I WILL MANGLE YOUR MIND (Oneshot)
I WILL MANGLE YOUR MIND
A Gift Ficlet for the Holidays
By: Lady Michaelis
Pairing: Cale Mills/Tommy Joe Ratliff, with mentions of Adam Lambert/Kris Allen
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mentions of sexual situations, infidelity, foul language
Genre: Romance/Erotica
Summary: It was like Velvet Goldmine all over again, only this time, Tommy was Brian Slade.
Notes: This is my present to orchidfiction. Some references and several quotes are all property of that charming little flick we like to call Velvet Goldmine.
If there was anything that Tommy Joe Ratliff hated about parties, it was the task of cleaning up as soon as the last guest trooped out the door. Technically, he could have been that last guest; he was not obligated to stay behind for cleaning duty since it wasn’t his house. However, the host of the night was sprawled gracelessly over one of the living room sofas, fast asleep and completely unaware of everything that was going on around him. Tommy loved Adam Lambert like his own brother, but it would be nice if he stopped drinking past his limits every now and then so he could actually help with the cleaning.
It would also spare Tommy’s eardrums of the frantic seven AM phone calls he got from Adam each time the moron passed out at one of his own parties.
“He’s such a big help, isn’t he?” Kris Allen asked, pausing to brush aside the bangs that had fallen into his currently less-than-elegant boyfriend’s face. “It’s the same way even when he’s awake and coherent. I mean, it’s not that he doesn’t try to help me keep house-he does; and he tries so hard, too-but it’s just something that he was born to be terrible at. I limit his chores to feeding and taking the dogs out for walks to make sure he doesn’t bust any more of our home appliances.”
“Did you decide on this before or after he accidentally let the washer overload while he was watching Gossip Girl?” Tommy asked dryly.
“I think that was after,” Kris recalled thoughtfully. “Anyway, I should drag Adam upstairs to bed; he’ll be extremely cranky if I leave him to sleep here. Do you mind helping Andrew dump all the empty bottles out back? I’ll be back to finish up as soon as I win the battle with my snoring boyfriend.”
“Let me give you a hand, buddy,” Monte Pittman offered. “I’ve got a few minutes to spare until daddy curfew kicks in. We’d better make this quick; Lisa wants me home in ten.”
“Don’t forget the presents I brought back from Prague for Lisa and the babies, alright?” Kris reminded him, struggling a little under the extra weight as they hefted Adam onto their shoulders. “Ariel probably won’t appreciate it if you forget to hand over the giant My Little Pony plushie I got her. Oh, Tommy, if you need any more help, Cam and Isaac are still here, I think. Cale is, too; I just can’t find him.”
“I’ll be fine as long as I don’t run into some other drunken person with his ass hanging out of his pants,” Tommy replied, slinging the garbage bag over his shoulder. “In case my battery runs out when the clock hits the witching hour, I hope you don’t mind me crashing in one of your guest rooms later.”
“Be my guest,” Kris called out after his retreating form. “As long as no one knocks down any of my Christmas decorations, you’re all free to sleep wherever you want to.”
Tommy made his way into the kitchen, where Andrew De Roberts was currently sorting through the other bag with a pair of rubber kitchen gloves (Adam and Kris had suddenly gone environmental on them over the holiday season; it was a little scary). He shot Tommy a grateful look before going back to the task at hand, mumbling something about Kris and his recycling fetish.
“Have you seen Cam or Isaac anywhere?” Tommy asked. “The living room is still a mess; someone has to get to that before something spills onto Kris’ precious snow angel.”
“Cam’s off doing man chores,” Andrew replied with a grin. “She was the only one brave enough to deal with the unpleasant remains of some person’s earlier enthusiasm. Isaac is playing chaperone; he left for awhile to take some of the unfortunate party victims home. He said he’d be back to help straighten up, so here’s hoping no other room in this house is as trashed as the downstairs area.”
“I don’t hear Kris mourning the loss of a broken Christmas ornament, so I guess we’re good,” Tommy remarked. “As soon as I finish what I signed up to do, I’m going to crash and sleep for as long as I please. I do, however, intend to call Adam at six in the morning to wake him up as a form of revenge.”
It took him awhile to unload the contents of his garbage bag into the recycle bin, but the presence of an empty bag only meant that he would have to move on to the next chore. Sighing, he crumpled up the bag and tossed it in the bin Kris had designated for plastic disposables before returning to the living room to see what else he could remedy. A quick scan of his surroundings told him that some disinfecting was in order, so he backtracked into the side hallway where Kradam-‘Adam and Kris’ was so overrated when they were obviously headed for the altar-kept their cleaning supplies. As he was rummaging in the supply closet for things to include in his cleaning arsenal, he heard a muffled, angry-sounding voice coming from outside. Puzzled, Tommy stepped out onto the patio, his chores momentarily forgotten in the wake of finding the source of the sudden noise.
“You can’t just fucking assume things like that, Kate! Are you going to believe a page six insert from a stupid tabloid over what I have to say?”
To state the obvious, the voice belonged to Cale Mills. No one else had a girlfriend named Kate.
Though he and Cale had never been close, Tommy couldn’t help but feel terrible for the guy. It was Christmas Eve, and he was in the midst of what sounded like a terrible fight with his significant other. Feeling like he was intruding on Cale’s privacy, Tommy turned to step back inside the house. This, however, had been interrupted by the sound of Cale throwing his phone against the tree trunk. Somewhat concerned, Tommy made his way down the patio steps and into the yard, grabbing Cale by the wrist before he ended up hurting himself in an attempt to have one-on-one combat with a tree.
“Dude, slamming your fist into an oak tree may make you angrier than you already are.”
“What I choose to act my frustrations out on is none of your business, Ratliff,” Cale scowled. “And who told you that you could eavesdrop on what was obviously a private conversation, anyway?”
“For your information, I wasn’t eavesdropping,” Tommy huffed. “I just happened to overhear your angry caveman grunts while I was raiding the supply closet for cleaning materials. Now, seeing as you don’t seem to want to nor never probably will want my company, I’m just going to go and leave you to your lonesome. Jesus Christ, what the fuck did I ever do to you, anyway?”
As soon as he turned his back on Cale, he felt a hand tug at his wrist, keeping him in place.
“What the fuck?” he whirled around angrily. “I have no intentions of being your punching bag, if that’s what you’re thinking. If you don’t have anything important to say, let me go.”
“Do you want to know why I seem to dislike you so much?”
“Now you ask me that?” Tommy asked incredulously, a nasty laugh escaping his throat. “It’s been three years, Cale; three fucking long years of us playing this lameass cat-and-mouse game. Do you think I’m still interested to find out at this point?”
“I know those eyes, Ratliff,” Cale said darkly. “You’re curious, but you just pretend not to be so people will leave you alone. That’s why you’re always wearing your poker face, aren’t you? You’re determined to keep that mysterious aura hanging over your head so people will never be able to figure you out.”
Tommy bristled. What was it with this guy and his habit of kicking Tommy where it actually hurt?
“Fine,” he said evenly, blowing out a frustrated breath that made his bangs fly up from his face. “Let’s say you’re right about me being curious; let’s say I actually want to listen. So, come on, speak up.”
He yelped in surprise as Cale backed him up against the oak tree, pinning him effectively by planting his palm on Tommy’s chest-gentle enough as not to bruise, but hard enough to sustain his hold. He slid his thigh in between Tommy’s legs, rubbing carefully at Tommy’s groin.
“You have no fucking idea what you to do me, Thomas Joseph Ratliff,” Cale murmured, his voice low and husky. “Ever since that stupid kiss from the AMAs, your face just wouldn’t leave my mind. Your very existence was fucking with my head; I wasn’t supposed to want you. I was in a long-term relationship with the girl I’ve loved since I was in high school, but I couldn’t keep myself away from you. Whenever I needed a quick release, I would just pull up one of those Glam Nation videos with you jacking your bass and letting Adam have his way with you and go to town with my fantasies. Sex with Kate wasn’t even enough for me anymore. As soon as she would fall asleep, I’d jack myself off in the bathroom, imagining your mouth around my cock. I can never want her the way I will always want you.”
Tommy felt his face heat up in embarrassment as a soft whimper escaped his lips. He wasn’t supposed to be turned on by this; he wasn’t supposed to feel even a sliver of lust for a man who had spent all of three years either ignoring him or making jabs at him whenever they were in the same room together. Some time ago, Adam had brought up the warped concept of sexuality that most people seemed to have been born with. They had been going over the tweets concerning the “Fever” kiss, and Adam had thrown in a casual remark brought upon by amusement. He mentioned something about how insignificant orientation was in a romantic relationship because he believed that every person was born desiring a trait or a quality that could only be found in one in a million people. When Monte had asked whether it was a conscious or an unconscious thing, Adam shrugged and said it could be either. Tommy had difficulty understanding what Adam had been trying to say at that time, but he understood it quite well now.
The fact that Cale Mills had harbored nearly three years’ worth of sexual desires for him was more than enough to knock him dead. The fact that his body was responding so obscenely to Cale’s words made him want to crawl down the rabbit hole and never come back out.
“…so, how badly do you want me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“The world is made of ivory and gold,” Cale recited softly, running a thumb over one of Tommy’s cheekbones. “The curves of your lips rewrite history.”
Tommy closed his eyes in supplication the moment Cale’s lips brushed over his. It was like Velvet Goldmine all over again, only this time, he was Brian Slade.
And unlike the movie, there were no flashbulbs to interrupt them as they kissed under the falling snow.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tommy had never curled up in post-coital bliss with a man before. Over the course of time, he had gotten used to playing the role of the big spoon, his hands splayed over breasts and the soft curves of a woman’s body. He knew little of what to make of his current position-head resting on Cale’s chest, hands clumsily yet tenderly mapping the ridges and hard muscle of his torso. Cale was watching him closely; a fond little grin on his face as he wound him arms around Tommy’s slender form.
“Well played, Tommy Joe.”
“Is this your way of complimenting my bottoming skills?” Tommy asked with a smirk, playfully biting at one of Cale’s nipples. “I think I kind of suck at it, though; it is my first time and all.”
“Well, practice makes perfect,” Cale cocked his head.
Tommy stared at him for a few moments, wondering if Cale had the slightest idea of the implications his statement could have. According to Tommy’s post-sex level of comprehension, it was an invitation to more fuck sessions and maybe a dinner date or two.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Cale sighed, peppering Tommy’s face with kisses. “I’m going to talk to Kate as soon as I can; I need to tell her that it really is over between us.”
“Don’t you want to think about this a little longer?” Tommy asked softly. “You’ve had her for years, man; I’m not sure if it’s wise to trade her in for someone you spent one night with.”
“Listen to me, babe,” Cale ran a hand over his bare hip, curling it around Tommy’s waist to pull him close. “True love knows no expiration dates. If she and I were really meant to be together, we’d probably be married with children right now. As Kris once told me, he couldn’t imagine having that kind of a life with Katy; I feel the same way about Kate.”
“So, are you saying you can imagine raising tiny blond babies with me?”
“Kind of, yeah,” Cale said happily, nosing his way into Tommy’s hair.
“That’s retarded,” Tommy mumbled, hiding his smile in Cale’s shoulder. “But seriously speaking, I’m…I’m happy, Cale. No one has ever been willing to give up this much for me before-not to mention I have never ended up in bed with a Southern gentleman who was sweet enough to watch Velvet Goldmine so he could perhaps be my Curt Wild.”
“Think of it as a Christmas present of some sort. Who knows, maybe Curt Wild and Brian Slade will actually have a happy ending this time.”
Tommy sighed as Cale curled himself tighter around him, limbs and arms tangling in threads of milky white and golden brown. As Tommy’s eyes began to flutter closed, he whispered the words that would very well mark the beginning of their story; he etched them into Cale’s flesh with his tongue and his hands, creating a memory that would stand the test of time.
“For once, there was an unknown land, full of strange flowers and subtle perfumes; a land of which it is joy of all joys to dream; a land where all things are perfect and poisonous…”
A Gift Ficlet for the Holidays
By: Lady Michaelis
Pairing: Cale Mills/Tommy Joe Ratliff, with mentions of Adam Lambert/Kris Allen
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mentions of sexual situations, infidelity, foul language
Genre: Romance/Erotica
Summary: It was like Velvet Goldmine all over again, only this time, Tommy was Brian Slade.
Notes: This is my present to orchidfiction. Some references and several quotes are all property of that charming little flick we like to call Velvet Goldmine.
If there was anything that Tommy Joe Ratliff hated about parties, it was the task of cleaning up as soon as the last guest trooped out the door. Technically, he could have been that last guest; he was not obligated to stay behind for cleaning duty since it wasn’t his house. However, the host of the night was sprawled gracelessly over one of the living room sofas, fast asleep and completely unaware of everything that was going on around him. Tommy loved Adam Lambert like his own brother, but it would be nice if he stopped drinking past his limits every now and then so he could actually help with the cleaning.
It would also spare Tommy’s eardrums of the frantic seven AM phone calls he got from Adam each time the moron passed out at one of his own parties.
“He’s such a big help, isn’t he?” Kris Allen asked, pausing to brush aside the bangs that had fallen into his currently less-than-elegant boyfriend’s face. “It’s the same way even when he’s awake and coherent. I mean, it’s not that he doesn’t try to help me keep house-he does; and he tries so hard, too-but it’s just something that he was born to be terrible at. I limit his chores to feeding and taking the dogs out for walks to make sure he doesn’t bust any more of our home appliances.”
“Did you decide on this before or after he accidentally let the washer overload while he was watching Gossip Girl?” Tommy asked dryly.
“I think that was after,” Kris recalled thoughtfully. “Anyway, I should drag Adam upstairs to bed; he’ll be extremely cranky if I leave him to sleep here. Do you mind helping Andrew dump all the empty bottles out back? I’ll be back to finish up as soon as I win the battle with my snoring boyfriend.”
“Let me give you a hand, buddy,” Monte Pittman offered. “I’ve got a few minutes to spare until daddy curfew kicks in. We’d better make this quick; Lisa wants me home in ten.”
“Don’t forget the presents I brought back from Prague for Lisa and the babies, alright?” Kris reminded him, struggling a little under the extra weight as they hefted Adam onto their shoulders. “Ariel probably won’t appreciate it if you forget to hand over the giant My Little Pony plushie I got her. Oh, Tommy, if you need any more help, Cam and Isaac are still here, I think. Cale is, too; I just can’t find him.”
“I’ll be fine as long as I don’t run into some other drunken person with his ass hanging out of his pants,” Tommy replied, slinging the garbage bag over his shoulder. “In case my battery runs out when the clock hits the witching hour, I hope you don’t mind me crashing in one of your guest rooms later.”
“Be my guest,” Kris called out after his retreating form. “As long as no one knocks down any of my Christmas decorations, you’re all free to sleep wherever you want to.”
Tommy made his way into the kitchen, where Andrew De Roberts was currently sorting through the other bag with a pair of rubber kitchen gloves (Adam and Kris had suddenly gone environmental on them over the holiday season; it was a little scary). He shot Tommy a grateful look before going back to the task at hand, mumbling something about Kris and his recycling fetish.
“Have you seen Cam or Isaac anywhere?” Tommy asked. “The living room is still a mess; someone has to get to that before something spills onto Kris’ precious snow angel.”
“Cam’s off doing man chores,” Andrew replied with a grin. “She was the only one brave enough to deal with the unpleasant remains of some person’s earlier enthusiasm. Isaac is playing chaperone; he left for awhile to take some of the unfortunate party victims home. He said he’d be back to help straighten up, so here’s hoping no other room in this house is as trashed as the downstairs area.”
“I don’t hear Kris mourning the loss of a broken Christmas ornament, so I guess we’re good,” Tommy remarked. “As soon as I finish what I signed up to do, I’m going to crash and sleep for as long as I please. I do, however, intend to call Adam at six in the morning to wake him up as a form of revenge.”
It took him awhile to unload the contents of his garbage bag into the recycle bin, but the presence of an empty bag only meant that he would have to move on to the next chore. Sighing, he crumpled up the bag and tossed it in the bin Kris had designated for plastic disposables before returning to the living room to see what else he could remedy. A quick scan of his surroundings told him that some disinfecting was in order, so he backtracked into the side hallway where Kradam-‘Adam and Kris’ was so overrated when they were obviously headed for the altar-kept their cleaning supplies. As he was rummaging in the supply closet for things to include in his cleaning arsenal, he heard a muffled, angry-sounding voice coming from outside. Puzzled, Tommy stepped out onto the patio, his chores momentarily forgotten in the wake of finding the source of the sudden noise.
“You can’t just fucking assume things like that, Kate! Are you going to believe a page six insert from a stupid tabloid over what I have to say?”
To state the obvious, the voice belonged to Cale Mills. No one else had a girlfriend named Kate.
Though he and Cale had never been close, Tommy couldn’t help but feel terrible for the guy. It was Christmas Eve, and he was in the midst of what sounded like a terrible fight with his significant other. Feeling like he was intruding on Cale’s privacy, Tommy turned to step back inside the house. This, however, had been interrupted by the sound of Cale throwing his phone against the tree trunk. Somewhat concerned, Tommy made his way down the patio steps and into the yard, grabbing Cale by the wrist before he ended up hurting himself in an attempt to have one-on-one combat with a tree.
“Dude, slamming your fist into an oak tree may make you angrier than you already are.”
“What I choose to act my frustrations out on is none of your business, Ratliff,” Cale scowled. “And who told you that you could eavesdrop on what was obviously a private conversation, anyway?”
“For your information, I wasn’t eavesdropping,” Tommy huffed. “I just happened to overhear your angry caveman grunts while I was raiding the supply closet for cleaning materials. Now, seeing as you don’t seem to want to nor never probably will want my company, I’m just going to go and leave you to your lonesome. Jesus Christ, what the fuck did I ever do to you, anyway?”
As soon as he turned his back on Cale, he felt a hand tug at his wrist, keeping him in place.
“What the fuck?” he whirled around angrily. “I have no intentions of being your punching bag, if that’s what you’re thinking. If you don’t have anything important to say, let me go.”
“Do you want to know why I seem to dislike you so much?”
“Now you ask me that?” Tommy asked incredulously, a nasty laugh escaping his throat. “It’s been three years, Cale; three fucking long years of us playing this lameass cat-and-mouse game. Do you think I’m still interested to find out at this point?”
“I know those eyes, Ratliff,” Cale said darkly. “You’re curious, but you just pretend not to be so people will leave you alone. That’s why you’re always wearing your poker face, aren’t you? You’re determined to keep that mysterious aura hanging over your head so people will never be able to figure you out.”
Tommy bristled. What was it with this guy and his habit of kicking Tommy where it actually hurt?
“Fine,” he said evenly, blowing out a frustrated breath that made his bangs fly up from his face. “Let’s say you’re right about me being curious; let’s say I actually want to listen. So, come on, speak up.”
He yelped in surprise as Cale backed him up against the oak tree, pinning him effectively by planting his palm on Tommy’s chest-gentle enough as not to bruise, but hard enough to sustain his hold. He slid his thigh in between Tommy’s legs, rubbing carefully at Tommy’s groin.
“You have no fucking idea what you to do me, Thomas Joseph Ratliff,” Cale murmured, his voice low and husky. “Ever since that stupid kiss from the AMAs, your face just wouldn’t leave my mind. Your very existence was fucking with my head; I wasn’t supposed to want you. I was in a long-term relationship with the girl I’ve loved since I was in high school, but I couldn’t keep myself away from you. Whenever I needed a quick release, I would just pull up one of those Glam Nation videos with you jacking your bass and letting Adam have his way with you and go to town with my fantasies. Sex with Kate wasn’t even enough for me anymore. As soon as she would fall asleep, I’d jack myself off in the bathroom, imagining your mouth around my cock. I can never want her the way I will always want you.”
Tommy felt his face heat up in embarrassment as a soft whimper escaped his lips. He wasn’t supposed to be turned on by this; he wasn’t supposed to feel even a sliver of lust for a man who had spent all of three years either ignoring him or making jabs at him whenever they were in the same room together. Some time ago, Adam had brought up the warped concept of sexuality that most people seemed to have been born with. They had been going over the tweets concerning the “Fever” kiss, and Adam had thrown in a casual remark brought upon by amusement. He mentioned something about how insignificant orientation was in a romantic relationship because he believed that every person was born desiring a trait or a quality that could only be found in one in a million people. When Monte had asked whether it was a conscious or an unconscious thing, Adam shrugged and said it could be either. Tommy had difficulty understanding what Adam had been trying to say at that time, but he understood it quite well now.
The fact that Cale Mills had harbored nearly three years’ worth of sexual desires for him was more than enough to knock him dead. The fact that his body was responding so obscenely to Cale’s words made him want to crawl down the rabbit hole and never come back out.
“…so, how badly do you want me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“The world is made of ivory and gold,” Cale recited softly, running a thumb over one of Tommy’s cheekbones. “The curves of your lips rewrite history.”
Tommy closed his eyes in supplication the moment Cale’s lips brushed over his. It was like Velvet Goldmine all over again, only this time, he was Brian Slade.
And unlike the movie, there were no flashbulbs to interrupt them as they kissed under the falling snow.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tommy had never curled up in post-coital bliss with a man before. Over the course of time, he had gotten used to playing the role of the big spoon, his hands splayed over breasts and the soft curves of a woman’s body. He knew little of what to make of his current position-head resting on Cale’s chest, hands clumsily yet tenderly mapping the ridges and hard muscle of his torso. Cale was watching him closely; a fond little grin on his face as he wound him arms around Tommy’s slender form.
“Well played, Tommy Joe.”
“Is this your way of complimenting my bottoming skills?” Tommy asked with a smirk, playfully biting at one of Cale’s nipples. “I think I kind of suck at it, though; it is my first time and all.”
“Well, practice makes perfect,” Cale cocked his head.
Tommy stared at him for a few moments, wondering if Cale had the slightest idea of the implications his statement could have. According to Tommy’s post-sex level of comprehension, it was an invitation to more fuck sessions and maybe a dinner date or two.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Cale sighed, peppering Tommy’s face with kisses. “I’m going to talk to Kate as soon as I can; I need to tell her that it really is over between us.”
“Don’t you want to think about this a little longer?” Tommy asked softly. “You’ve had her for years, man; I’m not sure if it’s wise to trade her in for someone you spent one night with.”
“Listen to me, babe,” Cale ran a hand over his bare hip, curling it around Tommy’s waist to pull him close. “True love knows no expiration dates. If she and I were really meant to be together, we’d probably be married with children right now. As Kris once told me, he couldn’t imagine having that kind of a life with Katy; I feel the same way about Kate.”
“So, are you saying you can imagine raising tiny blond babies with me?”
“Kind of, yeah,” Cale said happily, nosing his way into Tommy’s hair.
“That’s retarded,” Tommy mumbled, hiding his smile in Cale’s shoulder. “But seriously speaking, I’m…I’m happy, Cale. No one has ever been willing to give up this much for me before-not to mention I have never ended up in bed with a Southern gentleman who was sweet enough to watch Velvet Goldmine so he could perhaps be my Curt Wild.”
“Think of it as a Christmas present of some sort. Who knows, maybe Curt Wild and Brian Slade will actually have a happy ending this time.”
Tommy sighed as Cale curled himself tighter around him, limbs and arms tangling in threads of milky white and golden brown. As Tommy’s eyes began to flutter closed, he whispered the words that would very well mark the beginning of their story; he etched them into Cale’s flesh with his tongue and his hands, creating a memory that would stand the test of time.
“For once, there was an unknown land, full of strange flowers and subtle perfumes; a land of which it is joy of all joys to dream; a land where all things are perfect and poisonous…”