Chapter Text
Chris finally gets dropped off around 9:15 PM. He's cranky and his legs are sore from the various methods of cramped transportation, and when he opens the door to his trailer, he's more concerned about his best friend than he is the gift from his fuckbuddy. "Hey, Eagly." His old friend greets him at the door with a relieved chirp, nuzzling the top of his little head against Chris's shin. Chris drops his bag and kneels down to give the bird a neck scratch, cooing lovingly at him until Eagly settles and seems convinced that Chris is here to stay (at least for the time being).
"It's pretty dark out, d'you wanna try to hunt anyway?" Eagly hops up and down and squawks at the door, which seems like a yes to Chris, so he opens it. "Be safe, friend." He gives Eagly a brisk wave and salute, takes a deep breath of the evening air, and shuts the door again. Now that he's really alone, he takes a moment to examine the gift bag on the kitchen counter. He wouldn't put it past Adrian to booby-trap it, but he can't find any indication that the thing is rigged. He picks it up (it is heavier than he expected) and empties out the contents onto his bed.
The first object to land is a short paperback book titled, HOW TO PHOTOGRAPH YOUR MEMBER that looks like it was probably on the shelf for thirty years. A quick flip through confirms that suspicion, as the information provided only applies to film cameras. The message is clear, though, and that is what matters. "Fucking smartass," Chris chuckles to himself and picks up the next object. It is in a wrapped box. He tears off the wrapping to find a semi-realistic dildo with a suction cup base. Chris immediately notices that the size of it is similar to Adrian's cock, which a sticky note affixed to the box confirms was the intention, reading, "so i can help keep your mouth busy on missions" with a crude drawing of a merman.
And then, of course, there are the clamps. They are metal, with shiny black latex covering the ends and a dial between them to adjust the tightness. There are tassels in the box that are clearly meant to be used with the clamps, as well as a chain to connect them. Adrian splurged. A toy is one thing, but he didn't have to go and get one with all these bells and whistles. He couldn't be caught dead wearing fucking nipple tassels. Chris shakes his head, disappointed to see him make such frivolous, pointless purchases. That's what happens when you leave that boy alone.
It might take Eagly longer than usual to find dinner, and he may want more time outside since it's such a clear night, so Chris is alone for a little while longer. He could put the clamps on. Just over his shirt, obviously. Maybe he'll take a picture and send it to Adrian, as a joke. To fuck with him about what a stupid idea this was. That would be funny. Chris shrugs his jacket off and onto the floor, sits down on his bed, and opens one of the clamps with his thumb and forefinger. He lines it up around his nipple, which is already hard under his shirt. It is sort of chilly in here at night sometimes. He releases the clamp, ignoring the dial and letting it snap all the way shut.
The next thing he knows, he's doubled over onto his bed, tears in his eyes, cock aching. The sensation shot straight to his dick, like a spark running through his nerves. It feels like he's being unzipped, chest to groin, until he's drawn open and helpless and raw. Feeling vulnerable, he sits up, which moves his shirt, which nudges the clamp, and he cries out again. This time he whines so hard he has to cough to catch his breath. His hand, shaking hard, manages to release and remove the clamp. It stings when he takes it off, like he had gotten used to that harsh pressure just enough to miss it once it was gone.
Chris lets out a huge sob he was unaware he'd been holding in, gulping air, and presses his palm to his chest instinctively. The warmth of his hand on the sore, already-so-sensitive skin makes him moan and squirm around on the bed. He manages to flop over onto his back, breathing hard with his hand over his heart. He can't decide if he's more embarrassed about how much he loves this or about the shameful fact that he's never let himself enjoy it like this before.
Yeah, it's the latter. Goddamn, what a waste of several decades of fucking. The realization that he could have purchased nipple clamps for himself at any time over the past twenty years (with the exception being the time he spent in prison, but then again, he didn't exactly make an attempt to find any there) frankly, sucks. He knows his resistance to it came from his own emotional baggage. If there's one thing Chris had hoped his fucked up origin story hadn't made worse, it was orgasms.
The regret is soothed slightly when it dawns on him that this show of vulnerability might be the thing that gets Adrian to forget about the pinky toe incident forever. Obviously Chris is not being tortured, but it is not as far off as he cares to admit, and he is doing it willingly. For Adrian.
Alright, okay, it is not for Adrian, it's for Chris. The sensation is so stellar, he could cry right now, but he's too eager to keep experimenting to waste time bawling about how good it feels. He wants to put the clamp on again but knows doing so haphazardly will only overstimulate him. Chris is fine admitting that he underestimated this little gadget, and that is okay. It's growth, actually, and he is braver for acknowledging it.
He takes off his shirt and boots and flops back onto the bed, one clamp in each hand. There are no instructions, but Chris figures he can examine the dial to figure it out. The mechanism is simple, and had he attended any more than half of his geometry class junior year, he might recognize it as being the same as that of a compass. Limited knowledge of mathematic tools notwithstanding, Chris manages to adjust the clamps to fit his nipples more comfortably. They'll still apply enough pressure to hold on and be tug-able, but won't make him feel like he is being electrocuted.
Maybe he should have kept his shirt on.
No, no— the grip will be better this way, he'll be able to pull harder while applying less pressure. Why is that important? No specific reason. It's just scientific inquiry. Right now he happens to be testing to see what happens when he does stuff that he already knows makes his dick throb. He attaches the first clamp, which is connected by a twenty inch chain to the other, to his right nipple. Chris lets out a long, low groan, letting his eyes drift shut and the corners of his mouth perk upward. "Oh… Oh, yeah…" He gives the chain a tug to make sure it is on tight enough, and through that experiment, he is able to determine that it was indeed on securely. He's sure that his cock is leaking at this point, and he wants to take off his pants and underwear and just fuck his hand, but he also really wants to know how far he can push this - how far he can push himself - for science.
Chris lets his legs hang over the side of the bed, his head on the mattress a few inches down from his pillow. At this angle, it becomes easy to imagine Adrian kneeling over him, pinning his arms with one hand and tugging this chain with the other. "Oh, baby, c'mon," He pleads, quiet, aware that no one can hear him but still inclined to keep these noises close to the vest. "C'mon, Adrian, Adrian, more," He can hear his third best friend's voice in his head, cooing at him, "You want me to put the other clamp on, P?" He nods at the ceiling and whimpers up at it.
"Fuck yes, V, I do, please—" He cuts himself off and fastens the clamp on his other nipple, and, before he has a chance to react to the feeling, Chris grabs and pulls the chain as far as it goes without actively stretching. "Fuck, FUCK, GOD," He slams his fist down onto the bed and growls, hips bucking up against imaginary Adrian's imaginary hard-on.
"Sooo cute. Are you really gonna beg?" Adrian purrs, imaginarily. Chris's cock is reaching an unbearable level of discomfort, (and there's really no pressure to drag this out, anyway,) so he decides to say fuck it and take off his pants and briefs. Fully nude, he returns to his prior spot on the bed, but this time puts his feet up and keeps his hips slightly elevated, so the head of his cock is pointing down at his own face. More importantly, his tits are pushed out, nipples pulsing, aching, looking so suckable, and he wishes Adrian could see—
Oh fuck. Adrian can see. With the help of technology and NO help from Adrian's book, Chris takes a significantly better photo of his dick (with his pecs and pec accessories visible in the background) than he ever has before. It helps that he looks especially fucking hot right now, but in bad lighting, it still could have been a let down.
This will not prove to be a let down. He types out a message to go along with the image, but ends up deleting it, realizing that the picture alone is more than enough to thoroughly fuck up the rest of his workday. He laughs at his own deviousness, then, pretending again that Adrian is there, yanks on the chain again. "Fff-uhh-uhh-uck—" He moans, back arching while his free hand finally gives in and wraps around the base of his cock. In his mind's eye, he can see V riding him, taking him so fucking well and remaining lucid enough to boss him around the whole time. The chain is in his hand, and he's using it to tug him in different directions, snickering when his moans get especially whiny and soft. "You like that, huh, handsome?" Imaginadrian is smirking; the motherfucker looks smug even when he's just pretend. Even worse, he's right. Chris does like it. He really really likes it, and he genuinely cannot wait to use these things with Adrian.
Speaking of Adrian, Chris knows that he could be going on his break any minute. It's 10:15. He takes a second to send Adrian the nude he took earlier. Hopefully he didn't bring his phone onto the floor tonight. If he did, worst case scenario a customer or coworker of his gets a peek at Chris's rockin' bod. There are much worse fates. He puts his phone down after that and continues jacking off without waiting for a response.
Chris imagines Adrian holding the chain in his teeth and using his hands to grope around at Chris's chest and abs while riding him. He imagines Adrian making him hold it, demanding he pull harder on his own nipples, tease himself like he's doing right now. "Do you even want to let go?" Adrian would say, grinning ear to ear. "It doesn't seem like you wanna let go, buddy."
He strokes the underside of his nipple, the sliver of skin not covered by the clamp, and whimpers. "Aaaadriaannn…" His pleas go unanswered, and he is forced to continue using his hand in lieu of Adrian's ass. His cock is leaking down directly onto his chest, and he cannot decide if he wants to try and draw this out or get this (likely to be a entirely undignified) orgasm out of the way.
He opts for a combination of both - lazy edging, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock and squeezing while the other tugs on the chain. The hand around his erection isn't gripping it as tight as he could be, and it also isn't moving. Chris is curious to see if he can get close to cumming just from playing with his boobs.
Adrian isn't wrong to call them that. He has breast tissue, anyone with defined pectorals does, it's just mostly muscle as opposed to fat. There is some fat in there, obviously. Chris cares about bulk as much as tone, he knows both have their place in combat and does not use BMI as a measure of physical fitness. Is it a misogyny thing? Is he afraid of being objectified the same way men objectify women who have tits?
No, that's not it. Chris actually likes being objectified sometimes. He started to get a little tired of it after he was used as a sacrifice by the United States Government in order to cover up their war crimes, but that's pretty different than Adrian saying "AWOOOga!" and wiggling his glasses suggestively whenever Chris takes off his shirt. The obvious answer is right there: Chris feels insecure about his masculinity a lot of the time, so being compared to or labeled as a term associated mainly with women makes him nervous. He loves tits, though. He recognizes that he has every reason to see the terminology as an honor, so he can see imagine using it to describe himself.
Also, it might make Adrian super flustered if he's not already expecting it. Chris might have to try that out.
For now, though, he decides to remain focused on cumming before Adrian goes on lunch. Chris does not want to give him the satisfaction of participating, even minimally, in his orgasm. He hooks the chain over his thumb and pulls, stretching both of his nipples as far as they can go and moving his hand over his cock again. "Tell me you like it," Adrian would say, and he wouldn't have to wait one second before Chris would gasp back, "I like it, I promise, I swear to God I like it, okay? I like it, Don't fucking stop doing it," and it only takes a few pumps before his chest starts to heave, adding pressure to his aching nipples and hastening his orgasm. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, ADRIAN—" He chokes out, voice cracking worse than Adrian's did at age twenty-three. His eyelids flutter and he finally spills over the edge, aware that he must look absolutely obscene.
When he cums, it feels… ideal, like this is what his body is meant to be doing, like he unlocked the last secret combo move required to have a perfect orgasm. It feels so good it hurts, aftershocks going on a direct route from his dick to his nipples and back again. His hips are still higher than his head when he finishes, and most of it lands on his chest, a few drops on his chin. He can't see himself, but he knows he looks damn fucking pretty. Adrian is going to be kicking himself that he missed this. To be sure of it, he picks up his phone and snaps another picture, (he was right, he does look pretty) to send once Adrian is on his break and Chris has already gotten him going. It should feel kind of pathetic to wait by the phone for a boy to text, but that is what he is doing and he is fucking delighted about it.
_____
Typically, Adrian tries to keep his phone in his locker at work when not at break, but when he is expecting some sort of communication he often cannot help it. Tonight, he has it on him because Chris is getting home soon and he's worried about Eagly. Chris trusts him with his bird, and he should - Adrian takes great care of him, always - but it's still a lot of pressure. He wants to be sure Chris can get in touch with him if something happened while Adrian was at work.
And, yeah, he might also be waiting to get a text like, "Hey Adrian, love the clamps, you're the best". He would not complain about that. His phone buzzes fifteen minutes before he's set to go on lunch.
He holds out for a little while, only checking when he's a couple minutes away from being able to clock out. He finally cracks, and leans his back against the door to the walk-in as he opens his messages. Chris sent a photo. For some reason, his first thought is that it is of Eagly, mortally wounded. The much more likely option, which Adrian completely forgot about, is that this is a dick pic.
10:25 PM
VGilante downloaded 390288740.jpg
It is a dick pic.
Chris is upside-down, long tongue sticking out of his mouth at the bottom of the photo and his thick cock hanging down at the top. It's shiny with lube and there's a small bead of precum gathered at the tip. And - most lovely of all - he is wearing the clamps. He has them both on, chain connecting the two, and his chest looks flushed enough to suggest he's been playing with them for a little while, now.
Adrian stumbles while standing still, crumpling to the floor for a moment before quickly standing up straight and steadying himself, using every ounce of his focus to will himself up to the register and officially clock out for lunch.
As soon as the door to the break room shuts behind him, Adrian sits down on a stool, gulps, and opens the picture again. He wishes he could make it his phone wallpaper, but regardless of how much he loves it, he needs to yell at Chris for choosing to send it at this exact time.
10:31 PM
VG: WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?????
VG: YOU CAN'T DO THAT!!!!???
VG 🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜🧜
VG: WHAT THE FUUUUUUUCK
10:33 PM
VG: i am AT WORK
VG: you are insane.
VG: god damn, fuck
VG: oh my god
VG: chris
CS: Oh, hey Adrian.
CS: So you got the photo?
VG: holy fuck
VG: holy shit
VG: opened it in the kitchen
VG: i literally almost died. my knees got weird and wobbly and I could have fallen into a vat of soup, or salad
VG: or breadsticks
Or Sicilian-Inspired Shrimp Tagliatelle, but he's pretty sure that was one of the seasonal items that changed at the start of the month. He just knows he'd really hate to fall in a vat of it. Something in the sauce was acidic as fuck. Remembering what it did to his eyes allows him to, for a moment, inhabit a world wherein he does not have a boner at work.
It is over as soon as he thinks of the photo again.
VG: i cannot believe
VG: you'r e wearing them
VG: you wore them
CS: Present tense is accurate.
Adrian groans and bites down on his fist as a preventative measure that comes several seconds too late. He is fairly certain the wall the break room shares with the remainder of the restaurant is only a supply closet. Fairly certain.
VG: good christ
CS: Way better than the last dick pic I sent, right?
CS: The book helped sooo much.
CS: That was sarcasm fyi. And I hope you kept the receipt, because I am not scandalizing our librarian with that donation.
CS: I know what the fuck I'm doing, V. I've been getting you horny for a while now.
CS: Haven't I?
10:39 PM
VGilante is typing…
…
…
10:43 PM
CS: Adrian.
10:44 PM
VG: you have. historically yes you have been. for a long time yes
VG: chris you look so fucking good.
VG: usually the "tuscan-inspired kitchen designed by a woman who wants to kill herself and then get divorced, in that order" atmosphere of fennel fields does a great job keeping any boners at bay for me
VG: but hoo boy. lets just say i'm real glad im the only one in the break room right now.
CS: That's what I thought.
CS: How much longer is your break?
VG: 15 min
CS: You're not jacking off, are you?
VG: in the break room???? no!!
CS: Alright alright, fuck! I thought probably not, just checking.
CS: Well i sympathize
CS: In fact just earlier today someone got ME in a similar situation. Made my dick ache while I was with my coworkers.
CS: Pretty fucking cruel thing to do isn't it?
10:46 PM
CSmith sent 394289344.jpg
CS: Luckily now I'm home. So I get to cum whenever and wherever the fuck I want.
VG: oh fuck tit pic
VG: yummy…
VG: so you're saying tonight you wanted to cum all over your pecs
VG: more specifically those sweet sweet nips
VG: 😋
CS: Easily my least favorite thing you have ever said about my body.
CS: Also how is viewing a titty pic and calling it "yummy" worse than rubbing one out in a breakroom?
CS: But yeah.
CS: Kinda felt like doing whatever I knew you'd be the most upset to miss
And he's right. Adrian will never ever forgive himself - or Chris - for the fact that he wasn't there the first time Chris used nipple clamps. It was Adrian's idea, too! What a fool. At least he has the photos, which he plans to request he be buried with.
CS: Pulled on the clamps when I was cumming. Bet I looked hot.
CS: Wouldn't know. No one else was there, so.
CS: I think some jizz got on my face.
Adrian can feel his heart racing. An increasingly louder voice in his head is telling him to fake food poisoning and go home early. It's only two more hours, though. He only has to be here for two more hours. In an effort for damage control, he uses a special attack, but considering how much Chris has knocked down his mana already, he knows it probably won't hit. Typically throwing some theatrical emojis into conversation annoys Chris enough to make him dial it back a little.
VG: 🤤
VG: 🤭
VG: sorry did i get drool on them haha
CS: You wish.
CS: Put your tongue back in your mouth, pervert.
CS: Goddamn. Bet when you get home, you're gonna be on me like a traumatized rescue dog with separation anxiety is on the nasty spit soaked stuffed animal he carries around, whimpering, while his owner is at their office job.
CS: Now who's disgusting?
10:50 PM
Adrian is about to text back "me, right?" before he realizes he does not want to play that much into Chris's hand again. He slams his phone face down on the counter and stands, pacing the break room with the heel of his palm pressed against his crotch in a feeble attempt to calm himself down. Why the fuck did he give Chris ammunition like that? The man is literally a professional. He soon discovers that rubbing himself in any way does more harm than good, and sits down, legs crossed, before picking up the phone and responding.
10:54 PM
VG: i'm not being disgusting it's just
VG: i mean theres so much
VG: i haven't seen you cum this much before?
VG: and your nipples are so swollen
VG: your body is basically begging for my mouth!
VG: god you look so good
CS: Yeah.
CS: I like the clamps.
Thank fuck he went with the black pants today instead of khaki, because the spot of pre forming on the front of his trousers is almost invisible on slightly shiny, pitch black fabric. Adrian sighs, heavy and overwhelmed. Physical activity never exhausts him, but emotional? Mental? That shit could put him into a coma, it wipes him out so bad. He keeps telling himself that they're only playing a game, barely different than sparring or dodging grenades thrown as a prank. Nothing to get worked up about.
And yet, here he is, sweating through his polyester polo in a windowless room.
VG: nnngh.
VG: i knew you would
CS: Don't get cocky
VG: im not!!
VG: pinky swear
VG: hey so do you think
10:55 PM
VGilante is typing…
…
10:57 PM
CS: Dude, you're running outta time.
CS: Fucking spit it out.
VG: do you think i could touch them when i get back
VG: your titties i mean
CS: Yeah.
VG: even if youre asleep?
CS: Answer doesn't change
Adrian lets out a groan that he catches slightly too late, clamping his hand over his mouth to stifle himself after the loudest part was already out. His accomplishments over the last few days are backfiring. As thrilled as he is that Chris doesn't object to his pecs being referred to as tits now, Adrian did not anticipate that hearing Peacemaker himself call them that would turn him on so much.
And why did he open his phone now? He totally set himself up for this, fucking with Peacemaker when he was at work like that. Rookie mistake. He gave Chris no choice but to upstage him - he is a man of honor, and above all, an absolutely gifted bully. Sure, he's "reformed" now, but he still knows how to roast Adrian to death, tease him back to life, and then shove him back down again with a smile on his face.
But like, in a hot way.
The really humiliating thing is how little Chris needs to say to get him worked up, past the point of no return. The pictures helped, but truly, Adrian would have been on his knees after that "I like the clamps" text alone. Adrian may not have normal feelings, but his dick is deeply emotional. For example, right now the emotion his dick is feeling is best described as, "I want to facefuck Christopher Smith". Much like its owner, Adrian's penis is complicated, an enigma, wrapped in a question, restrained by flat-front Dickies.
11:00 PM
CS: Hope the rest of your shift is fuckin swell.
CS: I'm gonna go finger myself in the shower.
With a trembling hand, Adrian turns his phone off and shoves it in the back of his locker, going so far as to bunch up a spare apron and use it to cushion the phone from the outside world. Maybe if he makes the phone invisible to the rest of the world, Adrian will be able to stop thinking about what's on it. Unfortunately, this also backfires, as the thought process makes him remember the picture Chris had sent first - of his cock, hard and leaking and in the middle of bouncing back against his stomach - and he almost vomits into the sink. He opts instead to punch himself in the stomach as hard as he possibly can in order to hard-reset his brain.
It doesn't work. His dick somehow gets harder, and he wants so badly to call it and go back to the trailer, but he isn't even sure he could make it the whole drive back without needing to pull over and jack off.
Obviously indecent exposure is not an option, so he takes a long lunch and masturbates furiously in the staff bathroom, managing to cum in just under fifty seconds. Cleanup takes another two minutes, plus the walk back to the register to clock back in. Adrian clocks in three and a half minutes late and will receive a written warning at the start of his next shift, but there's no jizz on his shoes, so he's considering this a victory.
12:12 AM
CS: I can't sleep.
CS: Im taking one of the melatonin gummies you left on my nightstand.
CS: Yes the permission to slobber all over my tits still stands but clean up after yourself. I don't feel like changing the sheets because you got spit all over them again
CS: I'd compare you to a doberman but at least you can train those.
CS: anyway goodnight. XO
_____
He gets off work, reads the new messages from Chris, and tries desperately to convince himself to speed driving home. It doesn't fly, and he gets there in his usual seventeen minutes. He pulls into the driveway slowly, not wanting to wake Chris up, even taking his shoes off outside so he can tiptoe to bed with the softest step possible. His tenderness is tested when he sees his best friend bathed in moonlight, laying on his back, and naked, one clamp still attached to his left nipple. Adrian takes a sharp breath in, chomping down on his lower lip upon a short exhale. He is aware that, firstly, Chris is exhausted and very deserving of a good night's sleep— should not be woken up, and second, Chris is a heavy sleeper, heavier still when he's this worn out— and probably won't wake up unless Adrian gets bitey.
That is an intimidating caveat, though. It is a challenge for Adrian to keep his teeth to himself on a good day, and tonight he is punchy from working a double and really missed Chris during his trip. The reward for restraining himself is so good that he thinks he has to be able to do it, by willpower alone. He can totally do it. He just wants to suck on them a little bit. Maybe take off that clamp for him, do it slow so the shock of that transition doesn't wake him up. Adrian could have his mouth on that nipple the second the clamp comes off, so the warmth that had spread into and over his breast would not suddenly be replaced by cool air. His tongue may not be as long as Chris's, but it's long enough to cover a nipple.
He swallows hard and starts tossing various pieces of his work uniform onto the floor until he's down to his boxer-briefs. One of his knees rests on the bed as he clambers over Chris onto his side of it - at the moment, Chris is sleeping diagonally - and leaves his glasses on the side table.
Earlier today, Adrian took some time to play with and study the clamps, so he feels confident in his ability to remove one gently enough that Chris won't wake up. He lays a hand on his best friend's stomach, taking a second to gaze at him like he's done so many times behind his mask. Without putting weight on that hand, Adrian leans down and presses his mouth to the center of Chris's chest before he migrates to the left, lips drifting over the other man's skin.
Chris does not react. He's breathing softly, nostrils flaring a little when he exhales, and Adrian smiles at the sight of Peacemaker safe at home. He never gets tired of seeing him in this bed. During the years Chris was in prison, Vigilante came by the trailer semi-regularly to check if he was back yet, usually stalling a moment outside his bedroom window to stare at the empty bed. It looked so sad, like it knew nobody would fuck in it for a long time. The thought broke Adrian's heart.
That is in the past, though. The bed sees plenty of action now, arguably too much given the state of the springs in the mattress. It won't have to work very hard tonight, though, because Adrian is keeping things as mellow as possible. He just needs to feel Chris up a little bit to chill out enough to fall asleep. Their earlier conversation got him all kinds of worked up, but since he did manage to have an orgasm, he's not ready and raring to go - just eager for a little heavy petting before he dozes off.
Adrian's hand hovers over the clamp, inching closer before getting a still, firm grip. As he compresses it, loosening its grip on Chris, he moves his lips closer and closer to his nipple. He's breathing through his mouth, trying to keep the immediate area warm. When the clamp opens enough to slip off without pulling, Adrian moves it out of the way and replaces it with his tongue, flattening it against Chris's nipple. His teeth are as far away from it as possible, covered by lips and tongue. Chris sighs, which startles Adrian but does not cause him to flinch. He glances up and, despite his awkward angle, is fairly certain he can see the other man smiling. He starts to move his tongue, and he's not not aggressive or hungry like usual— it's just a slow back and forth combined with the lowering of his lips. Adrian's mouth forms a barrier between his sore skin and the air. He is curled up at Chris's side, head on his chest, when he feels him start to shift. He freezes, afraid he's woken him up, but Chris does not open his eyes. His arm moves, though, as if by muscle memory, and his hand settles in Adrian's hair.
Adrian is, of course, delighted. The hand doesn't move, Chris does not scritch his scalp or comb through his hair with his fingers, but that's fine. It means he's still asleep, which means Adrian has accomplished his goal and can chill out for real, now. He suckles on Peacemaker's chest as he is held by him, and the soothing combination of his partner's heartbeat against his ear and his skin against his tongue has him falling asleep in just a few minutes.