ADAM’S HANDS’ LESS THAN EPIC ADVENTURES

6. “You know the way, don’t you?”

Adam doesn’t feel it change right away. He’s too caught up with what he’s seeing, with what he’s doing, to notice how his body’s reacting to it. It’s weird, because it feels like being split in two, his mind directly connected to his hand and to the rough, unclean outlines he’s drawing on the page, scratching its perfect whiteness with cuts and bruises, lines and stains, lights and shadows, and the rest of his body working on its own, his skin tingling with excitement, his muscles tensing to keep the right position on the stool, his teeth nibbling at his lips with nervous anticipation. And yes, his cock getting hard too.

It’s not that it hasn’t ever happened to him. Actually, drawing gave him some of the hugest hard-ons of his whole life. That one time when he had Annie sit on a stool with her legs parted and only a pair of shorts on, her hands busy holding an unfinished canvas of his up over her head as she looked at it from upside down is legendary, Annie and Leo still talk about it every now and then, about the fact that he was so hard he actually couldn’t sit anymore and had to keep sketching her standing.

Drawing’s what works best with him, which is probably why nothing Leo does to deliberately try and make him horny ever works. Leo’s always trying so hard. Adam understands he actually enjoys trying that hard – like, walking out of the shower and walking around him still naked and wet, or putting on unbelievably tight pants even though he’s not used to them and doesn’t even like them at all and so on –, that he has some kind of fun doing it, but sometimes Adam just wishes Leo would get it, already.

It’d be so easy to turn him on. He’d just have to lie down and let him draw him, but no, Leo’s too restless for that, he gets bored too easily and quickly to endure the unbearable torture that standing still for five minutes is. So, when he really wants to get fucked to the point he can’t wait anymore, he keeps walking around half-naked, even though he doesn’t need to show some skin to look sexy, and push himself on Adam harder and harder, even though he surely doesn’t need to be pushy to let Adam know he wants to have sex, and nothing of that ever works on Adam, and they always end up fighting.

It’d be so much better if Leo could just calm down, sometimes. Just wait for him to do the first step. Just stay there, where Adam can see him, and wait for arousal naturally start pumping through Adam’s veins. It would happen anyway, in its own time. But Leo always has got to have it when he says so, and he accepts nothing less. And those are the times when Adam thinks they’re never going to really work on the long distance. Though it’s a thought he keeps for himself.

Blaine hasn’t spoken once since Adam started drawing him. Adam guesses that’s why it’s being so pleasant to do it. The sitting room is plunged in silence, the only light noise filling the void being the quick, scratchy sounds coming from the tip of Adam’s pencil as he draws. Blaine’s sitting still on the couch, his legs stretched and barely parted, his bare chest moving up and down with his breaths, his hands resting lazily on his hips, his thumbs still hooked in the belt loops of his pants. He’s silent and he’s had nothing to do for actually way more than five minutes already – Blaine didn’t stop him when the time was up, and Adam figured it was alright to just go on – but he doesn’t seem bored, nor impatient to get up and move and do something already.

It’s fascinating, the way he looks. His eyes, so alive despite the unnatural stillness of his body. Adam knows Blaine was a model, for a short period of his life. Leo told him something about it, even showed him some photographs. Not that he didn’t like them, but photography never did much for him. It lacks the fierce strength of hand drawing, in his opinion. So he remembers those shots as interesting and kind of sexy, but nothing more.

The way Blaine’s glowing now, that’s the real thing. That’s a thing of beauty. His strong, masculine features, the squared line of his jaw, the perfectly shaped outline of each and every single muscle showing underneath his skin, the way he so nonchalantly poses for him, diving into it, getting lost in the moment.

The line of Blaine’s collarbone, the curve of his shoulders, the tension in his neck. Those details, Adam could worship them for hours. Drawing is his way of praying, and right now he feels as if he was chanting hymns for his own, personal God, a secret one, made more precious by the fact that he feels like His only believer, His only follower.

He wishes he could see Leo this way too. But he starts acting out and fidgeting so soon Adam never really manages to get there in time, with him.

He’s a slow burner, Leo’s like a firework. Sometimes it just hurts to watch him take flight and explode up in the air while he’s still locked on the ground.

He doesn’t want to think about this, now, though. Not now that he can so easily concentrate on something that’s actually able to give him some joy with no sorrow at all. Adam guesses this is one of the perks of actually having a fuck-buddy, if that’s what Blaine is. Love has a tendency to be overwhelming, and overwhelming things always come with more than just pleasure. Love has its ups and downs, and depending on how high the ups are, the downs can be low as hell. Adam and Leo have pretty low downs.

He doesn’t have downs with Blaine. Everything’s always up with him, in actually a lot of ridiculous and pleasant ways. Love sometimes just stands in the way and he’s happy it doesn’t stand between them.

He just feels comfortable, when Blaine’s around, despite all the weird shit they do. Which is why, when he puts down the pencil and sighs in relief, smiling at himself and at his job, he can’t help but laugh a little as Blaine says “You’re hard,” with a small chuckle of his own.

“Yeah, I know,” he admits, stretching out, “Happens all the time.”

“Adolescence?” Blaine laughs, standing up and finally buttoning his pants, reaching out for the shirt he abandoned on the back of the couch what seems like hours ago.

“Don’t think so,” Adam shrugs, shaking his head, “I’ve never been that kind of guy.”

“You mean the kind of guy who gets a boner looking at something sexy while in his teens?” Blaine asks, arching an eyebrow, “Who isn’t that kind of guy? Is it even possible not to be that kind of guy?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Adam chuckles, shrugging again, “I can only speak for myself and it doesn’t really happen a lot to me to get hard just because of a naked body. I need something else.”

“Something I could provide, I take?” Blaine says, his lips curling into a smug smile.

“Yeah,” Adam laughs, “Something like that. Listen, can I use the bathroom?”

“Are you really asking?” Blaine laughs out loud, “You’re so hard you can’t even walk, of course you can use the bathroom. Unless you want me to take care of it.”

“I’m a big boy,” Adam chuckles, “I can take care of it myself.”

“Yes, I know you can,” Blaine nods and smiles. “You know the way, don’t you?”

Of course he does, Adam thinks as he heads towards the bathroom, passing through the bedroom. It amazes him the amount of time he already managed to spend in this place. Before coming here, he was sure he wouldn’t have lasted five minutes. He was willing to try – because there’s nothing he isn’t willing to do for Leo – but he was sure as hell he couldn’t stand it. Blaine’s always been a complicated matter, with him, what with being Leo’s first love and lover, the object of his jealousy for years and the subject of some of the dirtiest fantasies he ever had, especially considering he’s never been one for dirty fantasies at all.

That’s why he was sure he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him – let alone let him touch him or worse –, but apparently he was wrong. Blaine’s still not the kind of person Adam would hang out with if he wasn’t forced by circumstances, he’s smug and full of himself and he’s kind of threatening in a subtle, mischievous way Adam’s not sure he understands well, but he’s far from the ugly, unbearable monster his memories had changed him into.

He’s understanding, he’s somewhat kind, somewhat considerate about people’s feelings – something both him and Leo, and even Annie in some way, don’t share at all, and which Adam firmly believes comes from his age –, he’s somehow a good man. Adam wouldn’t go as far as calling him respectable, or even nice, but he’s a good man.

He likes to think so— he has to think so, if he wants to keep the guilt of actually spend time with him and enjoying it at bay. He thick-minded and, as Annie likes to say, there’s not a single thing conceived after Nineteenth century that he can really accept and understand, but even he knows what’s really going on between him and Blaine. He knows this stopped being a teacher/student thing long ago, if ever it was one. There’s some sort of weird friendship between them, some vague communion based probably on the fact that they’ve been in love with the same person for more time than they care to admit with other than themselves. They understand each other on a basic, almost molecular level, and Adam knows this is part of the attraction he feels towards him.

That’s something he needed days to accept. That there’s something drawing him towards Blaine, that he actually finds him attractive in more ways than one, that somehow, sometimes, even his worst flaws can be so damn fascinating and intriguing, when he lets himself see him in the right light.

Blaine’s goodness and his badness are both equally attractive. Adam likes what’s good in him best, most of the times. Sometimes, though, Blaine turns to look at him and the wicked light in his eyes is sexier than anything Adam’s ever seen in his life.

Knowing him better made it not hard at all to finally understand why Leo fell so hard for him in first place. And Adam doesn’t know if it’s helping him or not with his present situation, but it sure is helping him to cope with years and years of neglect and indifference that have been weighing heavily on his shoulders for quite some time now.

Once in the bathroom, he takes some time for himself to really think about all this, and the only thing he can come up with after it is that he’s really thankful. He’s thankful for having Leo, for the years he had to wait to get him that started preparing him for the hardness he’d have to endure once he became his boyfriend, he’s thankful for all of Leo’s bitching and whining because it means he’s still expecting something from him and he’s not yet taking him for granted despite him having been the kind of friend you always take for granted for years, he’s thankful for his thick mind that always puts barriers on his path and he’s thankful for his stubbornness that always helps him jump over them when he’s ready for it. He’s thankful for not being stupid to the point of not being able to realize he needed help to overcome his issues, and he’s thankful to life for pushing Blaine on his way, because honestly, he can’t think of a better way to help himself getting better than putting himself in Blaine’s hands.

As he leans against the sink and slips his hand past the waistband of his pants, rubbing his warm fingers against his hardness and feeling it grow and throb under his fingertips, hot blood pumping through it, making it stiff and ready to the point of almost aching, he turns his brain off as he recently learned to do, and lets himself free to fantasize. In his head, Leo’s and Blaine’s faces almost merge, turn into something different, morph into a new person, one that holds in himself all the best qualities of them both, shaping out of the fog a perfect somebody that Adam wouldn’t want to be with for all the money in the world, if this was real life, but that he finds incredibly hot to think about as a fantasy.

As he lets his fingers close and then move up and down along his shaft, he gives in to pleasure, and he’s aware of everything. Of the tingling sensation crackling underneath his skin, of the deep, wild pleasure pooling up in his underbelly, of the light, lost moans escaping his lips every time his fingertips touch the oversensitive head of his cock, bringing him closer and closer to his climax by the second.

He’s aware of everything, except the half-closed door behind his back, and the hungry eyes spying on it from beyond it.

to be continued