An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I have a new chainshipping smut fic up based on this art by the lovely @quinngefail! This is definitely one of my favorite things I've written so far, and I'm really happy with how it turned out! I hope you enjoy :)
Tags include:
Blow Jobs, Rough Oral Sex, Face-Fucking, Sweet Smut, They're so fucking in love, Humiliation Kink, Dry Humping, Leashes, Collars, Begging, Sexual Experimentation, Cock Tease, tease and denial, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Post-Bathroom Trap (Saw), Light Bondage, Valentine's Day, Porn IS the plot, Dom/sub Play, D/s written by someone who's in the lifestyle, Lawrence is mostly the Dominant one here but Adam does get to tease him and make him moan like a bitch too
Summary:
“You, on a leash,” Lawrence trembled, his eyes on the bedspread in front of him, “on your knees looking up at me, hands tied behind your back, where you belong.”
His voice was thick with nerves and lust as he carefully made the confession, side by side with his love in their bed after a particularly intense round of sex.
“And if you’re good,” Lawrence turned to him,
“I’ll give that mouth something to do.”
your hometown skeptics called it 'champagne problems'
ao3 link
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.
Pairing: Adam Faulkner Stanheight x Lawrence Gordon (chainshipping)
Word Count: 2557
Synopsis: Adam’s not the man he wants to be. Lawrence can help with that.
CW: involuntary restraint, forced intoxication, involuntary drug abuse (being drugged), being drunk, forced masculinization, forced ftm transition, medical malpractice, surgery, surgery while being awake, watching your own surgery, dub con ftm top surgery, VERY EXTREMELY DUB CON fingering at the end, finger fucking, canon typical violence, Trans Adam
Notes: Based on this ask. GIF is of Leigh Whannel in Dying Breed (I just love his scared eyes).
“How are you feeling?” Lawrence’s voice is calm, steady. He sounded like a doctor. He could say anything with that voice. He could say anything and Adam would still feel safe. That was the power of that voice, and Lawrence’s was well trained, well used. It’s very effective on Adam, who is already lost in the doctor’s blue eyes and the warm haze of the wine they’ve been sharing. He’s more than a few glasses in.
“Just fine.” Adam smiles. His voice is slurred and full of affection. He takes another sip of wine. “What do you call this again?” He asks, swirling the liquid in his glass.
“Riesling.”
“Right.” Adam nods, he watches Gordon carefully. The doctor seems calm and relaxed. His hands are folded on his knee, he’s sitting slightly forward. Adam chuckles.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” He grins shyly. “You’re just…I don’t know. You just seem very ‘doctor-y’ tonight. Makes me feel like you’re getting ready to do surgery on me or something.”
Lawrence’s eyebrow slides up. “Would you like that?”
“Um…I don’t know.” Adam swallows. “I guess it depends on what kind of surgery.”
Lawrence watches him. Adam tries but fails to read any emotion on his face. He feels nervous, giddy, too drunk to be having this conversation. He worries he might say something embarrassing. He worries he might say what he’s really thinking. Fuck me. Cut me open. Make me new. Rip me to shreds. He swallows and looks away, avoiding Lawrence’s gaze. I should go. He opens his mouth to form the words but Lawrence is faster.
“There’s only a little left. Can I top you off?”
Adam’s brain clings to the wrong words. Can I top you? Yes, please. He chews the inside of his lip.
“Adam?”
He tastes blood. “Yeah.” He nods lazily.
Lawrence smiles. There’s something off about it. Adam struggles to place it. Lawrence takes the glass from his hand, his fingers grazing over Adam’s. Adam’s breath hitches and he looks up at the doctor. Fuck me. Rip me to shreds.
Lawrence hooks his fingers under Adam’s binder, snapping him back to his body. Adam squirms under the touch. His heart races, Lawrence had never done this before. They hadn’t touched at all since the bathroom, not really. It felt like a violation. It made Lawrence too real. He was now composed of flesh and blood and bone and…
“How long have you been wearing this today?”
Adam takes a deep breath. “Um…I’m not sure.”
“If you’re not sure then you’ve had it on too long. How’s your chest feeling? Any difficulty breathing?”
“I thought you were pouring me more wine.” Adam huffs.
Lawrence frowns. “Sure. I’ll be right back.” Lawrence disappears from view.
Adam shudders. He’s surprised Lawrence let it go so easily. He runs his hands over his face and lets out a deep sigh. His ribs creak. I should go.
Lawrence is pressing the glass back into his hands. Now that he was paying attention Adam noticed that Lawrence hadn’t gotten himself more wine. He looks around. There isn’t a glass for Lawrence anywhere. When did he stop drinking? Adam tries to remember if he had seen Lawrence even start drinking.
“Everything okay?” Lawrence has settled back into the chair across from him. He has a concerned expression that makes Adam feel pressured to reassure him.
“I’m fine.” He gulps down the rest of the wine. Lawrence is right, there isn’t much left. It’s bitter and gritty as he swallows. He makes a face, he doesn’t remember it tasting like that before. Adam lifts his fingers to his mouth and scrapes his thumb across his tongue. There’s a fine, powdery residue. When he rolls his thumb and pointer finger together the moist residue bunches up into white granules on his skin. His heart starts to race again. His drunken brain is too slow to put the pieces together.
Lawrence is suddenly behind him. One hand pushes Adam’s shoulder down against the couch, the other tries to pry the glass from Adam’s fingers. Adam fingers grip the stem of glass, his feet try pushing against the floor. He only has strength for one. He hears the glass shatter on the floor next to the couch as he pushes his way out of Lawrence’s grasp. Lawrence catches the back of his jacket and yanks him back into a seated position. He locks his arms around Adam’s neck.
“Shhhh…shhhhh…just let go. Just let go. I’ll make you whole.”
Adam pants, his fingers grip at the edges of the couch. He groans. Rip me to shreds.
“It’s diazepam.”
“What?” Adam’s voice is high, scared.
“It’s a sedative.” Lawrence strokes back Adam’s hair. “It’s not gonna kill you. It provides great skeletal muscle relaxation. That’s why you feel like jelly.”
Adam swallows. His feet scuttle uselessly across the floor.
“I’d really prefer it if you stopped fighting. I’m going to make you whole, but I have to take you apart first.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I’m helping you.” Lawrence coos into Adam’s neck. “I’m giving you a gift.”
Tears well in Adam’s eyes. His thoughts bubble up in the back of his throat. Fuck me. Cut me open. Make me new. Rip me to shreds.
Adam isn’t sure if Lawrence’s whispered response is real or imaginary as he’s dragged into unconsciousness.
I intend to.
Adam stares at himself. His eyes drift over his body, and he’s revulsed. It was so imperfect, so different from the picture he had of himself in his mind. He wants to cover it up. He eyes the red marks across his chest, from wearing his binder too tight and too long. Lawrence’s face comes into view over him. At least, he’s pretty sure it’s Lawrence. A surgical mask covers his face and a cap covers his hair, but Adam would recognize those eyes anywhere. He’s sure it’s Lawrence. He realizes now that he’s not having out of body experience. He’s looking at a mirror.
Looking more carefully now, he sees the straps over his wrists, ankles, and forehead. There’s an oxygen mask over his face. Panic begins to build at the back of his throat, cutting off his breath. He writhes on the surgical bed, pulling at the restraints.
“Shhhh…shhh…none of that.” Lawrence’s tone is gentle. “Come now, none of that.”
Adam tries to scream but the sound is muffled in the mask. Lawrence disappears from view. A short moment later Adam feels a cold sensation wash over his right side, like worms wriggling through his skin. Without his permission his muscles relax and go limp. He desperately tries to force movement into his body, but it doesn’t budge. He can’t move. The image of himself is fixed before his eyes. He can’t look away.
“I’m almost finished getting set up. We’ll get started here soon.”
Adam whimpers.
“Don’t worry. The local anesthetic should be kicking in soon. You won’t feel a thing. I just didn’t want you to miss the most important part.”
Adam watches Lawrence spread a thick blanket over his lower half before he disappears from view again. He returns with a small metal dish of liquid. With gloved fingers Lawrence starts scrubbing the skin of Adam’s chest.
Lawrence is right. Adam can’t feel the cold scrub. He tracks Lawrence’s movements in the mirror.
“You’ll have two large incisions.” Lawrence starts to explain. “I’m trying to preserve as much…sensation as possible but the recovery is going to be long. I’ll have to place drains.”
Adam grunts against the oxygen mask.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you post-op.” He finishes his scrubbing. “I’m going to get gowned up and then we’ll start.”
Adam listens to the sounds of Lawrence washing his hands and putting on gloves and gown. The mirrored image blurs through his tears. He’s helpless to fight this. Lawrence’s earlier words ring through his head. Just let go. I’ll make you whole.
Lawrence sets up his surgical tray and unfolds a drape over Adam’s body. He’s careful not to cover Adam’s face.
“Alright.” He looks down at Adam. “Lucky you, you have the best seat in the house.” He gestures up at the mirror and chuckles. “Just a little joke. Okay, you may feel some pressure here but you shouldn’t feel any pain.” The scalpel gleams in the surgical lights.
The sensation is like being prodded through a thick blanket. Adam draws in a sharp breath, anticipating pain that never comes. It’s just the dull pressure against his chest.
“Are you okay?”
Lawrence doesn’t wait for an answer to continue his incision. There’s less blood than Adam was expecting. The scalpel makes a smooth cut. The skin splits easily, like canvas beneath a heated knife. It’s peeled from the red flesh beneath, the muscles like twitching, living brushstrokes. Yellow fat is carefully scooped away with the adoration of a sculptor cutting back marble. Adam feels better already, freed from the burden of his condemning flesh. His eyes drift to Lawrence’s. The blue eyes are focused, the brows are furrowed in concentration. He is very much a doctor, but also an artist. To Adam, his Creator.
As Lawrence makes his second incision Adam lets himself give in to the process of creation. He stares intently at the mirror above. The drape created a window into his body, obscuring the rest, but the rest didn’t matter. That’s not where the art was happening. He watches Lawrence’s finely trained fingers pluck at sinews and muscles and fat. They carefully push aside precious bundles of vessels and nerves while scooping away the unwanted bits of flesh. It was mesmerizing. Too soon, the act is over. Pale flesh is gently placed back over the now perfected tissue. Adam’s gaze drifts back to Lawrence’s face again. This time Lawrence looks up.
“We’re almost done here.”
Adam blinks slowly. Lawrence places the drains, there’s a twinge in Adam’s chest as the tubes are forced into place with metal hemostats. He grunts.
“I know.” Lawrence soothes. “They’re just temporary but they will be uncomfortable.”
Lawrence begins suturing. He apposes the skin together like pieces of a puzzle. I’ll make you whole. Adam watches in awe as he comes back together as a new, more perfect creation. Lawrence is chattier now, with the bulk of his artistic process having been accomplished. He’s quick with the suture, well practiced. It was like watching an old lady knit, so fast and so precise.
“The drains will come out in a couple of days as long as everything goes well. The skin sutures I’ll take out in a week or so. You’ll stay with me while you’re recovering from all of that.”
Adam makes a disapproving sound but it’s completely in vain.
“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. The most important part of surgery is the aftercare. This is coming together beautifully. We’re not going to mar this with improper care after. You’ll stay with me and I will ensure that it heals the way it should.”
Adam lets out a deep sigh. Just let go. I’ll make you whole. The suturing is soon done. The pieces fit back together. Adam lets his eyes close. The cleaning up part goes quickly. The entire time, Adam stares at his new being in the mirror. Now with the breasts removed he more closely resembled the man he pictured in his mind. Lawrence had done great work. Tears well in his eyes in awe at the artistic rendering before him.
A sharp prick in his left bicep brings him back to himself.
“Ah!” He hisses.
“Sorry.” Lawrence pulls the syringe away.
“What is that?”
“Testosterone. It will be important for the next parts.”
“Next parts?”
Lawrence nods. “There’s still much more to be done. Surgically, I mean.” He traces a finger down from Adam’s sternum to his navel suggestively. “But not today.” He says, somewhat reluctantly.
Adam doesn't bother to ask for clarification. He trusts Lawrence’s artistic vision. Even if he didn’t, what choice did he have? He curls his toes, movement was beginning to be restored to his muscles. His will would follow quickly behind it.
Lawrence disappears again from view. Adam rotates his wrist in the restraint, testing it for any give. He tries to twist his body. The skin pulls at the sutures.
“None of that, please. You’ll rip the sutures.” Lawrence appears at the end of the bed, at his feet. “We’re almost done.” Lawrence discreetly folds the blanket up around Adam’s waist, leaving his lower half exposed again. Adam’s skin ripples with goosebumps, he huff’s impatiently.
He sucks in a sharp breath as he feels two gloved fingers penetrate into his cunt. His back arches and he strains against the binds around his wrists and ankles.
“Shhhh…” Lawrence’s voice is calm, steady. “I just want to take some initial measurements. Your clitoris will enlarge with the testosterone but I’m curious about how much I’ll have to work with.” He sinks his fingers in a little deeper.
Adam whimpers and writhes down against the table.
“Easy.” Lawrence places a hand over Adam’s hip to help hold him down. “None of that now. I just placed those sutures. I’d like to not have to repair them.”
Adam moans as Lawrence sweeps his fingers up towards his navel. His feet stretch and then flex. He watches the image of himself panting in the mirror.
“Did you know that most of the clitoral body is internal? It’s actually a pretty sizable organ.” Lawrence curls his fingers in an achingly slow ‘come hither’ motion until he hits the spot that makes Adam cry out. “There.”
He presses his thumb against the hood of Adam’s clit. Adam moans, his eyes flutter shut.
“It’s a good two…maybe three inches. We should have plenty of space.” He rolls the sensitive nub of Adam’s clit below his thumb.
“Fuck…fuck me.”
Lawrence smiles fondly, his thumb moving in lazy circles. “Not yet. You just had surgery. You should refrain from any…rigorous physical activity.”
“Please. Fuck!”
“You know, there’s a good chance this will only get more sensitive with testosterone therapy.” He curls the fingers buried in Adam’s cunt.
“Lawrence!” He whines. “Please!” Fuck me. Cut me open. Make me new. Rip me to shreds.
“Shhhh…just let go. I’ll give you what you want.”
Adam’s body trembles, he swallows hard. He watches in the mirror as Lawrence slowly, methodically slides his fingers in and out of him. Internally, Lawrence presses firmly against the wall of Adam’s cunt. Externally, his thumb drifts in steady circles around Adam’s clit and labia. The restraints creak against the strain of Adam’s coiled muscles. Lawrence slows his pace, making Adam whimper.
“Just relax.” Lawrence purrs. “Just let go.”
Adam forces his muscles to relax. He starts panting heavily as Lawrence increases his pace again. Adam stares down the image in the mirror.
“Do you like what you see? Have I made you more whole?”
“Yes…yes…yes…” The words come as breathy whispers between pants. “Ah! Yes!” He coils around Lawrence’s fingers as he cums. “Fuck! Fuck.” His breath slows as Lawrence removes his fingers.
He watches the mirror Lawrence move to his side and stroke his hair back. They nuzzle into the temple of his mirrored self. This was a new, more whole self.
