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Adam doesn’t hear Lawrence get out of the shower: his attempt to knit a sock is currently taking up all of his attention, and the world around him is drowned out by the sweet, sweet sounds of Linkin Park. He managed to finish a slightly misshapen scarf last month (Lawrence wears it proudly, albeit tied in such a way that the dropped stitches are hidden inside the collar of his coat) and Adam is determined to show his therapist some sort of progress, even if it’s in the form of a lumpy green tube. So, it’s a bit of a surprise when there’s movement in the corner of his eye and he catches Lawrence, naked but for a towel wrapped around his waist, leaning on his crutches in the doorway of his bedroom watching Adam. His mouth moves. Adam tosses his knitting needles on the coffee table with a clack and turns off his Walkman.
“Say that again?”
Lawrence shakes his head and looks away with a faint smile. The heat from the shower stains his cheeks with a pink flush that spreads down his neck, between the coarse blond hair that covers his chest, and just barely grazes the top of the soft pudge of his stomach. Adam doesn’t hide the way his eyes track the lines and curves of Lawrence’s body.
“I said, ‘why are you looking at me like that?’” Lawrence says. He’s looking at Adam with a sardonic expression, like he can’t believe that Adam would be checking him out. Maybe he can’t.
This thing between them is new, after all. They still fight (often) but they always come back together. At first, every visit seemed to end in a fight, with Lawrence coldly shutting him out and Adam throwing something and then storming away. But eventually the fighting turned into talking, and both of their prickly protective shells chipped away to reveal the men underneath, and those men couldn’t be without each other. Meeting for lunch at a café became dinner and a movie, and dinner and a movie became Adam sleeping over at Lawrence’s apartment for days at a time. It was only a matter of time before they fell into bed together. And when they did, it was wonderful. It was perfect. It was Lawrence, who knew him better than anybody ever had before. And yet, they’ve only fucked a handful of times since then, even with Adam officially moving in over a month ago.
“Looking at you like what?” Adam says. “Like you’re really fucking hot?” Lawrence grimaces and looks like he’s about to say something self-deprecatory about how he’s an ugly old man with one foot. Adam puts a stop to it before he can start. “Because I don’t know if you’re aware of this, Doctor Gordon, but you’re really hot, and if you don’t put some clothes on soon I’m going to get so wet I soak right through my jeans and all over your fancy couch.”
He leans back as he says it, spreads his legs a little. He’s hoping Lawrence will drop down on the couch beside him and let Adam bury his face in his lap. Nothing has ever felt as good as the drag of his stubble against the soft warmth of Lawrence’s tummy, except maybe the way his cock fits in Adam’s mouth like a key in its lock. Last time, he brought Lawrence off in barely a minute, and while Lawrence seemed mortified, Adam was too busy rubbing his wet cunt against Lawrence’s thigh and showing Lawrence how to stroke his dick just right.
But this time, instead of limping over the couch, Lawrence turns and says over his shoulder, “Guess I’d better put some clothes on.”
“Don’t you dare!” Adam jumps up and follows Lawrence to the bedroom.
“Why are you so difficult?” Lawrence is already sat on the bed, crutches discarded on the floor, his remaining foot already halfway into the leg of his horrible, striped, old-man pyjama pants.
Adam scoffs. “I’m difficult?”
Lawrence glares at him. “I don’t want your pity.”
“What pity? I don’t pity you. You’re a fucking mini-Jigsaw! You stuck a key behind a man’s eye last month!”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Yeah, it bothers me!” Adam can feel the familiar anger rise; they’ve had this fight before. But instead of throwing one of Lawrence’s kitchen chairs, this time Adam pushes Lawrence back on the bed and straddles his half-clothed lap. “I hate you for it, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting you.”
Lawrence stills, hands coming up to rest on Adam’s hips. “You don’t owe me anything. You can leave.”
Adam knocks their foreheads together. They collide a little bit harder than he intended and he blinks away stars while he holds Lawrence’s face in place so he can tell him, with no hint of doubt: “I don’t want to leave. I want you to fuck me.”
Lawrence groans and kisses him, gripping his hips tight and pulling Adam down so his jeans rub against the damp towel around Lawrence’s waist.
“I want you so bad,” Lawrence says between kisses.
“Yeah,” Adam pants. “Yeah, c’mon—“ He pulls the towel away and gets a hand between them to roll Lawrence’s soft cock against his palm. “Gonna get you so hard, gonna sit on every inch of it and take you so deep—“
“Adam, wait—“
Adam drops to his knees, unbuttoning his jeans and getting a hand on himself through his boxers. He noses at the root of Lawrence’s cock, dragging his cheek against the rough hair that surrounds Lawrence’s still-soft cock.
“Adam!” Lawrence grabs him by the hair and pulls him away. Adam feels like a puppy, hauled up by the scruff of his neck. “Just—let me use my mouth. I’ll eat you out so good---“
“Do you need a Viagra?”
“No!” Lawrence splutters. “I’m not that old!”
Adam sits down criss-cross-applesauce on the floor. “There’s no shame in it, man. I got some if you want it.”
Lawrence sighs and runs a hand through his hair before dropping his head into his hands. His foot is still tangled in a flannel blue pant leg.
A terrible thought occurs to Adam. “Is it me?”
“No!” Lawrence slides off the bed and sits next to him on the floor. He reaches out to Adam but he’s not close enough, so Adam crawls into his arms. They sit there, holding each other, for a long time before Lawrence says, “I can’t stop thinking about how badly I hurt you.” He runs a thumb over Adam’s healed entry wound, a knotted pink circle of scar tissue. “I can’t touch you without thinking that I’m going to hurt you.” Lawrence drops his hands to his lap. “These hands—“
“Oh, stop being so dramatic!” Lawrence’s mouth drops open in surprise. Adam picks up one of Lawrence’s hands in his own. “Oh no, these are the hands of a killer, Adam!” He uses the hand as a particularly ineffective puppet to mime his point. “Boo hoo, you shot me. You also saved me, so they cancel each other out.”
“Are you telling me to get over it?” Lawrence deadpans.
“Yeah,” Adam says. “Now get on the bed, and let me blow your mind.”
Lawrence is on the bed, and Adam is determined to blow his mind. First, he’s going to make sure Lawrence knows that he’s the hottest thing Adam has ever seen. Second, he’s going to pull out all his best mind-melting tricks so that Lawrence will forget all about serial killers and bathrooms and gunshot wounds and only think about getting his rock-hard dick inside Adam’s pretty little cunt. (Plan B is riding Lawrence’s face until either a) Adam comes or b) Lawrence is on the verge of passing out from being smothered in pussy, whichever comes first).
“Are you sure I can’t do something?” Lawrence is leaning up on his elbows, watching Adam undress.
“Nope. I have a plan,” Adam says as he shimmies his jeans over his ass and lets them fall to the floor. He tosses his boxers at Lawrence. They land on his face, a perfect shot. Lawrence presses them against his face, inhaling deeply. “Dirty old man,” Adam laughs.
“You smell good.”
“You like my dirty boxers? Maybe I should slip some into your lunch bag. Give you something to remember me by when you’re working.”
Lawrence groans. He’s so weak for Adam’s dirty talk; it’s almost too easy. But his cock stays soft, and Adam starts in on Plan A: blowing Lawrence’s mind.
It’s nice to have Lawrence supplicant underneath him. He’s beautiful when he relinquishes control, and Adam kisses him, long and dirty, to show him just how beautiful he is. Adam breaks the kiss, mouthing down his neck and tugging his earlobe between his teeth. He licks and bites his way down to Lawrence’s chest, palming softly at his dick.
“It’s not going to happen, Adam.”
Adam would really just be content rubbing his face against Lawrence’s chest all day, sucking and nipping at the swell of his tits and drooling all over his chest, but there’s a whole naked Lawrence at his fingertips and Adam has new places to explore.
“Flip over?”
Lawrence complies, turning onto his stomach and allowing Adam to lift his hips and plant hot, open-mouthed kisses across the rise of his buttocks.
“I got something for us.” Adam playfully slaps Lawrence on the ass. He climbs over to his nightstand and roots around for the new tube of lube he bought at the drugstore last time he was out.
“I hope you’re going to give me a massage,” Lawrence says. He sounds sleepy, and that just won’t stand.
“It’s not a massage.”
“Oh. Why not?”
“Because I want to eat you out.”
Lawrence pushes himself up and turns around. “What?”
Adam shakes his head. “I want to eat you out.” Seeing Lawrence’s blank look, he adds: “Your ass. I want to eat your ass.”
“You—you want that?”
Adam shakes the bottle of lube at him. “This was supposed to be for you. It’s crème brûlée flavoured.” He grins. “Your ass is going to taste so good.”
“But I already like the way you taste.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re a dirty old man.” Adam squirts a glob of lube onto his fingertip. “Try this.” He holds his finger out for Lawrence to lick. He approaches it tentatively before giving Adam’s finger the daintiest of licks.
“Oh,” Lawrence says. He takes Adam’s finger in his mouth and sucks it clean. “It really does taste like crème brûlée.”
“Glad it’s authentic. Now excuse me, I’m about to try crème brûlée for the first time via your perfect ass."
“You’re sure you want to do this?”
“Do you not? We can do something else. I can try to give you a massage.”
“No! I—I want to. The thought of you doing… that to me. It’s—“ Lawrence’s voice has gone husky and low. “I want it.”
Adam could make him suffer, could make him say exactly where he wants Adam’s tongue, but Lawrence’s mind is already halfway to blown and Adam’s so wet that when he presses his thighs together, they slip against each other with no resistance.
He kneels behind Lawrence. Adam can see the tense muscles in his back, the way he braces himself on his elbows like he’s about to be beaten. Adam shakes his head. He can’t wait to bury his face between the soft globes of Lawrence’s perfect, round ass.
“How do you have such a perfect ass?” he asks, mostly to himself. Adam squeezes the bottle of lube, watching the caramel-coloured liquid dribble down Lawrence’s cleft.
Lawrence makes a soft sound when the cold liquid hits him, and, as usual, is unable to let the rhetorical question lie. “Ten years of being on my feet for twelve hours working in emergency, followed by eight sitting on my ass doing paperwork.”
Adam bites softly at one of Lawrence’s cheeks. “It’s really working for me, doc. You could sit on my face and suffocate me with this ass and I’d die a happy man.”
“Don’t joke about death, Adam.”
“Don’t think so much, Larry.” And then Adam descends on him, licking a long stripe from the back of Lawrence’s balls, right up to his caramel-flavoured hole. He licks all around it, getting Lawrence situated to the feeling and lapping up all the sweet flavour, coating his mouth in a saccharine sweetness that makes Lawrence taste like a rich dessert.
“This isn’t going to give me an infection, is it?” Lawrence asks. His voice sounds strained. Adam knows enough to tell when he’s trying to downplay his pleasure.
“It’s made for this. Just relax, man. Let yourself feel good.”
“Yes. Right. It feels good, Adam, it’s just… strange.”
“Well, I’m having a great time back here, but it would be even better if you at least pretended to make some sexy noises that let me know you’re into it.”
Lawrence sounds like he’s about to bite back, but Adam doesn’t let him. He grips Lawrence’s cheeks in both hands and prises them apart, giving him more space to work. He mouths over the skin in front of him and finally licks directly over Lawrence’s hole.
“Oh, Jesus Christ!”
Adam laughs. “Yeah, like that.” He licks again, then pauses to squirt out more lube, rubbing it all over the inner sanctum of Lawrence’s ass. “Delicious,” he murmurs, before burying his face in Lawrence’s ass and kissing his sweet little hole. Adam forgets all about Lawrence, instead focussing on his own pleasure as he drools and moans and laps up the sweet flavour until he’s left with the taste of Lawrence’s skin and soap and sweat. Adam loves this just as much; it’s the taste of life, the taste of Lawrence alive and writhing and finally letting out a steady litany of pants and moans that perform like Adam’s own private porno. Lawrence whimpers when Adam pulls away to catch his breath. His face is flushed a bright red, hair sweaty and dishevelled, and Adam can’t help but sprawl over Lawrence’s back and kiss him.
“God, Adam—“ Adam licks into his mouth, curling his tongue around Lawrence’s and licking the back of his teeth. He pulls away to catch his breath, and Lawrence takes the opportunity to grab Adam by the hair. He relishes the act of dominance, even moreso when Lawrence whispers, “Filthy boy,” and kisses him hard.
Adam groans into the kiss, meeting Lawrence’s lips with teeth and tongue. Lawrence’s tongue is somewhere near Adam’s molars and Adam can’t shake the image fucking Lawrence with his tongue. He bites at Lawrence’s mouth until his lips are red and swollen, and only then does he push Lawrence’s face away and go back to eating him out.
His entrance is slick with spit. One day, Adam will have Lawrence like this, pliant and panting and face down, fucking him open on his fingers. But for now, Adam’s tongue slides inside easy, like Lawrence’s body was waiting for him. He kneads at Lawrence’s ass, his hands digging into the plush flesh and squeezing, caressing, stroking.
“Oh, Adam!”
Adam doesn’t stop tonguing at Lawrence’s hole. His head swims from the lack of air, senses overwhelmed by the sweet taste of the lube mixed with the heady, masculine scent of Lawrence. He licks the flat of his tongue up the length of skin in front of him, tongue flickering over the ridged entrance. The hair around Lawrence’s hole is wet with the same spit that’s dripping down Adam’s chin, wet and sloppy and hot. Lawrence’s flailing hand catches Adam’s wrist and drags his hand down between Lawrence’s legs where he’s hot and hard and solid.
“Can I—ah, I want to—“
Adam pulls away and wipes at his wet face with the back of his hand. “D’you even need to ask? Gonna ride you so good, Lawrence.” Lawrence reaches for the lube, but Adam bats his hand away. “Don’t need it. Feel for yourself.” This time, it’s Adam that guides Lawrence’s hand between his legs where he’s dripping down his thighs.
It takes a minute to get Lawrence comfortable leaning against a pile of pillows and then Adam’s rubbing Lawrence’s cock against his wet cunt, slicking it up and catching the head against his own dick. Lawrence bucks up. He’s losing control, and Adam loves it.
“You can’t wait, can you? Can’t wait to fuck me. Rubbing up on me isn’t enough for you, is it?”
“No,” Lawrence moans. “Inside, please, I need to—“ Adam lines himself up and rubs Lawrence’s cockhead against his entrance, watching the way Lawrence’s eyes roll back into his head.
“Mind blown,” Adam says to himself with a smile, and sinks down on Lawrence’s cock. He rides him erratically—eating Lawrence’s ass had him worked up more than he realized—bracing himself on Lawrence’s soft chest and loving the way Lawrence watches him with a rapturous look on his face, like he can’t quite believe what’s happening. Adam loses track of time. He could stay here forever, with Lawrence’s hands on his waist and his cock buried inside him. But his thighs start to burn and he tips forward, Lawrence catching him and holding him still as he bucks his hips up, thrusting deep into Adam’s cunt. It feels so good. It fills him so perfectly, dragging just right against all the spots inside him that light up his nervous system. They’re pressed chest to chest, Lawrence using all the leverage he can get from one foot planted on the mattress to fuck up into Adam.
“I’m close,” Lawrence pants. Adam grinds down into his lap, feels the way Lawrence’s cock twitches inside him as he comes. Lawrence flops back against the cushions, and Adam follows him down, sliding off his cock and letting Lawrence’s come seep out from between his legs. He pokes Lawrence in the side.
“You really put the fun in erectile dysfunction,” Adam laughs.
Lawrence tries and fails to bite back a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I thought I was filthy.”
“That too,” Lawrence says, dragging Adam down for a kiss. “Now get up here.” He urges Adam to kneel over his face, tossing pillows off the bed to get him into position. Lawrence’s arms wrap around Adam’s thighs and then Adam is swallowed in absolute bliss as Lawrence, with uncharacteristic disregard to the mess between Adam’s legs, starts to lick his own come out of Adam’s cunt. He makes the happiest little sounds as he eats Adam out. When he moves on to mouth over Adam’s dick, he slides two long fingers up into Adam. As good as Lawrence is at sucking cock, he’s even better with his hands, and Adam rides his fingers, hips jerking back and forth between Lawrence’s hand and his mouth. It’s almost too much to handle. Adam’s thighs tremble and he can feel his foot starting to cramp, but he’s too far gone. Adam comes, chasing his pleasure with a tremor that wracks his whole body, and then twice more in quick succession when Lawrence refuses to let him go.
Finally, Adam collapses bonelessly over Lawrence’s chest.
“I hope you liked that. I got a pube stuck in my teeth,” Lawrence says.
“Shut up.”
They lie together, catching their breath, and letting their mixed sweat dry. Adam slides down until his head is pillowed on Lawrence’s stomach.
“Tummy,” he mumbles happily.
Lawrence smiles and runs a hand through Adam’s hair, petting him and scratching at his scalp. “Alright, I believe you. I have a sexy tummy.”
Adam presses a big kiss right over Lawrence’s belly button.
Lawrence squirms and barely suppresses a surprised squeak. “That’s enough. Let’s go clean up.”
Adam squashes his face further into Lawrence’s soft belly. “No.”
“Adam—“
“Don’t worry, Lawrence! I ate all the lube out of your ass so you don’t have to worry about it getting sticky or anything.”
“Exactly. Go brush your teeth.”
“You weren’t complaining when you called me filthy and then tongue-fucked my mouth!”
“Things are different in the—in the throes of passion!”
Adam laughs and pulls himself up so he’s straddling Lawrence’s lap. “I can’t believe you just said ‘throes of passion’. Kiss me?”
“No.”
“You don’t want my crème brûlée-rimjob kisses anymore?”
Lawrence starts to go a bit green. “Don’t call them that.”
“Come on, man! Is the romance already dead?” Adam leans in for a kiss, lips in an exaggerated pucker. Lawrence ducks and shoves a pillow in Adam’s face. “Fine! I’ll go brush my teeth and have a shower! How’s that, your highness?” His words are laced with sarcasm but there’s an earnestness in his eyes when he picks up Lawrence’s hand and gently kisses his palm. Softer, he asks, “You did like it though, yeah?”
Lawrence nods and, surprising both of them, kisses Adam squarely on the mouth. “I like you.”
Later, after Adam has brushed his teeth twice and Lawrence joined him in the shower, they lie in bed together, Adam wrapped around Lawrence like a backpack.
“Hey,” he says, “You asleep yet?”
Lawrence responds with a soft sound that could mean anything, so Adam continues. Some things are easier to say in the dark.
“This is good, right? You and me?” He presses his cheek against the soft flannel of Lawrence’s old man pyjama shirt. Lawrence is warm, and he takes Adam’s hand, holds it tight and presses it against his chest, above his heart.
Instead of answering, Lawrence says: “You know I love you, right?”
Adam presses his forehead against Lawrence’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he says. “Is love enough for people like us?”
Lawrence tenses next to him. Adam knows he’s thinking of the black and red robes hanging at the back of his closet, the silicon stench of the pig mask that’s hidden at the back of Lawrence’s sock drawer. The burner phone in Lawrence’s bedside table hasn’t rung in weeks, but they both know it’s not over. It can never be over. Lawrence made his decision when he sold his soul to a serial killer in exchange for Adam’s survival, and now they have to live with the consequences of never knowing what balance of love, guilt, and obligation their relationship is built on.
Lawrence squeezes Adam’s hand. “I don’t know. I hope it is.”
“Me too,” Adam says. It’s as good as a confession. Lawrence squeezes his hand again. Adam feels his body relax into the mattress. He focuses on the warmth of Lawrence’s hand around his, the linen-clean smell of him, the solidity of the body next to him. He thinks of the happy little life they’re building, with lube that tastes like crème brûlée, the misshapen green socks he’s knitting for Lawrence, and Lawrence’s Creed CDs quarantined far away from Adam’s real music on the living room shelf. He’s not going to let anyone take that away from him, Jigsaw be damned.
“Let’s run away together,” Adam mumbles.
Lawrence rolls over and kisses Adam’s forehead. “Where would we go?”
“Far away, where he can’t find us.”
Lawrence hums thoughtfully and wraps Adam in his arms. “I wish we could.”
“We’ll go to Australia,” Adam says. “The hole in the ozone layer causes cancer that you can treat and I’ll become an expert on koala bears.”
“That sounds nice.” Lawrence is on the verge of falling asleep, but Adam suddenly feels wide awake. He knows Lawrence would never leave his daughter without a good reason, but isn’t not being forced to murder people a good enough reason? Lawrence’s foot twitches, a sure sign that he’s asleep. Adam wiggles closer into his embrace, and starts to plan.