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“Aw, man,” Adam says suddenly, “all the avocados are rotten.”
Lawrence twists his neck to get a look at him from where he was kneeling at the fridge. They'd just gone for their weekly grocery shopping and were almost finished putting the food away. Adam has been taking advantage of all the quality meals Lawrence tends to buy, like the aforementioned avocadoes. “Really? That's a shame.”
Adam dumps the bag of depressing dark fruit into the trash. “It's gotta be illegal for them to sell us that, right? Like false advertising?”
Lawrence can't help but laugh. “Adam, you picked out the bag. You chose the rotten ones.”
“How was I supposed to tell? They all look the damn same to me.” Adam pouts. “And I was looking forward to your famous avocado-egg toast for breakfast, too.”
“I'll swing by the store tomorrow on my way to work,” he promises, because he hates to see Adam anything other than happy. “I got those little chocolate oatmeal packets you like, so you can have that instead.”
Adam's face lights up. “Oh, sweet! You're the best, Larry.”
And Lawrence can't help but feel a flicker of fondness sparking in his chest, and he tries his best to go back to stacking sour cream on top of the Kraft singles in the refrigerator.
He's had this for a while now, this…attraction to Adam. After he got out of the game and babbled nonsense to the poor nurse at the hospital who'd been with him when he woke up, she'd eventually figured out that he was talking about the other victim, and the cops had soon found a dehydrated Adam passed out in the bathroom. They'd met again in the hospital, and immediately bonded now that they weren't on a deadly time limit. And when Adam got kicked out of his shitty old apartment complex, well, who was Lawrence to deny him a roof over his head?
So they'd been living together for a little over a month now, and besides the everlasting smell of cigarettes and tendency to get orange Cheezie powder all over his nice couches, Adam's been a model roommate. They both like Japanese takeout, terrible movies, and classic rock music, and spent most of their free evenings on the couch eating, talking and making fun of said terrible movies.
Unfortunately, this habit has left the living room looking like the site of a natural disaster, much to their chagrin when they finished putting away the groceries and came there looking to relax.
Adam looks up at him tiredly. The smudged eyeliner under his pale eyes makes the bags look deeper than they really are. “You're not gonna make me clean that up tonight, are you?”
Lawrence sighs, running a hand over his jaw. “No, no I won't. It's fine. We can worry about that tomorrow.”
“Due tomorrow, do tomorrow,” Adam quotes, then grins when Lawrence stares down at him quizzically. “Was my motto back in high school.”
“That explains a lot.”
“Hey!” Adam swats him playfully, beaming. “Shut up, you. We can't all have PhDs, Mr. Brilliant Genius Surgeon Man.”
“And I think you like that I have a PhD, Mr. Doesn't Pay Rent.”
Adam opens his mouth to shoot back a fiery retort, but then shuts it again. “Okay, got me there. Wanna just watch TV in your bedroom? I'm totally beat.”
Lawrence swallows. The only way to view the television in his room is from the bed. Which isn't weird for friends to do, of course, but he definitely does not view the other man in a particularly friendly way and it's very possible he could be the one making things weird. Then again, he's never been one to pass up an opportunity. Not that anything is going to happen, of course. “Sure, yeah, let's go.”
They get to his room, which is tidy, minimalist, and a complete contrast to Adam's just down the hall, which is swimming in clothes, stinking of pot and aftershave, and has walls so plastered in posters you can't tell what colour they were originally painted. Lawrence doesn't mind at all, instead finds it charming and even wishes he could abandon this whole spotless doctor mentality and find the gall to put up a movie poster or two above his desk.
Adam inelegantly jumps onto the bed, bouncing a little, and gets himself comfortable against the pillows by the headboard. “Your mattress is softer than mine,” he complains, just to complain.
“I'm an old man with back problems,” Lawrence counters, steadily lowering himself onto the bed in an attempt not to bother his prosthetic. “You’re still young and spry. You can handle a slightly thinner mattress.”
“Mean,” Adam bites back, but doesn't say anything further. Lawrence fishes around for the remote in his bedside drawer and clicks on the television. He sifts through channels for a while until he finds one that looks promisingly low-budget, and settles there. It's some kind of tropey romance movie—big city girl moves back to her old small country town, childhood best friend is suddenly incredibly handsome, the works.
Beside him, Adam yawns and rests his cheek on Lawrence's shoulder. “I want that horse she's riding.”
Lawrence chuckles softly, careful not to disturb him from his place. “Yeah? Didn't take you for a horse guy.”
“God, I know. I used to be obsessed with them when I was little, though.” Adam changes his voice to a high British falsetto. “But Daddy dearest wouldn't buy me a pony.”
“Jesus,” Lawrence snorts. “That accent is frankly offensive.”
“Offensive? Real oppressed the British are, eh?”
“They are now, with how awful that voice was.”
“Aww, poor little English boy. Cry me a river and go dump your tea in it,” Adam replies, snuggling closer.
Onscreen, the horribly bad actress falls off the horse with a scream, but is immediately caught by the horribly blond male love interest.
Adam shifts in his position. “That guy's really hot.”
Lawrence nearly chokes on his breath, masking it with a cough. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” There's something heavier in Adam's tone, something warm and wanting. “He looks tall. Strong. Nice eyes, too. Guess I have a thing for that.”
“Guess so,” Lawrence echoes weakly. And now that Adam's saying it, he's made painfully aware of how much the actor looks like him, with his neat dark blond hair, wide blue eyes, and impressive height, and God, now that little detail is going to be stuck in his head all night.
“What's your type, Lawrence?” Adam asks suddenly, and Jesus, is this man trying to kill him?
“Um, I—I’m not sure I've given it much thought,” Lawrence says lamely, which is only slightly true. After he and Alison split up last month, he's been trying to really work on himself. He'd been so busy between his job and married life, that he'd never gotten much of a chance to think about silly things like his type. “I guess someone nice. And uh, funny, too.”
“Nice and funny. Real soul-searching stuff, Lar.” Adam drones. “C'mon, give me something to work with.”
“Work with?” Lawrence repeats, quirking a brow.
“You know what I mean.”
He does not, in fact, know what he means, but tries to think of something better anyway. “Someone confident, I think. But not arrogant. Someone who knows what they want but won't belittle others for it.”
“Hmm.” Adam seems to think this over. “Big on personality, aren't you?”
Lawrence huffs out a laugh. “Sorry I'm not as superficial as you, kid.” He's a little reluctant to reveal his physical preferences, since they pretty much describe Adam to a T. “I suppose someone shorter than me. Dark hair is nice.” He pauses. “Pretty.”
Adam clears his throat, wiggling around a little. “Yeah, that's more like it.”
Lawrence shakes his head, smiling. He's not entirely sure what Adam's on about but he's enjoying it nonetheless. “You're so strange.”
“You love it.”
Yeah, Lawrence thinks, I do.
They watch the movie for a little longer—the woman is currently torn between her corporate office job paying the big bucks in the city, and her smaller job teaching little kids how to ride horses in the rural town her family lives in—when he notices Adam's yawns becoming more frequent and the weight on his side becoming heavier as the younger man slumps on him.
Lawrence rubs his thigh through his tacky Halloween-themed pajama pants to try and wake him up. “Want to just talk for a while?”
Adam seems to perk up at that. “Okay.”
He turns off the television and his attention to Adam. He looks so soft like this, sleepy and warm and happy, and can't resist snaking an arm around his slim waist to draw him closer. Friends do this all the time, he reasons, and he can lie here with Adam as much as he wants under the guise of normal friendship if prodded. “How was your day?” Lawrence asks, because otherwise his thoughts might consume him and he'd end up doing something insane like stroking his hair.
He can feel Adam's smile against his shoulder. “Pretty good. I went over to Scott's with a couple other guys and we mostly just played video games. How about you, doc? Save any lives today?”
Mirth sparkles in his eyes. Adam has the impression that his job is a lot fiercer (performing daily miracle surgeries) than it actually is (paperwork, paperwork, paperwork.) “Luckily, I didn't have to. No, I just did some paperwork,” (see?) “and then taught a college class in the afternoon. Showed them how to properly cut open a dummy.”
“Hey, I didn't know you operated on Scott.”
Lawrence rolls his eyes and pinches the fat on Adam's waist lightly, earning him a catlike hiss of annoyance and a swat on his thigh. Lawrence tries not to notice how it remains there.
“What's it like operating on people?” Adam inquires. “Like, I've seen people when they've been all sliced up and stuff, but how does it feel to actually do it?”
Lawrence pauses. He's not quite sure how to explain this without coming off as a sadist. Which he isn't. “Don't take this the wrong way, alright?” Adam nods. “For me, it's sort of relaxing. I don't have to make small talk besides giving orders, or worry about my family or anything else. I just have to focus on what I know comes easily to me. It feels good having that control, I suppose.”
“Knew you were a control freak,” Adam laughs, “even back in that bathroom. Always ordering me around the damn place.”
“To be fair, you needed it,” Lawrence reminds him. The Adam he'd first laid eyes on had closely resembled a drowned rat. A very cute drowned rat. “You looked a mess.”
“You'd like that, wouldn't you,” Adam mutters, something dark weighing down his words, then clears his throat again. “That makes sense. For you, I mean. I don't know if I'd like having that much power. I'd get too anxious and freak out and accidentally slit their throat with the scalpel or something, and then I'd get arrested and everyone would hate me.”
“Maybe it's a good thing you don't have a PhD, then.”
“Probably. I've never liked being in control, I guess. It's just easier to let someone else take over, and then if it all crashes down it's on them.” Adam laughs wryly. “Probably some deep-rooted insecurities there, but I don't really care enough to work them out.”
Lawrence begins to rub absent-minded circles into Adam's waist then. To comfort him. That was all. “That's not necessarily a bad thing, to not want that. Especially if you find someone who does, um, want it.”
Adam cranes his neck to look up at him under his black lashes, framing twin big pools of icy water. He could drown in those eyes and adore every fleeting second. “Like you.”
Lawrence’s mouth is very dry. He licks his lips. “Yeah, like me.”
Feeling bold, he dips his fingers under Adam's moth-eaten KMFDM shirt to slowly run a large palm up and down his side. Adam fidgets under the sudden contact with exposed skin, confused. “What’re you doing?”
“Just touching,” Lawrence murmurs. “Is that okay?”
Adam's eyes flutter closed, and he nods almost imperceptibly. He lets Lawrence pet him for a minute or two. And oh, his skin is soft. Even as Lawrence does his best to keep his mind blank, he can’t help but notice this fact. Buttery soft and warm from the blankets, and he can quickly feel himself becoming addicted to the feeling of it underneath his fingertips. “Feels nice,” Adam mumbles after a while, languor thick as honey in his voice.
“Yeah?” Lawrence prompts, dragging his fingers lazily down his hipbone. He feels drunk on this; the proximity, the freedom to finally touch a part of Adam he's only seen brief glimpses of—when the younger man gets out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips and hair curly and dripping down his bare chest, or when he's reaching for something high up on a shelf, offendedly baggy shirt riding up to expose his pale torso.
“Mm.” Adam shifts around, rubbing his legs together. “Big hands.”
The words send heat curling pleasantly in his stomach, and Lawrence slows his movements, instead resting his palm on the incline of his waist. “I don't think I'm so much big,” he says, amused, “as much as you are short.”
“Not short,” Adam retorts automatically, indignant and probably used to this kind of teasing. “Average.”
“You're small, too,” Lawrence continues, tracing the outline of his frame, light as a dragonfly with his fingernail. He swears he feels Adam shiver. “Little. Defenseless.” He's definitely exaggerating there, he's a fully grown man and Lawrence has watched him kill someone with his own eyes, but judging by Adam's reactions it's a welcome stretch of the truth.
“Oh, come on. I’m not defenseless,” Adam argues, typically stubborn. “You know better than anyone that I put up a good fight.”
“I could pick you up and throw you, sweetheart,” Lawrence whispers, low and rough from lack of sleep, right in his ear.
With that, something seems to break in Adam, and he whines high-pitched in the back of his throat. “Please, please, please—”
“Shh, baby. I'm here. It's alright,” Lawrence soothes, tucking a dark curl behind his ear with his free hand. “Tell me what you want me to do. Use your words.”
“Want you to touch me,” Adam practically sobs, bringing his knees closer to his stomach where he's lying on his side and pressing his thighs together. “Want you to make me feel good.”
The heat in his stomach is set ablaze into full-on arousal, and Lawrence can hardly believe this is happening, that he's been lucky enough to have this gorgeous boy begging beside him for things he's been fantasizing about doing for months now.
“I can do that,” Lawrence says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and breathing in the soft curls. They smell like green apple shampoo, Lawrence's shampoo, and the thought sends a fresh wave of possessiveness through him. “Where do you want me?”
“Everywhere, God, please just touch me,” Adam pleads. He's fully pressed up against Lawrence's side now, and he can feel him hard and hungry against his thigh. “Wanted this for so long, fuck, wanted you so bad.”
“Needy boy,” Lawrence croons, trailing his hand up under his shirt to rub over his nipple. Adam whimpers and buries his face in Lawrence's neck. “How long were you thinking about it, hm? Getting yourself all worked up?”
“Since I told you we could go to your bedroom, shit, and I knew this was my chance,” Adam confesses, gasping with every swirl over his peaked nipple. “Fuck, you're good. As good as I imagined.”
“And you're sensitive,” Lawrence notes. His face flushes at the thought of Adam imagining this, and he pinches him with his thumb and forefinger. Adam wails, the sound making his cock twitch in his too-tight pants. “Good to know.”
He moves on to the other nipple until Adam is a squirming mess beside him, panting hot and heavy into his neck. Lawrence brings his hand back to its original place on his waist. “Pretty,” he observes, and Adam preens under the praise.
Lawrence has never been one to hold his tongue when it comes to compliments, but has kept them strictly personality-based for the run of their whole friendship. You know, like a gentleman. Now he's able to tell Adam everything he admires about him, and the freedom dizzies him. God, he's so whipped. “Come here. Let me kiss you properly.”
Adam's glad to obey and swings one leg over to straddle him on his lap, surging up to meet him halfway. Adam, expectedly, goes in with tongue straight away, licking past the seam of his lips with an obvious sort of passion Lawrence rarely sees in him. Lawrence kisses back, exploring the heat of his mouth to match his fervour playfully, and drinks in all of the delicious noises Adam is making.
It's getting harder (pun not intended, he thinks dryly,) to ignore the way Adam keeps grinding down against him, desperately chasing any kind of friction he can get, and Lawrence separates them with a string of saliva connecting their lips, gently placing his hands on his hips to still them. Adam furrows his brow, clearly not pleased with this new turn of events.
“Eager, are we?” he hums. “What are we thinking?”
Adam grins slyly, leaning in to lick Lawrence's lips. “That I want you to fuck me.”
He tries to ignore the bolt of electricity that sparks in his veins at that. And of course he wants that, but it wasn't long ago they were just two friends and mutual kidnapping survivors buying a carton of skim milk at the grocery store, and he wants to make sure Adam understands the extent of what they're doing. “That seems quite fast.”
“Don't care.” Adam tries to grind down again but Lawrence's strong grip has him trapped. “Need you inside of me.”
“Hmm.” Lawrence studies him. His fluffy hair is tousled and his lips are spit-slicked and parted, eyes gone impossibly dark. He brings a hand up to card through his soft hair. Playing with his food. “Maybe later. Want to have fun with you first.”
“Tease,” Adam grumbles, then has to bite back a moan when Lawrence pulls sharply at the roots of his hair. “Je-esus, okay, fine. Whatever you want, dude.”
Lawrence laughs suddenly, fondness for the younger man lifting him out of the intensity of the scene. “Don't call me dude when we're having sex.”
“Oh, we're having sex now, are we?” Adam retorts sardonically. “I thought you were just having fun.”
“Sex is fun,” he points out, and sits up to tug Adam closer so he can press a kiss to his neck.
“Be a helluva lot more fun if you let me move,” Adam retorts, then takes in a breath when Lawrence nips warningly at his jawline.
He kisses up to his ear, where the silver helix piercing shines in the light, and takes his lobe between his teeth to tug lightly. “Isn't this nice?”
“No,” Adam gasps, although he doesn't sound very no right now. “Not nice. Boring.”
Lawrence hums against his neck. “Greedy thing. Be patient for me, okay?”
Adam screws his eyes shut. “Okay.”
“Good.” Lawrence kisses his pulse point and then nods to his stupid ratty old shirt. “Take this off, will you?”
Adam brightens at that and hastily pulls it off, getting his arms hopelessly tangled in the garment in the process. Lawrence can't help but laugh as he helps him out of it. “Survive a Jigsaw trap and you end up stuck in a T-shirt.”
Adam shoots a glare at him. His skin is flushed pink all over, and it's hard not to openly ogle him, though he's sure Adam wouldn't mind. “Don't mention Jigsaw when we're having sex. Or, like, fun, or whatever the fuck you wanna call this.”
“Fair enough.” Lawrence smirks and leans in to suck a bruise right on his pulse point. Adam moans wantonly and jerks his head away to give him more access.
He paints the canvas of his alabaster skin in mulberry markings while Adam moans and breathes unsteadily above him, holding the back of his head steady and tugging the golden strands there like a lifeline. He trails down his collarbone and over to the starburst bullet exit scar on his shoulder, placing a gentle kiss there, and Adam's grip on his hair tightens.
Lawrence sits back to admire his work, running his hands up and down his bare waist. “Beautiful,” he tells him, and watches his blush deepen.
“Sap.” But Adam's touch softens, the hand on Lawrence’s shoulder coming up to cup at his cheek, and he leans in to kiss him more tenderly this time. They stay like that for a while, kissing until Lawrence’s mouth aches, until his tongue is dry, until he can’t help but laugh against Adam’s lips, joy spilling out of him, making his face feel warm.
“What is it?” Adam asks, pulling away.
Lawrence smiles, presses another kiss to his lips, just because he can. “I’m very happy right now,” he says honestly.
Adam rolls his eyes. “You’re such an idiot.” He's unable to mask the adoration in his voice, still a terrible actor.
Lawrence beams at him, then leans in, kissing his nose, his cheeks, his tiny freckles, until Adam is giggling too, batting at his chest in protest. “Oh my God!”
“What?” Lawrence chuckles, and tugs him in for another kiss, a proper one this time.
Adam melts against him, his whole body sagging against Lawrence's chest. They move their lips together until they’re both panting again, and when they separate Adam looks completely dazed, looks like a damn good dream.
Lawrence moves his hands down the small of his back to the slope of his ass and squeezes. “Want to give you everything,” he says, hoarse from the kissing and raw with need. “Anything you want.”
Adam's smile turns wolfish and he edges himself closer, rubbing against Lawrence filthily and making him see stars. “Really?”
Lawrence's eyes go lidded, and he nods. “You've earned it.”
“I've been very patient,” Adam agrees innocently, rocking down again and grinning sharper when Lawrence groans under his breath, “and I think that deserves a little more fun, don't you?”
Lawrence’s gaze shadows and he grabs Adam's hips again to stop him, fingers digging into the flesh tight enough to bruise, and Adam bites his lower lip fetchingly. “Someone's rather sure of himself. Have you forgotten who's in control here?”
Adam screws up his face. “You sound like a dom in a bad BDSM porno—hey!”
In an instant, Lawrence throws him off his lap and gets up onto his knees, hovering over Adam who's now sprawled out on his back very enchantingly on the blankets, dark hair surrounding his head like a halo.
“Missionary,” Adam says, looking up at him between shaky breaths, “you're either vanilla as fuck or a romantic dumbass.”
Lawrence bends over instead of responding to meet his lips, tasting cigarettes and cinnamon gum, devouring him in a sloppy kiss that's more spit than anything. He pulls away leaving Adam breathless. “I'll let you figure that out for yourself.”
“Looking forward to it.” Adam eyes his chest meaningfully. “You gonna strip or do I gotta do everything myself?”
Lawrence raises an eyebrow, so Adam takes initiative and begins unbuttoning his blue pinstripe shirt and tugs it off, grinning at all the exposed skin. “Looking good, Doctor Gordon.”
And Lawrence is far too old to be insecure of the way he looks, certainly, but it's more that he simply doesn't factor it in anymore. It's the body he uses to move and touch and cut, nothing more. To hear someone else thinking it's handsome is surprisingly comforting.
And since he’s being good, Lawrence decides Adam's struggled long enough and dips his fingers below the waistband of both his pants and boxers to drag his thumb slowly, savouringly, over his leaking head.
Adam moans and throws his head back, and if the sight before was enough to make Lawrence dizzy, this is enough to make him feel like he’s in bloody free fall. He pulls his hand out and manhandles his hips up off the mattress so he can pull off the garments and throws them somewhere to the floor.
Adam is always beautiful, but he's utterly stunning now, bare and exposed with his pale skin glowing like moonlight. Adam watches his with big eyes gone completely black with desire as Lawrence unzips his pants for some much-needed relief, boxers straining to contain his insistent erection. He tugs those off too and discards them with the rest of the clothes, putting aside the need for neatness with the need to get off very very soon.
Adam must like what he sees because when Lawrence finally settles on the bed Adam goes pink and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He reaches out and takes him in hand to give him one long, experimental stroke. Lawrence groans and tilts his head back, and Adam's grin grows ever wider. “Oh, this is gonna be so fuckin’ awesome. You got lube in here, babe?”
“Y-yeah.” Lawrence swallows and looks up at the ceiling, trying to regain his composure. “Bottom drawer.”
“Hey, you remember that thing I said in the bathroom?” Adam says, bending down to rummage through the drawer. Lawrence admires the view unashamedly. “Well, I think this is gonna be the most fun I've had with lubricant.”
It clicks and Lawrence pinches the bridge of his nose, exasperated. “God, you're so—”
“Sexy?”
“...Not the word I was going to use, but sure, that too.”
Adam bares his teeth sunnily at him and then cheers when he finds the lubricant, popping it open and squeezing a generous amount into his palm. “Woah, half-empty? You been thinking about someone special, Larry?”
Lawrence doesn't get the chance to respond because now Adam is taking him in his small fist and slicking him up with the lubricant. The sight of his hand, delicate with nails coated in chipped black polish, wrapped filthily around his cock is enough to fuel his imagination for the rest of his life. Adam's terribly good at this, twisting his hand on the upstroke and thumbing over the vein with an added pressure that has his brain turning to mush and leaking out of his ears. “So you're big everywhere,” Adam whispers aweingly, as if that wasn't already enough.
Eventually Lawrence has to stop him because he's reaching an end embarrassingly quickly. “Adam, that's enough.”
Adam smirks and stops moving, but then leans down to drag his pink tongue across the precum beading on his slit, and Lawrence swears and knots a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck to yank him off. “Christ, you brat, I told you that's enough.”
“Sorry,” Adam murmurs, eyes glazed over. He doesn't sound very sorry at all. “Wanted to taste you.”
And hell, if that doesn't send shockwaves of arousal right down to his cock. “I didn't give you permission, did I?”
Adam looks up at him through his long lashes, sultry. “You gonna punish me?”
“Want to find out?”
“Hmm.” Adam presses a wet kiss to the tip of his cock and pulls off quickly before Lawrence can grab him again, smiling devilishly. “Maybe. But now I really wanna suck you off. Do you think you can go again?”
“Old man, remember?”
“Damnit.” Adam pouts prettily. “Another time.”
“Yeah.” Lawrence runs a thumb over Adam's lips, bitten red and puffy, and Adam parts them almost instinctively. He slips it inside and Adam closes around it, suckling hot and wet on the pad.
“Yeah,” Lawrence says again, gravel thick in his voice, and feeds him his index and middle fingers too. “Going to look so pretty taking my cock in your mouth, baby.”
Adam makes a pleased hum at that, sending vibrations around his fingers, and dips forward to take them all the way to the knuckle, scraping the back of his throat.
“Jesus.” Lawrence shakes his head. “You're something else. How did I get so lucky?”
Adam pulls off with a pop, wiping his mouth and clearing his throat. “By getting really really unlucky first?”
Instead of retorting, Lawrence presses his wet pointer finger against one of the blotched bruises on Adam's neck, hard and harsh just to hear him cry out in a pained way that makes Lawrence's cock twitch where it's trapped between them. Adam notices and scoffs, flushed all over. “Goddamn sadist.”
“And if you don't want to see it again, you're going to do as I say,” Lawrence says sweetly, tone dark and dripping honey and venom, and brushes feather-light over the bullet scar like a warning. Adam makes a small noise he likes at the back of his throat and goes very quiet.
Then Lawrence pecks his cheek and sits up. “Now, get yourself stretched and ready while I take off my prosthetic.”
“But I wanted you to do it,” Adam complains. “All those prostate examinations you do on patients. Wanted to see what they pay you the fat stacks for.”
“It's not nearly as sexual as you're imagining, Adam,” Lawrence says with a roll of his eyes as he undoes the straps on his false foot.
Adam scrunches up his nose, squeezing out more lube. “Still. Take that thing off fast ‘cause I bet you're good with your hands.”
Lawrence watches with rapt attention as Adam spreads his legs and begins slowly fingering himself with his pointer. Adam notices and makes a face. “Thanks for the help, man. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Sorry. Just like watching you,” he says truthfully, and finally gets his prosthetic off. He limps towards the bed in a dreadfully unsexy manner and comes back to position himself over Adam’s chest, then reaches up to grab a pillow from the pile near the top of his bed. “Here,” he says, handing it to Adam. “For your hips, if you want.”
Slowly, Adam takes the pillow, a grin breaking out over his face.
Lawrence cocks his head to the side, confused. “What?” He asks.
Adam says nothing, just props himself up on his elbows and leans in, planting a kiss on the tip of his nose. “Nothing,” he says. “Now come on. I’m tired of waiting.”
Adam places the pillow underneath his tailbone, and Lawrence helps guide his leg up towards his shoulder, placing a kiss on his ankle as he does, which makes Adam giggle.
“You’ll tell me if I hurt you, alright?” Lawrence asks quickly, looking up at him. “Or if I do something wrong?”
“Lawrence,” Adam says, his tone firm yet kind. “I trust you. You know I do.”
The words settle warm in his heart, and he nods, leaning down to press another kiss against his forehead before slicking up his fingers. Adam watches the whole process with rapt attention, eyes coming to meet Lawrence’s as he positions himself carefully over his hole, fingers just barely pressing against the entrance.
With a great deal of care, Lawrence begins to push the first finger inside. Adam’s breath hitches, but he relaxes around him a few moments later, working himself down onto his finger with ease. “More,” he demands breathlessly. “More, Lawrence, please.”
Lawrence nods, pushing another finger in, completely overwhelmed by how tight Adam is, how amazing he feels. He wasn’t gonna last very long when he was inside him if this was already causing him to unravel. He presses his fingers deeper, past the knuckle, and Adam moans, his face flushed pink and shining with sweat. Lawrence watches, completely enraptured, and flexes his fingers, feeling the way he tenses around him.
Adam reaches out a hand, grabbing for the bedsheet and bunching it up in his grasp. “Please, please,” he repeats senselessly, head arching back, exposing the pale column of his throat.
Lawrence’s breathing stutters as Adam looks up at him, eyes glassy and dark beneath the half-moon of his eyelids. It’s almost frightening, the way Adam is making him feel right now. Lawrence didn’t even think people were supposed to feel like this. He certainly never had before. It feels almost monstrous, gigantic, how badly he wants him. Like it’s transforming him from the inside out.
Momentarily overcome, he leans forward and presses his lips against Adam’s, parting them easily with his tongue and kissing him deeply. He keeps their mouths together as he slides his third finger in, swallowing Adam’s gasp. Adam throws an arm over Lawrence’s shoulder and begins rocking his hips shallowly, adjusting to the stretch.
“You’re---ha, ” Adam begins when they part, letting out a shaky laugh. “You’re better than I imagined.”
Lawrence presses their foreheads together, like they did pressed against each other in the bathroom, a smile overtaking his face. “You are too,” he says. “And I imagined it. A lot.”
“Oh, I know I am,” Adam says, grinning.
Lawrence scoffs. Despite the fact that Adam is open and willing beneath him, Lawrence still got the sense that their push and pull hadn’t ceased, that Adam would just as easily come apart for him as he’d turn around and flip the dynamic, reminding Lawrence of just how much power he held. It was so typical, Lawrence can’t help but smile. What wasn’t typical, however, is that usually when Adam got like this, Lawrence didn’t have his fingers inside of him, and he couldn’t shift his position ever so slightly and leave Adam breathless, his hips rocking more rhythmically now, silently begging for more.
Feeling satisfied, Lawrence slowly removes his fingers, which earns him a sharp glare from Adam. Then, Adam sees him squirt some more lube onto his hand, spreading it down along the length of his cock, and the look on his face changes. His eyes flit back up to meet Lawrence’s as Lawrence brings his other hand up to cup Adam’s jaw, keeping their eyes locked as he moves to position himself in front of his hole again.
“Go on then,” Adam mutters impatiently, but Lawrence can hear a small tremor in his voice betraying him.
“I’ve got you,” Lawrence reassures, and Adam seems to weaken at the words, his expression opening up into something more tender, more vulnerable. “You're going to be alright. I've got you.”
“I know,” he murmurs.
Lawrence adjusts his posture, but doesn’t break eye contact as he slowly starts to slide in, the tip of his cock breaching his entrance with little resistance. Adam’s eyes slide shut, mouth parting as Lawrence presses himself in deeper. Lawrence shivers, the warm, tight pressure making his entire body feel hypersensitive, to the point where he has to stall his movement, just so he doesn’t lose himself entirely.
“How—how far in are you?” Adam manages to ask, already sounding completely worked over.
Lawrence’s thumb rubs comforting circles along his cheekbone. “About halfway,” he says, and Adam opens his light eyes to stare at him incredulously.
“Halfway?” He grits, then shuts his eyes again, throwing his elbow over his face. “God, you are such a dick. With your big stupid dick.”
“Don't call my dick stupid, stupid,” Lawrence laughs, bending down to kiss Adam’s cheek before finally removing his hand. He brings it down to Adam’s hip instead, resting just above the swell of his ass. “We can stop, if you want,” Lawrence offers, though he's praying the other man doesn't.
Adam peeks out from under his elbow, glaring at him. “Don’t you dare,” he insists. “Come on, deeper. I want it. I want it so bad.”
Lawrence nods, almost frantically, and uses his hand to raise Adam’s hips up a bit, shifting his position so he can slide in further. Adam makes a punched out sound as Lawrence finally bottoms out inside of him, clenching around him in a way that makes Lawrence’s limbs feel like they’re on fire. “Jesus, you feel amazing,” he breathes, forcing his body to still, not wanting to give Adam too much too soon.
As if sensing his hesitancy, Adam hooks his arm around Lawrence’s back, hand splaying out across his shoulder blade, almost like he’s hugging him. “Move, Lawrence. Please,” he says, and Lawrence never could say no to him.
Lawrence begins grinding his hips forward, picking up a steady pace as Adam’s breaths turn into gasps turning into high, breathy whines. It's so good, maddeningly good. He could easily become an addict to this, the wet, slick heat pressing all around him, the delicious sounds of the younger man under him as Adam’s neck arches back.
It exposed the palette of bruises patterned all over his neck, and he looks good. He looks marked, and the thought sends a pleasant shiver right down his spine. “You look so beautiful right now. You look like you're mine.”
“Fuck,” Adam sobs out, hands tangling useless in the bedsheets as Lawrence picks up the speed. “Oh hell, I'm close already.”
“That's alright,” he pants as he fucks into him. “I might—might be as well.”
“Yeah?” Adam grins maniacally. There's a line of drool coming from his lips, which makes him want to do something insane like lick it off right then. Then again, that's certainly not the most insane thing he's done tonight. “You gonna come so soon? Please, I wanna feel it.”
“You're going to be the death of me,” he mumbles, and sets to work trying to hit his prostate on every thrust. It seems to be working coming from the fact that Adam has stopped running his mouth, instead whimpering pathetically into the crook of his elbow.
“Fill me up so well,” Adam says blearily. “Want - uh, want to feel your cum inside me, please, please.”
Lawrence groans, feeling his own orgasm swell inside of him with startling speed. He slows his rhythm but keeps the thrusts firm, hitting his prostate with every drive of his hips. “God, sweetheart,” he exhales, less of a sentence and more of a sound.
“Lawrence,” Adam responds, like he’s filling in a blank.
Lawrence shudders, his hand pressing firmly into the valley of his hip, just below his stomach.
“I’m all yours, Adam, come on,” Lawrence soothes. “I’ll take care of you.”
Adam’s back arches up and he’s gone, painting his stomach with streaks of white.
Lawrence is only a moment behind him, his thrusts coming to a shuddering stop as he finishes inside of Adam, brain giving way to a delirious, blinding heat as the pleasure snakes through his whole body and leaves him a single breath, emptying him completely. He does his best not to collapse on top of him, but Adam catches most of his weight all the same, allowing Lawrence to lie down heavily against his chest.
He presses a kiss to the side of Lawrence’s head, a hand immediately coming up to tangle in his sandy-blond hair. “So fucking good for me, Lawrence,” he breathes. “So perfect.”
Lawrence flushes at the words, pressing his face into Adam’s shoulder. “Stop,” he mutters, not meaning it.
Adam’s hand tugs at his hair, and Lawrence gasps, allowing his head to be pulled back so Adam can look him in the eye. “You are,” Adam insists, the hand turning gentle, petting. His lips quirk up into a smile. “And pretty, too.”
Lawrence chuckles, bumping his nose against Adam’s jaw. “Coming from you, now that's a compliment.”
Adam just hums, and allows Lawrence to lie back down on top of him, their chests pressed together. The aftermath of his orgasm has left him feeling completely worn out, but even then, Lawrence soon becomes aware of the cum smeared between them, not to mention the fact that he still hasn’t even pulled out yet. “Alright, come on,” he mutters, (‘come on’ being the key issue).
Adam groans as Lawrence slowly separates them. The second he’s out, Adam tries to tug him back down, which Lawrence valiantly resists. “No, Adam, we have to clean up.”
“Why?” Adam demands, adjusting himself against the pillows. He’s getting used to me not being inside him, Lawrence realizes, and immediately pushes that thought aside, already knowing the kind of impact it will have on his post-coital brain.
“Because we are very gross right now and we will be even grosser if we don't wash off.”
“You like me gross,” Adam says, sticking out his tongue. Quickly, Lawrence catches it in a slow, languid kiss, and separates them with a smile.
“Yes, I do.”
Lawrence does end up getting them a washcloth, and besides some stains on the sheets that will definitely need to be laundered out, they clean themselves off pretty well. Adam lazes in bed the whole time, and when he comes back after discarding the cloth in the laundry bin, he opens his arms up, beckoning for Lawrence to join him.
Lawrence grins, flopping back down on top of him and laying his head on his chest, directly above his heart. Adam immediately wraps his arms around his broad shoulders, holding him there in a tight embrace.
“You’re clingy after sex,” Lawrence remarks, unable to hide how much he loves it in his tone.
“You love it.”
He laughs. “Mind reader.”
“No. I just know you,” Adam says plainly. “I know you better than anyone else.”
Lawrence nods, feeling the weight of Adam’s gaze bore into him. He’s sure there’s more beneath the surface that Adam has yet to disclose, but Lawrence doesn’t want to push. He wants to make Adam feel safe. As safe as he makes him feel. “I meant what I said before, you know,” he says softly. “Whatever you want, Adam.”
“And what about what you want?”
Lawrence shrugs, offering him a smile. “I thought that was obvious,” he says. “Adam, I want you. That’s not going to change.”
Adam blinks, eyes going watery. Before Lawrence can open his mouth to speak again, Adam is surging forward, capturing his lips in a crushing kiss. It doesn’t feel like any of the last times. This time, it feels like Adam is trying to speak to him, like he’s putting everything he can’t say into the press of his lips, the soft slide of his tongue. Lawrence wraps an arm around Adam’s neck, holding him closer, and when they break apart, Lawrence realizes his eyes have gone damp too.
Still keeping their hands locked together, Lawrence kisses Adam over and over, already struggling to comprehend the fact that there was a time only a few hours ago where he wasn’t getting to do this whenever he wanted. What a miserable existence. Lawrence feels incredibly sorry for his past self.
Lawrence isn’t sure how long they stay there. Night has long since slipped into dawn and the sky outside the window is pale lavender. When Adam turns around again and takes Lawrence’s face in his hands, Lawrence is struck with the understanding that, once he steps outside of this room, it will be into a world that has irrevocably changed. Maybe no one else will notice, but Lawrence is certain he will. As long as he isn’t alone, though, he figures he can handle it.
For now, he stays, and kisses Adam again, and again, and again, until their bodies fall into each other once more and time slips out of their grasps, carried away as easily as the breeze, leaving only warmth in its wake.