Chapter Text
The Secretary
Adam woke from his dreamless sleep to the trembling of the warm shape beside him. Pulling his mind from the fog of half-sleep, he opened his eyes to the tremoring rise and fall of Lawrence’s wide chest as he slept on his back, head tilted away towards the static-soft darkness at the edge of the bed. He was drawing breaths that escaped through vulnerable vocal cords in short little moans.
Nosing his neck with tender kisses, Adam roused Lawrence from his fitful sleep, who turned to him with a startled breath.
“Adam? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Adam kissed the corner of his mouth. “You cry in your sleep. Did you know that?”
Lawrence exhaled and swallowed with fatigue, adjusting his head on the pillow to look past the dark ceiling. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize for having bad dreams, dummy. After all we’ve been through? I’ve certainly had my fair share of nightmares.”
The hand resting on Adam’s hip squeezed in a feeble attempt at comfort, but Adam could tell he was still fighting whatever had followed him out of his dreams. Lawrence was lovable in that way, trying to comfort those around him without giving himself away. It was equally irritating and tragic.
“Here,” Adam said as he sat up and reached for the lamp to switch it on. Lawrence made a pained noise at the sudden glow. “Sit up for a while. I’m obviously not one to give mental health advice, but sometimes it helps to readjust when you have panic attacks.”
Perhaps made pliable with fatigue, Lawrence gave no protest as he shifted upright with Adam guiding him to recline against his sleep warm and naked body, arms wrapped around the older man’s neck to rub soothing circles at the fair patch of hair on his chest as he crushed Adam sweetly beneath his weight.
“I just...” Lawrence started, his voice a soft rumble against Adam’s chest.
“Please say what you were going to say.”
Lawrence swallowed. “I feel so selfish lately. This thing in me... it’s hurt you. And inevitably it’ll hurt Diana. I’ll hurt Diana by default just pursuing this. Sometimes I feel like I should let fantasy be just that. But at the same time, I don’t think I could live another day without you. It’s all so tangled.”
“Is that what you were dreaming about?” Adam said, kissing his soft hair.
“Maybe my father was right about me.”
“I think you spend a lot of time worrying about control. I mean, think about it; Not only do you control your family, Lawrence. You also control yourself. When was the last time you did anything out of pure desire, without the influence of what you should want?”
“Fucking you, clearly” Lawrence scoffed.
“Clearly,” Adam rolled his eyes. “Honestly, though, how can you be the best person for Diana if you can’t even be the best person for yourself?”
Lawrence blinked in contemplation and Adam patted his chest with a sigh, letting him ruminate. He turned to look around the room, now more visible in the yellow lamplight. The side table was a plain wood with the legendary pristine pack of Newports sitting on top of a pile of magazines and a book.
“I thought you didn’t like to read.” he said, pulling the book out from under glossy editions of GQ magazine, the cigarettes tumbling from their place at the top. The book was hardback and large with a worn-edged book jacket depicting Baroque art. One of the pages was marked with a folded edge and he flipped it open with a thumb in the crevice, resting the weight on Lawrence’s chest as he observed over his shoulder.
“I said I don’t like to read. I didn’t say I don’t read. I’m not uncultured.” Lawrence said defensively. “I got that book when my parents took me to Rome after I graduated high school.”
“Sheesh, okay snob. This book is mostly pictures anyway.”
“It’s not ‘pictures,’ it’s fine art.”
“Quit being a literal fag and tell me why you dog-eared this incredibly morbid painting.” The image of the painting had a caption below it; ‘Guido Reni, Saint Sebastian, ca.1615, oil on canvas, 130 X 99 cm. Roma, Musei Capitolini, Pinacoteca Capitolina. A male figure against an ambiguous, shadowy backdrop with his pleading eyes cast upwards towards an unknown light, raised arms secured above his head and an arrow puncturing the softly painted flesh of his armpit.
“This was my favorite painting,” Lawrence said as if embarrassed.
“Saint Sebastian? What did he do?”
“Died, mostly. It’s strange... he’s most often depicted this way. It’s like his life lost meaning in the minds of believers and scholars and artists. Everyone favors him for the brutal way he died, and that’s how he’s depicted.”
Adam itched his arm awkwardly as he studied the scarlet drops of blood falling from the shaft of the arrow.
“It is quite beautiful, though.” Lawrence continued.
“The tragedy?”
“The vulnerability.”
“...Huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”
The electric clock blared next to them and they both flinched at the harsh noise, Lawrence leaning over to hastily press the snooze button. Adam sighed tiredly, head falling back to rub his eyes.
“ Fuck my life, dude.”
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The computer screen was a hazy block. Adam pressed the tips of his fingers beneath his glasses to rub harsh circles at his bleary eyes in a futile effort to rouse his wandering mind. Memories of vigorous sex on a soft duvet played on repeat on his mind as he drifted from phone conversations, stuttering and starting again as he lost track of his clerical duties.
It didn’t help that he was wearing one of Lawrence’s white shirts and his skin smelled of his expensive soaps. Citrus and something dark like leather. It was fascinating to watch Lawrence’s morning routine of putting together the man that was Doctor Lawrence Gordon, from the odd, shy man who could barely hold eye contact and cried in his sleep, to something solid like a pillar in a harbor.
A mug of coffee appeared in front of him on the desk.
“You look a little tired,” Lawrence said.
“Yeah, I’m a little worn out.” Adam groaned, taking the mug with a wince.
“Quite literally,” Lawrence teased, making Adam blush. “You keep making faces when you use that arm. Is it difficult to do normal tasks without pain?”
Adam shrugged. “I guess so. I just use my left hand to do stuff like wash my hair, pick things up. Jack off. Whatever.”
Lawrence cleared his throat and Adam felt the small butterflies of childish victory flit around his chest. “Maybe physical therapy would benefit you.”
“Maybe. I kind of like it.”
He turned to look up from his coffee to the other man, leaning against the desk and looking back with an intense fondness that had him reaching out to run his fingers over the soft hairs at Adam’s temple.
“In any case, I came out here to ask you a question. Well...more of a favor. You can say no if the idea makes you uncomfortable.”
“When has ‘no’ ever been a part of my vocabulary?” Adam said, sipping his coffee.
“Don’t speak too soon. I have to go to the courthouse on Friday-”
“Holy shit! You’re getting a divorce!”
“- So I was wondering if you would be willing to watch Diana while Alison and I are gone. It’ll be only for a little while. I can pay you for your services like I would any other babysitter.”
Adam blinked as he shifted in his seat. “I don’t- I mean, you don’t have to pay me, Lawrence. Is Alison okay with some low life watching your daughter?”
“You are not a low life, Adam. And Alison has met you, so I don’t think she’ll be opposed to you watching over Diana for a few hours while we’re out. Not to mention the fact that Diana has been very wary of strangers since the incident. You’re actually the best option.”
“Fine, alright.” Adam said. Alison would probably consider it holding up the bargain on his end, anyhow. “I’ll play my part as the doomed babysitter in a slasher film. Seems I flunked my final-girl role the first time, anyhow.”
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The house of the Gordon women was clean, but warmer than Lawrence’s apartment. The floors had a plush beige carpet that felt clean under Adam’s socked feet unlike the worn and smoke-stained shag carpet that lined the memory of his own childhood home. Light streamed in through lacey curtains to illuminate the white walls. It smelled like clean linen.
Diana was sitting on the floral couch with a Care Bear blanket folded over her lap. She studied the flickering television as Lawrence and Alison carried out some hushed and fretful argument in the hall. Alison was buttoning up a gray wool coat when she returned to the living room.
“There’s a box of macaroni and cheese on the counter,” she said in hushed tone as she collected her purse and keys. “Please don’t let her watch anything scary. I left my number on the fridge if there’s any emergency.”
“I promise she’ll be okay,” he said. What else could he say to ease the anxious glance she cast towards her daughter?
She gave no receptive smile, only a tight-lipped nod before kissing the top of Diana’s dollish curls and heading out the front door. Lawrence followed with his own kiss and a reassuring touch to the side of Adam’s face as he passed.
“Be good you two.”
And suddenly Adam was alone with an eight-year-old. She watched him as he stood in the entryway, both unsure of the other. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to put his hands in his pockets or leave them neutral at his side.
“I’ll make some dinner,” he decided, and headed off in the opposite direction towards the kitchen.
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The boxed macaroni was the same as he remembered. When his own mom hadn’t had time to cook for him (and his dad never cared to take up the task), it was something simple he used to do himself to get by, standing on a wooden chair in front of the stove. It felt surreal to be making it in such an airy, clean kitchen for a child he barely knew, and the daughter of someone he cared about very much. It made him feel old and young at the same time, as if he was every age he’d ever been all in one moment.
He did his best to make it nicer than it seemed, with some sliced hot dogs and cracked black pepper over the top (less on Diana’s than his own). He set the bowl in her grateful hands and placed a glass of grape juice on the glass coffee table in front of her before sitting on the other end of the couch.
“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it.” he said, trying to seem as nonthreatening as possible. Her melancholy demeanor made her difficult to read.
She took slow bites. “You make this better than my mom.”
“Wow, I’ll try to not let that go to my head. What are you watching?”
“Angelina Ballerina. I want to watch Courage the Cowardly Dog , but my mom says I’m not allowed because it’ll make me scared again.”
Adam shrugged, spearing a hotdog. “I won’t tell if you don’t tell.”
They exchanged devious smiles before Adam was reaching for the remote on the coffee table. He caught a glimpse of Diana’s smile falling away, her eyes somewhere in front of him and he realized that his sleeve was slipping up his arm.
Their expressions turned serious as Adam retreated, trying to distract Diana by flipping through the many channels before settling on Cartoon Network.
“What happened?” Diana said, her voice frighteningly serious in the way an adult’s might be. Adam had the sudden feeling that he was in elementary school again. That he was in trouble, again.
“ Nothing, it was just an accident.”
“What kind of accident?”
“I got scratched by a cat. A really, really mean cat.”
Diana frowned at him. “That’s a lie. I can tell you’re lying because everyone always lies to me.”
“It’s not very polite to ask about people’s physical appearance.” Adam said, frowning back. “Look, your show is on. You don’t want to miss it.”
The distraction worked momentarily. But Diana, perhaps ruled by some child law regarding curiosity over social propriety, became relentless. “Sometimes I hit myself when I get upset.”
Adam set his bowl down on the coffee table. “Upset about what?”
“I don’t know. Everything. I mostly do it in the bathroom at school so nobody can see me.”
“It feels like too much sometimes, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
A beat of silence passed as they watched a purple cartoon dog flee from alien ducks, waving frantically at a kind old woman and a cruel old man. Adam watched Diana across the chasm of the couch. He felt like a hologram.
“Don’t hurt yourself, Diana.” he said. What words could he possibly put together to speak for his desperate heart? And maybe that was the root of all misery, the failure of human language.
“Why?”
“Because it doesn’t make the big feelings go away. It only makes it worse. It doesn’t fix anything.”
“Then how come you do it?”
Adam blinked and looked away from her pressing doe eyes, down at the unbuttoned cuffs of his sleeves. “Don’t you think your mom would be sad if she knew? Your dad?”
“He doesn’t care about me anymore.” She said, jaw tightening as she looked away towards the television.
“I promise you, your dad loves you a lot,” Adam said. “The other night he was practically bawling like a baby because he missed you so much.”
Diana tried not to show the smile at the pathetic image of her father. “No he wasn’t. You’re lying again. You’re a big, fat liar.”
“Swear on my life. Your dad talks about you all the time, saying how much he misses you and how much he loves you and cares about you. You just have to understand that dads aren’t perfect people. They make mistakes just like you and me. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”
“Yeah,” Diana sighed. “I think I just miss him a lot, too.”
“It’ll be okay,” Adam said feebly.
She eyed him quizzically. “Are you my dad’s special friend?”
“Uhh... I sure hope so. I guess he’s my best friend.”
“Mom said that you’re dad’s special friend,” she clarified. “She says you were together when things were scary and now you’re best friends. She also said dad should get a dog, but maybe you’re the next best thing.”
“What- she told you that?” he floundered.
“No, I listen to her on the phone with Aunt Katie.”
“Damn. I mean... gosh darn , that’s a harsh thing to say.”
She giggled at his profanity and turned back to the cartoon, drawing the blanket up to her chin as she curled in on herself with comfortable glee. Adam smiled at her, glad that the trepid awkwardness was behind them.
“I’m glad that you’re not a dog,” she said. “Even though I want a dog a lot.”
Adam hummed in thought. “I’ll see what I can do.”
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Murmured voices gently roused Adam from a shallow sleep. The room was dimmer than when he had arrived. He was curled up with his head rested on the plush arm of the couch. His eyes adjusted to Lawrence standing over him, talking to Alison who was slipping out of her coat near the entryway.
Adam sat up with a start against the throw blanket that had been draped over him. “Where’s Diana?”
“It’s alright. She tucked you in and put herself to bed.” Lawrence said.
“It’s a miracle. She hasn’t slept in her own bed for weeks.” Alison said as she made her way to the hall towards Diana’s room.
“Shit, Larry. Sorry I fell asleep.”
Lawrence cast a wary glance towards the hall before kissing the ruffled top of Adam’s head. “Don’t be sorry. I think you’ve landed yourself a position as designated babysitter, whether you want to or not.”
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The office felt like a ship at sea after dark. With the building closed and patients gone, the warm glow of lamplights kept anxieties at bay. Even the utilitarian light of fluorescent bulbs had come to feel welcoming in the quiet.
Even before the bathroom, nighttime had brought with it troubling thoughts for Adam, drifting in to swim around his skull before inevitably floating away with the morning. Some returned and some were lost. Words gathered like schools of fish with sharp teeth, as he hugged his bed like a flimsy plank. Somewhere beyond the clinic walls they circled and waited. Still, one or two became entangled in the net of his mind to thrash when he couldn’t keep himself busy.
He was sitting on the rolling stool in the examination room, watching Lawrence take inventory with a clipboard in one arm. It was the one room where Lawrence did most of the smaller tasks and Adam was always glad for the excuse to observe.
“Does this make you think twice about being a veterinarian?” Lawrence said, brows furrowed as he scribbled something down. He was referring to the scalpels shrouded in paper and plastic, amongst other vials of fluid and rolls of gauze.
Adam shrugged, toying with the stethoscope. “I’m surprised you even remember that. Kind of embarrassing. And anyway, I already told you that I gave up on that dream.”
Lawrence glanced at him the way he imagined a father would look at a surly teen if they cared enough. “It’s never too late...” he said in a singsong voice.
Adam rolled his eyes but smiled. “I think Diana should have a dog.”
“She’s mentioned it before. I’ve been hesitant about playing the role of guilty father, but a companion and guardian might benefit her. I’ll bring it up with Alison this weekend when we visit.”
“’We?’ You mean, you and me?”
The clipboard was placed hesitantly on the counter next to the sink. “Yes, if you’d like. I was also wondering if you’d like to move in with me? It doesn’t have to be my apartment...”
“Oh...”
“We can find our own together, and you can have your own room. I’m sorry this is so sudden. I wanted to speak about it at a better time, but it hadn’t come up naturally. I don’t want to scare you away.”
Adam nearly choked. This was usually the part when things started going downhill, if they ever reached that point. People changed their minds about him, found his temper to be ugly and his desperation frightening. In truth, he loved hard and people could match it in the beginning when the fresh kill of love was still warm. But it always festered, and people inevitably lost interest. He was too difficult to save in the end and it made everything too agonizingly predictable.
He looked at the linoleum floor. “You kind of have the upper hand, here. I mean, what if you end up hating me? Then I’ll have no home, no job... I’m scared of the consequences hanging over the both of us.”
“Adam, I don’t hate you. And I never will.” Lawrence said sternly, but not without the sharp edge of a plea barely cutting through. “But I understand how that sentiment might feel intangible to you. So, what if I offered to write you a letter of recommendation? If you end up wanting nothing to do with a divorced wretch like me, you can quit this place and go anywhere you’d like. You’ll see you have no such thing to be afraid of, but I’ll give you that safety.”
Anxiety lingered, but was somehow quelled with the framework of a plan. Maybe it was that he wanted to believe Lawrence, or maybe it was just that Lawrence was worth risking the ultimate heartache, that had Adam nodding.
“Yeah. Okay, Larry. I’ll live with you.”
A shuddered breath escaped Lawrence that Adam hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, but he made no move to touch him. Perhaps he also felt it was too good to be true.
Adam looked down at the stethoscope to distract himself. “I think this is broken. I can’t hear a thing.”
“They don’t break. They’re quite simple, actually.” Lawrence took the device and placed the rubber pieced gently in Adam’s ears. “The diaphragm picks up vibrations in your body and the amplified acoustics travel up the walls of the tube to the listener's ear. See...”
He held the metallic end to his own chest with calculated placement and the gushing thrum of Lawrence’s heart rang between Adam’s ears. He closed his eyes, fingers ghosting over the metal tubes as if to close out the pollution of noise around him while he discovered a newly loved song.
“Now me,” he murmured as he removed the device and handed it to the other man. Lawrence took it and placed it in his ears as he probably always had done, as if it were muscle memory. He snaked the cold end up Adam’s shirt, and Adam bit back a giddy smile as he circled his naked breast with the flat circular piece. Lawrence’s eyelashes fluttered as he pressed it more firmly to the skin.
“Your heart is beating awfully fast,” he teased. His voice was low in the familiar way that Adam knew intimately.
“Oh? What’s your diagnosis, doctor?”
Their lips met and Lawrence was removing the stethoscope to set off to the side so he could better steady Adam’s head with both hands. Adam was leaning up into the kiss, chasing his wet mouth as Lawrence righted himself and stepped back.
“Strip,” he said with a curt motion of his hand. He watched as Adam undid his buttoned shirt and removed his pants, until he was standing in a puddle of clothes with only his black boxers remaining.
Lawrence maneuvered him by the arm to the examination table, paper crinkling as Adam hoisted himself up to sit on the edge, feet dangling. He watched Lawrence move around the space, going through drawers with the juxtaposing mannerisms of being eerily adept as he searched through supplies as well as limping slightly on his prosthetic. No doubt a giveaway at how eager he was.
He held up a roll of medical tape. “Do you trust me?”
“Fuck me up, Larry.” Adam challenged, holding out his wrists. The medical tape was unfurled around and around until he was testing the strength of the bind and found that he couldn’t bring his hands away from the other. He was pushed by the chest onto his back, arms forced over his head.
“Don’t move your arms from where they are,” Lawrence demanded. He nodded, muscles spasming in thrilled tremors.
The overhead examination light was blinding as it came on in a flash, and Adam was turning his head to the side with eyes pinched shut before adjusting to the glare. A warm hand smoothed over his throat and down over his chest, further still over his stomach to trace over rows of scars. Lawrence made a small tsking sound before placing a grounding grip on the high points of his hip, clinical.
“I wanted to show you something,” he said. “The place where I shot you- here - just a shoulder wound, like I said. The bullet entered through the pectoralis major, which is the large muscle that fans out beneath your breast.”
He placed a finger to the twisted scar on Adam’s chest, the pressure sending a dull ache up to his shoulder and the side of his neck.
“But beneath that,” Lawrence continued, “is the pectoralis minor. The muscle fibers are connected to your ribcage, up to your shoulder. The bullet struck this also, which you might be able to feel if I press just so...”
The hands became suddenly savage, bearing down on the scar with two fingers pressing deliberately at the soft valley of Adam’s armpit, making him cry out involuntarily. He fought the urge to bring his arms down defensively, instead lulling himself into the crashing waves of pain as Lawrence bore down on his soft flesh.
“My God, you’re beautiful.” Lawrence said, breathless. The hand on Adam’s chest moved up towards his face and he took the soothing thumb into his mouth, spit wetting the skin as it brushed over the surface of his teeth and the softness of his bottom lip. Lawrence was shaking again in the unrelenting winds of lust.
Adam felt the hands smooth down his body to hook fingertips beneath the elastic band of his boxers as they were yanked off, his own body dragged roughly down the length of the table until he thought his lower half would fall over the end. Lawrence was there to balance him, placing both of Adam’s legs over his shoulders. His hand was slick with what was probably medical-grade lubricant.
Arms still held obediently over his head, Adam searched the glaring light through damp lashes as two fingers entered him slowly. Lawrence was petting a hand over his sternum with a leg held in the crook of his arm. Good boy, good boy.
Adam tried hiding his moans by turning his head to the side and gasping into the smooth flesh of his bicep. “No, no,” Lawrence cooed as he tipped his face back upright. “Let me see. I want to see your face when I’m inside you.”
The hollowness that Adam felt was only momentary before Lawrence was undoing his belt and pushing into him with an excruciating slowness that almost had Adam bringing his arms down as he arched against the padded surface of the table. A strong hand came up to correct him before Lawrence was picking up pace.
Adam forced his own eyes open to look at the other man fucking him. His face was flushed red, one hand braced on Adam’s thigh as he was stooped over with an expression of severe concentration. The sudden meeting of their eyes seemed to make Lawrence flinch, but Adam must have been looking at him with a pleading face, because he didn’t look away, instead grasping the wounded shoulder as if he couldn’t hold on tight enough. The wavering pain and pleasure throughout his body drew out little cries in response.
The examination light made a halo around Lawrence’s blonde hair as his head fell forward, unravelling inside Adam’s warm body. He drew the hand away to stop tormenting the wound to stroke him in a lustful frenzy, and Adam leveraged his strength against the binds, the material splitting in a threadbare rip. Pleasure coursed through his body as he lurched forward to wrap his arms around Lawrence.
If it was disobedient, he had never been a saint anyhow.
( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)