![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blue_soaringI'm gonna end this year exactly how I intend to live the new--with booze, porn, and a stubborn refusal to accept responsibility for ANYTHING. This is for the shameless enablers on Twitter, rivers_bend, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sulwen, no_detective and like, THE REST OF YOU.
Warning: written while intoxicated. Posted while even more so.
Give you some of my good time
Glamdom. Adam Lambert/Tommy Joe Ratliff. NC-17. ~3100 words. For this fingering prompt on glam_kink.
"For real?" Adam says, stupefied, words tumbling over one another he's in such a hurry to get them out, like the whole thing is flat-out inconceivable. "Nobody's ever fingered you?"
*
Give you some of my good time
"She calls it Lil' Dil," Isaac says, complete with air quotes.
Tommy snorts beer. He choke-laughs his way through Isaac patting his back, flipping off Sasha as she hoots and howls at him. Once he's got his breath back, he stares wistfully into the bus's muted track lighting and sighs, "Lucky fucker."
"Little!" Isaac shouts, flinging up another set of manic quotes.
Terrence takes a considering swig from the bottle of vodka on the table instead of the drink in his hand. "Maybe she's talking compared to you. S'a compliment, right there." He wiggles his eyebrows.
"It's like riding a fucking baseball bat," Isaac mutters.
Flicking a bottle cap at Isaac's head, Tommy says, "Quit your bitchin'. At least your girl'll fuck you. Hey," he adds, sitting bolt upright, "hey, does she have a sister? Cousin? Aunt?"
"Married," Isaac happily says.
"I can do an open fucking relationship if it'll get somebody's fingers up my goddamn ass!"
"Wow," Adam says from the stairwell, the door hanging halfway open behind him. His eyes are shock-wide, his mouth slack. It's dead quiet for exactly three seconds, and then everybody is dying, laughing so hard they're drowning out the tunes playing over the bus's pretty killer sound system while Adam just stands there, dazed and bemused. Through it all, somebody--Terrence, Tommy thinks, and maybe Taylor--manages to fill Adam in on Tommy's relationship woes.
"For real?" Adam says, stupefied, words tumbling over one another he's in such a hurry to get them out, like the whole thing is flat-out inconceivable. Hell, in his world, it probably is. "Nobody's ever fingered you? Even after you asked?"
"Nope." Tommy downs a mouthful of beer and wriggles his fingers. "This right here is the only action my ass ever gets."
"If we're going to talk about Tommy's ass all night again," Monte rumbles from behind Adam, hidden from sight so Tommy's not really sure how long he's been standing there, "I'm gonna need more beer," and he thumps down the stairs to get it.
"Ass, ass, ass," Sasha says, flapping a hand, "why's it we always end up on ass? What about tits, huh?"
"T&A!" Taylor crows.
"Awesome," Tommy says, pointing two fingers at Sasha around the beer bottle he's holding. "That's what we need. Less ass, more pussy."
"Now I'm gonna need more beer," Adam mumbles.
*
Three hours later, they're all dropping like flies. Terrence and Cam call uncle first, and then it's a steady trickle until it's just Sutan flaked out on a couch with one of Monte's bandanas over his face and Tommy somehow stuck halfway between the floor and Adam's lap. Adam has a mostly finished drink in one hand. Tommy eyeballs it, wondering if it's worth the effort to steal.
"It's water," Adam says.
"Spoilsport." There's this weird buzz thrumming beneath Tommy's drunk. His brain's all worked up but his body's three steps behind. Maybe he's high.
"So, hey," Adam starts.
Tommy lazily refocuses his gaze on Adam's face. Adam's hair is rumpled spikes, like he's been running his hands through it all night. His eyes are dark with liner and a few random black diamond sparkles. No matter how good the remover Sutan's packing is, there's always glitter everywhere. It'll be weird when Tommy finally wakes up again one morning without sparkles in his bellybutton.
When Adam doesn't say anything else, Tommy nudges him with an elbow. "Yeah?"
"I'm drunk," Adam says, laughing shallowly. "Never mind."
"Too late!" Wriggling around, Tommy manages to get more or less vertical. Mostly less. "Spit it out, hot mess."
"It's a bad idea," Adam warns. He flicks a glance at the bottles strewn across the table, the countertops. "Hell, it was a bad idea when I was still sober."
An electric tingle skitters up Tommy's spine. Whatever this is, it's gonna be good. He leans conspiratorially closer. "Yeah?"
Adam closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them again, they're a brighter shade of dark, really fucking intense, and his voice isn't like Tommy's ever heard before. "How hard does it get you off?"
That tingle sparks to a full-out current racing beneath Tommy's skin. He swallows thickly. "Pretty fucking hard."
"Straight boys," Adam says, like a prayer or a curse or a plea, and puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder to steady him before standing. He looks at the glass of water in his hand, the empty liquor bottles. He looks lost, and he's heading for the stairs to his bed before Tommy's got a chance to do more than blink.
The second Adam's out of sight, Tommy jolts into motion. He trips over his own goddamn feet getting to the stairs, then almost kills himself trying to navigate all seven steps, which is probably a good indicator of exactly why he shouldn't do what he's about to do. It's a good thing he isn't in the mood to think with his brain.
Adam doesn't look one bit surprised when Tommy bursts into his room. Tommy stops short, mostly because he didn't get this far in the plan, and a little because, "Shit, forgot the bed was that fucking huge. Fucking orgy-size."
"For a rockstar life." Adam runs a hand through his hair and laughs, nervous and stilted. "Look, I shouldn't have-"
"Left me hanging," Tommy butts in. "Fuckin' right you shouldn't."
Adam's hand drops and his gaze comes up, gets stuck somewhere around Tommy's mouth. "I can't believe somebody'd tell you no."
"Is this you telling me yes? 'Cause fucking seriously, Adam, if you wanna," Tommy's throat clicks weirdly when he pauses to swallow again, "if you really fucking want," and he stops on purpose this time, figures why the fuck use words when going straight to Adam's bed is going to get the message across loud and clear.
But it's like Adam's feet are cemented to the floor. Tommy leans back, propped up on one elbow to pop the button on his jeans. Another one of those electric thrills shoots through him when Adam's mouth opens on a quick intake of air.
"Fuck, Tommy," Adam says, sharp and shuddering. "You wanna know what it's like, want me to show you?"
"Yeah," Tommy says, and fuck, he's hard. He's thinking about Adam fingering him and he's hard. "Yeah, I want you to get your fucking fingers in me."
Adam says something that Tommy can't hear over the thudding of his heart but he figures means something close enough to, "Get your clothes off," for him to start wriggling out of his jeans and shorts. He forgets all about his boots until his jeans get stuck on them, and then Adam's helping, the bottle of lube Adam dug out of a duffle rolling across the mattress to bump into Tommy's arm. Somewhere in the middle of getting Tommy's boots free, Adam hauls off his own shirt. Tommy ends up staring at the freckles marching their way all across his shoulders and down over his chest and belly, and holy fuck, Adam's hard too. Really fucking stupendously hard.
Then Tommy's naked and Adam isn't, and Adam's hands are pushing Tommy's knees up and wide. There's fucking lube glistening on Adam's fingers, all four of 'em, and those fingers are about ten seconds away from shoving up into Tommy's ass.
Tommy groans a seriously heartfelt, "Oh, fuck," and plants his feet more solidly on the bed in a useless attempt to get his legs to stop trembling. He wasn't just shooting the shit when he told Isaac he'd never gotten himself off so good until he tried fingering while jacking it. The weird, thick pressure, the ache when he'd gone too much too fast, the fucking atom bomb explosion when he'd hit his prostate just right. He's had one girlfriend he honestly thought would've gone for it. She had these gorgeous hands, long, slim fingers he'd loved, shockingly strong when she'd wrap them around his dick, and once, just once when he was fucking her, he'd sucked on them and gotten the balls to ask her to go for it.
The look she gave him isn't anything close to the one Adam's giving him now. Two slick fingers rub over his hole, a tiny tease that makes him moan. He's so turned on it's insane.
"God, the way you sound," Adam says, and runs a hand up over Tommy's balls, his belly, back down again. "You really fucking want this."
"No shit, yeah," Tommy spits, clenching a fist in the bedsheets. "I really fucking want you to do this, c'mon, stop teasing, don't tease, you're right fucking there," and he breaks off on a groan, shuddering as the pressure goes from outside to in, a slow, steady burn that's too perfect to be anything less than two of Adam's fingers pushing up into him.
"Knew you could take it," Adam slurs around a kiss to the inside of Tommy's knee. "Baby, you are so ready for this, so fucking hot."
Tommy hisses, "Could've fucking told you that." Adam's fingers are crooked, pressing against his insides, sliding in deep and out again, stretching the rim of his hole. Then back in deep, way further than he's ever gotten on his own and his toes are fucking curling, stomach jittering with heavy, hazy pleasure. He hasn't even touched his dick yet.
"You like that, baby?" Adam asks, going in hard and fast, making Tommy's hips jerk up off the bed. Tommy shakily flips him off, because what a fucking stupid question, and then Adam's other hand is on his hip, guiding him down into a slow roll onto Adam's fingers, back up again. One more time and Tommy picks up the rhythm on his own, grinding down on Adam's hand while Adam's whispers go from sweet and dirty to all-out nasty, heating his face and his blood because yeah, turns out he really likes getting fucked up the ass.
He goes for his cock, really needing to get the hell off right now, but Adam catches his hand, pins it to the bed. "Don't," Adam says, riding the edge of well and truly breathless, "trust me, baby, it's gonna get better."
Tommy opens his mouth to ask How the fuck?, but Adam goes from two fingers buried deep to the thick knot of four stretching him wide and a long, thready whine comes out instead. One of his feet comes up off the bed to plant squarely on Adam's shoulder. He's not sure what the hell he meant to do, but the shift in pressure makes it go from an amazing too-much to beyond-all-fucking-words. His calf slides over Adam's shoulder as he hauls the other leg up, opening himself up completely with his knees splayed wide and Adam crawling up closer between his legs to take his weight.
And then Adam says, "Oh my god, Tommy, I want to fuck you so bad."
Every last scrap of air goes flying out of Tommy's lungs. He blurts, "Fuck, do it, do it, put your fucking dick in me and do it," and it's not that he's so far gone he isn't even thinking anymore. All he's doing is thinking about it, the heat and the pressure, what it would be like to get fucked for real, to have Adam shoving up inside him, nail him straight through the goddam mattress until he went off like a fucking firecracker.
"Can't," Adam gasps, leaning over him, their mouths open and touching but they're not kissing, can't stay still long enough to manage it. Adam's really fucking him now, fingers driving in hard and quick and deep, sweet dirty slap of skin on skin to match the broken rhythm of his voice. "Didn't get a condom. Don't wanna stop. You're so fucking close, baby. You're gonna come on my fingers, aren't you, gonna make me wish it was my cock. Weren't lying when you said how it got you off, c'mon, sweetheart, lemme feel how much you love it."
Tommy breathes in every crackling word. They zip like fucked-up little lightning bugs through his brain and down his spine, spiral tight around the pressure built up low in his belly. His vision starts to go at the corners and he squeezes his eyes shut, clenches his teeth, tries to make the orgasm ready to rip through him back the fuck off.
Adam licks at his mouth, one tiny little flick, and that's all it takes to fucking ruin him. Sucker-punch pleasure arches him up off the bed, clamping his throat tight on what he's seriously fucking sure would've been a scream as he comes, and Adam's fingers slip impossibly deeper, fill him up all the way so he can feel his body clenching tight around them.
Eons later, Adam's short, shaky breaths hot on his throat, Tommy manages to peel his eyes open. "Fucking gay messiah," Tommy croaks, and bumps Adam's ass with his heel. "Get a rubber."
Adam's unsteady laugh chokes off. "What, no."
"Get a goddamn condom," Tommy bites out, his body still humming, aching, even though there's come smeared all over his stomach, Adam's. Adam just grunts, not moving fast enough, or even at all, so Tommy gropes for Adam's cock, finds it as hard as it was when they started, and squeezes roughly.
Adam grunts again, startled. "You already came. Just let me," he says, trying to fumble through Tommy's grip like he means to jack himself off.
"You wanna fuck me," Tommy says, not bothering to make it a question. "Got me all opened up, ready, and you're not gonna? What the fuck is that?" He jerks Adam's zip open, shoves a hand in. It's weird and shocking to get his hand wrapped around somebody else's naked dick, and hot. Really motherfucking hot. It takes him a minute, and he scrapes his knuckles on the teeth of Adam's zipper, but he gets Adam's cock hauled out, nestled up thick and snug in the slick mess of lube on his ass.
Adam shivers, jerks when Tommy rubs the head over his hole. "God, Tommy," he groans, shaking with the effort of holding back. "Be fucking careful."
"Jacket or no jacket," Tommy says, and fuck if he doesn't wish he could say it's the booze talking, or the pot, not his own fucked up want, "baby, you are fucking me right the hell now."
Letting out a tortured groan, Adam fumbles for his back pocket, hauls out his wallet. He drops it before he can get one of the foil packets out and Tommy grins, starts jacking Adam's cock slow and easy.
"Just, just give me a fucking minute," Adam says, his voice this really awesome combination of turned on and miserable. But he's still taking too long, so Tommy gets at the rubber before he does. Turns out rolling a condom on another guy's dick is about as strange as Tommy thought it would be, but it's pretty fucking amazing too. He wriggles down the bed, getting his legs back up, stomach all twisted up with nerves and anticipation. He's gonna get fucked.
"You are so gonna get fucked," Adam agrees, and for a split second, right when he lines up, the head of his cock blunt pressure about to push up into Tommy, the anticipation flips over to giddy fear.
Tommy's breath freezes in his throat.
Adam says, "Breathe out slow for me, sweetheart," and Tommy listens by habit, instinct, and then all that tight, gritty pressure is back, Adam's cock opening him up, pushing inside, filling him all the way nice and steady and easy. His grip goes hard on Adam's arms, muscle jumping beneath his fingertips as Adam eases back, thrusts in.
"Fuck," Tommy says, blinking his vision back into focus. Adam's hair is hanging down low over his forehead, heavy and damp, and the black of his pupils is blown wide fucking open, irises drowning. Tommy's gaze slides down to where Adam's jeans are hanging off his hips, to where Adam is fucking up into him between the wide spread of his thighs. This is nothing at all like getting fingered. "Jesusfuck."
"Yeah," Adam says, panting, the hard snap of his hips jolting Tommy up further on the bed. Tommy flings up a hand to brace flat against the wall and Adam groans, fucks harder, rising up on his knees and pressing down, fucking trying to fold Tommy in half as his hand goes tight on the back of Tommy's thigh. The whole world swims as all the air is steadily squeezed out of Tommy's chest on a slow, leaking moan. His leg twitches in Adam's grip.
Somehow, Tommy manages to ask, "Gonna come?" He scrapes his lip with his teeth when Adam's eyes flash open, and then he's babbling like some crazy addict, "Just fucking blow your load in me, really fuck me up, Adam, not gonna, fuck, not gonna get fucking over this, ever, gonna want more, want you to give it to me-"
"God, shut up, Tommy Joe," Adam groans, and drops down to one elbow, hand fisted in Tommy's hair, yanking his head back, exposing his throat. "Fucking- Fucking straight boys, you're not even hard, you're drunk, high as a fucking kite."
"'Cause you already fucking made me come, asshole!"
Teeth clamp down hard on Tommy's neck, rough and mean, and razor pleasure slices Tommy to the core, almost too much to take. He bucks up into it, into Adam, his whole system battered to fucking hell and his body clamping down around the thick heat of Adam's cock shoved up inside him. If he could, he's sure he'd be coming again right the hell now, and it knocks him for such a total loop that he misses the exact second Adam goes off. He clues in pretty fucking fast, though, dazedly running both hands up the smooth curve of Adam's back, Adam's muscles and joints locked stiff, mouth slack and open, eyes shut tight, so fucking gorgeous it hurts. He's still staring when Adam's eyes flutter open, and for a minute there, he forgets what it's like to breathe.
Then, pissed right the hell off, he says, "I'm not a fucking three-beer queer. You're gonna be so fucking sorry if you give me this and then cut me off like, cold fucking turkey, you fucking asshole, I swear to fucking fuck."
Adam just stares at him, mouth hanging open.
Tommy thumps his shoulder with a fist. "I'm fucking serious."
"I, uh," Adam starts, and then he drops his head, lets out a helpless laugh. When he looks up again, he's smiling, and there's something shy in it, hopeful. "So, cuddling's in?"
"Cuddling is so fucking in," Tommy says, and right before Adam's mouth closes over his, mutters, "as soon as you get your dick out of my ass. Fucking thing is still huge."
"Aw, baby," Adam says, a sparkle in his eyes to match the ones scattered across his cheeks.
*
End
rivers_bend, sulwen, no_detective and like, THE REST OF YOU.Warning: written while intoxicated. Posted while even more so.
Give you some of my good time
Glamdom. Adam Lambert/Tommy Joe Ratliff. NC-17. ~3100 words. For this fingering prompt on glam_kink.
"For real?" Adam says, stupefied, words tumbling over one another he's in such a hurry to get them out, like the whole thing is flat-out inconceivable. "Nobody's ever fingered you?"
Give you some of my good time
"She calls it Lil' Dil," Isaac says, complete with air quotes.
Tommy snorts beer. He choke-laughs his way through Isaac patting his back, flipping off Sasha as she hoots and howls at him. Once he's got his breath back, he stares wistfully into the bus's muted track lighting and sighs, "Lucky fucker."
"Little!" Isaac shouts, flinging up another set of manic quotes.
Terrence takes a considering swig from the bottle of vodka on the table instead of the drink in his hand. "Maybe she's talking compared to you. S'a compliment, right there." He wiggles his eyebrows.
"It's like riding a fucking baseball bat," Isaac mutters.
Flicking a bottle cap at Isaac's head, Tommy says, "Quit your bitchin'. At least your girl'll fuck you. Hey," he adds, sitting bolt upright, "hey, does she have a sister? Cousin? Aunt?"
"Married," Isaac happily says.
"I can do an open fucking relationship if it'll get somebody's fingers up my goddamn ass!"
"Wow," Adam says from the stairwell, the door hanging halfway open behind him. His eyes are shock-wide, his mouth slack. It's dead quiet for exactly three seconds, and then everybody is dying, laughing so hard they're drowning out the tunes playing over the bus's pretty killer sound system while Adam just stands there, dazed and bemused. Through it all, somebody--Terrence, Tommy thinks, and maybe Taylor--manages to fill Adam in on Tommy's relationship woes.
"For real?" Adam says, stupefied, words tumbling over one another he's in such a hurry to get them out, like the whole thing is flat-out inconceivable. Hell, in his world, it probably is. "Nobody's ever fingered you? Even after you asked?"
"Nope." Tommy downs a mouthful of beer and wriggles his fingers. "This right here is the only action my ass ever gets."
"If we're going to talk about Tommy's ass all night again," Monte rumbles from behind Adam, hidden from sight so Tommy's not really sure how long he's been standing there, "I'm gonna need more beer," and he thumps down the stairs to get it.
"Ass, ass, ass," Sasha says, flapping a hand, "why's it we always end up on ass? What about tits, huh?"
"T&A!" Taylor crows.
"Awesome," Tommy says, pointing two fingers at Sasha around the beer bottle he's holding. "That's what we need. Less ass, more pussy."
"Now I'm gonna need more beer," Adam mumbles.
Three hours later, they're all dropping like flies. Terrence and Cam call uncle first, and then it's a steady trickle until it's just Sutan flaked out on a couch with one of Monte's bandanas over his face and Tommy somehow stuck halfway between the floor and Adam's lap. Adam has a mostly finished drink in one hand. Tommy eyeballs it, wondering if it's worth the effort to steal.
"It's water," Adam says.
"Spoilsport." There's this weird buzz thrumming beneath Tommy's drunk. His brain's all worked up but his body's three steps behind. Maybe he's high.
"So, hey," Adam starts.
Tommy lazily refocuses his gaze on Adam's face. Adam's hair is rumpled spikes, like he's been running his hands through it all night. His eyes are dark with liner and a few random black diamond sparkles. No matter how good the remover Sutan's packing is, there's always glitter everywhere. It'll be weird when Tommy finally wakes up again one morning without sparkles in his bellybutton.
When Adam doesn't say anything else, Tommy nudges him with an elbow. "Yeah?"
"I'm drunk," Adam says, laughing shallowly. "Never mind."
"Too late!" Wriggling around, Tommy manages to get more or less vertical. Mostly less. "Spit it out, hot mess."
"It's a bad idea," Adam warns. He flicks a glance at the bottles strewn across the table, the countertops. "Hell, it was a bad idea when I was still sober."
An electric tingle skitters up Tommy's spine. Whatever this is, it's gonna be good. He leans conspiratorially closer. "Yeah?"
Adam closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them again, they're a brighter shade of dark, really fucking intense, and his voice isn't like Tommy's ever heard before. "How hard does it get you off?"
That tingle sparks to a full-out current racing beneath Tommy's skin. He swallows thickly. "Pretty fucking hard."
"Straight boys," Adam says, like a prayer or a curse or a plea, and puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder to steady him before standing. He looks at the glass of water in his hand, the empty liquor bottles. He looks lost, and he's heading for the stairs to his bed before Tommy's got a chance to do more than blink.
The second Adam's out of sight, Tommy jolts into motion. He trips over his own goddamn feet getting to the stairs, then almost kills himself trying to navigate all seven steps, which is probably a good indicator of exactly why he shouldn't do what he's about to do. It's a good thing he isn't in the mood to think with his brain.
Adam doesn't look one bit surprised when Tommy bursts into his room. Tommy stops short, mostly because he didn't get this far in the plan, and a little because, "Shit, forgot the bed was that fucking huge. Fucking orgy-size."
"For a rockstar life." Adam runs a hand through his hair and laughs, nervous and stilted. "Look, I shouldn't have-"
"Left me hanging," Tommy butts in. "Fuckin' right you shouldn't."
Adam's hand drops and his gaze comes up, gets stuck somewhere around Tommy's mouth. "I can't believe somebody'd tell you no."
"Is this you telling me yes? 'Cause fucking seriously, Adam, if you wanna," Tommy's throat clicks weirdly when he pauses to swallow again, "if you really fucking want," and he stops on purpose this time, figures why the fuck use words when going straight to Adam's bed is going to get the message across loud and clear.
But it's like Adam's feet are cemented to the floor. Tommy leans back, propped up on one elbow to pop the button on his jeans. Another one of those electric thrills shoots through him when Adam's mouth opens on a quick intake of air.
"Fuck, Tommy," Adam says, sharp and shuddering. "You wanna know what it's like, want me to show you?"
"Yeah," Tommy says, and fuck, he's hard. He's thinking about Adam fingering him and he's hard. "Yeah, I want you to get your fucking fingers in me."
Adam says something that Tommy can't hear over the thudding of his heart but he figures means something close enough to, "Get your clothes off," for him to start wriggling out of his jeans and shorts. He forgets all about his boots until his jeans get stuck on them, and then Adam's helping, the bottle of lube Adam dug out of a duffle rolling across the mattress to bump into Tommy's arm. Somewhere in the middle of getting Tommy's boots free, Adam hauls off his own shirt. Tommy ends up staring at the freckles marching their way all across his shoulders and down over his chest and belly, and holy fuck, Adam's hard too. Really fucking stupendously hard.
Then Tommy's naked and Adam isn't, and Adam's hands are pushing Tommy's knees up and wide. There's fucking lube glistening on Adam's fingers, all four of 'em, and those fingers are about ten seconds away from shoving up into Tommy's ass.
Tommy groans a seriously heartfelt, "Oh, fuck," and plants his feet more solidly on the bed in a useless attempt to get his legs to stop trembling. He wasn't just shooting the shit when he told Isaac he'd never gotten himself off so good until he tried fingering while jacking it. The weird, thick pressure, the ache when he'd gone too much too fast, the fucking atom bomb explosion when he'd hit his prostate just right. He's had one girlfriend he honestly thought would've gone for it. She had these gorgeous hands, long, slim fingers he'd loved, shockingly strong when she'd wrap them around his dick, and once, just once when he was fucking her, he'd sucked on them and gotten the balls to ask her to go for it.
The look she gave him isn't anything close to the one Adam's giving him now. Two slick fingers rub over his hole, a tiny tease that makes him moan. He's so turned on it's insane.
"God, the way you sound," Adam says, and runs a hand up over Tommy's balls, his belly, back down again. "You really fucking want this."
"No shit, yeah," Tommy spits, clenching a fist in the bedsheets. "I really fucking want you to do this, c'mon, stop teasing, don't tease, you're right fucking there," and he breaks off on a groan, shuddering as the pressure goes from outside to in, a slow, steady burn that's too perfect to be anything less than two of Adam's fingers pushing up into him.
"Knew you could take it," Adam slurs around a kiss to the inside of Tommy's knee. "Baby, you are so ready for this, so fucking hot."
Tommy hisses, "Could've fucking told you that." Adam's fingers are crooked, pressing against his insides, sliding in deep and out again, stretching the rim of his hole. Then back in deep, way further than he's ever gotten on his own and his toes are fucking curling, stomach jittering with heavy, hazy pleasure. He hasn't even touched his dick yet.
"You like that, baby?" Adam asks, going in hard and fast, making Tommy's hips jerk up off the bed. Tommy shakily flips him off, because what a fucking stupid question, and then Adam's other hand is on his hip, guiding him down into a slow roll onto Adam's fingers, back up again. One more time and Tommy picks up the rhythm on his own, grinding down on Adam's hand while Adam's whispers go from sweet and dirty to all-out nasty, heating his face and his blood because yeah, turns out he really likes getting fucked up the ass.
He goes for his cock, really needing to get the hell off right now, but Adam catches his hand, pins it to the bed. "Don't," Adam says, riding the edge of well and truly breathless, "trust me, baby, it's gonna get better."
Tommy opens his mouth to ask How the fuck?, but Adam goes from two fingers buried deep to the thick knot of four stretching him wide and a long, thready whine comes out instead. One of his feet comes up off the bed to plant squarely on Adam's shoulder. He's not sure what the hell he meant to do, but the shift in pressure makes it go from an amazing too-much to beyond-all-fucking-words. His calf slides over Adam's shoulder as he hauls the other leg up, opening himself up completely with his knees splayed wide and Adam crawling up closer between his legs to take his weight.
And then Adam says, "Oh my god, Tommy, I want to fuck you so bad."
Every last scrap of air goes flying out of Tommy's lungs. He blurts, "Fuck, do it, do it, put your fucking dick in me and do it," and it's not that he's so far gone he isn't even thinking anymore. All he's doing is thinking about it, the heat and the pressure, what it would be like to get fucked for real, to have Adam shoving up inside him, nail him straight through the goddam mattress until he went off like a fucking firecracker.
"Can't," Adam gasps, leaning over him, their mouths open and touching but they're not kissing, can't stay still long enough to manage it. Adam's really fucking him now, fingers driving in hard and quick and deep, sweet dirty slap of skin on skin to match the broken rhythm of his voice. "Didn't get a condom. Don't wanna stop. You're so fucking close, baby. You're gonna come on my fingers, aren't you, gonna make me wish it was my cock. Weren't lying when you said how it got you off, c'mon, sweetheart, lemme feel how much you love it."
Tommy breathes in every crackling word. They zip like fucked-up little lightning bugs through his brain and down his spine, spiral tight around the pressure built up low in his belly. His vision starts to go at the corners and he squeezes his eyes shut, clenches his teeth, tries to make the orgasm ready to rip through him back the fuck off.
Adam licks at his mouth, one tiny little flick, and that's all it takes to fucking ruin him. Sucker-punch pleasure arches him up off the bed, clamping his throat tight on what he's seriously fucking sure would've been a scream as he comes, and Adam's fingers slip impossibly deeper, fill him up all the way so he can feel his body clenching tight around them.
Eons later, Adam's short, shaky breaths hot on his throat, Tommy manages to peel his eyes open. "Fucking gay messiah," Tommy croaks, and bumps Adam's ass with his heel. "Get a rubber."
Adam's unsteady laugh chokes off. "What, no."
"Get a goddamn condom," Tommy bites out, his body still humming, aching, even though there's come smeared all over his stomach, Adam's. Adam just grunts, not moving fast enough, or even at all, so Tommy gropes for Adam's cock, finds it as hard as it was when they started, and squeezes roughly.
Adam grunts again, startled. "You already came. Just let me," he says, trying to fumble through Tommy's grip like he means to jack himself off.
"You wanna fuck me," Tommy says, not bothering to make it a question. "Got me all opened up, ready, and you're not gonna? What the fuck is that?" He jerks Adam's zip open, shoves a hand in. It's weird and shocking to get his hand wrapped around somebody else's naked dick, and hot. Really motherfucking hot. It takes him a minute, and he scrapes his knuckles on the teeth of Adam's zipper, but he gets Adam's cock hauled out, nestled up thick and snug in the slick mess of lube on his ass.
Adam shivers, jerks when Tommy rubs the head over his hole. "God, Tommy," he groans, shaking with the effort of holding back. "Be fucking careful."
"Jacket or no jacket," Tommy says, and fuck if he doesn't wish he could say it's the booze talking, or the pot, not his own fucked up want, "baby, you are fucking me right the hell now."
Letting out a tortured groan, Adam fumbles for his back pocket, hauls out his wallet. He drops it before he can get one of the foil packets out and Tommy grins, starts jacking Adam's cock slow and easy.
"Just, just give me a fucking minute," Adam says, his voice this really awesome combination of turned on and miserable. But he's still taking too long, so Tommy gets at the rubber before he does. Turns out rolling a condom on another guy's dick is about as strange as Tommy thought it would be, but it's pretty fucking amazing too. He wriggles down the bed, getting his legs back up, stomach all twisted up with nerves and anticipation. He's gonna get fucked.
"You are so gonna get fucked," Adam agrees, and for a split second, right when he lines up, the head of his cock blunt pressure about to push up into Tommy, the anticipation flips over to giddy fear.
Tommy's breath freezes in his throat.
Adam says, "Breathe out slow for me, sweetheart," and Tommy listens by habit, instinct, and then all that tight, gritty pressure is back, Adam's cock opening him up, pushing inside, filling him all the way nice and steady and easy. His grip goes hard on Adam's arms, muscle jumping beneath his fingertips as Adam eases back, thrusts in.
"Fuck," Tommy says, blinking his vision back into focus. Adam's hair is hanging down low over his forehead, heavy and damp, and the black of his pupils is blown wide fucking open, irises drowning. Tommy's gaze slides down to where Adam's jeans are hanging off his hips, to where Adam is fucking up into him between the wide spread of his thighs. This is nothing at all like getting fingered. "Jesusfuck."
"Yeah," Adam says, panting, the hard snap of his hips jolting Tommy up further on the bed. Tommy flings up a hand to brace flat against the wall and Adam groans, fucks harder, rising up on his knees and pressing down, fucking trying to fold Tommy in half as his hand goes tight on the back of Tommy's thigh. The whole world swims as all the air is steadily squeezed out of Tommy's chest on a slow, leaking moan. His leg twitches in Adam's grip.
Somehow, Tommy manages to ask, "Gonna come?" He scrapes his lip with his teeth when Adam's eyes flash open, and then he's babbling like some crazy addict, "Just fucking blow your load in me, really fuck me up, Adam, not gonna, fuck, not gonna get fucking over this, ever, gonna want more, want you to give it to me-"
"God, shut up, Tommy Joe," Adam groans, and drops down to one elbow, hand fisted in Tommy's hair, yanking his head back, exposing his throat. "Fucking- Fucking straight boys, you're not even hard, you're drunk, high as a fucking kite."
"'Cause you already fucking made me come, asshole!"
Teeth clamp down hard on Tommy's neck, rough and mean, and razor pleasure slices Tommy to the core, almost too much to take. He bucks up into it, into Adam, his whole system battered to fucking hell and his body clamping down around the thick heat of Adam's cock shoved up inside him. If he could, he's sure he'd be coming again right the hell now, and it knocks him for such a total loop that he misses the exact second Adam goes off. He clues in pretty fucking fast, though, dazedly running both hands up the smooth curve of Adam's back, Adam's muscles and joints locked stiff, mouth slack and open, eyes shut tight, so fucking gorgeous it hurts. He's still staring when Adam's eyes flutter open, and for a minute there, he forgets what it's like to breathe.
Then, pissed right the hell off, he says, "I'm not a fucking three-beer queer. You're gonna be so fucking sorry if you give me this and then cut me off like, cold fucking turkey, you fucking asshole, I swear to fucking fuck."
Adam just stares at him, mouth hanging open.
Tommy thumps his shoulder with a fist. "I'm fucking serious."
"I, uh," Adam starts, and then he drops his head, lets out a helpless laugh. When he looks up again, he's smiling, and there's something shy in it, hopeful. "So, cuddling's in?"
"Cuddling is so fucking in," Tommy says, and right before Adam's mouth closes over his, mutters, "as soon as you get your dick out of my ass. Fucking thing is still huge."
"Aw, baby," Adam says, a sparkle in his eyes to match the ones scattered across his cheeks.
End
