you belong to.” Nigel growled.

“You… I belong to you,”

Nigel’s thrusts grew more erratic, his breath coming in harsh pants. He leaned down, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of Adam’s shoulder. Adam’s back bowed off the bed, his cock slapping against his stomach with every thrust. Adam reached down to jerk off his cock as Nigel fucked in and out of him, but Nigel slapped his hand away.

“You will come on my cock and my cock alone, understand?” Nigel demanded, staring Adam down as he kept up his relentless pace.

Adam nodded, letting out a meek whimper as he looked up at Nigel through his eyelashes. Nigel bit back a husky, pleased hum. He moved his hand to Adam’s throat, not quite choking him but applying enough pressure to make him gasp. He thrust harder, his cock pounding into Adam with a ferocity that left Adam’s vision swimming.

“You’re mine, baby. All fucking mine.”

“Yes, yes, I’m yours! Please let me come…” Adam chanted.

The bed creaked and groaned under their combined weight, the headboard thumping against the wall with every thrust. The pain from Nigel’s bites and the grip on his throat only added to the pleasure that was building inside him. Adam’s legs wrapped around Nigel’s waist, trying to pull him closer, deeper.

“Let go and come for me, angel,” Nigel ordered. “Show how good you can be for daddy, baby.”

Adam’s body obeyed, his orgasm ripping through him like a bolt of lightning. He came with a strangled cry, his come spurting onto Nigel’s stomach. Nigel’s eyes narrowed, watching Adam’s face contort with pleasure before he pulled out, his cock slick with lube and pre-cum.

Without warning, Nigel flipped Adam onto his stomach, pushing his face into the pillow. He grabbed Adam’s hips and pulled him back onto his cock, pushing into him without any preamble. Adam’s body jerked at the sudden intrusion, but he was too lost in the aftermath of his orgasm to protest.

“I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk straight, baby. Until you remember exactly who’s in charge here.”

Adam nodded, muffled by the pillow. Nigel’s hand slapped down on Adam’s ass, the sound echoing in the quiet room. He began to fuck him in earnest now, his grip on Adam’s hips tight enough to leave bruises. The overstimulation to Adam’s prostate was brutal, the pain mixing with the pleasure until it was indistinguishable.

“Too much… So good…” Adam moaned into the pillow.

Nigel’s strokes grew more ferocious, his hands alternating between having a vice grip on Adam’s narrow hips and smacking his milky ass. Adam felt his body growing more pliant and helpless, his muscles weakly fluttering around Nigel’s thick cock. Nigel’s grunts grew louder, his breathing more ragged.

Adam felt Nigel’s hand hook around and move to his throat again, his grip tightening. Nigel’s hips slammed into him, the headboard now pounding a staccato rhythm against the wall. Adam’s eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth opening in silent cries.

Nigel leaned down, his teeth nipping at Adam’s earlobe. “You’re mine, gorgeous. You're mine to protect, to cherish, to care for. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Adam’s voice was barely audible.

“Say it louder.” Nigel’s voice was a command, his hand squeezing harder.

“Yes daddy, I’m yours!” Adam shouted, his voice breaking.

Nigel’s orgasm hit him like a freight train, his cock pulsing inside Adam’s ass. He held on tight, his body shaking with the force of his release. Adam felt filled, claimed, and utterly consumed by Nigel like he never has before.

When Nigel finally pulled out, they were both covered in a sheen of sweat. Adam’s ass was sore, but it was a good kind of pain. The kind of pain that reminded him he was alive, that he was strong and capable. Nigel collapsed beside him, his chest heaving.

They lay there for a moment, their breathing slowly returning to normal. Nigel’s hand reached out to stroke Adam’s back, his thumb tracing the bite marks he’d left earlier.

“Are you okay, baby?” Nigel asked, his voice soft, the aggressiveness from before a distant memory.

Adam rolled over, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming.

Nigel pulled him into his arms, holding him tightly. “You’re safe with me, gorgeous. I’ll always protect you.”

Adam nuzzled into his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin. “I know,” he murmured.

They lay there, holding onto each other, the rain pattering against the window. In that moment, Adam felt more protected and cherished than he ever had before. Nigel’s fierce love for him was etched into every bruise and bite mark on his body, a declaration of possession that made the edges of his mind blur. It quieted him, subdued him, coated over his thoughts like a fleece blanket fresh out of the dryer.

“I gotta clean us up. Do you wanna watch a movie baby? Or do you wanna sleep?” Nigel asked gently.

Adam yawned, his body feeling heavy with satisfaction. “I wanna watch a movie with you.”

Nigel kissed the top of his head. “Whatever you want, angel.”

They cleaned up together in the bathroom, the warm water of the shower soothing their sore muscles. Nigel took his time cleaning Adam, washing away come and tending to his bruises. They settled into bed, the TV casting a blue glow across the room. Adam curled up into Nigel’s arms with his head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

The movie played in the background, but neither of them paid attention. They were too lost in each other. Nigel’s arms tightened around Adam, his hand carding through the damp strands of his hair as he whispered sweet nothings into his ear. When one of Nigel’s hands slid down to rest on Adam’s ass, Adam giggled and playfully pushed his rear back onto Nigel’s palm. Adam let out a flustered breath when he felt his boyfriend’s cock twitch with interest.

“I hope I wasn’t too rough on you, baby.” Nigel mumbled, looking down at Adam, observing how his boyfriend’s dark curls contrasted with the straw-colored hairs on his fuzzy chest. Adam’s damp hair had gone cold, causing goosebumps to prickle up from his skin.

Adam shook his head, “No, I liked it.”

All Nigel could manage was a soft and pleasurable hum in response.

As the movie played on, their breathing grew synchronized, their hearts beating as one. Adam’s eyes grew heavy, and he soon drifted off to sleep. Nigel held him close, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He found himself unable to succumb to slumber, carefully grabbing a cigarette from the bedside drawer and lighting it. The smell roused Adam, lightly smacking Nigel’s chest disapprovingly in his half-asleep state, and Nigel couldn’t hold back his smile.

Chapter 11

Notes:

Hope you enjoy!

Expect one to two more chapters after this, then the story will be completed.

I have also been working on another spacedogs story for the past two months, but that will not be posted until all of it is completed. Thank you for your patience!

It was a slow and heady Monday night at Catifea, the kind of slow that settled into the gut and made everything feel a little heavier. The Halloween tourist buzz had fizzled out, and with it went the crowds and tips. November had arrived, sharp-edged and wind-chafed. The razor-edged air bled through the cracks in the front windows and pressed against the walls of the club like an uninvited ghoul.

The crowd was thin tonight, half-full at best. Most of the regulars stayed away on Mondays unless they had nowhere else to be. A few clusters of stragglers huddled near the stage, drinks in hand, eyes on the velvet curtain where Auriga was about to make his appearance.

Nearby, Nigel leaned against the corner of the bar, a whiskey glass balanced between his hands. He’d been nursing it for an hour, barely sipping. The stage lights flashed pink and violet across the floor as the curtains pulled back, revealing Adam in full Auriga glory.

Tonight, Adam had chosen an outfit that has become common amongst his performances; high-waisted black sequin shorts, thigh-high boots with a silver heel, and a sheer mesh blouse that sparkled in the overhead lights. His makeup was sharp yet dollish, lips red as blood and cheekbones gleaming. He stepped into the spotlight with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what he was doing and enjoyed being watched for it.

Nigel, as always, couldn’t take his eyes off him.

The crowd responded well, even if smaller than usual. There was cheering, scattered clapping, a few catcalls and the usual whistles, but Adam was in his element. His hips rolled with the rhythm of the track and he worked the pole in the center of the stage with playful, calculated ease. Nigel grumbled to himself under his breath as he watched Adam collect his tips from the crowd, always seeming to notice how handsy some of the men are. He thinks he’ll never get used to it.

Nigel caught Adam in the green room after he finished up performing, planting a chaste kiss to Adam’s lips. Adam flashed him a gummy smile as he wiped away the red lipstick now smeared on Nigel.

“Harlan is coming up for the weekend since he can’t make it for Thanksgiving. He wants to take us out for dinner.”

Nigel blinked. “Are you okay with that? Going out for dinner, I mean.”

“Yes, he knows the restaurants I like.” Adam answered, stripping off his boots and packing them in his duffel bag.

Nigel watched Adam pack up in silence, his heart slowly sinking to his stomach. He thought back to the last time he and Harlan spoke, recalling the job offer across the country. Away from Catifea, away from Nigel.

“What day and time, darling?”

“Saturday at 4 so we miss the dinner rush. He says it’s nothing serious, just wants to catch up.”

Nigel swallowed. If he was nervous, Adam didn’t notice. “We can make that work.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Nigel told himself he was being stupid.

It was just dinner.

But it wasn’t dinner, not really. It was an impending goodbye.

Harlan was going to offer Adam that job.

The one he’d already mentioned to Nigel in confidence. The one with Adam written all over it—satellite navigation, trajectory analysis, data systems, California. It had sounded like science fiction when Harlan first brought it up over cheap beers in Adam’s dining room. At the time, Nigel did his best to brush it off, act excited for this potential new opportunity for Adam and selfishly pray it didn’t come true. He hadn’t thought it would amount to anything. Now, he felt like a man counting down the hours until the person he loved the most walked away and never looked back.

The days between Tuesday and Saturday stretched long. Anxiety sat in his stomach like a heavy sludge throughout the week, lining his intestines with acid and threatening to bubble up his throat.

On Tuesday night, Adam talked about how the stars looked brighter now that the air was colder. He had been reading an article about the upcoming winter constellations, tracing them on a map. Nigel tried to listen, but every mention of the sky felt like a step closer to Harlan’s offer. Satellites. Navigation. Trajectories. All of which he couldn’t understand. He could hear Harlan’s voice saying those words, smooth and certain. Words from a world he didn’t understand.

By Wednesday, the anxiety was starting to show in more obvious ways. Nigel was more abrupt with the bartenders, more easily irritated when a customer asked a stupid question. Adam noticed, though he did not press. Instead, he made tea that night and set it in front of Nigel without comment, before dropping to his knees and giving him a sloppy blowjob. The tea went untouched, but Adam’s curls were tousled by the time Nigel came.

Thursday was worse. Nigel woke up early, unable to fall back asleep, the sound of traffic outside pulling him into a restless loop of thoughts. He imagined Adam walking through an airport, luggage in hand, looking back only once before disappearing into the crowd. Adam’s face was painted with a meek, sad smile akin to Gabi’s. The image stuck with him all day.

On Friday, Nigel almost told Adam they should cancel. The words were in his throat when Adam came out of the bedroom wearing nothing but one of Nigel’s old sweaters, sleeves bunched up at the elbows, smiling faintly. Nigel swallowed the words and said nothing. He could not be the reason Adam turned down an opportunity. That would make him exactly what Adam had accused him of before. He wanted Adam to stay because he wanted to, not because Nigel made it impossible to leave.

Saturday evening arrived cold and clear, the kind of night where the air carried the scent of crunched leaves from Central Park blocks away. Adam was at his apartment getting ready, and Nigel had come over early under the pretense of helping him pick out a sweater. In truth, he could not stand the idea of showing up at the restaurant directly from his own place, with hours of silence before the meeting.

When Nigel arrived, Adam was standing in front of the mirror adjusting the collar of a crisp off-white button-down. His hair was neatly combed, though he kept running his fingers through it, inadvertently undoing the neatness just enough.

“Which one?” Adam asked, holding up two sweaters.

Nigel stepped closer, taking the navy one from his hands and slipping it over Adam’s head. “This one,” he said. “Looks fucking gorgeous on you.”

Adam smiled at him in the mirror. “You look gorgeous too, Nigel.” he said, eyeing Nigel’s clean but casual shirt and jacket.

“It’s just dinner.” Nigel wasn’t sure if he was saying it to Adam or himself.

Adam turned to face him, his head slightly tilted to one side. “You’ve been acting weird all week. Is it because of Harlan?”

Nigel hesitated. “I just… I know how he is.”

“It’s just dinner,” Adam repeated, echoing Nigel’s own words. “We’ve done it before. We’ll eat, talk, and that’s it.”

Nigel nodded, though he did not believe it.

The restaurant in the East Village was warm and wood-paneled, the lanterns above illuminating the entranceway. Nigel shakily climbed out of the Uber and led the way, Adam following without comment. They found Harlan seated in a booth at the back of the restaurant, glasses of iced water and two beers already situated on the table. Adam looked both excited and anxious as they both slid into the booth across from Harlan. Nigel could feel the slight bounce in his leg under the table.

“Good to see the both of you again,” Harlan grinned, reaching over to lightly ruffle Adam’s hair and earnestly pat Nigel on the shoulder.

“Thank you for inviting us to dinner.” Nigel managed a smile that felt like it had been carved from stone.

The conversation began lightly. Harlan asked about the club, Adam’s recent routines and updates on the constellation maps. Nigel let Adam do the talking, hanging on to every spoken word about space, the light and love of Adam’s world. Perhaps the true light and love of Adam’s world. He felt his stomach churn as he stared at the meal in front of him, hunger crumbling away to dread. Nigel cut into his steak without appetite, hoping to give the impression that he was eating, watching Harlan watch Adam. He could feel his pulse in his throat, anticipation building toward something inevitable.

Halfway through, Harlan steadily set down his fork and knife, folding his hands together on the table. His voice dropped a little, quiet but deliberate. “Adam, I have an opportunity for you. An opportunity that actually uses your mind the way it deserves.”

Adam looked up, his fork still poised. “What do you mean?”

Nigel’s chest tightened. He already knew.

Harlan’s eyes softened. “A buddy of mine from the army is working out in Long Beach. He’s with a company that deals with satellite navigation systems. Flight paths. Simulation modeling. They’re looking for someone with the right kind of focus and aptitude. I told him about you.”

Adam blinked. “Me? But… I don’t have any work experience in my field of interest, my toy company job–”

“You don’t need work experience to see patterns most people can’t,” Harlan rebut quickly. “You’re brilliant, Adam. You’ve got the kind of mind that could eat that work alive, I know how passionate you are about it. He said he’d be willing to talk to you. Nothing binding. Just a conversation.”

Nigel dropped his knife onto his plate a little too hard, the sound sharp against the steady hum of the restaurant. Both Adam and Harlan glanced at him. He forced himself to pick up his glass, covering the movement with a sip of his beer.

Adam was already leaning forward, his curiosity sparking in a way Nigel had dreaded all week. “What kind of systems?” he asked. “Is it navigation by orbital mechanics? Or more about simulation testing?”

Harlan grinned. “Exactly the kind of questions he hoped you’d ask. I’ll give you his contact info.”

Adam hesitated, glancing sideways at Nigel. “I… I don’t know. It sounds interesting, but it’s a lot. I’m afraid of being overwhelmed.”

Nigel’s voice cut in, low and tight. “It’s all the way in California.”

The words hung between them like smoke. Adam nervously watched Nigel out of the corner of his eye before looking down at his plate. Harlan leaned back in his seat, throwing an unimpressed look Nigel’s way.

“Yes. Long Beach,” Harlan stated before turning his attention back to Adam. “But it’s not like you’d be drafted into it tomorrow. Just an option.”

Nigel roughly set his glass down. “An option that takes him three fucking thousand miles away.”

Away from me was left unsaid.

Adam touched his arm gently, but his eyes gleamed with warning. “Nigel.”

Nigel couldn’t bring himself to face Adam, instead it was his turn to stare down the plate in front of him.

“There’s no pressure, kid. Just a door that could open for you if you want it.” Harlan reassured.

The rest of the meal unfolded in fragments. Adam asked a few more questions, cautious but interested. Nigel answered only when spoken to, each word clipped. The warmth of the restaurant pressed down on him, heavy and almost suffocating.

By the time dessert menus arrived, Nigel could not remember the taste of his food, only feeling the slight lurch of nausea on his tongue. He could picture Adam in California, a different skyline above him and leading a different life entirely.

Outside the restaurant, the air had turned colder. November had sharpened the wind, slipping easily through the seams of their coats. Adam picked at lint on the hem of his sweater while Nigel lit a cigarette with unsteady fingers, the glow briefly illuminating the sharp set of his jaw.

Harlan clapped Adam on the shoulder before they split. “I’ll text you his info once I get home. Think about it, alright? No rush.”

Adam nodded, polite, though his brow was furrowed with thought. Nigel offered only the faintest grunt of acknowledgement. Harlan gave him a knowing look, a flash of disapproval that made Nigel want to smash his jaw, then turned down the street and disappeared into the night.

Their Uber pulled up, and Adam slid in first, scooting to the far side of the backseat. Nigel followed, pulling the door shut with more force than he intended. The city slipped past outside the windows; Glowing storefronts, damp steam rising from sewer grates, the occasional burst of laughter from a bar spilling onto the street. Inside the car, it was silent.

The driver’s eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, sensing tension but wisely staying quiet. The car rattled over a pothole, shaking them both slightly, but the silence afterward was heavier than before.

Adam kept his lips pressed together, unsure of how to break the silence, or if he should break the silence. He kept his gaze fixed out the window, his brows kept furrowed as he tried to figure out why Nigel was so upset. On the other side of the vehicle, Nigel attempted to keep his heavy, quick-paced breath under control. He was already itching for another smoke.

When they reached the apartment, Adam unlocked the door and let them in. The door closed behind them with a muted click, shutting out the hum of the city and leaving only the quiet of Adam’s apartment. Warm air met them, familiar, the faint smell of Adam’s chamomile tea still lingering from that morning.

Nigel dropped his coat over the back of the loveseat without care, his movements stiff, like a machine wound too tightly. Adam hung his carefully, lining it up with the others. Adam paused before taking Nigel’s coat and doing the same. The silence between them was heavy, like something waiting to snap.

Adam chiseled away at the tension first. “You didn’t say much.”

“What was there to fucking say?” Nigel grumbled, flopping down onto the sofa.

“I don’t know,” Adam answered, searching Nigel’s face, “I would like you to be honest about how you feel.”

“You wanna know how I feel about Harlan offering you a fucking job that takes you thousands of fucking miles away? Where he basically handed you a golden fucking chance to walk out of this life?”

Adam frowned, stepping closer. “That’s not what he did.”

“That’s exactly what he fucking did,” Nigel snapped, his accent sharpening. “He dangled a dream in front of you, and I saw your face. You looked like you were ready to say yes right fucking there at the table.”

Adam blinked at him, his confusion rising. “Nigel… I don’t understand. Why does this have to mean leaving you?”

Nigel stared at him, caught off guard. “What?”

“Why does this have to mean leaving you?” Adam repeated, more insistent now. “If I went to California, you could come too. It doesn’t have to mean goodbye. It could mean… a different kind of life. Together.”

For a moment, Nigel just looked at him, as if Adam had spoken in a language he did not recognize. Then he gave a short, incredulous laugh. “Come with you? You think it’s that fucking simple? Pack a bag and move across the country like it’s nothing?”

Adam tilted his head, earnest and bewildered. “Why not? If you’re worried about Catifea, you could sell it, or put Darko in charge, or…” He trailed off when he saw Nigel’s expression. “You’re looking at me like I’ve said something wrong.”

“Because it fucking is, darling,” Nigel snapped, pacing now, too restless to stay still. His shoes thudded against the hardwood, his hand dragging through his hair. “I’ve seen this story before. You go off chasing big things, and I stay by your side, but one day you wake up and realize I don’t fucking fit into that new perfect life of yours.”

Adam’s mouth opened, then closed. His brow furrowed. “You’re not making sense, Nigel. I’m not gonna leave you.”

“You don’t know that!” Nigel shot back. He turned toward him, eyes wild and his voice breaking. “You can swear it up and down, but when the time comes, when the offer turns into a contract and the contract turns into a fucking career, you’ll find someone smarter and more capable, and you’ll take one fucking look at me and wonder why the hell you’re keeping me around. And then you’ll leave. Everyone leaves.”

“Can you listen to me, Nigel?” Adam begged, gently pushing at Nigel to sit back down on the couch. Nigel looked up at him, finding his lover’s eyes glistening with unshed tears. A tense, pregnant pause passed between the two, the living room silent besides the crackling of the apartment’s heater. Adam’s eyes met Nigel’s briefly before he turned, making his way towards the kitchen.

Nigel goes to stand again, his heart thumping as he sees Adam dab at his eyes with his sleeves. “Baby–”

“No. You are going to sit down and wait. I am making us tea.” Adam barked, his tone sharp and sure.

All Nigel could do was nod and slowly sit back down, feeling his knees crack under his weight. The kettle filled the silence with its low groan. Adam moved with mechanical precision, filling it with water before setting it on the stove. Nigel sat back, shoulders slumped, watching the motions from the living room with something akin to bewilderment.

Minutes stretched. The whistle of the kettle filled the apartment, piercing the tension for a moment before Adam poured. The smell of lavender and hibiscus drifted throughout the apartment, soft and floral, incongruous against the storm still hanging in the air. Adam returned at last, careful, carrying two mugs. He set them gently on the coffee table, the steam curling upward. Then he sat beside Nigel on the couch, close but not touching.

They sat in silence, both staring at the cups. Nigel wrapped his hands around his, letting the warmth bleed into his palms. His throat worked, but no words came. Adam lifted his mug to his lips, blew on it, and took a careful sip, his lashes low. For a few long minutes, the tea was the only bridge between them.

“Are you ready to listen to me now?” Adam asked, his voice low and steady.

“Yes.” Nigel managed to croak out.

“I’m not saying yes. I’m not saying no. I just… want to think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”

Nigel swallowed, staring into the steam. The panic was still there, but muted, tethered by the warmth in his hands and the quiet ritual Adam had forced on him. He gave a faint nod, though his jaw worked like he wanted to argue.

Nigel leaned forward, elbows on his knees and putting his mug back down on the coffee table. He didn’t trust his hands not to shake. Adam wrapped both of his around his mug, drawing it close and letting the heat ground him. For a while, neither spoke once more. The city hummed faintly through the glass, a muted backdrop to their silence.

“You can’t keep doing this.” Adam whispered.

Nigel’s head lifted, a flicker of irritation tightening his jaw. “Doing what?”

“Deciding how things will end.” Adam’s eyes flicked toward him, steady despite the redness around their edges. “You tell yourself I’ll leave. That you’ll lose me. You use that fear as proof, as if it’s already happened, but it hasn’t. I’m still here.”

Adam pressed forward, his voice gaining strength. “I’m not Gabi. I’m me, and I’m telling you I’m not walking away.”

The name hung between them like a murky fog. Nigel flinched, eyes snapping to Adam, the muscles in his face twisting. “Don’t–”

“I have to,” Adam interrupted, his tone sharp but not cruel. “Because you keep bringing her into this. Every time we get into an argument, you compare me to her, and it’s not fair. Not to me, and not to us.”

“I’m not comparing you to her.”

“Yes, you are.” Adam’s hand tightened around the mug, his knuckles pale. “You don’t say her name every time, but I feel it. I know what she’s done, but I wouldn’t do that, Nigel. I can’t keep trying to prove to you that I’m not her.”

Nigel dragged his hands through his hair, exhaling harshly. “You don’t fucking understand. She–”

Adam cut him off, sharp and insistent. “I do understand.” His eyes glistened, his voice breaking at the edges. “If you keep pulling her into this, Nigel, that is what will make me leave. Not California. Not a job. Not anything else. This.”

The words struck hard, like the ground falling out from under Nigel. His lips parted, but nothing came.

Adam pressed on, softer now but no less steady. “I love you so much. I want this, but I won’t spend my life competing with her. I want to build with you, not against you.”

Nigel leaned back, feeling like the air had been knocked out of his chest. His throat burned, the weight of her name sitting heavy between them. He wanted to argue, to defend himself like he always did, but the pleading and raw look in Adam’s eyes made the words wither on his tongue.

He stared at his mug instead, finally lifting it once more with a trembling hand. The heat bit at his palms as he sipped, hibiscus tart on his tongue. He swallowed hard, lowering it again, his voice low and ragged. “I’m sorry, angel.”

“I forgive you.” Adam set his mug down and slid closer, his hand brushing Nigel’s. His touch was firm, grounding.

Nigel’s chest rose and fell unevenly, his eyes fixed on the table. He nodded, barely, because he couldn’t trust his voice not to break.

They lingered on the couch until Nigel’s tea cooled and Adam’s mug was empty. Both of them sat in silence, words running out but the air between them softer than before. Nigel kept sneaking glances at Adam, as if reassuring himself that he was still there, that he hadn’t walked out after all.

When Adam finally set his empty mug down, he sighed and leaned back into the cushions. His shoulder brushed Nigel’s, light but deliberate. “We should sleep.”

Nigel made a low sound of agreement. Sleep felt impossible with his head still buzzing, but the thought of curling up beside Adam outweighed the restless knot in his chest. Adam stood first, stretching, then offered his hand down.

Nigel hesitated a moment before taking it, letting himself be pulled up from the couch. Adam’s hand was warm and steady, his grip certain. He led him into the bedroom, the familiar space dimly lit by the glow of the city filtering through the blinds.

They stripped down to their underwear quietly, the soft rustle of fabric filling the silence. Adam slid under the covers first, pulling them up to his chin. Nigel followed, settling in beside him. For a beat, they just lay there, facing each other, the distance of a few inches feeling like an ocean.

Then Adam reached out, threading his fingers into Nigel’s. He tugged, a silent invitation. Nigel moved closer, fitting against him until there was no space left. Adam pressed his forehead to Nigel’s, his breath warm against his skin.

“I love you,” Adam whispered, a smile ghosting over his lips despite the weight of the night.

Nigel let out a shaky sigh that sounded like a sob, his arms sliding around Adam’s waist, pulling him tight. “I love you too, angel.”

Adam nestled into the crook of Nigel’s neck, his body relaxing into the warmth. Nigel smoothed a hand up into Adam’s curls, combing gently through them with slow, deliberate strokes. Adam let out a quiet, content sigh, his eyelids fluttering closed.

Without really thinking, Nigel’s voice rose in a low hum, and then words slipped free, soft and unhurried. Romanian, warm and lilting, filled the quiet space. It was an old lullaby, the kind his mother had sung to him when he was small.

„Nani, nani puişor,

Nani, nani puişor,

Până mâni la prânzişor,

Până mâni la prânzişor....”

The syllables curled around Adam like a blanket, foreign but soothing. Adam’s lips curved into a faint smile against Nigel’s chest.

“What are you singing?” he murmured, his voice already heavy with sleep.

“Shh, I’ll tell you in the morning.” Nigel whispered, kissing the top of his hair. He kept stroking, kept singing, the melody low and steady until Adam’s breathing evened out completely.

The world outside could spin itself into chaos, jobs, ghosts and old wounds waiting, but here in this bed, Adam was safe in his arms, and Nigel was safe in his. Nigel whispered the last line of the lullaby and let his own eyes drift closed, clinging to the softness of this moment. The warmth of the only person who had ever made him believe in staying sank deep into his bones, threatening to hollow them out.

Notes:

Translation for the traditional Romanian lullaby that Nigel sings (nani is a cute and informal way to tell someone to sleep):

Nani, nani my sweet tiny baby
Nani, nani my sweet tiny baby
Till tomorrow at noon
Till tomorrow at noon