After Midnight - IN THE PROCESS OF BEING EDITED
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
14
Views:
15,549
Reviews:
109
Recommended:
2
Currently Reading:
2
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
14
Views:
15,549
Reviews:
109
Recommended:
2
Currently Reading:
2
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. Visit us at our site www.aisylum.com
Chapter 3
Chapter Three
When Gordon limped back into the main, well, the only room of his apartment, he noticed that Mr. Greek had switched from his station by the window to the red couch. Maybe it was a sign of his agitation and impatience or maybe Gordon had just been in the bathroom for a phenomenally long amount of time. Either was possible.
He kept his eyes on Mr. Greek as he slowly made his way to the refrigerator. Every step hurt but not as badly as it had before he'd popped a few caps. Now the pain was like a dim burning sensation that should have bothered him more than it did. Like athlete's foot or something.
There wasn't much of anything in the refrigerator except for beer, soda and left over takeout. He wasn't much for cooking unless it meant Carla was doing it and he was looking on. In the end, Gordon grabbed a can of soda and shut the door.
He stood there for a moment, unsure of what he should be doing. He'd never been a kidnap victim or hostage before so he was a little fuzzy on the etiquette. He didn't want to do anything to tick Mr. Greek off but then again, Mr. Greek had settled into an eerie silence as his black eyes followed every move Gordon made.
Gordon limped his way over to the red couch and sat at the farthest end possible from Mr. Greek. The bed was an unwelcome sight at this point.
He stole a look at Mr. Greek. The man was sitting ramrod straight, his phone in one hand. He had stopped staring at Gordon and was now glaring at the wall. He looked all kinds of irritated and sullen and would be just cute enough to fuck stupid if he wasn't debating ending Gordon's unfortunately short life.
"Why'd you uncuff me?"
"The circulation in your hands cut off when you slumped forward in sleep."
A pause.
"Why were you over there checking on my circulation?"
"You likely have a concussion. I was seeing if you had died."
A longer pause.
"I guess that would have made this a lot more convenient for you."
Silence.
Gordon took another sip of his soda and reveled in how calm he felt. Clearly popping caps in situations like this was the way to go. He was noticing all kinds of things that his previously panicked brain had missed out on.
Like for instance, Mr. Greek had two scars on his face. From a distance, his wax-like complexion had seemed flawless but there was a very fine sliver of a scar on his cheek and another near his lower lip. They made him look dangerous but not as impervious as he had before. Gordon idly wondered how they'd gotten there- what kind of person had been skilled enough to get so close to Mr. Greek and cause lasting scars.
One thing was certain- there was a lot more out there than Gordon had ever known about. For nine years he'd fooled himself into thinking that he, Carla and Chance ran the streets. He had fooled himself into thinking that they were kind of untouchable. Now he was seeing how wrong he'd been. There was scary shit out there and scary people. It was more alarming that these people apparently existed invisibly among them, doing covert things that none of them likely ever found out about.
He took another sip and sat back against the couch, his gaze sliding down the other man's body discreetly.
Mr. Greek was looking very high strung. His posture was stiff, his body unnaturally still. His long white fingers, that Gordon noticed were callused and scarred in some places, were balled into loose fists.
"Have you done this type of thing before?" Gordon asked in an idly curious voice, as if he found himself in these sorts of conversations often.
Mr. Greek looked over at him. "Have I ever held a random civilian against their will before?"
"Yeah, that."
"No. Never." Mr. Greek's lips turned down again.
"Is that why you're so... conflicted? Or whatever?"
"Yes. Harming a civilian isn't high on my list of aspirations."
Gordon nodded, turning slightly on the couch so that he could observe the other man openly. He found those intense black eyes fixed on him. It was unnerving and in his normal state,
Gordon probably would have started squirming self-consciously under such a steady stare. But now he just returned it coolly, not feeling at all uncomfortable when their eyes stayed locked.
"So I take it that someone else is pulling your strings. Yeah?"
"Yes." The word didn't come out grudgingly or bitterly. It seemed that the man had accepted his life and however it was run.
"And those people would demand you kill me because I could blow your cover?"
"Yes."
"And they'd get you in a shit ton of trouble if you don't because there's this loose end blowing in the wind. Right?"
"Yes. More trouble than you're likely thinking."
Gordon digested that for a moment, studying Mr. Greek's non-expression. His jaw had tightened at those words though.
"So, they'd kill you then. For fucking their shit up."
"Yes."
"Ah."
Well, shit. That was bad news.
Gordon finished his soda and set the can down on the end table next to the couch. His mind moved analytically and languidly. He didn't feel the panicked rush that he'd felt earlier but he still recognized a real problem with his plan. How could he guilt Mr. Greek into basically giving up his own life?
"This sucks."
Mr. Greek nodded. "I do apologize for involving you. I'd barely eluded capture when I ducked into the building behind a group of people. It was too risky to try to subdue all of them or to simply burst into an apartment without knowing who was inside. I hadn't even known what I was going to do until I saw you come in alone. I'd been panicking at the time."
"Funny. You looked pretty calm as you tore my ass up and dragged me up the stairs."
The comment earned Gordon a level stare and an unimpressed frown.
"The city police are combing this specific neighborhood for me. They tracked me here after I became separated from my—from others. If they bring me in to the station and the media gets involved, can you imagine what would happen to me?"
Gordon thought about that and raised his eyebrows a bit. "Well yeah, if they'd kill your ass over some dumb ginger kid seeing your face, I can imagine they'd assfuck you dry and then kill you if your mug got splashed all over the TV."
Once again, the comment earned him a long considering stare. "You have an awful way of speaking."
"Yeah, well. What can I say?" Gordon sat back on the couch and rested his head against the top, turning his face to look at his captor again. "I've been on my own since I was, like, nine. Didn't you read my file?"
Mr. Greek grimaced. He looked like he was really regretting all of his 'noted civilian' bragging. The cat was already out of the bag though because he responded to the question. "Not everyone has a complete history attached. Most noted civilians, unless really directly involved with certain activities, have a stub until more information is necessary. It does not inform me about your history before you became involved with Damian Perry."
A light bulb went off in Gordon's head. He gave Mr. Greek a sly look and a half-smile. "I bet there's a whole big file on him, right?"
"Yes."
"Can I see it?"
Mr. Greek glared at him incredulously. "No."
Gordon wasn't particularly surprised but it still kind of sucked. It would have been nice to have some inside information on Chance if he ever got out of this alive. Chance was so arrogant and such an asshole. He always thought he had shit on people, which he usually did. But all Gordon knew about his boss was that he was fine as fuck, unbearably heterosexual, a CEO of illegal arts in the city and obsessively in lust with Carla.
Gordon and Mr. Greek settled back into a far less uncomfortable silence. They looked at each other often, both considering the other and likely wondering what was going to happen at the end of the night. Mr. Greek still gave no indication of how long was left but considering the fact that patrol cars rumbled down the street every fifteen or twenty minutes with their lights flashing or sirens blipping when they stopped someone, Gordon could only assume it would be a while longer.
Apparently covert cover ups still required bureaucratic process.
Mr. Greek picked up the remote control and pointed it at the TV. It occurred to Gordon far too late to stop the man from doing that. It likely would have saved him a lot of embarrassment. But he was starting to buzz stronger on the PD and the embarrassment was pretty fleeting.
The 42" flat screen television that sat on the long chest of drawers flared to life. An image filled the screen--accompanied by very loud audio--that would likely have given a normal person quite a start.
It was a home movie starring Carla and Gordon. They were naked, high and fucking pretty violently on a super king sized bed. Carla was sitting on Gordon's lap facing him, her arms thrown backwards and braced against the sheets as Gordon slammed up into her body.
Carla's throaty voice was groaning erotically, the sound vibrating off the walls.
"Well then," Gordon said with a quiet cough into his hand. "Well."
"I thought you were gay," was all Mr. Greek had to say about it. He didn't seem very shocked or mortified by the video. The only indication that he was watching pornography was that his black eyes were focused on Carla's breasts.
For some reason, that annoyed Gordon. Stupid self-esteem. Always getting uptight when he wasn't the most focused on thing in the room. Probably because with a group full of gorgeous friends, he never was.
"I am," Gordon replied flatly, watching himself screw Carla silly on the screen.
As if on cue, Mr. Greek fast forwarded some until the scene switched entirely. Now it was Gordon and Marquis on the bed. Marquis looked fucking amazing as usual. His leanly muscled body was as smooth and flawless as his cascading waves of golden hair. It was completely unfair that all of Gordon's friends would probably make a list of the top most beautiful people in the country.
Marquis was sitting up on his knees, hunched forward slightly with his back and ass pinned against Gordon, who was behind him. Marquis' perfect body rocked violently with each thrust of Gordon's cock and he was moaning like the sexiest slut to ever grace an amateur porn flick.
The sound of beautiful, golden, blond Marquis moaning his name with genuine dripping desire was enough to make Gordon want to come in his pants as he watched the scene play out. That was actually why the disc was still in the TV. He watched this when he was bored and horny and needed good jerk-off material.
He swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the stirrings of arousal. If he got horny now, it would be a disaster. The PD would just make it worse. He'd end up choking his cock with his captor sitting right there.
Gordon snuck a glance at Mr. Greek and saw that the other man was watching the scene impassively. There was absolutely nothing in his expression about whatever he was thinking, which was annoying.
Although Gordon couldn't help but notice that this time, Mr. Greek didn't fast forward through the scene. He looked quite composed as he watched Gordon rail Marquis thoroughly. He didn't blink twice when screen-Gordon snaked one hand around Marquis' hip and began pumping his erect dick.
An average hetero guy would have shut it off long ago. Maybe Mr. Greek liked what he saw. Or maybe he'd seen so much shit in his career of doing whatever the hell it was that he did, that nothing bothered him anymore. Gordon thought the latter was a lot more likely.
"Anyway, Chance has a pornography thing going. Me, Carla and my friend Marq-"
"Marquis Delahunt," Mr. Greek supplied calmly, his eyes still on the television. He was watching calmly, as if he was some super, serious gay porn critic
"Yeah, him." Gordon rolled his eyes. Another reason why he hated Type A people. They always had to make sure that you knew they knew shit before you actually told them.
"He has us do videos for it sometimes. It's cheaper than getting outside people and we've all fucked each other at one point or another anyway. When me and Carla get really high and bored, we've been known to screw around. I'm gay but when I'm high, I'd probably fuck just about anyone who can get my dick hard."
Mr. Greek looked at him finally. "You're high now."
Gordon opened his mouth to deny it but obviously Mr. Greek could tell. His face likely had more color in it- his pupils more dilated. A trained eye could tell, even though Pandora didn't make people all obviously fucked up and sloppy like other drugs. Another major indicator that he'd altered himself somehow was probably the fact that he was Mr. Confidence and Unconcerned now. It was likely a big change from the crying mess he'd been before.
"I am. I popped a few- for the pain. They were really low dosage though. Not even a gram combined. I won't get too messed up. It just simmers me down a lot, you know?"
Mr. Greek continued to look at him for a long moment. Gordon thought this moment was somehow significant but he didn't know why and the other man wasn't giving shit away with his gorgeously stoic face.
"You would fuck me if I told you to. If I said I'd let you go in exchange."
"Probably," Gordon said bluntly, seeing no reason to hide that fact.
He didn't feel flattered at all by the fact that Mr. Greek had even suggested the possibility of them having sex. It was so far gone from the realm of possible reality that even Gordon couldn't delude himself into believing the other man was doing anything more than making a point. Gorgeous mysterious men didn't want guys like Gordon. They weren't interested in pale, skinny, red haired men who had very little skill at anything in life other than witty retorts and drug deals. Hell, the only reason Marquis even pretended to like him probably had more to do with the free drugs he scored than Gordon himself.
"I'd probably fuck you anyway. This video is kind of giving me a woody. I wish you'd shut it off."
The television instantly went black. Mr. Greek set the remote down on the arm of the couch.
"You're too free with your body."
"Oh please," Gordon scoffed, rolling his eyes and relaxing against the couch once again. He could feel the delightful golden rush of arousal still sloshing around inside of him. Focusing on his current situation would help it go away now that the source of stimulation had gone. Or so he hoped.
"You fuck your friends, for money."
"For fun," Gordon corrected. "And me and Marquis used to be a thing."
"He seemed quite enthralled by you."
"Maybe because he had seven inches of Gordon deep in his ass?"
Mr. Greek was silent for a moment and Gordon looked over at him again. The man was gracing him with that same considering stare.
"It was the way you kissed each other, actually. Even as you watched it, I observed your expression. You weren't just watching yourself fuck him. You were looking at his face most of the time."
Gordon opened his mouth to deny it but stopped himself. It was probably true. He was still pathetically infatuated with stupid fucking Marquis. Marquis who had been fucking like twelve million people during their brief disastrous attempt at a relationship.
"Yeah, well. Whatever."
It occurred distantly to Gordon that this information could definitely be used against him. He could be endangering both Carla and Marquis by talking about his attachments to them.
"And you said you would fuck the man who assaulted you, kidnapped you and took over your home," Mr. Greek reminded him.
"Well, I guess I'm just your average PD influenced skeevy horndog. The morality ship sailed a couple of decades ago, bro. Excuse me if I'm not exactly weeping over the loss of my chastity."
There was another brief silence as they looked at each other. Mr. Greek was starting to look outright intrigued.
"Fill me in on the missing portion of your file."
"Why?" Gordon asked blandly, raising his eyebrows. It only now occurred to him that it was a very good sign that Mr. Greek was asking him questions seemingly without hesitation. He'd gone from wanting to dehumanize his victim to wanting to understand him.
"I'm curious about how you became who you are. You mentioned PS 111. That was considered one of the biggest tragedies of the City during the war."
Gordon shrugged. "I'll talk about it. If... you tell me what I can call you. I've been mentally referring to you as something ridiculous."
Mr. Greek's eyebrows rose a notch. "Does it have something to do with Japanese animation or Greek mythology?"
"...Maybe."
There was a very long stretch of silence this time but Mr. Greek never took his eyes off Gordon. He seemed to be weighing his options. The paranoia versus not getting to know what he wanted to know. And Gordon got the feeling that Mr. Greek wasn't the type of person who was used to being kept in the dark.
"You can call me Adam."
Gordon narrowed his eyes. "Is that really your name?"
"Yes."
"It's so ordinary."
"That's why I told you," Adam replied acridly, black eyes narrowing at Gordon. "There are thousands of Adams registered here."
The comment made another light bulb go off in Gordon's head. He realized that Adam definitely lived in Lexington if he was on the registration. He stored the information away lazily; he'd think more about it later. The PD was making him languid.
"Okay. Adam." Gordon flashed a slight grin at the other man. "What do you want to know?"
"How did you survive at PS 111? The school was demolished."
"I was cushioned by the dead bodies of my classmates," Gordon replied calmly. "I was the only person who lived for more than a day afterwards."
Adam gave him another one of those intrusive black stares. "Why were you on the street from age—nine, I believe you said. Did your parents perish in the attacks?"
"Nah, they'd died before the war got bad. My dad had AIDS and my mom got killed in a mugging. Me and my sister got separated after that. Sent to different group homes. I was in a home when the attacks started."
Gordon absently ran a hand through his hair, glad that he was high. Glad that the sadness and heaviness that always came with this conversation were conspicuously absent. He never talked about his family.
"Do you know your sister?"
"Yeah, but we don't speak."
"Does she know what you do?"
Gordon focused on Adam again, hazel eyes narrowing slightly. "Yeah, she does. And guess what? Her opinion of me is a lot like yours. Which is pretty amazing considering you're some kind of secret killer and she's a mercenary. Really noble positions in life you both have," he replied in the same chill manner.
It was so much easier to appear cool and unaffected now. It was the kind of attitude he wished he could adopt on a regular basis but he always got too riled up, too fast.
"So what about your family?" Gordon asked, gazing into Adam's chiseled face. "They know about you?"
"No. If they did, they'd die," Adam replied bluntly. He turned away, a fleeting look of displeasure on his face at the direction the conversation had turned. "I hadn't spoken to them in years prior to my involvement, anyway. We've been dead to each other for quite some time."
Interesting. It seemed that Adam had some family drama of his own. Before he could pursue that revelation, someone banged on the door.
Adam jumped up, his gun appearing in his hand from God knew where. His body automatically tensed into a half fighting stance and his fathomless eyes flicked to Gordon. Gone was the intrigued, curious expression. He'd returned to the guarded, suspicious and highly paranoid mode. And he was ready to kill if needed, Gordon judged by the way the gun turned on him.
He looked at it and then looked at Adam. He didn't entirely know what to do but at least he wasn't freaking out about it.
"Who is it?" Adam hissed at him in an undertone.
"Fuck if I know."
Whoever it was, began banging again. Gordon belatedly realized that this could be his chance. He could dive for the door, swing it open and—llikely get whoever it was and himself shot. Well. Maybe not so good of a plan after all.
"The closet has a false back. Squeeze into the space behind it," Gordon muttered as he climbed to his feet. He felt pretty proud of the fact that he was still feeling calm while Adam's eyes snapped around the apartment like an animal trying to find a way out of a trap. As soon as his eyes fell on the door, Adam slipped in and closed it silently. Whatever he moved around inside was done equally silently. Within seconds it seemed as though no one had ever been in the apartment at all with Gordon.
He limped over to the door and peered through the peephole. This time, Pandora or no Pandora, his heart actually dropped.
It was Chance. And he was alone. He also looked furious.
Gordon licked his lips and opened the door slowly.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Chance snarled, shoving Gordon out of the way and barging inside. "I've been calling you since Carla got back from the Beach."
Gordon stared at his boss and faltered. He hadn't exactly come up with an explanation for that yet. Luckily, Chance ranted on before he had to offer one.
"And what the fuck happened to your face?"
Eureka. An idea formed quickly. Thankfully Chance had brought up the colossal bruise- Gordon had actually forgotten about his head injury. Maybe doing PD with a concussion was a bad thing.
"Some dude tried to mug me when I came in. He was hanging out by the door in the alley. It was a pretty epic fight."
"It looks like you lost epically," Chance sneered. He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at Gordon as if he were willing him to keel over and die. He also managed to look really hot while doing it. Chance had a combination of thick black hair, olive skin and light eyes that was all exotic and sexy. His high, model-like cheekbones helped a little too.
Gordon shrugged, running a hand through his red hair. The lies were coming easily now and were absent of the stammering and shifty eyes he always had when he had to make an excuse to Chance. "Well, Madrix showed up and dragged him off. I slammed my head against the stairs when we fought and passed out when I came up here. I probably have a concussion or something. You're lucky I'm awake at all now."
"I'd be lucky if I found a dealer who was actually worth shit in a fight," Chance retorted, looking at Gordon like he wouldn't mind taking a shot himself. "I don't give a shit about your sorry ass excuses. We have a situation, G, and then you disappeared off the face of the earth. I keep thinking one day you'll become more reliable but I'm apparently reaching for the fucking stars with that hope."
Gordon's lips drew down into a scowl but he didn't say anything. What was there to say? He had no real defense. He couldn't tell Chance, "By the way, my real attacker is hiding in my closet with a huge gun. Ask him why I didn't get to call!"
Despite Gordon's previous confidence that Chance could destroy Adam in a fight, in reality he didn't know if that was actually the case. When he really thought about it, he realized he'd never even seen Chance fight someone by himself. He always had a few enforcers on hand. Usually Carla was ripping into his opponent before Chance even had to lift a hand.
"Why are you here by yourself, anyways?" Gordon asked seemingly randomly.
"Because we have a situation that people outside our little trio don't need to know about," Chance snapped, as if this should be incredibly obvious to someone who was high and suffering from a concussion. "Someone set us up, fucktard. It could be anyone we associate with. Anyone close to us. Not many people knew about that deal."
It was pretty ridiculous that Gordon was becoming increasingly embarrassed that Adam was listening to every word of the conversation. After all of his bragging about Chance and his awesomeness, Adam was getting a real earful of the real extent of their relationship.
In reality and outside of name dropping tough talk- Chance didn't actually like him at all. He considered Gordon a fuckup and a spaz. A good dealer because he was a good talker and good at connecting with people but worthless in every other capacity. He pissed Chance off in every possible way. It irritated Chance that his style was so noticeable. It irritated Chance that he always had a smart ass comment. It irritated Chance that his sister was a nosy merc. And it even irritated Chance that Gordon was gay. Fuck, it probably irritated Chance that he had an obsessive fear of getting cancer but that was a whole other bag of chips.
Gordon also noted that a part of him didn't really want Chance to find Adam. Somehow, in his fucked up brain, he would prefer to handle the situation himself. He didn't want Chance having something else to hold over his head. And even stranger, the possibility of Adam potentially getting downed by a bully like Chance just seemed... wrong and unnatural. Although, Gordon highly doubted it would play out that way anyway.
Gordon also noted after all of these other realizations, that he was an idiot. Pride and whimsical fantasies about someone who wanted to kill him--okay maybe not wanted, but who was obligated to kill him--was apparently more important at the moment than trying to save his own ass. Although once again he reminded himself that it was highly unlikely that Chance would even stand a chance against Adam so his stupidity didn't really matter.
"Where's Carla now?"
"With Marquis."
Gordon froze. He stared at Chance blankly, dread managing to seep into the golden waves of his high. The warmth still surrounded him but it was shot through by icy threads of fear.
"She didn't hurt him, did she?"
Gordon hadn't known the question would be so wrath inducing. But before he knew it, Chance's fist was slamming into his face right before Gordon landed on his back. Blood erupted out of his mouth as his teeth simultaneously cut into the inside of his cheek, while Chance's knuckles busted his lip open.
The pain was distant- removed, but the blood was very real. For a moment all Gordon could do was crouch on the carpet and touch his bloody mouth in awe. It wasn't the first time Chance had struck him but it was the first time he'd done so over such an innocuous question.
"Grab your fucking dick and get a hold of yourself," Chance snarled, completely unrepentant for his attack. He grabbed Gordon's shirt and hauled him up, shoving him against the wall with so much force that the shelves next to them shook.
"I'm sick of you and your fucking obsession with that faggot. His contacts were fucking feds, you idiot!" He roared furiously, screaming into Gordon's bloody face. "You and Carla could have been put in jail and I have my doubts about how much it would take to get you to give my fucking name up."
"That's bullshit," Gordon replied flatly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He felt calm despite the assault on him. The second one that night.
"Why don't you grab hold of your own fucking dick?" he countered, staring into Chance's green eyes.
He usually backed down from his boss but now he felt like he could talk shit and get away with it. Now the combination of getting beaten up twice and the humiliation of Adam overhearing this embarrassing display was making him stupidly brave. Or maybe that was the drugs. It was hard to tell what was natural and what wasn't anymore. The languidness was starting to make him not care about the repercussions from what he did at all.
"This ain't the first time feds have gone after you. You're just all bent out of shape because Carla was there and you think with your cock when she's involved. So get off my fucking nutsack. I spotted the feds, I made the call to cancel the deal and I made the call to get the hell out of Dodge. Don't come in here trying to blame me for something that I helped smooth over."
Chance looked so taken aback by the response that Gordon could have laughed. Those light eyes blinked slowly and the kissable lips moved although sounds didn't come out. He was so used to Gordon being his submissive, whipping boy that he was apparently shocked into silence.
The best part was that Chance couldn't say it wasn't true. He was trying to take something out on Gordon that Gordon had actually done a good job on. Chance was trying to blame him for something that couldn't possibly be his fault. As usual, Chance was in bully mode. Stupid jackass.
"If you don't mind," Gordon went on with the same uncharacteristic confident coolness. "It'd be great if you left me alone for now. I feel like shit, even worse now thanks, and I don't have anything else to tell you. Call me when you have something for me to do."
Chance's mouth worked for another second before he released Gordon with a grunt. "Fine. But you better answer your fucking phone next time."
Gordon fought the urge to comment on how lame of a parting shot that actually was and watched silently as Chance strode out of his apartment. He remained standing against the wall for a moment before slumping down and making his way across the room. Sitting down on the sofa, he stretched out and closed his eyes, allowing his body to relax completely.
He idly wondered how he would be reacting normally. Probably at this point he would be overcome with frustration and impotent anger. Normally he would have never mouthed off that badly to Chance. Normally he was scared of Chance.
But right now he was riding the golden wave of Pandora's calmness, and he couldn't be bothered to be scared of anything at all. He couldn't feel the pain that should be radiating from his face and mouth. He couldn't even be concerned about the low ringing that was emanating from the other side of the room.
A ringtone that wasn't his, was coming from a cell phone that wasn't his. He felt so high and resigned and unconcerned with continuously fighting against the inevitable shittiness and un-coolness of his life, that at the moment he didn't give a shit that it was probably Adam's people telling him that everything was good to go.
It was then that he realized, it'd probably been a bad idea to get high.
Adam's feet weren't making any noise on the floor but Gordon could feel his presence coming closer. Even so, he didn't open his eyes. He didn't tense up. He didn't get worried about what was happening as the other man stopped just next to him. He didn't even react when he felt something cold and hard gently sliding against his cheek, running down the side of it and rubbing against his busted lip.
"You should stop taking Pandora," Adam said quietly.
Gordon finally opened his eyes and gazed up at his captor. The gun was still trained on him, still brushing against his mouth. Adam's face was impossible to read, his eyes slightly narrowed and pensive.
"What does it matter?" Gordon asked with a wan smile. He was glad that in his last few moments, he wouldn't be frightened and crying. "It makes me feel better. More in control. Even now, I don't feel scared looking at your gun. That's something else, right?"
Adam tilted his head to the side, thick black hair rustling slightly against his porcelain features as he gazed at Gordon. "Pandora mutes your feelings. It makes you detached, apathetic. The purpose is to lower your inhibitions- to make you not care about the consequences of what you do."
"Yes," Gordon agreed. That was why he liked it.
"That," Adam continued softly, "Is a bad thing."
Gordon's train of thought stopped in its tracks. He looked at Adam incredulously, becoming accustomed to the feel of the gun against his face. It was sliding lower now, tracing his neck and collarbone like a lover's caress. It was starting to turn him on.
He licked his lips and shifted on the couch, Adam's onyx eyes magnetic and sucking him in.
"Before you took it, you were frightened and anxious but those feelings are not bad. They're survival instincts- they're what keep us humans alive and alert. The Pandora muted those feelings and in turn, muted your fight for survival. It made you not care about this situation just like it makes you not care about who uses your body. It halted your attempts to win me over. It allowed you to stupidly provoke Perry when he had already shown ruthlessness towards you. It makes you self-destructive because you don't care about the outcome of what you do."
Gordon closed his eyes briefly, trying to fight the undeniable attraction he felt to a man who was holding a gun on him. But he couldn't help it at the moment. Probably for the same reasons that Adam was currently naming.
"What does it matter to you?" he whispered finally, keeping his eyes closed.
He was waiting. Waiting for the moment when it would be over. And waiting for the moment when all of the fear and overwhelming sense of loss would come flooding back into him now that Adam was finally going to end this. But it didn't.
"Because I feel sorry for you."
Gordon's eyes opened and he stared up at Adam.
"And now I think, it would be impossible for me to kill you." Adam slowly retracted the gun and made it disappear. For a moment he almost looked surprised by his own words and actions, but then the expression faded. One black eyebrow rose and his fuckable mouth twisted into a mockery of a half-smile.
"So take care of yourself, Gordon. You came close to dying. Don't waste the fact that you still have a life."
Gordon started to sit up but Adam pushed him slightly so that he remained prone on the couch.
"Don't look out the window when I leave. Don't mention me to your friends. Not even Carla. And keep in mind that if you fuck me over, I'll fuck you harder in return. I have ways of monitoring you that would make you reel at their invasiveness."
"I-"
Adam put a finger to Gordon's blood stained mouth. "Shut up."
Gordon shut up, his eyes slightly wide and focused on the beautiful man above him. His heart was pounding in his chest at this point and for the first time he wished he wasn't high. He wished that he could make himself react in a more Gordon way. He wanted to say something but at the moment, his brain was too lulled to conjure anything significant.
"Go to sleep. And pretend this was all a dream."
They looked at each other for a long moment and finally Gordon realized what Adam was waiting for. So he closed his eyes and relaxed against the couch.
He focused on everything he felt and everything he could hear- trying to capture this moment. It was significant to him. It was something he'd want to remember for a long time. There was something special about coming so close to death and getting away from it. There was something about it that he knew he'd want to recall when he was sober and looking for a moment in his life when he hadn't been completely fucked.
Gordon didn't know how long he kept his eyes closed. He didn't think it'd been that long. But when he finally opened them again, Adam was gone.