Drive You 'til You Feel the Daylight: One
"The thing is," says Adam, halfway through the tour. "The thing is, it’s like the worst blue balls ever, right? I need to get fucking laid. Aren't you guys desperate to get laid?"
The question hangs in the air like a big pink cloud, and there is the distinct sound of everybody in the room very carefully and deliberately not looking at Tommy.
"Denial is good for the soul," says Tommy brightly, and Sasha gives a shrill, helpless little giggle.
&&&&&
He doesn't mean for it to happen. In fact, a couple of days before the tour starts, he propositions Adam, because he figures if he's going to be rubbing all over him like a cat in heat for a few months he may as well take the opportunity to experiment with gay sex, right? And who better than Adam, who is astonishingly hot for a dude who wears sparkly zebra-print pants unironically, and also a total fucking sweetheart, and is undoubtedly very good at gay sex.
But Adam reacts with a panicked rejection that might be kind of insulting except that he’s obviously really upset and a lot tempted. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do that," he says, with actual, like, tears in his eyes. "You don't owe me anything, Tommy, especially not that." He looks so miserably earnest that Tommy doesn't even try to explain, just hugs him, because Adam gives awesome hugs. He resolves to find a better moment to raise the issue, and also maybe a better opening line than "So, you wanna fuck me, right?"
So they head off on tour, and it's insane, fucking intense, like nothing that's ever happened to Tommy before. He's been performing his whole life, but it's never, ever been like this, like when Adam slings an arm around him and the audience screams his name and Tommy can't help rubbing up against him to make it happen again. He feels totally alive, buzzed like he could go forever, but he only goes about a week before he hits the wall, passes out and wakes up sprawled across the couch in the bus feeling like reheated ass. The bus is still, parked, and daylight coming in the windows, and something banging in the bunk section, and Tommy stretches lazily and considers going and getting some food.
"Fuck!" Sasha snarls, storming out of the bunks. "Motherfucking - oh, hi Tommy." She looks vaguely embarrassed, thumps the wall with a hollow noise. "You feeling better?"
"Mmm." He smiles up at her. "S'matter?"
She chokes out a little laugh, and drops onto the couch, shoving his legs to make room. "I left my goddamned vibrator at the hotel." She covers her face, but she's grinning, helpless. "This is going to be the longest three months of my life."
Tommy can't help it; he laughs, and keeps laughing even when she hits him with a cushion. "Aw, sweetie. That's fucking tragic, really." She moans a little, dramatically, and he pokes her with his toe. "Let me know if you get desperate, I'm happy to help." He sticks out his tongue and waggles his eyebrows to make her laugh, and she does.
"Oh, fuck, don't," she giggles. "It's been that fucking long since I had anyone do that. Shit, I can't believe I just told you that." She's all pink, can't quite meet his eyes.
"Now that is a fucking tragedy," he declares. "I would go down on you any day of the week, no joke. I love that shit." The bus still feels like I'ts moving, weirdly, and she's staring at him, wide-eyed.
"Fucking hell, Tommy." She wipes a hand over her face, flustered. "If that's a serious offer," she breaks off, staring at his mouth.
What the hell, though. He rolls off the couch and winces as his knees hit the floor, and Sasha squeaks a little, slumping back in her seat until her hips are right at the edge of the couch. "I had this girlfriend once," he tells her, shuffling closer. He grabs a cushion, because the floor's hard. "She had, I dunno, issues or something. Sex wasn't fun, and it was hard for her to get going, but she was an awesome chick, you know?" Sasha's breathing hard, and he runs his hands up her calves, asking permission. Her knees fall open without any urging, and he slides his fingers up under her frilly little skirt. "But it was worth it, all the effort. I'd go down on her for fucking hours, man, and when I was done, the way she looked, you have no idea." He hooks his fingers into her panties and pulls them down, grins up at her. "I fucking love this."
She makes this desperate, breathy noise when he gets his mouth on her, and he lays straight in, not starting off slow or shy, goes right for the prize. He sucks hard on her clit, licks at the gathering wetness, slides a couple of fingers up inside. He knows damn well that he's good at this, and it's only a few minutes until she's squirming and grabbing at him, flexing around his fingers with her heels scrabbling and pushing at the floor.
She arches up when she comes, her whole body a gorgeous arc, and he urges her through it despite his eyes watering from how she's yanking his hair. It's a thrill even now, to see her looking all sweaty and sated and somewhat stunned, and think I did that. Fucking awesome. He pats her thigh and staggers to his feet, ducks into the tiny bathroom to wash his face, and comes back with a clean washcloth and a glass of water, sits patiently while she collects herself.
"Fucking hell, Tommy," she says, flailing her arms a little, and he nods.
"I know, I'm awesome." He grabs her panties off the floor and passes them back to her, and she blushes as she quickly cleans herself up and slides them on. He grins when their gazes connect, and she laughs, a little shyly.
"Do you need me to, uh?" She waves a hand in his general direction, eyes dropping, but he shakes his head, presses the heel of his hand to his groin.
"Nah, I'm gonna sit with this a while. Where are the others?"
"Getting food." She blushes again. "Uh, they'll be back soon, we have another couple of hours to go. I wasn't hungry, I get sick on the bus."
"Awesome, I'm starving," he says, but before he can find his shoes, the door opens and Longineu lumbers in, grunting what might be a greeting. Outside, they can hear Lane calling for everyone to get back on the bus because they are leaving right now, and Tommy falls back on the couch with a faint thwarted cry of hunger as the rest of the crew pile on the bus.
Adam is last, having apparently encountered some fans at whatever backwater fast food joint they stopped at. He has a Sharpie behind his ear and the remains of a strained smile on his face, and he stops next to Tommy and ruffles his hair.
"You feeling better, baby?" he asks, and Tommy smiles up at him.
"A million bucks."
"Guess you don't need this then?" Adam drops a takeout bag in his lap, still hot and noticeably burrito shaped. Tommy practically squeals with delight.
"I love you, you're my favorite," he declares, hugging the only part of Adam he can reach, which is his thigh. Adam pets his hair fondly, scratching behind his ear, and manages somehow not to fall on him when the bus starts moving.
&&&&&
Tommy thinks that's probably the end of it, that warm afternoon in the empty bus, but they have a hotel night not long after, one without a show so they've actually got time off, and everybody settles in for some serious communion with beds that don't move. Tommy joins Adam in his room and they watch Labyrinth, their old standby for they're too tired to be bothered with anything new. Adam drops off to sleep right around the trippy scene with the ballroom in the tacky paperweight, when Tommy turns to him to suggest that they incorporate some cool masks into their costumes. His face is softened in sleep, freckled and relaxed, dark hair sticking up in all directions. Tommy smiles fondly and turns the volume down, pulls a blanket over Adam and watches the rest of the movie with the dialogue only a memory.
He's on his way back to his room when he remembers that he's still got Brooke's ipod, which she'd stuck into his pocket when she went to wade in a fountain with Terrance earlier, so he retrieves it from his room and heads up towards hers. He can hear giggling behind the door, which gets abruptly louder when he knocks, and when Brooke opens to door it becomes extremely clear that he's interrupted something. On the wide bed behind her are Sasha, Cam, Liz and Val from Allison's band, and many tiny bottles of alcohol. Sasha gasps when she sees him and hides her face to another round of giggles, so Tommy gets a fair idea of whats going on.
"Bragging?" he asks. "Yeah, I would be too."
Sasha throws a pillow at him. "They don't fucking believe me," she giggles.
Tommy clutches his chest. "I'm hurt, girls, truly hurt. I give fucking amazing head."
"I'd believe it," says Liz, bouncing a little on her heels. She's tiny and dark-haired and obviously not wearing underwear, and Tommy helplessly tracks the movement of her breasts as they jiggle. "Look at him, of course he's incredible at it." Her gaze is frankly assessing, and Tommy smiles at her as he leans on the doorframe.
"Want a ride?" he asks, and ducks the empty cup which goes sailing past his head. "Why's everyone throwing stuff at me?"
"Such a line," Cam says, hiding her eyes. "Such a boy."
"Well, we have to settle the debate somehow," says Liz, and she sounds so casual it takes Tommy a couple of seconds to realize what shes said.
Brooke groans. "I'm surrounded by total perverts," she complains, and drags Tommy inside, shutting the door behind him.
"Uh," says Tommy, but Liz is already taking off her sweatpants. "With an audience, huh?"
"You don't get stage fright, do you?" she asks directly, thumbs hooked in her underwear, and he bristles.
"Lets do this." Cam and Sasha scramble out of the way as he backs her up against the bed and drops her against the pillows with a hand at her waist, dark hair all spread and long pale legs. He crawls onto the mattress after her, presses her legs open, settles down. She's still wearing panties, but that's okay, he's not in a hurry. She's got his back up, he's got something to prove, wants to put on a show, so he presses his mouth against the cotton and lets the heat of it sink through the fabric, licks until it gets damp and clinging and Liz wriggles impatiently and shoves at him.
"Can't rush art, sweetheart," he says, and she yanks on his ear. He can hear somebody giggling nervously, over his shoulder, and shifts his weight backward so he can strip Liz down and get down to business.
He fucks around a bit, just because he can, teases her with light little flicks of his tongue and not nearly enough pressure until she's writhing and swearing and frustrated. Its a good thing he's never minded having his hair pulled, because she's really direct about what she wants, but when she nearly kicks him in the kidneys, he pinches her thigh, pins her hips to the mattress and buries his face in the warm wet heat of her. She actually shrieks, clutches at him and struggles to buck her hips up, but he holds her down and licks into her, presses the flat of his teeth gently against her clit and then his tongue, alternating between that and sucking gently. She's completely feral and he daren't let her go without risking a broken nose, so he's just working with his mouth. But it turns out that's enough, and she's messy when she comes, smearing all slick and shiny across his face and down his chin.
He pulls away when she whimpers and bats at him, rolls onto his back with his hair spilling over her thigh. "So you know," he says to the ceiling. "I am always available for a bit of light stress relief."
Cam's face appears in his field of vision. "I don't like boys that way," she points out.
He pulls her hair gently. "Me either, but I wouldn't turn down a blowjob from a friend."
She laughs a little disbelievingly and shakes her head, petting his hair.
&&&&&
And in any reasonable universe that would absolutely be the end of it, a drunken hookup that's a little more public than he usually goes for, except the next day Brooke corners him before he can leave the bus and says "Look, I really love my fiancé, okay?" and he goes to his knees then and there and it's only sheer luck that nobody else sees him hitch her up onto the tiny sink behind the tiny bathroom and wrap her fucking amazing thighs around his head. She's quiet, little choked noises and the sharp flexing of her body the only clue aside from the blunt taste of her on his tongue.
She's sweet as pie after, kisses his cheek and never mind the mess, wraps her arms around him and cuddles him a bit. "I really do," she says, a bit breathless and swaying.
"I know, sweetie," he says, his cheek against her gorgeous hair. "It's okay."
"You're fucking good at that," she mumbles, and he laughs, a little dizzy, and says "I think I'm going to get a fair bit of practice."
And because his life is unbelievably amazing, he turns out to be right.
Sasha starts lingering pointedly in doorways, and Brooke turns up in odd corners of rehearsal and Tommy was apparently very good in a past life because Liz turns out to be completely insatiable and a total fucking exhibitionist, and takes to accosting him at really inconvenient times. She grabs him as she's coming offstage once and he's standing in the wings waiting to go on, and he shoves his whole hand down into her jeans and gets her off in about thirty seconds flat, two inches away from being visible to the six thousand screaming fans in the audience, not even bothering to hide from Cam, who just raises her eyebrow and looks away. Theres nothing to clean up with after, and he has to lick his wet hand clean as he stumbles onto the stage, and when Adam grabs him by the neck and nuzzles his cheek during the opening to Fever, he nearly goes blind with the thought that Adam can probably smell her on him and has no idea.
If Liz is a wildcat, then Sasha's his sunshine girl, all smiles and laughter. She pets his hair fondly and rubs her fingers over his mouth when he's done, and she laughs sometimes when she comes without a trace of self-consciousness, like it makes her so happy. She only offers once more to return the favor, and he bites her on the soft skin of her thigh and shoves her back down the couch in the back room of the venue and makes her come again until she's got a fist shoved in her mouth to muffle the sounds. She doesn't say it after that, but the offer's still there, he knows, she would if he asked, but he won't.
He can't shake the thought that it would ruin it, this thing. He likes going down on girls, on these girls, loves that they come to him when they're stressed and tired and when he's done they're all blissed out. He loves the smell of them and the taste of them, how dirty it is to go from snarling Liz to sweet Brooke without a break, tasting both at the same time.
&&&&&
"Sasha says you don't ask her to do anything."
Cam's stretched out on the top bunk, curtain pulled so only her head and shoulders are showing. Her gaze is sleepily curious, and Tommy shoves his jeans back in his bag, search for his wallet forgotten. "Yeah, I guess."
She frowns. "How come? Guys don't do that. Guys always want stuff."
He rests his elbows on the edge of the bunk. "You're a lesbian, honey. How would you know what guys want?"
Her expression goes withering. "Oh, you're not really a lesbian baby, you just haven't found the right cock yet, come here and I'll show you what a real man can do for you, how about you bring your girlfriend as well, just let me watch."
"Uh-huh." He watches the bitterness in her face. "Guys are assholes, it's true."
She doesn't say anything, just looks at him quietly, like a challenge. He shrugs, unable to quite find words for the line he's drawn, even inside his own head. "I want you guys to feel good, you know? I hug you when you're tired, and I braid your hair, and I bring you coffee, because I'ts a nice thing I can do that make the days go a bit better."
"So cunnilingus is your contribution to crew morale?"
He smiles shyly and licks his lips, notices the way she tracks the movement. "Sure. I also really just like it. Girls are pretty."
She laughs a little, the lines of tension easing out of her face. "You're a weird one, Tommy Joe."
He kisses his fingertips and touches them to her nose. "You love it, don't front."
She flops onto her back, one foot poking out from behind the curtain. "I'm just having a bit of trouble wrapping my head around it."
He rests his chin on the edge of the thin mattress. "Cammy, it's not compulsory. If you don't me want me to, I won't. I'll even try make sure Liz doesn't grab me when you're around, if you don't want to see. I promise I won't be offended."
She shuts her eyes, face turned to the ceiling. "And if I do want you to?" she says, low. She's blushing.
"You can do my nails tonight, if you want to feel like it's a trade." He pushes the curtain back. She's just wearing an over-long tshirt to sleep in, and when he skims his fingers up her pale thigh, she's not wearing underwear. "Cammy. Cammy, you sleep like this? On a bus full of boys?"
She shakes her head, not opening her eyes. "Just this morning. Wanted, uh." She breaks off as he tugs on her ankle, pulling her so she's right at the edge of the bunk with her hips a little turned and open. The bunk is the perfect height, a convenient chin-height on him, and he makes a note that maybe Cam's love of sleeping perched up high like some suicidal monkey is not so crazy after all.
She's wet already, which makes him smile, like she's been lying up here on her little bunk getting all worked up thinking about it. He touches his fingertips to her and she opens up so easily, inhales sharply. "You just wanted," he says. "Right now? I'm supposed to be at breakfast."
"Stole your wallet," she confesses breathlessly. "You can have it back when we're done."
"Camilla, you budding mastermind," he laughs. "I'm impressed."
She hooks an ankle at the back of his neck. "Would you please quit fucking around?" she whines, and he does.
She's noisy and wonderful, pulls his hair and gasps out apologies, bucks her hips up and he has to wrap an arm around her so she doesn't come tumbling down off the narrow bunk.
Her swinging heels jabs him repeatedly in the kidneys and he doesn't care, shoves her legs further apart and eats at her until she's keening and breathless.
She's sleepy when she's done, and he cleans her up and pulls down her nightshirt and tucks her back into her bunk while she mumbles distractedly and ruffles his hair.
"You want me to bring you back some breakfast?" he asks, and she rouses with a sigh.
"Coffee?" she requests, and he taps her nose.
"Anything for my girl. Pass me my wallet?" She retrieves his wallet sheepishly from under her pillow, and he blows her a kiss and heads out to the diner for food.
Adam scolds him playfully for his tardiness, but Sasha and Brooke take one look at him and have to go and giggle over by the free coffee refills for a little while.
Master Post
Girls Boys Everyone Aftermath Adam Tommy