More [1/2] | Brendon Urie/Adam Lambert | NC-17 | ~ 18000 words
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Brendon Urie/Adam Lambert | NC-17 | ~18000 words | Kiss And Tell should be read as a prequel to this story.
"Don't you have experience with this kind of thing?" Adam asks.
"Dick?" Brendon asks, blinking.
I owe wearemany and airgiodslv MASSIVE thanks for all their help. wearemany helped me plot this out, and while I don't know if I did the original idea justice, I definitely would have never been able to write this without her help and insight. Thanks for talking this through with me, and then for betaing! Also, airgiodslv let me send this to her tiny sections at a time and her encouragement made writing this a million times more fun. This is for and because of them. I ♥ you guys! :D
I am not asking for mercy. I am asking for more.
From "Asking for More" by Sarah Manguso
The next time they meet, Brendon's drunk and stoned, and Adam's hair is gelled up in spikes around the top of his head. Brendon wants to touch the little points with his palm.
It's another industry thing, and Brendon and Ryan are making an appearance on behalf of Panic. Promoting a new CD is kind of a bitch, especially because it hasn't been released yet, so Brendon has to answer question after question about what the new sound is going to be like.
"Yeah, pretty much just taking off where we left with the last CD," Brendon says. The mic isn't that close to his mouth, so he hopes they can still hear him. Ryan's standing with his hands in his pockets, staring at something that's happening over the reporter's shoulder. They totally should not have smoked up during the car ride over. Brendon's eyes are probably bloodshot. At least it's making it a little more interesting to do press. He tries to elbow Ryan discreetly.
"We all work on the songs together," Ryan says slowly, slowly, laughing softly to himself before closing his mouth.
"I can't wait to go back on tour," Brendon says. "Touring is-- making music, it's just so awesome to get to do this."
The reporter looks thoroughly unimpressed, so Brendon smiles brightly and stops talking.
--
There's an open bar, so Brendon feels like he should be ordering something more awesome than Coronas. There are still a lot of cameras around; he just sticks with beer. There are a lot of cameras around, and when Brendon makes eye contact, Adam gives him a closed mouth smile, but doesn't come over.
Brendon's been absentmindedly tracking Adam around the room all night. It's something to do; Brendon doesn't know many people here. Adam looks like he has a lot more fun doing press than Brendon does. Right now, Adam's leaning up against a wall, rubbing the back of his finger carefully along the skin under his eye, like he's making sure his eyeliner hasn't smeared. Or, hasn't smeared other than in the carefully careless way it's smudged around his eyes. Brendon's worn eyeliner before: he knows it doesn't go on looking like that.
Brendon slams the rest of the nearly-full bottle of beer, sets it on a cluttered bar, and walks across the room. Adam isn't talking with anyone right now, so it's easy for Brendon to sidle up near him on the wall.
"It must be nice to be done with Idol," Brendon says.
"Yeah, I guess," Adam says.
"You like touring?" Brendon asks.
"It's definitely been a blast. I'm looking forward to getting to spend time in the studio now."
"We just got out of the studio."
"Yeah? New CD coming out?"
"End of next month," Brendon says. "Hopefully."
"Right on."
Brendon runs his fingers through his bangs, tugging them back into place. "Hey, so what are you doing after this?" Brendon asks.
Adam gives Brendon a long look, his eyes sliding down and then back up again, before grinning.
--
"Jesus," Brendon groans. "Yeah, yeah, fucking-- just like that, fuck, your mouth and--"
Adam does this thing with the hand he's got cupped around Brendon's balls, and then he takes Brendon in deep and swallows and pulls up in this long stroke, his mouth making wet sounds and he sucks, and Brendon curses loudly, banging his hand on Adam's shoulder just before coming.
Brendon's knees buckle, and he almost slides down to the floor before he catches himself with a hand to the wall. He leans back heavily and catches his breath. They're in a room with a door, somewhere far away from the crowd, which is not entirely ideal as it lacks any flat surfaces, but at least there's some privacy.
While Adam stands, Brendon tucks his dick back into his pants. Adam straightens and leans forward, his arms out in front of him, palms pressed to the wall on either side of Brendon's head. Brendon could duck under one of Adam's arms and try to get their positions reversed, but he stays where he is because he's starting to crash and the wall is actually very helpful to the process of remaining upright.
Adam looks down at him, his head tilted to one side. Brendon bounces up on the balls of his feet, trying to wake himself up again, and reaches for Adam's pants. He gets the button undone, slides the zipper down, but the pants get stuck when he tries to push them past Adam's hips.
"Those are never coming off," Brendon says, ducking his head and giggling into Adam's shoulder.
"Don't you have experience with this kind of thing?" Adam asks.
"Dick?" Brendon asks, blinking.
Adam's face freezes for a minute before splitting into a grin. He tips his head back when he laughs. He bends his arms, lets his body crowd against Brendon, his hips nudging forward.
"I mean tight pants," Adam says. "But I guess that answers another question."
"If you really want those pants off you will have to lie down so that I can pull from the bottom," Brendon says. "But I think I can jerk you off just like this."
Adam closes his mouth, though Brendon can still hear him snort, and raises his eyebrows like, go for it.
Brendon debates for a moment if he should pull Adam's dick out from under the elastic or through the slit in his underwear, eventually deciding on the latter. He doesn't feel equipped to battle elastic right now. He slides his fingers along warm, smooth skin, rubbing his thumb in a quick circle when he reaches the crown, then pulls his hand to his mouth and spits into his palm.
He jacks Adam quickly, his wrist bending at an awkward angle. His thumb rubs up the base as his fingers wrap around the shaft, which is opposite to the grip he uses on himself. He gets the head of Adam's dick on the down stroke instead of the base, and it takes his brain a minute to figure out how to work a twist in to the end of each stroke. He thinks he's doing okay, because his palm slides wetly when he rubs it over the head of Adam's dick.
Brendon doesn't know where to look. Adam's head is bent, so he can't really see his face. When he looks down, there are mostly just clothes to look at: Brendon's still dressed, and Adam is too except for his dick. Adam's hips arch forward, his torso curving away. Brendon wishes that Adam's hands were still on the wall. He starts wondering what is going to happen when Adam comes. He doesn't want there to be a mess all over his clothes; he still has to get back to his suite. He starts wondering if Adam is ever going to come, so he speeds up the tempo.
Adam's been totally silent this far, so Brendon takes it as a good sign when his breath finally hitches. When he comes, a little bit of it gets of Brendon's shirt, but mostly he is able to collect it in his palm, shaking the wetness off his hand after Adam's done. He wipes his hand on the wall behind him, which is only marginally helpful, and dabs at the spot on his shirt with his dry hand.
Adam brings both hands up to rest on either side of his own neck, stretching his back by lifting his shoulders.
"This is super classy," Adam says. "You know I have a room, right? That you have a room?"
"Yeah, but then we would have had to call a cab."
"Where are you staying?" Adam asks. "I'm within walking distance."
"Well, me too," Brendon says. But then I would have had to find Zack to tell him I was leaving, and he would have walked back with us, and probably that would have ruined the mood. He settles on, "I think the people I came with are still here, and we were all going to leave together."
"Whatever," Adam says.
"How long are you in New York for?" Brendon asks.
"Couple of days."
"Maybe I'll see you again," Brendon says, looking up at Adam. His hand is still sticky and he press his fingers to his palm, makes a fist, relaxes his grip, tightens again.
"Maybe you should go find your people," Adam says.
"Lunch," Brendon says. "Somewhere within walking distance. I don't have to be anywhere until after three tomorrow."
Brendon doesn't know what he's doing right now. It's not like he usually feels compelled to meet up again after hooking up.
"I've got to do a TV spot," Adam says. "So I have to be up at four in the morning."
Brendon stands quietly. He feels kind of nervous that Adam is going to say no, which is exactly why he's not going to back down.
Finally Adam shakes his head and says, "Yeah, okay, after. I could meet you somewhere once I was done shooting."
"Great," Brendon says. "Give me your phone so I can put in my number. You can text me when you're done."
He smoothes his hand over his shirt again, says, "See ya," and ducks out of the room, closing the door behind himself, even though he knows that'll probably irritate Adam.
He walks away in search of Zack and Ryan.
--
*
--
Brendon spends the walk over to the restaurant wondering if he should get a table and leave his name at the door, or if he should just wait in the entrance, but it doesn't end up mattering because when he gets there Adam is already waiting outside.
He takes off his pair of aviators when he sees Brendon walk up, and says, "Hey."
"How was your thing?" Brendon asks.
"Alright," Adam says before yawning hugely. "Sorry," he says, touching the back of his hand to his mouth.
Brendon laughs. "They didn't give you coffee?"
"No," Adam says slowly. "I'm pretty sure there was coffee. I don't entirely remember, because of how I was asleep in the makeup chair, but I'm pretty sure somewhere in there was a cup of coffee."
"Early morning press is the worst," Brendon says, holding the door open behind himself for Adam as he walks into the restaurant. "I usually just stay up all night because it's harder to wake up after a couple of hours' sleep than to stay up entirely."
"I don't know, man," Adam says. "I've been trying to get all the sleep I can."
"They keep you pretty busy?" Brendon asks. He says, "For two, please."
"You could say that," Adam says, and then someone comes to lead them to a table.
--
The soup has creamed cauliflower, leeks, artichoke hearts, walnuts and is, "So good," Brendon says. "Oh my god, how is this so good?"
He takes another spoonful of soup, a bite of bread, and a sip of his drink and then starts chewing.
Adam shakes his head and laughs. He reaches out like he's going to touch Brendon's hand, resting on the table, but catches himself before he makes contact. Brendon's fingers twitch, and he nudges his toe against Adam's under the table
"The food's good," Adam agrees.
"And very much within walking distance," Brendon says.
"Yeah, yeah," Adam says. "Your people let you out unsupervised tonight?"
"We're not really that famous," Brendon says. "It's not like I go everywhere with security. Just to events and stuff. There's probably more of a chance that you'll be recognized than me right now."
There's more of a chance of Adam being noticed, period. He's got black smudged around his eyes, makeup that hasn't washed away fully, and is wearing snakeskin boots and shiny grey pants.
"Which is crazy," Adam says.
"But kind of awesome," Brendon says.
Adam grins, his thumb running along the handle of his fork. "But kind of awesome," he agrees.
--
"Shit," Brendon says. "Is it seriously quarter to three? I'm so late right now, Zack's going to kill me." He looks around the room, trying to find the waiter so that he can wave over the bill. He and Adam both finished eating ages ago. Adam's coffee cup has probably been refilled a half dozen times; Brendon reminds himself to leave a big tip.
"You can go. I'll take care of this," Adam says.
"No, no," Brendon says. "I've got it."
"Seriously," Adam says. "If you're late just make a run for it."
"I'm sure if I just go to the front they'll ring me up." He stands, sliding on his jacket while still scanning the restaurant.
"Go," Adam says. "I've got this."
"Are you sure?" he asks, standing at the head of the table.
Adam reaches over and swats at his forearm. "Yes, I'm sure," he says, rolling his eyes.
Brendon catches Adam's hand with the tips of his fingers before Adam has pulled away entirely.
"Hey, thanks," he says. "But you know this means I have to take you out for dinner now."
Adam ducks his head, then smiles up at Brendon. "Well, if that's what it means..."
"I've got your number," Brendon says. "I'll call you. I'm going to run now."
"'kay," Adam says.
Brendon looks back over his shoulder as he heads out the door. Adam's sitting with his hands stretched out on the table. Brendon can see one of his legs poking out past the corner of the white table cloth, like his thighs are spread. Brendon likes Adam's boots. They're kind of like a pair that Brendon has but-- more, he doesn't know how exactly.
When he nearly bumps into someone because he isn't looking where he's going, he turns back around.
--
*
--
"Oh my god," Brendon shrieks into the phone. "You totally sound like that guy from American Idol, oh my god, did I seriously just get a hold of Adam? This is the greatest day of my life."
"You're hilarious," Adam says dryly, but Brendon can totally hear him crack up.
"Hey, so what are you up to night now?"
"I'm in New York, what the hell do you think I'm up to?" Adam asks.
Brendon makes a, "Mhh," noise into the telephone.
"Shopping," Adam says. "I'm shopping."
"You want to meet up?" Brendon asks.
--
"Okay, so I was like, in a bit of a Western phase for a while, but not so much anymore--"
"I don't know," Adam says, sitting on the bench beside Brendon. "They go up pretty high. Would you tuck them into your jeans?"
"I did that at the VMAs one year," Brendon says. "But maybe not so much these days."
"Your pants would hang really funny over top of these," Adam says. "Why can't you just try the shorter ones?"
"Because the stitching on these is fucking sweet," Brendon says.
"You own like a million shoes that you never wear, don't you?" Adam asks.
"Kind of," Brendon says. "I have worn cowboy boots before though."
"Those are awesome boots," Adam says. "But you'd need to tuck your pants in. You just have to acknowledge this."
Brendon flexes his calves, rocking his toes from side to side. The leather's so soft, and already distressed, so they feel amazing, and there's swirly stitching up the side, and he still doesn't know if that's reason enough to spend a couple grand on a pair of boots that he's never going to wear. Maybe they could change the aesthetic of their stage show again. He misses the boots that he wore on the Circus tour.
"We could go back to the store with all the sneakers," Adam offers.
"What time is it?" Brendon asks, looking around. "Do you think it will still be open? Maybe we should just go to dinner. Are you going to buy those?"
"I feel like I've already got a couple of pairs of purple shoes," Adam says.
"They're kind of more grey then purple," Brendon says.
"True. I have a jacket that would go with these," Adam says.
"I like them," Brendon says. He rocks his toes again. "What I really need is a new belt."
"I thought you liked showing off your underwear," Adam says. "Why else would you be wearing bright orange?"
"You know what? I like to keep things interesting for my dick, okay?" Brendon says. "Don't even start with me."
"That's how you keep things interesting for your dick?" Adam asks, raising both his eyebrows.
Brendon mutters, "Shut up," and elbows Adam. "Go buy your boots so that I can take you to dinner."
--
*
--
"Where are you off to after New York?" Adam asks.
Brendon swallows his sip of wine. "LA," he says. "Back to LA. I moved there last year."
"Oh yeah?" Adam asks. "I've been living in Hollywood for a while now. How do you like it?"
"It's been good," Brendon says. "I moved from Vegas, so it wasn't too far. It's a different scene though."
"Definitely," Adam says.
"This time 'round we didn't record our CD in a casino," Brendon says. "Just for one example."
"Ha ha, seriously?"
Brendon nods.
Someone comes by their table and starts clearing away empty plates. "Would you like anything else?"
Brendon looks at Adam. He doesn't really want to leave yet, but he's full and it's getting late.
"I think we're good," Adam says.
"Just the bill," Brendon says.
He pays, and they walk out of the restaurant together.
"Do you want to get a drink or something?" Brendon asks.
Adam grimaces and says, "I do, but I shouldn't. I'm flying to Orlando tomorrow, and it blows to fly hungover."
"That's why they serve alcohol on planes," Brendon jokes.
"I'm just down this way," Adam says, nodding up the street. "I don't know if you wanted to--"
"We could just hang out for a bit," Brendon says.
"Yeah, if you wanted to hang out."
--
Adam kisses fucking dirty, his tongue sliding into Brendon's mouth. It's late and they've both got the beginnings of stubble, and their cheeks rub together roughly. Their mouths come together roughly, and Brendon's so turned on his head feels dizzy. He wants, but he'd rather not take the time to figure out what he wants, he just wants, just wants more.
They make their way over to the bed, and it takes a while to get both of them out of their tight pants, long enough that Brendon's head starts to clear. Adam pushes him down, stretches out over him, their chests sliding together as he makes his way back up, his thigh pushing in between Brendon's legs. Brendon's shirt is balled up under his shoulder, and he reaches behind himself, grabs it and throws it off the bed.
"What do you like?" Adam asks.
Brendon shakes his head soundlessly, trying to pull Adam down for another kiss. He only likes talking in bed when he's actively in the process of achieving orgasm.
Adam ducks his head, but stops before their lips make contact. He says, "No, seriously."
"Before was good," Brendon says. "I liked it like before."
"You want me to blow you?"
"Yup," Brendon says tightly. He turns his head to the side, trying to find a little more air. Adam's on top of him, and even though he isn't actually putting pressure on Brendon's chest, Brendon feels like he can't breathe.
It's better when Adam moves down, better yet when he puts his mouth on Brendon's dick. Adam gives really good head. Brendon's nowhere near as drunk this time and he feels like he's going to come really fast, like he's right on the edge already from the moment that Adam starts sucking him, like it's just a matter of figuring out how to push the rest of the way over.
He leaves his hands on the bed, except when he gets really close and moves his hand to his hip, his fingers digging into his skin like that's going to help him hold back. He comes hard, his shoulders lifting off the bed as he tries to curl in on himself. It's intense, but it takes a while before it slides into too much, even though Adam keeps sucking him the whole way through.
Adam touches the back of his hand, and Brendon forces his fingers to loosen, moves his hand away entirely. Adam stretches out on the bed beside him, holding himself up on one elbow and bending down to kiss Brendon's shoulder.
Brendon covers his face with his open palm, closes his eyes and breathes deeply before pulling his hand away and forcing himself to roll over. Adam moves with him, lying flat on his back, and Brendon crawls sideways until he's settled in between Adam's legs.
He looks at Adam's cock, which is still hard and lying against his belly, and wonders if he's actually going to do with, but when Adam flexes his hips forward, Brendon bends down and takes Adam's dick into his mouth.
Brendon works into a rhythm pretty quickly, bobbing his head up and down as he holds himself up with both hands flat to the bed on either side of Adam.
"Hey, hey, could you just--" Adam says, reaching down. Brendon bats his hand away and tries to suck harder, and Adam doesn't say anything else.
Brendon's jaw aches, and he doesn't know how this can possibly be taking so long. Sucking dick is pretty boring: up and down, up and down. His tongue hurts down the center. His mouth is getting kind of phlegm-y from when Adam's dick brushes up against the back of his throat. There's this loud slurping noise when he tries to increase the suction, which is kind of embarrassing. Up and down, up and down.
Adam pokes at his shoulder and pokes again and finally Brendon pulls off. Adam grabs his dick and jerks himself the rest of the way off, coming on his stomach instead of in Brendon's mouth, something that Brendon appreciates.
He opens his mouth wide, moving his jaw from side to side. He climbs onto his feet and starts gathering up his clothes. When he turns around again, Adam is still lying on the bed, his palm resting on his chest.
"You've probably got an early flight tomorrow," Brendon says, tilting his head toward the door.
"Sure," Adam says.
Brendon shuffles over to the edge of the bed. Adam doesn't move away when Brendon bends down to peck him on the lips, but he doesn't kiss back, and he doesn't move his hand off of his chest.
"We're both going to end up in the same place," Brendon says. "Eventually. The same-ish place. You should give me a call when you get back."
"Seriously?" Adam asks, sounding dubious.
"Yeah," Brendon says. "I've still got to buy a new belt sometime."
"You are one strange little dude," Adam says. He's naked and sprawled across the sheets and he looks good. Brendon wipes his damp palm across his thigh.
"So I'll talk to you later?" Brendon asks.
Adam shakes his head, but he says, "Yeah, I'll call you when I get back."
"Sweet," Brendon says and then lets himself out.
--
Ryan's sitting in the main room of their suite, watching late night TV.
"Late night," Ryan says when Brendon walks through the door.
"I walked back here," Brendon says, "so that took a little while."
"What's her name?" Ryan asks as Brendon toes off his shoes and starts making his way toward the bathroom.
"None of your business, Ross," Brendon calls over his shoulder. He turns the shower on hot and starts stripping off his clothes. There's a patch of raw skin at the base of his throat, Brendon notices as he looks at himself in the mirror. He touches his fingers to the redness, then steps into the shower.
He dries off and wraps himself up in one of the hotel's white terrycloth towels before walking out of the bathroom.
"Zack said that he's coming to get us at noon for breakfast," Ryan says. "He wants to see how many bagels he can eat while we're in New York."
"Okay," Brendon says. "Wake me up when you guys are ready to go, I'm going to crash now."
--
*
--
"Hey buddy," Shane calls when Brendon walks into the house. "How was your trip?"
"Pretty good," Brendon says. "Except during the parts where we had to give interviews."
Shane laughs. "I made chicken last night and there are leftovers in the fridge."
"'kay, sweet," Brendon says. "We didn't get a meal on the plane."
Dylan comes walking down the hall.
"Hey baby," Brendon says, crouching down to pet her. "Did you miss me? Where's Bogart? Were you keeping him company?" He calls to Shane, "Have the dogs already had their treats today?"
"Yeah," Shane says. "But you could give them like half each if you wanted to. I took them on a long walk."
"C'mon," Brendon says, standing up. "C'mon, I've got food for you. C'mon. Bogart!"
--
*
--
Brendon doesn't actually know when Adam's getting back, so he's not surprised when Adam calls, only because he didn't know what he should expect.
"You're back," Brendon says.
"I'm back."
"For how long?"
"A little while," Adam says. "I'm not exactly sure about my schedule right now. Long enough to help you pick out a belt, anyway."
"Just what I was hoping to hear," Brendon says. "When and where do you want to meet?"
--
"Shane, I'm going out tonight," Brendon calls. He's standing in the hallway, fixing his hair in the mirror. He cut himself a little when he was shaving, but he doesn't think it shows too badly.
"Anything interesting happening?" Shane asks.
"Nah," Brendon says. "I'm just seeing a friend."
"It's your turn to let the dogs out tomorrow morning. I think I'm going to be sleeping over at Regan's tonight."
"Sure," Brendon says. "I'll leave my door open so I can hear when they want to go out."
"I'll see you tomorrow," Shane says.
--
Brendon lifts the hem of his shirt, looking at the belt in the mirror.
"Maybe it's a little big," he says.
"You're just small," Adam says.
In the mirror, Brendon watches Adam walk up behind him.
"I think it looks good," Adam says, standing beside and behind Brendon. "It's got a pretty rad buckle."
Brendon taps his fingers on the metal and says, "Yeah." The store is open extended hours because it's Wednesday night, and he and Adam are the only ones at this end of the store. Adam takes a step closer, until he's standing right behind Brendon. He pauses for a moment, and Brendon shuffles backward half a step.
"It works with these jeans," Adam says, running his fingers over one of Brendon's belt loops. Brendon can't actually feel the touch, but when Adam cups Brendon's hips, one hand on each side, Brendon can feel that.
Adam's a head taller than Brendon, and Brendon can feel him pressed all the way up his back. Adam spreads his fingers so that his first finger slides off the waistband of Brendon's jeans and onto bare skin, then moves his whole hand, his palm rubbing across Brendon's belly. He drags his hand upward and Brendon's shirt, caught on Adam's wrist, lifts as well. He leaves that hand resting on Brendon's belly, and brings the other one down to slide over the metal buckle.
"I like the way it joins with the leather," Adam says, moving his fingers in demonstration.
Brendon's breath is caught him his chest, so he nods his head instead of speaking, just a little movement, but he can feel his hair being ruffled by Adam's chest. His body feels like it wants to lean back and let Adam hold him up, like he should arch his hips forward or maybe rub his ass back, but they're in the middle of the store. Brendon stays firmly on his feet.
"So, I guess I'll buy it then," Brendon says, his voice coming out low and tight.
Adam flexes his fingers, his short nails pressing into Brendon's skin, before saying, "Yeah," and stepping away entirely.
Brendon has trouble getting the belt undone so that he can take it up to the counter to pay.
He waits for the girl to ring it up, glances over at Adam, who's standing by the door to the shop. Adam's obviously watching him, and he doesn't look away when Brendon turns his head.
He finishes paying and walks over to Adam.
"How far away is your place?" Adam asks as they walk down the street.
"It's not, I mean, but I've got a roommate," Brendon says. "So."
"I don't," Adam says.
"Awesome, yeah, so, we should, oh, hey, look." Brendon points up ahead. "There's a movie theatre. Do you want to see what's playing?"
"You want to go watch a movie?" Adam asks.
"It's still pretty early," Brendon says. "And then we can, and then we could go back to your place."
Adam gives him an incredulous look.
"We don't have to," Brendon says. "Just since we're right here."
"Uh, yeah, whatever," Adam says. "Lead the way."
--
It's after one when they finally get out of the theatre, and the movie was shit so Brendon's half asleep. He blinks at the brightness of the lights as they walk through the lobby.
He rubs his cheek and watches Adam move his bangs to the side with a careful sweep of his fingers.
"And on that note, I think we should call it a night," Adam says.
Brendon nods, and bites the inside of his cheek.
Adam adjusts the collar of his jacket, rolls his shoulders, and says goodbye. Brendon stands at the exit of the theatre for a moment, watching Adam walk down the street, before he turns in the opposite direction and heads back to his car.
Shane's not going to be home tonight, and Brendon's tired but not tired enough to go back to his empty house. He heads for Ryan's instead, not bothering to call first and check if Ryan's there. Even if Ryan's out, Eric might be home, and even if Eric isn't home, at least Brendon will have killed some time in the drive.
The lights are on in the house. He parks the car in their driveway and makes his way up to the front door. No one answers, so he walks around back instead.
Ryan and Eric are sitting at opposite ends of the couch, the outdoor lights glowing softly in a line around the deck. There's a bong on the ground in front of them and Brendon says, "You guys know how to have a good time."
"Hey," Eric says, lifting his hand to slap Brendon's in hello.
"What's up?" Ryan asks.
"Nothing much. Just thought I'd drop by. Were you thinking of starting another bowl?" Brendon asks, settling on the couch in between them.
"Did you and Shane run out of weed?" Ryan asks.
"What a thing to say," Brendon protests. "Me and Shane run out of weed. Not likely."
Ryan laughs and says, "Well, if you insist, I guess we could pack another."
--
They finish the bowl and Ryan and Eric head into the house and off to bed.
"I'm just going to crash here for a bit," Brendon says. "So that I can drive home."
"You want to come inside?" Ryan offers. "There's a couch, or the spare bedroom if you feel up to looking for clean sheets. Or just call a cab."
"Nah, I'm good," Brendon says. "You made the backyard all vibey for a reason."
"I'll leave the door unlocked," Ryan says. "If you change your mind."
Brendon stretches out on the couch. It's make of outdoor-safe material and squeaks a little when he shifts his weight. He lets his hand hang off the edge until his fingers brush against rock, drags the tips of his fingers in a line, feeling grit collect under his nails.
It's the middle of night, but the lights are still on so he can see. He reaches for his cellphone and sets his alarm for five a.m. so that he won't accidentally sleep too long and not be there to let the dogs out, then crosses his hands behind his head and closes his eyes.
--
The roads are quiet and the sun has just finished rising when Brendon gets into his car to drive back home.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket when he's stopped at a red light, texts Adam: Can we do last nite over? ;)
Adam doesn't text back. Of course he doesn't; he'll still be asleep. Brendon sets his phone into the drink holder and tries to focus on the road.
--
Brendon wakes up sometime after four, grunts hello who Shane, who's sitting in the kitchen, and stumbles into the shower.
When he walks back into his bedroom, his phone buzzes at him. What part of lastnite do u want to try again? from Adam.
Brendon sends back, I just want to c you again.. no bad movies this time?? ;)
Brendon throws his towel on the floor and reaches for the closest pair of jeans. He's just doing up the button when Adam texts back, I'm going out dancing tonite. Then a minute later, U can come if u want..
--
*
--
The club is packed but somehow Adam walks in and manages to find them a booth right away. He's meeting up with friends later, but Brendon said he didn't know the place that Adam was talking about, so the two of them met earlier and showed up together. Adam's wearing black pants and a skin tight, slightly see-through shirt. He didn't say anything about the way that Brendon's dressed: jeans, a t-shirt, and jacket, but even Adam's dressed a little conservatively compared to most of the other people in the club. Brendon probably stands out, and not in a good way.
"I'm going to go get us drinks," Brendon says. He walks over to the bar and tries to figure out what the fuck he should order when the bartender clinks his tongue ring at Brendon and asks, "What'll you have, honey?"
Brendon doesn't know what he should ask for, doesn't actually know what Adam drinks. "Two rum and Cokes, please," Brendon says. "No, wait, Long Island Iced Teas, two of those. And a couple shots of rum."
The bartender sets two shot glasses down on the bar and pours the rum with a quick flick of his wrist. Brendon downs both of them while he waits for the other drinks to be made.
--
Adam's friends are loud and they all know each other and everyone else as well, it seems like. Brendon chews on the ice cubes in his otherwise empty glass and laughs along with their jokes.
"I'm going to get another," Brendon tells Adam. It's too loud in the club to whisper, but he leans in so that he doesn't have to shout. "Do you want something different this time?"
"No, that was good," Adam says. "Thanks."
There's a wait to get to the bar, and when Brendon finally gets there, he orders the same, knocking back both shots in quick succession. Three people squeeze his ass while he walks back to the table, and he nearly spills both of the drinks.
"He's sweet," one of Adam's friends says when Brendon passes Adam the drink.
"Don't even start," Adam says, holding up one of his hands. His friend opens his mouth and Adam repeats, "No. No," each time until the friend ducks his head and laughs. Adam reaches over and rubs the guy's shoulder, grins and says, "Thank you."
Brendon takes a sip of his drink, leaves the straw in his mouth afterwards and chews on the end of it.
He finishes his drink and heads back to the bar.
--
"You can't possibly be this much of a lightweight," Adam says. They're on the dance floor, but Brendon's not doing his best dancing right now. He's all soft-limbed and floaty, and really he'd rather dance with Adam, but he's embarrassed with all of Adam's friends watching.
"I might have also had a couple of shots," Brendon says.
Adam's eyebrows knit together.
"No, trust me, I'm better in clubs when I'm drunk," Brendon says.
"You're kind of ridiculous," Adam says. "And it's not always in a good way."
"I know," Brendon says. He sounds unhappy, but he doesn't actually feel that bad. His legs feel like they're filled with white noise.
He reaches forward and tucks his finger through Adam's belt loop, just to see what Adam does.
Adam looks down, one corner of his mouth quirked up. He reaches for Brendon's wrist, but not to pull him away like Brendon was first worried he'd do. Instead, he runs his hand up the length of Brendon's arm, settling finally on his shoulder.
"C'mon," he says. "Dance it off."
--
Brendon doesn't know if dancing actually helps him sober up-- even though all the sweating he's doing probably helps for something-- but Adam's a good dancer, and once Brendon stops worrying about stepping on Adam's toes or all of the other dumb shit that bounces around in his head, he actually has a really good time.
Someone comes over to tell Adam that they're going to head somewhere else, and Adam says, "Alright, call me tomorrow or something," and stays with Brendon on the dance floor.
Brendon licks his lips then lifts his head. Adam's got one arm wrapped around Brendon's waist, his fingers resting low on Brendon's back. Brendon touches his palm to Adam's chest, thinks about bouncing up on his toes to reach Adam's mouth for a kiss, but doesn't.
"How are you doing?" Adam asks.
"Good," Brendon says, nodding his head.
"Do you maybe want to go back to my place now?"
"Yeah," Brendon says.
"At the end of this song," Adam says, and they start to dance again.
--
Brendon undresses quickly, then helps Adam take off his clothes, sliding Adam's socks over the sharp curve of his ankle bone while Adam pulls his shirt over his head. Adam undoes his pants and Brendon tugs them down, pushing them off the side of the bed. Adam reaches for him, and Brendon crawls up to the head of the bed.
He kisses Adam. "Do you have lube?" he asks. Then, "We could do that tonight, right?"
"Yeah, we could do that," Adam says, grinning. He rolls to the edge of the bed and slides open the drawer of his bedside table, pulls out a bottle of lube, which he tosses behind himself onto the mattress, then roots around for a condom.
He settles back on the bed, looking around for the bottle, and seems surprised when he realizes that it's in Brendon's hand. Brendon flicks open the cap with his thumb. He raises his eyebrow, looking at Adam before pouring any into his hand.
"Ah," Adam says. "I mean, yeah, sure."
"Awesome," Brendon says. He shuffles over, kneeling between Adam's legs. He hesitates before tipping the bottle and asks, "Should I do this?"
"...Yes?" Adam says, sounding confusing. "As opposed to what?"
"If you wanted to-- yourself."
"Are you asking me to finger myself?" Adam asks.
"No," says Brendon quickly. "Just checking." He switches the bottle into his other hand and drizzles lube over the first two fingers of his right hand. He reaches down, his fingers sliding around before he finds the pucker of Adam's asshole. He pushes one finger inside, pulls his hand back and replaces one with two.
Adam clenches tightly around him, and Brendon freezes, waiting until he can feel Adam start to relax before he pushes forward again. He pushes his fingers in and out in long strokes, wiggling his hand around a little to encourage Adam to loosen up.
When he pulls his hand away, Adam lifts his head and looks up at him. While Brendon grabs for the condom, Adam reaches down and slides his fingers inside, holding them still as far as Brendon can tell. He can see the tendons on the back of Adam's hand flexing, but there doesn't seem to be any other movement.
"I guess that's alright," Adam says after a long minute that Brendon spends sitting back on his heels and waiting. He looks at Brendon again, but Brendon's not sure what he's supposed to say, so he just shuffles forward on his knees.
He tries to line up his dick but it's not a good angle, and he doesn't know what he should do to make it better.
"I'm going to roll over," Adam says after an awkward moment of silence.
Brendon nods and moves backward so that there's room for Adam to turn around. He settles on his hands and knees. Brendon strokes his dick a couple of times then tries again.
It feels like it takes forever for him to get all the way inside. Adam's whole body is frozen and Brendon doesn't know if he should go slower or what. He doesn't know if he can go any slower; it already feels like he's hardly moving at all.
Eventually he gets all the way inside and it gets easier to move. It's better after that, better when he can actually move his hips. He wonders if he should reach around and also try to jerk Adam off, but there's enough for him to focus on as it is. Adam finally moves one hand down, falling to his other forearm. Brendon watches his back, freckles clustering in a thick strip along the top of his shoulders and slowly fading out further down his back.
Both of them are silent, so the only noises in the room are the wet sounds of their bodies slapping together and the low creaks when the mattress shifts. Brendon doesn't feel any urgency right now, but he almost wishes he did because he'd like to come soon. A little bead of sweat trickles down the center of his back. He's hardly touching his hands to Adam's hips, but still his palms slide around.
He flops onto the bed soon after coming, and Adam rolls over, taking his dick into hand again. Brendon wonders if he should blow him or something. He's tired, though. From dancing and from coming and from drinking too much. He lies on his side, facing Adam, thinks that maybe he could at least help jerk him off, but ends up passing out before he actually sees Adam come.
--
Brendon wakes and he doesn't know where he is. He sits quickly, looking around the room. His stomach lurches.
"Oh my god, shut the fuck up," Adam groans, rolling away from Brendon and hunching in on himself.
"Sorry," Brendon whispers. Should he lie back down? Should he leave? What time is it?
He sits frozen on the bed and after a minute Adam rolls over onto his back.
"Is this why you don't stay the night?" Adam asks. "You have some kind of deficiency that doesn't allow you to let other people sleep? Do you even realize how early it is?"
"I'm not wearing a watch," Brendon says.
"You're a disaster," Adam says. "And you fucking passed out, drooling on my shoulder last night, so I couldn't get out of bed to wash off my makeup and now I look like a disaster, and now you're not even letting me sleep in."
"You look pretty hot," Brendon says, honestly. Adam's hair is all messy and his eye makeup is smeared and his face looks cranky, but it somehow all adds together well.
"Who are you?" Adam asks. "Seriously. I don't even know what I'm supposed to do with you. And how fucking drunk were you last night?"
"Not that drunk," Brendon says. "I'm sorry I crashed so hard, I dunno why that happened."
"And before you crashed--?"
"What about that?"
"Have you done this before?" Adam asks.
"What, anal? Of course I've--"
"With a guy," says Adam.
"Have I had sex with a guy?"
"Brendon," Adam says. "Before last night, how many times have you put your dick into another dude's ass. Literally."
"Okay, literally I haven't before. With a guy. But it's just the same as with--"
"It's not the same," Adam interrupts.
"What?" Brendon asks. "Sure it is. I mean, in terms of what you need to--"
"No," Adam says.
"Well, basically--"
"No," Adam says.
Brendon starts to say something, but when Adam give him a look, he closes his mouth.
"Have you even fingered yourself before?"
"Um, that's not really-- I mean, yeah, but it's not really my thing," Brendon says.
Adam stares at him.
"I'll do better next time?" Brendon offers.
"Do you not bottom or something?"
"What? Do I-- what? Yeah, of course, what do you-- what?" Brendon scratches at the corner of his mouth. "That's just not usually how I-- do it."
"How about this," Adam says. "You stick your fingers up your ass, and we'll talk again once you've figured out that guys have prostates."
Brendon swallows.
Adam sighs. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm bitchy in the mornings, just ignore me."
"Was it really bad?" Brendon asks.
"Have you really never fucked a guy before?" Adam asks.
Brendon shakes his head.
"At some point in time, did it occur to you that maybe that was a conversation we should be having?"
"Ah," Brendon says. "I don't know. No. I guess not."
"It was a conversation we should have had," Adam says. "I'm telling you this."
"Okay," Brendon says. He wishes that Adam would roll over so that he could get out of bed and find his clothes. He doesn't want to pull the sheet away while Adam is looking at him.
Instead, Adam touches his hand to Brendon's elbow before patting the bed.
Brendon lies back down, his movements stiff and awkward. Adam scoots up beside him, resting his head beside Brendon's on the pillow.
"How old were you when you had sex with a guy for the first time?" Adam asks.
"Nineteen," Brendon says.
"And you were?"
"On tour."
"And he was?"
"Someone I met after a show."
"And?"
"And he blew me and then I never saw him again, I don't know," Brendon says. "Lather, rinse, and repeat."
"Hey, whatever," Adam says, moving his hand to rest his palm across Brendon's chest. "Hooking up can be awesome." He strokes his thumb up and down softly. "That's not really what I'm looking for right now though."
Brendon holds his breath. He could tell Adam, Fair enough, slide out of bed and catch a cab back home. Adam's giving him an easy out. If he ran into Adam at an event again, he could probably even pretend that there weren't any hard feelings between them.
But he stays where he is, covers Adam's hand with his own. Says, "I know." Says, "Me neither."
"Does that mean we can go back to sleep now?" Adam asks. "Or is your deficiency more of a chronic condition?"
Brendon turns his head, resting his cheek on the pillow. His and Adam's faces are only inches apart. This close, he can only focus on one of Adam's eyes at a time. He probably looks weird and cross-eyed, but Adam smiles, lifts his hand from underneath Brendon's and presses it to Brendon's neck instead, his fingers just brushing the hair at the base of Brendon's skull.
"Okay," Adam says. "I'll make you breakfast."
They're both still naked. Adam pulls back the sheets and walks over to his closet. He pulls out a couple pairs of pants, tossing one over to Brendon. They're soft and stretchy and way too big for Brendon, even after he rolls up the waistband a few times. They're all light and floaty around his legs when he walks behind Adam out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
"Is an omelet okay?" Adam asks.
"Yeah," Brendon says. He hops up onto the counter while Adam roots around through the fridge. "Oh, actually," he says, jumping back down. "I'd better call my roommate. I'll be right back."
He heads for the bedroom, fishing his phone out of his jeans, still lying discarded on the floor.
"Hey," Brendon says when Shane picks up. "You're home, right?"
"Yeah," Shane says. "But you're not."
"I just wanted to make sure that you were there to let the dogs out," Brendon says. "I'll probably be back in an hour or two."
"Dude, what the hell?" Shane asks. "Did you stay the night?"
"Umm, yeah," Brendon says.
"What, did she drug you or something?"
"Ha. Ha," Brendon says. "Okay, I"ll talk to you later."
When he walks back into the kitchen, Adam turns and asks him, "Is your roommate your roommate, or --"
"He's my roommate," Brendon says. "I'm not sure what inflection I should put there. He's also technically my personal assistant sometimes, and he films us a lot when we're on tour."
Adam nods, and stirs the little pieces of green pepper he's got sizzling in the frying pan.
"He's straight," Brendon says. "Pretty much-- I mean, I think -- all of my friends are straight." He looks over Adam's shoulder. "Is there something I can do to help?"
"Nope," Adam says. He sets the wooden spoon down on the counter and reaches for Brendon, his hands coming to rest low on Brendon's waist. "These aren't staying up very well," he says, fingering the waistband of the pants Brendon is wearing.
"No," Brendon agrees.
Adam looks at him, and Brendon can feel a flush start to spread down his chest. Or maybe it's not a flush, maybe he just feels warm. He leaves his arms hanging down at his sides and lets Adam look at him, lets Adam slide gentle fingers along his torso, mapping out the line of his belly, the curve of his hipbone, the stretch of skin high up on his chest, until Brendon can feel the prickle of goosebumps rising. His nipples harden, and Adam slides his palms down, circles his thumbs, featherlight, and Brendon drops his head forward.
He blinks, shakes himself a little, when Adam pulls away and says, "The food's going to burn. Stop being so distracting." The pants are stretched tightly around the line of his erection, and Adam can see everything. Brendon can't even try to tuck himself up because the pants are so loose that they'll probably just slide right down.
Instead, he shuffles over, hopping up onto the counter, hunching in on himself even though that probably doesn't hide much.
Adam cracks four eggs into a glass bowl and whisks them with a fork. He's hard too, Brendon can see. He pours the eggs into a skillet, adjusts the heat of the stove, and then walks over to Brendon. He touches his fingers to the inside of Brendon's knees and Brendon opens, making room for Adam to take another step closer.
Adam cups his hands low on Brendon's ribcage, and even though he's sitting on the counter, Brendon still has to tilt his head back before he's able to reach Adam's mouth. They both exhale sharply at the first press of their lips together, Brendon's fingers scrambling for purchase on Adam's shoulder. Adam's hands are firm around Brendon's middle, and he feels like Adam is holding him up.
Adam pushes his tongue into Brendon's mouth, this blunt pressure sliding across Brendon's tongue that makes him want to set his fingernails into Adam's shoulder. He holds on tightly, his hips twitching forward even though he can't really move like this.
It takes him a minute to remember to open his eyes again after Adam pulls away. Adam touches his finger to the edge of Brendon's bottom lip, and Brendon lifts his own hand without thinking, mimicking the gesture.
"I'm going to finish making breakfast now," Adam says, curling his hand into a loose fist and sliding his knuckles down Brendon's sternum.
Brendon licks his lips, says, "Okay," then, belatedly, "Good idea." He reaches down and curls his hands around the edge of the counter, flexes his legs so that his heels rub up and down the surface of the wood.
"What would you like to drink?" Adam asks, lifting glasses out of the cupboard on the other side of the stove.
"Juice," Brendon says. "If you have any." He lowers himself off of the counter, reaching out his hands. "I can take those over to the table." Adam passes him the glasses, then turns to grab juice out of the fridge.
He walks back over and asks, "Plates?"
Adam points at one of the cupboards. Brendon's fingers shake as he reaches into the cupboard. He can't stop thinking about how his erection bobs in front of him when he walks.
He carries plates over to the table, and Adam follows him, holding the skillet. He cuts the omelet down the center with the spatula, then slides a half onto each plate. He walks back into the kitchen with the skillet, and comes back carrying forks.
"Thanks," Brendon says when Adam passes him one, then, "This is really good," after taking a bite.
"Awesome," Adam says.
They're sitting kitty corner from each other at the table. Brendon straightens his leg, covers Adam's foot with his own. He grins when Adam looks up at him, doesn't move his foot away.
They're nearly done eating when the phone rings.
Adam winces, and says, "Shit, I totally forgot that I'd made plans for brunch." Brendon lifts his foot and Adam stands, walking over to the phone.
"Hey," Adam says. "Umm. Mh hm. What time were you thinking? Yeah. What time is it now? Do you want to do dinner instead? Hm, yeah, no, yeah, yeah, it's okay. Yeah, it's okay. Uh huh. Yeah, okay, I'll see you then." He hangs up the phone.
"My friend's moving, and I've really got to see him before he goes," Adam says.
"That's fine," Brendon says. "What time do you have to leave at?"
"Pretty soon," Adam says apologetically. "You can stay here and shower or whatever if you want."
"I'm good," Brendon says, shaking his head. He stands and takes his plate to the kitchen, setting it in the sink.
"Just leave it," Adam says. "I'll load the dishwasher later."
Adam comes into the bedroom before Brendon has finished dressing, leaning against the door frame. Brendon slides the pants off and drapes them over the edge of the bed before reaching for his pants. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Adam watching him. He has to hold his erection up before he's able to convince the button on his jeans to close, and even then it takes some wiggling.
He pulls the hem of his t-shirt down and looks over at Adam.
"Come here," Adam says.
Brendon walks across the room and stops in front of Adam.
"Did you call a cab?" Adam asks. Brendon nods.
Adam cups Brendon's head in both hands, smoothing his fingers through his hair. He drags his hands down to rest on Brendon's shoulders and Brendon flattens one of his palms to Adam's belly.
"I'll call you later," Adam says. He walks Brendon to the door and kisses him goodbye, slow and thorough and eventually Brendon has to pull away. He ducks his head, running his fingers through his bangs, and tries to catch his breath. Says, "Have fun with your friend," and steps outside.
He slides into the cab, gives his address, and settles back into the seat, tipping his head backwards and closing his eyes. He feels strung out, a little from not sleeping and a little from drinking too much and a little from-- he doesn't even know. He buttons up his jacket and slides his hands in between his thighs, trying to warm his fingers. It's not that cold in the cab; he just feels worn out. He feels like he's still waiting for something. He wonders if Adam has left the house yet.
It's brighter than Brendon expects it to be, even though it's already late into the morning. Maybe he can take a nap when he gets home.
--
"Spencer called," Shane tells him when he gets home.
"I had my phone on me," Brendon says.
"He was trying to reach us both," Shane informs him.
Brendon laughs. "What did Spencer say? Does he know when Jon's going to fly in?"
"Not until next week, I don't think," Shane says. "Spencer's staying over at Ryan's for the weekend, and he said that we should come over for a movie night."
"Cool," Brendon says. "Are you going to bring Regan?"
"I think he rented Wayne's World," Shane says. "So, I don't know if she'll want to come. Why, is there someone you want to bring?"
"I'm going to take a nap," Brendon says. "Are we going to try and get groceries this afternoon?"
"Yeah, that'd probably be a good idea," Shane says.
"'kay, wake me up when you want to leave."
--
*
--
"How fucking sweet would it be to cover Bohemian Rhapsody?" Spencer asks after the scene finishes.
"That's be pretty fucking sweet," Shane says.
"Pretty fucking hard," Brendon says, and then at the same time Shane and Spencer yell, "That's what she said!" and lean over to high five each other.
Brendon's phone buzzes, and he rolls off the couch, pulling it out of his pocket.
"I'll be right back," he says. He ducks out of the room and accepts the call. "Hey."
"Hey you," Adam says. "How's it going?"
"Good," Brendon says. "Just debating the merits of covering Bohemian Rhapsody."
"I sang that for one of my auditions for Idol," Adam says.
"Seriously?" Brendon asks. "So we definitely shouldn't attempt to cover it then. How was your friend?"
"Good," Adam says. "I wasn't really ready to eat a second meal though. What are your plans for the rest of the night?"
"I think we're just hanging out," Brendon says. "One of my bandmates came in from Vegas for the weekend."
"So are you going to be hanging out with them for a while?" Adam asks.
"Yeah, I think so," Brendon says.
"How about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow would be good."
"Awesome," Adam says. "There're a bunch of places close to my place, so do you want to just come over there and then decide where we want to go?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. "That sounds good. What time should I head over?"
After the call ends, Brendon walks back into Ryan's rec room.
"So," Spencer says.
"Who was that?" asks Ryan.
"Brendon spent the night," Shane tells them. "He didn't get back until nearly noon."
"Seriously?" Spencer asks. "And he gave her his phone number?"
"Shut up and play the movie," Brendon says.
--
*
--
Part TWO
Brendon Urie/Adam Lambert | NC-17 | ~18000 words | Kiss And Tell should be read as a prequel to this story.
"Don't you have experience with this kind of thing?" Adam asks.
"Dick?" Brendon asks, blinking.
I owe wearemany and airgiodslv MASSIVE thanks for all their help. wearemany helped me plot this out, and while I don't know if I did the original idea justice, I definitely would have never been able to write this without her help and insight. Thanks for talking this through with me, and then for betaing! Also, airgiodslv let me send this to her tiny sections at a time and her encouragement made writing this a million times more fun. This is for and because of them. I ♥ you guys! :D
I am not asking for mercy. I am asking for more.
From "Asking for More" by Sarah Manguso
The next time they meet, Brendon's drunk and stoned, and Adam's hair is gelled up in spikes around the top of his head. Brendon wants to touch the little points with his palm.
It's another industry thing, and Brendon and Ryan are making an appearance on behalf of Panic. Promoting a new CD is kind of a bitch, especially because it hasn't been released yet, so Brendon has to answer question after question about what the new sound is going to be like.
"Yeah, pretty much just taking off where we left with the last CD," Brendon says. The mic isn't that close to his mouth, so he hopes they can still hear him. Ryan's standing with his hands in his pockets, staring at something that's happening over the reporter's shoulder. They totally should not have smoked up during the car ride over. Brendon's eyes are probably bloodshot. At least it's making it a little more interesting to do press. He tries to elbow Ryan discreetly.
"We all work on the songs together," Ryan says slowly, slowly, laughing softly to himself before closing his mouth.
"I can't wait to go back on tour," Brendon says. "Touring is-- making music, it's just so awesome to get to do this."
The reporter looks thoroughly unimpressed, so Brendon smiles brightly and stops talking.
--
There's an open bar, so Brendon feels like he should be ordering something more awesome than Coronas. There are still a lot of cameras around; he just sticks with beer. There are a lot of cameras around, and when Brendon makes eye contact, Adam gives him a closed mouth smile, but doesn't come over.
Brendon's been absentmindedly tracking Adam around the room all night. It's something to do; Brendon doesn't know many people here. Adam looks like he has a lot more fun doing press than Brendon does. Right now, Adam's leaning up against a wall, rubbing the back of his finger carefully along the skin under his eye, like he's making sure his eyeliner hasn't smeared. Or, hasn't smeared other than in the carefully careless way it's smudged around his eyes. Brendon's worn eyeliner before: he knows it doesn't go on looking like that.
Brendon slams the rest of the nearly-full bottle of beer, sets it on a cluttered bar, and walks across the room. Adam isn't talking with anyone right now, so it's easy for Brendon to sidle up near him on the wall.
"It must be nice to be done with Idol," Brendon says.
"Yeah, I guess," Adam says.
"You like touring?" Brendon asks.
"It's definitely been a blast. I'm looking forward to getting to spend time in the studio now."
"We just got out of the studio."
"Yeah? New CD coming out?"
"End of next month," Brendon says. "Hopefully."
"Right on."
Brendon runs his fingers through his bangs, tugging them back into place. "Hey, so what are you doing after this?" Brendon asks.
Adam gives Brendon a long look, his eyes sliding down and then back up again, before grinning.
--
"Jesus," Brendon groans. "Yeah, yeah, fucking-- just like that, fuck, your mouth and--"
Adam does this thing with the hand he's got cupped around Brendon's balls, and then he takes Brendon in deep and swallows and pulls up in this long stroke, his mouth making wet sounds and he sucks, and Brendon curses loudly, banging his hand on Adam's shoulder just before coming.
Brendon's knees buckle, and he almost slides down to the floor before he catches himself with a hand to the wall. He leans back heavily and catches his breath. They're in a room with a door, somewhere far away from the crowd, which is not entirely ideal as it lacks any flat surfaces, but at least there's some privacy.
While Adam stands, Brendon tucks his dick back into his pants. Adam straightens and leans forward, his arms out in front of him, palms pressed to the wall on either side of Brendon's head. Brendon could duck under one of Adam's arms and try to get their positions reversed, but he stays where he is because he's starting to crash and the wall is actually very helpful to the process of remaining upright.
Adam looks down at him, his head tilted to one side. Brendon bounces up on the balls of his feet, trying to wake himself up again, and reaches for Adam's pants. He gets the button undone, slides the zipper down, but the pants get stuck when he tries to push them past Adam's hips.
"Those are never coming off," Brendon says, ducking his head and giggling into Adam's shoulder.
"Don't you have experience with this kind of thing?" Adam asks.
"Dick?" Brendon asks, blinking.
Adam's face freezes for a minute before splitting into a grin. He tips his head back when he laughs. He bends his arms, lets his body crowd against Brendon, his hips nudging forward.
"I mean tight pants," Adam says. "But I guess that answers another question."
"If you really want those pants off you will have to lie down so that I can pull from the bottom," Brendon says. "But I think I can jerk you off just like this."
Adam closes his mouth, though Brendon can still hear him snort, and raises his eyebrows like, go for it.
Brendon debates for a moment if he should pull Adam's dick out from under the elastic or through the slit in his underwear, eventually deciding on the latter. He doesn't feel equipped to battle elastic right now. He slides his fingers along warm, smooth skin, rubbing his thumb in a quick circle when he reaches the crown, then pulls his hand to his mouth and spits into his palm.
He jacks Adam quickly, his wrist bending at an awkward angle. His thumb rubs up the base as his fingers wrap around the shaft, which is opposite to the grip he uses on himself. He gets the head of Adam's dick on the down stroke instead of the base, and it takes his brain a minute to figure out how to work a twist in to the end of each stroke. He thinks he's doing okay, because his palm slides wetly when he rubs it over the head of Adam's dick.
Brendon doesn't know where to look. Adam's head is bent, so he can't really see his face. When he looks down, there are mostly just clothes to look at: Brendon's still dressed, and Adam is too except for his dick. Adam's hips arch forward, his torso curving away. Brendon wishes that Adam's hands were still on the wall. He starts wondering what is going to happen when Adam comes. He doesn't want there to be a mess all over his clothes; he still has to get back to his suite. He starts wondering if Adam is ever going to come, so he speeds up the tempo.
Adam's been totally silent this far, so Brendon takes it as a good sign when his breath finally hitches. When he comes, a little bit of it gets of Brendon's shirt, but mostly he is able to collect it in his palm, shaking the wetness off his hand after Adam's done. He wipes his hand on the wall behind him, which is only marginally helpful, and dabs at the spot on his shirt with his dry hand.
Adam brings both hands up to rest on either side of his own neck, stretching his back by lifting his shoulders.
"This is super classy," Adam says. "You know I have a room, right? That you have a room?"
"Yeah, but then we would have had to call a cab."
"Where are you staying?" Adam asks. "I'm within walking distance."
"Well, me too," Brendon says. But then I would have had to find Zack to tell him I was leaving, and he would have walked back with us, and probably that would have ruined the mood. He settles on, "I think the people I came with are still here, and we were all going to leave together."
"Whatever," Adam says.
"How long are you in New York for?" Brendon asks.
"Couple of days."
"Maybe I'll see you again," Brendon says, looking up at Adam. His hand is still sticky and he press his fingers to his palm, makes a fist, relaxes his grip, tightens again.
"Maybe you should go find your people," Adam says.
"Lunch," Brendon says. "Somewhere within walking distance. I don't have to be anywhere until after three tomorrow."
Brendon doesn't know what he's doing right now. It's not like he usually feels compelled to meet up again after hooking up.
"I've got to do a TV spot," Adam says. "So I have to be up at four in the morning."
Brendon stands quietly. He feels kind of nervous that Adam is going to say no, which is exactly why he's not going to back down.
Finally Adam shakes his head and says, "Yeah, okay, after. I could meet you somewhere once I was done shooting."
"Great," Brendon says. "Give me your phone so I can put in my number. You can text me when you're done."
He smoothes his hand over his shirt again, says, "See ya," and ducks out of the room, closing the door behind himself, even though he knows that'll probably irritate Adam.
He walks away in search of Zack and Ryan.
--
*
--
Brendon spends the walk over to the restaurant wondering if he should get a table and leave his name at the door, or if he should just wait in the entrance, but it doesn't end up mattering because when he gets there Adam is already waiting outside.
He takes off his pair of aviators when he sees Brendon walk up, and says, "Hey."
"How was your thing?" Brendon asks.
"Alright," Adam says before yawning hugely. "Sorry," he says, touching the back of his hand to his mouth.
Brendon laughs. "They didn't give you coffee?"
"No," Adam says slowly. "I'm pretty sure there was coffee. I don't entirely remember, because of how I was asleep in the makeup chair, but I'm pretty sure somewhere in there was a cup of coffee."
"Early morning press is the worst," Brendon says, holding the door open behind himself for Adam as he walks into the restaurant. "I usually just stay up all night because it's harder to wake up after a couple of hours' sleep than to stay up entirely."
"I don't know, man," Adam says. "I've been trying to get all the sleep I can."
"They keep you pretty busy?" Brendon asks. He says, "For two, please."
"You could say that," Adam says, and then someone comes to lead them to a table.
--
The soup has creamed cauliflower, leeks, artichoke hearts, walnuts and is, "So good," Brendon says. "Oh my god, how is this so good?"
He takes another spoonful of soup, a bite of bread, and a sip of his drink and then starts chewing.
Adam shakes his head and laughs. He reaches out like he's going to touch Brendon's hand, resting on the table, but catches himself before he makes contact. Brendon's fingers twitch, and he nudges his toe against Adam's under the table
"The food's good," Adam agrees.
"And very much within walking distance," Brendon says.
"Yeah, yeah," Adam says. "Your people let you out unsupervised tonight?"
"We're not really that famous," Brendon says. "It's not like I go everywhere with security. Just to events and stuff. There's probably more of a chance that you'll be recognized than me right now."
There's more of a chance of Adam being noticed, period. He's got black smudged around his eyes, makeup that hasn't washed away fully, and is wearing snakeskin boots and shiny grey pants.
"Which is crazy," Adam says.
"But kind of awesome," Brendon says.
Adam grins, his thumb running along the handle of his fork. "But kind of awesome," he agrees.
--
"Shit," Brendon says. "Is it seriously quarter to three? I'm so late right now, Zack's going to kill me." He looks around the room, trying to find the waiter so that he can wave over the bill. He and Adam both finished eating ages ago. Adam's coffee cup has probably been refilled a half dozen times; Brendon reminds himself to leave a big tip.
"You can go. I'll take care of this," Adam says.
"No, no," Brendon says. "I've got it."
"Seriously," Adam says. "If you're late just make a run for it."
"I'm sure if I just go to the front they'll ring me up." He stands, sliding on his jacket while still scanning the restaurant.
"Go," Adam says. "I've got this."
"Are you sure?" he asks, standing at the head of the table.
Adam reaches over and swats at his forearm. "Yes, I'm sure," he says, rolling his eyes.
Brendon catches Adam's hand with the tips of his fingers before Adam has pulled away entirely.
"Hey, thanks," he says. "But you know this means I have to take you out for dinner now."
Adam ducks his head, then smiles up at Brendon. "Well, if that's what it means..."
"I've got your number," Brendon says. "I'll call you. I'm going to run now."
"'kay," Adam says.
Brendon looks back over his shoulder as he heads out the door. Adam's sitting with his hands stretched out on the table. Brendon can see one of his legs poking out past the corner of the white table cloth, like his thighs are spread. Brendon likes Adam's boots. They're kind of like a pair that Brendon has but-- more, he doesn't know how exactly.
When he nearly bumps into someone because he isn't looking where he's going, he turns back around.
--
*
--
"Oh my god," Brendon shrieks into the phone. "You totally sound like that guy from American Idol, oh my god, did I seriously just get a hold of Adam? This is the greatest day of my life."
"You're hilarious," Adam says dryly, but Brendon can totally hear him crack up.
"Hey, so what are you up to night now?"
"I'm in New York, what the hell do you think I'm up to?" Adam asks.
Brendon makes a, "Mhh," noise into the telephone.
"Shopping," Adam says. "I'm shopping."
"You want to meet up?" Brendon asks.
--
"Okay, so I was like, in a bit of a Western phase for a while, but not so much anymore--"
"I don't know," Adam says, sitting on the bench beside Brendon. "They go up pretty high. Would you tuck them into your jeans?"
"I did that at the VMAs one year," Brendon says. "But maybe not so much these days."
"Your pants would hang really funny over top of these," Adam says. "Why can't you just try the shorter ones?"
"Because the stitching on these is fucking sweet," Brendon says.
"You own like a million shoes that you never wear, don't you?" Adam asks.
"Kind of," Brendon says. "I have worn cowboy boots before though."
"Those are awesome boots," Adam says. "But you'd need to tuck your pants in. You just have to acknowledge this."
Brendon flexes his calves, rocking his toes from side to side. The leather's so soft, and already distressed, so they feel amazing, and there's swirly stitching up the side, and he still doesn't know if that's reason enough to spend a couple grand on a pair of boots that he's never going to wear. Maybe they could change the aesthetic of their stage show again. He misses the boots that he wore on the Circus tour.
"We could go back to the store with all the sneakers," Adam offers.
"What time is it?" Brendon asks, looking around. "Do you think it will still be open? Maybe we should just go to dinner. Are you going to buy those?"
"I feel like I've already got a couple of pairs of purple shoes," Adam says.
"They're kind of more grey then purple," Brendon says.
"True. I have a jacket that would go with these," Adam says.
"I like them," Brendon says. He rocks his toes again. "What I really need is a new belt."
"I thought you liked showing off your underwear," Adam says. "Why else would you be wearing bright orange?"
"You know what? I like to keep things interesting for my dick, okay?" Brendon says. "Don't even start with me."
"That's how you keep things interesting for your dick?" Adam asks, raising both his eyebrows.
Brendon mutters, "Shut up," and elbows Adam. "Go buy your boots so that I can take you to dinner."
--
*
--
"Where are you off to after New York?" Adam asks.
Brendon swallows his sip of wine. "LA," he says. "Back to LA. I moved there last year."
"Oh yeah?" Adam asks. "I've been living in Hollywood for a while now. How do you like it?"
"It's been good," Brendon says. "I moved from Vegas, so it wasn't too far. It's a different scene though."
"Definitely," Adam says.
"This time 'round we didn't record our CD in a casino," Brendon says. "Just for one example."
"Ha ha, seriously?"
Brendon nods.
Someone comes by their table and starts clearing away empty plates. "Would you like anything else?"
Brendon looks at Adam. He doesn't really want to leave yet, but he's full and it's getting late.
"I think we're good," Adam says.
"Just the bill," Brendon says.
He pays, and they walk out of the restaurant together.
"Do you want to get a drink or something?" Brendon asks.
Adam grimaces and says, "I do, but I shouldn't. I'm flying to Orlando tomorrow, and it blows to fly hungover."
"That's why they serve alcohol on planes," Brendon jokes.
"I'm just down this way," Adam says, nodding up the street. "I don't know if you wanted to--"
"We could just hang out for a bit," Brendon says.
"Yeah, if you wanted to hang out."
--
Adam kisses fucking dirty, his tongue sliding into Brendon's mouth. It's late and they've both got the beginnings of stubble, and their cheeks rub together roughly. Their mouths come together roughly, and Brendon's so turned on his head feels dizzy. He wants, but he'd rather not take the time to figure out what he wants, he just wants, just wants more.
They make their way over to the bed, and it takes a while to get both of them out of their tight pants, long enough that Brendon's head starts to clear. Adam pushes him down, stretches out over him, their chests sliding together as he makes his way back up, his thigh pushing in between Brendon's legs. Brendon's shirt is balled up under his shoulder, and he reaches behind himself, grabs it and throws it off the bed.
"What do you like?" Adam asks.
Brendon shakes his head soundlessly, trying to pull Adam down for another kiss. He only likes talking in bed when he's actively in the process of achieving orgasm.
Adam ducks his head, but stops before their lips make contact. He says, "No, seriously."
"Before was good," Brendon says. "I liked it like before."
"You want me to blow you?"
"Yup," Brendon says tightly. He turns his head to the side, trying to find a little more air. Adam's on top of him, and even though he isn't actually putting pressure on Brendon's chest, Brendon feels like he can't breathe.
It's better when Adam moves down, better yet when he puts his mouth on Brendon's dick. Adam gives really good head. Brendon's nowhere near as drunk this time and he feels like he's going to come really fast, like he's right on the edge already from the moment that Adam starts sucking him, like it's just a matter of figuring out how to push the rest of the way over.
He leaves his hands on the bed, except when he gets really close and moves his hand to his hip, his fingers digging into his skin like that's going to help him hold back. He comes hard, his shoulders lifting off the bed as he tries to curl in on himself. It's intense, but it takes a while before it slides into too much, even though Adam keeps sucking him the whole way through.
Adam touches the back of his hand, and Brendon forces his fingers to loosen, moves his hand away entirely. Adam stretches out on the bed beside him, holding himself up on one elbow and bending down to kiss Brendon's shoulder.
Brendon covers his face with his open palm, closes his eyes and breathes deeply before pulling his hand away and forcing himself to roll over. Adam moves with him, lying flat on his back, and Brendon crawls sideways until he's settled in between Adam's legs.
He looks at Adam's cock, which is still hard and lying against his belly, and wonders if he's actually going to do with, but when Adam flexes his hips forward, Brendon bends down and takes Adam's dick into his mouth.
Brendon works into a rhythm pretty quickly, bobbing his head up and down as he holds himself up with both hands flat to the bed on either side of Adam.
"Hey, hey, could you just--" Adam says, reaching down. Brendon bats his hand away and tries to suck harder, and Adam doesn't say anything else.
Brendon's jaw aches, and he doesn't know how this can possibly be taking so long. Sucking dick is pretty boring: up and down, up and down. His tongue hurts down the center. His mouth is getting kind of phlegm-y from when Adam's dick brushes up against the back of his throat. There's this loud slurping noise when he tries to increase the suction, which is kind of embarrassing. Up and down, up and down.
Adam pokes at his shoulder and pokes again and finally Brendon pulls off. Adam grabs his dick and jerks himself the rest of the way off, coming on his stomach instead of in Brendon's mouth, something that Brendon appreciates.
He opens his mouth wide, moving his jaw from side to side. He climbs onto his feet and starts gathering up his clothes. When he turns around again, Adam is still lying on the bed, his palm resting on his chest.
"You've probably got an early flight tomorrow," Brendon says, tilting his head toward the door.
"Sure," Adam says.
Brendon shuffles over to the edge of the bed. Adam doesn't move away when Brendon bends down to peck him on the lips, but he doesn't kiss back, and he doesn't move his hand off of his chest.
"We're both going to end up in the same place," Brendon says. "Eventually. The same-ish place. You should give me a call when you get back."
"Seriously?" Adam asks, sounding dubious.
"Yeah," Brendon says. "I've still got to buy a new belt sometime."
"You are one strange little dude," Adam says. He's naked and sprawled across the sheets and he looks good. Brendon wipes his damp palm across his thigh.
"So I'll talk to you later?" Brendon asks.
Adam shakes his head, but he says, "Yeah, I'll call you when I get back."
"Sweet," Brendon says and then lets himself out.
--
Ryan's sitting in the main room of their suite, watching late night TV.
"Late night," Ryan says when Brendon walks through the door.
"I walked back here," Brendon says, "so that took a little while."
"What's her name?" Ryan asks as Brendon toes off his shoes and starts making his way toward the bathroom.
"None of your business, Ross," Brendon calls over his shoulder. He turns the shower on hot and starts stripping off his clothes. There's a patch of raw skin at the base of his throat, Brendon notices as he looks at himself in the mirror. He touches his fingers to the redness, then steps into the shower.
He dries off and wraps himself up in one of the hotel's white terrycloth towels before walking out of the bathroom.
"Zack said that he's coming to get us at noon for breakfast," Ryan says. "He wants to see how many bagels he can eat while we're in New York."
"Okay," Brendon says. "Wake me up when you guys are ready to go, I'm going to crash now."
--
*
--
"Hey buddy," Shane calls when Brendon walks into the house. "How was your trip?"
"Pretty good," Brendon says. "Except during the parts where we had to give interviews."
Shane laughs. "I made chicken last night and there are leftovers in the fridge."
"'kay, sweet," Brendon says. "We didn't get a meal on the plane."
Dylan comes walking down the hall.
"Hey baby," Brendon says, crouching down to pet her. "Did you miss me? Where's Bogart? Were you keeping him company?" He calls to Shane, "Have the dogs already had their treats today?"
"Yeah," Shane says. "But you could give them like half each if you wanted to. I took them on a long walk."
"C'mon," Brendon says, standing up. "C'mon, I've got food for you. C'mon. Bogart!"
--
*
--
Brendon doesn't actually know when Adam's getting back, so he's not surprised when Adam calls, only because he didn't know what he should expect.
"You're back," Brendon says.
"I'm back."
"For how long?"
"A little while," Adam says. "I'm not exactly sure about my schedule right now. Long enough to help you pick out a belt, anyway."
"Just what I was hoping to hear," Brendon says. "When and where do you want to meet?"
--
"Shane, I'm going out tonight," Brendon calls. He's standing in the hallway, fixing his hair in the mirror. He cut himself a little when he was shaving, but he doesn't think it shows too badly.
"Anything interesting happening?" Shane asks.
"Nah," Brendon says. "I'm just seeing a friend."
"It's your turn to let the dogs out tomorrow morning. I think I'm going to be sleeping over at Regan's tonight."
"Sure," Brendon says. "I'll leave my door open so I can hear when they want to go out."
"I'll see you tomorrow," Shane says.
--
Brendon lifts the hem of his shirt, looking at the belt in the mirror.
"Maybe it's a little big," he says.
"You're just small," Adam says.
In the mirror, Brendon watches Adam walk up behind him.
"I think it looks good," Adam says, standing beside and behind Brendon. "It's got a pretty rad buckle."
Brendon taps his fingers on the metal and says, "Yeah." The store is open extended hours because it's Wednesday night, and he and Adam are the only ones at this end of the store. Adam takes a step closer, until he's standing right behind Brendon. He pauses for a moment, and Brendon shuffles backward half a step.
"It works with these jeans," Adam says, running his fingers over one of Brendon's belt loops. Brendon can't actually feel the touch, but when Adam cups Brendon's hips, one hand on each side, Brendon can feel that.
Adam's a head taller than Brendon, and Brendon can feel him pressed all the way up his back. Adam spreads his fingers so that his first finger slides off the waistband of Brendon's jeans and onto bare skin, then moves his whole hand, his palm rubbing across Brendon's belly. He drags his hand upward and Brendon's shirt, caught on Adam's wrist, lifts as well. He leaves that hand resting on Brendon's belly, and brings the other one down to slide over the metal buckle.
"I like the way it joins with the leather," Adam says, moving his fingers in demonstration.
Brendon's breath is caught him his chest, so he nods his head instead of speaking, just a little movement, but he can feel his hair being ruffled by Adam's chest. His body feels like it wants to lean back and let Adam hold him up, like he should arch his hips forward or maybe rub his ass back, but they're in the middle of the store. Brendon stays firmly on his feet.
"So, I guess I'll buy it then," Brendon says, his voice coming out low and tight.
Adam flexes his fingers, his short nails pressing into Brendon's skin, before saying, "Yeah," and stepping away entirely.
Brendon has trouble getting the belt undone so that he can take it up to the counter to pay.
He waits for the girl to ring it up, glances over at Adam, who's standing by the door to the shop. Adam's obviously watching him, and he doesn't look away when Brendon turns his head.
He finishes paying and walks over to Adam.
"How far away is your place?" Adam asks as they walk down the street.
"It's not, I mean, but I've got a roommate," Brendon says. "So."
"I don't," Adam says.
"Awesome, yeah, so, we should, oh, hey, look." Brendon points up ahead. "There's a movie theatre. Do you want to see what's playing?"
"You want to go watch a movie?" Adam asks.
"It's still pretty early," Brendon says. "And then we can, and then we could go back to your place."
Adam gives him an incredulous look.
"We don't have to," Brendon says. "Just since we're right here."
"Uh, yeah, whatever," Adam says. "Lead the way."
--
It's after one when they finally get out of the theatre, and the movie was shit so Brendon's half asleep. He blinks at the brightness of the lights as they walk through the lobby.
He rubs his cheek and watches Adam move his bangs to the side with a careful sweep of his fingers.
"And on that note, I think we should call it a night," Adam says.
Brendon nods, and bites the inside of his cheek.
Adam adjusts the collar of his jacket, rolls his shoulders, and says goodbye. Brendon stands at the exit of the theatre for a moment, watching Adam walk down the street, before he turns in the opposite direction and heads back to his car.
Shane's not going to be home tonight, and Brendon's tired but not tired enough to go back to his empty house. He heads for Ryan's instead, not bothering to call first and check if Ryan's there. Even if Ryan's out, Eric might be home, and even if Eric isn't home, at least Brendon will have killed some time in the drive.
The lights are on in the house. He parks the car in their driveway and makes his way up to the front door. No one answers, so he walks around back instead.
Ryan and Eric are sitting at opposite ends of the couch, the outdoor lights glowing softly in a line around the deck. There's a bong on the ground in front of them and Brendon says, "You guys know how to have a good time."
"Hey," Eric says, lifting his hand to slap Brendon's in hello.
"What's up?" Ryan asks.
"Nothing much. Just thought I'd drop by. Were you thinking of starting another bowl?" Brendon asks, settling on the couch in between them.
"Did you and Shane run out of weed?" Ryan asks.
"What a thing to say," Brendon protests. "Me and Shane run out of weed. Not likely."
Ryan laughs and says, "Well, if you insist, I guess we could pack another."
--
They finish the bowl and Ryan and Eric head into the house and off to bed.
"I'm just going to crash here for a bit," Brendon says. "So that I can drive home."
"You want to come inside?" Ryan offers. "There's a couch, or the spare bedroom if you feel up to looking for clean sheets. Or just call a cab."
"Nah, I'm good," Brendon says. "You made the backyard all vibey for a reason."
"I'll leave the door unlocked," Ryan says. "If you change your mind."
Brendon stretches out on the couch. It's make of outdoor-safe material and squeaks a little when he shifts his weight. He lets his hand hang off the edge until his fingers brush against rock, drags the tips of his fingers in a line, feeling grit collect under his nails.
It's the middle of night, but the lights are still on so he can see. He reaches for his cellphone and sets his alarm for five a.m. so that he won't accidentally sleep too long and not be there to let the dogs out, then crosses his hands behind his head and closes his eyes.
--
The roads are quiet and the sun has just finished rising when Brendon gets into his car to drive back home.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket when he's stopped at a red light, texts Adam: Can we do last nite over? ;)
Adam doesn't text back. Of course he doesn't; he'll still be asleep. Brendon sets his phone into the drink holder and tries to focus on the road.
--
Brendon wakes up sometime after four, grunts hello who Shane, who's sitting in the kitchen, and stumbles into the shower.
When he walks back into his bedroom, his phone buzzes at him. What part of lastnite do u want to try again? from Adam.
Brendon sends back, I just want to c you again.. no bad movies this time?? ;)
Brendon throws his towel on the floor and reaches for the closest pair of jeans. He's just doing up the button when Adam texts back, I'm going out dancing tonite. Then a minute later, U can come if u want..
--
*
--
The club is packed but somehow Adam walks in and manages to find them a booth right away. He's meeting up with friends later, but Brendon said he didn't know the place that Adam was talking about, so the two of them met earlier and showed up together. Adam's wearing black pants and a skin tight, slightly see-through shirt. He didn't say anything about the way that Brendon's dressed: jeans, a t-shirt, and jacket, but even Adam's dressed a little conservatively compared to most of the other people in the club. Brendon probably stands out, and not in a good way.
"I'm going to go get us drinks," Brendon says. He walks over to the bar and tries to figure out what the fuck he should order when the bartender clinks his tongue ring at Brendon and asks, "What'll you have, honey?"
Brendon doesn't know what he should ask for, doesn't actually know what Adam drinks. "Two rum and Cokes, please," Brendon says. "No, wait, Long Island Iced Teas, two of those. And a couple shots of rum."
The bartender sets two shot glasses down on the bar and pours the rum with a quick flick of his wrist. Brendon downs both of them while he waits for the other drinks to be made.
--
Adam's friends are loud and they all know each other and everyone else as well, it seems like. Brendon chews on the ice cubes in his otherwise empty glass and laughs along with their jokes.
"I'm going to get another," Brendon tells Adam. It's too loud in the club to whisper, but he leans in so that he doesn't have to shout. "Do you want something different this time?"
"No, that was good," Adam says. "Thanks."
There's a wait to get to the bar, and when Brendon finally gets there, he orders the same, knocking back both shots in quick succession. Three people squeeze his ass while he walks back to the table, and he nearly spills both of the drinks.
"He's sweet," one of Adam's friends says when Brendon passes Adam the drink.
"Don't even start," Adam says, holding up one of his hands. His friend opens his mouth and Adam repeats, "No. No," each time until the friend ducks his head and laughs. Adam reaches over and rubs the guy's shoulder, grins and says, "Thank you."
Brendon takes a sip of his drink, leaves the straw in his mouth afterwards and chews on the end of it.
He finishes his drink and heads back to the bar.
--
"You can't possibly be this much of a lightweight," Adam says. They're on the dance floor, but Brendon's not doing his best dancing right now. He's all soft-limbed and floaty, and really he'd rather dance with Adam, but he's embarrassed with all of Adam's friends watching.
"I might have also had a couple of shots," Brendon says.
Adam's eyebrows knit together.
"No, trust me, I'm better in clubs when I'm drunk," Brendon says.
"You're kind of ridiculous," Adam says. "And it's not always in a good way."
"I know," Brendon says. He sounds unhappy, but he doesn't actually feel that bad. His legs feel like they're filled with white noise.
He reaches forward and tucks his finger through Adam's belt loop, just to see what Adam does.
Adam looks down, one corner of his mouth quirked up. He reaches for Brendon's wrist, but not to pull him away like Brendon was first worried he'd do. Instead, he runs his hand up the length of Brendon's arm, settling finally on his shoulder.
"C'mon," he says. "Dance it off."
--
Brendon doesn't know if dancing actually helps him sober up-- even though all the sweating he's doing probably helps for something-- but Adam's a good dancer, and once Brendon stops worrying about stepping on Adam's toes or all of the other dumb shit that bounces around in his head, he actually has a really good time.
Someone comes over to tell Adam that they're going to head somewhere else, and Adam says, "Alright, call me tomorrow or something," and stays with Brendon on the dance floor.
Brendon licks his lips then lifts his head. Adam's got one arm wrapped around Brendon's waist, his fingers resting low on Brendon's back. Brendon touches his palm to Adam's chest, thinks about bouncing up on his toes to reach Adam's mouth for a kiss, but doesn't.
"How are you doing?" Adam asks.
"Good," Brendon says, nodding his head.
"Do you maybe want to go back to my place now?"
"Yeah," Brendon says.
"At the end of this song," Adam says, and they start to dance again.
--
Brendon undresses quickly, then helps Adam take off his clothes, sliding Adam's socks over the sharp curve of his ankle bone while Adam pulls his shirt over his head. Adam undoes his pants and Brendon tugs them down, pushing them off the side of the bed. Adam reaches for him, and Brendon crawls up to the head of the bed.
He kisses Adam. "Do you have lube?" he asks. Then, "We could do that tonight, right?"
"Yeah, we could do that," Adam says, grinning. He rolls to the edge of the bed and slides open the drawer of his bedside table, pulls out a bottle of lube, which he tosses behind himself onto the mattress, then roots around for a condom.
He settles back on the bed, looking around for the bottle, and seems surprised when he realizes that it's in Brendon's hand. Brendon flicks open the cap with his thumb. He raises his eyebrow, looking at Adam before pouring any into his hand.
"Ah," Adam says. "I mean, yeah, sure."
"Awesome," Brendon says. He shuffles over, kneeling between Adam's legs. He hesitates before tipping the bottle and asks, "Should I do this?"
"...Yes?" Adam says, sounding confusing. "As opposed to what?"
"If you wanted to-- yourself."
"Are you asking me to finger myself?" Adam asks.
"No," says Brendon quickly. "Just checking." He switches the bottle into his other hand and drizzles lube over the first two fingers of his right hand. He reaches down, his fingers sliding around before he finds the pucker of Adam's asshole. He pushes one finger inside, pulls his hand back and replaces one with two.
Adam clenches tightly around him, and Brendon freezes, waiting until he can feel Adam start to relax before he pushes forward again. He pushes his fingers in and out in long strokes, wiggling his hand around a little to encourage Adam to loosen up.
When he pulls his hand away, Adam lifts his head and looks up at him. While Brendon grabs for the condom, Adam reaches down and slides his fingers inside, holding them still as far as Brendon can tell. He can see the tendons on the back of Adam's hand flexing, but there doesn't seem to be any other movement.
"I guess that's alright," Adam says after a long minute that Brendon spends sitting back on his heels and waiting. He looks at Brendon again, but Brendon's not sure what he's supposed to say, so he just shuffles forward on his knees.
He tries to line up his dick but it's not a good angle, and he doesn't know what he should do to make it better.
"I'm going to roll over," Adam says after an awkward moment of silence.
Brendon nods and moves backward so that there's room for Adam to turn around. He settles on his hands and knees. Brendon strokes his dick a couple of times then tries again.
It feels like it takes forever for him to get all the way inside. Adam's whole body is frozen and Brendon doesn't know if he should go slower or what. He doesn't know if he can go any slower; it already feels like he's hardly moving at all.
Eventually he gets all the way inside and it gets easier to move. It's better after that, better when he can actually move his hips. He wonders if he should reach around and also try to jerk Adam off, but there's enough for him to focus on as it is. Adam finally moves one hand down, falling to his other forearm. Brendon watches his back, freckles clustering in a thick strip along the top of his shoulders and slowly fading out further down his back.
Both of them are silent, so the only noises in the room are the wet sounds of their bodies slapping together and the low creaks when the mattress shifts. Brendon doesn't feel any urgency right now, but he almost wishes he did because he'd like to come soon. A little bead of sweat trickles down the center of his back. He's hardly touching his hands to Adam's hips, but still his palms slide around.
He flops onto the bed soon after coming, and Adam rolls over, taking his dick into hand again. Brendon wonders if he should blow him or something. He's tired, though. From dancing and from coming and from drinking too much. He lies on his side, facing Adam, thinks that maybe he could at least help jerk him off, but ends up passing out before he actually sees Adam come.
--
Brendon wakes and he doesn't know where he is. He sits quickly, looking around the room. His stomach lurches.
"Oh my god, shut the fuck up," Adam groans, rolling away from Brendon and hunching in on himself.
"Sorry," Brendon whispers. Should he lie back down? Should he leave? What time is it?
He sits frozen on the bed and after a minute Adam rolls over onto his back.
"Is this why you don't stay the night?" Adam asks. "You have some kind of deficiency that doesn't allow you to let other people sleep? Do you even realize how early it is?"
"I'm not wearing a watch," Brendon says.
"You're a disaster," Adam says. "And you fucking passed out, drooling on my shoulder last night, so I couldn't get out of bed to wash off my makeup and now I look like a disaster, and now you're not even letting me sleep in."
"You look pretty hot," Brendon says, honestly. Adam's hair is all messy and his eye makeup is smeared and his face looks cranky, but it somehow all adds together well.
"Who are you?" Adam asks. "Seriously. I don't even know what I'm supposed to do with you. And how fucking drunk were you last night?"
"Not that drunk," Brendon says. "I'm sorry I crashed so hard, I dunno why that happened."
"And before you crashed--?"
"What about that?"
"Have you done this before?" Adam asks.
"What, anal? Of course I've--"
"With a guy," says Adam.
"Have I had sex with a guy?"
"Brendon," Adam says. "Before last night, how many times have you put your dick into another dude's ass. Literally."
"Okay, literally I haven't before. With a guy. But it's just the same as with--"
"It's not the same," Adam interrupts.
"What?" Brendon asks. "Sure it is. I mean, in terms of what you need to--"
"No," Adam says.
"Well, basically--"
"No," Adam says.
Brendon starts to say something, but when Adam give him a look, he closes his mouth.
"Have you even fingered yourself before?"
"Um, that's not really-- I mean, yeah, but it's not really my thing," Brendon says.
Adam stares at him.
"I'll do better next time?" Brendon offers.
"Do you not bottom or something?"
"What? Do I-- what? Yeah, of course, what do you-- what?" Brendon scratches at the corner of his mouth. "That's just not usually how I-- do it."
"How about this," Adam says. "You stick your fingers up your ass, and we'll talk again once you've figured out that guys have prostates."
Brendon swallows.
Adam sighs. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm bitchy in the mornings, just ignore me."
"Was it really bad?" Brendon asks.
"Have you really never fucked a guy before?" Adam asks.
Brendon shakes his head.
"At some point in time, did it occur to you that maybe that was a conversation we should be having?"
"Ah," Brendon says. "I don't know. No. I guess not."
"It was a conversation we should have had," Adam says. "I'm telling you this."
"Okay," Brendon says. He wishes that Adam would roll over so that he could get out of bed and find his clothes. He doesn't want to pull the sheet away while Adam is looking at him.
Instead, Adam touches his hand to Brendon's elbow before patting the bed.
Brendon lies back down, his movements stiff and awkward. Adam scoots up beside him, resting his head beside Brendon's on the pillow.
"How old were you when you had sex with a guy for the first time?" Adam asks.
"Nineteen," Brendon says.
"And you were?"
"On tour."
"And he was?"
"Someone I met after a show."
"And?"
"And he blew me and then I never saw him again, I don't know," Brendon says. "Lather, rinse, and repeat."
"Hey, whatever," Adam says, moving his hand to rest his palm across Brendon's chest. "Hooking up can be awesome." He strokes his thumb up and down softly. "That's not really what I'm looking for right now though."
Brendon holds his breath. He could tell Adam, Fair enough, slide out of bed and catch a cab back home. Adam's giving him an easy out. If he ran into Adam at an event again, he could probably even pretend that there weren't any hard feelings between them.
But he stays where he is, covers Adam's hand with his own. Says, "I know." Says, "Me neither."
"Does that mean we can go back to sleep now?" Adam asks. "Or is your deficiency more of a chronic condition?"
Brendon turns his head, resting his cheek on the pillow. His and Adam's faces are only inches apart. This close, he can only focus on one of Adam's eyes at a time. He probably looks weird and cross-eyed, but Adam smiles, lifts his hand from underneath Brendon's and presses it to Brendon's neck instead, his fingers just brushing the hair at the base of Brendon's skull.
"Okay," Adam says. "I'll make you breakfast."
They're both still naked. Adam pulls back the sheets and walks over to his closet. He pulls out a couple pairs of pants, tossing one over to Brendon. They're soft and stretchy and way too big for Brendon, even after he rolls up the waistband a few times. They're all light and floaty around his legs when he walks behind Adam out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
"Is an omelet okay?" Adam asks.
"Yeah," Brendon says. He hops up onto the counter while Adam roots around through the fridge. "Oh, actually," he says, jumping back down. "I'd better call my roommate. I'll be right back."
He heads for the bedroom, fishing his phone out of his jeans, still lying discarded on the floor.
"Hey," Brendon says when Shane picks up. "You're home, right?"
"Yeah," Shane says. "But you're not."
"I just wanted to make sure that you were there to let the dogs out," Brendon says. "I'll probably be back in an hour or two."
"Dude, what the hell?" Shane asks. "Did you stay the night?"
"Umm, yeah," Brendon says.
"What, did she drug you or something?"
"Ha. Ha," Brendon says. "Okay, I"ll talk to you later."
When he walks back into the kitchen, Adam turns and asks him, "Is your roommate your roommate, or --"
"He's my roommate," Brendon says. "I'm not sure what inflection I should put there. He's also technically my personal assistant sometimes, and he films us a lot when we're on tour."
Adam nods, and stirs the little pieces of green pepper he's got sizzling in the frying pan.
"He's straight," Brendon says. "Pretty much-- I mean, I think -- all of my friends are straight." He looks over Adam's shoulder. "Is there something I can do to help?"
"Nope," Adam says. He sets the wooden spoon down on the counter and reaches for Brendon, his hands coming to rest low on Brendon's waist. "These aren't staying up very well," he says, fingering the waistband of the pants Brendon is wearing.
"No," Brendon agrees.
Adam looks at him, and Brendon can feel a flush start to spread down his chest. Or maybe it's not a flush, maybe he just feels warm. He leaves his arms hanging down at his sides and lets Adam look at him, lets Adam slide gentle fingers along his torso, mapping out the line of his belly, the curve of his hipbone, the stretch of skin high up on his chest, until Brendon can feel the prickle of goosebumps rising. His nipples harden, and Adam slides his palms down, circles his thumbs, featherlight, and Brendon drops his head forward.
He blinks, shakes himself a little, when Adam pulls away and says, "The food's going to burn. Stop being so distracting." The pants are stretched tightly around the line of his erection, and Adam can see everything. Brendon can't even try to tuck himself up because the pants are so loose that they'll probably just slide right down.
Instead, he shuffles over, hopping up onto the counter, hunching in on himself even though that probably doesn't hide much.
Adam cracks four eggs into a glass bowl and whisks them with a fork. He's hard too, Brendon can see. He pours the eggs into a skillet, adjusts the heat of the stove, and then walks over to Brendon. He touches his fingers to the inside of Brendon's knees and Brendon opens, making room for Adam to take another step closer.
Adam cups his hands low on Brendon's ribcage, and even though he's sitting on the counter, Brendon still has to tilt his head back before he's able to reach Adam's mouth. They both exhale sharply at the first press of their lips together, Brendon's fingers scrambling for purchase on Adam's shoulder. Adam's hands are firm around Brendon's middle, and he feels like Adam is holding him up.
Adam pushes his tongue into Brendon's mouth, this blunt pressure sliding across Brendon's tongue that makes him want to set his fingernails into Adam's shoulder. He holds on tightly, his hips twitching forward even though he can't really move like this.
It takes him a minute to remember to open his eyes again after Adam pulls away. Adam touches his finger to the edge of Brendon's bottom lip, and Brendon lifts his own hand without thinking, mimicking the gesture.
"I'm going to finish making breakfast now," Adam says, curling his hand into a loose fist and sliding his knuckles down Brendon's sternum.
Brendon licks his lips, says, "Okay," then, belatedly, "Good idea." He reaches down and curls his hands around the edge of the counter, flexes his legs so that his heels rub up and down the surface of the wood.
"What would you like to drink?" Adam asks, lifting glasses out of the cupboard on the other side of the stove.
"Juice," Brendon says. "If you have any." He lowers himself off of the counter, reaching out his hands. "I can take those over to the table." Adam passes him the glasses, then turns to grab juice out of the fridge.
He walks back over and asks, "Plates?"
Adam points at one of the cupboards. Brendon's fingers shake as he reaches into the cupboard. He can't stop thinking about how his erection bobs in front of him when he walks.
He carries plates over to the table, and Adam follows him, holding the skillet. He cuts the omelet down the center with the spatula, then slides a half onto each plate. He walks back into the kitchen with the skillet, and comes back carrying forks.
"Thanks," Brendon says when Adam passes him one, then, "This is really good," after taking a bite.
"Awesome," Adam says.
They're sitting kitty corner from each other at the table. Brendon straightens his leg, covers Adam's foot with his own. He grins when Adam looks up at him, doesn't move his foot away.
They're nearly done eating when the phone rings.
Adam winces, and says, "Shit, I totally forgot that I'd made plans for brunch." Brendon lifts his foot and Adam stands, walking over to the phone.
"Hey," Adam says. "Umm. Mh hm. What time were you thinking? Yeah. What time is it now? Do you want to do dinner instead? Hm, yeah, no, yeah, yeah, it's okay. Yeah, it's okay. Uh huh. Yeah, okay, I'll see you then." He hangs up the phone.
"My friend's moving, and I've really got to see him before he goes," Adam says.
"That's fine," Brendon says. "What time do you have to leave at?"
"Pretty soon," Adam says apologetically. "You can stay here and shower or whatever if you want."
"I'm good," Brendon says, shaking his head. He stands and takes his plate to the kitchen, setting it in the sink.
"Just leave it," Adam says. "I'll load the dishwasher later."
Adam comes into the bedroom before Brendon has finished dressing, leaning against the door frame. Brendon slides the pants off and drapes them over the edge of the bed before reaching for his pants. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Adam watching him. He has to hold his erection up before he's able to convince the button on his jeans to close, and even then it takes some wiggling.
He pulls the hem of his t-shirt down and looks over at Adam.
"Come here," Adam says.
Brendon walks across the room and stops in front of Adam.
"Did you call a cab?" Adam asks. Brendon nods.
Adam cups Brendon's head in both hands, smoothing his fingers through his hair. He drags his hands down to rest on Brendon's shoulders and Brendon flattens one of his palms to Adam's belly.
"I'll call you later," Adam says. He walks Brendon to the door and kisses him goodbye, slow and thorough and eventually Brendon has to pull away. He ducks his head, running his fingers through his bangs, and tries to catch his breath. Says, "Have fun with your friend," and steps outside.
He slides into the cab, gives his address, and settles back into the seat, tipping his head backwards and closing his eyes. He feels strung out, a little from not sleeping and a little from drinking too much and a little from-- he doesn't even know. He buttons up his jacket and slides his hands in between his thighs, trying to warm his fingers. It's not that cold in the cab; he just feels worn out. He feels like he's still waiting for something. He wonders if Adam has left the house yet.
It's brighter than Brendon expects it to be, even though it's already late into the morning. Maybe he can take a nap when he gets home.
--
"Spencer called," Shane tells him when he gets home.
"I had my phone on me," Brendon says.
"He was trying to reach us both," Shane informs him.
Brendon laughs. "What did Spencer say? Does he know when Jon's going to fly in?"
"Not until next week, I don't think," Shane says. "Spencer's staying over at Ryan's for the weekend, and he said that we should come over for a movie night."
"Cool," Brendon says. "Are you going to bring Regan?"
"I think he rented Wayne's World," Shane says. "So, I don't know if she'll want to come. Why, is there someone you want to bring?"
"I'm going to take a nap," Brendon says. "Are we going to try and get groceries this afternoon?"
"Yeah, that'd probably be a good idea," Shane says.
"'kay, wake me up when you want to leave."
--
*
--
"How fucking sweet would it be to cover Bohemian Rhapsody?" Spencer asks after the scene finishes.
"That's be pretty fucking sweet," Shane says.
"Pretty fucking hard," Brendon says, and then at the same time Shane and Spencer yell, "That's what she said!" and lean over to high five each other.
Brendon's phone buzzes, and he rolls off the couch, pulling it out of his pocket.
"I'll be right back," he says. He ducks out of the room and accepts the call. "Hey."
"Hey you," Adam says. "How's it going?"
"Good," Brendon says. "Just debating the merits of covering Bohemian Rhapsody."
"I sang that for one of my auditions for Idol," Adam says.
"Seriously?" Brendon asks. "So we definitely shouldn't attempt to cover it then. How was your friend?"
"Good," Adam says. "I wasn't really ready to eat a second meal though. What are your plans for the rest of the night?"
"I think we're just hanging out," Brendon says. "One of my bandmates came in from Vegas for the weekend."
"So are you going to be hanging out with them for a while?" Adam asks.
"Yeah, I think so," Brendon says.
"How about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow would be good."
"Awesome," Adam says. "There're a bunch of places close to my place, so do you want to just come over there and then decide where we want to go?"
"Yeah," Brendon says. "That sounds good. What time should I head over?"
After the call ends, Brendon walks back into Ryan's rec room.
"So," Spencer says.
"Who was that?" asks Ryan.
"Brendon spent the night," Shane tells them. "He didn't get back until nearly noon."
"Seriously?" Spencer asks. "And he gave her his phone number?"
"Shut up and play the movie," Brendon says.
--
*
--
Part TWO