Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Be good, guys,” Kris orders, glaring especially hard at the unrepentant, smirking Adam dressed in leather pants, leather coat and who knew what underneath. “I'm only going to be gone for two hours at the most. Do not burn anything down or I will end you.”

“We'll be good, Kris,” the Adam dressed in jeans and a soft, fluffy sweater promises. Even his hair looks soft and fluffy. “Won't we?”

“Totally,” the other Adam grins. “No burning things.” He crosses his heart, insincere and not trying to hide it at all.

Kris sighs. “If you don't burn anything down, I'll buy you that pair of boots you wanted.” It's a bribe, blatant and obvious and fuck him if it doesn't work.

“Deal,” Adam grins. The Adam in the sweater rolls his eyes. “What?”

“I can't believe he has to bribe you,” Adam tells . . . himself.

“You ain't so lily-fresh yourself, princess,” Adam snarks. “I saw that ridiculous teapot with the dragon on the side he got you. And the tea you got him to buy along with it? I think we both know how expensive that shit is.”

“At least my present has some sort of health benefit,” Adam snaps.

The Adam in leather rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Whatever. Boots are totally healthy. Especially when I'm going to burn the house down if I don't get them.”

The Adam in the sweater sighs and lets it go. “Have a nice day, Kris,” he says, and hugs him goodbye. The Adam in leather waves, then gives Kris the finger. Kris has grave doubts about coming home to an actual building and not a crater. He leaves anyway. Two hours without the Adams arguing about something—or worse, the nice Adam doing something nice and getting torn apart by the bad Adam for it—is going to be heaven.

* * *

Adam is bored. Well, half of him is bored. The other half of him is happily doing dishes and cooing at Kris' dog. Little rat. Adam's not sure if he means the dog or his fucking dorky double. Who voluntarily does dishes? Why would you do that? Also, his double is kind of a kiss-ass. Fucking hugging people all the time. Adam could show him hugs.

Actually, that's not a bad idea. In the kitchen, Adam has stopped washing the dishes to kneel down by the fucking dog and scratch it's ears. Adam's mouth pulls into a grin, and he stalks into the room, plans formulating in the back of his head.

“Finished with the dishes?” he asks.

“Just done,” Adam answers. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah, I'm bored,” Adam shrugs. “Come talk to me.”

Adam frowns. “You're not going to just sit there and insult me again, are you?”

“Entertaining as that may be, it isn't what I had in mind just now. I just . . . look we're the same person, right? We've got to have something in common.”

Adam smiles. “Of course! We both like Kris, right?”

Adam puckers his lips thoughtfully. “Well . . . I'm not sure like is the right word, but he doesn't make me want to yank my hair out in chunks, so. He's got that going for him.”

“And music. Or clothes! We both like fashion!”

“Yes, that's true,” Adam nods. “Although I'm not sure how we're so stylistically different if we're supposed to be the same guy.”

“We are the same guy,” Adam sighs. “Weren't you listening when Kris explained it? You got all the sexy, lustful, mean parts, and I got all the other stuff.”

“Right. Maybe you could come into the living room with me and explain this better? You know how I tune out when things get technical,” Adam tries. It works.

Adam nods. “I do know. Okay, let's talk about how we got separated. Maybe we can come up with some theory as to how to put us back together before Kris gets back. Then we could surprise him!”

“Sure,” Adam rolls his eyes and herds himself toward the sofa. “Sit. Explain. Why did we separate.”

Adam fidgets with the sleeve of his sweater as he speaks. “Well, we were . . .” Adam tunes himself out and slides closer, puts his hand over Adam's cuff and tugs a little.

“Wouldn't you be more comfortable without this sweater?” he asks.

“Oh, I don't know, it's really soft and warm,” Adam shrugs. “Anyway, I was saying--”

“Come on, princess,” Adam croons, leaning in and putting his hands on Adam's shoulders. He gets closer to Adam's face and murmurs low, “We both know how much you hate it when things start raveling. And if you're worried about being too cold, don't. I'll keep you warm.”

“Oh,” Adam says, stretching the syllable out into a glissando. “You're seducing me. That's what this is.”

“Yes,” Adam admits. No point lying to himself. “I am. Now come on. It's just a sweater.”

“Kris said not to get into any trouble,” Adam says firmly.

“This isn't trouble. How is this trouble?” Adam works his hands underneath the sweater and starts nudging it off Adam's shoulders. “It's like—it's like taking a shower and jacking it. But without the water and the loneliness. When has jacking it ever gotten you in trouble?”

Adam frowns. “There was that one time,” he tries, but Adam waves a hand—after extracting it from the sweater.

“That was Tommy's fault, and you know it. Also, anything involving Brad doesn't count. Brad brings chaos and disorder wherever he goes,” Adam says, then pushes the sweater down Adam's shoulders. “There, that's better, isn't it?”

He looks Adam over. He has a gorgeous chest, if he does say so himself, and the white t-shirt helps emphasize the good points. It's a little big for Adam's taste, definite lounge wear, but still. Definitely fuckable.

“I—I don't think this is a good idea,” Adam says, a little nervous. “What if Kris comes back early?”

Adam lowers his mouth to Adam's neck and gives a little kiss, then a lick. “Mmm, he can join us. Sound good?”

“Not really,” Adam says, but Adam can hear the way his voice shakes. He's getting to himself, he just needs to up his game a little.

He pulls back enough to make sure he's in the right place, then bites, just below his ear, and sucks Adam's earlobe into his mouth.

“Oh, shit,” he moans. “God, wh-what--”

“Hmmm,” Adam hums, scraping his teeth against the skin as he pulls back. “You want to kiss me.”

“I—I do?” Adam stutters.

“You do,” Adam nods.

“Oh,” Adam breathes, and he'd probably say more but Adam slides a finger along Adam's jaw to tilt his head and licks Adam's bottom lip, then blows cool air over the spit-slick skin. Adam sucks in a breath at the cool air, and blinks up at Adam. “Oh.”

Adam doesn't bother talking. Adam's far enough gone at this point that talking will only jar him out of the compliant state he's in. So instead he just leans in and kisses himself. He isn't gentle because he knows exactly what he can take, and how much he likes being forced to take it. He bites Adam's lip and pushes his tongue inside, fucking it back and forth a little before biting down on Adam's lip and fisting a hand in his hair. He yanks Adam's head back and Adam's mouth opens on a gasp. Adam takes advantage and licks over and inside and around, wet messy stripes over his chin and cheeks, then hard, sucking kisses to his mouth. He tugs on Adam's hair again, bares his throat and bites down over his pulse point. He scrapes his teeth against the skin again, sucks harder, then uses his free hand to wrap around his neck and push himself back into the couch cushions.

Adam moans underneath himself and shudders, perfect, beautiful tremors running through his body. “Yeah,” Adam sighs happily. “Shake for me, sweetheart, love the way I can make you shiver.”

“Oh god,” Adam moans, and Adam takes his mouth again, sucks on his tongue and kisses hard and harsh, maneuvering them so they're stretched out across Kris' couch, legs tangling, Adam's dick rubbing against Adam's hip with their movements, making Adam whimper and Adam groan appreciatively.

“Harder, baby,” Adam demands around the kiss, biting sharp and unforgiving at Adam's mouth. “Fuck up against me, wanna see you—motherfuck, that's it,” he adds, encouraging.

Adam pushes up against Adam's hip, shaking with the strain of pushing against Adam's hands holding him down, Adam's mouth sliding slick and sharp over his own, teeth catching delicate skin and clamping down.

Behind them, Adam hears the sound of a key in the door. “Sh-shit, we have to—Kris! Kris is back—fu-uck! God let me up!”

“No,” Adam says, grinding his hips down. Adam wails at the friction, the sound going muffled as Adam kisses him again, sucking the air out of Adam's lungs and leaving him breathless and torn between clinging to Adam's shoulders and struggling away from him. Adam whimpers into Adam's mouth when he hears Kris toss his keys on the hall table.

“Guys? Where'd you go? I don't like that I can't see you, it makes me nervous,” Kris calls.

Adam whines again, clearly an “Oh shit, he's going to find us and kill us, what were you thinking you bastard?” noise. Adam just grins against Adam's mouth and slides his tongue back inside Adam's mouth.

He has Adam sufficiently distracted so that when Kris' voice gasps out, “Oh my god, you guys!” Adam jerks and pulls Adam closer to himself. Their mouths are jarred apart, so Adam latches onto Adam's ear, feels the tension snap through Adam's body as Adam works him over. “Guys!” Kris tries again, more insistent than before.

“Hmm?” Adam asks, not bothering to stop sucking Adam's earlobe raw. It's gonna be such a bitch for him to put his gauges in tomorrow. Adam smirks at the thought and bites down harder.

“Stop that! Adam, you can't just molest—well, yourself. Not without permission, anyway!” Kris protests.

Adam pants a little when Adam tugs on his hair again and forces him to arch back into the couch. “He—I mean, I didn't—he was bored, and I—oh god.”

“You're talking too much,” Adam complains, and kisses himself again.

“Jesus,” Kris mumbles. “That's—that's disturbing. Totally disturbing. I think I might be sick, I am so disturbed.” He's flushing bright red, so he might be disturbed, but it looks a whole lot more like really fucking interested if you ask Adam.

“You know you love it,” Adam says, pulling his mouth away from Adam's long enough to turn his head and grin. “Hey, you could join us if you wanted. I promised we'd at least ask you.”

“I am not having a threesome with you!” Kris chokes out, then runs down the hall. “I'm locking myself in my bedroom until you two are finished. Get jizz on my couch and I will withhold both boots and tea!”

“Let—let me up,” Adam breathes, pushing at Adam's shoulder. “I—we have to stop now.”

“Beg me,” Adam says, mouth curving into a sly smile. “I want to hear you pleading with me.”

“I—I can't, I don't—just let me up, Adam, god I—you need to let me up,” Adam whimpers. “St—sss . . .”

Adam can hear the word stop forming in Adam's head, on his tongue, but he knows his other half won't say it, no matter how much he might want to. “Yeah, that's it, princess,” Adam encourages, grinding their hips together as hard as he can manage while lying on a couch. “Come on, beg me.”

“What—oh god,” Adam moans, involuntarily pushing his hips up for more, then jerking away when it's too much pressure.

Adam uses the hand around Adam's throat to push him down harder, keep him in place while he struggles up against Adam's body. He's cutting off air just enough to keep Adam stammering and stuttering, but not enough to lose those pretty begging sounds Adam makes as he tries to breathe, tries to get away. Adam leans back in and grinds again, sliding his other hand down between their bodies to press the heel against Adam's dick.

“N-no, wait, I—he said,” Adam begins, and he's almost there, he's so close to begging it's painful to have to wait to hear it, but then, “oh please, please, wait, I need—you have to—oh please, Adam, please, god, I—I need—I can't—please, I—”

Adam loosens his grip on Adam's throat so he can use that hand to fist in Adam's hair and pull him up into a bruising kiss, biting and brutal and perfect. He pushes down with the hand on Adam's dick as hard as he can, bites down into Adam's lip hard enough to draw blood, and Adam writhes beneath him, gasps in air, and sobs as he comes.

Slowly, Adam stands up, leaving Adam sprawled on the couch, used and filthy and shaking from over stimulation, face streaked with tears and an obvious wet spot across his crotch. He surveys his handiwork, the wreck he's made of his double and slowly smiles, then turns on his heel and walks away.