will melt your popsicle
dedicated to my MUSE starsparkle333 ♥ who gave me the idea while tweeting innuendo at me earlier today. title from Katy Perry's song California Gurls.
will melt your popsicle
Adam/Tommy, 900 words, PG-13
Adam and Tommy share a treat.
Disclaimer: I do not know any of the people depicted herein and mean no harm by the writing and posting of this piece of fiction.
Not even bothering to open his eyes, Tommy makes a vague waving gesture when the girls say something about checking out the snack cart they’d passed earlier. Ice-cream sounds amazing right now, but he’s just settled into the perfect spot: there’s no grass crawling down his neck, his body is sprawled out in the sun, and the shadow of the tree nearby is shading his face. He knows he can’t stay long, damn pasty skin, so he’s intent on enjoying it while he can.
Right around the time he should be scooting back into the shade, a bare foot nudges his leg. He smiles, remembering Cabo sunshine and sand spraying through the air. A well-timed yawn has him arching his back and stretching, eyes still closed.
It gets a laugh. “You really are a cat, aren’t you?” chuckles Adam, settling down on the grass next to him.
“You love it,” Tommy murmurs, cracking an eye open. Adam is holding a bright orange popsicle, the kind with two sticks. “Oh, the girls were gonna get those.”
“Yeah, I passed them. They told me you were too lazy to go with them.” Adam ruffles his hair. Tommy’s too limb-heavy to do more than raise an eyebrow. “What kind of gentleman leaves ladies wandering around by themselves?”
Tommy rolls his eyes, and fixes his gaze on the popsicle. Adam wordlessly breaks it in half. “If they’re attacked by ducks, I’m sure Liz can chase them off.”
Adam makes as if to hand the popsicle to Tommy, but pulls back when Tommy reaches for it. “Oh hey, get out of the sun first. Just because Sutan isn’t around doesn’t mean you won’t get your ass kicked for getting sunburn.”
Tommy groans. “Do you ever turn the bossiness off?”
“You love it,” Adam counters. He shuffles closer to the tree and holds the popsicle - shiny and starting to melt, now - where Tommy would have to be in the shade to get it.
Fucker. Tommy reluctantly hauls himself up to his knees. He smirks, getting an idea. Locking his gaze with Adam’s, he slinks forward on all fours, letting his bangs fall forward to cover one eye. He crawls right up to the popsicle, opens his mouth, and - not taking his eyes off Adam’s - takes the long, sticky, icy length as far down his throat as he can.
After the day’s heat, the sharp orange-flavored burst of cold in his mouth pulls out a moan. The ice is still pretty hard, but chunks of it crunch up and scrape off in his mouth. He pulls off, looks down; Adam’s hand, holding the popsicle, wobbles a bit. Tommy bends down and licks a slow, deliberate line up the length of the treat, then takes it into his mouth again.
It’s probably a combination of the outdoor heat, the hangover-like feeling of coming down after an intense concert, and frozen sugar, but Tommy starts to feel light-headed, hears a gentle rushing in his ears.
He pauses with his lips around the tip, feeling the sticky melted juice around his mouth. Meets Adam’s gaze again. His swallows, seeing the look on Adam’s face: dark, heavy, full of intent. Tommy brings up his hand, cups Adam’s fingers around the popsicle stick, and encourages him to push up, sliding the popsicle back into Tommy’s mouth.
Adam’s lips part, a soft gasp escaping him. Tommy drops his hand once he sees that Adam’s got the right idea. The popsicle is rough against the skin of his lips, scraping back and forth, and he’s pretty sure that there’s drool mixed in with the melted juice dripping down to Adam’s hand, but he can’t quite make himself stop, not when Adam’s looking at him like that.
Too soon, the icy bar starts to crumble and whole chunks are left in his mouth. Tommy pulls off, smacking his lips to get the feeling back in them. He looks at Adam again, and Adam is just outright staring at his lips. Tommy doesn’t even think about it, he ducks his head and licks at the stickiness between Adam’s fingers. He huffs out a breath, tasting salt and sweet and skin-
“Tommy.”
The way Adam says it, all breathy and strangled, doesn’t exactly communicate stop, but Tommy draws back. He doesn’t know who started this one-upmanship thing between them; most of the time, it’s like they just can’t help themselves. But it’s good, it’s fun, it keeps things interesting. Except now there’s something else, an energy that’s been growing without them realizing. These days, Tommy feels like his skin is prickling with it whenever he’s close to Adam.
Judging from the way Adam’s breathing has changed, his pupils too large and dark for a bright afternoon, Tommy’s sure Adam gets it, too.
He slowly takes the stick from Adam’s hand, careful not to shake off the remaining pieces of popsicle still clinging on. “Thanks for sharing,” he says, ignoring the way his voice isn’t so level either. “You should eat your popsicle before it melts.”
Adam blinks a few times, and looks at the half-popsicle in his other hand like he’d forgotten it was there. He raises it to his lips, flicks a glance towards Tommy, and - does a really obscene thing with his tongue that has Tommy nearly gaping, heat flaring in his body.
“We should go back to the bus before the others do,” says Adam casually, before sucking on the base of the popsicle. Very enthusiastically, with a lot of tongue involved. “Everyone’s out today. The buses will be deserted.”
Tommy’s on his feet in an instant. “Right, let’s go.”
will melt your popsicle
Adam/Tommy, 900 words, PG-13
Adam and Tommy share a treat.
Disclaimer: I do not know any of the people depicted herein and mean no harm by the writing and posting of this piece of fiction.
Not even bothering to open his eyes, Tommy makes a vague waving gesture when the girls say something about checking out the snack cart they’d passed earlier. Ice-cream sounds amazing right now, but he’s just settled into the perfect spot: there’s no grass crawling down his neck, his body is sprawled out in the sun, and the shadow of the tree nearby is shading his face. He knows he can’t stay long, damn pasty skin, so he’s intent on enjoying it while he can.
Right around the time he should be scooting back into the shade, a bare foot nudges his leg. He smiles, remembering Cabo sunshine and sand spraying through the air. A well-timed yawn has him arching his back and stretching, eyes still closed.
It gets a laugh. “You really are a cat, aren’t you?” chuckles Adam, settling down on the grass next to him.
“You love it,” Tommy murmurs, cracking an eye open. Adam is holding a bright orange popsicle, the kind with two sticks. “Oh, the girls were gonna get those.”
“Yeah, I passed them. They told me you were too lazy to go with them.” Adam ruffles his hair. Tommy’s too limb-heavy to do more than raise an eyebrow. “What kind of gentleman leaves ladies wandering around by themselves?”
Tommy rolls his eyes, and fixes his gaze on the popsicle. Adam wordlessly breaks it in half. “If they’re attacked by ducks, I’m sure Liz can chase them off.”
Adam makes as if to hand the popsicle to Tommy, but pulls back when Tommy reaches for it. “Oh hey, get out of the sun first. Just because Sutan isn’t around doesn’t mean you won’t get your ass kicked for getting sunburn.”
Tommy groans. “Do you ever turn the bossiness off?”
“You love it,” Adam counters. He shuffles closer to the tree and holds the popsicle - shiny and starting to melt, now - where Tommy would have to be in the shade to get it.
Fucker. Tommy reluctantly hauls himself up to his knees. He smirks, getting an idea. Locking his gaze with Adam’s, he slinks forward on all fours, letting his bangs fall forward to cover one eye. He crawls right up to the popsicle, opens his mouth, and - not taking his eyes off Adam’s - takes the long, sticky, icy length as far down his throat as he can.
After the day’s heat, the sharp orange-flavored burst of cold in his mouth pulls out a moan. The ice is still pretty hard, but chunks of it crunch up and scrape off in his mouth. He pulls off, looks down; Adam’s hand, holding the popsicle, wobbles a bit. Tommy bends down and licks a slow, deliberate line up the length of the treat, then takes it into his mouth again.
It’s probably a combination of the outdoor heat, the hangover-like feeling of coming down after an intense concert, and frozen sugar, but Tommy starts to feel light-headed, hears a gentle rushing in his ears.
He pauses with his lips around the tip, feeling the sticky melted juice around his mouth. Meets Adam’s gaze again. His swallows, seeing the look on Adam’s face: dark, heavy, full of intent. Tommy brings up his hand, cups Adam’s fingers around the popsicle stick, and encourages him to push up, sliding the popsicle back into Tommy’s mouth.
Adam’s lips part, a soft gasp escaping him. Tommy drops his hand once he sees that Adam’s got the right idea. The popsicle is rough against the skin of his lips, scraping back and forth, and he’s pretty sure that there’s drool mixed in with the melted juice dripping down to Adam’s hand, but he can’t quite make himself stop, not when Adam’s looking at him like that.
Too soon, the icy bar starts to crumble and whole chunks are left in his mouth. Tommy pulls off, smacking his lips to get the feeling back in them. He looks at Adam again, and Adam is just outright staring at his lips. Tommy doesn’t even think about it, he ducks his head and licks at the stickiness between Adam’s fingers. He huffs out a breath, tasting salt and sweet and skin-
“Tommy.”
The way Adam says it, all breathy and strangled, doesn’t exactly communicate stop, but Tommy draws back. He doesn’t know who started this one-upmanship thing between them; most of the time, it’s like they just can’t help themselves. But it’s good, it’s fun, it keeps things interesting. Except now there’s something else, an energy that’s been growing without them realizing. These days, Tommy feels like his skin is prickling with it whenever he’s close to Adam.
Judging from the way Adam’s breathing has changed, his pupils too large and dark for a bright afternoon, Tommy’s sure Adam gets it, too.
He slowly takes the stick from Adam’s hand, careful not to shake off the remaining pieces of popsicle still clinging on. “Thanks for sharing,” he says, ignoring the way his voice isn’t so level either. “You should eat your popsicle before it melts.”
Adam blinks a few times, and looks at the half-popsicle in his other hand like he’d forgotten it was there. He raises it to his lips, flicks a glance towards Tommy, and - does a really obscene thing with his tongue that has Tommy nearly gaping, heat flaring in his body.
“We should go back to the bus before the others do,” says Adam casually, before sucking on the base of the popsicle. Very enthusiastically, with a lot of tongue involved. “Everyone’s out today. The buses will be deserted.”
Tommy’s on his feet in an instant. “Right, let’s go.”