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As January turned colder, as did Lawrence. Adam’s boyfriend had never been one for showing love, God no, but he maintained a routine that hadn’t fallen out of whack. Well, until a couple weeks ago.
Adam knew what he was doing, once a voyeurist, always a voyeurist. Plus, the pig mask hung neatly in their closet, a reminder of what he had to fear.
To be perfectly honest, he wasn’t sure why he stayed. Nerves, mostly. Of what would happen if he were to let his distaste for Lawrence’s job slip, the part of him nervous that he’ll wake up in the morning back in that fucking bathroom. The one that he has nightmares about.
Lawrence will slip him shitty sleep pills and let his arms fall loose enough Adam can pry them open to climb into. He feels pathetic. Five months ago he was not this weak, this needy. Then again, five months he hadn’t been trapped in a bathroom for eight hours with the sexiest man he’s ever laid eyes on.
Five months ago he didn't know what a bullet through the shoulder felt like. He didn’t understand what hunger was until he spent a week and a half eating the rotted remains of a man he had killed. Adam five months ago hadn’t gone through any of the shit he had now.
For once in his life, Adam was allowed to feel this hurt. Sort of. Maybe.
The main reason, though, is that Lawrence had adapted Jigsaw’s mindset. He seems to be fixed, stronger, better. Adam’s waiting for that to kick in too.
It angers him, most days. How high and mighty the blond acts. How cheerful and happy he is. He’ll come home from a day of torturing people in the way that keeps him up at night and goes right to cooking Adam dinner and kissing him until he turns blue.
The sound of rustling sheets fills Adam’s ears. Speaking of Lawrence.
“Good morning, Angel.” Lawrence’s voice had gotten scratchier, deeper. The youngest wasn’t sure if it was his age or the trap to blame. Chapstick soft lips pressed against Adam’s razor burn, drifting up towards his own lips. They were dry, bitten. His boyfriend had made comments about it during their entire relationship, but Carmex has never been his favorite taste.
Adam hummed back, hardly acknowledging the kisses. Lawrence trapped his earlobe between his teeth, digging his fingers ever so slightly into Adam’s raised bullet wound.
A whine escapes his lips. Pathetic and opened mouth. Lawrence recognizes the pained whimper of defeat and grits his teeth before letting go of him.
The forced noise of Adam’s voice comes out. Pained and whiny, just like it’s always been. He whispered the one phrase he asked during moments of desperation, especially after nights like these. Lawrence had recognized it as submission. “Are we gonna be okay?” Adam gasped, feeling the cold smirk pressed into his skin grow.
His boyfriend pets his hair, humming in approval. It feels parental. Protective. Lawrence rasps back. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Adam.” The way he says Adam's name makes him squirm. Partially in fear, partially in arousal.
“Am, uh, will- will I be okay?” The boy pushes out. Lawrence’s motions stop. His hand pulls out of the mat of Adam’s hair.
“Why wouldn’t you be?” The eldest chirped. It was a frightening noise. No response came from Adam, paralyzed in fear. Lawrence hadn’t given him much reason to be afraid of him, but a medical professional who’s working for a serial murderer was plenty to fear. “Oh, Adam.” He soothed, the same tone that sent bumps across his skin. “It’ll be okay.”
And with that, Lawrence placed one more kiss atop Adam’s head and bid him farewell. He could only watch as his experted hands steadily placed on his prosthesis and grabbed his clothes from their shared closet, the mask taunting him once more. He looked back, smiled, and was gone the next minute.