Adam in Suburbia - Before the Text Convo (Patreon)

What led to Noah's frantic family text chat. Unbeta'd/Unedited. “Adam?”  Noah dropped his bag at the door, going to his knees as his four

What led to Noah's frantic family text chat. Unbeta'd/Unedited.

“Adam?” 

Noah dropped his bag at the door, going to his knees as his four fur babies raced to greet him. After several kisses and one burp directly into his face—thank you, Dexter—he stood, wandering further into the house, shrugging off his jacket and yanking on his tie. He’d only made it about ten steps when arms wrapped around him from behind. 

He stiffened, then relaxed, feeling the familiar press of Adam’s chest against his back. Noah settled his hands over his husband’s, melting into his hold. Adam nuzzled his neck, scraping his teeth along the skin there in a way that had Noah’s lower body taking interest. 

“Guess what I did today?” he asked against Noah’s ear. 

Noah’s heart crashed to the floor. “Baby, you have no idea how terrifying those words are coming out of your mouth.” 

Adam pulled Noah’s shirt free from his pants, deft fingers easily working the buttons open as he laughed. Noah let his eyelids flutter shut as Adam palmed over his now exposed skin. Noah bit back a moan, enjoying the warmth as his hands roamed freely, squeezing his pecs and teasing his nipples. When they settled over Noah’s tummy, they lingered, kneading him like a cat. 

This time it was Adam who gave a low groan, burying his face against Noah’s neck. “Never go back to the gym. It's so smooshy here. I love it.” 

Noah snorted. A few weeks ago, this may have offended him. It wasn’t like he’d gained weight really. He’d just lost his ability to spend hours at the gym like he used to before taking over for Thomas. At first, he’d worried his looks-obsessed, admittedly vain husband would find him less attractive without his toned tummy, but it was just the opposite. Adam couldn’t keep his hands off of him. And not just his hands. He often rubbed his face against his belly, dropping kisses there while they watched television, using him like a pillow. It had taken a while to realize Adam really did like him this way.

Adam’s body was still considered the height of perfection. Toned, tanned, not too bulky, not too thin. He could go back to modeling tomorrow and not a single agency would have a thing to say except sign here.

Noah’s breath caught as Adam’s fingertips grazed his nipples. “Baby…I still need to shower.” 

“Who’s stopping you?” Adam asked, tugging Noah’s shirt down his arms. 

He sighed, turning in Adam’s arms, frowning as he took in Adam’s outfit. He wore black dress pants and a black silk shirt with a gold chain pattern. It was a very expensive brand and a very ugly shirt. Noah hated it. He thought he’d donated it. Had Adam went and fished it out of the donation box in the garage? 

“Why are you dressed like Deuce Bigalow?” Noah asked warily. “Are you selling your dick—my dick—to the geriatrics of Serenity Grove?” 

“Ew. Baby, no,” Adam said, curling a hand around the back of Noah’s neck to reel him in for a slow, lingering kiss that was all spit and tongue. “I’m in disguise.” 

Noah rolled his eyes, even as he returned his husband’s kiss. He should shut this down. He was exhausted. He’d wanted pizza and sleep, in that order. But Adam was warm and hard and he smelled so fucking good all the time. It was like Noah’s brain just short circuited whenever his husband touched him. 

Noah slid a hand down to palm over the obvious ridge of Adam’s hard length. “This is all mine.” 

“Just yours, baby,” Adam agreed, biting down on Noah’s lower lip, taking it with him when they separated, before letting it snap back into place. 

Noah unbuttoned his husband’s ugly shirt, yanking it off of him, before letting it fall to the ground. When Adam’s hands slid over his ass to squeeze his thighs, Noah’s arms went around his neck instinctively, knowing what came next. Adam hoisted him into the air, finding his mouth again as he walked them up the stairs, down the hall, then through their bedroom to their obscenely large bathroom. 

“So why are you ‘in disguise’?” Noah asked between kisses. 

Adam’s hands gave Noah’s thighs a final squeeze before setting him on the bathroom counter. He looked like a little boy, his pale blue eyes sparkling with excitement as he confidently said, “I did it.” 

He said it as if Noah was supposed to understand what that meant. ‘It’ could be so many things where Adam was concerned. ‘It’ could have been going grocery shopping alone or ‘it’ could mean he went and dropped a hundred and fifty grand on a new car. There was no rhyme or reason to his husband’s madness. He was all extremes, a pendulum perpetually swinging from one side to the other. 

“It?” Noah asked, eyeing his husband’s muscular back warily as he watched him turn the water on. “Tell me you didn’t buy more orchids.” 

“No,” Adam said dismissively, before seeming to catch himself. “Well, yeah, but that’s not what I meant.” 

Noah groaned, as his husband turned back to face him. “Then what did you mean?” 

“I joined the garden club!” He then gave Noah an exaggerated wince. “And I might have accidentally reignited a blood feud over some roses.” 

Noah blinked at him stupidly as the bathroom filled with steam. “What?” 

“It wasn’t my fault,” Adam said, petulantly. 

Noah raised a brow. “Now, I know it was most definitely your fault.”

“I’m serious. It was the only way to solve this murder.” 

Noah choked on his own spit. “Murder?!” 

Adam nodded vehemently, eyes wide. 

“I know I’m going to regret asking, but whose murder exactly?” 

“Eleanor Beasley’s murder,” Adam said, reaching for Noah’s belt. 

“Didn’t she have a stroke in her greenhouse or something?” Noah asked. 

He had heard others talking about it. It was the most exciting thing to hit the grove since they’d moved in. In a neighborhood where the average age was sixty-eight, one would think their neighbors would be dropping like flies. But they were all relentlessly alive. Biking, rollerblading, dance classes, pottery. Most days, Serenity Grove looked like they were shooting an ad for a fifty-five and older community. 

“That’s what I thought, too,” Adam said, dragging Noah’s attention back to himself. “But then I heard old lady Broadrick telling her daughter that Eleanor was blue when they found her.” 

Noah hopped from the counter, as Adam tugged his pants and underwear down, then made a show of watching his husband shed his own clothing. “Blue? Like a smurf?” 

Adam froze, giving Noah a look like he was the crazy one. “No, blue like she was cyanotic.” 

“Oh,” Noah said, letting Adam guide him under the six jets of their overpriced shower.

He couldn’t hold back his moan as the scalding water rolled over his skin. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back, washing his stressful day away. 

“It's not that uncommon for an old lady to die from a lack of oxygen, is it? I overheard Jeanette Jenkins telling Marjorie Deavers that she had COPD.” 

Had that sentence just come out of his mouth? God, he was no better than Adam. When had they become so engrossed in their elderly neighbors’ lives? 

“That’s what I heard, too,” Adam said, excitement leaching into his voice. “But the transcripts from the Russian’s last week showed they were having a conversation about Eleanor. They said they’d overheard Claude Reynolds telling anyone who would listen that she’d been complaining of stomach cramps and severe tingling in her hands and tongue.” 

When Adam didn’t elaborate further, Noah opened his eyes, biting back a laugh when he saw the expectant look on his husband’s face. “Should that mean something to me?” 

“Yeah. It means she was poisoned…and by someone in the garden club,” Adam said as if it was fact and not some wild theory. 

Noah opened his mouth, then shut it again, before shaking his head, muttering to himself, “No. No, you know what. That’s on me for asking.” 

He had no idea when his sexy, psychopathic husband had gone off the rails, but he had known that whatever he said would be batshit crazy. 

And he was right. 

“I’m serious,” Adam said, grabbing the soap and lathering up Noah’s body with his strong, sudsy hands. “Someone in the garden club killed her and I think it has something to do with the war of the roses.” 

“The movie?” Noah asked stupidly. 

“No, the blue roses. It’s like you’re not even listening to me,” he said, sulking. 

“I’m listening, baby, but you’re not making any sense.” 

Adam huffed out an irritated breath through his nose. “So according to Serenity Grove lore—brought to us by old lady Broadrick—before the developers bulldozed the old neighborhood to create the overpriced Serenity Grove, it was a subdivision called Shady Acres-” 

“Whoever names these communities should be tried for war crimes,” Noah muttered, temporarily cutting off his husband’s rant. 

It didn’t slow Adam down. “—the Shady Acres garden club disbanded after Eleanor Beasley and Tanner Rigsby created an award-winning hybrid blue rose, but only Eleanor got credit for it. They’ve been enemies ever since.” 

“Okay…” Noah said, rinsing his body as Adam lathered his hair with way too much shampoo. 

“Don’t you get it?” Adam asked. “Blue rose? Blue lips? Like…Tanner Rigsby finally got his revenge.” 

“That’s…a stretch.” 

Adam shook his head. “But I have a hunch. PI’s always trust their gut and my gut is telling me that Tanner Rigsby is a fucking old lady killer.” 

Noah’s gut was telling him that his husband was a lunatic. He should have seen this coming. The only thing worse than angry Adam was bored Adam. They really couldn’t afford to have Adam running around their neighborhood accusing people of poisoning each other. They were already hated by everyone on their block just for commiting the crime of being younger than the rest of them. 

“I…don’t think that’s the Perry Mason moment you think it is.” 

“Who?” 

“Nevermind,” Noah said, letting Adam tip his head back to wash his hair. “Also, not to put too fine a point on it, but you’re not a PI. You’re a former supermodel and no stay-at-home dog dad.” 

“If Aiden could be a PI, anyone could.” 

“Aiden had a license,” Noah reminded him. 

When Adam started to pout again, Noah sighed. “Okay, tell me more.” He grabbed the soap and started washing his husband’s hard body, doing his best to pay attention to something other than how the ridges of his abs felt against his fingertips. “How long ago did this feud happen?” 

“I don’t know. That’s why I had to infiltrate the garden club to get all the tea. I knew if I brought my prize-winning orchids they’d totally let me in.” 

Noah’s mouth fell open, coughing as he accidentally waterboarded himself. 

“That’s why you spent five thousand dollars on orchids?!” He shouted, when he’d finally recovered. “To join the Serenity Grove Garden Club?” 

“Babe, I had no choice. It’s almost impossible to get into the garden club. Jocelyn is a real bitch, but she has a real lady boner for orchids. I knew all I had to do was dangle my orchids in her face and, boom, I’d be in.” 

Noah grimaced at the idea of his husband dangling anything in Jocelyn Jessup’s face. That whore was always eye-fucking him when they went for their walks at night. 

“That better be the only thing you’re dangling in her face.” 

Adam grinned. “She’s seventy-years-old. Half her wardrobe is caftans.” 

“Seventy is the new forty,” Noah muttered. 

“Are you…jealous, baby?” Adam crooned, pulling Noah in until their slick bodies were pressed against each other. 

“I’m not allowed to be jealous?” Noah asked, tipping his face up to meet Adam’s gaze. 

Adam captured his lips once more. This time was far dirtier than the last. “When we get out of here, I’m gonna put you on all fours and fuck the jealousy right out of you.” 

Noah moaned against his lips. “We have to eat dinner and walk the dogs. We have to be grown-ups first.” 

Adam sighed. “Fine, but after that, I’m gonna ruin you.” 

Noah hated how quickly the blood rushed from his head to his dick. “I’ll allow it. But can we get back to the part where you tell me why you infiltrated the garden club?” 

“It’s the only way to prove that Tanner is a fucking murderer,” Adam said. 

Noah shook his head. “You think he’s the murderer because of a fight over a blue rose?” 

“No, I think he’s the murderer because he grows the murder weapon in his garden.” 

Noah wasn’t following. “He grows murder weap…Wait, you mean he poisoned her with something he grew himself?” 

Adam nodded dramatically. “Yes! Wolfsbane…also known as Monkshood. It causes aconite poisoning. The symptoms are gastrointestinal distress and numbness and tingling and then the victim becomes cyanotic, hence the blue lips. The only person in the garden club who grows Monkshood is Tanner. Weird coincidence, no?” 

God help him, Adam was starting to make an actual solid case for his suspicions. 

“Just to recap—so we’re both on the same page—you overheard Mrs. Broadrick telling her daughter that Eleanor was blue when they found her, then Arsen told you that the Russians overheard Claude saying she complained of stomach cramps and tingling in her fingers before she died. You took that to mean she was poisoned and, because you heard about her and Tanner’s war of the roses, you concocted an elaborate scheme to infiltrate the garden club, to the tune of five thousand dollars, just to prove she was murdered with his Monkshood. ” 

“Yes,” Adam said, grinning proudly. 

“Oh, baby. You really need a job,” Noah said sadly, pressing his face into Adam’s neck. 

“That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Adam murmured, his hands settling on Noah’s ass, squeezing it like a stress ball. 

Noah’s head was spinning. What was he supposed to do with this information? He turned away from Adam, shutting off the water. He let Adam dry him off and even help him into sweatpants and a t-shirt. Once he was sitting cross-legged on the bed, towel-drying his hair, he watched Adam throw on black joggers and a snowy white Chanel hoodie that made him both pretty and expensive. 

“Why don’t you take the dogs for a walk,” Noah said, giving Adam what he hoped was a normal smile. “I’ll order us dinner.” 

Adam had his phone in his hand, his brows knitted together in concentration. “I just need to finish looking up this recipe for fertilizer, then I’ll take the gremlins for a walk.” 

Fertilizer recipes? Jesus Christ. Last month the only thing Noah had to worry about was Adam and a pair of binoculars. Now he thought he was some kind of plant PI. 

Noah forced himself to smile. “Okay, I’ll find a movie we can watch while we eat.” 

Adam gave him a pervy look, waggling his eyebrows. “Fine, but the only thing I’m eating after dinner is you.” 

Noah snorted out a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll hold you to that.” 

Once he was alone in the bedroom, he frantically toggled to WhatsApp creating a group with all of the family but Adam. 

Noah: There’s something wrong with Adam.