continuum
Title: Continuum
Author: heroes_and_cons
Pairing: Adam/Tommy
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: title credit to john mayer. don't own adam or tommy.
"Do you ever think about it, though?"
"Think about what?"
"You know. Death. Dying."
"Jesus Christ." Tommy rolls over, finds the ashtray on the bedside table, and puts out his smouldering cigarette. "Way to bring down the mood."
Adam leans forward and grabs the small portion of sheets that hang from Tommy's waist, whipping them back as he stands so that he's suddenly stark naked. Tommy stumbles, nearly falling into the window. "Fuck! Goddamn, Adam, it's fucking cold!" He's forced to run back into the bed, burrow underneath the covers.
Adam traps him, laces a hand around his short tufts of hair and kisses him roughly. He pulls away, smiling at Tommy's swollen lips, and pats his cheek. "For a straight guy, you're a really good fuck, you know that? Now put some pants on."
Tommy hesitates, and it's just long enough for Adam to push him onto his stomach and climb on top of him in a swift move. "You want more, don't you?" He whispers into Tommy's ear, settling himself inbetween his legs.
"Yes," Tommy whimpers, curling a fist around the blankets. "Fuck me. Please?"
"This is the sixth time today," Adam mutters, voice harsh and trembling, as he pushes himself into Tommy's still-tight asshole.
"I'm a fucking slut, I know," Tommy whispers, bucking his hips up to meet Adam. A slight groan escapes his lips, and he presses his face into the mattress.
It's quick and rough, exactly the way they like it, and the way it has to be -- they have rehearsals in half an hour. Adam is heavy on top of Tommy, and Tommy shakes uncontrollably underneath him. He begins to reach down and stroke his dick, but Adam swats his hand away, and takes care of it for him.
"Fuck," Tommy groans. "Fuck, Adam, fucking take me there, I'm so close, fucking come in me..."
Adam thrusts again, burrowing himself so deep in Tommy he's not sure if he'll be able to get out. He comes hard, hard enough for his vision to blur, and then remembers to jerk his hand up and down Tomm's dick until he comes too, messy and wet all over the sheets.
Adam plants a kiss on Tommy's neck, then wonders if it's too intimate a gesture. They dance around each other sometimes, like it's a political game -- fucking is okay, but soft touches and hand-holding and gentle collarbone kisses are not.
Adam pulls himself out of Tommy, stands up and begins to get dressed. After a moment, he glances over his shoulder to see Tommy still lying face-down on the bed. Adam's legs twitch, wanting to carry him over to the bed and lie down next to Tommy.
"You better hurry up," Adam says instead, pulling on a jacket. "You've got fifteen minutes."
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"I'm going to be a nurse. I'm in school right now. Did I say that already?"
Three times, Tommy thinks, but he shakes his head and watches the girl down another shot of vodka. She's got soft dark hair that falls past her shoulders in waves, pretty blue eyes that are bloodshot under the light of the bar. Tommy catches the eye of the bartender and waves him over, letting him refill her glass.
"Thanks," she giggles, tossing back another one.
"Bottoms up," Tommy mutters, taking a swig of his beer.
She says she's a senior in college, but Tommy figures she can't be more than twenty-one, the way she's drinking. And a part of him feels bad, giving her glass after glass of booze, but then he sees Adam cornering a boy across the club and he turns his attention back to the girl again.
"You wanna get out of here?" He asks, half-smiling.
She giggles again, her laugh irritatingly high-pitched. "I don't even know your name, though."
"Tommy," he says. He knows she introduced herself already, but he can't remember her name for shit. "Now do you wanna get out of here?"
Instead of leaving out the exit near the bar, he wraps an arm around her waist and leads her through the club, out the main door. He pauses as they go, touching Adam's shoulder until he turns away from the conversation he's having with the drunk boy.
"I'm going back to the hotel," he says declaratively. "Don't interrupt us, okay?" He intentionally squeezes the girl's waist, and she laughs, kissing his cheek.
Adam cocks an eyebrow. "No problem. You two have fun."
The words the girl is slurring together string through Tommy's ears, not registering with him as they walk towards the hotel. He wishes that Adam wasn't so goddamn hard to read sometimes.
Or maybe his mask was just too thin.
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Twenty minutes later and the girl is sprawled out on the hotel bed, the same one that Adam fucked Tommy in last night. She's naked except for her heels, and Tommy wonders why she's kept them on. He doesn't really want to fuck her -- he invited her back to his room with the intention of pouring her a few more drinks, hoping she would eventually pass out -- but evidently she wants him. And the loneliness consumes him, and he isn't going to say no.
He skips the foreplay, though, and she doesn't seem to mind. In one swift movement he rolls a condom over his erect cock and positions himself in between her, gently easing himself into her. She moans and giggles and reaches up to pull his neck down until his mouth meets hers. She pulls back slightly, breathing damp, alcohol-drenched breath onto his cheek.
He pulls almost all of the way out, teasing her for a moment, before thrusting himself back in. She squeaks, her small body jumping slightly, and presses her mouth into the small of his neck. He moves faster, his hips bucking, so fast that his balls smack the back of her ass.
"God, Tommy," the girl moans, throwing her head back and bouncing underneath him.
He wants to repeat the gesture, but he still doesn't know her name.
He pulls out of her, rolling off the condom and coming across her chest and stomach. She grins, leaning down to suck him off until he's bone-dry. He sighs and tangles a hand in the back of her hair, pushing her mouth down further on his dick. She was pretty good at sucking cock, he had to admit.
Afterwards, when she's fallen asleep on the bed, Tommy finds a pack of cigarettes and lights up, standing on the balcony in only a pair of jeans. He leans against the railing, exhaling a plume of ashen smoke into the night sky.
The moon looks so far away, he thinks, so distant and unreal. But people have been there before, left their footprints across its surface.
It's a gentle reminder that you can still get something that seems so far out of reach if you try.
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"God, I'm hungover," Monte sighs, sitting on the floor against an amp. "Any of you guys got Advil?"
Without hesitating, Adam whips out a small bottle and tosses it at Monte. "You were crazy last night, big boy," he grins. "You get any action?"
"Nah," Monte says, swallowing the pills dry. "But Tommy did."
Tommy snaps his head up, breaking out of his daze from fingering his bass. "What?"
"Yeah, I heard you going at it with that chick last night. She was hot, too," Monte grins at Adam.
Adam smiles at Tommy, but it feels forced, like a bridge trembling under the weight of a heavy load. "Nice," he murmurs.
"So what happened to her?" Monte continues, oblivious. "You didn't give her your real number, did you?"
Tommy hesitates. In actuality, he'd told her he had to wake up early the next morning for rehearsals, and that he was traveling so much that he didn't want anything serious. It had made him feel like a douche, but she hadn't seemed to care. "I did," he says instead. "She was really nice. We kind of...clicked."
Both Monte and Adam fall silent before Monte bursts into a laugh. "You clicked? Jesus, Tommy, are you feeling okay? You never fall for this kind of shit."
Tommy shrugs, lifting his eyes to meet Adam's. "It's possible," he murmured. "People change all the time."
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"Why the fuck are you doing this?"
Tommy is surprised when Adam corners him, because it's been nearly half an hour since the show ended, which means Adam should be outside doing a meet-and-greet. But he's cornered Tommy on the tour bus alone instead. His eyes ache.
"What?"
"Stop fucking with me, Tommy. Jesus. All this shit...fucking me and then not even looking at me the next day? Dangling some girl you banged from the bar in front of me and acting like it's serious?" He turns halfway, locking his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. "If you want to just be...I don't know, friends with benefits, fine. I'm okay with that. If you want to be more, then tell me. But I'm sick of you not saying anything and expecting me to read your fucking mind."
Tommy's muscles ache from the two-and-a-half-hour-long set, and his head still throbs like the beat of a bass. He blinks a few times, absorbing Adam's words, letting them lace through his ears one by one.
"I don't know," he finally concedes. "I --"
"If you don't know," Adam cuts him off, "then I don't want to fucking hear any more."
He leaves, just as Tommy's soul was on the brink of pouring out into the open atmosphere.
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His adrenaline is through the fucking roof, pulsing through his veins at an untraceable rate. He's had a few drinks -- enough to interfere with his rational side, but still keep him on his feet. And he weaves through the throngs of people, people dancing and laughing and drinking and touching, and it feels like he has a million hands clawing up his back and chest at the same time.
He swallows his claustrophobia, scans the bar, walks the perimeter of the dance floor. And then he finds Adam: near the door, talking to Monte and someone else, drink in hand. Smiling, but his eyes are dull, lackluster in the dim lighting.
Tommy is so fixated on making his way to Adam he literally forgets that the people around him exist. He shoves through them, unconsciously pushing people out of the way, until he stumbles into one guy too hard, and the guy's drink flies out of his hand and lands on some girl.
"Hey!" The man yells. "Watch where the fuck you're going!"
And before Tommy can register, the guy's fist meets his face.
It lands with a deafening smack that is somehow much louder than the hum of music and white noise of the bar. The floor catches Tommy as he falls, and it only takes a few seconds for him to register the aching pain on his cheekbone, the blood that runs from his nose. Someone reaches down to help him up, and someone else holds the man back.
"Dude, you okay? Here, let's get you something for that --"
Tommy jerks away from the stranger, blindly throwing his left foot in front of his right until he's walked up to Adam.
"Jesus Christ!" Monte sees it first. "Fucking shit, Tommy, did you get in a fight?"
"I'm fine," Tommy mumbles, waving him away. He can't feel half of his jaw and the front of his face is stained with blood.
He moves past Monte and locks a hand around the back of Adam's neck. He gets on his tiptoes, finds Adam's lips, finds them and kisses him until he can no longer breathe.
When Tommy pulls back Adam is smiling, weary and somber. And then Tommy turns around and throws up until he passes out.
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The room comes to a halting stop.
Before Tommy can register anything, he feels something bitter cold against his cheek. The black spots penetrating his eyesight dissipate and he sees Adam above him, gently pressing what must be a bag of ice against his skin.
Tommy reaches up with his free hand and touches the blood, now dried, that covers most of his skin. "The fuck..."
"Some guy knocked you out," Adam grins. "You remember? It was right before you decided to make out with me in front of everyone."
"I threw up," Tommy murmurs. "Oh, fuck, I threw up in the bar." He tries to sit up, but it's much too soon, and he finds himself collapsing against the pillow again.
"That guy had one hell of a throw," Adam muses. "You're lucky he didn't break anything. But half your face is black and blue and bloody."
"That's what you get for being a rock star, right?" Tommy sighs. After a moment, he adds listlessly, "I believe there's an afterlife."
Adam furrows his brow. "What?"
"You remember the other night?" Tommy murmurs, voice hazy. "You were asking me what I think about dying and shit like that." He half-shrugs. "I don't think we just go six feet under, I think we go somewhere. Like, our souls."
"Where?" Adam asks softly. "Like heaven?"
"Maybe," Tommy concedes. "When I die I hope I go to the moon."
Adam leans down, kissing Tommy hard enough to make his lips pulse. "Stay on Earth with me for a while, okay?"
"Fine," Tommy smiles grudgingly.
Besides, he could make it to the moon on his own anyway.
Author: heroes_and_cons
Pairing: Adam/Tommy
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: title credit to john mayer. don't own adam or tommy.
"Do you ever think about it, though?"
"Think about what?"
"You know. Death. Dying."
"Jesus Christ." Tommy rolls over, finds the ashtray on the bedside table, and puts out his smouldering cigarette. "Way to bring down the mood."
Adam leans forward and grabs the small portion of sheets that hang from Tommy's waist, whipping them back as he stands so that he's suddenly stark naked. Tommy stumbles, nearly falling into the window. "Fuck! Goddamn, Adam, it's fucking cold!" He's forced to run back into the bed, burrow underneath the covers.
Adam traps him, laces a hand around his short tufts of hair and kisses him roughly. He pulls away, smiling at Tommy's swollen lips, and pats his cheek. "For a straight guy, you're a really good fuck, you know that? Now put some pants on."
Tommy hesitates, and it's just long enough for Adam to push him onto his stomach and climb on top of him in a swift move. "You want more, don't you?" He whispers into Tommy's ear, settling himself inbetween his legs.
"Yes," Tommy whimpers, curling a fist around the blankets. "Fuck me. Please?"
"This is the sixth time today," Adam mutters, voice harsh and trembling, as he pushes himself into Tommy's still-tight asshole.
"I'm a fucking slut, I know," Tommy whispers, bucking his hips up to meet Adam. A slight groan escapes his lips, and he presses his face into the mattress.
It's quick and rough, exactly the way they like it, and the way it has to be -- they have rehearsals in half an hour. Adam is heavy on top of Tommy, and Tommy shakes uncontrollably underneath him. He begins to reach down and stroke his dick, but Adam swats his hand away, and takes care of it for him.
"Fuck," Tommy groans. "Fuck, Adam, fucking take me there, I'm so close, fucking come in me..."
Adam thrusts again, burrowing himself so deep in Tommy he's not sure if he'll be able to get out. He comes hard, hard enough for his vision to blur, and then remembers to jerk his hand up and down Tomm's dick until he comes too, messy and wet all over the sheets.
Adam plants a kiss on Tommy's neck, then wonders if it's too intimate a gesture. They dance around each other sometimes, like it's a political game -- fucking is okay, but soft touches and hand-holding and gentle collarbone kisses are not.
Adam pulls himself out of Tommy, stands up and begins to get dressed. After a moment, he glances over his shoulder to see Tommy still lying face-down on the bed. Adam's legs twitch, wanting to carry him over to the bed and lie down next to Tommy.
"You better hurry up," Adam says instead, pulling on a jacket. "You've got fifteen minutes."
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"I'm going to be a nurse. I'm in school right now. Did I say that already?"
Three times, Tommy thinks, but he shakes his head and watches the girl down another shot of vodka. She's got soft dark hair that falls past her shoulders in waves, pretty blue eyes that are bloodshot under the light of the bar. Tommy catches the eye of the bartender and waves him over, letting him refill her glass.
"Thanks," she giggles, tossing back another one.
"Bottoms up," Tommy mutters, taking a swig of his beer.
She says she's a senior in college, but Tommy figures she can't be more than twenty-one, the way she's drinking. And a part of him feels bad, giving her glass after glass of booze, but then he sees Adam cornering a boy across the club and he turns his attention back to the girl again.
"You wanna get out of here?" He asks, half-smiling.
She giggles again, her laugh irritatingly high-pitched. "I don't even know your name, though."
"Tommy," he says. He knows she introduced herself already, but he can't remember her name for shit. "Now do you wanna get out of here?"
Instead of leaving out the exit near the bar, he wraps an arm around her waist and leads her through the club, out the main door. He pauses as they go, touching Adam's shoulder until he turns away from the conversation he's having with the drunk boy.
"I'm going back to the hotel," he says declaratively. "Don't interrupt us, okay?" He intentionally squeezes the girl's waist, and she laughs, kissing his cheek.
Adam cocks an eyebrow. "No problem. You two have fun."
The words the girl is slurring together string through Tommy's ears, not registering with him as they walk towards the hotel. He wishes that Adam wasn't so goddamn hard to read sometimes.
Or maybe his mask was just too thin.
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Twenty minutes later and the girl is sprawled out on the hotel bed, the same one that Adam fucked Tommy in last night. She's naked except for her heels, and Tommy wonders why she's kept them on. He doesn't really want to fuck her -- he invited her back to his room with the intention of pouring her a few more drinks, hoping she would eventually pass out -- but evidently she wants him. And the loneliness consumes him, and he isn't going to say no.
He skips the foreplay, though, and she doesn't seem to mind. In one swift movement he rolls a condom over his erect cock and positions himself in between her, gently easing himself into her. She moans and giggles and reaches up to pull his neck down until his mouth meets hers. She pulls back slightly, breathing damp, alcohol-drenched breath onto his cheek.
He pulls almost all of the way out, teasing her for a moment, before thrusting himself back in. She squeaks, her small body jumping slightly, and presses her mouth into the small of his neck. He moves faster, his hips bucking, so fast that his balls smack the back of her ass.
"God, Tommy," the girl moans, throwing her head back and bouncing underneath him.
He wants to repeat the gesture, but he still doesn't know her name.
He pulls out of her, rolling off the condom and coming across her chest and stomach. She grins, leaning down to suck him off until he's bone-dry. He sighs and tangles a hand in the back of her hair, pushing her mouth down further on his dick. She was pretty good at sucking cock, he had to admit.
Afterwards, when she's fallen asleep on the bed, Tommy finds a pack of cigarettes and lights up, standing on the balcony in only a pair of jeans. He leans against the railing, exhaling a plume of ashen smoke into the night sky.
The moon looks so far away, he thinks, so distant and unreal. But people have been there before, left their footprints across its surface.
It's a gentle reminder that you can still get something that seems so far out of reach if you try.
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"God, I'm hungover," Monte sighs, sitting on the floor against an amp. "Any of you guys got Advil?"
Without hesitating, Adam whips out a small bottle and tosses it at Monte. "You were crazy last night, big boy," he grins. "You get any action?"
"Nah," Monte says, swallowing the pills dry. "But Tommy did."
Tommy snaps his head up, breaking out of his daze from fingering his bass. "What?"
"Yeah, I heard you going at it with that chick last night. She was hot, too," Monte grins at Adam.
Adam smiles at Tommy, but it feels forced, like a bridge trembling under the weight of a heavy load. "Nice," he murmurs.
"So what happened to her?" Monte continues, oblivious. "You didn't give her your real number, did you?"
Tommy hesitates. In actuality, he'd told her he had to wake up early the next morning for rehearsals, and that he was traveling so much that he didn't want anything serious. It had made him feel like a douche, but she hadn't seemed to care. "I did," he says instead. "She was really nice. We kind of...clicked."
Both Monte and Adam fall silent before Monte bursts into a laugh. "You clicked? Jesus, Tommy, are you feeling okay? You never fall for this kind of shit."
Tommy shrugs, lifting his eyes to meet Adam's. "It's possible," he murmured. "People change all the time."
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"Why the fuck are you doing this?"
Tommy is surprised when Adam corners him, because it's been nearly half an hour since the show ended, which means Adam should be outside doing a meet-and-greet. But he's cornered Tommy on the tour bus alone instead. His eyes ache.
"What?"
"Stop fucking with me, Tommy. Jesus. All this shit...fucking me and then not even looking at me the next day? Dangling some girl you banged from the bar in front of me and acting like it's serious?" He turns halfway, locking his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. "If you want to just be...I don't know, friends with benefits, fine. I'm okay with that. If you want to be more, then tell me. But I'm sick of you not saying anything and expecting me to read your fucking mind."
Tommy's muscles ache from the two-and-a-half-hour-long set, and his head still throbs like the beat of a bass. He blinks a few times, absorbing Adam's words, letting them lace through his ears one by one.
"I don't know," he finally concedes. "I --"
"If you don't know," Adam cuts him off, "then I don't want to fucking hear any more."
He leaves, just as Tommy's soul was on the brink of pouring out into the open atmosphere.
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His adrenaline is through the fucking roof, pulsing through his veins at an untraceable rate. He's had a few drinks -- enough to interfere with his rational side, but still keep him on his feet. And he weaves through the throngs of people, people dancing and laughing and drinking and touching, and it feels like he has a million hands clawing up his back and chest at the same time.
He swallows his claustrophobia, scans the bar, walks the perimeter of the dance floor. And then he finds Adam: near the door, talking to Monte and someone else, drink in hand. Smiling, but his eyes are dull, lackluster in the dim lighting.
Tommy is so fixated on making his way to Adam he literally forgets that the people around him exist. He shoves through them, unconsciously pushing people out of the way, until he stumbles into one guy too hard, and the guy's drink flies out of his hand and lands on some girl.
"Hey!" The man yells. "Watch where the fuck you're going!"
And before Tommy can register, the guy's fist meets his face.
It lands with a deafening smack that is somehow much louder than the hum of music and white noise of the bar. The floor catches Tommy as he falls, and it only takes a few seconds for him to register the aching pain on his cheekbone, the blood that runs from his nose. Someone reaches down to help him up, and someone else holds the man back.
"Dude, you okay? Here, let's get you something for that --"
Tommy jerks away from the stranger, blindly throwing his left foot in front of his right until he's walked up to Adam.
"Jesus Christ!" Monte sees it first. "Fucking shit, Tommy, did you get in a fight?"
"I'm fine," Tommy mumbles, waving him away. He can't feel half of his jaw and the front of his face is stained with blood.
He moves past Monte and locks a hand around the back of Adam's neck. He gets on his tiptoes, finds Adam's lips, finds them and kisses him until he can no longer breathe.
When Tommy pulls back Adam is smiling, weary and somber. And then Tommy turns around and throws up until he passes out.
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The room comes to a halting stop.
Before Tommy can register anything, he feels something bitter cold against his cheek. The black spots penetrating his eyesight dissipate and he sees Adam above him, gently pressing what must be a bag of ice against his skin.
Tommy reaches up with his free hand and touches the blood, now dried, that covers most of his skin. "The fuck..."
"Some guy knocked you out," Adam grins. "You remember? It was right before you decided to make out with me in front of everyone."
"I threw up," Tommy murmurs. "Oh, fuck, I threw up in the bar." He tries to sit up, but it's much too soon, and he finds himself collapsing against the pillow again.
"That guy had one hell of a throw," Adam muses. "You're lucky he didn't break anything. But half your face is black and blue and bloody."
"That's what you get for being a rock star, right?" Tommy sighs. After a moment, he adds listlessly, "I believe there's an afterlife."
Adam furrows his brow. "What?"
"You remember the other night?" Tommy murmurs, voice hazy. "You were asking me what I think about dying and shit like that." He half-shrugs. "I don't think we just go six feet under, I think we go somewhere. Like, our souls."
"Where?" Adam asks softly. "Like heaven?"
"Maybe," Tommy concedes. "When I die I hope I go to the moon."
Adam leans down, kissing Tommy hard enough to make his lips pulse. "Stay on Earth with me for a while, okay?"
"Fine," Tommy smiles grudgingly.
Besides, he could make it to the moon on his own anyway.