Work Text:
"I think if we strike the library one more time, we might find something," Gansey says, trying to sound optimistic, rather than desolate, which is what he feels. "Mount an offense. Scour their grounds."
"Spend another eight hours trawling through their paper records," Adam says drily. He drops his bag next to Gansey's desk and brings out some sheets of paper and a scrappy old pencil, making a few notes at the bottom. Adam's handwriting is always tightly cramped, like the letters are trying to take up as little room as possible, but it's neat and legible, and that's enough for Gansey. Later, he'll take the pages that Adam's transcribed from Gansey's ramblings and try to coalesce them into his journal, re-writing some into the margins and using paperclips and sticky notes and glue to fit more clips of paper inside.
"Exactly." Gansey takes the notes from Adam and scans over them, using a red pen to leave little five-point stars next to the points he considers especially important.
Gansey knows he's avoiding Cabeswater; after Mr Whelk had died in the stampede, after the sacrifice, he couldn't stomach going back without knowing more about it. Gansey also knows that Adam knows that he's avoiding Cabeswater, and Adam likely also knows that Gansey doesn't know what to do with Adam. The sacrifice had changed him, unquestioningly, turned him more mystery than boy, dragging him further away from Gansey with every strange occurrence and uncanny misstep. The heat of summertime means that everyone complains about being inside a stuffy library all day every time they gather, and Gansey can feel himself losing his grip on it all.
Adam starts digging through the little stack of drawers next to the table. "Highlighters?" he asks.
"Somewhere in there." Gansey waves a hand, and Adam makes his way down the messily organized drawers with his typical methodical nature.
Gansey flips the page and hears Adam scrabbling over pens and binder clips and miscellaneous trinkets that Gansey's picked up and decided belong in that particular drawer. Possibly there are also rocks and shiny things Ronan's dumped in there because he doesn't want to deal with the consequences of Chainsaw's scavenging.
"What is this?" Adam demands. His voice has taken on a dark tone, unpleasant and challenging, and Gansey's shoulders instantly draw up at the shift.
"What?" Gansey peers over into the drawer Adam has open. "Oh."
There's a long, thick object inside, tossed there after an impulse purchase had spurred Gansey to buy the purple thing. He could specifically remember the day: a few months ago, after lackluster masturbation and a few minutes browsing porn websites, he'd gone down a rabbit hole and ended up on a sex toy website. The bright violet hue and the positive reviews had had Gansey drawing out his credit card and punching in the numbers before he fully thought it through. One week later when the package arrived, he opened it, buried the wrapping in a garbage bag, and covered the toy with scrap paper, telling himself that it was just his libido that had made him do it. It appears he didn’t hide it well enough. "It assists with pleasure," Gansey says, trying his best to keep his voice level. “It’s a dildo.” For some reason, Adam likes it when he's prude, and right now he doesn't want to give him that satisfaction.
"I know what a dildo is," Adam says impatiently, making Gansey wince uncomfortably with his bluntness. "Why do you have it?"
"Well, you asked what it is, not why it’s there," Gansey says, stiffening his shoulders. He feels affronted. His own private purchases are his business. Adam can feel whatever way he wants to about them, but Gansey refuses to feel bad for thinking of Adam. He has a heightened awareness of how touchy Adam is about Gansey spending money on him, and the sex toy hadn't been cheap.
"There's a harness in here." Gansey can see Adam carefully avoiding touching the dildo, as though he hadn't had his fingers inside Gansey as recently as last week. Adam pulls out a mess of black straps tangled together, dangling it from one thin, mocking finger.
"It's for the dildo to go in," Gansey says tightly. There’s a metal ring somewhere in there, which the purple length slides into, stopped by its flared base and pressed firmly against the crotch of the person wearing the harness. It’s a strap-on, is what it really is. Gansey had entertained the idea of trying it on, but it felt pointless, without someone to use it on. It serves its purpose more as a tool than as an extension of his body.
The truth is, Gansey couldn’t stop imagining Adam, spread out beneath him, begging Gansey for it, letting Gansey fuck him until he comes, maybe once, maybe more. The desire for and possibility of that scenario had possessed him until he’d dropped slightly over a hundred dollars on it, then the shame and embarrassment and likelihood of rejection had stopped him from seeing it through.
He doesn’t even know if Adam would like it like that, if he’d like Gansey like that. Adam has so many more tricky parts than Gansey, times he won’t let himself be touched or times that he’ll run himself into the ground trying to prove something. He shuts himself away so often. Gansey wishes Adam would just let him see all of him, the messy, complicated pieces he can’t tell anyone else.
They don’t talk about it, not a lot. Just because both of them are trans doesn’t mean they have everything in common. When they argue about it, Adam is quick to bring up the scars on Gansey’s chest and the hair that grows thick on his thighs from the hormones. Gansey never has anything to say to that; hair still won’t grow on his face or chest, and sometimes he feels like he’s being compressed into a smaller and smaller shape by the expectations of everyone he knows. But Adam’s right that Gansey is more fortunate than him. Gansey’s parents hadn’t beaten the hearing out of his left ear when they found a letter from an all-boy’s school in his room. They’d barely acknowledged it at all.
Adam rises, and Gansey takes a step back, apprehension and that eternal presence, shame, welling up in him. “Really, Gansey?” Adam hisses. It’s like the more vicious version of what his parents used to say; really, Gansey? Are you sure? Could it be just a phase? It’s not an issue to be athletic as a girl, just look at Helen’s water polo trophies. Except they hadn’t called him Gansey, then, they’d called him something else. It had taken a folder full of evidence and the opinion of a few doctors and colleagues to convince them of his surety and legitimacy. Gansey shakes his head minutely.
“Just put it back if you hate the idea so much,” Gansey says, coldness setting in. “Christ, I wasn’t the one who brought it up.” Adam loves to drag things out into the light, to run his hands over them and worry the wound. He won’t back down and he won’t let it go and he won’t listen to Gansey.
“You were the one who bought it,” Adam says. “How much did this even cost?” He jangles the harness accusingly, eyebrow raised, the picture of derision. There’s offense underneath it, which makes Gansey’s insides twist. No matter what he does he can never keep the peace between them. It always seems to come back to money with Adam.
“Does it matter?” Gansey says, an evasive answer.
“So a lot, then.” Adam gives him a look and drops the harness back into the drawer. “Did it make you feel better? Did it get you off?”
Gansey feels blindsided by Adam’s question. It’s so out of pocket that he can’t stop what comes spilling out of his mouth. “I haven’t even used it,” he says, then adds snippily, “Not all of us are sex-crazed.”
It’s a low blow, especially considering that every time Adam has instigated, Gansey has met him where he’s at and given as good as he’s got. This strange arrangement of theirs is barely functioning but stays alive through their secret, passionate trysts and the loyalty that keeps Adam coming back to Gansey and Gansey accepting Adam over and over.
Sometimes Gansey imagines that there’s a magical thread that links the two of them together. It’s the only way to explain their miraculous meeting and Adam’s initial confessions to Gansey, inspired by deep and unusual trust from a wary and skeptical boy. Gansey might never know why Adam decided to tell Gansey he worked as a mechanic that first time they met; his working-class status is a source of shame for him, something that he hides from other Aglionby boys. For some reason, Gansey is special to him, and Gansey will selfishly bask in that specialness as long as he is able.
It's something about that specialness that will have Adam coming over to Monmouth and giving Gansey thorough, dedicated oral, or rutting against his thigh while they lean against a nearby wall, or hooking their legs together to grind lazily while Adam decorates Gansey’s collar with bite marks and Gansey twists a hand in Adam’s hair. Once, Adam had kissed Gansey in the Camaro as thanks for a ride, which quickly devolved into fucking in the backseat until Adam was satisfied and Gansey was sweaty. It’s the specialness, along with Gansey’s pleading, that makes Adam stay sometimes and lay on Gansey’s side while they share sweet, little kisses that give Gansey heart palpitations.
Gansey isn’t exactly sure why Adam comes to him as often as he does. He knows that Adam has a high libido, clearly, and in quiet moments he’s made short, sharp references to his dysphoria and said that Gansey understands it better than anyone else he knows. It’s not a high bar to jump, but it had made Gansey feel special, which is really all he ever wants from Adam. To be special to him. For this to mean something.
It's not fair to call Adam sex-crazed without pointing out that Gansey is just as wanton and has thrown himself at Adam his own fair share. The night he came over to St Agnes unannounced didn’t start out well – it started with an argument about Gansey impeaching on Adam’s privacy, because Gansey had walked in on Adam jerking off – but it had ended with Gansey getting to watch Adam ride his fingers, so he thinks it worked out.
Adam hasn’t permitted it to happen again, inundated with work and exams and more work, and it’s only now, at the very beginning of summer, that he’s even begun to ease off. At the very least, Adam doesn’t have to spend late nights pouring over textbooks and study questions, but he now has to spend them hunched over the hood of a car or bent over boxes at the warehouse. How Gansey wishes he could sleep with Adam in his bed, just for one night.
“I am not sex-crazed,” Adam says sharply.
“No, of course not,” Gansey says, just as icy. “You’re not searching for an opportunity to bend me over the desk, even now?”
It’s unfair, because really, it was Gansey who was thinking about bending Adam over the desk and kissing down his neck until it inevitably leads to something more. But what’s just as unfair is the way Adam reacts to it.
“I’d hardly need to bother,” Adam snaps. “You can come just from me looking at you the wrong way."
It’s a gross exaggeration and an offensive misrepresentation of his character, so Gansey tells him so. “Please,” he adds, “Tell me exactly when you’ve complained about my sensitivity?”
Adam glares. “Obviously you’re complaining about it, if you’ve gone and bought this. Are my fingers not good enough for you anymore?”
“They are perfectly satisfactory for my pleasure,” Gansey says through gritted teeth, irritation mounting at this baseless accusation. “What is your point?”
He’s not happy to see Adam scoff and cross his arms over his chest, turning away. "Are you serious, Gansey?" Adam mocks. "I'm sorry I don't have the equipment to satisfy you. I didn't think you needed cock so badly that you'd go out and get a fake one just to fuck yourself on.”
“Jesus Christ,” Gansey says, shaking his head. “You’re so caught up in yourself you can’t even imagine an alternative.” Adam’s about to open his mouth, furious, so Gansey rushes on. “It’s not for me, it’s for you.”
“It’s for me!” Adam repeats, spinning back to face him, still fired up. It only makes Gansey more frustrated. “What the hell, Gansey?”
“I bought it because I wanted to please you,” Gansey snaps. “God forbid I ever do anything nice for you. God forbid I steamroll over the principles that you care about more than me. God forbid I do anything for you at all, Adam!”
“It’s not about that,” Adam says loudly, though it most certainly is. “You act like you’re better than me, like you’re some white knight. Don’t treat me like a helpless maiden to be saved by the great Gansey. I’m not a conquest.”
“I’m sorry, do I appear domineering you? I thought we were blowing off steam together.” They’re the wrong words; this isn’t just fun to Gansey, but they’re a mockery of what Adam whispered to him after an early morning makeout. What is this? We’re just blowing off some steam. Right?
“I am not your fucktoy,” Adam shouts.
“I have never treated you like that!”
Gansey wants Adam to huddle into his arms; Gansey wants Adam to kiss him; Gansey wants Adam to miss him when he’s gone. Gansey doesn’t want them to fight. He doesn’t believe that Adam wanted a fight, either. Maybe he just wanted to blow off some steam, Gansey thinks to himself bitterly.
Adam changes tracks. They’re winding down now, the yelling over. This is only going to end in disaster. “I’m not gonna bend to your will just because you want me to spread my legs for you,” he says lowly.
“I never asked you to.” Gansey feels tragic, like this has all gone wrong. If Adam would just see… “I only wanted to have the option. If you wanted me like that.”
Neither of them have the anatomy for penetration. Gansey’s never cared either way; his body has always been his own. But other people care, and he needs to fulfill that desire, achieve those expectations. The condition for his belonging is that he has to perform that role.
“I don’t want it like this,” Adam says heatedly, and it sounds like: I don’t want you. He shakes his head and stares down at the drawer with the harness and dildo inside, hanging open. He kicks it shut with his foot, harder than he needs to.
Gansey leans back against the table and watches Adam out of the corner of his eye. Adam’s body has been beaten down over and over, taken and sacrificed and pulled in so many different directions he can’t keep himself on the right path. Gansey knows it’s different for him. He knows that Adam has a fierce sense of independence and a tight grip on control that he doesn’t dare let slip. He knows how much he hates himself, his skin, how helpless he is to the power of other people’s perception. Gansey wants to tell Adam that he sees him, that he knows what it’s like, but he’s not entirely sure that he does.
“Alright, then.” Gansey shrugs widely. “Don’t.”
Adam grabs Gansey’s Aglionby-issue tie and kisses him like he’s making a point. Gansey doesn’t know what point, but he’s not going to argue it this time. “I won’t,” Adam says, picks up his bag, and storms out.
Gansey wipes the back of his mouth with his hand. That’s that.
It’s tense between them. Everyone notices, and that just makes Gansey feel more embarrassed. They can’t say why, obviously. Adam drifts away from all of them, distant and strange and someone not quite himself at times, and it only makes Gansey worry more. He thinks Adam’s doing this to himself, furthering himself from his friends because he’s convinced himself he’s irretrievable. Adam is wrong.
Gansey wants to apologize, but he can’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t drive Adam further away. Words have always been Gansey’s power but they’re also his weakness when it comes to Adam. It’s so much easier when they’re not talking, when they’re one singular, writhing beast on the bedsheets, but Gansey’s always liked Adam’s mouth far too much to let him stay silent for long.
Gansey picks him up after work on their way to the library and starts chattering about the archived documents he’s hoping to find, and Adam engages politely if a touch frostily. Gansey makes Adam laugh with a sly joke about the old librarian who is clearly enamored with Ronan and his impossible presence inside the building, and like that they’re alright again.
He feels Adam watching him while they’re sifting through old papers in the basement. Ronan has gone outside to kick rocks in the parking lot while Blue chats the librarian up, and Gansey followed Adam downstairs into the quiet.
They make their way through the documents, searching for mentions of power outages or strange electrical fluctuations. Adam hands a few to Gansey for appraisement, which Gansey counts as a win, as well as an asset to his research.
When they meet in the middle of the row, Adam turns to him, putting a hand on his arm. Gansey feels it like a brand. “Anything good?” Adam says quietly, respectful of the silence in the room. It makes his voice come out breathy and low, straining to reach that pitch, painfully attractive, and Gansey wants to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.
He blinks back to himself. “Some promising pieces… a few red herrings, I think. But overall there’s a few prospectives.”
Adam nods. “Sure. Let’s go, then? Before Ronan thinks of something better to do than vandalizing property.”
Gansey agrees with a short smile. “Let’s.”
Two weeks after their argument, Adam pounces on Gansey at the garage.
Adam is working late and Gansey is picking him up to take him to Monmouth after. When Gansey arrives, twenty minutes before Adam’s shift finishes, he’s the only one left. “Boyd asked me to finish something before closing up. You can sit on the couch.”
Gansey takes a seat on the couch, having brought his journal to comb through again. It’s a soothing technique that he does when especially stressed, and he feels stressed. Ronan won’t stop racing, Adam still speaks to him stiltedly, and he can’t stop offending Blue. He can’t shake the feeling that none of them need him, that they’d be better off without him. Happier if they’d never met him.
He looks up when Adam approaches him. His hands are scrubbed clean and he’s slightly sweaty. “Come on,” he says, pulling Gansey up.
“Where are we going?” Gansey asks as Adam leads him into the back and through a couple doorways to a small closet.
Adam pushes them inside and flicks on an old, warm lightbulb hanging overhead. “You’re going to let me get you off,” Adam says, and makes quick work of undoing Gansey’s shorts.
Gansey sets his journal on a low shelf, and Adam puts his mouth between Gansey’s legs and licks him until he gasps, hand over his mouth, and his knees shake uncontrollably with his orgasm rolling through him. Adam holds onto his thighs and breathes over him before pulling back.
“Is that better?” he asks, a little ironically.
“Yes,” Gansey says, unable to construct himself quite yet. After another moment or two, he says, “What?”
Adam shrugs. “You seemed… upset.”
Gansey was upset, and now he isn’t, but he thinks maybe on principle he should still be upset. “And you thought sex would help with that?” he asks stiffly.
“Yeah,” Adam says. He’s right, of course. Adam being close to Gansey is almost always a remedy for any hurt.
He stands and braces himself against Gansey, who’s been leaned against the wall to prevent him from collapsing. The first time his knees had given out from under him was humiliating enough for him to not want to repeat the incident.
Adam kisses him, much more nicely than usual. Gansey sighs into it and opens his mouth, hands squeezing at Adam’s waist, warmth everywhere, and something buzzes loudly from outside.
Adam’s quick hands have already settled Gansey’s underwear and shorts back into place, done up and belt buckled to the perfect tightness. He pulls back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, tidying it of any remnants of Gansey’s slick. “C’mon,” he says. “We’ll be late.”
Gansey feels out of breath, like he’s been spun around too many times and hasn’t quite caught up with what direction he’s supposed to be heading. “Right,” he says. He can still taste Adam in his mouth. “You don’t-?”
“There’s no time,” Adam says. He swallows. His eyes are dark. “I’ve already clocked out. Come on.” He makes his way through the maze of spare parts and doorways and shuts the last one behind them, lock clicking decisively; they’re outside in the muggy parking lot. Broken-down cars are spotted around the edges. The Camaro looks like a fantasy in comparison.
They get in and Gansey starts the Pig. It takes a few hesitant rumbles, but she’s up and running without much delay. Adam looks like he’s working through something, turning over and over in his head, but he doesn’t say anything.
“I wish you’d talk to me,” Gansey says.
“I do talk to you,” Adam returns. “I’m talking to you right now.”
Gansey shakes his head. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
Adam doesn’t reply for a long time. “Do you really want to fuck me with that thing?” he asks abruptly. Gansey blanches and resolves himself as best he can.
“Yes,” he says decisively. Surer than ever that he wants to give Adam something new, something fresh and more than before. If Adam wants him to, he wants it. “You only have to ask.”
It’s slightly cruel, and Gansey catches Adam’s hand squeezing into a fist then flattening itself over his thigh. They don’t speak for the rest of the drive.
Three days after that conversation, Adam calls Gansey from the church phone.
“Come over,” he says into the receiver.
Gansey checks the time. He knows Adam’s just gotten off an eight-hour shift. It’s evening. “What, now?”
“Yes.”
Adam’s voice is firm, if a little annoyed. Gansey isn’t sure what he’s done; he’s spoken two words so far. “…Alright.”
In the Camaro, he tries to think why Adam could have asked. He wants to tell me it’s off in person. Something’s wrong. Cabeswater’s taking control. Something’s wrong. Something’s gone terribly wrong.
Knocking on the door of his room, Gansey is tense with anxiety. He smiles at Adam proprietarily in the doorway. “You called?”
“I’m tired,” Adam says. His voice sounds scraped over, a little thin, like he’s trying too hard to keep it together. “But you can fuck me.”
“Oh,” Gansey says, startled. Adam is wearing a thin t-shirt and loose boxers; not abnormal sleeping attire, especially in St Agnes’ sweltering attic space that Adam occupies, but it’s cast in a new light with Adam’s opening.
Adam sits cross-legged on his shitty floor mattress and rolls the dildo across the bed. “I took it,” he says needlessly.
The first thing Gansey feels is betrayal. First Adam stole his car, stole the ley line, and now he steals the thing that Gansey wanted to please him with. The second thing Gansey feels is mortification; the idea of this cock doesn’t change anything about Gansey either way, and it doesn’t make him more or less of a man, in his view. But Adam, at least, seems to feel a great deal of dysphoria over his lack of a penis, and some amount of envy over Gansey’s clitoral growth, given how viciously he sometimes sucks at it. Adam would probably like it more if Gansey had a real cock to fuck him with. That’s what makes Gansey wretched inside. But the next thing Gansey feels is realization, then arousal that overwhelms all other thought and comes down to: touch him. “Oh,” he repeats.
Adam watches quietly as Gansey kneels on the bed and seals their lips together. Gansey closes his eyes and when he opens his again, Adam’s have fallen shut.
“Do you want me to fuck you with this?” Gansey asks nicely, in between kisses feathered against Adam’s jawline.
“Yes, fine,” Adam snaps. “Come on, Gansey. Get moving.”
Gansey gets moving. A thrill runs through him, making him clench in anticipation. He’s not the one being filled, but he’s excited by the prospect of being inside Adam, stretching him and making him shiver with fullness. “Alright, relax now,” he whispers, kissing his cheek once more.
He rids Adam of his boxers and tugs at his shirt hem. Adam shakes his head, so Gansey leaves it. They’ve had enough fights about knowing what’s under it and how long Adam wears his punishingly tight sports bra for and how Gansey doesn’t care what Adam looks like. They’ve never gone anywhere and Gansey has learned to accept that Adam’s different, that he’s self-conscious where Gansey is not.
He pulls Adam’s legs up and towards him, making Adam’s torso flop against the bed, and he jumps straight to sucking purple and pink marks onto his thighs. They’re the only place he’ll allow Gansey to leave them, everywhere else too obvious because of the occasions when Adam has to wear a shirt without a collar. Gansey’s neck is free game, of course, given his proclivity for polo shirts.
“You don’t want me to try here?” Gansey asks, letting his hand trail down to pull at the round of Adam’s ass. They’ve only tried it that way once or twice, neither being very successful. Gansey enjoys it more than Adam does, and that usually makes Adam feel bad about himself, too.
“Jesus, one thing at a time, Gansey,” Adam says. “No. Just… the usual.”
The usual is Adam sighing shakily as Gansey licks over his core, warm warm warm. He’s just starting to become wet, a shininess over his hole, and Gansey uses his finger to smear it upwards and brush over him. Adam puts his arms over his face, no noise. Gansey intends to change that.
He’s slow, just using his tongue, not his full mouth. Adam starts to squirm after a while, muttering, “Gansey,” displeased and impatient like he always gets when Gansey takes too long. In response, Gansey finally slides two fingers inside all at once, and Adam groans.
Gansey’s too busy gently sucking over the spot that will make Adam’s thighs shake to talk, so it’s quiet for now, except for Adam’s hitched breaths and the sloppy sounds of Gansey’s mouth. He adds another finger after a few minutes of gentle movement when Adam’s loosened, and he drops a kiss to the joint of his leg.
“Is this helping?” he says, and Adam nods, then groans again when Gansey crooks his fingers. He doesn’t want to make Adam feel too good yet, unless… “Do you want me to make you come first?”
Adam hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. Please.”
Gansey realizes he hasn’t touched Adam like this since before the argument. It’s a privilege to spread three fingers inside him and rub them over his walls, make him moan, make him tremble and then make him come with a hard press of his index finger.
Adam breathes out, a careful release. Gansey wants to make him lose that control. “Keep – just, keep your fingers inside me,” he instructs, still shaking but trying badly to still himself. "It's big. Bigger’n three.”
“Do you want another?” Gansey says, fingers still, but impatient to move.
“Not yet,” Adam says. “Just… oh… yeah.” Gansey has moved his hand again, too restless, scissoring his fingers out to apply delicious pressure inside him. “Keep going.”
Gansey keeps going. Doing this the way Adam wants is the requirement for their continuation, and God, Gansey wants to see what Adam looks like underneath him, stuffed full. Some sort of sick feeling seeps into his stomach and Gansey deals with it by working his fingers harder. He burns with the knowledge of Adam in front of him, letting Gansey do this, the most intimate of actions. Only Gansey has this honor, this secret, and only Gansey knows how it feels.
“More,” Adam gasps, and Gansey works his pinky finger inside. It’s so small it can’t make much of a difference, but Adam muffles such a noise that Gansey licks him again in gratitude. “Shiiiit,” he says. “Yeah. Yeah.”
“Yeah?” Gansey says, a bit teasing. “That good?”
“Yes.” Adam takes his arms away from his face finally and props himself up on his elbows. “Out.”
Gansey pauses, then withdraws his fingers. “Why’d you stop, if it was good?” he asks, wounded.
Adam gives him a look. “Main event.” He kicks the dildo with his bare foot; Gansey hopes he’s showered recently. Perhaps they should disinfect it. “I washed it.” Well then. Maybe Adam really can read minds.
Gansey picks up the black harness slung next to it. It’s a complicated jumble of buckles and black leather lengths, and he begins to unravel it. Adam’s hands join him a moment later, affectionate smile curved across his face as he brings one loop through another. Gansey gets caught on it and Adam ends up fixing the tangle. “There,” he says, the straps suddenly in a recognizable shape. “Try that on.”
Feeling foolish, Gansey shucks off his pants, then after a moment of thought, his underwear, too. Not wanting to look ridiculous, he removes his shirt as well. It’s hot, and sweat slides along his lower back. He’s completely naked in front of Adam, every part of him on display. He wishes Adam could do the same for him, but this is enough; Adam’s eyes tracking Gansey as he rises, dark and desirous.
He steps into two loops, balancing on his knees, bringing the harness up to rest low over his hips. He tightens the buckle there while Adam helps adjust the ones below his ass. His approving hum makes Gansey’s face warm, along with the liberal squeeze his gives.
“It looks nice on you,” Adam offers, expression genuine. Gansey leans down and kisses him, feeling hot and heady. “You forgot the most important part, though.”
Right. The dildo.
Gansey loosens the waist buckle again to tilt the dildo through the metal ring. It makes it more real, the weight of it bobbing in front of him, Adam’s fingers deftly tightening the straps again. “Like that?” he asks, tugging on it, and Gansey nods.
He strokes a hand over the largeness of it. It feels alien, strange, but the way Adam looks at him with it is incredible. He wants it bad, and Gansey is going to give it to him.
“Did you actually think about using this, or did you just choose the biggest, most expensive one?” he asks, a touch of irritation in his voice. It’s mixed in with that tone Gansey knows so well, the inferno of want that rages inside him. Gansey bites his cheek.
“Did you steal my lubricant, or just my sex toy?” Gansey says pointedly, and Adam tosses him the bottle.
He slicks the dildo, then his fingers, pushing three of them back inside Adam. He’s a little tighter than before, and Gansey firmly works out that tension. “Besides, it’s not like I had a baseline to go off of,” he mutters. “How am I supposed to know the average size of a penis?”
“Google,” Adam says, hanging on by a thread. Gansey can tell it won’t take much before he asks for it. “How big is it? Seven inches?”
Gansey shrugs, purposefully causing his hand to shift inside Adam. Adam twitches on the bed. “I didn’t look at the measurements.”
“Of course,” Adam mutters under his breath, then inhales when Gansey spreads his fingers again. “Think I’m good now.”
“Alright,” Gansey says, and doesn’t stop fingering him.
Adam grits his teeth. “Come on. I said I’m good. Just do it already.”
“Do what?”
Adam lets out a painful, annoyed sigh. “Fuck me, Gansey.”
Pleased, Gansey removes his fingers and wipes his fingers on Adam’s sheets. “Of course.”
Before Gansey can try to wrangle the dick into Adam, Adam grabs his shoulder and meets him halfway for a bruising kiss. Gansey loves when Adam gets like this; needing, needy, letting Gansey trail a gentle hand over his hip as long as he can bury his low whine in Gansey’s neck. He’s almost sweet, in a rough way, nipping Gansey’s shoulder as Gansey squeezes the softness of his thigh. “Ready?” Gansey murmurs.
Adam nods, falling back, and Gansey guides the dick to Adam’s hole and slowly pushes in.
Without even having any sensation in the object, he can tell it’s tight. If not by the way Adam inhales quietly, by the resistance and the sight of his hole squeezing around it.
Only the tip is inside. Gansey feels ravenous. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” Adam says, voice all knotted up. “Keep going.”
Gansey strokes a hand over his belly and does as he’s told. He pulls his hips back then forward again, watching the scrunch of Adam’s forehead as he stares up at the ceiling. He thinks it probably aches, even if it doesn’t hurt. He moves slower. Adam’s self-destructive tendencies are not as obvious as Ronan’s, but they crop up at odd times. Gansey won’t let himself be an accomplice to Adam’s disorder. He taps his arm. “Doing okay?”
“God, just stop talking,” Adam says in a rush. “Keep going.”
“Fine.” Gansey continues the pace, pushing in a little more at a time. It's strange and new, getting into the rhythm of thrusting into Adam, and he imagines it rather like the pistons on a train; pushing in and rolling back in the same motion, a continuous loop of pleasure.
It feels like making Adam his, in a way that Adam would hate. Gansey wisely keeps this thought to himself, ducking to kiss Adam’s shoulder instead. Being able to fuck Adam like this makes his stomach tighten, and his hole, too. He doesn’t think Adam will be up for pleasuring him after the sheer intensity of this act.
He’s almost all the way in. Gansey rocks his hips experimentally, a slight upwards motion, and Adam moans like he didn’t expect it to come flying out of his mouth. He smothers the end of it with his palm, so Gansey takes his hand and holds it to the mattress. “I like it when you make noise,” he pouts, and Adam rolls his eyes.
His attitude is ironed out with another thrust, the cock rubbing inside him. “F-fuck,” Adam swears, heels dragging down the bed, squirming too much.
“Hold still,” Gansey says, pulling almost all the way out. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
Adam drags a hand over his face, desperation obvious in every micro-movement. “Gansey,” he says, almost angry with how horny he is. “Come on.” Gansey shakes his head, and Adam gives in quickly. “Go slower, then.”
“Anything to get me back inside you, huh?” Gansey says with a mean twist. He slides back inside, one inch at a time, and Adam’s mouth wobbles.
Gansey thinks about what it would be like if he fucked Adam with a real cock of his own. If Adam would squeeze him tightly, throw his head back and let go. If Adam would moan the same. If he’d be more or less jealous, if he’d hate Gansey more or love him more. “You like it,” he whispers, just to hear Adam’s stuttering gasp confirm it.
"Is it alright?" he says, still moving his hips slowly. Adam nods, breath catching.
“Is it all the way in?” Adam asks, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. “It feels better, now.”
“Good,” Gansey whispers. He checks down; almost. “Think you can take one more inch?”
Adam nods, face creased in determination. Gansey wants to fill Adam up and stuff him so full he can’t breathe. Feed him a seven-course meal then fuck him stupid. Jesus Christ.
“Deep breath,” Gansey whispers, then pushes in the rest of the way. Adam cries out, high and gorgeous, and Gansey shoves his tongue into Adam’s mouth to quiet him.
He stays seated in Adam, pressed right to the base of the cock, letting him adjust while he kisses him so hard that they’re both left breathless. Adam opens his eyes, wide and sharp. “Come on,” he says. “Move, Gansey.”
Gansey falls into a rhythm of out and in, steady waves, tilting his hips up as they bump against Adam’s thighs. He wraps one hand around one of those beautiful thighs and braces the other next to Adam’s side, leaning down to make out with him like he has to taste Adam’s saliva just to survive this moment.
Adam is panting, breathing clearly strained, mouth open and there for the taking. Gansey rakes his teeth along Adam's bottom lip then sucks on it, tasting faint notes of ham sandwich, probably Adam’s last meager meal. Adam makes a noise and tries to kiss back; he struggles to keep focus enough to press his mouth to Gansey's, and Gansey feels his stomach swoop at the thought of how badly he's affecting Adam.
“Does it feel good?” Gansey murmurs. “To feel me fuck you with my cock?”
“Gansey, that’s filthy,” Adam says, but he doesn’t sound disgusted or exasperated. Rather, he sounds turned on, delighted, taken apart. A choked laugh spills out of his mouth. “Shit.”
“It’s your cock, really,” Gansey goes on, nudging Adam’s waist. “Because it’s for you, Adam, it’s all for you. This is yours.”
Adam sighs, seeming to finally let something go. He doesn’t soften with it, necessarily, but he drags Gansey closer and kisses him fiercely. “You keep stopping,” he says irritably. “Don’t.”
Gansey realizes he’s gotten caught up talking to Adam about fucking him and forgotten about actually fucking him, so he remedies that by speeding up. He thinks he’s got the hang of a rhythm of movement, pressing inside Adam firmly, stretching him open so he has to bite his tongue. Gansey reaches down to rub over the bundle of nerves, above where the strap-on (Jesus, he feels dirty) is disappearing inside of Adam.
Adam’s hips jump up and he shouts, Gansey slamming into him at the same moment, creating a teetering moment of sudden pleasure. Adam groans through his teeth as he comes.
“Ah, ah,” he pants afterward, face twisted as his orgasm tears through him. “Fuck. It’s big.”
Gansey squeezes his hip. “Painful?”
“A little.” Adam shifts, and his expression eases. “Oh, god…”
Gansey kisses his forehead. It’s a miracle that Adam doesn’t fight back against it, but he seems rather unreserved right now. Gansey likes him this way, and he wants to keep him like that for as long as possible.
Slowly, Gansey pulls out of Adam. Adam makes a whining noise low in his throat as the cock flops in front of Gansey, wet and shiny. “God,” he says shakily.
Gansey feels a sharp desire to lick Adam clean, so he does. He inadvertently makes him come again, so close to the edge, and Gansey delights in the way Adam’s thighs tremble uncontrollably. “So good,” he mumbles, kissing Adam’s belly where he’s subtly ridden up his t-shirt. “You looked so good, Adam.”
Adam eyes the toy, hanging between Gansey’s legs in its bright purple silicone glory. “I don’t think you know what you look like,” he says lowly, obviously exhausted from both work and the sex. “Gansey…”
He reaches, tugging Gansey forward by a strap, and Gansey shuffles forwards on his knees. Adam pulls off the harness, letting the dick drop to his dirtied sheets. Gansey doesn’t get it. Wasn’t it the strap-on that did it for Adam?
Adam pushes him down and rolls onto his side, fingers searching to check how wet Gansey is. “You enjoyed yourself,” he comments.
“So did you,” Gansey replies. Adam’s hand starts to move between his legs and he lets them fall open wider. “You did like the strap-on, yes?”
“I liked it,” Adam says. He drops his voice, quieter now. “Seeing you… Gansey.”
Adam says his name so certainly, like Gansey is a complete sentence. Despite nothing having been said about it, no words having passed between the two of them, his fears melt away as Adam touches him gently. He thinks he might get it now. Adam’s not always obvious with his affection; in fact, usually Gansey can’t parse out what he’s feeling at all. But this time he can see that it’s him, all of him, that Adam cares about. The strap-on has always been just another tool.
Gansey wriggles closer and muffles his loud moans into Adam’s t-shirt. Ignoring the fact that he’s just been fucked so hard he should be a boneless mound, Adam gets Gansey off within minutes, shuddering, thank-yous spilling off his tongue.
They’re quiet for a bit. Gansey rather suspects that Adam is processing, or at least trying to ignore the ache between his legs. “Was it good?” he says, doubt starting to creep in. He would hate to have made Adam feel pressured, feel like less than the man he is, self-determined and brilliant. It feels so easy to mess up with Adam.
Adam nods, still thinking. “It was nice,” he says eventually. “Thanks.”
Gansey presses. “You felt…?”
Adam hums and tips his head onto Gansey’s shoulder. Gansey’s hand instantly goes up to stroke his hair away from his face, a rare privilege. “Just – huge,” he says. “It was all so big.” Gansey knows what he means; not just the size, but the sensation of it, the magnitude of the act. Adam letting Gansey in. An honor.
Adam pokes Gansey’s side. “If you wanna take it you’re going to have to train yourself.”
Gansey flinches. “I’ll buy a smaller one, thank you.” His brain catches up with him. “You want to fuck me?”
“Yeah,” Adam says, obvious. In a rare moment of brazen honesty, he continues, “I like making you feel good. Surprising you with it.”
That’s all Gansey needs. He settles down, Adam’s head resting just above his heart. He doesn’t say that Adam always surprises him, with his quiet care and startling passion. They don’t speak like that, but maybe one day they will. “Alright. Maybe next time.”