Drive You 'til You Feel the Daylight: Five
"You seem better," says Adam, one morning. They're on the bus, somewhere bright and cold where Tommy doesn't speak the language and doesn't like the food. He's planning on not leaving Adam's bed until they get to the venue, and then getting straight back in it after the show. Tommy wasn't built for snow.
"Was I bad?' says Tommy sleepily. It's not the words he meant, but Adam smiles, close up, and touches his hair.
"No. You were something, I dunno what. Like you were all off balance." Adam wrinkles his nose. "Except not. I can't explain it."
"Better now," says Tommy. The little curtain behind the bed is half-open, and the light coming in is white, reflecting off the snow.
"Mm," Adam agrees. He reaches out to touch Tommy again, and it's a moment before Tommy realises that Adam's hand has curled around his wrist like a cuff, that Adam's asking him something.
"What about you?" he says instead. "You're not better. Tired all'a time."
"Over stretched," says Adam. "I'm okay, I bounce back. I'm bouncy."
"Weebles wobble," Tommy agrees. With his free hand, he touches the skin under Adam's eyes gently. He's as pale and wan as a consumptive Austen heroine, but he smiles at Tommy's tsking.
"Hey," says Tommy and kisses him, which is a stupid idea for making him feel better, but will probably go down better than "How about I give you a blowjob that will melt your brain" which is his current go-to cheer-up strategy.
Adam lets himself be kissed, which is new, and Tommy finds himself shy. But maybe that's it, maybe that's what Adam needs, is for somebody else to give him something. He slides his tongue into Adam's mouth and kisses like he means it, presses him back onto the bed and sprawls across his chest and just gives him all he's got, Adam spread wide and accepting under him, one hand still anchored around Tommy's wrist.
Later, the road still rolling under them, Adam draw his fingertips lazily down Tommy's spine over his tshirt, making him shiver and arch. "Is that what you wanted?" he asks, his voice husky.
"Mmm," says Tommy, snuggled into Adam's chest. "That was nice. Did it make you feel better?" Adam snorts, and Tommy lifts his head so he can look at him. "What?"
"Babe, you shouldn't do shit like that just because you think it'll make me feel good."
Tommy frowns. "You didn't like it?" Adam had seemed to like it, if the press of his cock up against Tommy's belly had been any indication. Tommy had vaguely considered doing something about it, but it had felt too good, kissing Adam and rubbing against him, lazy and not in any hurry. His own arousal had been something of a surprise, a pleasant one, and Adam had laughed when he'd felt it, delighted, and pulled him closer.
"I did like it," says Adam, sliding his fingers through the shorter hair at Tommy's nape. "You know I like kissing you. Did you like it?"
"Yes," says Tommy immediately.
Adam's chest expands with his breath, and slowly sinks again. "So what brought this on?" he asks. "Just felt like a bit of loving?"
Tommy doesn't answer for a while, draws absent patterns on Adam's belly until Adam catches his hand and presses it still. "I just wanted to," he says eventually. "Is that okay?"
"Sure," says Adam softly. "Is there - is there anything else you want, baby?"
There's a long, still moment in which Tommy is suddenly and sharply aware of his own body, cradled in the lee of Adam's arms, of the sweet ache in his still-hard cock, his hungry skin.
"Yes," he says.
&&&&&
But there isn't any time for what Tommy wants; before long, they arrive at the venue, and they have to leave the warmth of Adam's bed for the outside chill.
They're the last ones off the bus, and Adam grabs him just inside the door and kisses him gently, holding Tommys' face between his palms. "We'll talk later," he promises, and Tommy nods and goes up on his toes enough to kiss Adam's mouth again, marvelling that he's allowed, with nobody watching, nobody to please but himself.
The pre-show stuff goes as always, with the new added complication of having stagehands and hosts who don't necessarily speak English or understand it to deal with. Tommy's twitchy and distracted, finding himself with blank periods in the afternoon when he's got nothing to do and nowhere to be. Sasha catches his eye and he realises those dull patches are usually when he would be pulling somebody aside into a closet or and office or even just a fold of the thick stage curtain.
But he isn't, today.
Cam's the one who catches up with him, once Adam's gone off to do the meet-and-greet. She sits down by him on the ratty couch in the green room, tipping into his side and just sitting there, quiet and calm. Her solid presence eases Tommy's jitters. If it had been anybody else, it might not have worked, but Cam is so steady, so dependable. She feels like Adam, a little, to talk with.
"How's your day going?" she says after a while.
"Good." He chews on his thumbnail. "Adam, uh."
She hums a little, slings an arm around his shoulders. "I thought he wasn't part of this."
"He's not," says Tommy, staring at his chewed-up cuticles. "He's. He's something else, I think."
She nods, fiddles with the longer bits of his hair. Tommy waits. She takes her time thinking about things, always, but she tends to arrive at the right place.
"So this changes things," she says slowly. "Yeah?"
He nods, rubs his nose. "Think so."
"Does he know?"
Tommy shakes his head, then shrugs. "I haven't told him. I think he knows - you know, some things. He, um, he saw, after that night in the suite. My arms were all bruised. And he knew something was up. But not, like, um. Details."
"You gonna tell him?"
"Yeah," says Tommy. It hadn't even occurred to him not to tell Adam.
"Well," Cam sighs, "I will not lie to you, my friend. I am going to miss the fuck out of oral sex on demand."
"You guys should set up some sort of time-share arrangement," Tommy suggests. "Help each other out."
She pulls his hair. "You let us worry about that," she tells him. "Not your job anymore."
He smiles and tucks his face into the curve of her neck, where she smells of earth and sweat and girl. Maybe he's going to miss that scent, and the softness of curves and the way Cam's hair falls against his neck. Not Cam specifically, but girls, maybe.
On the other hand, Adam.
"Do you want me to tell the others?" Cam asks.
"Nah," says Tommy. "I can. I want to."
Terrance laughs and claps him on the back; Sasha pouts; Brooke hides a smile behind her hand. But Taylor goes red and scowls and storms off without a word, and there isn't time for Tommy to go after him.
"He's a little in love with you, poor pet," says Sutan, carefully applying glitter to the corner of Tommy's eye.
"Oh, damn it." He should have been more careful with Taylor; he's so young, feels things so hard.
"Should've seen that one coming," says Isaac, perched on top of a filing cabinet. He's twirling a drumstick in his fingers, having taken Tommy's announcement with the same laconic ease he took everything.
"Fuck you," says Tommy. "How was I meant to know, anyway."
Sutan pats him on the head, sympathetically, and Isaac drums out a rhythm with his heels against the cabinet.
"I have to talk to him," says Tommy.
"Talk to who?" says Adam, from the door. He's in full glam-mode, costumed and painted like some alien god.
"Taylor," says Tommy. "Tell you later, okay?" He can feel a smile spreading on his face, goofy, and Sutan sighs and tuts as his brush slips, but leaves with a wink at Adam and a kiss to Tommy's temple. Isaac dismounts with a thud and brushes by Tommy on his way out, pauses to bump fists with Adam, and then they're alone.
"You told them," says Adam, coming to stand behind Tommy. Tommy tilts his head way back against Adam chest and looks up at him.
"Yeah."
"Really?" Adam sounds absurdly pleased. "You're really okay with them knowing?"
"Uh-huh," says Tommy. "You gonna kiss me tonight?"
"Am I gonna - you shit," says Adam. "You little shit. I'm gonna eat your fucking face off." His slides his hand down to cup Tommy's tilted-up chin.
"Then let's do it," says Tommy, grinning.
The show is awesome. Adam does, as promised, eat his fucking face off, to the extent he drops the first verse of Fever and has to scramble to catch up with the dancers for the chorus. He's wild and seductive, making that big-ass voice of his do fucking backflips, groping Tommy at every opportunity. For the encore, he goes for a performance of 20th Century Boy that has him writhing on the floor, followed up with a sultry-hot acoustic Whole Lotta Love that makes a couple of women in the front row faint and leaves Tommy's hands a bit shaky.
He makes a half-assed effort after the show to track down Taylor, but it's a hotel night, so they're only on the bus for twenty minutes, and when they hit the hotel, Adam's sliding his fingers along the small of Tommy's back and smiling at him all hopeful, so Tommy resolves to find Taylor tomorrow some time.
Adam's got the penthouse suite, of course, so after the others get off the red-carpeted wood-panelled elevator he and Adam are alone, and Adam presses him up against the wood panelling and kisses him, gentle teasing nips along his jaw.
"You gonna treat me right?" says Tommy, breathless.
"Baby, I'm gonna be so good to you," Adam murmurs. "Tell me you want this, okay? Keep telling me."
"I want this," Tommy tells him, as the elevator chimes and the doors slide open. "Come on, move your ass, I want you naked."
The hotel isn't super-swanky, but the penthouse suite is kind of cute: all cream and wood with an open fire making it cosy-warm, big bay windows overlooking the snowy city, a wide four poster bed with thick coverings and red curtains. Tommy crashes onto it face-down, makes a delighted noise, and flops onto his back.
"I would sleep with you just so I could pass out in this bed after," he declares.
Adam's face appears in his line of vision. "You can pass out here even if you don't sleep with me," he says.
"Stop trying to give me an out," says Tommy, yanking him down. "Just. Just, would you please."
Adam hums and nuzzles his throat, slips his fingers under Tommy's jacket. Then under his sweater. After a minute of fiddling, he says, "Jesus, how many layers are you wearing?"
"I don't have much body fat," says Tommy. "I'm warmer this way." He sits up to shuck his jacket; Adam makes a happy little sound and grabs at his hoodie, which is quickly joined on the floor by his second hoodie, a thin sweater, a henley, and an old Metallica tshirt, leaving Tommy shivering on the bed in his undershirt.
"I thought you felt a little bulkier," says Adam, and Tommy frowns and tugs at Adam's clothes fretfully.
Adam being Adam, he gets distracted halfway through undressing by Tommy's nipples, visibly hardening through his thin shirt, and he abandons undressing in favour of kissing Tommy again, rubbing his knuckles over the stiffened peaks curiously. "Cold?" he asks against Tommy's mouth.
"Not exactly," Tommy replies. "Fuck, Jesus, hang on. Lemme get my shirt off, okay?"
"Oh, can I play with 'em?" says Adam, like it's Christmas. "Shit, I bet you're all sensitive, aren't you."
"Find out," says Tommy. "Come on, and you," and he grapples with Adam's clothes for a minute, pulling off a sweater and a shirt and maybe some necklaces in a tangle that Adam gets stuck in, emerges ruffled and pink-faced.
"God," says Adam and then Tommy's being kissed again, really properly kissed, dipped back into the thick soft pillows and held down by Adam's broad bare chest and totally plundered as Adam's hands wander over his body.
And Adam's hands are doing something to him, settling him, centring him. It's like everywhere Adam touches him, Tommy's a little more aware of himself, that the skin Adam's touching his skin, all over, the hands clenching in Adam's shoulder are Tommy's, the muscles and bones and the breath in his lungs and when Adam bends his head to bite at Tommy's nipple, yes, the pleasure singing through him is Tommy's too.
"You want this," says Adam, not like a question. His breath is hot on Tommy's skin, his damp nipple.
"Yes," says Tommy. "Yeah, I fuckin' want this." His slides his fingers in Adam's hair. "Come on, touch me. Please."
Adam ducks his head, smiling. "Anything for you," he says, hand already sliding low, Tommy's belly, the sagging waistband of his jeans. "Anything you want, baby, just tell me. Gonna make you feel." He cups Tommy's cock through the denim and Tommy surges up, beautiful, helpless.
"Yes," he hisses. "Yeah, do it."
He's glad of Adam's steady hands, that get him unzipped and halfway out of his jeans. He manages a shaky laugh at not taking his boots off, having to stop and unlace himself before he can get the rest of the way naked, then sits, feeling skinny and small, while Adam strips himself bare with what seems like an inhuman level of grace and returns to the bed, golden-gorgeous in the firelight.
"What do you want?" says Adam, and kisses him before he can answer, his hands confident and bold: Tommy's chest, his belly, his ass and thighs.
"Touch me," Tommy begs. "Adam, fuck, your hands, please."
"Mmm." Adam's hand closes over his cock, warm and sudden, bigger and softer than Tommy's when he touches himself. Tommy writhes with it, mouth open and panting, and Adam's can't seem to help but kiss him, even as he jerks him off slowly.
"That all, baby? Just my hands?" A shift in weight, a moment of cool air across his body, and Adam's other hand is rolling his balls, probing between his thighs lazily.
"Oh god." Tommy's drowning in Adam's touch and presence. Adam's hand on his cock is driving him crazy so fast, and he knows Adam's offering more, but more might kill him, he's been so long without. He sucks in oxygen, feel his spine bowing with the sensations. "Adam - gonna -"
"Holy shit," he hears, distantly, but it's unimportant. Sensation slams over him like a wave, his whole skin crying out with it, his body locked up tight with pleasure. And then it recedes in shuddery ripples, and Tommy is left wrung out and trembling, kitten-helpless in Adam's hands.
"Shit, Tommy," Adam's murmuring, his mouth sliding over Tommy's. Tommy turns his head to it, dazed. "Shit, that was beautiful. You're so fucking beautiful. God." He's covering Tommy with his body, swallowing him up, pressing him down. "Okay? You with me?"
"Mm," says Tommy. He'll be anything Adam wants right now, but he feels heavy and lax, doesn't want to move. With effort, he coordinates a hand enough to rub across Adam's belly.
"Easy, tiger," says Adam, smiling. He looks so happy, so sweetly content, like making Tommy come is everything he's ever wanted. "Take your time."
Tommy smiles back, wrinkles his nose. "Gimme a second," he yawns. "I'll. You know." He waves a hand vaguely. "Take care of you."
"Sure," says Adam. "Anytime." His mouth moves featherlight over Tommy's face, his jaw, down his neck, and Tommy drifts off, the weight of Adam across him like a warm blanket.
It's still dark when he surfaces again, his time-sense fucked by months of travel and shows and jetlag. He figures it can't have been too long; the lights are out, but the fire is still going, and Adam is stroking his hair. They're cocooned under layers of blankets, Tommy tucked safe against Adam's body. He stretches, feels the lassitude down to his toes, his lazy fingers.
Adam hums at the movement, presses fingers against Tommy's scalp. Tommy turns his head up willingly for a kiss, feels it press him tighter against Adam, the thickness of Adam's cock against his hip.
"Sorry," he mumbles into Adam's mouth. "I usually last longer."
"Don't be sorry," says Adam. "That was, like, the hottest thing I've ever seen." He brushes Tommy's hair back off his face. "You needed that pretty badly, huh."
Tommy considers that. His body is heavy and lax, humming with contentment. The strange, breathless feeling he's been carrying for weeks has dissipated, and he feels more at ease than he has since the night Allison's band left the tour.
"Yeah, I did," he says. He skims his mouth across Adam's jaw, rolls further into Adam's heat. One of his legs slides between Adam's thighs, nudging up against his balls, and Adam sighs and rolls with it, legs falling wider, so Tommy falls into the cradle of his hips. Adam's cock is blood-hot and thickening between them, and Tommy rubs against it lazily as he nuzzles into Adam's neck. He's considering sliding down under the blankets and getting it in his mouth, heavy, pressing his tongue back and filling his throat.
But he's warm where he is, and comfortable, and Adam's arms around him holding him close, so he kisses what he can reach - Adam's face and his mouth, his neck and the curve of his shoulder - and rocks against him, giving Adam his belly and hip to rub on. Adam makes a pleased noise and one hand slides down to Tommy's ass, squeezing and pulling him nearer, setting a rhythm, and Tommy gives it up and lets Adam move him. He turns his head and their mouths crash together again and Adam is, God, grinding up on him, pulling Tommy down on his dick. Tommy feels tiny, the way Adam's moving him so easy, surrounding him. He whimpers and wriggles a little, but Adam squeezes him tighter and moans his name.
"Thought you were gonna go to sleep for real," he says into Tommy's ear. "Thought I was gonna have to leave you here in bed all naked and go jerk off in the bathroom."
"You could - could have woken me," Tommy stutters. Without realising it, his hands have gone to Adam's biceps; he's hanging on for the ride, not really in control of anything.
"Mmm," says Adam. One hand slides into Tommy's hair, tugging his head back gently. "Could've jerked off on your face, too. Not very gentlemanly." He bites Tommy's bottom lip.
It's Tommy's turn to say something, but he's got nothing. Except, "I wanna," he gasps. "Adam."
Adam's holding him so fast he can't get his hand between them, and he wants to touch Adam, wants to get that thick cock in his hands, in his mouth, make Adam feel good. He wants Adam moaning his name in throes of pleasure, wants Adam to come, wants to be the cause of it, to see Adam's orgasm and the afterglow and know that he was the one who made it happen.
It takes a minute of shoving at Adam's chest, but finally Adam's grip loosens enough that Tommy can worm a hand down between, scratching through the scant hairs on Adam's belly and grabbing his cock.
Adam makes a breathily happy noise. "Yeah, Tommy." Both hands cradle Tommy's head, but Tommy bats him away.
"I'm concentrating," he complains, and Adam falls back, wide open, laughing.
Adam's big and thick, even more than Terrance, and the head is sticky-slick with fluid when Tommy palms it. Adam groans and runs his hands over Tommy's face, then drops them back to the bed, like he's remembered he's meant to be letting Tommy do his thing.
Tommy ducks his head, but he's not really concentrating, he just isn't sure he can watch Adam's face while he does this. Because if he sees the expression that goes along with Adam's moaning, hitching breaths, he's going to lose his fucking head. He concentrates on stroking Adam just right, his hands getting all sweaty in the warm space between their bodies, paying careful attention to what makes Adam tense up or cry out - he wants to do this right, wants to do it well, make Adam feel so good he'll never let Tommy go.
In the end, Adam can't help from touching him, can't seem to stop himself from putting his hands on Tommy face and shoulders, stroking his skin and murmuring nonsense words that devolves into nonsense sounds as he arches up and clutches at Tommy, spilling between them.
Tommy puts his head down on Adam's heaving chest and waits, sliding his fingers through the mess.
He brings his hand up to his mouth and licks it, and Adam makes a helpless little noise. When Tommy looks up, fingers in his mouth, Adam is glassy-eyed and shocked-looking, like he's surprised.
"You're something else," Adam says, touching Tommy's hair gently. "You're really something special."
Tommy shrugs. "I like you," he says.
"I should hope so," says Adam, the corners of his eyes crinkling up.
"No, I," and Tommy's not really ready for this conversation, hasn't got the words sorted out in his head, doesn't quite understand it himself yet. But he's got to tell Adam anyway. "I mean, you're special. You're different. This is different." He pats Adam's chest for emphasis, and Adam takes his hand, then curls fingers around his wrist.
"Yeah?" he says. "Is different good?" He squeezes slightly.
Tommy presses closer, shivering, not because of the cold. "I want you to touch me," he says. "Like, all the time. You make me feel." He spreads his fingers, tugs against Adam's grip. Adam doesn't give.
Adam exhales, shakily, and kisses his forehead. "Oh, baby. I want to take so much care of you."
"Yeah," says Tommy roughly. "Yeah, please."
&&&&&
The next day is a non-show day, but Adam's got promo shit to do. Tommy hates that, hates that Adam never gets a day off, not really. He wakes up to Adam singing in the shower, and lies still under the blankets, cheek pressed to the pillow that still smells like the expensive shit Adam puts in his hair.
The room is chilly; the fire's gone out, cold sunlight sneaking around the edges of the curtains. The shower shuts off in the other room, and a few moments later Adam emerges in a cloud of steam, patches of red-heat on his fair skin. He smiles when he sees Tommy blinking up at him.
"Morning," he says quietly, and come over to sit on the bed, lean down and nuzzle at Tommy's cheek, kiss him good morning. He tastes minty-fresh, and Tommy wrinkles his nose at what his own mouth must be like.
"Hi," he says. He gets a hand behind Adam's neck and holds him when he tries to sit back up. "No, come kiss me some more."
Adam does, laughing and open-mouth. "I've gotta get ready," he says, to Tommy's chin. "I have interviews at a radio station."
Tommy frowns. "Will it be long?"
Adam shakes his head. "You don't even have to get up. You sleep, I'll be back in a few hours. Just" he waves his hands at Tommy's general naked-in-Adam's-bed-ness, "stay just like that, beautiful."
Tommy flushes with pleasure at the compliment and falls back against the pillows, watching unashamedly as Adam gets ready. He wanders around naked for a bit, and Tommy makes a disappointed noise when Adam pulls his jeans on. Adam glances over, with a grin and a wink, and leaves them unbuttoned, sliding down to expose the lush curve of his ass in back, and the thicknening patch of gingery hair around his cock as he dries his hair and does his makeup. Tommy watches the whole process, fascinated, as Adam puts himself on in pieces, paint and leather. It feels like he's watching a secret, like a magician showing him just how the rabbit got in the hat.
Adam smiles at his curiosity, busses him with a light kiss on the way out. "For serious, though," he says. "Don't even move, okay?"
"Might have a shower," says Tommy. "Clean my teeth. But I'll be here." He cranes up for another kiss. "Hurry."
Adam's eyes go dark and wanting, but he pulls away and heads for the door. "I'll see you real soon, baby," he says, full of promise, and then he's gone.
Tommy does go back to sleep for a while, comfortable and drowsy, the bed big and comfortable and smelling like Adam. He gets up after a while - still no accurate idea as to the time - and showers, uses Adam's shampoo and body wash and toothbrush with an air of proprietary pride.
He figures out the fire is actually one of those fancy-ass gas heaters that only looks like a fire, and manages to get it going again with a bit of fiddling, sending waves of heat out, but it's still chilly enough he retrieves a pair of too-large sweats from Adam's bag and pulls them on before crawling back into bed and calling Sutan.
"You better be calling with some damn juicy details at this hour, bitch," says Sutan, and yawns hugely, right into the receiver.
"Just checkin' in," says Tommy. "Sorry, did I wake you?"
"Phone woke me," Sutan grumps. "So was it everything you dreamed of when you were a little girl?"
"Don't be catty," says Tommy. "I know it's your thing, but don't, today. Okay?"
"So now you've got your dream lover, you're too good for Tranma? Fuck that. Dish, baby. I want the goss."
"There's no goss," says Tommy. "We came up here, we fooled around, we slept. He's gone to do promo stuff."
"Hmph." Sutan's sounding less irritated. "Did you talk to him yet?"
"No," says Tommy. "Last night - it wasn't a good time. I think today, we don't have a show or anything."
Sutan makes an I'm-listening noise, but doesn't say anything.
"It's just," says Tommy. "I'm a little nervous about telling him. Should I be nervous?"
"I guess," says Sutan. "I mean, there wasn't anything between you when it was going on, was there?"
Tommy stares down at the bedspread. "There wasn't nothing going on between us either."
"It's up to you," says Sutan gently. "Better to tell him now, I think, but it's up to you."
"I'm not ashamed of it," says Tommy in a small voice. "But what if he doesn't understand?"
He listens to Sutan breathing for a while. "The thing is," says Sutan, "you can't control him. All you can do is say your piece and let the chips fall."
"Maybe I should wait," says Tommy. "Maybe it would be better if I told him later, once things are more settled."
"Do you really think so?" Sutan sounds dubious.
Tommy presses his lips together. "No."
"Baby, you do what you gotta, you do what you can. But hiding something this big is not easy and it it's not healthy. For you or what you're tryin' to do."
Tommy nods, even though Sutan can't see him. "I know," he mutters. "I'm gonna."
"Attaboy. Now, you woke me at ass o'clock for a relationship pep talk. Give me sexy details or I'm gonna come up there and spank you."
"Like that's a threat," says Tommy. "I'm a taken man these days, didn't you hear?"
"It wouldn't be the fun kind of spanking," says Sutan darkly.
Tommy naps some more, wakes up totally starving, and orders room service. While he waits for it to arrive, he tweets something inane about the weather and the snowy view from his room. His twitter feed lights up with greetings and questions and a few crazy boundary-pushing nuts, which consumes his attention for a while. Adam tweets sometimes when he's bored just for the entertainment or his replies, and Brooke scolds him for it - she says his fans aren't toys to take out of a box and play with. But Tommy encourages it, likes the frenzied speculation, the cheerful friendly messages, the feeling of connecting with a crowd, the love - well, mostly love - that comes pouring his way.
The food comes, and it's amazing - delicious thick salty soup, crusty bread with real butter, a big bowl of roasted vegetables in some kind of sauce, and hot cider. Europe does stodgy food like it's going for the gold medal, and Tommy spreads it out on the flagstones in front of the big open-fire heater and eats until his belly starts protesting.
Adam texts then that he's on his way back, so Tommy stacks up the dishes on the table and crawls back into bed, not bothering to get undressed. He plays a couple of rounds of Angry Birds and fluffs up the pillows, considers going for some stupid cheesecake naked calendar pose, and he's laughing when the door to the suite opens.
Adam drops his keycard on the table by the door and kicks it shut, stands with his hands on his hips, surveying the room. "Comfy?" he says.
Tommy tugs the blankets further up around his neck. I'm a little hot dog, he thinks. Snug in a bun. "Awesome. How was your radio shit?"
"Shit," Adam echoes. "You know I love it, but man. I just wanted to be back here." He shoves back the blankets, ignoring Tommy's squeak of protest. "It was so fucking unfair, beautiful boy in my bed, and I had to leave."
He strips his shirt over his head and sits down to peel off his boots. "The whole time I was trying to be good and answer questions and concentrate and all I could think about was getting back here and fucking you." He glances over his shoulder. "You want that, right? You want me to fuck you?"
Tommy stretches his arms up over his head. "Yeah," he says. "Come on, let's do that."
Adam makes a wonderful growly noise and pounces, and they roll around for a while, giggling and wrestling each other to nakedness. Adam pins him to the bed and kisses him, deep and lush and wanting, and Tommy goes still and easy for it, letting Adam manhandle him, devour him.
Tommy sucks air into his lungs as the weight shifts off him, as Adam slides down and shoulders his legs apart. Adam is smiling the whole time, smiling while rubs his hands over Tommy's thighs, smiling as he mouths over Tommy's cock, practically laughing when Tommy jumps at the sneaky touch of his fingers.
"Relax for me, baby," he says, and Tommy tries. Adam kisses his thighs and his hipbones, murmurs comforting things, and through it all, there's the pressure of his fingers, so alien Tommy has no idea how to feel about them, so immediate he can't ignore them.
He thinks he says something, because Adam laughs and sucks a bruise onto his thigh and twists his fingers, and it suddenly gets ten times more intense, Tommy arching up off the bed, shaking. It's still not good, not by any definition he's ever known, but Adam gets a hand on his belly and presses his fingers deeper, and Tommy hears noise coming out of his own throat like his body's decided all on it's own that he likes it.
"Adam," he manages, and the pressure eases.
"Yeah, baby?" says Adam. It's only a respite; Adam's just paused to slick his fingers up again. He gazes expectantly up at Tommy, his thumb resting on the tender skin behind Tommy's balls, wet fingers rubbing over Tommy's hole.
Tommy swallows. "Take it easy, okay?" His voice cracks. "Just. This is a bit new."
Adam ducks a little smile into the crease of Tommy's thigh. "I've got you," he says, low and warm. "Didn't I say I'd take care of you?"
Tommy's chest hitches tighter. "Yeah," he says. "I know." Adam's fingers slip back inside, and it's less weird now, more - feels good, sort of. Or, not good, but he doesn't want it to stop.
"Oh, beautiful," Adam groans. Tommy feels the strain in his thighs, and realises he's pressing his feet into the bed, riding up into Adam's fingers. But then Adam's pulling away, and Tommy lets out a frantic noise, no, not yet, he isn't done.
"Shh," Adam says, "shh, I got you, here." His hands are on Tommy, moving him, rolling him onto his side, and then he moves away and it's a moment before he's back again, tucking up against Tommy's back. "Here, like this," he says, pulling Tommy's leg so his knee's tucked up against his chest. It opens him to Adam's gaze, and also it pins him in a tangle of limbs so he can't move, caged by his own body and Adam's heavy arm across him.
Tommy exhales, clutches at Adam's hand. Adam kisses the back of his neck as he presses inside, slow and steady, and Tommy shoves his face into the pillow with a high-pitched, strangled noise.
"Tell me," says Adam. "Tommy, tell me you're okay."
Tommy pants, digs his fingers into Adam's arm. "It's a lot," he says. "It's- fuck, Adam. You're."
Adam chuckles, strained. "You know just what to say, don't you." He tightens his grip, pulling Tommy firmly against his chest, and says, "Hang on."
Any reply Tommy might have made is lost, because what was huge when Adam was pressing it inside slowly feels like it's splitting him in fucking half as Adam starts fucking him, shallow steady thrusts leaving no room for air in Tommy's chest, no room for thought in his head. There's only Adam's cock, opening him up easy and smooth, Adam's low voice in his ear, Adam's broad body cradling and trapping him. Tommy gives himself over to it, what Adam's doing to him, dismantling his body and shredding his nerves. It stretches out and goes on, minute after minute, the wet sounds of their joined bodies, their breathing, the little uh-uh-uh noises Adam's driving from him.
It feels like the top of a rollercoaster, and he hates rollercoasters but it never felt like this, building and building and Adam murmurs a question in his ear and slides a hand down to cup his cock. Tommy cries out and his whole body leaps into the touch, and he'd get his own hand down there to help if it weren't tangled up with too many other limbs, but Adam's got it under control, jerking him and fucking him in counterpoint that Tommy can't keep up with, and he's swept away under the onslaught.
Adam holds him and rocks him through it, arms going fiercely tight as they tremble together. Tommy is being crushed, feels like Adam is actually trying absorb him, turn him into the same person, fused together like this, like they'll never be separated.
"Might make shows awkward," he says out loud, dazedly. Breathing's hard.
"Hmm?" says Adam, nuzzling the back of his neck. Tommy feels himself clench up as Adam shifts, and when Adam slips out, softening, Tommy shudders all the way up his spine.
"Ohhhh."
Adam's teeth hit the back of his neck. "Yeah. Huh."
Master Post
Girls Boys Everyone Aftermath Adam Tommy
"Was I bad?' says Tommy sleepily. It's not the words he meant, but Adam smiles, close up, and touches his hair.
"No. You were something, I dunno what. Like you were all off balance." Adam wrinkles his nose. "Except not. I can't explain it."
"Better now," says Tommy. The little curtain behind the bed is half-open, and the light coming in is white, reflecting off the snow.
"Mm," Adam agrees. He reaches out to touch Tommy again, and it's a moment before Tommy realises that Adam's hand has curled around his wrist like a cuff, that Adam's asking him something.
"What about you?" he says instead. "You're not better. Tired all'a time."
"Over stretched," says Adam. "I'm okay, I bounce back. I'm bouncy."
"Weebles wobble," Tommy agrees. With his free hand, he touches the skin under Adam's eyes gently. He's as pale and wan as a consumptive Austen heroine, but he smiles at Tommy's tsking.
"Hey," says Tommy and kisses him, which is a stupid idea for making him feel better, but will probably go down better than "How about I give you a blowjob that will melt your brain" which is his current go-to cheer-up strategy.
Adam lets himself be kissed, which is new, and Tommy finds himself shy. But maybe that's it, maybe that's what Adam needs, is for somebody else to give him something. He slides his tongue into Adam's mouth and kisses like he means it, presses him back onto the bed and sprawls across his chest and just gives him all he's got, Adam spread wide and accepting under him, one hand still anchored around Tommy's wrist.
Later, the road still rolling under them, Adam draw his fingertips lazily down Tommy's spine over his tshirt, making him shiver and arch. "Is that what you wanted?" he asks, his voice husky.
"Mmm," says Tommy, snuggled into Adam's chest. "That was nice. Did it make you feel better?" Adam snorts, and Tommy lifts his head so he can look at him. "What?"
"Babe, you shouldn't do shit like that just because you think it'll make me feel good."
Tommy frowns. "You didn't like it?" Adam had seemed to like it, if the press of his cock up against Tommy's belly had been any indication. Tommy had vaguely considered doing something about it, but it had felt too good, kissing Adam and rubbing against him, lazy and not in any hurry. His own arousal had been something of a surprise, a pleasant one, and Adam had laughed when he'd felt it, delighted, and pulled him closer.
"I did like it," says Adam, sliding his fingers through the shorter hair at Tommy's nape. "You know I like kissing you. Did you like it?"
"Yes," says Tommy immediately.
Adam's chest expands with his breath, and slowly sinks again. "So what brought this on?" he asks. "Just felt like a bit of loving?"
Tommy doesn't answer for a while, draws absent patterns on Adam's belly until Adam catches his hand and presses it still. "I just wanted to," he says eventually. "Is that okay?"
"Sure," says Adam softly. "Is there - is there anything else you want, baby?"
There's a long, still moment in which Tommy is suddenly and sharply aware of his own body, cradled in the lee of Adam's arms, of the sweet ache in his still-hard cock, his hungry skin.
"Yes," he says.
&&&&&
But there isn't any time for what Tommy wants; before long, they arrive at the venue, and they have to leave the warmth of Adam's bed for the outside chill.
They're the last ones off the bus, and Adam grabs him just inside the door and kisses him gently, holding Tommys' face between his palms. "We'll talk later," he promises, and Tommy nods and goes up on his toes enough to kiss Adam's mouth again, marvelling that he's allowed, with nobody watching, nobody to please but himself.
The pre-show stuff goes as always, with the new added complication of having stagehands and hosts who don't necessarily speak English or understand it to deal with. Tommy's twitchy and distracted, finding himself with blank periods in the afternoon when he's got nothing to do and nowhere to be. Sasha catches his eye and he realises those dull patches are usually when he would be pulling somebody aside into a closet or and office or even just a fold of the thick stage curtain.
But he isn't, today.
Cam's the one who catches up with him, once Adam's gone off to do the meet-and-greet. She sits down by him on the ratty couch in the green room, tipping into his side and just sitting there, quiet and calm. Her solid presence eases Tommy's jitters. If it had been anybody else, it might not have worked, but Cam is so steady, so dependable. She feels like Adam, a little, to talk with.
"How's your day going?" she says after a while.
"Good." He chews on his thumbnail. "Adam, uh."
She hums a little, slings an arm around his shoulders. "I thought he wasn't part of this."
"He's not," says Tommy, staring at his chewed-up cuticles. "He's. He's something else, I think."
She nods, fiddles with the longer bits of his hair. Tommy waits. She takes her time thinking about things, always, but she tends to arrive at the right place.
"So this changes things," she says slowly. "Yeah?"
He nods, rubs his nose. "Think so."
"Does he know?"
Tommy shakes his head, then shrugs. "I haven't told him. I think he knows - you know, some things. He, um, he saw, after that night in the suite. My arms were all bruised. And he knew something was up. But not, like, um. Details."
"You gonna tell him?"
"Yeah," says Tommy. It hadn't even occurred to him not to tell Adam.
"Well," Cam sighs, "I will not lie to you, my friend. I am going to miss the fuck out of oral sex on demand."
"You guys should set up some sort of time-share arrangement," Tommy suggests. "Help each other out."
She pulls his hair. "You let us worry about that," she tells him. "Not your job anymore."
He smiles and tucks his face into the curve of her neck, where she smells of earth and sweat and girl. Maybe he's going to miss that scent, and the softness of curves and the way Cam's hair falls against his neck. Not Cam specifically, but girls, maybe.
On the other hand, Adam.
"Do you want me to tell the others?" Cam asks.
"Nah," says Tommy. "I can. I want to."
Terrance laughs and claps him on the back; Sasha pouts; Brooke hides a smile behind her hand. But Taylor goes red and scowls and storms off without a word, and there isn't time for Tommy to go after him.
"He's a little in love with you, poor pet," says Sutan, carefully applying glitter to the corner of Tommy's eye.
"Oh, damn it." He should have been more careful with Taylor; he's so young, feels things so hard.
"Should've seen that one coming," says Isaac, perched on top of a filing cabinet. He's twirling a drumstick in his fingers, having taken Tommy's announcement with the same laconic ease he took everything.
"Fuck you," says Tommy. "How was I meant to know, anyway."
Sutan pats him on the head, sympathetically, and Isaac drums out a rhythm with his heels against the cabinet.
"I have to talk to him," says Tommy.
"Talk to who?" says Adam, from the door. He's in full glam-mode, costumed and painted like some alien god.
"Taylor," says Tommy. "Tell you later, okay?" He can feel a smile spreading on his face, goofy, and Sutan sighs and tuts as his brush slips, but leaves with a wink at Adam and a kiss to Tommy's temple. Isaac dismounts with a thud and brushes by Tommy on his way out, pauses to bump fists with Adam, and then they're alone.
"You told them," says Adam, coming to stand behind Tommy. Tommy tilts his head way back against Adam chest and looks up at him.
"Yeah."
"Really?" Adam sounds absurdly pleased. "You're really okay with them knowing?"
"Uh-huh," says Tommy. "You gonna kiss me tonight?"
"Am I gonna - you shit," says Adam. "You little shit. I'm gonna eat your fucking face off." His slides his hand down to cup Tommy's tilted-up chin.
"Then let's do it," says Tommy, grinning.
The show is awesome. Adam does, as promised, eat his fucking face off, to the extent he drops the first verse of Fever and has to scramble to catch up with the dancers for the chorus. He's wild and seductive, making that big-ass voice of his do fucking backflips, groping Tommy at every opportunity. For the encore, he goes for a performance of 20th Century Boy that has him writhing on the floor, followed up with a sultry-hot acoustic Whole Lotta Love that makes a couple of women in the front row faint and leaves Tommy's hands a bit shaky.
He makes a half-assed effort after the show to track down Taylor, but it's a hotel night, so they're only on the bus for twenty minutes, and when they hit the hotel, Adam's sliding his fingers along the small of Tommy's back and smiling at him all hopeful, so Tommy resolves to find Taylor tomorrow some time.
Adam's got the penthouse suite, of course, so after the others get off the red-carpeted wood-panelled elevator he and Adam are alone, and Adam presses him up against the wood panelling and kisses him, gentle teasing nips along his jaw.
"You gonna treat me right?" says Tommy, breathless.
"Baby, I'm gonna be so good to you," Adam murmurs. "Tell me you want this, okay? Keep telling me."
"I want this," Tommy tells him, as the elevator chimes and the doors slide open. "Come on, move your ass, I want you naked."
The hotel isn't super-swanky, but the penthouse suite is kind of cute: all cream and wood with an open fire making it cosy-warm, big bay windows overlooking the snowy city, a wide four poster bed with thick coverings and red curtains. Tommy crashes onto it face-down, makes a delighted noise, and flops onto his back.
"I would sleep with you just so I could pass out in this bed after," he declares.
Adam's face appears in his line of vision. "You can pass out here even if you don't sleep with me," he says.
"Stop trying to give me an out," says Tommy, yanking him down. "Just. Just, would you please."
Adam hums and nuzzles his throat, slips his fingers under Tommy's jacket. Then under his sweater. After a minute of fiddling, he says, "Jesus, how many layers are you wearing?"
"I don't have much body fat," says Tommy. "I'm warmer this way." He sits up to shuck his jacket; Adam makes a happy little sound and grabs at his hoodie, which is quickly joined on the floor by his second hoodie, a thin sweater, a henley, and an old Metallica tshirt, leaving Tommy shivering on the bed in his undershirt.
"I thought you felt a little bulkier," says Adam, and Tommy frowns and tugs at Adam's clothes fretfully.
Adam being Adam, he gets distracted halfway through undressing by Tommy's nipples, visibly hardening through his thin shirt, and he abandons undressing in favour of kissing Tommy again, rubbing his knuckles over the stiffened peaks curiously. "Cold?" he asks against Tommy's mouth.
"Not exactly," Tommy replies. "Fuck, Jesus, hang on. Lemme get my shirt off, okay?"
"Oh, can I play with 'em?" says Adam, like it's Christmas. "Shit, I bet you're all sensitive, aren't you."
"Find out," says Tommy. "Come on, and you," and he grapples with Adam's clothes for a minute, pulling off a sweater and a shirt and maybe some necklaces in a tangle that Adam gets stuck in, emerges ruffled and pink-faced.
"God," says Adam and then Tommy's being kissed again, really properly kissed, dipped back into the thick soft pillows and held down by Adam's broad bare chest and totally plundered as Adam's hands wander over his body.
And Adam's hands are doing something to him, settling him, centring him. It's like everywhere Adam touches him, Tommy's a little more aware of himself, that the skin Adam's touching his skin, all over, the hands clenching in Adam's shoulder are Tommy's, the muscles and bones and the breath in his lungs and when Adam bends his head to bite at Tommy's nipple, yes, the pleasure singing through him is Tommy's too.
"You want this," says Adam, not like a question. His breath is hot on Tommy's skin, his damp nipple.
"Yes," says Tommy. "Yeah, I fuckin' want this." His slides his fingers in Adam's hair. "Come on, touch me. Please."
Adam ducks his head, smiling. "Anything for you," he says, hand already sliding low, Tommy's belly, the sagging waistband of his jeans. "Anything you want, baby, just tell me. Gonna make you feel." He cups Tommy's cock through the denim and Tommy surges up, beautiful, helpless.
"Yes," he hisses. "Yeah, do it."
He's glad of Adam's steady hands, that get him unzipped and halfway out of his jeans. He manages a shaky laugh at not taking his boots off, having to stop and unlace himself before he can get the rest of the way naked, then sits, feeling skinny and small, while Adam strips himself bare with what seems like an inhuman level of grace and returns to the bed, golden-gorgeous in the firelight.
"What do you want?" says Adam, and kisses him before he can answer, his hands confident and bold: Tommy's chest, his belly, his ass and thighs.
"Touch me," Tommy begs. "Adam, fuck, your hands, please."
"Mmm." Adam's hand closes over his cock, warm and sudden, bigger and softer than Tommy's when he touches himself. Tommy writhes with it, mouth open and panting, and Adam's can't seem to help but kiss him, even as he jerks him off slowly.
"That all, baby? Just my hands?" A shift in weight, a moment of cool air across his body, and Adam's other hand is rolling his balls, probing between his thighs lazily.
"Oh god." Tommy's drowning in Adam's touch and presence. Adam's hand on his cock is driving him crazy so fast, and he knows Adam's offering more, but more might kill him, he's been so long without. He sucks in oxygen, feel his spine bowing with the sensations. "Adam - gonna -"
"Holy shit," he hears, distantly, but it's unimportant. Sensation slams over him like a wave, his whole skin crying out with it, his body locked up tight with pleasure. And then it recedes in shuddery ripples, and Tommy is left wrung out and trembling, kitten-helpless in Adam's hands.
"Shit, Tommy," Adam's murmuring, his mouth sliding over Tommy's. Tommy turns his head to it, dazed. "Shit, that was beautiful. You're so fucking beautiful. God." He's covering Tommy with his body, swallowing him up, pressing him down. "Okay? You with me?"
"Mm," says Tommy. He'll be anything Adam wants right now, but he feels heavy and lax, doesn't want to move. With effort, he coordinates a hand enough to rub across Adam's belly.
"Easy, tiger," says Adam, smiling. He looks so happy, so sweetly content, like making Tommy come is everything he's ever wanted. "Take your time."
Tommy smiles back, wrinkles his nose. "Gimme a second," he yawns. "I'll. You know." He waves a hand vaguely. "Take care of you."
"Sure," says Adam. "Anytime." His mouth moves featherlight over Tommy's face, his jaw, down his neck, and Tommy drifts off, the weight of Adam across him like a warm blanket.
It's still dark when he surfaces again, his time-sense fucked by months of travel and shows and jetlag. He figures it can't have been too long; the lights are out, but the fire is still going, and Adam is stroking his hair. They're cocooned under layers of blankets, Tommy tucked safe against Adam's body. He stretches, feels the lassitude down to his toes, his lazy fingers.
Adam hums at the movement, presses fingers against Tommy's scalp. Tommy turns his head up willingly for a kiss, feels it press him tighter against Adam, the thickness of Adam's cock against his hip.
"Sorry," he mumbles into Adam's mouth. "I usually last longer."
"Don't be sorry," says Adam. "That was, like, the hottest thing I've ever seen." He brushes Tommy's hair back off his face. "You needed that pretty badly, huh."
Tommy considers that. His body is heavy and lax, humming with contentment. The strange, breathless feeling he's been carrying for weeks has dissipated, and he feels more at ease than he has since the night Allison's band left the tour.
"Yeah, I did," he says. He skims his mouth across Adam's jaw, rolls further into Adam's heat. One of his legs slides between Adam's thighs, nudging up against his balls, and Adam sighs and rolls with it, legs falling wider, so Tommy falls into the cradle of his hips. Adam's cock is blood-hot and thickening between them, and Tommy rubs against it lazily as he nuzzles into Adam's neck. He's considering sliding down under the blankets and getting it in his mouth, heavy, pressing his tongue back and filling his throat.
But he's warm where he is, and comfortable, and Adam's arms around him holding him close, so he kisses what he can reach - Adam's face and his mouth, his neck and the curve of his shoulder - and rocks against him, giving Adam his belly and hip to rub on. Adam makes a pleased noise and one hand slides down to Tommy's ass, squeezing and pulling him nearer, setting a rhythm, and Tommy gives it up and lets Adam move him. He turns his head and their mouths crash together again and Adam is, God, grinding up on him, pulling Tommy down on his dick. Tommy feels tiny, the way Adam's moving him so easy, surrounding him. He whimpers and wriggles a little, but Adam squeezes him tighter and moans his name.
"Thought you were gonna go to sleep for real," he says into Tommy's ear. "Thought I was gonna have to leave you here in bed all naked and go jerk off in the bathroom."
"You could - could have woken me," Tommy stutters. Without realising it, his hands have gone to Adam's biceps; he's hanging on for the ride, not really in control of anything.
"Mmm," says Adam. One hand slides into Tommy's hair, tugging his head back gently. "Could've jerked off on your face, too. Not very gentlemanly." He bites Tommy's bottom lip.
It's Tommy's turn to say something, but he's got nothing. Except, "I wanna," he gasps. "Adam."
Adam's holding him so fast he can't get his hand between them, and he wants to touch Adam, wants to get that thick cock in his hands, in his mouth, make Adam feel good. He wants Adam moaning his name in throes of pleasure, wants Adam to come, wants to be the cause of it, to see Adam's orgasm and the afterglow and know that he was the one who made it happen.
It takes a minute of shoving at Adam's chest, but finally Adam's grip loosens enough that Tommy can worm a hand down between, scratching through the scant hairs on Adam's belly and grabbing his cock.
Adam makes a breathily happy noise. "Yeah, Tommy." Both hands cradle Tommy's head, but Tommy bats him away.
"I'm concentrating," he complains, and Adam falls back, wide open, laughing.
Adam's big and thick, even more than Terrance, and the head is sticky-slick with fluid when Tommy palms it. Adam groans and runs his hands over Tommy's face, then drops them back to the bed, like he's remembered he's meant to be letting Tommy do his thing.
Tommy ducks his head, but he's not really concentrating, he just isn't sure he can watch Adam's face while he does this. Because if he sees the expression that goes along with Adam's moaning, hitching breaths, he's going to lose his fucking head. He concentrates on stroking Adam just right, his hands getting all sweaty in the warm space between their bodies, paying careful attention to what makes Adam tense up or cry out - he wants to do this right, wants to do it well, make Adam feel so good he'll never let Tommy go.
In the end, Adam can't help from touching him, can't seem to stop himself from putting his hands on Tommy face and shoulders, stroking his skin and murmuring nonsense words that devolves into nonsense sounds as he arches up and clutches at Tommy, spilling between them.
Tommy puts his head down on Adam's heaving chest and waits, sliding his fingers through the mess.
He brings his hand up to his mouth and licks it, and Adam makes a helpless little noise. When Tommy looks up, fingers in his mouth, Adam is glassy-eyed and shocked-looking, like he's surprised.
"You're something else," Adam says, touching Tommy's hair gently. "You're really something special."
Tommy shrugs. "I like you," he says.
"I should hope so," says Adam, the corners of his eyes crinkling up.
"No, I," and Tommy's not really ready for this conversation, hasn't got the words sorted out in his head, doesn't quite understand it himself yet. But he's got to tell Adam anyway. "I mean, you're special. You're different. This is different." He pats Adam's chest for emphasis, and Adam takes his hand, then curls fingers around his wrist.
"Yeah?" he says. "Is different good?" He squeezes slightly.
Tommy presses closer, shivering, not because of the cold. "I want you to touch me," he says. "Like, all the time. You make me feel." He spreads his fingers, tugs against Adam's grip. Adam doesn't give.
Adam exhales, shakily, and kisses his forehead. "Oh, baby. I want to take so much care of you."
"Yeah," says Tommy roughly. "Yeah, please."
&&&&&
The next day is a non-show day, but Adam's got promo shit to do. Tommy hates that, hates that Adam never gets a day off, not really. He wakes up to Adam singing in the shower, and lies still under the blankets, cheek pressed to the pillow that still smells like the expensive shit Adam puts in his hair.
The room is chilly; the fire's gone out, cold sunlight sneaking around the edges of the curtains. The shower shuts off in the other room, and a few moments later Adam emerges in a cloud of steam, patches of red-heat on his fair skin. He smiles when he sees Tommy blinking up at him.
"Morning," he says quietly, and come over to sit on the bed, lean down and nuzzle at Tommy's cheek, kiss him good morning. He tastes minty-fresh, and Tommy wrinkles his nose at what his own mouth must be like.
"Hi," he says. He gets a hand behind Adam's neck and holds him when he tries to sit back up. "No, come kiss me some more."
Adam does, laughing and open-mouth. "I've gotta get ready," he says, to Tommy's chin. "I have interviews at a radio station."
Tommy frowns. "Will it be long?"
Adam shakes his head. "You don't even have to get up. You sleep, I'll be back in a few hours. Just" he waves his hands at Tommy's general naked-in-Adam's-bed-ness, "stay just like that, beautiful."
Tommy flushes with pleasure at the compliment and falls back against the pillows, watching unashamedly as Adam gets ready. He wanders around naked for a bit, and Tommy makes a disappointed noise when Adam pulls his jeans on. Adam glances over, with a grin and a wink, and leaves them unbuttoned, sliding down to expose the lush curve of his ass in back, and the thicknening patch of gingery hair around his cock as he dries his hair and does his makeup. Tommy watches the whole process, fascinated, as Adam puts himself on in pieces, paint and leather. It feels like he's watching a secret, like a magician showing him just how the rabbit got in the hat.
Adam smiles at his curiosity, busses him with a light kiss on the way out. "For serious, though," he says. "Don't even move, okay?"
"Might have a shower," says Tommy. "Clean my teeth. But I'll be here." He cranes up for another kiss. "Hurry."
Adam's eyes go dark and wanting, but he pulls away and heads for the door. "I'll see you real soon, baby," he says, full of promise, and then he's gone.
Tommy does go back to sleep for a while, comfortable and drowsy, the bed big and comfortable and smelling like Adam. He gets up after a while - still no accurate idea as to the time - and showers, uses Adam's shampoo and body wash and toothbrush with an air of proprietary pride.
He figures out the fire is actually one of those fancy-ass gas heaters that only looks like a fire, and manages to get it going again with a bit of fiddling, sending waves of heat out, but it's still chilly enough he retrieves a pair of too-large sweats from Adam's bag and pulls them on before crawling back into bed and calling Sutan.
"You better be calling with some damn juicy details at this hour, bitch," says Sutan, and yawns hugely, right into the receiver.
"Just checkin' in," says Tommy. "Sorry, did I wake you?"
"Phone woke me," Sutan grumps. "So was it everything you dreamed of when you were a little girl?"
"Don't be catty," says Tommy. "I know it's your thing, but don't, today. Okay?"
"So now you've got your dream lover, you're too good for Tranma? Fuck that. Dish, baby. I want the goss."
"There's no goss," says Tommy. "We came up here, we fooled around, we slept. He's gone to do promo stuff."
"Hmph." Sutan's sounding less irritated. "Did you talk to him yet?"
"No," says Tommy. "Last night - it wasn't a good time. I think today, we don't have a show or anything."
Sutan makes an I'm-listening noise, but doesn't say anything.
"It's just," says Tommy. "I'm a little nervous about telling him. Should I be nervous?"
"I guess," says Sutan. "I mean, there wasn't anything between you when it was going on, was there?"
Tommy stares down at the bedspread. "There wasn't nothing going on between us either."
"It's up to you," says Sutan gently. "Better to tell him now, I think, but it's up to you."
"I'm not ashamed of it," says Tommy in a small voice. "But what if he doesn't understand?"
He listens to Sutan breathing for a while. "The thing is," says Sutan, "you can't control him. All you can do is say your piece and let the chips fall."
"Maybe I should wait," says Tommy. "Maybe it would be better if I told him later, once things are more settled."
"Do you really think so?" Sutan sounds dubious.
Tommy presses his lips together. "No."
"Baby, you do what you gotta, you do what you can. But hiding something this big is not easy and it it's not healthy. For you or what you're tryin' to do."
Tommy nods, even though Sutan can't see him. "I know," he mutters. "I'm gonna."
"Attaboy. Now, you woke me at ass o'clock for a relationship pep talk. Give me sexy details or I'm gonna come up there and spank you."
"Like that's a threat," says Tommy. "I'm a taken man these days, didn't you hear?"
"It wouldn't be the fun kind of spanking," says Sutan darkly.
Tommy naps some more, wakes up totally starving, and orders room service. While he waits for it to arrive, he tweets something inane about the weather and the snowy view from his room. His twitter feed lights up with greetings and questions and a few crazy boundary-pushing nuts, which consumes his attention for a while. Adam tweets sometimes when he's bored just for the entertainment or his replies, and Brooke scolds him for it - she says his fans aren't toys to take out of a box and play with. But Tommy encourages it, likes the frenzied speculation, the cheerful friendly messages, the feeling of connecting with a crowd, the love - well, mostly love - that comes pouring his way.
The food comes, and it's amazing - delicious thick salty soup, crusty bread with real butter, a big bowl of roasted vegetables in some kind of sauce, and hot cider. Europe does stodgy food like it's going for the gold medal, and Tommy spreads it out on the flagstones in front of the big open-fire heater and eats until his belly starts protesting.
Adam texts then that he's on his way back, so Tommy stacks up the dishes on the table and crawls back into bed, not bothering to get undressed. He plays a couple of rounds of Angry Birds and fluffs up the pillows, considers going for some stupid cheesecake naked calendar pose, and he's laughing when the door to the suite opens.
Adam drops his keycard on the table by the door and kicks it shut, stands with his hands on his hips, surveying the room. "Comfy?" he says.
Tommy tugs the blankets further up around his neck. I'm a little hot dog, he thinks. Snug in a bun. "Awesome. How was your radio shit?"
"Shit," Adam echoes. "You know I love it, but man. I just wanted to be back here." He shoves back the blankets, ignoring Tommy's squeak of protest. "It was so fucking unfair, beautiful boy in my bed, and I had to leave."
He strips his shirt over his head and sits down to peel off his boots. "The whole time I was trying to be good and answer questions and concentrate and all I could think about was getting back here and fucking you." He glances over his shoulder. "You want that, right? You want me to fuck you?"
Tommy stretches his arms up over his head. "Yeah," he says. "Come on, let's do that."
Adam makes a wonderful growly noise and pounces, and they roll around for a while, giggling and wrestling each other to nakedness. Adam pins him to the bed and kisses him, deep and lush and wanting, and Tommy goes still and easy for it, letting Adam manhandle him, devour him.
Tommy sucks air into his lungs as the weight shifts off him, as Adam slides down and shoulders his legs apart. Adam is smiling the whole time, smiling while rubs his hands over Tommy's thighs, smiling as he mouths over Tommy's cock, practically laughing when Tommy jumps at the sneaky touch of his fingers.
"Relax for me, baby," he says, and Tommy tries. Adam kisses his thighs and his hipbones, murmurs comforting things, and through it all, there's the pressure of his fingers, so alien Tommy has no idea how to feel about them, so immediate he can't ignore them.
He thinks he says something, because Adam laughs and sucks a bruise onto his thigh and twists his fingers, and it suddenly gets ten times more intense, Tommy arching up off the bed, shaking. It's still not good, not by any definition he's ever known, but Adam gets a hand on his belly and presses his fingers deeper, and Tommy hears noise coming out of his own throat like his body's decided all on it's own that he likes it.
"Adam," he manages, and the pressure eases.
"Yeah, baby?" says Adam. It's only a respite; Adam's just paused to slick his fingers up again. He gazes expectantly up at Tommy, his thumb resting on the tender skin behind Tommy's balls, wet fingers rubbing over Tommy's hole.
Tommy swallows. "Take it easy, okay?" His voice cracks. "Just. This is a bit new."
Adam ducks a little smile into the crease of Tommy's thigh. "I've got you," he says, low and warm. "Didn't I say I'd take care of you?"
Tommy's chest hitches tighter. "Yeah," he says. "I know." Adam's fingers slip back inside, and it's less weird now, more - feels good, sort of. Or, not good, but he doesn't want it to stop.
"Oh, beautiful," Adam groans. Tommy feels the strain in his thighs, and realises he's pressing his feet into the bed, riding up into Adam's fingers. But then Adam's pulling away, and Tommy lets out a frantic noise, no, not yet, he isn't done.
"Shh," Adam says, "shh, I got you, here." His hands are on Tommy, moving him, rolling him onto his side, and then he moves away and it's a moment before he's back again, tucking up against Tommy's back. "Here, like this," he says, pulling Tommy's leg so his knee's tucked up against his chest. It opens him to Adam's gaze, and also it pins him in a tangle of limbs so he can't move, caged by his own body and Adam's heavy arm across him.
Tommy exhales, clutches at Adam's hand. Adam kisses the back of his neck as he presses inside, slow and steady, and Tommy shoves his face into the pillow with a high-pitched, strangled noise.
"Tell me," says Adam. "Tommy, tell me you're okay."
Tommy pants, digs his fingers into Adam's arm. "It's a lot," he says. "It's- fuck, Adam. You're."
Adam chuckles, strained. "You know just what to say, don't you." He tightens his grip, pulling Tommy firmly against his chest, and says, "Hang on."
Any reply Tommy might have made is lost, because what was huge when Adam was pressing it inside slowly feels like it's splitting him in fucking half as Adam starts fucking him, shallow steady thrusts leaving no room for air in Tommy's chest, no room for thought in his head. There's only Adam's cock, opening him up easy and smooth, Adam's low voice in his ear, Adam's broad body cradling and trapping him. Tommy gives himself over to it, what Adam's doing to him, dismantling his body and shredding his nerves. It stretches out and goes on, minute after minute, the wet sounds of their joined bodies, their breathing, the little uh-uh-uh noises Adam's driving from him.
It feels like the top of a rollercoaster, and he hates rollercoasters but it never felt like this, building and building and Adam murmurs a question in his ear and slides a hand down to cup his cock. Tommy cries out and his whole body leaps into the touch, and he'd get his own hand down there to help if it weren't tangled up with too many other limbs, but Adam's got it under control, jerking him and fucking him in counterpoint that Tommy can't keep up with, and he's swept away under the onslaught.
Adam holds him and rocks him through it, arms going fiercely tight as they tremble together. Tommy is being crushed, feels like Adam is actually trying absorb him, turn him into the same person, fused together like this, like they'll never be separated.
"Might make shows awkward," he says out loud, dazedly. Breathing's hard.
"Hmm?" says Adam, nuzzling the back of his neck. Tommy feels himself clench up as Adam shifts, and when Adam slips out, softening, Tommy shudders all the way up his spine.
"Ohhhh."
Adam's teeth hit the back of his neck. "Yeah. Huh."
Master Post
Girls Boys Everyone Aftermath Adam Tommy