Adam’s up and at ‘em in three days flat. Lawrence might’ve passed out in a Home Depot parking lot a few minutes after his grand escape, but his trail of blood Hansel and Greteled the rescue unit right to Adam’s door. That technically counts as “bringing back help.”
He was mobile long before he got cleared to leave, and with no visitors to entertain him, he passed the time with the Gordon family holed up in the room next door. It started with just wanting to see Lawrence alive and breathing for his own sanity, but he couldn’t escape without a conversation with Alison and Diana at his bedside.
It turns out they rule. Shaken up as everybody is, Alison still keeps it light, and not in the stiff-lipped “let’s stay apolitical” way you talk to second cousins at Christmas service. She’s got jokes. She doesn’t shy away from healthy ribbing. She indulges in the occasional swear word, even in front of her kid.
Once Diana cracks out of her shell, she can hold her own, too, especially if the subject is life cycles of apex predators or the gum she found under a cafeteria table. Apparently he’s quickly risen in ranks to be her favorite person in the world, based solely on the fact that he knows several Pokemon and can throw popcorn right in her mouth.
Adam is immensely charmed by them both.
By the second day, Alison feels comfortable dropping Diana off at Adam’s hospital room so she can take care of executor stuff, or have a coffee made at an actual cafe instead of the sludge that comes from the vending machines. The kid’s eight, so she basically entertains herself, but Alison still gushes with appreciation for the two hours of solitude earned from him watching Diana play Gameboy.
“If you ever think about nannying, let me know,” Alison tells him after a week.
It’s probably the last day they’ll see each other; Lawrence is perfectly coherent and healed enough to tend his bandages on his own, so there’s no reason to stay. Adam had been released days ago, he just keeps coming to visit. What the fuck else does he have going on right now?
Adam laughs, but she holds her ground. “I’m serious! I work, Larry works, and there’s another two months of summer before school starts again.”
“She’s not in daycare?” Adam asks.
“Sure, but I was unimpressed enough with it before everything. There’s no way I’m sending her back in with 15 other kids.” Alison shakes her head. “The teens in charge wouldn’t notice if half of them wandered off the playground.”
“Well, you have your work cut out for you. A singular, well-behaved, potty-trained child who thinks independent reading time is a reward? That’s a nanny’s worst nightmare,” Adam says.
“She’s picky about babysitters,” she insists.
“I am out of a job right now…” Adam hedges. Weirdly enough, that cop who got murdered never forwarded him his last paycheck. Not like he can pick up any other odd jobs while his camera’s in evidence, anyway. He won’t even be able to lift his right arm for weeks.
“What were you making before?”
“200 a day,” Adam answers honestly, though he still feels like he’s pulling off a scam.
“You just met me!”
“If you were some kind of freak, that maniac wouldn’t have had to pick ‘being a PI’ as your number one moral failing,” Alison reasons. She’s really thought about this. “It’s actually a pretty useful litmus test.”
“I don’t even have any experience.”
“You’re a tough negotiator. $200 and one page from Larry’s prescription pad,” Alison says.
“I’ll do it for $150,” Adam agrees through a laugh. “Do you offer insurance?”
“Stitches are on the house, splints have a $30 copay,” she ticks off.
“I guess I’m hired, then.”
Alison has a beautiful smile. “I’ll get you the address. Oh, wait.”
The imposter syndrome ebbs away within the first two weeks as Adam finds himself a missing piece in the Gordon household.
Lawrence is back to the office, albeit on paperwork duty, as soon as he can maneuver his crutches, which means there’s time for breakfast together on Adam’s way in at 9. Alison is gone before he arrives but home around 5 to catch up on the day before he leaves. These little points of overlap in the transitions between their days make the Gordons feel like Adam’s roommates more than his bosses. Adam’s hot, rich roommates.
When there’s downtime, and there’s a lot of downtime, he takes care of other chores. The old brownstone is timeless, which can be a euphemism for “dusty” if you don’t sweep enough. Alison leaves them extra money for food every morning, in case they want to order out, but he takes Diana grocery shopping instead and spends the late afternoons preparing dinner.
“You’re a better housewife than I ever was,” Alison teases him one day when she comes home to a clean house and the smell of chicken parm in the oven.
“Diana did most of it,” he lies, scooping her up on his good side to be head-height with her mom and him.
“I put on the cheese!” she agrees. “And I held the calendar for the noodles!”
“She held the calendar for the noodles,” Adam says seriously, then puts her down. “Go set the table, Di.”
“One for Daddy, too,” Alison calls to her as Diana skitters off to be helpful. To Adam, she says, “He’s getting home early tonight. They’ve finally moved his hours back to normal.”
“Oh, that’s good,” says Adam, a little disappointed that means he’ll be seeing less of him.
He’d started really looking forward to their morning chats. Lawrence doesn’t make him laugh as much as Alison does, but he speaks to Adam like no one else ever has. He’s earnest to a fault, and keeps eye contact and nods emphatically when Adam talks about trivial shit. He’s got this addiction to heart-to-hearts and doesn’t let him get away with self-effacing jokes when Adam ought to be opening up, no bullshit. Plus, he makes a mean omelette.
“Four places, Diana,” Lawrence announces as he pulls the door closed behind him. He greets Alison with a hand on her waist and a kiss to her temple, then, bizarrely, does the same to Adam. “You don’t have plans, do you?”
“Uh, no. I can stay, if you don’t mind.”
“We always want you to stay,” he says. Again, a little too earnestly.
Alison pours them merlot with dinner, and serves Diana’s juice in a wine glass from the same set.
Diana recounts the day’s trip to the park in vivid, sometimes embellished detail. It’s always funny to hear what little things she fixates on. Once, he’d carried her upside down and pretended to be confused why her feet were where her head was, and she’d spent the next several days explaining the orientation of different objects to him, convinced he’d keep going through life as some kind of idiot if she didn’t intervene.
“And then I went on the slide, and then I did the whole monkey bars all by myself—” Not true, Adam conveys with his eyebrows, which makes Lawrence and Alison smile even more, “—And then we saw Adam’s boy friend.”
“Yeah, we saw my friend Danny while he was walking his dog,” Adam agrees, correcting the language before there’s a misunderstanding.
“He gave you a hug and he asked if you… um,” Diana struggles to remember the quote.
“This was a guy I knew in high school. He thought Diana was mine,” Adam explains, embarrassed. The exact wording was “You a teen dad now?” but Adam does not feel that detail adds to his integrity.
“Do you remember what kind of dog he was?” Lawrence throws him a lifeline.
“She was a dalmatian and she was a girl! Her name was Missy.” Diana gets back into her groove. Alison tops off Adam’s wine glass with a wink.
“Join us for a drink in the study,” Lawrence encourages when Alison and Diana start clearing the table, laying a broad hand on his back.
“Oh, thanks, but I shouldn’t. I think I had a little too much at dinner, anyway,” Adam confesses. He’s pleasantly lightheaded and warm in the cheeks. “I still have to drive home, you know.”
“No, you don’t,” Alison pipes up from the kitchen. “The guest room is always open.”
“Why don’t you let me finish up here, sweetheart? It’s my turn to put Diana down anyway,” Lawrence suggests, passing her a dish towel. She gives him a peck and leads Adam to the den, where they keep their bar well-stocked.
“What can I make you, Adam?” she prompts.
“Uh... Jack and Coke?”
Alison looks around in the minifridge, then straightens up and plucks a wide, orate bottle of whiskey from among the other spirits. “We don’t have any Coke, but this is real smooth,” she promises as she pours it out into three glasses. She presses one into his hand so their fingers brush. That’s… not really what he wanted, but he sips it because she’s watching him. It’s warm all the way down his throat.
“Was that true, about you having a boyfriend?” she asks as they sit in the expensive leather armchairs. The question should make him tense, but there’s nothing but open curiosity on her face.
“No, no. I really wouldn’t even describe us as friends, he was just a guy I used to know,” he explains again. He adds, “I’m not seeing anyone right now,” for some reason.
Alison sips her glass of whiskey and drags a finger along the rim. “You know, I had a bit of a phase in undergrad,” she confides in him, and the phrasing makes him smile. “She was my RA, and she had this gorgeous dark hair she always wore in plaits. Every time I bumped into her in the community showers, I swear I thought about it for the next month.” After getting to know her, that doesn’t surprise him at all.
“She was my height, and she kissed like...” She puts her hand over her mouth, eyes smiling like she’s not so much shy as pretending to be shy. “It’s so different with a woman. I’m sure you know.”
Adam thinks it’s sweet when married women talk about their own sexuality like it’s such a taboo, even detached from sex. A little sad, too.
“I’m still having a bit of a phase,” Adam jokes. He’s pretty sure she knows, anyway. “I don’t know what the shelf life is supposed to be, but it seems like it’s sticking around.”
“Larry actually dated a man before me,” Alison continues, and that does surprise him. “I don’t think he’s ever told anyone else. He didn’t tell me until after our second anniversary.”
Adam has another sip, brow furrowed. That’s more than a little sad.
“He wouldn’t mind me saying so,” she adds, off his worried expression. “I don’t have a problem with it. I just can’t imagine enjoying men’s bodies, but not going down on your wife for a year and a half.”
Adam chokes on his drink.
“A year and a half!” she reiterates, getting up and climbing onto the loveseat beside Adam. “Two tax seasons have gone by since I got my pussy eaten.”
“Oh my god,” Adam laughs with her. It’s not an inappropriate conversation to have with a friend, but Alison has never felt more like his boss before. That’s probably his cue to jump to Lawrence’s defense, but he can’t really come up with one.
“You eat pussy,” she tells him, a question phrased like a statement. Adam nods helplessly. “Of course you do! You’re an evolved man. There’s no excuse not to.”
His face must be hot enough to glow in the dark, but the alcohol cuts through the embarrassment and he just keeps laughing.
He notices, then, her hand on his thigh. There’s not enough room to move out from under it unless he stands.
“Your husband is—” he starts to protest.
“He wouldn’t mind,” she repeats, and then she kisses him.
Her lips are as soft as they look, and she’s generous with her tongue immediately. Defying every instinct, he turns his face to separate them, and she takes the invitation to suck on his pulse point instead.
“You kiss like a woman,” she breathes against his neck, kissing up to his ear. “Lay back.”
Adam tries to get himself to focus, but his body is going without protest. She’s got him flat on his back, lipgloss cooling on his throat. She shimmies off her panties under her skirt, then straddles his chest. Without his permission, Adam’s hands crawl up to the bare skin of her thighs under her skirt.
“He’s,” Alison drapes the hem of her skirt over his face, and he has to bat it off. Fuck, he can smell her. “Alison, I can’t. Lawrence is my friend. I can’t.”
“But do you want to?” she asks.
“Yes,” Adam breathes, fingers wandering.
“Hi,” says Alison, looking up.
“Hi,” says Lawrence. Adam feels him lean over, and watches them kiss from below. “I thought you’d be further along.”
“We were having a good conversation.”
Lawrence picks up the third glass of whiskey and makes himself comfortable in the armchair Alison sat in before. “Well, don’t stop on my account.”
“I told you he wouldn’t mind,” Alison murmurs, and then her skirt’s back over his nose.
The last of his reservations out the window, Adam presses a searing open-mouthed kiss there, groaning at how wet she is already. He tongues her open in long, patient strokes that make her pant. When he needs to breathe, he catches her clit to drag it between his lips and the point of his tongue.
“That’s good,” she whispers. “That’s fucking good.”
He frees one hand to first squeeze her thigh, then circle a finger outside her pussy while he sucks at her clit. Before he can do anything with it, Alison grabs his wrist and pins it to the armrest above his head. He feels his whole body throb.
“I want you to do it with just your mouth,” she urges him, moaning when his nose grinds against her clit as he fucks his tongue inside her.
Alison lifts her skirt out of the way, and Adam hears breath catch from across the room. He follows the sound with just his eyes.
“He’s good at following instructions,” Lawrence comments, voice even despite palming himself through his pants.
“You could stand to take notes. Oh, Adam, just like that,” Alison pitches forward, both arms braced against the armrest for leverage as she grinds down, intertwining fingers with Adam’s restrained hand.
There’s weight all around him, from her knees on either side of his head and her pelvis rocking against his chin, and he loses himself in her taste and smell and brilliant sounds.
Adam jerks when a hand brushes over the tent in his jeans. “It’s just me,” says Lawrence, and Adam could cry when he undoes his fly to wrap a hand around his aching cock. He can’t see him, can’t see much of anything, but that makes the sensation of warm fingers lifting his shirt out of the way all the more chill-inducing. He can only track Lawrence’s location through touch.
“He really loves this. Nobody’s even touched him and he’s this wet,” Lawrence observes, smearing precum down with a squeezing pump.
“Yes, oh, like that,” Alison repeats, and she abandons his hand to hold his head in place instead, by his forehead first and then a fist in his hair. “Yes, yes!”
Lightheaded with breathlessness, he abandons technique and just holds his tongue stiff as she rides his face to the end. Alison shudders above him, and his hands find her hips again to keep her from toppling forward.
The second there’s room, he turns his head and gasps for air, impossibly turned on. She sits back on his chest, gorgeous face flushed pink and glowing. Lawrence kisses the side of it and she laughs contentedly before standing on unsteady legs and batting him toward Adam.
“You look like a wreck.” Lawrence admires his dark eyes, wild hair, and face stained wet from the nose down. He cups the side of his face as he watches him, as if to keep him still, then leans down for an open-mouthed kiss. He and Alison kiss the exact same way, do the exact same thing with their tongues, except Lawrence uses teeth.
Adam lets him lick into his mouth, sharing the heady taste of sex. He obliges when Lawrence turns his head to lick down the side of his face to his neck, up to his ear. This is the kind of thing that really gets him: sloppy, gross stuff that would make him cringe if he wasn’t the one experiencing it. He touches the fingers of one hand to the path of spit on his cheek, and uses the other to grip himself.
Lawrence wipes his thumb through the mess on the other side of his face and Adam parts his lips mindlessly. He watches Lawrence watch him as he sucks his thumb clean, whining when Lawrence pushes his tongue down and rocks his hand in deeper. His thumb comes back shiny-wet, and Lawrence smears it back over Adam’s swollen mouth, hypnotized.
“Let me blow you,” Adam breathes.
“Such a giver. Allie?” Lawrence looks over for permission. It only just now occurs to Adam that they must have planned this whole evening out together.
“Say please,” says Alison.
“Please,” Adam croaks before she finishes the request.
“She meant me,” Lawrence says with a little laugh, petting his hair back from his forehead. “He must be really desperate for it.”
Adam’s in too deep for the embarrassment to go anywhere but straight to his dick. “I’m sorry,” he says, not because he is, but because he thinks it’ll be hot.
“Show me how sorry you are. Get on your knees.” It is hot.
Adam gets his legs under him, just barely, and kicks off his jeans before he kneels on the floor between Lawrence’s knees. Lawrence perches at the edge of the couch, pants shifted down his hips.
“Take his shirt off, Larry,” Alison orders from the armchair. When Adam turns to look at her, he has to do a double take. She’s taken off her top and skirt, and she has a leg propped up on the armchair playing with herself while she watches them.
Lawrence obliges, careful of Adam’s injured shoulder. He doesn’t have to wear the bandages anymore, but he still has another week before the stitches get removed.
Lawrence runs a hand down his smooth chest and leans nearly in half to kiss him again, softer. “Okay?” he murmurs.
“I feel like I’m dreaming.” Adam grins. He gives the impressive tent in Lawrence’s briefs a squeeze, then lowers the waistband.
“What the fuck. Oh, what the fuck,” Adam moans. He has to take his hands off and sit on his feet to fully appreciate it.
“I know,” Alison chimes in from behind him.
“What the fuck do you even need a dick like this for? You’re a monster. Jesus Christ, what’s the matter with you?” He can barely get his fingers all the way around it. Now that Adam’s found his voice, he can’t stop talking.
“Can you phrase your compliments a little more positively?” Lawrence laughs, embarrassed.
“I’m positive this is gonna puncture a lung.”
“You should’ve negotiated for better medical,” says Alison.
“You swindled me,” Adam maintains, ghosting breath on the head of Lawrence’s stupid big cock. He gathers spit in his mouth to drool over the tip through a wet kiss, and smears it down as he pumps him to full hardness. Lawrence lays his hand heavy at the base of his skull.
“Open,” he says.
Adam’s head spins as he obeys, sticking out his tongue for good measure, and Lawrence feeds it to him slowly. He doesn’t push his head down, but the hand scruffing him is a constant, branding reminder that he could. Adam’s body starts to recoil on instinct when the head knocks the back of his throat, and Lawrence stops there to let him set the pace.
He hollows his cheeks as he retreats to suck at the tip, then bobs back down as far as he can comfortably go. It’s not far. By no means is it his best work, but there’s something appealing about the messiness. Opening his mouth this wide summons continuous rivulets of drool no matter how often he swallows, and gagging when every fourth stroke batters the back of his throat has made his eyes prick with tears.
“Mind your teeth,” Lawrence says, even though Adam knows for a fact he hasn’t slipped up. All the attention that isn’t going towards floating out of his body is dedicated to keeping his teeth out of the equation.
Adam looks up in question, while he’s halfway down and shaking his head trying to work it deeper, and Lawrence answers by slipping two fingers into his mouth beside his cock. They hook into Adam’s cheek and pull his mouth into an obscene shape. Lawrence rocks his hips forward, fucking his mouth for the first time.
“He can do better than that,” Alison chides, voice suddenly right behind him. There’s a new hand on the back of his head, threading into his hair, and then she’s pushing him forward.
Adam fights back involuntarily, choking, but Alison doesn’t let him back off until his throat is open and full. Lashes fluttering, Adam feels his cheeks wet with tears as he tries not to retch. He swears he could cum from just this, the shame and the discomfort and the breathlessness.
“There you go,” Alison says when his nose brushes Lawrence’s pubic bone. Adam squeezes his eyes shut. If he had the voice for it, he’d have sobbed in relief.
She takes his hand and guides it up to touch his own throat. “Feel that?” she whispers. Her hand presses his down over his distended throat, and Lawrence groans like he can feel the pressure. He pulls back out almost all the way before thrusting in again and again, and Adam really does sob at the feeling of his cock moving through him from the outside.
He reaches back to swat weakly at Alison and she finally drags him off to let him breathe. He can only imagine what he must look like, coughing and gasping for air, face wet now with tear tracks and drool.
“Please,” Adam whimpers.
“It’s not your turn yet,” Alison says sympathetically, barely brushing her knuckles over his tented underwear.
Lawrence cradles his cheek while he catches his breath, eyes kind. As if he hadn’t just throatfucked him to the brink of unconsciousness. “You look so good like this.”
Adam takes him in hand again, pumping and twisting his wrist as he sucks at just the head.
“That’s it,” Lawrence praises. “I didn’t even have to ask.”
“Adam.” Alison peels his head away to get his attention, amused at how he resists at first in an effort to keep the cock in his mouth. “Can you go twice?”
“Uh. Uh-huh.” Adam doesn’t think he’s capable of saying no to anything at this point.
It must have been the right answer, because she winds an arm around his front and starts jerking him off. He makes a sound between a moan and a yell; the direct contact is so sudden and missed it’s almost painful.
“Don’t get distracted,” Lawrence reminds him, stroking himself to the sight of his wife and Adam on the floor in front of him. Adam springs forward to take over again, but Lawrence holds him back with a hand on top of his head. Adam licks his lips, desperate and confused. Face up, palms flat on his knees, he meets Lawrence’s searing eye contact and slowly opens his mouth again. Shows Lawrence his tongue.
He barely remembers to close his eyes before his face is being painted with cum, across his cheeks and up the bridge of his nose. His whole body tenses and his eyes screw shut as Alison brings him over the edge, too.
When Adam blinks his eyes open again, Lawrence is looking at him in abject wonder. He makes a show of licking his lips and swallowing what landed in his mouth.
Alison kisses him sweetly on his clean cheek. “How do you feel?”
“You live like this?” he responds hoarsely, gesturing to Lawrence’s softening (still ridiculous) cock.
Alison laughs and ruffles his hair before joining Lawrence up on the couch. She slots right against his side like a puzzle piece. Too dazed to get up off the floor, Adam leans back on his hands and admires them.
“Why do you think we’re still together?” Alison pats Lawrence on the thigh and looks at him with unrestrained love.
“Allie,” Lawrence protests, embarrassed again.
“It’s not the only reason,” she assures him. “Just most of it.”
Adam shakes his head. “Your husband’s got the eighth world wonder in his shorts and you’re complaining he never goes down on you.”
“What? I go down on you,” Lawrence says, offended. “Did you tell him I don’t go down on you?”
“I was setting a scene,” Alison defends. “Not all of us have the privilege of wandering off to another wing of the house and waiting for the action to happen.”
“So you guys do this a lot?” Adam asks.
Alison snuggles into Lawrence’s side and looks up at him.
He answers, “Not like this. We opened up our marriage a couple years ago, when Allie started having to travel for work, but it’s usually one on one. And never with people we already know.”
“So I guess I’m special, then?” Adam jokes.
“Yes,” says Lawrence without a hint of humor. Adam has no idea what to do with that.
“You know, if you just wanted to fuck me, you could’ve asked back in the hospital. I would’ve said yes. You didn’t have to give me a job.”
“Well, we wanted you to cook us dinner for a month first,” Lawrence says, grinning.
“Oh, is that part of it?” Adam deadpans.
“Foreplay is important.”
“Am I getting fired now that I put out?” It would be worth it, but he actually does need this job.
“That would be an HR violation. Plus, you haven’t even actually put out yet.” Alison reaches out a hand to help him up. “Why don’t you go to the guest bathroom and get cleaned up?”
“Oh, yeah.” There are so many fluids drying on his face at this point he almost forgot about it.
“When you get back, I thought Larry could fuck you, and you could fuck me.”
Adam’s head spins playing a mental game of Tetris to see how that would fit together. “That sounds good,” is all he can think to say.
“Take your time,” says Lawrence. “I need to eat a granola bar or something.”