Chapter 13

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JOHN

JOHN TAPPED his thumbs on the steering wheel, eyeing the clock as he drove home. A small part of him was tempted to press the gas pedal a tiny bit more, nudging the truck over the speed limit, but he knew it would be pointless. Unlike the absolute morons who insisted on constantly speeding and cutting into traffic, creating the very messes they were trying to get out of, he knew it wouldn't actually save him any time. Seconds, maybe, if that. And that was assuming he didn't cause an accident on the windy country road.

So he clenched his jaw and steadily continued on his way. But— Christ! —he couldn't wait to get home.

He'd worked late again last night, so there hadn't been any time to sit down with his guitar. Now, though, it was Friday night, and he'd actually made himself leave at a decent hour despite still having a pile of things to do. It was already getting to be that time when they needed to strap up some of the vines so the sunlight would reach the coming fruit. Plus more bottling. They'd done the rosé and a few others earlier in the year, of course, but now it was time for more. John sighed. So much to do!

But all he wanted was a nice, quiet evening. Tomorrow morning, he could get caught up with his bills and chores, then spend the rest of the weekend working with those phrases Ward had inadvertently given him. John had tried playing them through his mind any time he caught a spare moment to think, but without his notebooks in his hands, the words kept slipping away and refused to take any sort of cohesive form.

Plus, the rhymes kept eluding him.

John muttered a curse and shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, focusing on simply getting home. On doing one thing at a time. He'd take a shower, get something to eat, then grab his guitar and his notebooks and try to make the words flow.

He finally pulled into his driveway, feeling a little bit of the week's tension start to fall away as the oak trees surrounded him, blocking out the world.

Then he noticed Adam's car.

John blinked in surprise as he pulled into the garage. They didn't have plans to get together that night. As far as John knew, Adam shouldn't have been off work until ten, when the coffee shop closed.

He shut the garage door, grabbed his things, and stepped inside the house. John heard the music first, blaring from his stereo system. One song came to an end before he could recognize it, but he knew the next one right away. The opening strains of Phil Collins's "In the Air Tonight" were as familiar as the back of his hand. Despite his preference for country, this was the kind of music on which he'd been raised.

Then Adam began to sing.

John quickly removed his boots and crept beyond the doorway. He found Adam in the kitchen, surrounded by absolute chaos. There was flour all over the counter to the left of the sink, while the sink itself and all the counter space to the right of it were piled high with dirty pots, pans, and other dishes. The oven was on, but John couldn't smell anything yet. Maybe Adam had only just put in whatever dish he'd made.

But instead of starting on the mess, Adam stood in front of the open refrigerator, staring into it while his haunting voice sang along with the music.

John froze, watching the boy. Adam slowly reached out, his fingertips grazing a bottle of chardonnay that sat inside the refrigerator door. The boy stopped there, the haunted look on his face sending a chill right down John's spine.

The song's drum break crashed through the house, changing the energy in the air. Adam banged his head to the beat, swaying almost drunkenly where he stood, causing him to turn just enough that he spotted John.

Adam yelped and slammed the refrigerator shut. "Holy shit," he panted, looking around at the mess he'd made. "I didn't hear you come in." He darted over to the sink. "I let myself in with the key you gave me. Hope you don't mind. And I didn't know what time you'd be home but I wanted to surprise you and then I got hungry so I figured I'd make dinner while I waited–"

"Why aren't you at work?" John asked when Adam finally broke off to take a breath.

Adam shrugged one shoulder, his back to John while he tried to start cleaning, only to wind up making more of a mess instead. The flour seemed to double in volume, spreading down the counter and even winding up on the floor. "It was weirdly slow," Adam replied as he worked, "and we were overstaffed, so the boss sent me home. Except Haven's spending the night with Theo so my apartment was too quiet so I came over here instead." Adam paused and finally looked directly at John. "Unless you don't want me here…"

John crossed the space in a few, long strides, shoved a pot out of Adam's hands, then grabbed the boy's face, crushing their mouths together.

" Mmmph! " Adam jolted in surprise, then moaned as he melted against him.

John broke the kiss but kept their foreheads pressed together as he dragged Adam's body against his. "How long do we have?" he asked, nodding towards the oven.

"I…uh…" Adam blinked, his gaze unfocused and his pupils blown. "A-An hour, I think."

John let out a low growl and hauled Adam into the bedroom. He needed to release some tension, and he needed it now .

"Oh, thank fuck," Adam gasped, then let out another squeak of surprise when John flung him onto the bed.

John reached for the button on Adam's jeans, and the boy kicked his legs in an effort to help while John pulled the damned things off, leaving him naked from the waist down.

"Christ," John muttered, staring at him. His cock strained painfully behind his zipper, so he quickly freed himself and tore a condom out of the nightstand drawer, his arousal building as he took in Adam's hungry gaze following his every move.

"John," Adam begged.

John flipped Adam over onto his front, making the boy gasp again, but the sound instantly morphed into a deliciously needy moan. While Adam clawed at the bedspread, John rolled on the condom, then shoved Adam's legs wide. He climbed up onto the bed and threw himself on top of Adam, blanketing the boy's smaller body with his own. His cock settled into the crease of Adam's ass, and John began to rub against him.

"Please," Adam whined.

"Fuck." John wedged a hand between their bodies, grabbed his cock, lined it up, and thrust home.

Adam screamed. "Yes! Fuck. Please."

John grabbed Adam's wrists, pinning them to the bed, trapping the boy beneath him. Despite his weight holding Adam down, the boy still tried to rock his hips back, meeting every one of John's brutal thrusts.

Adam whined. "Harder," he gasped.

John growled and nearly came just from the raw need in Adam's voice. He pulled out, stood up just long enough to shove his pants and underwear to the floor, then climbed back up onto the bed. John grabbed Adam's hips and lifted them up, taking a moment to appreciate the sight. It was one of their favorite positions, with Adam braced on his shoulders and knees, ass in the air. John drove his cock back into Adam's slick hole, then paused there as he reached up under the back of Adam's t-shirt. He curled his fist around the back of Adam's chest binder, both making it hold tighter for the boy's sake and giving himself leverage as he began to thrust again, giving Adam exactly what they both wanted.

Harder.

Faster.

Deeper.

Adam went boneless beneath him, no longer clawing at the sheets but giving himself over to the pleasure. John pounded into him with everything he had. He slowed down just long enough to rip off his own shirt and cast it aside, then snatched the back of Adam's binder again and went right back to his brutal pace.

Christ! It felt good. John drove all of the week's tension right out of his body, feeling more and more of the stress crumble away with every thrust of his hips. The way Adam moaned only drove him higher. He loved being able to take Adam like this. John had been more cautious with his hookups in the past, but with Adam, he could truly let himself go. Let out the animal lurking beneath his skin.

Adam arched his back, allowing John to get a tiny bit deeper. "John!" he gasped. His hands fisted around the bedspread, and his eyes squeezed shut while his mouth hung open around panted breaths. "Please," he begged.

John muttered a curse, feeling that one little word slam right into his groin, putting him on the edge. He bent over Adam and slipped his free hand around the boy's hip, inching its way down along Adam's groin until his fingertip grazed the boy's tiny dick.

Adam screamed.

"Fuck!" John cried out, feeling Adam's insides clamp down around his length. He slammed in deep and held there as he came, Adam's body milking his cock for every last drop of cum that he shot into the condom.

He collapsed on top of Adam, flattening the boy to the bed as they both gasped for breath.

"Holy…shit," Adam panted.

"Yeah," John agreed, barely managing to get the one word out. Holy shit, indeed . He'd needed that far more than he'd realized. Maybe they both did.

"Don't pull out yet," Adam mumbled, sounding almost sleepy.

John chuckled but didn't move. He'd happily stay inside his boy forever, but he knew he couldn't do that. Still, he held his position until he felt his cock begin to go soft, then he wedged a hand between their bodies and held the condom in place as he slowly pulled out, only to go right back to lying on top of the boy. A little thrill of power and possession ran through him as he settled himself back in place, the slick condom hanging loosely around his soft cock, wedged right up against Adam's bare ass. He felt it smearing his own groin and thighs with the boy's wetness, so it had to be doing the same to Adam.

It felt like silently saying, Look what I did to you .

"Can I just say," Adam murmured, "I am so fucking glad that I came over tonight."

John laughed. "You and me both." He took in a deep breath through his nose, then finally registered the scent of whatever Adam had in the oven. "Christ, that smells good. What is it?"

"Huh? Oh. Cottage pie. I made the crust from scratch." Adam winced. "Hence the flour everywhere. I should go clean that up."

John chuckled, then shifted his weight, getting ready to get up but not lifting off the boy yet. Instead, he nuzzled behind Adam's ear as he said, "I'm going to go shower. If you get all that mess cleaned up really well, I'll give you a nice reward after dinner." He punctuated the statement with a roll of his hips.

Adam gasped and tried to rip himself out from under John in his hurry to go do as he was told.

John finally let him up and chuckled as he watched the boy scramble out of the room. Adam didn't even bother to stop and put his pants back on first. John picked them up, along with Adam's underwear, and folded both neatly before setting them on top of the dresser, then he straightened the bedspread and picked up his own discarded clothing on his way to the bathroom.

He threw away the condom and got into the shower. John found himself smiling as he stood there under the hot water. He could get used to this. Coming home to Adam, even when he wasn't expecting the boy. Even to the messy kitchen and the loud music, which was still playing. Fucking the day's tension out of both of their bodies, then sitting down to dinner and a movie before enjoying one another all over again.

Of course, it meant his plans for the evening had gone right out the window. He couldn't very well sit and work on a song about Adam while the boy was right there. Granted, he had done exactly that when they'd written "December Dreams," but maybe that was part of why the song never lived up to John's expectations, besides being the wrong music genre.

No, Adam's Song needed to be a complete secret until it was done.

John got out of the shower, frowning when he realized the music was off. Weird . He would have thought Adam would keep it on to entertain himself while cleaning up his mess. John quickly dried off and pulled on a pair of lounge shorts before padding out to the kitchen.

He jerked to a stop at the sight before him. Not a bit of the mess had been touched, so his kitchen still looked like a disaster zone, but that wasn't what really caught his attention.

Adam sat on the floor, leaning back against the cabinets, his bare legs bent and his elbows braced on his knees. His phone was in one hand, and the bottle of chardonnay was in the other.

Christ . That bottle had been almost full an hour ago. Now it was more than half empty.

John watched as Adam brought the bottle to his mouth and chugged down several swallows.

Fuck . John shuddered at the sight. "Adam?"

The boy barely reacted at first. He took another few sips of the wine before he slowly looked up.

Then burst into tears.

"Shit," John muttered, throwing himself down in front of Adam and trying to pry the bottle away so he could pull Adam into his arms. What the hell happened?

He was about to ask the question aloud when Adam finally released the bottle and collapsed against him.

"I tried calling Dakota," Adam choked out between sobs. "He sent me a text about a song he heard that he thought I should sing at the wedding, so I was gonna tell him that I won't be singing at the wedding–"

John blinked in surprise as Adam paused to suck in a breath. Adam wasn't singing at the wedding? Last he'd heard, that issue had been resolved. But apparently something had changed in the past couple days and Adam hadn't told him about it.

"But I opened my contacts and went to press Dakota's name while I was shutting off the music so I could hear him," Adam rambled on, wiping tears from his cheeks, only for more to instantly appear, "except Dakota's name is right under my dad's in my contacts and I must have accidentally hit the wrong one while I wasn't looking at what I was doing because it went straight to voicemail and then I heard–" Adam broke off, sucking in another breath before a fresh sob tore out of him.

John held him tight and rubbed his arm. "Heard what?"

Instead of speaking an answer, Adam held up his phone and tapped on the screen. The phone rang once, then immediately clicked over to voicemail.

" Hi, you've reached Frank Barnes. Please leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Have a great day. "

John's body jerked in shock. "Fuck," he gasped, staring at the phone. He hadn't heard that voice in nine years, but even without Frank stating his name, John would have recognized it anywhere. It was the voice that haunted his nightmares, the one that threatened to kill him if he ever touched Adam again.

A robotic, female voice announced that the mailbox was full, and Adam quickly jabbed at the button to end the call.

"It's stupid, right?" Adam asked, dropping his phone on the floor. "Still paying to keep his line active after all this time? Except sometimes I forget his voice. Like, who even does that? Who forgets their dad's voice? But I do sometimes and then I have to hear it again but this is all I have and it's both not enough and too much and then every once in a while I call it on accident and–" He broke off sobbing again.

John closed his eyes and inwardly cursed while Adam curled up against him. He eyed the phone on the floor between their legs, idly wondering if Frank Barnes's ghost might somehow pop out of the device. John held Adam tighter, glancing in the direction of the table where he'd left his own phone.

He wondered if he should play Frank's message for Adam. Give the boy another piece of his dad's voice.

That idea lasted all of two seconds before John shuddered and cast the thought aside. Considering what was probably in that message, he couldn't bear to hear it, let alone torment Adam with the sound of his dad in anger. And that was assuming the recording would even play.

So he did the only thing he could do. He held Adam as the boy cried, only breaking away when the timer went off. John got up to pull the pie out of the oven, then went right back to the floor, pulling Adam into his arms. He stayed there until Adam cried himself to sleep, then carried Adam to bed, tucked him in, and went to tackle the kitchen disaster himself.

Wishing, all the while, that he could clean up one mess as easily as the other.