Chapter Text
Blake drives through this part of town far more often than he likes admitting but it’s one of those nights and he needs a distraction, needs a warm body to help hiding the fact his bed is constantly and hopelessly cold these days.
He usually sticks to one side of the red district, the side with the pretty girls that will lend their bodies if he pays them enough. His only requirement is for them not to be blondes and then he’s game, doesn’t care about how much or how little make-up they’re wearing or how many pounds they have extra or how many they’re missing.
He’s never cared about perfection. He’s a simple, down-to-earth sort of guy. His fame hasn’t changed that.
When he falls for someone; he falls for the pretty and the ugly, falls for the whole picture, for the real person. The only mistake he’s ever made in his love life is assuming everyone falls in the same way because they don't—she sure as Hell didn’t—and now he’s alone with his misery and with only money but no real will to fix that.
He peruses the women for a long while, having trouble deciding which one to take home tonight.
Maybe he’s not drunk enough, he thinks, maybe he needs to down another quarter of that vodka he found in his mini bar.
He’s on his third round around the block when he spots him; tall, lean and striking in the tightest pair of skinny jeans he’s ever seen on a man along with a white tee with holes that has probably seen better days. His arms are covered in tattoos—the guitar on his forearm catches Blake’s eye the most—that make all the more obvious to him the man he’s ogling is a work of art, plain and simple.
He’s wearing boots and they’re not cowboy boots and he’s definitely—oh, most definitely—not his usual type but he’s a brunette and Blake is hooked.
He’s so hooked his dick has already taken an interest in the guy outside the car window, an interest that only goes up when he bends and picks a girl’s purse after she drops it, the swell curve of his ass highlighted by the way his jeans hug it like a second skin.
The girl smiles at him and kisses him on the cheek, giggling about whatever the guy—that ought to be a male model instead of a hooker in Blake’s humble opinion—tells her.
His waist is trim, almost like the kind of waist Blake’s used to holding between his hands, and he decides in a whim that yeah, he can’t wait to get his hands on him.
So what if he’s never been with a dude? There’s a first time for everything, ain’t it?
Blake’s life is falling to pieces and if he’s having a sexuality crisis on top of the clusterfuck of his failed marriage and his mounting depression, well—he’d do better not denying his own desires.
He rolls his window down and beckons the guy to him.
“Me?” he says, so stunned you’d think he’s not used to draw attention at all despite of his looks and his line of work.
Even in the dim light of the street, Blake can see he’s got hazel eyes and long, curled eyelashes that most women would probably kill to have.
He wonders if he’s a musician, if he sings.
Blake is good at figuring people out—alright, he’s good most of the time and obviously not when it really matters—and this guy surely looks like sex on legs but also like he belongs on stage with a mike in front of him and a guitar in his hands.
“You’re in the wrong side of the sidewalk if you’re looking for this kind of hook-up, man.”
“I know what I want,” Blake says, voice deep and husky betraying just how much he means what he’s saying, “Get in, rock star. Don’t play hard to get.”
The guy leans on the window, his smile turning cocky once he realizes just how badly the big dude in the truck wants him. “Not even going to ask me how much or anything, huh? I guess I’ll have to trust you and your dimply face then. I’m in.”
He hops in and winks at him as Blake starts the car.
***
The trip to his place is quiet. Blake is used to whoever he picks talking his ear off during it. He supposes that’s a women thing and doesn’t push, has half a mind to turn the radio on when his hired lover for the night breaks the silence.
“Hey, my name is Ad—“ the guy winces, ducks his head a little, “Adam, yeah, that’s actually my name.”
Blake raises an eyebrow at him. This is his first time with a man and if the guy is a newbie it could be fitting. He wouldn’t mind at all if that was the case.
Of course, Adam doesn’t know this and tries to fix his slip.
“I’m not a rookie, I swear. I’ll rock your world, you just wait,” he assures, an edge of desperation in his voice that makes Blake’s heartstrings pull in sympathy, “It’s just—it’s been a long night.”
“Tell me about it,” Blake agrees, smiling to let Adam know he’s lost no points in his book so far, “I’m Blake, by the way.”
He doesn’t tell Adam it’s his real name too but judging by the way he smiles brightly and goes back to being playful and chipper, he got it anyway.
***
He owns a house in town but keeps his affairs in his apartment. The whole fifth floor is his and there’s no danger of Miranda walking in on something she’d rather not see.
Just because she broke his heart doesn’t mean Blake wants to do the same to her. He tells himself even that is wishful thinking because she’s clearly over him, if she was ever into him at all, but can’t help wanting to spare her from what he went through.
A little part of him still loves her, the same part that longs for company and pushes him to search the only kind that can make him feel worse, that can make him forget he’s a good guy and could get anyone he wanted if he went out for a while and did some mingling and even some courting too.
The same part of him that just wants to be miserable and wallow in it.
Adam takes one look around, eyebrows shooting to his hairline, and turns to stare at him.
Blake knows this reaction. It’s the one he gets every time he brings someone here. It means he has things in his life that should allow him to get anyone he wanted and that he’s probably into very weird shit if he needs dollars to buy what he can’t otherwise get.
“Any kinky stuff will cost you extra, cowboy,” Adam says, shrugging, “Just saying.”
“Is good ol’ love making a kink, now?” he asks, “Because that’s what I have in store for you, sweetheart.”
“Woah, you’re a sweet talker, aren’t you?” Adam laughs and it’s such a pleased, appealing sound Blake can’t find it in him to get upset about it, “No, it’s not.”
He slides his hands all over Adam’s back—finally getting his hands on him like he’s wanted for the past half an hour—from his shoulders to his hips and then back up to his waist, keeping them there to flush him to his body.
“You’re so big,” Adam mumbles against his neck, hands clinging to his shoulder blades and voice a little awed. He’s amazed when Adam instantly notices how the one word makes him tense and amends it quickly, “I meant tall, baby. God, I could literally climb you like a tree.”
Blake surprises himself kissing his temple and freezes for a second. He chuckles, nervous, because all of this is always easy—paying for sex isn’t exactly complicated, it’s meant to be the exact opposite—but having Adam in his arms feels more than easy.
It feels natural and that’s unexpected and scary.
“Good,” he rumbles, pulling the smaller man to the master bedroom by the belt loops, “Because that’s what I’m paying you to do.”
The reminder of their roles seems to sober Adam. He lets go of him and starts undressing; first tentatively, probably checking if he wants a striptease or to undress him himself, and then quickly and assuredly, like he’s done this a thousand times and it’s nothing but a chore once he notices that’s not the case.
Blake is still regretting what he said by the time he has every bit of Adam available to leer and touch.
It’s more than breathtaking, how almost sculpted every dip and slant and line of his body seem, like a spur of a moment decision a God made to create something downright perfect, and Blake might be a song writer but he’s never been much of a poet and he can’t find better words to describe what he’s seeing and itching to kiss and grope.
There are more tattoos on his shoulders, which isn’t surprising, and more on his chest. He traces each one with wandering fingertips, stopping by Adam’s hipbones to turn him around and admire the ink on his back.
He’s always been a fan of tattoos, especially old school. He has just the one on his forearm and it’s an ugly attempt of a tattoo, at that.
He doesn’t remember what he was thinking the day he drew it and demanded to get it on his skin.
Chances are he was just piss poor drunk.
“How do you want me?” Adam asks, casual, head tilted to the side and back towards him letting Blake appreciate the delicate features of his face.
He wonders absently if there have always been men this beautiful and he just hasn’t been paying attention or if Adam is one of a kind and meant to open his eyes to him and him alone because there will be no other man like him, no other man that can awaken what Blake feels burning inside of him like a firecracker that sets a hearth on fire and gives it power to crackle and warm over for all the crisp months of winter to come and more.
Blake has done this dance before. He knows what to say not to spook Adam even more than he’s spooking himself.
“On your back.”
Adam complies, eyes roaming Blake’s figure as he takes his own clothes off slowly. His eyes travel from his bulky shoulders to his chest hair and lower, not stopping in his mid-section despite the flaws there from too much drinking and too little exercise and that’s a first for Blake.
Even with hookers, he’s always been able to pinpoint that brief and small moment of disappointment, even though he’s so far from sporting a pot belly that in his best moments—and no, he doesn’t’ have many of those—he thinks they’re all just being mean bitches, his ex-wife included.
Adam’s gaze seems to zero in on his hips and his thighs—even his calves get some attention before those hazel eyes lock with his, bright and frisky. He raises an eyebrow and stretches on the bed like a cat that’s just waking up from a nice nap, all graceful motions and slim lines.
“You gonna join me sometime soon or should I start by myself?” Adam quips, hand reaching for his dick that’s already half-hard and resting like a treat on his thigh. That’s the best compliment he could ask for since they haven’t even touched each other yet.
Blake shakes his head, knees bumping on the mattress at each side of Adam’s legs, and takes on the job the younger man was about to do.
Jerking off a cock is familiar enough. He’s not shy with it, fingers immediately stroking the vein and locking around it for a couple of firm pumps. He’s kind of impressed, to be honest, since Adam is well-endowed for such a little, lean guy.
And he swears he’s usually a polite client. If he wants a kiss, he checks with his bed companion first since in this kind of business transaction not all parties are interested in being loving and enjoying what’s going on as much as in getting certain parts into the necessary places and being done with it as soon as possible.
He doesn’t this time. He steals a kiss, just like that, covering Adam’s lips hotly with his own and sucking the little pants that are leaving Adam’s parted mouth. He uses one elbow for leverage and tilts Adam’s head for a better angle using his hand to grip his chin, thumb caressing Adam’s already wet bottom lip for an instant before taking it back between his lips.
Adam stutters a moan so loud it still echoes around them despite they muffle half of it in their mouths and surges in the kiss, teeth nibbling until Blake opens his mouth and lets him in, the control of the contact going back and forth between them like it’s a game they both want to excel at and loving every bit of it.
It’s so intense Blake finds himself blinking, lightheaded and so hard he’s sure he’s going to die if they don’t get on with it soon—harder than he’s ever been since the first flick of Adam’s tongue against his own—but Adam honest to God whimpers at his first try of leaving his mouth, a breathy ‘please’ all he needs to kiss him again and relinquish his hold on his cock in favor to rut against him and find some release in the friction against his thigh and groin, depending on how well he aims his hips, hand sneaking around him to grasp Adam’s rounded and perfect ass to push him up to meet him.
He’d be content coming just like this and Gosh, he could bet everything he owns that it’d be the best orgasm he’s ever had but somehow he collects himself enough to slow down and add some sweetness into the kiss, hand stroking Adam’s inner thigh to rouse a shiver in him.
“Where have you been all my life?” Blake breathes against his neck, nipping his way down until he gets to a spot that makes Adam moan and lingers there, sucking the skin to his mouth hard enough to bruise but not caring either for the extra that’s gonna cost him or how he’s doing it for the wrong reasons entirely, “You taste better than the finest rum I’ve ever had.”
Adam giggles breathily, tilting his head back to give him more skin to mark. “You’re so dumb. No one ever told you you don’t need to sweet-talk a whore to take them to bed? Especially if they’re already in your bed.”
“Maybe I don’t care,” Blake says, teasing, breaking apart enough to snatch lube from the nightstand drawer and thank all the heavens he’s bought the stuff ages ago to smooth things with the ladies instead of taking for granted they’d all be wet and ready for him. Why would they, if Miranda hadn’t even wanted him and he was her husband? “Maybe I’m just dumb. You’re gonna have to find out yourself, rock star.”
Adam makes room for him, legs spreading invitingly, cock fully hard against his belly now, and Blake bites his lip as he tries to relieve some of the ache in his own with his hand, having Adam’s pink pucker waiting for him to use as he pleases.
He’s noticed how they’re both pointedly not using their names even though they know them, and it makes him angry because deep down he wants something real, he’s dying for something genuine and sweet and soothing, he’s just too much of a chicken to go and look for it.
He’s almost flying blind by now, inexperienced as he is with a man. He’s not even tried anal with a girl and for some reason he wants Adam to think highly of him so he regrets that now.
He wants Adam to have him in his mind for days after this, wants Adam to think of no one but him as he writhes beneath another man from now on.
The thought makes him bitter and he coats his middle finger in plenty of lube, done with waiting and thinking, barely circling Adam’s entrance before pushing in all the way.
“C’mon,” he all but grunts, hand pressing Adam’s abdomen to the mattress so he can’t move, can’t do anything except taking what he’s giving him, “Show me how pretty you’re gonna look around my cock, Adam. Show me how well you’re gonna take it for me, darlin’.”
He’s not even done with the dirty talk when Adam is already keening and arching off the bed, upper body coiling in pleasure and heels digging into the mattress as he spreads his legs wider and pushes back against Blake’s hand.
“Shit—“ Adam curses and oh, Blake is a quick learner—he’s already figured out he discovered something great in his first try and gently circles it with the tip of his finger, kissing Adam’s knee when he shudders and cries out again, “Your fingers are so fucking long, Blake.”
“Oh?” Blake smirks, squeezing more lube into his hand to push his index finger in this time since it looks like he’s doing good so far, “I got something else that’s long that you’re gonna like.”
He brushes teasingly the leaking head of his cock between Adam’s cheeks. This is a bit of himself at least no one can look down on and he takes pride in it, in how thick and long he is, in how his length and girth are just this shy of being overwhelming and just enough to fill everything nicely and completely.
If he had the time and the self-control, he’d lick Adam all over—he’d mouth and map every inch of his smooth and inked skin until Adam forgot everything, even the need to come, and then he’d push right inside of him and delight in the screams he’d heard but he’s a weak man and he wants things fast and dirty for now.
Later, he thinks, later he’ll buy as much time as he possibly can to have this exquisite man trapped between his sheets with no desire or intention to leave his bed again.
He peppers Adam’s thigh with wet kisses as he adds a third finger. He watches his own hand at work in and out of Adam and inhales the musk there. It’s heady and different but definitely not unpleasant. He enjoys going down on girls a lot and he wasn’t kidding when he said he wants to lick Adam everywhere and he gives into it for a moment, tongue rolling Adam’s sack as his fingers make room for his cock.
Adam whines, high-pitched and unashamed, and Blake loves it, so he does it again. “Oh God,” he pants, “God, please tell me you’ve got condoms somewhere close.”
“Want me that bad, huh?” Blake teases, withdrawing his hand and attaching his mouth to Adam’s left hipbone, “This is my rodeo, what if I’m just starting?”
Adam hisses, breath ending in a moan as Blake mouths his way up to a nipple and sucks, and straightens up shakingly on his elbows to level him with a measuring look.
“No, I think you want to be inside me like, yesterday, and you’re just being a fucking tease,” he grins once Blake looks up, cocky and pleased, and adds, “Do you want me to beg? Do you want me to be so loud your whole building finds out how good you’re giving it to me?”
Yes, Blake would say any other day, yes, I want fake and loud and as filthy as it can get. I want to feel like the king of your world, like someone who ain’t real because he’s too damn good to be true.
“No,” he hears himself saying, heartbeat steady and anchoring as it rushes in his ears, lips brushing Adam’s almost tenderly as they look at each other from too close to see nothing but the need they have to be together, “No. I want you to be you. If you like begging, let me make it as hard as I can for you. If you’re a screamer, let me make you voiceless,” he pauses, shuts his eyes tight against the frightening truth that’s about to come out of his mouth and presses his forehead to Adam’s softly, almost apologetically so, “I want you, Adam, I want nothing and no one but you.”
He feels more than hears the breath catching in Adam’s throat, chest constricting and stuttering with it. He feigns he doesn’t notice that or how much wetter his eyes are now.
He grabs a condom from the nightstand, rolls it on, slicks himself up and lets his length align with Adam’s entrance on its own as he grips Adam’s thighs and leans down, putting a bit of weight on each one, muscles taut with the need to thrust right in.
“Blake,” Adam breathes just as he’s squeezed the tip in, eyes and mouth wide open, and it’s not as much about the sex as it’s supposed to be. It feels too real, too special, too right to be something he bought because they’re both desperate in different ways, “Blake, please.”
“I’ve got you,” he assures him, bottoms out with a groan and laps the bit of saliva that’s leaking out of the corner of Adam’s mouth before kissing him, “I’ve got you, Adam.”
It’s a frenzy race after that; hips meeting ass back and forth, limbs tangling in each other’s bodies to try and be a little closer. Adam moans and whimpers for him, thrashing and cursing like there’s no place he’d rather be than clamping around his dick and driving him crazy in ways he never knew were possible.
“You’re beautiful,” Blake murmurs, so gone he messes up the rhythm but he snaps his hips faster and makes up for it, relishing the almost-shout he gets out of Adam, “You’re so beautiful, Adam.”
His lover comes with a shout that’s half a sob and at least a quarter of disbelief.
Blake keeps going for five more thrusts before he’s groaning, hips gyrating in place as he empties himself in the condom and making Adam gasp quicker.
He holds the edge of it firmly and pulls out after catching his breath for a moment. He ties it and dumps it on the floor, hand looking for something to clean them both just enough to lie there for a while.
Adam is still panting and trembling when he’s done.
Blake kisses the tears on his cheeks away, shushing him gently as his arms guide him closer to him.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks quietly, an apology ready in the tip of his tongue in case he did.
“Are you kidding me?” Adam looks up at him, sleepy eyes squinting at him, “No one bothers to be this gentle, dude, where are you even from? Mars?”
Blake chuckles, happy and sated like he hasn’t felt in months. “Oklahoma,” he says, “But close enough. It’s like another planet compared to LA, yeah.”
“Good things grow in the South besides wheat, I see,” Adam hums, kissing his chest before pressing his cheek against it, “What else do you want? You still have like 25 minutes.”
“Sleep with me,” Blake replies, lips brushing his hairline sweetly, “I’m not kidnapping you or anything, I promise.”
“Okay, I’ll have to trust you.”
Adam laughs a little and Blake feels a pang of sympathy when it doesn’t even take him a minute to be out like a light.
He sings for a while under his breath until sleep finally claims him.
If I could
take you in
feeling you deep
beneath my skin
then I could
slip away
with you as a poison in my veins…
***
Soft, almost shy notes strummed in a guitar wake him.
He puts on some clothes and pads to the living room to find a half-naked Adam with one of his acoustic guitars. He always has a couple laying around for when the mood strikes and he can write a new song and the habit hasn’t died down despite of how long it’s been since the last time he felt like doing that.
He’s vaguely familiar with the melody Adam is playing and the name might be escaping him but not the beauty of it—the precise and impeccable movements of Adam’s fingers and how he loses himself in the music, eyes closed and body hugging the guitar like it could disappear any second if he lets go of it.
It’s been five minutes, maybe, when Adam realizes he’s got an audience now and stops, putting the instrument on the couch beside him hastily.
“Sorry,” he whispers, cringing in a way that makes Blake’s heart ache, “I wasn’t going to steal it or anything, I just—I wanted to know if I still knew how to do that. It’s been a while since I played.”
Blake shakes his head and crouches in front of him. “Yeah, you suck as a thief, I gotta say, but you’re a damn good guitarist.”
He smiles, encouraging, and hands the guitar back to Adam.
“C’mon, play me something else, something that I can actually pronounce.”
Adam laughs but it’s short-lived. He looks down and takes a deep breath like he’s gathering strength and lets go of the guitar almost finger by finger.
“It’s late. I should get going,” he mutters, standing up and walking to the bedroom without looking back.
He’s so quick in putting his boots and his t-shirt on Blake hasn’t even moved from where he is and has yet to decide what to do.
Adam hangs back near the hall, so awkward and sad Blake wants nothing but to take him back to bed but knows better than to offer even if he’d be paying again.
He drags his feet to his bedroom, fishing his pants to get his wallet. He bites his lips, stalling for almost a minute, and settles on doing something crazy because being nice and proper hasn’t worked out well for him and he, quite frankly, doesn’t give a damn anymore.
Adam can rob everything he owns next time if he wants to. Blake won’t stop him.
He strides to a separate room for the guitar case and goes back to the living room to put the instrument away and give Adam his money with a little plus, grabbing his hand to close it around the handle of the case.
“Take it,” he says firmly, pushing the guitar back to Adam when it looks like he’s about to refuse what’s probably the best thing that’s happened to him in a long while, “It’s a loan so you can play something for me next time.”
“Just how drunk are you, man?” Adam asks, gaping, “I could sell this for a lot of money and never see you again. It’s a big city. You wouldn’t find me.”
“I guess I’ll have to trust you,” he quotes, grinning, “What do you say? Do we have a deal?”
Adam grips the guitar more firmly, looking briefly at it before meeting his gaze and nodding. “Yeah, okay. I’m in.”
Adam beams for the first time, dimples shy but clear, and Blake tells himself is okay to steal one more kiss.
It doesn’t look like Adam wants to complain or charge him for it, standing on his tiptoes to kiss him right back.
“Thank you,” Adam breathes against his lips, “Ask for Jack if you can’t find me.”
“I will,” Blake says and watches him go.
He spends a long while afterward taking comfort in the way Adam turned around one last time to see him before going away.