Chapter Text
The guards walking Chris to the trailer seemed nervous as shit. They should be—he’d already plotted six different ways he could take them down and escape, should he want to. But they were innocent keepers of the peace, just like him. Besides, escape was pointless when you had nowhere else to go—no one who’d give enough of a shit to help you hole up somewhere.
Which was why this afternoon’s visit was a strange surprise.
C.O. Bentley, the scrawniest of the guards, liked to chit-chat when he was nervous. “A conjugal visit, a week before your sentencing? Lucky bastard. You should savor it—you won’t get these kinds of perks when they transfer you to federal custody.”
Chris started him down, and was pretty sure Bentley pissed himself a little, based on the fear in his eyes. But he was a nice enough guy—the comment had been innocent, if poorly executed. Chris looked away.
This time C.O. Briggs, a braver but gossipy guard, chimed in. “You’re what, four, five hours from home? Must be a pretty special lady to make the trip up here. Who is she?”
Chris shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Briggs laughed. “Got so many on the hook, you can’t even make a guess? Good for you man.”
They approached the trailer, and Chris felt Bentley fumble with his cuffs behind his back while Briggs unlocked the door.
“You’ve got 90 minutes.” she said. “If I were you, I’d make them count.”
Rubbing his wrists from the tights cuffs, Chris entered the trailer, and heard the door close and lock behind him.
The one-room trailer looked like a business hotel—spartan, but still a huge step-up in comfort from the cell he’d spent the last six weeks in. It held a table and chairs, couch, bed, and nightstand. Seated in the chair, his hands folded on the table, was Vigilante.
He stood when Chris entered the room, but then seemed unsure what to do with himself. He hovered there for a moment before sitting back down. “Hey,” he managed.
Chris froze in place. “Hey.” He paused, unsure how to proceed. “Are you… my conjugal visit?”
Vigilante crossed his arms. He was dressed entirely in plain clothes—a blue sweater, khakis and sneakers—except for his mask. Chris saw the sleeve of his right arm roll up, revealing a black wrist brace. “Keep it in your pants, Peacemaker. I just needed a way to get to you without being watched.” He gestured at the chair across from him.
Chris sat down, cautiously. He wasn’t sure what approach to take, or where they stood. He hadn’t spoken to Vigilante since the night he stormed out, about two months ago. After that, Chris’s prints were found at the crime scene of the mobsters they’d taken out. He was still awaiting sentencing, but between the mob-bought district attorney and his overworked public defender, Chris had been assured he’d be away for a while.
He’d never reached out to Vigilante, to apologize or otherwise. But Chris had been surprised Vigilante hadn’t made an effort, either—usually, he called Chris ten times for every one occasion Chris called him first. He’d expected his friend to sweep it under the rug, take it in stride like the other shit life (and Chris) flung at him. The radio silence hurt like a motherfucker. But better for Vigilante to be mad than feel guilty—after all, Chris was going away for a crime they both committed. Though Chris had only his own carelessness to blame for getting caught. Vigilante would be better off moving on, forgetting Peacemaker and finding a new crime-fighting partner who wasn’t such a heartless douche. But if all that was true, why did Chris feel Christmas-morning level giddy that his friend was here to see him?
Chris reached across the table and took hold of the wrist brace, gently. “This should be healed by now.”
Vigilante pulled away, holding the injured wrist to his chest. “The doctor said I re-fractured it, when I…” he trailed off. Punched me in the face? Chris was tempted to fill in. But he’d deserved it, and worse. No point in salting Vigilante’s wound.
Vigilante shook his head. “That’s not the point.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a blood glucose meter that diabetics used. “I came to give you this.”
Chris frowned. “I don’t have diabetes. I mean, the food here is shit, all empty carbs and over-processed garbage, but it’s low on sugar, that’s for sure.”
Vigilante shook his head. “It’s a subdermal quick-release adrenal storage device. This thingy will insert it under your skin—it’s like a small plastic thing with a button on it. Over time it’ll collect excess adrenaline and testosterone in your blood stream. Then when you need to use it, like you’re in a fight or something, you can sort of press the button through your skin, and it’ll give you a rush of adrenaline. You can go, like, beast mode.”
Chris took the machine and studied it. It was fully disguised as a blood glucose monitor—which was probably how Vigilante had gotten it in. He touched the needle on the end, drawing a bit of blood from his finger.
“Careful!” cautioned Vigilante. “You’ll want to be pretty intentional about where to insert it. Somewhere out of the way, but where you can access it to press the button. I’d suggest your bicep, or by the ribs under your arm.”
Chris nodded, rolled up his sleeve and laid his left arm on the table. “OK, stick it in me.”
Vigilante pulled out a piece of paper that appeared to have handwritten instructions on it. He took Chris’s arm, and lined up the needle against the inside of his bicep. As he did, Chris examined the device. He recognized the handiwork, the thought process behind the device’s operation and design. “My dad made this?”
Vigilante nodded. “I stopped by his place, to ask if he had anything that could keep you safe in prison. There’s a lot of local news coverage of your case—it looks like the D.A. is angling to get you sent to Belle Reve, a superhero joint. I know you can take care of yourself, but I figured you could use some extra protection that’ll make it past security sensors.” With that, he pressed the needle into Chris’s skin—it was fairly thick and hurt like a bitch. He pressed a button on the device, which beeped three times before Chris felt another stab as the device was inserted under his skin.
Fuck. Nobody had warned Chris about Belle Reve, certainly not his piece-of-shit lawyer. He actually hadn’t been too worried about prison—he could handle any bastards from gen pop. Supers might be another story.
Chris touched the slight bump under his skin, feeling the hard metal device about an inch long and a few millimeters wide. Thank god his dad had come through. Or had he? “What, dad just gave this to you, out of the kindness of his heart?”
Vigilante scratched the back of his neck and didn’t meet Chris’s gaze. “He cares about you, in his way. He didn’t trust me at first, but when I explained I was your partner, he showed me he had been working on this for you and trying to find the time to come up and deliver it.”
Chris folded his arms and leaned back in the chair. “Bullshit. Tell me the truth.” Vigilante looked at him. “Please.”
Vigilante’s shoulders slumped. “Fine. He told me to go fuck myself, that you’d gotten what to deserve and he wouldn’t be giving you handouts anymore. He said all his tech was spoken for. I offered to pay him for it. It wiped out my savings.”
Well, he had asked for the truth. Chris tried to ignore the wrenching feeling in his chest. How many times did Dad have to let him down until it would stop stinging? And knowing him, he wouldn’t have offered Vigilante a discount. “Thanks man. I’ll pay you back.”
Vigilante met his gaze. “With what money?” he said evenly. There was no meanness behind his words—just a statement of fact. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. It’s worth it to me, to know you’ve got a fighting chance.” He paused. “Peacemaker, I’m—”
“Don’t!” Chris stood suddenly, knocking the table off its feet for a moment. Vigilante looked surprised. “Don’t fucking apologize. I don’t need your simpering, or you saying ‘it should have been me,’ because we both know I’m exactly where I should be.”
Vigilante stared at him, silently, and shook his head. “That’s not true. If I’d been more thorough, scrubbed for every fingerprint—”
“Then it just would have been the next fight I went into drunk or high or unprepared that got me locked up. Stop fucking going to bat for me—you’re embarrassing yourself.”
Vigilante stood and pointed accusingly at Chris. “Fuck you, man! I do what I want. When I’m embarrassing myself, you’ll know it!”
Chris was getting a second chance and it was already going off the rails. Fuck! “That’s not what I meant. Just— don’t give a shit about me. I’m only dragging you down.”
Vigilante approached Chris, placing a tentative hand on his elbow. “You don’t drag me down. I’m a way better fighter because of you.”
Chris didn’t know what to want. He wanted Vigilante to move on—lord knows, with the sentencing looking at 40 to life, he couldn’t be around for his friend. But he also wanted amends, for things to be solid between them again. He wanted things to be easy. He wanted his Mom. He wanted to go home.
“I said some fucked up shit to you, the last time we were together.” I also jerked you off and got the best blowjob of my life from you and wanted more and more and didn’t know how to feel about it and still don’t. There was more than he could say clogging up the back of Chris’s throat. He hoped Vigilante heard some of it in his voice.
Vigilante nodded and released his elbow. “You did.” He walked further away—Chris saw some of his own training in the carefulness of Vigilante’s step, the way he kept a back to the wall and his eyes trained on Chris. He was ready to defend, or attack. He paused, waiting for Chris to… what? Apologize? Double down? Finally, he put him on the spot. “And what do you think about it now?” asked Vigilante.
Chris was about to spend the prime of his life with a cadre of motherfuckers who would delight in eating his arms for hors d'oeuvres. Now was not the time to be vulnerable, to dredge up his entrails and leave his bloody feelings gushing on the trailer floor. It was a time to close down, to fortify. But Vigilante would have to live with this as probably their last time meeting—Chris could give him an easy truth, at least.
“I don’t actually care if you’re gay. I think it’s fine.”
Vigilante nodded, still on guard, but relaxed very slightly. “Bi.”
“Seriously? You’re leaving already?”
“No, jackass. I’m bisexual, not gay. But I get your point. Thanks.”
They were silent for a moment. Vigilante sat on the couch, and absently picked at a thread in the upholstery. Nonchalantly, he continued. “Y’know, Midnighter’s gay. Apollo. Green Lantern.”
Chris nodded. He wasn’t sure where this was going. “Aquaman fucks fish.”
Vigilante looked up. “That’s not…the point. Or true. I’m just saying, there’s like, a precedent, for pretty macho super guys who can also be queer. It doesn’t have to like, define you or anything.”
Chris shrugged. “Sure, it’s a new era. You’re in good company, man. And you’ve got me as an ally.” Chris gave him a thumbs up, which felt awkward, so he transitioned it to finger guns, which wasn’t much better.
“Bullshit!” Vigilante put his palm to his head, exasperated. “Look, I’m trying to let you come to it in your own way, but if you can’t even apologize for being a bigoted ass to me, can you at least acknowledge that it probably has less to do with me than your own pent up gay panic?”
Chris stepped back a few paces, against the wall. He was reminded of when he played Battleship with his brother, and the mounting anxiety that came when Keith got the first hit. “Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Vig. I know what I’m about. Peacemaker is an all-American, woman-loving, soldier of the peace. I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea…”
Vigilante stood, and took a step toward Chris, still keeping some distance. “I’m not talking about Peacemaker, I’m talking about Christopher Smith. And I didn’t say you don’t love women too. But don’t you think…” B-4. Hit.
“I don’t think anything!” Chris snapped. “I’m not a fucking f-… gay person.” Chris caught himself. Force of habit. He wasn’t a bigot, really, he reminded himself. It’s just that your dad tells you to ‘quit acting like a fucking faggot’ enough times, the word starts to sink in.
Chris saw Vigilante flinch at the almost-slur, but he let it pass. Instead, he took another step closer, cautiously. “If it’s no big deal for me to be queer, why would it be for you?” B-5. Hit.
“Because I’m fucking not! Smith men aren’t queer. I wasn’t raised that way.” Vigilante cocked his smug head to the side. Christ, did he have to be doing this now? Couldn’t he leave well enough alone? “Fucking lay off. I’m sorry if you caught feelings or something, and I’ll be cool about it, but you’ve gotta leave me the fuck alone, alright? We’re not like that, you and I. There’s a professional… hero and sidekick relationship. I don’t know where you get off being all up in my nuts about my so-called homo-ness when I don’t even know what the fuck you look like!”
Without hesitation, Vigilante took off his mask.
B-6. Hit.
Huh. Chris hadn’t seen that coming. He was… handsome. Young looking, for 30. And kinda familiar.
“Oh. Are you… Gut Chase’s little brother? Andy?”
Vigilante looked embarrassed. Maybe he was regretting this? “Adrian. And, yeah.” He reached in his back pocket, and took out a pair of aviator glasses, which he put on. He seemed so… human. Fragile—though Chris knew better than that, from experience.
“T.B.H., I’ve been kinda nervous about you knowing who I am. Not just because of the whole secret-identity superhero thing, but… I wasn’t always sure who you were. Like, are you a heroic protector of the innocent, or the guy who got everyone to call me ‘Thimble’ in phys ed?”
Shit, Chris had forgotten that. That was hilarious. “To be fair, that’s not true anymore. You’re packing serious hardware now. Mad respect for that.”
Vigilante—no, Adrian—smiled and shook his head. God, how did a stone-cold killer have a smile that was so goddamn cherubic? He continued, “And I feel like I see him sometimes, that guy you were, the high school bully? Like when you called me a fag. And it pissed me off because I thought you were done being him.”
Adrian seemed to build up confidence as he spoke and was meeting Chris’s gaze evenly. It had a powerful effect—Chris wanted to squirm out of his skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt or look away. At least when Dad yelled at him, it was a missile barrage. He could get angry, throw his guards up. But the way Adrian was talking—calm, gentle, so annoyingly understanding—he was peeling back all Chris’s armor and going straight for the jugular.
“But I’ve been thinking, it’s not like you’re one guy or the other. The high school bully guy will probably always be a part of you, but I’ve seen him getting smaller all the time. But maybe that’s making him meaner, too. And I know he doesn’t just come from you, but from your Dad, and this fucking town. And he can put me down for being queer—I’ve heard it before, I can take it. But could you please ask him to stop picking on my friend Chris? And let him be who he really is?” B-7. You sunk my battleship.
Chris turned away and faced the wall. Adrian had surely seen the tears starting to form in his eyes, but he was polite enough not to say anything.
So yeah, he was probably gay. Bisexual. Whatever. In retrospect, it was kind of obvious. So what? What would knowing that be any good for, except pissing off his dad? He had no interest in finding love in prison—those guys were all evil criminals, unlike him. And prison sex didn’t really have anything to do with being gay or straight, so he’d heard.
Trying to be casual, Chris wiped his eyes on his sleeve and gritted his teeth. He turned back to face Adrian, who was watching him with those vulnerable puppy dog eyes that made his chest hurt. “Why do you care if I’m gay or not? What difference does it make for me now?”
Now Adrian looked nervous. He bit his lip and looked at his feet. “That’s a, uh, good question. I guess the first reason, and the most important one, is that I care about you as a friend. And I really think you’ll be happier being honest with yourself, even if you don’t, like, do anything about it. I know I was.”
Chris nodded. He wasn’t sure if that was true for him or not. Smith men didn’t explore their emotions. They cultivated anger and determination and righteousness, and the rest of the unhelpful emotions they ignored until they went away. Except those feelings never quite left, did they? They just sat in the corner, going rancid and stinking up the place.
Something about Adrian’s phrasing struck him. “You said ‘the first reason.’ Are there more?”
Adrian tensed even more. He rubbed his arm above the brace. “Well, yeah, there’s one. But I’ve kinda fucked with your head a lot today, and I’m not so sure it’d be that helpful for me to go into.”
Chris shrugged. “I’m already about as fucked up as I’m going to get. Just let me have it.”
Adrian took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “OK. So, you don’t have to say anything back, because I totally dig the ‘Peacemaker and Vigilante, platonic crime fighters’ thing we’ve got going, and I don’t wanna screw it up. And I love you like a friend. But also… not like a friend. Like someone who I want to make out with and fall asleep next to and who would fuck me until I cried. That…kind of love, as well. Which, if you also like dudes, is like, maybe something you’d be into.”
Yes, Chris thought, before he could really think at all. Yes yes yes. But that was a pretty big conclusion to come to, when he’s only started accepting that he might like dudes a few minutes ago. He glanced at the clock on the wall—there was only about 55 minutes left in their visit. How could you decide if you were in gay love with your best friend in less than an hour?
Well, Briggs had suggested he make the time count.
Chris closed the distance between Adrian and himself. “I… really don’t know what to say. I’m not so great at knowing what I feel. But, can I try something?” He stepped into Adrian’s personal space, still leaving room for him to retreat if he wanted to.
Those ridiculous green eyes looked up at him, lips slightly parted. Adrian nodded.
Chris placed a hand on his jaw, feeling his friend’s rapid pulse under his thumb. Slowly, still giving time for him to pull away, Chris leaned in and kissed him.
Adrian was like a furnace—or maybe it was Chris? He felt a welcome heat across his face and lips, like sitting in front of the fireplace after coming in from the cold. He wrapped a hand around Adrian’s waist, pulling him closer. He deepened the kiss, enjoying the solidness of Adrian’s body and mouth. In fact, a little too solid.
Chris pulled away and looked at Adrian. “You can kiss me back, dude.”
Adrian looked flushed, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. “Oh, right. Sure. I just wasn’t sure, uh, what you were trying, exactly.”
Chris smiled. God, what a dork. He leaned in again, moving a hand to the back of Adrian’s head and carding his fingers through his hair. Adrian responded this time, slowly at first, then beginning to match Chris’s growing intensity. He wrapped his arms around Chris’s ribs and up his back, pulling them chest to chest.
Adrian was a better kisser than he might have guessed. He was responsive, following Chris’s lead, but took him by surprise now and again, biting his bottom lip and kissing down Chris’s neck. He’d never let women kiss his neck before—after a bad experience with a cannibal mutant in Dubai. But he found with Adrian that those bad memories paled in comparison to the wonderful and very boner-inducing reality in front of him.
That was an issue they’d have to deal with, one way or another. Chris wasn’t a big maker-outer except as a preamble for sex, so between that and the earlier “fucking until I cry” talk, Lil’ Peacemaker was responding very eagerly to all this excitement. And in his cheap, thin prison uniform, it wasn’t easy to hide.
Adrian wasn’t making it any easier. He slipped a leg between Chris’s and ground his thigh against Chris’s crotch. He placed one hand on the waistband of Chris’s pants, not pulling, but questioning, and pulled away from the kiss, still hovering inches from his mouth.
“Do you want me to do something about that?”
God yes. But if this was going to happen (please please please let it happen), Chris had to be fair about it. He couldn’t blindside Adrian just because he didn’t know how to feel about stuff.
He placed his hands on either side of Adrian’s delicate jaw (why did he keep thinking of him as fragile? He’d seen that same jaw get hit by a crowbar and recover with barely a bruise the next day). Adrian looked up at him fondly.
“There’s basically nothing on my mind right now except the thought of fucking you through that mattress hard enough they can hear you scream in Solitary Confinement.” Adrian smiled almost manically, his expression eager. “But—I gotta know if that’s what you really want. They’re saying I’ll be gone for 40 years. I don’t want to, I dunno, get you too excited about a future that just might not be possible.”
Adrian’s smile became softer, sadder. He looked down. “I’ve been trying not to think about that part.”
“Me too.” God, Chris was just starting to get a taste of what could be a pretty kick-ass relationship. Could he stand losing it before it really started?
Adrian looked at Chris intently then, his gaze determined. “Fuck it. Let’s go for it. Give me some memories to jerk off to while you’re away.”
Chris didn’t need to be told twice. And if it was too much for his feelings, he’d deal with that later. Lord knows, he would have the time on his hands.
He smiled, and pulled Adrian into a deeper, aggressive kiss. This time, it was a delicious mess of tongues and teeth, with some groping and moaning thrown in for good measure.
Chris placed a hand on the back of Adrian’s thighs. Getting the message, he jumped up and wrapped his legs around Chris’s waist, Chris holding him up like it was nothing. OK, not nothing—Chris could admit he had to adjust a bit, since Adrian weighed more than most of the chicks he’d tried that move on. But it seemed to do the trick in getting his partner hard as fuck.
He carried Adrian over to the small bed. He thought about throwing him down on it, all macho-like, but worried it might injure his wrist further, so he settled for leaning over slowly, lowering them both to the mattress and covering Adrian’s body with his own bulk. Adrian seemed to love that—he kept his legs tights around Chris’s waist and squirmed underneath him. God, Chris needed to see that exact same move with no clothes on.
He pulled away, looking down at a very excited Adrian. He touched his glasses. “How bad are you without these?”
Adrian removed them. “I’m nearsighted. I can see everything I need to right now without them. Just don’t make me drive a car.”
Chris set the glasses on the nightstand, and set to work pulling Adrian’s shirt off, careful not to wrench his injured wrist. He revealed smooth, pale and slightly freckled skin, a soft stomach and toned shoulders. Adrian seemed slightly jumpy now, nervous to be so exposed. Chris adjusted his position and sat straddling Adrian’s legs to keep him in place. He removed his own ugly prison shirt, and silently thanked God that he’d been able to use his rec time in the weight room.
He leaned over and kissed along Adrian’s collarbone, letting his hands run up and down his torso. Adrian responded immediately, tossing his head back and letting out a soft sigh. He ran his hands through the back of Chris’s hair, which for such a small gesture felt incredible. He imagined this is how Eagly felt when he got scratches on his feathery head.
Chris began kissing lower down Adrian’s torso, nervous but excited to return a favor he’d been given six weeks ago. When he began unbuttoning Adrian’s pants, the other man pulled his head back by the hair, which was… unexpectedly hot.
Adrian’s expression was slightly concerned. “Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to.”
Chris grinned rakishly. “You should know by now that I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”
“Have you ever… done this before?”
Chris shrugged. “No, but how hard can it be?”
As he unzipped Adrian’s trousers, he got his answer. Really fucking hard.
Huh. This could be a challenge, logistically. He felt a wave of sympathy for some of the women who had insisted he was too big for blowjobs in the past.
But Peacemaker doesn’t shrink from a challenge. He keeps going until the job is done.
He pulled Adrain’s pants down over his him and mouthed at him through his boxers. A chick had done that to him before, and while he had found it unnecessary at the time, Adrian seemed ready to burst on that sensation alone. His hands fisted in Chris’s hair, and his hips writhed so dangerously Chris had to hold him in place just to keep his mouth on the hard outline in the fabric. From the noises Adrian made, he seemed to enjoy being held down even more.
Chris sat up again and started removing Adrian’s pants. As he did so, Adrian ghosted his fingers up Chris’s chest, rubbing a thumb against his nipple. God, he wanted more of that. But he had a mission to complete.
He pulled Adrian’s boxers off and wrapped a hand around the base of his cock. There was no way he could fit it all in his mouth, until he got some practice at least. So a combination of jerking off and blow job seemed the most strategic way forward. Fun, too.
Adrian must have seen the confusion in his eyes, because he tapped him on the shoulder. Chris looked up, and Adrian gave him a broad smile and a thumbs up. “Hey, you got this, man! I believe in you!”
That makes one of us, Chris thought, but he steeled himself and dove in headfirst, taking the cock in his mouth and sinking down as far as he could manage (which didn’t seem far enough).
- This was pretty basic. Up and down, right? Except, what are you supposed to do with your teeth? They’re supposed to be out of the way, obviously, except that was kind of hard to do actually.
Oh, shit! He forgot about the jerking off part. Using both his mouth and hands took a lot of concentration. Ok, so like, up and down at the same time?
Adrian moaned. “Yeah, like that.”
OK, good. When Chris let his focus slip, he really enjoyed the sensation, the taste and the heavy feeling on his tongue. But he found he was distracted from his own pleasure by the need to concentrate on the task at hand. There were a lot of moving parts to manage.
Chris kept the same rhythm, unchanged for a while. Except Adrian went stiller and started making less noise. Was he supposed to change it up? How many different configurations were possible? He tried to recall what women had done to him—but he didn’t have a lot of memory of their technique, just how it felt to receive it. Damn it! More tongue, maybe?
He released Adrian’s cock from his mouth and licked along the length and tip. Adrian gave a little sigh of contentment but didn’t seem particularly impressed. Shit, why had no one told him blowjobs required a fucking Master’s degree to understand?
Well, it was called a “blow” job, so was he supposed to… blow air on it? That couldn’t be right. Except why else would they call it that? He decided to give it a try.
The raspberry sound that resulted made him wish the Earth had ended in 2012 like the Mexicans said it would.
Adrian keeled over on his side with laughter. Chris sat up and wiped his mouth. “Fuck you, it’s not that fucking funny,” he sniped. Except, objectively, it totally was.
Adrian sat up and patted his shoulder consolingly, trying to speak through peals of laughter. “I’m sorry, it’s ok. I…I shouldn’t laugh, it’s just…Ah!” He suppressed another fit of snickering. “Ugh, you actually shouldn’t do that, though. It can trap air in the shaft and give someone, like, a dick aneurism.”
Chris rolled his eyes, responding bitterly. “OK, well, I’m sorry I’m not a medical doctor. I didn’t know they were the only people who are good at blowjobs.”
Adrian looked at him with affectionate sympathy. “You’re good! You were doing a good job. It just takes practice.”
Chris glanced at the clock again. “Yeah, well unless I can master it in less that 40 minutes, don’t get your hopes up.”
Adrian shook his head. “Hey, let’s change gears. Something in your comfort zone. Have you done anal before?”
Oh, shit. That would be very new. “Not really. A chick snuck a finger in once without warning me, and I didn’t hate it?”
Adrian looked confused. “No, I meant you would top me. Unless… you wanted me to fuck you instead?”
An interesting idea. Chris hated for that truly impressive dick Adrian was packing to go unused. But he couldn’t get the idea of banging Adrian through the mattress out of his mind. He couldn’t go to prison without getting to hear what noises he would make.
Chris stood with determination and pulled down his prison-issue slacks. “Get on your knees.”
Adrian’s eyes went wide, and he complied instantly and eagerly.
Chris opened the nightstand drawer, and found it stocked with lube, condoms, and a bible. Yikes. He took out the lube and held the condom up for Adrian to see.
“Do you want me to use one? They tested me at jail intake, and said I was clean.” Which was a relief to know, because Chris could admit his dick had been in some questionable places.
Adrian shook his head. “No, I trust you. I was tested… a while ago. But I haven’t gotten around much since then—I’ve been pretty focused on my study of the Japanese tachi blade.”
How could he make badass weaponry sound so nerdy? It was pretty adorable. Chris grabbed his chin, pulling him in for a quick kiss before moving to kneel behind him. “Ready?” he asked, gripping his friend’s (surprisingly perky) ass. He must have taken Chris’s advice to add some glute work to his regimen.
Adrian wiggled his butt. The move wasn’t quite seductive, but it was pretty cute. “Only for about the last five years, dude. C’mon, don’t make me beg for it. Actually, you could totally make me beg…that would be really fun too.”
Another time, maybe. Chris didn’t have any intention of making Adrian wait. Still, he knew enough from past experience to do a little prep work. He coated a finger with lube, and slowly coaxed it inside Adrian.
Adrian whined. “I need more than that! I’m not one of those fragile bimbos you take home, don’t take anything fucking slow with me!”
Chris laughed, and quickly added another finger, making Adrian buck in surprise, before burying his head in the pillow and groaning in pleasure. “Dude, that’s kind of sexist,” said Chris.
Adrian turned his head slightly, speaking half-muffled with his face still buried in the pillow. “You’re right, my apologies to women. Ah!” Chris added a third finger. “Oh, Oh women! I’m sorry I wasn’t a better feminist ally!”
Now Chris could barely hold his laughter. “If you can’t shut up, I’ll have to gag you.”
Adrian looked back at him hungrily. “Promise?”
Chris worked three fingers inside, adding lube as he went, until he felt Adrian become more relaxed. He found the prostate entirely by accident, which was confirmed when Adrian threw his head back and pounded on the bed with his fist. “Yes, yes, X marks the spot, right there!”
With his free hand, Chris reached forward to grab a fistful of Adrian’s hair, pulling him backward to meet his eye. “Yeah, you like that? You want me to keep doing that, baby?”
Adrian whimpered at the pet name and looked positively trashed. But to Chris’s surprise, he shook his head. “No, I want you to turn on that little adrenaline device under your skin, get your cock out and fuck me in half.”
Oh fuck yeah. Chris removed his fingers and wiped them on the sheets (hoping for the sake of the next guy that the prison washed them between visits but knowing that that probably wasn’t the case). He flexed the bicep where Adrian had inserted the device and felt lightly for it under his skin. “So I just press it here? Is that safe, am I gonna, like, hurt you or something?”
“God, I hope so,” said Adrian, but he backpedaled when Chris looked at him with concern. “No, I don’t think so. The instructions said it takes a day to charge fully, and it’s only been in for a few minutes, so it probably won’t be at full power. Just a little boost to take you to full ramming speed.”
Chris arched an eyebrow. He was already feeling pretty fired up and ready to rock, so this ought to be interesting. He pressed harder along the length of the small device until he felt a distinctive click of the button under his skin. At first, nothing happened. Then he felt the muscles in his left arm tense, followed by his shoulder, down his chest and core, in his groin and down his thigh and calves. After a few seconds they relaxed again but felt abuzz with energy. He felt his heart pick up pace, and his mind start to light up with the runner’s high he’d get when he pushed his cardio just behind the limit. But instead of muscle exhaustion, he felt strong, coiled to spring into action. L’il Peacemaker was responding with enthusiasm as well. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be the case if he used this in a combat scenario.
Adrian had sat back on the bed and was watching him with fascination. “What does it feel like?” he asked.
Chris flexed his arms and chest, feeling their responsiveness and the satisfying stretch in the muscle fibers (and, OK, maybe showing off a little, but only because it clearly turned Adrian the fuck on). “Good. Fucking great, actually. I didn’t think I could get hornier, but I really feel like fucking you is becoming a physical, medical emergency right now.”
Adrian moved to turn over, but Chris placed a hand on his thigh, holding him in place on his back. “No, like this. I wanna see you.” Adrian nodded, and Chris helped him place a pillow under his ass to get a better angle. Adrian bit his lip, watching rapt as Chris lined up his cock at his entrance. “Are you ready?”
Adrian groaned, sounding half-exasperated and half-horny. “Fucking yes, Chris! How many times do I have to beg you to fuck me?” he whined.
Chris smiled, and pushed his cock in slowly. Adrian threw his head back and moaned. “A few more times couldn’t hurt.”
As Chris pushed all the way in (Christ, that felt incredible), Adrian fisted the sheets and babbled. “God, Chris, please fuck me. I need your cock, please! Ah!” Chris pulled out and slammed back in again, earning a cry from Adrian that he wanted to record and put on a vinyl record to play over and over again.
Chris began thrusting in and out, forcing himself to start slow, when every muscle in his body wanted to go full jackhammer. Adrian still seemed to be adjusting, hissing slightly with pain and pleasure every time Chris pushed in, but apparently that wasn’t a problem for him. He whined, “I need more, please. Don’t hold back, I can take it. I want to take it.”
And fuck, as if this didn’t already feel amazing, the dirty talk went right to Chris’s cock, and he felt ready to melt from pleasure. He lifted Adrian’s thighs up, and Adrian gladly wrapped them around his waist, giving him a better angle to hit the sweet spot that made Adrian’s eyes light up.
He leaned forward, pressing a kiss into Adrian’s sweaty collarbone. Adrian ran his hands over Chris’s upper back, digging in slightly with his fingernails, and fuck, Chris had better start moving or he was in danger of coming from this alone.
He used one hand to hold himself up while the other gripped Adrian’s hipbone tightly. Adrian met his gaze and looked so fucking cute and vulnerable as he mouthed “please” that Chris’s couldn’t stand making him wait any longer.
He pushed inside, fast and deep, before pulling out quickly and slamming in again, setting a brisk rhythm that almost made him dizzy to keep up. It felt amazing, and the pleasure spread beyond his groin to make his thighs, abs, and chest buzz with warm electricity.
He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Adrian’s face, watching his expression contort with pleasure and hearing his desperate cries and panting. He tried to focus his mind on recording this memory, so he could save it and revisit this exact moment for all the lonely nights in lockup.
“You like, that, baby?” he asked, though he knew the answer. Adrian nodded vehemently.
“Yes, fuck yes, right there! God, Chris, you feel so good.”
“You too, Adrian, you’re being so good for me.”
Adrian whimpered at being praised. He moved to touch himself, but Chris pushed his hand away gently, instead gripping the base of Adrian’s cock himself and stroking it to the tempo of his thrusts. His technique was admittedly sloppy, as he could barely focus for all the sensation his body was taking in, but Adrian didn’t seem to mind. His legs squeezed around Chris’s waist, pulling so hard he was in danger of knocking him off balance.
Adrian opened his eyes, looking up at Chris. “I’m so close, please, don’t stop.”
Hearing the desperate vulnerability in Adrian’s voice, Chris felt himself tipping toward climax as well. in fact, he hoped he could hold on long enough to fuck Adrian through his own orgasm. He squeezed at the base of Adrian’s cock, stroking him faster, and adjusting his angle to make sure he was hitting his prostate with every thrust. “God, I wanna see that, want to see you come for me, Adrian.”
Adrian’s hand found Chris’s on the bed and gripped it desperately. He threw his head back and moaned Chris’s name loud enough for them to hear it back in Evergreen. Chris felt him clench around his cock as Adrian came, the liquid coating his chest and Chris’s hand, and fuck, Chris couldn’t take it anymore.
He sank down to his elbows, his body covering Adrian’s and their chests pressing together. It wasn’t the easiest angle, but it felt so good, so close and warm, and Chris didn’t need much more to send him over the edge. Still panting, Adrian seemed to understand what Chris wanted, and wrapped his arms around his back, pulling him in and making him feel so stupidly safe. He ran his hands through Chris’s hair and spoke softly in his ear.
“So good, you feel so good. I’ve got you, Chris, I’ve got you. Go ahead, honey”
Chris buried his face in Adrian’s neck, moaning into the soft sweaty skin there as he came. Adrian stroked his hair and back through the spasms, and every place their bodies were touching was electric light. The liquid buzz of sensation surged through Chris’s body, and he loved this, loved Adrian, wanted it to never stop.
He collapsed on top of Adrian, hearing him grunt slightly at the weight, and felt the warm stickiness of Adrian’s come as their chests pressed together. He took a few seconds to let his heart rate return to normal, breathing hot against Adrian’s neck.
“I love you,” he whispered, as his mind started drifting back down to earth.
“You’re crushing my dick,” replied Adrian.
“Oh, shit, sorry.” Chris lifted himself up on his elbows again, and pulled his cock out of Adrian’s ass, causing Adrian to whimper slightly at the sensation. He shifted his weight to curl up by Adrian’s side, his leg hooked around Adrian’s and his head resting on his chest. Adrian reached up to stroke his hair.
Chris had never held someone like this before—it was usually the other way around, with the occasional chick who’s get cuddly after sex and wanted to lay across his chest. It felt nice, hearing Adrian’s heartbeat slowing down. Until, with a start, his heart began to beat faster, and his hand froze in Chris’s hair.
“Wait, did you say you love me?” he asked.
Chris shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
Adrian bit his lip. “Was that just a ‘post-sex crazy talk’ kinda thing, or…?”
Chris thought about it. He thought about how perfect this moment felt, how there had been only one person he could rely on over the past ten years, how every time something good or bad or hilarious happened, there was only one guy he wanted to call. He thought about how, when the trailer door had opened and he’d seen Vigilante at the table, for a moment he forgot prison and his father and the trial, and it had seemed like maybe everything would be OK.
“No, I think it’s the real deal. You’re kind of the only thing that keeps my life from being total dogshit. You, and Eagly. So I love both of you guys. I don’t want to fuck Eagly, though.”
Adrian smiled like a maniac and dove in for a kiss. He wrapped around Chris like kudzu, squeezing him tight and kissing him with sloppy passion. Chris laughed in surprise before kissing him back, holding him close and not giving two shits how messy they both were.
They settled on their sides, facing each other, arms wrapped around each other and foreheads close. It felt like being camping in a tent, inside their own little world, away from all the bullshit. He stayed there, just breathing, as long as he possibly could. But when the clock showed five minutes to spare, reality came sinking back in.
He looked at Adrian sadly. Adrian seemed confused for a moment, then concern set in. He understood.
“I don’t wanna go back,” Chris whispered. He was scared by how vulnerable he felt, and unsure if he could pull himself together to face the next few months (Years? Decades, most likely) with the steely resolve he would need.
Adrian nodded, looking distraught himself. “Me either. I’m sorry, Chris.”
This time, Chris heard the sentiment for what it was—not Adrian feeling guilty, or taking the blame, but acknowledging that it was a shitty situation he wished Chris didn’t have to go through.
Chris took Adrian’s hand, rubbing his palms and knuckles with his thumb. “I… don’t know what to do with all these feelings. It’s like, I didn’t have them before, or maybe I didn’t let myself have them, and now they’re all here, and they don’t have a place to go.”
Adrian sighed. “I don’t know either. And I’ve had them for a bit longer than you, I think. I guess I just put them in a box and try to only take them out on special occasions. Like a birthday, or Christmas.”
Chris met his gaze. “Does that work? Keep them from hurting?”
Adrian laughed dryly and shook his head. “Not at all.” He sucked in a breath, and Chris saw his eyes start to well up. “I’m gonna miss you like crazy. If you want, I’ll track where they send you. I’ll make a supergroup, we’ll bust you out, move to the Cayman islands, drink piña coladas with hula girls and surfer boys.”
Chris shook his head. “I’ll miss you too. But don’t do anything crazy. You’ve got a town to protect—Evergreen only has one hero now. It needs Vigilante.”
Adrian squeezed his hand. “But what if Vigilante needs Peacemaker?”
And what if Peacemaker needs Vigilante? And if they can’t have each other, what will they do? Chris didn’t have an answer. Instead, he pulled Adrian in for a final kiss, gripping his hand tightly, and tried to ignore the ticking clock counting down their time left together.
Most of the next few years weren’t real. The trial, the prison food, the fights with super-criminals and deranged mutants all trapped together in a giant cage. It was just background noise, filler Chris had to wade through half-awake. What was real were the phone calls with Adrian, the letters where he shared all the details about his life that they hadn’t been able to discuss before (apparently, he worked at a restaurant, and was really excited to be an uncle for his brother’s kid on the way). Chris’s favorite part was the photos Adrian sent. A few of them were very private, and Chris had to barter for a flashlight so he could jerk off to them under the covers at night. But most were just daily life in the real world—Adrian at work, or practicing new combat moves, or hanging out with Eagly. Chris pinned them up in his cell, and when he was surrounded by them and almost felt like he was back home, that was the real world. That’s all that really mattered.