synner23: (Gun!Kink)
[personal profile] synner23
Five Acts! :D

+ Post a list of your five favorite acts/kinks to read about. Check out this list if you need some inspiration. At the bottom of your post, add what fandoms/pairings you're interested in.
+ Read other people's lists; the master list of lists is here.
+ Post comment-fic based off of other people's interests.

Fandoms and pairings:

Supernatural: Dean/Sam, Castiel/Gabriel, Michael/Adam, Lucifer/Gabriel/Michael, Michael/Gabriel, Lucifer/Gabriel, Dean/Adam, Michael/Adam/Lucifer, Sam/Adam, Ruby/Jo, Meg/Ruby, Lilith/Ruby

Supernatural RPS: Misha/Richard, Jensen/Jared, Matt/Richard, Mark P/Richard

Sons Of Anarchy: Chibs/Tig, Clay/Tig, Jax/Tig, Kozik/Tig, Chibs/Tig/Jax, Chibs/Tig/Kozik, Gemma/Tara

Sons Of Anarchy RPS: Tommy/Kim, Kenny/Kim, Ron/Kim, Tommy/Kim/Kenny

Kinks: Begging or offering (begging or pleading for mercy, for sexual release, to be taken; a character offering himself; neediness)
Biting (marking, nipping, nibbling)
Guns and gun-play (guns as fetish objects; gun-battles as flirting or foreplay; guns used for sexual penetration; of Russian Roulette)
Master and slave (erotic or romantic slavery, or otherwise)
Power issues (inequities in beauty, rank, or class; power ; BDSM; power reversals; sheikhs, sultans, princes, and other royal figures; teacher/student pairings; magical powers; abuse of power; blackmail; romantic slavery; liege/lord pairings; issues of respect; sexual scenarios such as a dominant character giving his partner to others to use, or a character kneeling beneath a desk and blowing someone who's on the phone)

Fics For Me:

Supernatural, Gabriel/Castiel, NC-17, mafia!AU, gun kink (warning for dubcon) by [ profile] zekkass

SPN, The Grade You Deserve, Michael/Adam, PG-13, (teacher/student, dubconish, implied underage) by [ profile] ladyknightanka

Yes - Supernatural - Michael/Adam/Lucifer - R - Begging, Biting, Power Issues by [ profile] super_seme04

Betrayal; SPN, Gabriel/Lucifer, human!AU dub-con-ish, DARK, all the kinks, incest [1/2] by [ profile] princess_aleera

Ashes, SPN, Michael/Adam Mafia AU. Gunplay. Biting. Power Issues. Dub-con by [ profile] nights_fang

Fics By Me:

This Is All Father's Fault, Supernatural, Archangel OT4, Mpreg, Bonds, Wing!Fic, & Domesticity, PG-13 for [ profile] pandionpandeus

Haunting Me, Saving Me, MAL, Supernatural, Hurt/Comfort, Soulbonding, PG for [ profile] ladyknightanka

I Will Not Bow, Godstiel/Gabriel, Supernatural, Collars/Collaring, Orgasm Denial, NC-17 for [ profile] zekkass

Won't You Touch Me, Touch Me, SPN, Michael/Adam, Fingers, NC-17 for [ profile] _bluebells

A Different Kind Of Grace, SPN, Anna/Young!Mary, Tentacles, NC-17 for [ profile] theinsaneeraser

Stripes, Suits, Harvey/Mike, Restraints/Restraining, NC-17 for [ profile] sycophantastic

Mine, SPN, Adam&Sam&Dean, Jealousy, PG for [ profile] thedreamisreal

Relax Into The Need, SPN, Michael/Lucifer, Anti-Hero, Tattoos, Attention, R for [ profile] super_seme04

Sweet And Unexplainable, SPN, Bela/Jo, Bondage,!Kink, R for [ profile] nights_fang

Strange And Lovable, SPN, Gabriel/Castiel, Inexperience, Taboo Relationships, Unusual Partners, R for [ profile] princess_aleera

(no subject)

Date: 2011-10-16 09:18 am (UTC)
ext_3665: (Gabriel The Janitor)
From: [identity profile]
It was too big for one comment, so I went and put it up at my LJ.

Supernatural, Gabriel/Castiel, NC-17, mafia!AU, gun kink (warning for dubcon)

Hope you enjoy!

(no subject)

Date: 2011-10-16 06:05 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
*scurries off to read*
From: [identity profile]
A/N: Hope you like it, love! ♥


Michael is grading essays when Adam appears. The sound of paper crinkling alerts him to the boy's presence and he looks up, blinking at the hunched figure that fills his doorway.

“Can I help you, Mr. Milligan?” he inquires, slipping his heavy, black-framed glasses off the bridge of his nose. The boy merely scowls at him, a familiar purse of his lips that Michael is very familiar with, that materializes whenever Adam is confused. He sees it more often than Adam's previous teachers predicted. The boy is unfocused in his class, rather than the excelling student that they promised. “Come in,” Michael finally says.

Adam sighs, but stalks forward and drops himself into the chair facing Michael's desk, slapping his paper down. A bright red 'D-' decorates the top. “This can't be right.” There's a note of desperation in his voice, false confidence in his declaration.

“I'm sorry,” Michael replies gently, clasping his hands together to peer at Adam over them. “If you want, I can stay after school to tutor you. With my help, perhaps you can grasp the concept enough to pass the next test.”

“I don't care about the next test!” Adam barks, slamming his fist down on the desktop. The motion startles one of Michael's papers from the top of his pile, riled air blowing it to the floor, and he frowns from it to Adam, who looks unrepentant. “The next report card is in a week. There's no way a fucking tutoring session will help me with that.”

“Language, Mr. Milligan,” Michael says, a dangerous edge to his own tone.

Adam falters at the sound of it and bites his lower lip, taking coy glimpses of his teacher through his eyelashes. “I'm sorry,” he mumbles, “but I can I do this? My mom's gonna be so disappointed and the colleges – oh God, the colleges are gonna drop me like a hot plate when they see the nosedive my grades took. Please, Mr. Milton, please don't let that happen!”

He's flushed a delicate pink now, pale blue eyes practically welling in his boyish face, a contrast to the temperamental teenager Michael is acquainted with. It wrenches something in Michael's chest. As the oldest brother to four younger siblings, he's used to the affect of such an expression.

“I'm not sure what I can do,” he begins slowly, regretfully, and Adam surges forward on his elbows.

“I'll do anything,” the boy whispers, emphasis on the final word.

Michael searches his face for a moment, finding nothing but conviction there. He stands up, Adam's eyes latched on him, then locks the door, pulling down its curtain for good measure, before returning to his seat.

“Perhaps our after school sessions can help more than you think,” he tells Adam, his gruff murmur shooting a shiver down the boy's skinny frame. The next day, he informs his class of their lowest grades being dropped, his eyes dutifully taking no notice as Adam squirmed and smirked in his seat. One could never go wrong with a fresh start.
From: [identity profile]
Hahaha, abusing your powers as usual, Michael; I love it. And well done, Adam, that's a win not only for yourself, but the whole class. I'm sure they'd send him fanmail if they could. ;P
From: [identity profile]
Oh yes, the class indeed holds Adam in high regard. I know I would, for a reward like that. XD And since abuse of power was part of this prompt, I feel very accomplished with Michael right now, as well.
From: [identity profile]
He's making up for his lack of holy general status. Someone has to succumb to his power, no? Although, I can easily see Adam wrapping him around his little finger, as their relationship progresses. XD
From: [identity profile]
He's not the one either of them want, but he's not a substitute, either.

In Adam, there is Dean's stubbornness and Sam's empathy tempered by bitterness.

Even if he didn't say that one, small, little word, they still could have taken him. Held him down and help him open then taketaketake until the shell of a creature driven to madness in the shape of Man was the only thing left of him.

They don't, though.

Because they can't.

For all their power, they could only hurt Adam, but never have him.

Michael thought he understood, but he doesn't get it until they make him watch.

Until they show him.

They face him and Michael's fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt. He's the only one dressed, but has never felt more bare.

Every sensation is too much and the very air seems to vibrate against his skin.

Lucifer chuckles and Michael lets out a low whine as he watches his brother rock into Adam lazily. He has Adam on his knees and the only thing keeping him from falling to a slick, sated mess on the bed is Lucifer's arm around his waist and his fingers splayed over his heart.

Michael almost lost his resolve when Adam arched and moaned as Lucifer stretched him open with calculating fingers that left both of them aching.

Michael watches and feels the taste of iron coat his tongue when Adam makes a particularly sinful sound as Lucifer's teeth sink into the soft flesh of his shoulder.

There isn't a single place they haven't touched Adam.

They've filled him so completely and that's what breaks Michael.


The word leaves his throat feeling raw, but he's trembling with how much he wants this, how much he wants them.

"Please," he repeats.

Lucifer hides his serpent smile against Adam's neck then puts his arms under Adam's to support his as they open to receive Michael.
From: [identity profile]
Ngh. How have I not yet responded to this? HOW? I love your powers of rarepairdom. This was hot, aching and everything that I love.
From: [identity profile]
(This is very much bordering on non-con and tortureat the beginning, but it ends up consensual. JSYK. Also I'm sorry, but with kinks/prompts like these, how can I possibly keep the sadistic part of my Muse back? O.o )

It's a Glock, Gabriel notices, and closes his eyes when he feels the cold metal against his temple. He's breathing heavily, his body heaving, arms stiff with trying not to move or fight the handcuffs restraining him. "Brother," he whispers.

Lucifer shushes him and trails a cold finger across Gabriel's cheek, too gentle for the harshness of the situation.

"No, Gabriel," Lucifer says very calmly, his voice so quiet Gabriel struggles to hear it at all, "I need you to be very, very still."

Gabriel lets a whimper escape his throat, and his brother shushes him again.

The gun moves, trailing oh, so slowly across his forehead until it rests right between his eyes.

"Do you want me to pull the trigger?" Lucifer asks calmly.

"No. Please." Gabriel bites back another apology; a reason for Lucifer not to do it.

Lucifer makes a 'hmmm'ing sound. The gun trails further down, nudging against his lips. They are firmly pressed together. Gabriel can smell metal and gunpowder and death.


He does. By God, he does. Gabriel still has his eyes closed, and he manages to keep the tears at bay while his brother fucks the Glock in and out of his mouth.

"You look good like this," Lucifer muses, his voice nearly in Gabriel's ear.

Gabriel sobs.

"Ssh, don't cry," Lucifer soothes him and kisses him on the temple. "You know why you're here." The gun slips out.

"I didn't tell him, Luci," Gabriel gasps out, voice wrecked already. "I swear. I didn't tell them anything."

"Shush, Gabriel." And the gun is forced back in, the movements rougher now.

Gabriel grunts in discomfort, but stays still. He knows the gun is loaded, and he also knows his brother's anger.

Finally Lucifer seems pleased, and the gun trails down Gabriel's bare chest until it rests against his heart.

"My blood kin," Lucifer says quietly and cocks the gun.

"Luci, please, you have to believe me," Gabriel sobs out.

"If you didn't tell Michael where I was hiding, who could it have been, Gabriel?" Lucifer's voice never wavers, never sounds angry. Just coldly detached.

"I don't know. I don't know, but it wasn't me," Gabriel says, shaking his head slowly. "You know I've always been on the outside. I'm neutral. I don't want anything to do with this."

Lower still, the gun slips, until finally the chilled metal is nudging against Gabriel's crotch. Despite the situation, he's half-hard, and the knowledge terrifies and exhilirates him. Which again leaves him yet more confused of this whole situation.

"Lie back, Gabriel."

"Lucifer, please. Don't- no."
From: [identity profile]

Lucifer flips the gun upwards too fast for Gabriel too notice, and fires. The shot sounds like it goes through the roof, but Gabriel yelps and curls tighter in on himself. He's trembling.

"Lie. Back."

Gabriel does. He spreads his legs, too- knows what's coming, even if he fears it. "Please, brother..."

"Raphael did once stay on the sidelines next to you," Lucifer says and moves in between Gabriel's legs. His hands are colder than the gun, trailing up Gabriel's inner thighs. "And we both know where he ended up."

"I'm not Raphael," Gabriel spits out, a flare of anger in the midst of all the mind-numbing fear. "I would never betray you."

"Open your eyes, Gabriel," Lucifer says, seemingly ignoring his younger brother's pleas.

Blinking his eyes open, dreading the sight, Gabriel squints at the harsh light of the room. His eyes locks with his brother's immediately, and he shrinks back from the Glock resting just outside his entrance.

"What were you talking about with Michael three nights ago?" Lucifer asks, almost mildly, and Gabriel flinches. "Oh, yes. I know of that. Michael is not the only one with spies."

"That had nothing to do with- urgh-" Gabriel fights the intrusion,but his brother is relentless and only pushes the gun in harder, faster. "Luci, it hurts."

"I know it does." But his movements grown gentle, his free hand trailing soothingly across Gabriel's abdomen while the gun disappears slowly into the younger brother's body. "Tell me what you talked about."

Gabriel swallows, tears gathering in his eyes. "I got money from Michael," he whispered.

Luci's eyes hardened, but his voice remains the same. "For information about me?"

Gabriel shakes his head. "No. I don't lie to you, Luci; I would never betray you." His hand clench minutely, half wanting his brother to take it in his own.

"Then why would you need the money?" Luci asks, hard, but the thrusting of the Glock is much gentler now. Almost hesitant. He's listening, at least.

"I'm leaving," Gabriel whispers, ashamed to admit it. "I can't stand being on the sidelines anymore, watching you two try to take each other down. I was going to move."

"Where to?" Lucifer asks, and he looks genuinely surprised. The hand with the gun stills.

"Brazil," Gabriel said and gave his brother a sad, shaky smile. "You know how I've always wanted to visit Rio de Janeiro."

Lucifer closes his eyes and exhales slowly. Then he pulls the gun out of Gabriel. "Sit up."

Gabriel does what he's told, a bit awkwardly since he's still handcuffed.

Lucifer's hand strokes away the sweaty bangs in Gabriel's face. He looks so lonely and vulnerable right now, as if he's the one completely at his brother's mercy. "You want to leave," he says, and it's not a question.

Gabriel leans into the touch when Lucifer strokes away his tears. "I know you will end up killing each other in the end, and I can't- I can't be here for that. I'm sorry, Luci. I love you more than the world, but you can't ask me to do that." He opens his eyes to look pleadingly at his brother. "I will do anything for you, but not this."

Lucifer trembles, just slightly, and then nods. "I won't. I won't." He leans over to kiss his brother, and there is nothing cold or reserved about him now, Just desperation and loss.

"I'm sorry," Gabriel whispers against Lucifer's lips, arching as much as he can to show Lucifer that this isn't something taken by force.

"You were always the middle child, even if you're the youngest of us," Lucifer smiles sadly, and draws back to rid himself of his jeans. When he breaches Gabriel, the younger brother is ready for it.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Gabriel keeps whispering as they rock together towards release, Lucifer clinging to him and Gabriel biting his brother's lip to keep him close. It takes neither of them long to come, and when they do their orgasm is almost painful.

They breath together after it's done, Lucifer leaning his head on Gabriel's torso. He suspects his big brother is crying, but he doesn't ask.

From: [identity profile]
There are many reasons Adam Milligan hates his father and just the Winchester name in general. One was because his father for most of his life was a no show. Secondly because it's his father's fault his mom was gunned down, because he wanted to play occasional white picket fence, and didn't tell them he was a Mafia don. He hates his brothers who got him involved in the life despite repeated attempts of Adam to get away once he found out.

But what he hates the family the most for is this. Being taken captive by the Angelus family. He was nineteen was the Angelus family kidnapped him, while aiming for his brothers, instead. Nineteen and finally away far enough with a new name, and no Winchesters on his trail. He was burning brightly through Pre-Med, aiming for Med and an eventual Doctors Without Borders, when he woke up to gunshots one night, Dean and Sam showed up at his doorstep, bloody, and turned his whole world upside down. And then the bastards escaped, and Adam didn't, and someone by the name of Zachariah had caught him, deemed him a good present, present for the two heads of the family. Michael – the older brother had taken one look at him, and not even caring about the fact that Adam was fucking wounded, had laid claim to him. That's what he's been ever since. A receptacle for his lust and substitute for the Winchester brother he obsessed over – Dean. And the Winchesters didn't come for him.


“You're late.” Michael says as he enters Michael's study not even looking up from the documents he's studying, but the gun trained on him motions for him to come closer. Adam's run all the way here from the other wing of the house, the moment he found out Michael called. He's breathless, panting, and considering he's still made it late: terrified, because it means he's going to be punished for this.

Gulping he closes the door, not bothering to lock it behind him – it's a rule, he can't lock the door whenever he's alone with Michael – and sends a prayer that Michael is in a good mood. And if he isn't, he prays that Michael's ire isn't Winchester related. That's when it means Michael's at his worse. He's far too rough, leaves too many bruises, leaves Adam far too sore.

“What are you waiting for?” This time Michael does look up, eyes harsh, his voice is far too level, and the temperature in the room feels like it shot up. Yep definitely Winchester related. Adam gulps, scrambling towards the desk and trying to make sure his hands aren't shaking as he unzips his pant, and undoes the buttons on his shirt.

The gun is still unexpected after all the times Michael's used it before. Adam's not sure if he'll ever get used to it. It's cold against his skin as Michael trails it down as Adam undoes his shirt, right into Adam's open pants making Adam shudder when it touches his cock (another rule, no underwear); and then right back up again until it's at his lips. He's almost hesitant when he opens his mouth and lets Michael shove it inside. Michael cocks the gun, and Adam forces himself to be as calm as possible, to not gulp or show any more signs of fear. Michael doesn't like him being jittery.

Adam waits for Michael's next move. It doesn't happen, but Michael simply glares at him. Adam realises exactly why Michael hasn't done anything yet. If his mouth wasn't busy around the nozzle of the gun he'd be hastily murmuring apologies. Instead he starts sucking the nozzle as if he were sucking Michael, eyes closed because he's half terrified he's perhaps got what Michael wanted wrong.
From: [identity profile]
He's not even aware of how long he's been sucking the gun, when he feels Michael push him onto the desk, tugging off his pants. Adam doesn't offer any resistance, kicking his pants away as it pools at his feet, and settling himself on the hard wood. If he pleases Michael just right now, then maybe he'll be less rough with Adam today. Maybe he'll pull the gun away soon, because Adam's jaw is starting to hurt.

Michael pushes further, until Adam's on his back on the table, and hooks Adam's leg over his still clothed shoulder. His fingers are cold and slimy when they slide inside Adam, two at once, scissoring him, because Michael never has patience to stretch Adam slowly enough. Adam is the one who has to remember to relax, to try and accommodate.

But today is different. Michael keeps working his fingers in and out, slowly adds a third and stretches him. It's almost languid, and it confuses Adam. He gasps around the gun when those fingers are replaced by Michael's dick, and fuck despite the lube and the extra prep today it still burns.

His hands scamper for purchase on the desk – Michael would hate it if Adam creased his suit – as Michael leans over and starts thrusting in him with a brutal rhythm: hard, fast, deep. Michael's fingers dig into his hip leaving bruises. Adam tries to keep up, thrusting back despite how much it hurts, because he knows, knows Michael likes it.

Michael groans, pulling gun away from Adam's mouth, and replacing it with his own, as he nearly bends Adam in half. The kiss is all teeth like it always is, Michael biting Adam's lips and tongue, but it lingers for a long time, almost stealing Adam's breath. Then Michael's mouth is moving down over his jaw and his neck to leave angry red marks that Adam knows will be there for days. And honestly the only pleasure he's getting out of this is whenever a little of the fabric of Michael's suit brushes against his dick. Until he feels Michael stop and his hand roughly wrap around him and begin pumping him.

Michael stops that too, pulling away completely, and settling back down into his chair, shrugging off his blazer as he does so. He looks dishevelled, and the afternoon light from the windows shines on his hair like a dark halo.

“Come here.” He gestures for Adam to straddle him. Adam does, hiding a wince as he gets off the table, and being secretly glad that there's hardly any distance between it and the chair. His legs feel like jelly.

The leather is cool against his skin, and the chair feels restrictive. Adam's not sure exactly what's about to happen next, but for all it is he doesn't expect Michael's fingers sliding in him again. Prodding in like he's prepping Adam, and wasn't fucking him into the desk moments ago. When Michael finds that spot Adam sees stars, and his moan is cut short because Michael chooses that exact moment to cup the back of Adam's neck and swallow it down with a kiss that steals Adam's breath away.

This is new. This is very new. Michael never does this. Never even bothers about getting Adam off when they fuck. And if he talks, it's to make Adam reassert that he's Michael's property. Today makes no sense. Michael's still been rough, but still the extra prep, the kiss, Michael's hand, words, it's confusing Adam too much. Adam doesn't know what to do, where to touch, what's allowed, and what isn't.

He came in here expecting punishment, anger, and well not this. Michael isn't this way even when he's being gentle. It's like he's being loving, and it throws Adam completely off kilter.

Michael's fingers slide out, and both his hands come on Adam's hips, guiding them so that he can take Michael in again. The pace is slow, too slow, and Michael doesn't allow him to pick it up, until he hits the right angle making electricity shoot up Adam's spine. Then it's back to the breakneck one that Adam is used too, making Adam's blood rush through his ears, while Michael's hand goes back to pumping Adam.
From: [identity profile]
“You are so beautiful like this.” Michael murmurs into his skin nipping a trail along his collar bone. His voice is breathy, almost a rasp, and Adam's hips arch as Michael's thumb brushes over the tip of his cock. Adam's close. He can feel his orgasm building up in him, and by the way Michael's other hand on his hip squeezes, he knows Michael is close too.

Michael buries his face into the crook of Adam's neck as he comes, groaning softly, hand not stopping. Adam follows soon after, sagging against Michael when he does. He makes a soft noise when he feels Michael's hand come up to his hair, raking a soft massage over his scalp, and guides his mouth to Michael's into another kiss. This one lazy and languid.

“As you can see, your younger brother is being treated perfectly well. More than well.” Lucifer's amused voice floats in through the haze of Adam's afterglow, shattering it; and when Adam looks up his gaze meets Sam's own wide eyed one.

Sam is here.

Sam Winchester is here.

Adam makes to move, pull away, but Michael's arm around him holds him firmly in place, and he can feel Michael's smirk pressed into his shoulder.

“Lucifer, I thought I said no disturbing us.” Michael's tone would sound perfectly annoyed to anyone who didn't know him.

“Sorry, but Sam here, insisted, and well I've been trying to pull him away for a while now. We'll be leaving now, won't we Sam? I think we've disturbed the happy couple long enough. See you in the conference room brother.” Lucifer's eyes dance in a twisted sort of delight, as Adam helplessly watches him steer Sam out of the room, and close the door behind them.

A while, Adam thinks, feeling his stomach drop. They'd been there for a while. And when he turns back to face Michael, Michael is still smirking, eyes glinting with a sick sense of victory.

“They got here later than expected, and were watching a little after you straddled me, and started fucking yourself on my fingers.”

Michael knew this would happen. He planned it. The kissing, the gentleness, everything slots into place. It was all an elaborate farce.

“Why?” Adam chokes on the word.

“Because,” Michael hums the word as he trails his lips over Adam's jaw, gentle and loving, and it makes Adam sick to his stomach. “The family would not be able to negotiate a truce with them, if I kept you. And I have no intention of returning you back to them.” His hand tightens possessively around Adam's hip, and his gaze goes dark and hooded raking slowly over Adam's naked skin, reminding Adam of the first night Michael laid eyes on him, making Adam shiver.

Adam hates the Winchesters for everything that's happened to him. Michael wouldn't have touched him even if didn't have Winchester blood in him. And now they've brought into his plan, and Adam's probably damned here to this for god knows how much longer.

But the saddest fact is, Adam hates the Winchesters, because for some twisted reason, even after all this, he can't bring himself to hate Michael.
From: [identity profile]
Third in the series of Human!AU starting here and continued here.


By the time Michael comes home, Adam and Lucifer have cleaned up the shattered mess of Michael’s liquor cabinet and straightened their ruined clothes from the previous night. When Adam saw Lucifer to the door, the parting had been surprisingly comfortable: even amicable.

Adam is grateful for Lucifer. Last night was the first time they had a real conversation, and it helped to have someone who knew what it was like when the love of your life stopped seeing you when you were right in front of them.

Adam pities Lucifer for knowing this hurt so well.

Adam wonders if he should be wary of Lucifer who took him apart so easily in his hands. He isn’t.

“What is that?”

Adam looks up sharply from the bowls he’d been unstacking in the dishwasher to the kitchen counter. He glances over his shoulder and around the room, but nobody else is there, and he feels stupidly incredulous when he realises that Michael is staring at him.

“Are you talking to me?” Adam blurts because Michael hasn’t so much at looked at him except to criticise or glare in the last month.

Michael stands on the other side of the counter, just beyond arm’s reach, and he’s wearing the same suit from the night before when he stormed back to the office.

Adam wondered sometimes if Michael was moving into his workplace just to avoid the sight of him.

“What is that?” Michael’s voice is sharp, and his blue eyes narrow at something below Adam’s eyes.

And then it comes flooding back to Adam: the burn of his necktie cording tighter around his throat, around any thoughts or voice about the reality Adam was drowning in except for Lucifer’s hand over his cock and the sweet, strangled climb towards oblivion.

The skin of his neck feels raw and tender when he lifts a hand to touch experimentally. Shit, why didn’t he remember to cover this up before Michael came home?

Well, maybe because he didn’t expect to see Michael at all.

His eyes widen when Michael rounds the counter, briefcase forgotten on the dining table. His attention is fixed on the angry, red cloth burn around Adam’s neck, and Adam flinches when Michael reaches for him.

Michael stops with a look of surprise.

“Adam, what happened?” His voice has softened, he searches Adam’s face carefully, and Adam’s heart hammers painfully against his ribs.

He can’t remember the last time Michael looked at him as though he cared. That hurts.

The sting in his eyes is completely unbidden and he shakes his head when Michael steps in, hands taking his shoulders, because he doesn’t want Michael to touch him after what Adam did, after the horrible way Michael’s been treating him, but oh God, what Adam did….

“Adam.” Michael sounds crestfallen and he hugs Adam to his chest, careful and tight.

Adam sobs when Michael kisses his forehead. What did Michael think he was doing? After the torture of the last few months, to pretend he cared now?

He tries to tell Michael to let go and get off because they weren’t on speaking terms – let alone touching – and Adam is so furious he’s trembling.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

“Who did this to you? What happened? Adam, who hurt you?” Michael pushes a hand through Adam’s hair, looking so concerned he’s almost moved to pain, and Adam finally understands.

Michael thinks Adam was attacked.

Adam is shaking his head before he’s thinking it through, but his tremors are so bad that his weak efforts to put distance between them are easily overpowered.

“No.” Adam shakes his head, his voice is thick and choked, cracking under the weight of uncertainty. “No, I don’t want you –“

I don’t want you to pity me. I don’t want you to touch me only because you think somebody else did.

Michael’s flinch of hurt stills as he studies Adam’s face. The hurt shifts and slowly melts into understanding.

Adam wonders how ugly his guilt looks.
From: [identity profile]
The familiar ice has crept in behind Michael’s eyes and his fingers tighten around Adam’s shoulder.

“Who did this to you?” This time when Michael asks, his tone brims with barely restrained anger, and Adam gasps when Michael squeezes his arms. “Did you ask for it?”

“You weren’t here,” Adam murmurs, voice tight, distracted by Michael’s grip. It might leave new bruises in his skin. Michael had never held him like this before and it was confusing: part of him was scared, but the larger part of him was weak with relief that Michael was touching him at all. He hated himself for even thinking that.

“I wasn’t here? And so you let someone do this to you?” When Adam only swallows through the lump in his throat, Michael pushes him back against the counter to look at him as though searching for further faults. “Did you let them touch you?”

Hands grip his hips, palm his lower ribs through his shirt, and when Michael takes his shoulder, crushing Adam against the counter top with his tall frame, Adam’s arm swings out in shock and the porcelain bowls crash to the floor. Michael just nuzzles his ear in a rough mockery of affection, and Adam whimpers at the hand that pushes down his back.

“Did you tell them you’re mine?” Michael growls and Adam flinches when the kiss to his cheek is sharpened with teeth scraping along his jaw.

Once upon a time that might have been hot. But now he’s stranded at low tide somewhere between livid and terrified.

“Michael.” Adam trembles when Michael only winds himself tighter around him, warm and suffocating. Adam tries to reason. “You don’t want me anymore.”

Michael’s kiss is rough and bruising possession. Adam whimpers at the fingers that tug in his hair and he’s gasping when Michael finally releases his mouth, teeth tugging at his lower lip.

“Did you tell them you’re mine?” Michael demands again, and Adam looks down when he realises Michael’s hands are working Adam’s pants open.

Adam shakes his head. No, this isn’t – Michael doesn’t –

“But you don’t want me.” Adam doesn’t understand. He just wants to understand.

He doesn’t fight when Michael kisses him again, a gesture that feels like it’s designed to make him shut up. Adam opens to it, though he feels like he’s standing on quicksand and his heart hammers with the knowledge that he’s sinking, but then Michael’s hands steady him on his hips, and the kiss tilts from a violent domination into something halting and curious.

One of the drawers opens and shuts beside them and Adam holds on with arms wrapped around Michael’s neck as slicked fingers work between his thighs.

He groans when Michael breaches him and hides his face in Michael’s neck.

“You can tell me,” he pants and tries to relax, spreading his legs further when another of Michael’s fingers circles his rim, “I’ve known for a while. Just be straight with me or I can’t promise I won’t hate you.”

Michael steps back far enough to look into his face and Adam thinks he looks surprised. If his focus wasn’t clouded with sensation of the burn and sweet ache sending shivers up his spine, he might have even guessed that Michael’s expression was hurt.

“You don’t hate me, Adam.” Michael states it like it’s a fact Adam might have forgotten in his recent hell, but it hovers in doubt at the end.

“God.” Adam laughs wetly, catching on the sob that rises too fast for him to swallow. “I think I do.”

Michael’s expression twists and Adam goes weak when his fingers withdraw. Michael catches him before his knees crumble, and holds him bodily against the counter, chest-to-chest.

“No, you don’t.” There’s a strangled quality to Michael’s voice and Adam wonders if Michael is trying to convince Adam or himself. “You don’t hate me, Adam. You don’t hate me. You don’t hate me.”

Adam’s senses are overwhelmed by the lingering traces of Michael’s cologne and sweat when Michael buries his face in Adam’s neck; scents that he had almost forgotten. Adam laughs, but he still tilts his hips up when Michael’s hands slide down to massage and part his cheeks.

“I hate you so much.”

“No, you don’t.”
From: [identity profile]
Adam cries out when Michael rocks into him, legs around Michael’s waist, and Michael’s hands hold him open until he’s in to the hilt, balls flush, and every brush of Adam’s cock against the hard planes of Michael’s stomach makes him jerk and shiver, tilting closer.

A mutual reprieve settles as they get their bearings, harsh breaths shattering the calm of the afternoon sun.

Michael kisses Adam’s face, his cheeks, and Adam realises that Michael is chasing his tears.

He’s not sure when that happened.

Adam braces himself with hands behind him on the counter top when Michael withdraws to thrust back in. Adam bears down tight, greedily soaking in the want Michael groans into his mouth. It aches once Michael finds his rhythm, the burn slowly easing from pain towards the blur of lust, striking a match that makes his heart almost skip a beat when Michael adjusts his angle. He watches Adam’s face to make sure every push leaves him wincing with the burst of heat that melts his spine into a permanent arch.

“I hate you,” Adam moans when Michael sucks hard at the raw, reddened skin around his throat.

Michael raises his head, and this time, Adam is the one who initiates the kiss before Michael can reply, but it’s forceful and angry.

“You’re mine,” Michael promises, when he pulls back, fingertips light beneath the mark of Lucifer’s chokehold, and his other hand finally wraps around Adam’s cock, “Nothing will ever change that.”

Adam is already shaking his head.

“You hate me,” he spits.

Michael shakes his head, too, and grinds his hips forward, dragging the circle of his fingers from the base of Adam’s cock to the weeping head. Adam’s eyes slide shut against his will, his head falls back and he lets Michael push and pull his body towards completion as he’s done so many times before.

“I love you,” Michael says, startling Adam back to reality.

No, no, don’t say that….

Michael tells him again and again with every roll of his hips and Adam can only brace himself to take it until he’s stiffening and spilling over between them with a gasp of relief. In that blissful moment, when all noise fades to a static whine, Adam doesn’t have to hear Michael’s lie. It passes too soon.

Michael eases him to sit on the counter, hugged against his chest, and he presses his mouth to Adam’s temple.

“I love you,” Michael swears, like the oath it’s supposed to be.

No, Adam admits to himself, I don’t think you do.