FIC: The Game - Part 1
Title: The Game
Author: ragman_rip
Pairing(s): Adam/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Extreme violence, language, prostitution, gunplay, object insertion, some gore, angst, non-con (once).
Word count: 24,570 (not including Spanish and Portuguese translations at the end).
Summary: Adam Lambert needs a vacation between the U.S. Glam Nation tour, and the European/Asian leg of the tour. Lane sends him to Rio de Janeiro to relax, but a fresh new sense of adventure leads Adam away from the cozy hotel and his beach plans. Embarking on an exotic sex fantasy, he gets a lot more than he paid for when he meets a young Brazilian man on the run from dangerous enemies.
Disclaimer: While I invented the OMC, Adam Lambert (or any of his mentioned or featured friends) does not belong to me, and this is utterly a work of fiction. Also, I adore Adam, so I’m not out to “do terrible things” to him in any way. It’s just an adventure tale with a few dark corners, for your entertainment. Not making a dime off of it, either. Please don’t repost in other places without permission, or tweet it to him (yikes). Thanks.
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A/N: BIG thanks to my betas, @AuntieMaim, @Ranmaru_san, and @Flynnsgirl; this would have been real hard to read without them! Any mistakes that remain are my own.
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Glaring light beat down on his oversized sunglasses the moment Adam left the airport. A heat intense enough to snatch the breath from parched lips enveloped his body, sweat mixing with dust and sand carried on the stifling breeze. For once, as droplets trickled down his chest and back, he didn't recoil from the slick, gritty feel of it.
Clutching his forgotten bottle of coconut water, he whispered, “Finally, something real.”
“Sir?”
People bustled around him, unleashed by Lane’s long distance orders. Suppressing a sigh, Adam turned to the porter. “Yes?”
“Your car is ready, sir. May I take your bag?”
“I’ll keep this, thank you.” Holding tighter to the small black leather satchel, he got into the back of the waiting limousine.
As the car pulled into traffic, the city and scenery instantly captivated him. The majestic Sugarloaf and Corcovado mountains dominated the scene, but what drew his gaze more were the hills blanketed in ramshackle dwellings and the awesome spread of the glittering turquoise sea. Rio was everything Lane had promised; though it was still a compromise - starting with the resort hotel they were taking him to.
As a frown slanted his mouth, a building ahead caught his eye. “What’s that? Driver, stop! Go there!”
“Sir? That is not your hotel.”
“It is now. Change of plans,” he added, flashing a melting smile at the man’s worried scowl. “Humor me,” he said when neither the scowl nor the car stopped. His voice had an edge to it, one people who were not Lane never ignored.
“Yes, sir.”
Adam sat forward on the seat, eager to see the natural charm of the seashell pink and orange hotel he was tossing a $1,200 per night suite over for. It looked like Zagat’s would have run away before they could rate it.
“Perfect. I’m staying here.”
The lobby doors were propped open and ceiling fans moved the heat in lazy circles. One long counter dominated the pink room, with sparse white wicker furniture for guests and not a television in sight.
He loved the timeless look of it, the absence of modern things that normally overwhelmed a person. It was so charming and inviting that he wasn’t even worried about abruptly trivial things like a decent Wi-Fi signal.
The counter was polished and worn wood, bare except for a collection of flyers, tourist brochures and business cards that were scattered on one end, knocked out of their neat piles.
A tiny ancient man behind the counter smiled at him so brightly that Adam couldn’t stop a similar grin from stretching his lips wide. He approached as the circus of driver and porter brought in his pair of bags as if they were moving furniture for a king.
“Good morning. I’m sorry, but do you speak English?”
“Yes, sir. Room?”
“Please, yes. Thank you. It’s so quiet here, I love it already.”
“Ocean?”
“Pardon?”
“Room, ocean side? Balcony?”
Adam beamed at him. “Brilliant, yes.”
Pulling out a dusty ledger, the clerk adjusted half-moon glasses on a thin dark nose. “Name?”
“Oh, ah... Sam, Samuel Green.” When the clerk merely wrote the pseudonym down without a hint of recognition, Adam grinned at the still-scowling driver and gave him a wink.
“How many nights?”
“Three.”
Quoting a tiny fraction of the cost of one night in Lane’s chosen resort, the clerk asked for cash.
Adam traded a few bills for an actual metal key that had the number 333 stamped in faded gold on a pink plastic rectangle. Where key cards fear to tread, he thought. “Which way to the room?”
“My grandson will show you. Pablo! 333!”
On impulse, Adam gathered up a few of the cards and brochures; one never knew if something good lurked off the beaten path in a place like this.
Expecting a ragtag child to appear, Adam sucked in a breath when Pablo turned out to be closer to twenty-two and painfully, exotically beautiful.
Dark eyes swept up and down Adam’s body, taking in tight black jeans, damp t-shirt, and designer leather boots with a bold appraisal that made the singer’s dick twitch with interest.
Pablo claimed the bags from the stunned porter and hefted them with an easy strength. “Follow, senior?”
“Right behind you.”
“Sir!”
Adam turned to the driver and porter, handing each of them a tip in folded bills. “Thanks for everything, but you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll call a taxi when I need to leave. Thanks! Oh, and I’ll call Lane and tell her what’s up.” He paused to trade a sly smile with Pablo, and then added, “Eventually.”
***
Breath ragged and drenched in sweat, Adam reached out to spread Pablo’s ass cheeks wider, watching his cock sink to the condom rim inside his body. The long smooth back bowed over his hips as the inaptly named reverse cowgirl position allowed him to lay back and enjoy having his brains fucked out on a slow burn.
He was definitely checking the “excellent customer service” box on the little survey behind the do not disturb sign hanging on the doorknob outside.
“Oh papi, you fuck so good....”
Adam chuckled. “That phrase is going to be a new favorite.”
With a huff of breath, he propped himself up on one elbow and reached around the slender hips to jack the younger man’s hard and leaking dick. After a few more strokes of hand and ass, he gave up trying to time it and just gave in to the heated pressure in his gut. Hips thrusting sharply when he came, he nearly dislodged the guy, losing his grip on his dick entirely.
“Oh, fuck....” Collapsing onto the pillows, he tried to breathe. “Turn around; sit on me again and I’ll suck that off for you.”
“No, no... you’re the guest -”
Wagging a finger at him, Adam smiled. “That doesn’t work for me. I want to suck your dick. Yeah?”
Using his legs to flop him onto his back, Adam struggled up and shifted to lean over him. Wrapping one hand around the base of the pretty thing, he kissed its dusky and shining head, licking all around the ridge.
“Full service, right? You promised. You’ll be finished when I swallow your cum.”
Tanned fingers clutched white sheets as Adam swallowed it down.
***
Adam sat on the wrecked bed with a towel wrapped and tucked around his hips. He sifted idly through the brochures and other paper flotsam he’d dumped in front of him. “Pablo, wait - what’s cool to do here? Besides just fucking all weekend.”
Pablo smiled and paused at the door. His cotton shirt and pants were mostly straightened up, and nothing was on inside out.
“What you want, papi - beach? Hang gliding?”
A slick feeling of dissatisfaction twisted in his gut, unwelcome. “Not tourist stuff; I want adventure. I want something… crazy, wild - sexy.”
“Crazy adventure sex?”
“Yeah.”
Pablo nodded at the pile of papers. “You got a black card there, with red letters? Got dice on it. You like that, try that.”
Hunting for it, Adam asked, “Casino? Not really what I -”
“Not gamble, papi... sex game. You pick a boy, he plays the game you want.”
“Wow, okay, humm....”
Spotting the black card in the pile of pastel colors, he plucked it out to read it. There was no address or any other information; just a phone number. The name of the business was either in Portuguese or Spanish, but a line in English was printed below it.
“‘Rio Fantasy. We make it real.’” Pressing his lips together, his fingers stroked over the dice on the card. “What kind of fantasies?”
“For a guy like you? Anything you want.”
Adam looked up to see that sly smile again. “Sounds better than hang gliding.”
***
“Lane, I’m fine. Are you still in Seattle? There wasn’t anything wrong with the resort. I wanted to see some local color, have an adventure. Singapore? Can’t wait, but you said I needed a stress-popper quickie vaca; you played pin the plane ticket on the singer, I’m relaxing as ordered, right?” Taking a quick swig of bottled coconut water from his luggage, he admitted, “I have something lined up for this evening. An adventure into local color, yeah. It sounds awesome. No, nothing crazy or dangerous; stop worrying. It’s sort of a… club.”
With his minimal couture locked in his luggage, Adam had dressed in his black jeans and worn biker boots. The t-shirt was McQueen, black with a stylized skull on it. In the spirit of low-key, he wore just a little eyeliner and skipped the rest, spending more time working his hair into that perfect messy look.
His wallet, with cash and driver’s license, was chained to his jeans and secured in a back pocket. The iPhone was tucked - on silent - into an inside pocket of his black jacket, along with his room and luggage keys.
The black card was wrapped in a torn piece of hotel notepaper with an address and some kind of code number scrawled across it. Trying not to smear the ink with sweat, he held it pinched in two fingers.
Adam walked out to his balcony and leaned on the metal railing, breathing deeply and loving the exotic smells, good and bad, on the warm breeze. It wasn’t dark yet, and the scenery pierced his heart all over again. Rich and poor were piled on top of each other, beauty and dilapidation mixed perfectly into something truly shocking and wild, something he was hungry to experience for himself.
A car horn sounded below, and he glanced down to see his taxi.
“Here I go.... Thank God Lane didn’t grill me too bad on my entertainment plans. She’d freak out even without details.”
Leaving the balcony and securing the doors, he checked the other inside pocket of his jacket as he went down in the rickety and squealing old elevator. Tucked securely in the pocket, a collection of condoms were wrapped around a small bottle of fancy lube. Patting it, he grinned and waved to the cabbie as he almost trotted out of the lobby.
“Buenos noches, senior,” the old clerk called after him.
“Oh, good night!”
When the cabbie quit smirking at the address he gave and started to head there, Adam leaned back in the seat and tried not to fidget. He felt a buzzing excitement as he watched the street rise into the jumble of ramshackle buildings up the hill; away from the clean, darkening sea.
***
Go to Part 2