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Adrian was always so meticulous about what he put into his body. He consumed precisely titrated doses of caffiene, nicotine and L-theanine at specific intervals, drank non-alcoholic wine with dinner, and consumed hashish exactly once per year.
He needed to be in control, always. But one cannot always control when one loses control.
He had barely touched the small, apparently well-sealed and unbroken bag of powder. He was wearing gloves, he didn't even hold it up to his face to examine it, yet here he was, under the influence of whatever it was (he made a mental note to test both his gloves and his blood, later).
The effects were localized at first. Sneezing, coughing, hives. He was not convinced they would remain that way.
He was lucky that he was with Daniel. Daniel was not the most skilled fighter on the team, nor the best detective, nor the greatest strategist, but he was dependable and ever-loyal (and rather handy with gadgets, for whatever that was worth now).
Daniel, who was not affected as far as either of them could tell, took him back to his own home-not to the basement full of gadgets and schematics, but upstairs, to his living area.
Adrian was grateful to be somewhere safe and warm with someone who was looking out for him, but he was impolite demanding water, and couldn't help blurting out an unflattering comment about the tacky decor and the ugly color scheme. He realized that he was becoming disinhibited-and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.
(There was a little part of his brain that he'd taken great pains to wall off, in the event of catastrophe, so he wasn't too concerned about blurting out a particular secret. In any event, the evening didn't seem to be going in that direction.)
Daniel was accommodating and gracious. He averted his eyes when Adrian removed his cowl, if only as a formality. He held his tongue when Adrian made brusque comments about Rorschach, and when he told off-color jokes.
He did, however, become rather embarrassed when Adrian removed his clothing. Daniel, too, had removed his head coverings (being in his own home with no need of concealing his identity) and Adrian could see the full extent of his blushing. He found it rather charming.
Poor Daniel was trying to avert his gaze, but seemed unable to. Adrian read his lips as he muttered under his breath about the size of it and fumbled with his glasses.
Adrian was sprawled out on the couch, touching himself-not frantically as he would if he were dosed with an aphrodisiac, but languidly and sensually.
Daniel had not left. His discomfort was obvious, but his gaze remained fixed.
And Adrian would not have had it any other way. He didn't need Daniel to touch him. He preferred it this way, watching his friend grow more and more flustered, yet transfixed, as if he were the one who'd been dosed.
He leaned forward, then inched closer, and closer. Adrian, too, was getting closer, and closer, so to speak.
Daniel did have beautiful lips, Adrian realized. It would have been nice to feel them wrapped around the head of his cock as he jerked himself off. Never mind, there would be time for that later.
With that thought, he came, and Daniel, who should have pulled away, instead inched closer still, taking Adrian's huge load of come all over his blushing face, and his glasses, and his beautiful lips, which had on them now a look not of shock, but satisfaction.