Fic: Something Good (Adam/Adam) adult
Title: Something Good
Author: amproof
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2846
Fandom: Adam Lambert
Pairing: Adam Lambert x 2
Disclaimer: Not real; not true. Also, impossible.
Warnings: Rough sex, confusing pronouns.
Notes: Written for fyentertainment's Dollar Drive for Adam Lambert's 30th Birthday. For deepinsideofewe, who wanted dark!subbish!Adam/good!Adam inspired by Adam new video for Better Than I Know Myself. For this to make sense I recommend watching.
Summary: Adam drops to his knees and demands to choke. Adam isn't happy about it, but he's never said "no."
"Do it harder. Fucking choke me." Adam shoved Adam's hips away and snarled next to his dick. He dove back onto it, trying to gag himself, but Adam clamped down on his shoulders and forced him to slow. Adam fought the restraining grip and tried for the cock again, mouth wide. He wanted it in his throat, down deep. Adam didn't want to taste the come when Adam shot. He wanted to choke on it. "Come on," he said, anger bubbling in him, "make me fucking feel it." He heard a sigh from above and Adam's hands fell away. Adam took advantage and impaled himself on Adam's cock. Yes! God, he was so big. Adam pulled at the laces on his leather pants and yanked his own cock out. He jerked off, rough and ready, almost regretting that he'd leaked enough pre-come to make the slide easy. He squeezed tight, searching for the pain. He gagged as he opened his throat to take Adam's cock in deep enough to get a nose full of ginger pubes. Adam was definitely going to mock him for that later. Adam's curtains matched his drapes. There was no reason for dying his hair if he wasn't going to go all out, was there?
"Adam, hey, uh." Adam's hand smacked Adam's shoulder without effort, so he ignored it. He pulled off, but only to choke himself again. He wished Adam would hold his nose. Make him feel the neediness, the fear he was going for. He wanted to, god, he wanted to faint on Adam's cock, wanted Adam to keep fucking his throat after he was out cold, but Mr. Penis of Goodness and Light would never do that, so Adam had to take matters into his own hands. It was never good enough, never truly met his need. Maybe he could get Adam drunk one night--dose his tea or something--and see if some of that goody-two-shoes nature would wash away with the whisky. Fuck, the idea was hopeless. The one time he'd convinced Adam to take a sip had not gone well.
"Drink it or you're a douche." Adam looked at the bottle, at the wet neck and Adam's moist lips and stepped backwards to stand in the middle of the hall instead of in Adam's doorway.
"I only came to see if you wanted to join the neighborhood watch?" Adam glanced down the hall, as if plotting his escape route.
"Are you sure that's why you came? Because it doesn't sound like you're sure." Adam grinned at him--it wasn't a leer; losers leered--and, grabbing him by the front of his "Charity is Love" shirt, yanked him inside. After a fucking ridiculous amount of hemming and hawing, Adam finally took a drink. Adam ignored Adam's chatter. Why Adam thought he gave a quarter-fuck about neighborhood patrols and pooper-scooping--did Adam see a dog in the apartment?--was beyond Adam. Finally Adam just got his dick out, but when he turned around to surprise Adam with it, Adam was snoring away on the couch. After one drink.
Adam came and his cock seemed to get bigger, but maybe that was Adam squeezing his throat around it, trying to milk it dry. Adam sucked him soft, not being nice about it either, but even that didn't get a rise out of Adam (double entrendre intended). He wobbled and waited, doing his usual "oh god oh god" routine when really Adam wanted him to slap him across the face. Adam came, splattering his come on Adam's wooden floors. He shifted his knees open to avoid touching it. He spat Adam's cock out, disgusted, and wiped his mouth on Adam's shirt. (As if he'd use his, which had cost a shitload.) Adam patted his hair like a dog. Adam wouldn't have minded being treated like a dog, but by a person who hated dogs. He could use a good kicking.
He wanted to get flipped onto his stomach and fucked hard, but when he'd tried to push Adam into that scenario, Adam had looked horrified and tried to hug him. He stood up. "See ya."
"Hey. Wait." Adam grabbed his arm. "You know, if you ever want to talk about this...."
Adam stared until Adam let go of his sleeve. "Talk about what?"
"Why you--" Adam waved his newly freed hand. "Why you want people to hurt you."
Adam stepped away, aiming for the door. On his knees, he was far enough from Adam's bright blue eyes that he could escape their intensity--their fluffy clouds and afternoon sky-implied goodness--but face to face he had to retreat from the unspoken but glaring plea that he try to better himself. Adam didn't know what that meant, but he was pretty sure Adam disapproved of him as a whole. Adam hadn't used him like he'd wanted. It pissed him off. "Who said anything about people?" he asked. He slammed the door behind himself. Let Adam figure that out.
He unlocked his door and slammed himself into his apartment. He hadn't even bothered to close his pants. Mrs. Randall was a peeper. She lived across the hall. He stripped his clothes off and dropped them on the floor. Then he lay down on the couch and turned on his computer. He played the porn loud and moaned along with it as he jerked off again, thinking of Adam on the other side getting hard from hearing it. He paused it a few times to see if he could hear Adam moaning too. Instead he heard classical music coming through the wall. Adam felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Yeah, that was fooling no one. Adam wanted Adam to think he was drowning out Adam's jerk-off session, but Adam knew Adam was hiding his own moans. He shot onto his stomach. It pooled in the dip at the center of his chest caused by the curve in his posture. He drew a finger through it and licked it. He dipped in again, and by the time he was clean he was hard again. He took a swig from the open bottle on his coffee table and restarted the porn. He wondered if Adam had any idea that Adam had taped himself jerking off dressed in tight jeans and an oversized sweater and that he watched it pretending it was Adam. Fuck, he wanted him like this, debauched and calling out Adam's name (that had been a little weird to do, but Adam committed to a part). He turned the volume up and listened to "Adam" call for him.
#
Adam turned up the volume on his classical music. He needed to say no next time, but Adam hadn't really given him a choice the other... two dozen?... times. He'd knocked, shoved, and knelt. Well, except for that time when he'd tried to get Adam to fuck him without lube and sorry, no, not gonna happen. Adam could just about handle the weird "fuck my face on your cock" blowjobs, but he needed to give himself a few secret tugs to get revved up for that. He didn't know what Adam's deal was, and Adam never wanted to talk about it. He was over there in his apartment now trying to set a world record for stripping his dick. Adam put his noise-canceling headphones on and collapsed onto his couch. He was wiped out. He let himself sleep, hoping that when he woke up Adam would have gone out for the night. His absence was the only way to guarantee peace. The problem was, Adam spent that supposed peace worrying about him.
It was difficult to "like" Adam. The guy was all surface and no substance. He was like a two-year-old in a lot of ways. Want and need were synonyms for him, and as far as Adam could tell, his wants and needs were limited to sex and drink with a package of ramen noodles thrown in for good measure. But maybe because he seemed incapable of taking care of himself--of even realizing that it was something he might want to consider--Adam had a soft spot for him. It wasn't an "adopt baby birds after the cat chews on them" soft spot; it was more a "teach the cat not to eat baby birds and try not to get upset when you fail because it's futile" feeling. Adam worried about Adam, and he worried about himself for worrying about Adam because Adam didn't seem to care if Adam worried, so it was pointless to do it, right?
Adam woke up to silence. He lay still, waiting. Sometimes he thought Adam could see into his apartment or hear him because often he woke to silence, but the second he moved music-- or worse, moaning--started. Adam didn't want to say bad things about people who called out their own name during self-love time, but Adam did it a lot. Adam might have done it once or twice, just to try it, but he'd ended up thinking about Adam.
Wait.
He'd ended up thinking about Adam.
Holy shit. Cow. Um. Holy cow.
"Who said anything about people?" Adam's words from earlier came back to him. Fuck. Um. Frick. Adam grabbed his sweater--it was always cold in Adam's apartment--and ran out the door. He knocked and when that didn't do anything, he pounded. Finally, he yelled. Maybe he really was out. Adam turned around and knocked on Mrs. Randall's door. She opened immediately, probably had been there watching since Adam had first knocked.
"He's in there," she said before Adam could ask. "And don't think I don't know what you boys get up to."
Panicking now, Adam turned back to the door. What if Adam had done something stupid? Not intentionally, but who knew what he got up to on his own? Adam took a deep breath, and ran shoulder first into the door. He grunted as he fell away, but he picked himself up and did it again. In movies, it took three times to knock a door down. On Adam's third time, he fell to the floor and succumbed to the pain. Adam's door opened and Adam appeared. He blinked down at Adam. He wasn't wearing a shirt and his leather pants were unlaced. Adam had just enough time to notice how innocent and unscary he looked with his hair mussed and a few strands falling over his golden eyes before he passed out. He came to immediately, before Adam had a chance to touch him and sat up. "Don't." He waved off Adam's attempt to help him stand.
"What the fuck?" Adam asked. "I was napping."
"You didn't answer the door," Adam said.
"So you thought you would break it down?" Adam looked a little pleased at this, as if some of his traits had bled over. "Well." He examined Adam with his dangerous stare. "How about you." It seemed to be more a statement on Adam's condition than a question. He gestured Adam inside. Adam sat down on the couch, noticed a white stain, and edged away from it. Adam made some noise in the kitchen and came back with an ice pack. He sat down next to Adam, forcing Adam onto the stain. Adam held the ice pack to Adam's shoulder.
"You only do it with me, don't you?" Adam asked.
"Hmm?" Adam was concentrating on the shoulder and not much else.
"Try to use me to hurt yourself. It's only me, isn't it?"
Adam glanced at him, but quickly flitted his gaze away without answering. Sighing, Adam turned his attention to the rest of the apartment. Fine, so they weren't going to talk about it. Adam would just wait until the next time Adam turned up wanting his cock and not much else. Adam noticed the computer. He leaned closer. Was that him? That was his sweater--his sweater he had on. Holy sh--cow. Oh.
Oh.
Ohhhh.
The ice pack had fallen away from his shoulder. Adam turned to see Adam staring at him, mouth working but nothing coming out. "You made that?" Adam asked.
Adam didn't move. His golden eyes had lost some of their unnerving intensity. A bit of uncertainty had crept in. Snapping out of it, he leapt forward and slammed the laptop closed.
Adam stood up. His sweater fell over his hips as he did. "You bought a sweater exactly like mine. You made that video so you could pretend I was jerking off for you." Adam's silent trembling was all the answer Adam needed. He unbuttoned his jeans and reached down to pull himself out.
"What are you... what are you doing?" God, Adam sounded scared. Adam gave him a smile, the same smile he gave the kids at the music camp he ran when they struggled with singing. It always worked to reassure them. "Get your camera, Adam. You don't need to pretend now." After a few seconds of gaping, Adam ran. Adam didn't know what he was doing, but the idea of Adam jerking off to a facsimile of him turned him on so much that he wanted it to be real. He palmed himself to an erection, still trapped in his pants. He'd pull it out on camera. Adam came back, camera ready. He set it on a tripod and aimed it at Adam. If Adam decided to be a dick and put it on the internet, Adam could always say it was Adam.
"Ready?" Adam asked. He grabbed his cock.
Adam pushed a button so the red light appeared on the camera. Adam pulled his cock out. He shoved his pants down, remembering how in the video Adam hadn't taken them all the way off. He had to lift his sweater out of the way, revealing his stomach. He scratched it and rocked into his own touch. God his fricking cock felt so big like this, being watched. Adam's attention had an effect Adam never got when it was Adam's mouth. It was the knowing, maybe, that everything had been about him. Not random people, not Adam the easy lay, but Adam himself being wanted by the hot fucked up guy next door, and that was why Adam had never sent him away. That was why Adam hadn't objected when Adam dropped to his knees and yanked his pants open. Adam had wanted it, wanted him too. Adam dropped onto the couch.
"Get your cock out," Adam said. He colored at his language as a small grin brushed Adam's lips. He scrambled to open his leather pants, though, and pulled himself out, red and ready. "Jerk off with me. I want to see you come on those expensive pants." He shuddered with want, thinking of Adam watching the video later and his video-self commanding him.
"Yeah, uh," Adam said, gasping for words. He jerked himself fast. Adam matched his movements, pace for pace. He thumbed over his slit and gasped at the sensation. Hold the sweater up, he reminded himself, and the sweater rubbed his nipples, the soft cashmere feeling rough somehow, angry against his sensitive nubs; it went straight to his cock, straight through him. He shot on Adam's glass coffee table. Adam was on it immediately, licking it. Adam stepped back, almost falling on his ass at the sight of Adam so hungry for him. He tripped over to the camera and turned it off. Returning to the couch, he grabbed Adam and shoved him backwards so he could get his mouth on Adam's cock.
"Don't, I--"
"You want this," Adam said. Seeing the truth in Adam's eyes, the acceptance that Adam refused to voice, Adam pushed him down and licked his tip. He couldn't deep throat, but it didn't matter because Adam came the second Adam got his mouth around him. Adam pushed him down by his hips, hard; there would be red marks later, maybe bruises, and Adam imagined Adam inspecting those marks later and getting hard again. He swallowed. Then, echoing Adam's usual move, suckled him soft. He pulled off and rested his cheek on Adam's inner thigh. He could feel Adam's pulse through one of the veins running just beneath.
"So, does this mean you'll fuck me?" Adam asked. He sounded part hopeful, part obnoxious. Adam closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around Adam's waist.
"Let's just say chances are looking good."
Adam tried to squirm away from the hug after a few seconds, but he didn't put much effort into it. "Stay," Adam said, in his best Command Voice. Adam made a token protest, but stopped. Adam smiled to himself and started planning his next move. High up on the list? Getting Adam to eat healthier, although, given his current diet, "healthier" could be a cheeseburger. They'd start slow, work up to salads. He rubbed Adam's back. Adam gave a disgruntled groan. Adam didn't come with order; he didn't follow rules. Adam didn't know what he'd gotten himself into, but it was going to be interesting.
The End
Author: amproof
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2846
Fandom: Adam Lambert
Pairing: Adam Lambert x 2
Disclaimer: Not real; not true. Also, impossible.
Warnings: Rough sex, confusing pronouns.
Notes: Written for fyentertainment's Dollar Drive for Adam Lambert's 30th Birthday. For deepinsideofewe, who wanted dark!subbish!Adam/good!Adam inspired by Adam new video for Better Than I Know Myself. For this to make sense I recommend watching.
Summary: Adam drops to his knees and demands to choke. Adam isn't happy about it, but he's never said "no."
"Do it harder. Fucking choke me." Adam shoved Adam's hips away and snarled next to his dick. He dove back onto it, trying to gag himself, but Adam clamped down on his shoulders and forced him to slow. Adam fought the restraining grip and tried for the cock again, mouth wide. He wanted it in his throat, down deep. Adam didn't want to taste the come when Adam shot. He wanted to choke on it. "Come on," he said, anger bubbling in him, "make me fucking feel it." He heard a sigh from above and Adam's hands fell away. Adam took advantage and impaled himself on Adam's cock. Yes! God, he was so big. Adam pulled at the laces on his leather pants and yanked his own cock out. He jerked off, rough and ready, almost regretting that he'd leaked enough pre-come to make the slide easy. He squeezed tight, searching for the pain. He gagged as he opened his throat to take Adam's cock in deep enough to get a nose full of ginger pubes. Adam was definitely going to mock him for that later. Adam's curtains matched his drapes. There was no reason for dying his hair if he wasn't going to go all out, was there?
"Adam, hey, uh." Adam's hand smacked Adam's shoulder without effort, so he ignored it. He pulled off, but only to choke himself again. He wished Adam would hold his nose. Make him feel the neediness, the fear he was going for. He wanted to, god, he wanted to faint on Adam's cock, wanted Adam to keep fucking his throat after he was out cold, but Mr. Penis of Goodness and Light would never do that, so Adam had to take matters into his own hands. It was never good enough, never truly met his need. Maybe he could get Adam drunk one night--dose his tea or something--and see if some of that goody-two-shoes nature would wash away with the whisky. Fuck, the idea was hopeless. The one time he'd convinced Adam to take a sip had not gone well.
"Drink it or you're a douche." Adam looked at the bottle, at the wet neck and Adam's moist lips and stepped backwards to stand in the middle of the hall instead of in Adam's doorway.
"I only came to see if you wanted to join the neighborhood watch?" Adam glanced down the hall, as if plotting his escape route.
"Are you sure that's why you came? Because it doesn't sound like you're sure." Adam grinned at him--it wasn't a leer; losers leered--and, grabbing him by the front of his "Charity is Love" shirt, yanked him inside. After a fucking ridiculous amount of hemming and hawing, Adam finally took a drink. Adam ignored Adam's chatter. Why Adam thought he gave a quarter-fuck about neighborhood patrols and pooper-scooping--did Adam see a dog in the apartment?--was beyond Adam. Finally Adam just got his dick out, but when he turned around to surprise Adam with it, Adam was snoring away on the couch. After one drink.
Adam came and his cock seemed to get bigger, but maybe that was Adam squeezing his throat around it, trying to milk it dry. Adam sucked him soft, not being nice about it either, but even that didn't get a rise out of Adam (double entrendre intended). He wobbled and waited, doing his usual "oh god oh god" routine when really Adam wanted him to slap him across the face. Adam came, splattering his come on Adam's wooden floors. He shifted his knees open to avoid touching it. He spat Adam's cock out, disgusted, and wiped his mouth on Adam's shirt. (As if he'd use his, which had cost a shitload.) Adam patted his hair like a dog. Adam wouldn't have minded being treated like a dog, but by a person who hated dogs. He could use a good kicking.
He wanted to get flipped onto his stomach and fucked hard, but when he'd tried to push Adam into that scenario, Adam had looked horrified and tried to hug him. He stood up. "See ya."
"Hey. Wait." Adam grabbed his arm. "You know, if you ever want to talk about this...."
Adam stared until Adam let go of his sleeve. "Talk about what?"
"Why you--" Adam waved his newly freed hand. "Why you want people to hurt you."
Adam stepped away, aiming for the door. On his knees, he was far enough from Adam's bright blue eyes that he could escape their intensity--their fluffy clouds and afternoon sky-implied goodness--but face to face he had to retreat from the unspoken but glaring plea that he try to better himself. Adam didn't know what that meant, but he was pretty sure Adam disapproved of him as a whole. Adam hadn't used him like he'd wanted. It pissed him off. "Who said anything about people?" he asked. He slammed the door behind himself. Let Adam figure that out.
He unlocked his door and slammed himself into his apartment. He hadn't even bothered to close his pants. Mrs. Randall was a peeper. She lived across the hall. He stripped his clothes off and dropped them on the floor. Then he lay down on the couch and turned on his computer. He played the porn loud and moaned along with it as he jerked off again, thinking of Adam on the other side getting hard from hearing it. He paused it a few times to see if he could hear Adam moaning too. Instead he heard classical music coming through the wall. Adam felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Yeah, that was fooling no one. Adam wanted Adam to think he was drowning out Adam's jerk-off session, but Adam knew Adam was hiding his own moans. He shot onto his stomach. It pooled in the dip at the center of his chest caused by the curve in his posture. He drew a finger through it and licked it. He dipped in again, and by the time he was clean he was hard again. He took a swig from the open bottle on his coffee table and restarted the porn. He wondered if Adam had any idea that Adam had taped himself jerking off dressed in tight jeans and an oversized sweater and that he watched it pretending it was Adam. Fuck, he wanted him like this, debauched and calling out Adam's name (that had been a little weird to do, but Adam committed to a part). He turned the volume up and listened to "Adam" call for him.
#
Adam turned up the volume on his classical music. He needed to say no next time, but Adam hadn't really given him a choice the other... two dozen?... times. He'd knocked, shoved, and knelt. Well, except for that time when he'd tried to get Adam to fuck him without lube and sorry, no, not gonna happen. Adam could just about handle the weird "fuck my face on your cock" blowjobs, but he needed to give himself a few secret tugs to get revved up for that. He didn't know what Adam's deal was, and Adam never wanted to talk about it. He was over there in his apartment now trying to set a world record for stripping his dick. Adam put his noise-canceling headphones on and collapsed onto his couch. He was wiped out. He let himself sleep, hoping that when he woke up Adam would have gone out for the night. His absence was the only way to guarantee peace. The problem was, Adam spent that supposed peace worrying about him.
It was difficult to "like" Adam. The guy was all surface and no substance. He was like a two-year-old in a lot of ways. Want and need were synonyms for him, and as far as Adam could tell, his wants and needs were limited to sex and drink with a package of ramen noodles thrown in for good measure. But maybe because he seemed incapable of taking care of himself--of even realizing that it was something he might want to consider--Adam had a soft spot for him. It wasn't an "adopt baby birds after the cat chews on them" soft spot; it was more a "teach the cat not to eat baby birds and try not to get upset when you fail because it's futile" feeling. Adam worried about Adam, and he worried about himself for worrying about Adam because Adam didn't seem to care if Adam worried, so it was pointless to do it, right?
Adam woke up to silence. He lay still, waiting. Sometimes he thought Adam could see into his apartment or hear him because often he woke to silence, but the second he moved music-- or worse, moaning--started. Adam didn't want to say bad things about people who called out their own name during self-love time, but Adam did it a lot. Adam might have done it once or twice, just to try it, but he'd ended up thinking about Adam.
Wait.
He'd ended up thinking about Adam.
Holy shit. Cow. Um. Holy cow.
"Who said anything about people?" Adam's words from earlier came back to him. Fuck. Um. Frick. Adam grabbed his sweater--it was always cold in Adam's apartment--and ran out the door. He knocked and when that didn't do anything, he pounded. Finally, he yelled. Maybe he really was out. Adam turned around and knocked on Mrs. Randall's door. She opened immediately, probably had been there watching since Adam had first knocked.
"He's in there," she said before Adam could ask. "And don't think I don't know what you boys get up to."
Panicking now, Adam turned back to the door. What if Adam had done something stupid? Not intentionally, but who knew what he got up to on his own? Adam took a deep breath, and ran shoulder first into the door. He grunted as he fell away, but he picked himself up and did it again. In movies, it took three times to knock a door down. On Adam's third time, he fell to the floor and succumbed to the pain. Adam's door opened and Adam appeared. He blinked down at Adam. He wasn't wearing a shirt and his leather pants were unlaced. Adam had just enough time to notice how innocent and unscary he looked with his hair mussed and a few strands falling over his golden eyes before he passed out. He came to immediately, before Adam had a chance to touch him and sat up. "Don't." He waved off Adam's attempt to help him stand.
"What the fuck?" Adam asked. "I was napping."
"You didn't answer the door," Adam said.
"So you thought you would break it down?" Adam looked a little pleased at this, as if some of his traits had bled over. "Well." He examined Adam with his dangerous stare. "How about you." It seemed to be more a statement on Adam's condition than a question. He gestured Adam inside. Adam sat down on the couch, noticed a white stain, and edged away from it. Adam made some noise in the kitchen and came back with an ice pack. He sat down next to Adam, forcing Adam onto the stain. Adam held the ice pack to Adam's shoulder.
"You only do it with me, don't you?" Adam asked.
"Hmm?" Adam was concentrating on the shoulder and not much else.
"Try to use me to hurt yourself. It's only me, isn't it?"
Adam glanced at him, but quickly flitted his gaze away without answering. Sighing, Adam turned his attention to the rest of the apartment. Fine, so they weren't going to talk about it. Adam would just wait until the next time Adam turned up wanting his cock and not much else. Adam noticed the computer. He leaned closer. Was that him? That was his sweater--his sweater he had on. Holy sh--cow. Oh.
Oh.
Ohhhh.
The ice pack had fallen away from his shoulder. Adam turned to see Adam staring at him, mouth working but nothing coming out. "You made that?" Adam asked.
Adam didn't move. His golden eyes had lost some of their unnerving intensity. A bit of uncertainty had crept in. Snapping out of it, he leapt forward and slammed the laptop closed.
Adam stood up. His sweater fell over his hips as he did. "You bought a sweater exactly like mine. You made that video so you could pretend I was jerking off for you." Adam's silent trembling was all the answer Adam needed. He unbuttoned his jeans and reached down to pull himself out.
"What are you... what are you doing?" God, Adam sounded scared. Adam gave him a smile, the same smile he gave the kids at the music camp he ran when they struggled with singing. It always worked to reassure them. "Get your camera, Adam. You don't need to pretend now." After a few seconds of gaping, Adam ran. Adam didn't know what he was doing, but the idea of Adam jerking off to a facsimile of him turned him on so much that he wanted it to be real. He palmed himself to an erection, still trapped in his pants. He'd pull it out on camera. Adam came back, camera ready. He set it on a tripod and aimed it at Adam. If Adam decided to be a dick and put it on the internet, Adam could always say it was Adam.
"Ready?" Adam asked. He grabbed his cock.
Adam pushed a button so the red light appeared on the camera. Adam pulled his cock out. He shoved his pants down, remembering how in the video Adam hadn't taken them all the way off. He had to lift his sweater out of the way, revealing his stomach. He scratched it and rocked into his own touch. God his fricking cock felt so big like this, being watched. Adam's attention had an effect Adam never got when it was Adam's mouth. It was the knowing, maybe, that everything had been about him. Not random people, not Adam the easy lay, but Adam himself being wanted by the hot fucked up guy next door, and that was why Adam had never sent him away. That was why Adam hadn't objected when Adam dropped to his knees and yanked his pants open. Adam had wanted it, wanted him too. Adam dropped onto the couch.
"Get your cock out," Adam said. He colored at his language as a small grin brushed Adam's lips. He scrambled to open his leather pants, though, and pulled himself out, red and ready. "Jerk off with me. I want to see you come on those expensive pants." He shuddered with want, thinking of Adam watching the video later and his video-self commanding him.
"Yeah, uh," Adam said, gasping for words. He jerked himself fast. Adam matched his movements, pace for pace. He thumbed over his slit and gasped at the sensation. Hold the sweater up, he reminded himself, and the sweater rubbed his nipples, the soft cashmere feeling rough somehow, angry against his sensitive nubs; it went straight to his cock, straight through him. He shot on Adam's glass coffee table. Adam was on it immediately, licking it. Adam stepped back, almost falling on his ass at the sight of Adam so hungry for him. He tripped over to the camera and turned it off. Returning to the couch, he grabbed Adam and shoved him backwards so he could get his mouth on Adam's cock.
"Don't, I--"
"You want this," Adam said. Seeing the truth in Adam's eyes, the acceptance that Adam refused to voice, Adam pushed him down and licked his tip. He couldn't deep throat, but it didn't matter because Adam came the second Adam got his mouth around him. Adam pushed him down by his hips, hard; there would be red marks later, maybe bruises, and Adam imagined Adam inspecting those marks later and getting hard again. He swallowed. Then, echoing Adam's usual move, suckled him soft. He pulled off and rested his cheek on Adam's inner thigh. He could feel Adam's pulse through one of the veins running just beneath.
"So, does this mean you'll fuck me?" Adam asked. He sounded part hopeful, part obnoxious. Adam closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around Adam's waist.
"Let's just say chances are looking good."
Adam tried to squirm away from the hug after a few seconds, but he didn't put much effort into it. "Stay," Adam said, in his best Command Voice. Adam made a token protest, but stopped. Adam smiled to himself and started planning his next move. High up on the list? Getting Adam to eat healthier, although, given his current diet, "healthier" could be a cheeseburger. They'd start slow, work up to salads. He rubbed Adam's back. Adam gave a disgruntled groan. Adam didn't come with order; he didn't follow rules. Adam didn't know what he'd gotten himself into, but it was going to be interesting.
The End