#adrian 2

“Beanie babies, you can have one if you want. You can have them all.” He pulls his feet up and tucks them criss-cross applesauce on the couch.

“That’s okay, my version of you has a closet full of them.” You flick your eyes to the stairs. Adrian was probably sprinting back to Peacemaker’s house to fill the rest of the group in on his findings. He’d left you with a ‘Watch him, make sure he doesn’t leave! I’ll be right back!’ You didn’t even have time to respond before he was running out the door, leaving you with his alternate.

Other Adrian hopped off the couch, hands on his hips, “Does he have Stretch?”

“He’s the cutest of them all.” You both say in unison, and Other Adrian beams at you, his mouth widening in a smile not unlike that of your own. It seems to pull a little beyond anything you’ve seen from your Adrian, the glint in his eye just that much more sharp.

You cocked your head at him, “It’s uncanny.”

“What is?”

“Just...” You peek into a few boxes, verifying the Beanie Baby story, wagging a finger back and forth in a vague direction, “You two.”

“What about us?”

“I thought my Adrian was uniquely peculiar. Who knew there could be another one of equal measure.”

“Why do you call him that?” Other Adrian circles the shelf you’re looking at. He peers at you from the other side, visible from the nose up. His eyebrows furrow as he tries and fails to mutter to himself, “My Adrian.”

“Uh, differentiation, I guess.” You know you aren’t on your best social behavior right now, distracted by your surroundings and the overwhelming unknown of this entirely separate dimension. It’s hard not to feel like you can let the mask slip around Other Adrian, though, nothing he’s done so far has surprised you, and whatever anxiety you’re choking down seems to dissipate under your natural instinct to suppress and ignore.

“Oh, so you’re not his girlfriend?” He meanders along the aisle, tracing a fingertip over the rough ridge of the shelf. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, and he presses his forehead to the cool metal in front of him, “For a second there I thought he might be cooler than me.”

“Ha!” You cover your mouth, “I mean, sorry.”

“For what?”

“Nevermind.”

He swings around behind you, and you swear you can feel his fingertips just graze the back of your hair.

“Why aren’t you his girlfriend?” Other Adrian stands perpendicular to you, wobbling on his feet, his shoulder brushing your upper arm. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes.

You turn to face him head on, and he shrinks away from you almost imperceptibly. If you didn’t know some version of him you would’ve missed it. His gaze is more intense than you’ve ever felt from your Adrian, blood boiling under the surface of his skin, nerves vibrating with anticipation. And at the same time this man feels smaller, like he would disappear under the scrutiny of your sustained attention.

“He’s never asked.” You shrug, “He was, like, my first kiss when we were in elementary school. But I don’t think that count—”

“I would count it.” He blurts, “If you wanted me to.”

Other Adrian’s eagerness kicks up intrigue in your chest, the first fluttering of feeling you’ve had that wasn’t complete and total anxiety, bogged down and suppressed by forced indifference. If nothing else, it was a relief to have that to hold onto.

“Okay, sure, in the reality where that happened we can count it.” You laugh, running a hand through your hair and shaking out the knots. “Is there really not a ‘me’ in this whole place?”

He shrugs, “I never met her.”

“So, who did you kiss in third grade instead?”

He shakes his head, “Uh, nobody...I went to school with my mom so that would be weird and gross.”

“Huh.” You chew on your lip, “Well, have you ever?”

He shakes his head with more fury, “Not in this town, no way.”

You consider him for several seconds, intrigue building, the corner of your mouth kicking up as you admire the features on his face. The features you know so well. You’ve thought about it since that childhood kiss, for sure, but it never seemed pressing. Your Adrian lived across the street your whole life, and you were never much for dating anyway. His company was good, then the company of the rest of the group felt like a natural and well earned evolution. Five friends was more than enough.

Six, now, maybe. If parallel dimension versions of the man you already knew even counted.

“Do you want to?” You lean back against the shelf, hands bracing on the inset particle board behind you.

The kiss was clumsy, Other Adrian shuffling towards you, his lips shaking as he approached.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You whispered, keeping your hands at your sides.

He presses too hard against you, teeth chattering, palms harsh on your cheeks.

It takes some guidance, your hands on his shoulders pushing him a comfortable distance, fingers wrapping around his wrist to place palms where you want them, measured rhythm slowing him down.

After a minute, he’s done everything right, and you push him further away.

“Ta da.” You smile, patting him firmly on the shoulder.

“How’d I measure up?” He reaches his hands forward and places them on either side of you, fingers curling over the metal lip.

“Compared to my singular kiss with my version of you twenty-five years ago?”

He frowns when you refer to your Adrian as yours, “Yes.”

You linger on your first syllable, certain he isn’t joking but shocked that he seems to actually care, “I—there was a learning curve, but—”

“Let me try again.” He turns on his heels to go sit on the futon, patting next to him, “Come here, this is more comfortable for you.”

The direct command surprises you enough to work, and the second try is like an entirely different man.

His hand comes to rest on the back of your head, and he leans you backward until you’re settled into the corner where the cushion meets the arm rest. It’s still clumsy, losing rhythm and finding it over and over until he’s figured out how to accommodate your particular flow. He lets out a whimper of surprise when you slip your tongue into his mouth, but it turns into a low rumble in his chest as he feels emboldened to return the favor.

Without conscious thought you’re shucking off clothing and rolling a condom over his erection. You’re almost certain it took some massive effort to not cum from that alone. Escalation on the expanded futon until you’re on your back with him towering over you, ankles over his shoulders, bouncing with every thrust.

“Does he even know what he’s missing?” Other Adrian asks, his arms hooked behind your knees, nipping kisses on the inside of your legs.

You laugh through your moans, shaking your head, “I have no fucking idea.”

His hips buck against the back of your thighs, harsh slaps of sweat slicked skin again and again. The firm head of his cock thumps somewhere in your core, your gut lurching with a pain you desperately accept. He’s grimacing and grinning all at once, gold-rimmed glasses knocked halfway down the bridge of his nose, “I’d be glad to tell him, you want me to? Please let me tell him.”

“Shh, fuck, you’re just saying that because I was your first kiss.”

“First kiss, first—holy fuck—first pussy. I mean, I have a fleshlight I’m not a freak, but this, I’ve never felt anything like this. Never seen anyone like you.”

Something mean has come out of this Adrian, something greedy and possessive. You’ve never heard your Adrian use language like this, and the admission makes your stomach flip, makes you hum with satisfaction.

“Oh? So you’re like a baby, huh?” You tease, flexing your hand over the cool metal of the arm rest, meeting his eyes.

“If either of us is a baby it’s him for not doing this for you. Do you have to go back? I’d do this for you every day, whenever you want. You can live in my basement.”

“C’mere.” You reach a hand out for him, scratching your nails over his forearm until he bends down to kiss you again.

He hovers above your mouth as you speak, “I can’t stay here, what if I, god, what if I cause some inter-dimensional glitch? I have my—”

Other Adrian forces a hand over your mouth, “Don’t fucking call him your Adrian.”

You gasp behind his palm, breath hitched, eyebrows knitting together. Fuck if that didn’t churn the pleasure in your gut. You writhe against him, nodding, and reach a hand down to graze over your own clit.

“Stop, what are you doing? Let me.” He bats your hand away, thrusts slowing to a deep grind as he mimics your circling movement. He keeps the hand on your mouth, eyes boring into you.

As intense as his gaze is, you can’t look away, your eyes burning, squinting, aching to screw shut with the pleasure coursing through your hips. His touch on your clit radiates where the grind of his cock builds in concentrated waves.

Despite your best efforts to languish in the excitement of his attention, you cum underneath him with a severe jolt.

“Shit, is this an orgasm?” He backs away to admire your trembling figure, hand coming free from your mouth, one foot on the ground to brace himself as he continues fucking into you through it. “Oh, oh, I’m, wow—”

His climax overlaps the last shock waves of your own, and you pull him down over your torso, squishing your bodies together and prodding him to keep thrusting even as he stutters and loses rhythm. You lift your hips into him, sinking your teeth into his neck as he cries out, sucking hickeys into the salty skin.

Both of you lie there, heaving breaths into the hot room until you’ve regained some composure. Other Adrian presses sticky kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your lips.

You tug at his hair, and he looks up at you.

It’s Adrian, alright. He looks like yours, and maybe you could call this one more yours than the one you’ve known all your life. You don’t know, really. But you can see the difference now, the certainty with which he looks at you. It’s too much to linger on, right this moment. There’s that glint in his eye, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

“I’m glad I could do that for you. Could be that for you.” You scratch at the crown of his head, and he leans into it.

“I almost feel sorry for the other me.” He exhales through his nose, “Maybe you could throw him a bone. If he ever got up the nerve to ask.”

He rolls his eyes, and you shake your head, “It’s different.”

“How?”

There was no time for him to react, nor a chance for him to resist when the box started moving upward. The elevator was a clean one. It had chrome walls, a soft scent of lemon citrus and something a bit floral, and the floor beneath him gleamed it’s marble shin.

Adrian then looked down at himself. His was armor scuffed and he was still gripping his sword, that had traces of blood on it. He looked up at up at the mirror in front of him, where his reflection looked just as confused as he felt.

The elevator then dinged, a soft chime that was oddly calming. And before he could figure out how to work the fancy panel on the far wall, the doors slid open.

He stepped out into a penthouse apartment, one that looked like it could have belonged to a celebrity, or maybe a sexy Bond villain by the looks of some things. The ceilings stretched high, soft white light spilling across plush toned leather furniture and soft cream carpets. But what caught his eye were the details.

A pair of crow Beanie Babies perched on the mantel near the door, lags handing off the shelf and flaps next to each other like they were holding hands. Little glass cat figurines lined the window ledge. There was also a massive aquarium that glowed by the entrance, filled with colorful fish weaving through coral and bubbles. There were also large pictures of a sexy woman in lingerie hanging from some of the walls.

The whole place was…glitzy, but strangely comforting.

He barely had time to process before he heard the soft scrape of a knife on a cutting board.

Walking further into the home, Adrian turned toward the sound and saw you.

You stood in the kitchen, the sunlight spilling over your skin like honey from the large windows of the open floor plan. Everything about you looked expensive, especially as part of the home. From the delicate gold bracelets stacked on your wrists to the diamond studs glittering in your ears. Your hair was a perfect sculpture of curls that framed your face, and your skin was a rich and radiant brown that seemed to glow.

You were slicing fruit, which looked to be kiwi, which he watched you pop into your mouth. Your outfit was as pristine as the apartment, a fitted cream blouse tucked into a pastel skirt, and cream red-bottom stilettos clicking against the tile floor.

For a moment, Adrian forgot to breathe as he stared at you.

And then you looked up.

And your entire face lit up.

“Adrian!”

The sound of your voice hit him like a shot to the chest. Before he could react, you were rushing toward him, those expensive heels clicking against the floor like rapid-fire gunshots. You threw yourself into his arms, your perfume wrapping around him—that same lemon citrus mix from the elevator, but more intoxicating on your skin. Your arms went around his neck, and your lips pressed against his cheek, his jaw, his forehead, his mouth. “Oh my gosh, you’re here! You’re here!” You got out between pecks.

Adrian stiffened at the sudden impact, and his arms came up instinctively, hands resting awkwardly at your waist. You were warm to the touch, skin soft and like putty in his hands.

He blinked, eyes wide and unblinking, as you pulled back enough to look at him.

Your manicured nails slid up into his hair, careful not to caress his skin, as if you were used to his sensory issue as you scratched at his scalp. “I’m so glad you could make it, baby.” Your voice softened, affectionate and playful all at once. “I was so bummed thinking we wouldn’t get to spend our anniversary together.”You pouted then, genuinely disappointed, before you leaned in to kiss him again, a soft press of lips that tasted faintly like fruit.

Adrian still hadn’t spoken. His brain blank, which was highly unlike him.

“Adrian?” You asked, tilting your head.

He blinked them. “Huh?”

“What’s wrong?” You asked, eyes narrowing in concern. “You look dazed. Are you sick? Did work give you another concussion? And when did you change your frames? The good looks nice, though.”

“Oh, no, I’m okay.” He said quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m just… so excited to see you.”

Your smile softened at that, but your eyes were full of love as the sun reflected on you, shining in the light. “It’s been a while.” You said softly.

“It has.” He said, trying to match your warmth.

But then your voice dropped, husky and intimate, your words brushing the air between you. “I’ve missed the smell of you on the sheets.”

Adrian froze again at that, eyes locked on yours.

“And on your clothes.” You murmured, brushing your nose against his, rubbing against his cold skin. “It didn’t last long in your laundry, either. I had to clean them after a while—or else the blood would stain.”

He just keeping getting more and more confused, one that now mixed with hot and bothersome as you kept speaking. That information hit him like a jolt. His pulse jumped, the soldier in him snapping to attention. But your tone wasn’t fearful. If anything, it was fond. And that turned him on, that you weren’t phased by his way of life.

“And I missed your touch.” You whispered, leaning close enough for your breath to ghost his ear. You nipped at his earlobe, then let your tongue trace the skin lightly, teasingly. Adrian’s breath hitched, his hands twitching against your waist.

Before he could close his eyes or respond to your sensual affection, you pulled back, playful and chipper again, your expression snapping back to that look of sunshine.

“But we don’t have time for that!” You chirped.

You grabbed his face, squishing his cheeks together so his lips puckered into an exaggerated pout. “You’re here, it’s our anniversary, and we should have plans!”you then leaned in and planted a loud, dramatic kiss on his lips. “Muah!”The sound echoing in the quiet apartment.

“Now go get dressed.” You said, tapping his nose with a manicured finger. “And don’t go rummaging through my dirty laundry.” You added, sending him a cheeky wink before you turned back toward your breakfast, hips swaying.

Adrian stood there, dazed, watching you walk away. His gaze dipped briefly, almost helplessly, to the curve of your hips in that tight skirt, and just as he realized what he was doing, you glanced over your shoulder and caught him. You smiled, a slow and knowing grin that made something in his chest twist, before going back to slicing your fruit.