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Adam wasn’t going to make it through this.
He had ‘weak link’ written all over him and had the same smell as a rookie who wasn’t cut out for the gruesome parts of their job. Hoffman had grown a sense of these things, and Adam made it easy for him with the nauseously pale look he wore tonight.
It was Adam’s first task, his night, to prove he would submit to Kramer’s ideology wholly to be reborn into their fucked up little family. Mark had watched Adam subtly clutch his stomach, how beads of sweat dripped down his temple while John tenderly explained his first game. There was powerless fear flickering in Adam’s ocean eyes. Mark felt a twinge of envy and resentment at Adam and his youthful ignorance. Once, killing made him queasy, too. Now, he saw the world for what it was and people as an extension of the filth coating it.
“He’s going to fail you,” Hoffman had whispered to John once Adam had stalked away, limping on his forever-skewed ankle. “You’re making a mistake. He isn’t ready.”
John, forever unimpressed with Hoffman’s suggestions, didn’t even dignify him with eye contact. Even from the comfort of his sickbed, frail and jaundiced, rasping as he spoke, he still looked down on Hoffman. Hoffman hated that more than anything. “I want you to guide him to success.”
Hoffman’s lip twitched, indignation burning in his chest. He opened his mouth, but the retort died to a grating coughing fit that overtook John. Hoffman flinched, trying to dig deep and find sympathy to alleviate the annoyance. He found none. It was harder to find any ounce these days.
“I can’t go myself. I’m trusting you with this.”
“Make Amanda do it,” Hoffman suggested with a bitter snarl. It was a sarcastic proposal; Hoffman didn’t trust Amanda as far as he could throw her. “Since she’s your favorite.”
“No. Amanda can’t. It’s personal for her.” John mused, trailing off, again destroying Hoffman’s patience for John’s holier-than-thou attitude. He would have preferred John at least pretend it’s because he would rather Hoffman take on a pertinent task, but, just like a real deity, John was prone to favoritism. He was sure it was to be his downfall.
“Fine. But if he fucks up-”
“You’ll clean up his mess.”
Hoffman was tired of cleaning up messes.
***
The target for their game was an alcoholic Hoffman recognized from numerous domestic violence disputes. He was a real piece of work, one Hoffman would rather simply disappear altogether, rather than go through some bullshit baptism. But, if he overstepped for every person he thought deserved death, he’d have left many more corpses behind him. More importantly, John would find out, then everything Hoffman worked for was shot. So, he pushed the flashbacks to his personal heartache down deep in his gut and focused on Adam.
His mouth was too big for his body. Hoffman wasn’t sure how Adam survived this long, being in such a precarious line of work-ruining relationships, reputations, and all the stuff that was swift to get your ass kicked with such a loose tongue. The whole ride to their destination, a bar that the person of interest frequented, Adam drolled endlessly about everything and nothing simultaneously. He obnoxiously fiddled with the radio, clicking his tongue at each station.
“The reception on this side of town sucks,” He jeered, finally settling on a station playing industrial-sounding metal that sounded more like rocks being banged together over music. “Oh yeah, there we go.”
Hoffman kept his eyes on the road, following the winding freeway to downtown. Stretches of stars were clouded by pollution more obviously here. He didn’t feel like speaking to Adam; he had nothing to say. Unfortunately, his companion wasn’t the same.
“I always wished I could play music. I tried learning guitar when I was a teen. My buddy learned by listening to Nevermind over and over again till he could play the whole thing from memory. I was like, hey, I could do that. Turns out I’m not Kurt Cobain. Was always better with my camera.” Adam spoke fast. Hoffman could hear the shakiness behind his words, his confidence masking the trembling in his chest. But a quick glance at Adam’s shaking hands told him everything. “You don’t seem like a punk guy.”
“What gave it away?” Hoffman droned, words glazed with unhealthy levels of sarcasm. Instead of taking the non-answer as disinterest, Adam continued.
“Yeah, my parents hated it. They were convinced for a while that I worshiped Satan. They took my vinyls said they were a bad influence. Some of those are probably so valuable now.” Adam fiddled with the volume. Hoffman hadn’t bothered exploring the expansive metal music genre and was now finding it grated his ears unbearably. He slapped Adam’s hand away from the stereo, clicking it off and leaving them in taut silence. Adam shifted uncomfortably beside him.
“So, uh-”
“You don’t have to talk.” Hoffman insisted, cutting short whatever frivolous thing Adam would say to fill the silence. “Sometimes silence is better.”
“You must be the life of the party,” Adam quipped, rapidly switching between nervously drumming on his knees and fiddling with the end of his t-shirt. “Real popular with the ladies, too. Bet they love that asshole attitude.”
“Uh-huh. Bet they love loud-mouthed smart asses too.”
“You’d be surprised.” Adam shot an amused smirk at his own joke. Hoffman hummed in response, glancing over quickly and returning his attention to the road.
Despite the headache he developed listening to his rambling, Adam was a treat aesthetically. His youthful face and body, barely pushing mid-twenties with a stick body and short(ish) stature. It aroused something inside Hoffman. Adam would be so easy to bend and break, like a bird without wings. Exhilarating to imagine how you could break its neck without protest.
But holding it in your hands and imagining how many ways you could destroy it was far more satisfying than its death.
Hoffman was saved from more ramblings about music he didn’t care about when they reached their destination. This was the neglected side of town, dilapidated and dingy and needing a serious look from the local government. The bar wasn’t too dirty. It was a middle-of-the-way establishment, where beer was five bucks, and things were clean enough to pass a health check. There was slight concern he might not fit in, not with a guy half his age in tow-but, then again, this was the kind of place people minded their own damn business. So long as Adam didn’t fuck it up, they would fade into obscurity and finish the job before the sun rose.
Hoffman slid into a bar stool, Adam slipping into the seat beside him, much to his annoyance. “Generally this goes better if we-” he stopped himself, a voice in the back of his head reminding him this was Adam’s task. One he didn’t particularly care if he succeeded or failed.
“Whisky,” he answered the bartender’s patient glare, and she filled a glass generously. He offered a forced smile, nodding, and downed half of it in one swig.
“I.D.?” She asked, not to Hoffman, but directed the inquiry to Adam instead. Hoffman watched Adam fumble his wallet from his jeans, noting the condom in his wallet with amusement. He slid the I.D. towards her. She looked rapidly from his I.D. to his face, back to his I.D., one too many times. Whatever discrepancy warranted the glare, it wasn’t enough to be kicked out. “Whadya want?”
“Just a Mai Tai.”
Hoffman snorted into his glass, polishing off the rest of his bitter drink. It wasn’t good alcohol, and the sourness danced on his tongue uncomfortably.
“What? What. Just cause I’m a dude doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a fruity drink.” He puffed up his chest, sitting straight to appear larger than he was. A pathetic display to salvage masculinity. Hoffman raised an eyebrow at him, shrugging and placing his glass back on the table.
“I never said that,” Hoffman hummed, resting his head on his hand. He skimmed his surroundings, seeing if their target had arrived yet. The Saturday crowd was relatively dense, the hum of various conversations only masked by the kind of trashy punk music Hoffman had just decided he hated ten minutes before. None of the faces matched the pictures in their file, so he returned his eyes toward one of the bar T.V.s. It was a rerun of a Jets game from earlier that year.
“You thought it.” Adam accused, smiling despite the indignant tone of voice. Pretty smile , Hoffman thought to himself. Though Adam would never hear it. “We’re not all big macho men. Hey, look at me; I drink whisky and hate my wife.” Adam mocked, breaking character for just a moment to thank the bartender. “I have to drink horrible trash water excuse for alcohol because I’m a man!”
Hoffman rolled his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. The bartender topped him off, and he downed it in one go to fix the throbbing. Maybe the alcohol would keep him from clocking Adam in the jaw.
“You’re a real charmer, detective,” Adam muttered, sighing. He was tapping his fingers repetitively on the bar, eyes shooting around like a deer that heard a twig snap. A quick glance at Hoffman’s left hand. “That why you’re not married?”
“There’s a lot of reasons for that.”
“Oh yeah?” Adam sipped on his cocktail gingerly between his words. The horribly sick look he had when receiving his task was well hidden beneath the cocky bravado he donned like a second skin. Again, took a certain kind of person to do what he did. “Women not your strong suite?”
He wasn’t leaving this alone. Hoffman recognized what he was doing; he was fishing, trying to dig too deep for a coworker. He inhaled sharply, returning Adam’s gaze with harsh eye contact. He pretended not to notice him subtly licking his lips.
Hoffman had been young once, too. He had been subject to cat and mouse. As much as it stroked his ego to be lured into a game of hormones he no longer was controlled by, he didn’t have much patience to do the song and dance.
“Why? You wanted to shoot a shot?” Hoffman said, voice clear and level as he spoke. Adam didn’t expect it, which is why he said it. He watched as he sputtered, laughing, cheeks flaring pink before he hid his face in his swiftly disappearing Mai Tai.
Got you.
Adam swallowed hard, taking a deep breath between his teeth. The confidence he displayed just a moment before pooled on his brow in the form of sweat. Hoffman just watched, carefully taking in Adam’s demeanor. He slouched heavily, and every few minutes, he would correct his posture just to return to its warped state. He kept glancing back at Hoffman, like a puppy seeking reassurance from its owner as they sat and waited in thick silence. Hoffman intrusively thought Adam would be cute on a leash but pushed it from his brain as fast as it arrived. Maybe later.
“Is it too personal to ask if you-”
Like men? He was sure it was too personal, but he let it slide. “Answer is yes, if you have to know. Has nothing to do with how I do my job.”
“I wasn’t saying-” Adam’s face burnt hot. It was endearing to see him wriggle in distress, giving Hoffman a satisfying sense of control.
Adam didn’t push further, polishing off a second drink and beginning a third. Worst came to worst, they’d skip the joint and survey his address. Hoffman didn’t mind the downtime, but Adam seemed unable to keep still. Hoffman could translate the mercurial motions inside Adam’s brain. Hoffman could smell fear like a hound smelt blood. He was afraid of himself, of what he was doing, that he was capable of this. He had his own metamorphosis, being fearful of the desire to inflict pain, mutating into a passion for pain again and again. You became hungry for it. Adam was a child afraid of his own hunger.
Or maybe Hoffman was projecting. Empathy wasn’t his strong suit.
“He’s not here,” Adam whisper-shouted to Hoffman, eyes darting around at the thinning crowd as closing dawned upon them. He had his fourth drink in hand, and his words were beginning to slow. “Should we go?”
“Your call.”
Hoffman thought it would be nice to take him home, reassure him like a stray to a forgiving hand. Adam wouldn’t last long in this state. He would fail, Hoffman was nearly certain. John was right; he needed a guiding hand. But Hoffman wasn’t sure if John’s would be the right one for Adam.
And, now, he was craving sole leadership for this one.
“Think we should leave,” Adam finally cut through the moment of silence, standing and pushing in his bar stool. Hoffman slipped his wallet from his pocket, paying out their annoyingly large tab. Adam opened his mouth, seeming like he was going to argue against the gesture. He quickly shut it, a blush of indignation lighting up his face. He avoided Hoffman’s eyes, dragging his feet beside him as he left. Not even a thank you. Ass.
Hoffman settled in the driver’s seat, watching Adam struggle to get into the car. He played off his off-balanced stumbling with a scowl, the ‘I can’t be this drunk; it was only a few drinks’ look. He sunk into the passenger seat.
Hoffman turned the key, waiting for the car to warm up before getting back on the road. Adam made a slow grab for the dial, inching closer and closer to turning it like a child sneaking their hand into a candy drawer. He clicked it, and the radio blared some harsh-sounding chords followed by distorted male vocals. Hoffman turned it down to a reasonable level with a slight glare from Adam.
“You can walk there if you’re gonna act like that,” Hoffman threatened with a twinge of genuine annoyance, conveying as much command he could through his tone. Adam’s face relaxed, and then he sat up to seem bigger than he was, like a cat puffing his tail. “Should I just drive you home?”
“I’m fine.”
Hoffman pulled over to the side of the road, stopping the car and leaving it in neutral. He turned to face Adam, grabbing him by the chin and forcing his eyes to meet Hoffman’s. Adam blinked rapidly, breath hitching, alcohol heavy on his breath. Then there was hesitation: maybe he didn’t read Adam right. Adam answered it by quickly leaning into Hoffman, closing the gap between their lips urgently before Hoffman could. Adam, with all the voracity of youth, grabbed at Hoffman’s hair, lapping at his bottom lip like a thirsty dog. Hoffman moaned into Adam’s mouth, pleasantly surprised by his fervency. Nice to be desired.
“This your way of paying me for drinks?” Hoffman muttered, lip wet with Adam’s saliva. He kissed Adam’s jaw, pushing his body against the car door.
“Sure, makes me sound like a prostitute, though,” Adam purred back, pleasantly compressed under Hoffman, making soft, lewd noises as his neck was gnawed at.
“Coulda fooled me,” He shot back, inhaling Adam’s scent. A cologne too expensive for a guy like Adam was faint on his shirt, with overtones of axe body spray, a thick cigarette smell, and slight body odor. “You got a boyfriend I should worry about?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Adam said quickly, doing nothing to deny the accusation. Hoffman couldn’t particularly care less about that either way.
He grunted, trailing a hand between Adam’s legs. Adam squeezed his thighs together reflexively. He tried to say, ‘Wait,’ but it died in his throat when Hoffman pointedly ignored the exclamation to paw at his crotch. He recoiled, momentarily off-put by what he didn’t find. Adam inhaled sharply between his teeth.
“If you don’t wanna keep going, it's fine.” Adam’s voice was quaking with poorly disguised anxiety.
“I don’t care,” Hoffman assured him, though he genuinely meant it. He undid Adam’s belt, pulling down his jeans and tossing them in the back seat. Adam slid his shoes off, taking his sweet time removing his boxers. Hoffman nuzzled his face between Adam’s thighs, pulling his hips up. Adam’s calves crossed Hoffman’s back.
Hoffman was instantly drowned in Adam’s scent. He used two fingers to part the folds of Adam’s sex, one finger stroking his swelling clit. His body flushed in response to the pretty pink visual, the tangy smell, and the vulgar whimpers pouring sonorously from Adam. He ran his tongue over him, from cunt to clit, relishing the sweet-savory aftertaste. His cock throbbed in response, making his pants unbearably tight already. It had been a while since he had a good lay, and he wanted to make it count. Especially since Adam was probably ending up with an F in John’s apprenticeship.
He circled his tongue around Adam’s stiff cock before wrapping his lips around it. Adam entwined his fingers in Hoffman’s hair, tugging and pushing his hips up into him. He was shockingly demanding, pressing so close Hoffman’s nose nestled against pubic bone. His throaty moans were punctuated by the occasional voice break. Hoffman grunted, lips vibrating against Adam’s sex. The urgency was so damn provocative, stroking Hoffman’s ego, making him feel slightly feral, rutting against the car seat.
“Fuck, you’re so good with your tongue,” Adam praised, somewhere between a desperate moan and primal growl. “Any other hidden talents?”
Hoffman let Adam’s cock go with a wet pop, admiring the bit of flesh throbbing in protest at his absence. “Like what? What do you want?” he asked, disinterest leaking through. He wasn’t much of a dirty talker, not for casual lays with guys little more than half his age in his car.
Adam scoffed indignantly like it should have been obvious, slipping from Hoffman’s grasp. He pushed his hand into Hoffman’s chest, urging him to lean back and let Adam take the reigns. He followed his direction, curious, reminding himself he could easily make Adam melt into his grasp if he so chose. Adam unbuckled the clasp of Hoffman’s belt. While making rigid eye contact, he lowered his face, clasping Hoffman’s pants zipper between his teeth and unzipping him tortuously slow. “What do you want, Detective?” He purred words honey-thick and dripping arousal. Hoffman tucked a string of hair behind Adam’s ear.
“Take a wild guess,” Hoffman pulled Adam into his lap, kissing him open-mouthed while grasping his hips firmly. Adam rocked back and forth, perfectly teasing Hoffman’s cock with the warmth of his cunt folds. His painfully erect dick throbbed against his through the fabric of Hoffman’s boxers. Hoffman grabbed an almost handful of ass-the guy hadn’t been blessed with much-and desperately freed his dick from its confines.
Adam kept grinding, biting the bottom of Hoffman’s lips with an excited smirk. “Mmm, nice package,” He licked his teeth, taking Hoffman’s precum-dripping cock and giving it a few dexterous strokes. Hoffman’s face went pink, and he tilted his head back to hide it. The guy was sexy, had a nice lithe body, and was good with hands to top it off. He just wished he’d shut his mouth so he could enjoy it. “You’re so thick.”
Adam slipped onto the car floor, pressing his tongue against the tip of Hoffman’s dick. He licked around his cockhead, pushing it against every textured bit and flicking the back of his tongue against his cock slit. Hoffman groaned, inhaling sharply when Adam wrapped his lips around it. “Good,” he huffed, stroking his hair, returning Adam’s sultry eye contact. “Good boy.”
Adam hummed in response, cheeks hollow as his eyes sought any approval on Hoffman’s face. He grasped at Hoffman’s thighs, doing his best to down as much as he could. He gagged often, throat pulsing against his dick reflexively. His face was rosy, blush painted across his features. A string of saliva dripped from the corner of his lip. His eyes watered from the effort.
Hoffman covered his face, not wanting to show how bad Adam was getting to him. Adam retracted his mouth with a vulgar moan, sliding back into his lap. He leaned into Hoffman, chest to chest, both still clothed and starting to sweat. Grasping Hoffman at his base, he teased the head of his cock with the promise of relief. “You wanna use a condom?”
“I’m clean,” Hoffman muttered, running his hands up Adam’s thighs. “I want you like this.” He pushed his hips up, sliding partway inside Adam, struggling to breach his tight rim. Adam took a deep breath, consideration on his face, before lowering himself down. He forced himself to down the entire length with a wet pop and sultry gasp.
“Just pull out?” Adam suggested, whispery, but Hoffman ignored him. His hot, slick insides squeezed around him perfectly. He was already beginning to roll his hips, leaning back and holding onto Adam by the shoulder and opposite hip. Adam didn’t complain, vocally declaring his approval with resounding groans and pitchy moans. He tried to make squirmy motions but was overpowered by Hoffman’s needy thrusts.
“Fuckin’ hell.” Hoffman groaned, digging his nails into Adam’s shirt and the flesh underneath.
“Yeah? Feel good? You like that, big guy?”
Hoffman, with a flash of hot frustration in his chest, stuck a thumb in Adam’s mouth to quiet him. Adam whimpered with surprise, gagging at the intrusion. He then immediately wrapped his tongue around it, sucking on it like a proper whore. “Just shut up, okay? Be quiet.”
Adam shot him a glare, seething but too brain-dead with arousal to argue with him. He reached down, pinching and stroking his cock while Hoffman fucked him. Adam touching himself, sucking on Hoffman’s thumb like it was covered in syrup, and the pool of Adam’s fluids slicking both Hoffman’s pelvis and glistening in his pubic hair, it was getting to be too much for him. Hoffman reached up Adam’s shirt, dragging nails down Adam’s back. He ran his fingers through Adam’s hair, grabbing a fistful and forcing him in for an awkward kiss. Their teeth slammed together uncomfortably, but it didn’t put a damper on the desperate and ravenous act that felt more like a mauling than a kiss.
Apparently, Adam liked it rough. He let out a shuddering moan, breathing into Hoffman’s mouth with rapid gasps. His dick throbbed, insides pulsating around Hoffman’s cock. “Fuck,” Adam sighed, eyes fluttering shut like he had been factory reset. Hoffman, adjusting his angle and position to save his tiring muscles, continued to fuck him. Adam’s noises were more discomforted, yelpy, like a cat being stepped on. “Please, please…” He almost sounded like he was going to say fucking finish already , but Hoffman was enjoying his sweet pained whimpers even more now.
“You’ll take it,“ Hoffman demanded, face nestling into Adam’s collarbone, inhaling another deep whiff of stale chemical cigarette smoke sticking to his skin. “Be good and take it .”
Adam, biting his lips, squirmed and mewled from the overstimulation. His cunt was still quivering from his orgasm, enhancing each thrust Hoffman slammed into him. He was close, insides tying into uncomfortably torrid knots of pleasure, threatening to come undone.
“Fuuuuuck.“ Hoffman uttered, tongue heavy, grabbing Adam by the waist and thrusting up into him as he finally came. He held Adam’s body down on his hips, cock twitching as he spilled completely inside Adam with satisfying ounces of spite. He threw his head back, taking a deep breath, glowing from the intensity of the orgasm.
“Ah, a guy likes to be warned before you jizz inside him, prick.” Adam seethed, words dripping venom, but he didn’t recoil immediately. He laid on top of Hoffman at an awkward angle, chin resting on Hoffman’s shoulder with a horrible slouch.
“Whoops,” Hoffman said sarcastically, enjoying Adam’s warmth momentarily before urging him back into the passenger’s seat. Adam seemed crushed by the rejection. Hoffman just wasn’t a cuddler. “I’ll get you four drinks to make up for it.“
Adam scoffed, working his pants back over his legs and pulling his shoes back on. “Oh yeah, Romeo? I’m starting to see why you aren’t married.”
“Hope your boyfriend doesn’t mind I used his toy,” Hoffman shot back. Adam turned beet red. “Not the jealous type, is he?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.“ Adam snapped.
“Liar.” Hoffman smirked, starting the car, feeling like he was awarded emotional superiority in this new dynamic. Now, when he drove, Adam kept his eyes down, mouth shut, and hands away from the radio.
Adam wouldn’t last long, but if he was a good dog, Hoffman might help him last longer. Maybe.