Spoilers: for “Adam”
Warning: This is Adam we’re talking about, so you can consider this fic to have issues of dubious consent.
Summary: Adam has a lot of work to do. The trick is going to be not to get too greedy.
Adam caresses Toshiko's cheek and she melts into his hand, gazing up at him with doe eyes tinged with slightly less-than-innocent lust.
“Adam,” she breathes.
He knows he’s won, and it was so easy. Too easy, maybe. Where’s the fun in that?
He rests his hand against the side of Toshiko’s neck and says softly, “We have to keep it professional, remember?”
Tosh straightens and takes a step back. “Of course, Adam, I enjoy having you as a friend. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do.”
“As do I love, as do I,” he murmurs as he watches her walk away.
Adam sneaks up behind Ianto and places a hand on his shoulder. Admiration, adoration, flirtation. Ianto thinks Adam’s out of his league, he’s not infatuated with Jack, his memories are this…
“Heya. Adam. Fancy a coffee?” Ianto looks up hopefully.
“You know how I like it, Ianto. Can you bring it to me downstairs? I’ve got Weevil duty.”
“Not a problem.” Ianto’s smile is sweet but professional and Adam is wondering what the expanse of his chest looks like under all that pretty wrapping.
He does some nonsensical things in the basement, and when Ianto comes down, he takes the coffee cup and sets it aside.
“What would you say, Ianto, if I said I’d been really enjoying getting to know you?”
“I’d say that I feel the same way.” Ianto looks pleased but wary. Adam steps forward and straightens Ianto’s tie, letting his fingers brush his Adam’s apple.
“Do you, Ianto? Do you feel the same way? I mean, you do know what I’m saying, don’t you?”
“I… I think so, Adam.” No, Adam can see he knows exactly what’s being said. His hand drops absently to Ianto’s chest, slides under his jacket, feels Ianto’s nipples harden underneath his candy-colored shirt.
“I want you,” Adam says. “And I know you want me too. I’ve seen the way you look at me.” Ianto seems faint with desire, so Adam plants a kiss on his upturned lips, breathes in his sigh. Quickly he backs Ianto up against the wall, ignoring the Weevil’s whimpers of what he senses is a sort of protest. He rubs Ianto’s cock through his trousers and Ianto groans, hardening fast and Adam feels something like pride that he’s made that happen.
Ianto’s eyes are shut tightly and Adam wonders if a small part of him is thinking of Jack. He puts his hands on the side of Ianto’s neck and fills his mind with more memories of Adam: the way Ianto admired his skill with firearms, how Ianto felt the first day he saw Adam, how good Ianto thinks Adam looks in a suit. Adam’s sucking up the pleasure coming off Ianto in waves. Ianto has memories of Jack, which Adam takes for himself – some very sensual stuff – and Adam feels himself practically glow with energy and lustful remembrance.
Ianto reaches for Adam’s waistband, Adam still rubbing insistently at his fly – then he shudders and moans and yes, Adam has made him come in his trousers.
“Easy,” Adam whispers in Ianto’s ear, and he also thinks, easy, too easy. Maybe this wasn’t – isn’t - what he wants right now after all. He touches Ianto’s face, erases and resets, and says, “Thanks for the coffee, Ianto, sorry you’ve got that beastly Weevil duty.”
The confusion on Ianto’s face focuses and then clears completely. He nods. “You’re welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Adam, I’ve got work to do.”
Adam finds Owen at his computer and not, thankfully, elbows-deep in alien guts.
“Morning!” Owen says cheerfully, spinning around on his stool and pushing his frame glasses back up his nose. “Sleep well?”
“Absolutely, thanks. A word, if you have a moment?”
“Sure, yeah.” Owen looks uncommonly pleased to be singled out for a chat. Prat, Adam thinks. That was one aspect of the git’s personality that would always be constant. God, the memories he’d taken out of that one’s head. Owen should thank him. Some incredibly ugly stuff, dark and twisted and pathetic.
They go round a corner and stop in a small stairwell, out of sight.
“Owen, a word of advice,” Adam says, placing his hand on top of Owen’s shoulder and leaning in confidentially.
“Yes?” Owen’s face changes expression, it shifts, adjusts to newly formed memories and then settles into something Adam likes better.
Adam has to appreciate Jack’s ability to surround himself with submissives – just look at Toshiko and Ianto – and this one, whose deepest desire is to be dominated but can’t even recognize it through the heavy shell of bullshit he’s built up around him.
And as Adam’s least favorite, Owen’s not likely to be “the one,” but Adam has plenty of things to try out. He’s got to test each team members’ mettle, and he might as well test the pleasures of this human form while he’s at it.
He smiles, silky and sweet, and unzips his fly.
“Again, it’s just a little advice, Owen. You should make sure my needs are met the instant you get into work and can reasonably do so. I think my orders on this have been crystal clear.”
“Sorry, Adam, sorry,” Owen says, distracted and contrite as he removes his glasses and sinks to his knees. Adam’s given Owen enough memories of their previous acts together (tied up, flogged, on his knees, on his back), but it’s still empowering to watch him do what he’s never actually done before, to wrap his lips around Adam’s cock and lean in to swallow it like a professional.
The smooth, warm moisture feels good, even better when Adam thrusts his hips forward. The way Owen moans and takes it in sends little sparks down Adam’s spine. He grips the back of Owen’s head and fucks his mouth in earnest. Owen’s hand snakes down to his crotch and Adam murmurs a negative and is pleased to see Owen refrain, his eyes open now, contrite again.
When Adam is bored of the game, he steps back. He waves his hand to indicate he wants Owen to jerk himself off. Owen eagerly complies, staring at Adam’s cock the entire time. He comes so hard Adam has to take another step back so as not to get it on his shoes.
“You didn’t…” Owen says, wiping his mouth and tucking himself back in.
“Not wasting it on you this morning,” Adam says. He grips Owen’s shoulder, keeping him on his knees just a little longer. “Work on your technique for next time.” He reshuffles the memories in Owen’s head like a deck of cards but leaves a few precious scenes of humiliation and an unrequited crush on Toshiko just because he can.
He’s got much grander plans, however.
Jack is, of course, the big prize.
Adam has fed on some of his memories – enough to know that he’s found a fountain of youth for himself. Jack has enough memories to let him live for a very long time.
The trick is going to be to conceal himself well enough. The trick is going to be not to get too greedy.
But he has to have a taste of his prize. Ianto’s memories have given him enough of a glimpse to know what he can expect and how it should be played. So it’s easy to bring Jack his morning coffee just the way he likes it. Easy enough to wipe the “Where’s Ianto?” from his lips and his head with a casual brush and hear instead “Thanks, Adam, jus the way I like it,” and to be the recipient of the unapologetic innuendo.
Adam leans in for a taste, holding onto Jack’s shoulder, letting his lips brush the side of Jack’s neck as he lingers behind his chair. The coffee sits steaming on the table, forgotten.
A million tiny memories flicker and change in Jack’s mind, moving like a mosaic of images as Adam leisurely takes and gives, rearranges and reshuffles. Jack remembers a slow, building flirtation with his younger colleague – he remembers Adam’s shy advances, and how they’ve both been circling each other, waiting for the right moment.
That moment, Jack thinks (with Adam’s help), is now.
Jack stands up and pushes his chair back from the table. His hands wrap around Adam’s head and Adam welcomes Jack’s kiss, the bruising intensity a sure sign of tenderness. Jack’s want is coming off him in waves. His hands shake as he caresses Adam and threads his fingers through his hair. Jack is so solid, so strong, and so full of memories; it makes Adam’s knees go weak. Jack is there to hold him up.
“This?” Jack asks. “This is what you want?” He’s breathless, Adam can’t help but notice.
“Yes,” Adam tells him. “I’ve wanted it for years.”
Adam lets Jack undress them both, while he runs his hands along Jack’s skin – that electric rail of memory and time and human essence – taking blocks of memories and feeding on their energy. And when he opens his eyes again, his cock is hard in Jack’s hand and Jack is gently guiding Adam’s hand to his own, and it’s not about remembering but about existing in the present, it’s about making a memory.
His lips and tongue communicate to Jack more precisely what he wants and Jack touches his face again before gently turning him around and pushing him forward, facedown on the desk.
Jack keeps some very lovely smelling oil in his desk – probably something from the 51st century – and Adam gives into the sensation of being probed and pushed into, Jack’s hand warm and steady on his back, the fingers of his other hand doing the rest of the work. Then Jack leans over and places kisses along Adam’s shoulders and spine as he lined up his cock and pushes into him all in one go.
Adam has to grip the edge of the desk and Jack murmurs to him, hold on tight, that’s it and other dirty epithets that don’t really interest him.
What does interest him is his own leaking cock pressed against the desk blotter on Jack’s desk. This human form is so unfamiliar but suddenly so full of pleasure and sensation. He lets all that fill him, studies it in an almost clinical way, before he’s surprised by his own orgasm and how it feels.
Jack is gasping over his back, breathing against his neck. He’s like a dying fish and Adam is suddenly a little disgusted by him. He shifts so Jack moves up and off, hears him strip off a condom. Hears him fish a towel out of the drawer and clean himself up. Adam lets Jack lift him, too, and gently clean him up. Adam’s mind is full of things, too many, too varied, and suddenly he knows how dangerous his game really is.
He can’t bear the weight of Jack’s stare, so it’s over quickly. Not so quickly that they don’t have time to dress, but once they have, once Adam settles into the new feeling in his body – stretched, sore, pliant – he grips Jack’s neck and reels him in for a kiss that ends in a complete rewrite. He wipes Jack’s memories of sex with him and replaces everything else he needs to be there.
Something at the bottom of Jack’s mind stirs, and Adam pokes it with interest. He’ll leave that -- sand, sun, a father, a brother, danger -- for later.
For now, he has to get out of there.
In the end, it’s Toshiko. Adam finally realizes that all the things he needs lie with her. She is the one that will protect him and will, in the end, do anything for him.
Later, when he dies, he realizes that he’d underestimated her. She is loyal beyond all else, but that is exactly where he went wrong. Her loyalty to Jack is almost written in her DNA.
She's not the only one he underestimates.
It’s nearly noon, but to them it’s first thing in the morning and it’s his anniversary with Toshiko. Owen is dying of jealousy and Jack is happy for them. Ianto brings him his coffee.
Adam is woven seamlessly into their memories. And there he’s going to stay.