DRABBLE MEME: BATCH 4

May 17, 2010 11:26

First, a little challenge. If anyone would like to make a new header for the comm out of some of these new pics, I would love you forever.  Just post them in the comments or message me with it! :) Use any combo of the pics you want, but this one is a requirement:



Also, please spread the word about this fic meme to other people on your friends list that might not know about it so we can keep it alive!

On to the drabbles!

Captain Jack Harkness (Torchwood) - alien, tasty, gigantic by julorean
Sometimes Jack wondered how he got into such situations. He’d found Adam just strolling Cardiff, doing some shopping, and now here he was, being fucked into next week by a glittery alien from the planet Fierce. No really. The fans hadn’t been far off, though the name was actually spelled something more like Ffyras. But anyone with eyes and ears could recognize the otherworldly quality of Adam Lambert’s personage.

But currently the only thing Jack was capable of recognizing was the feeling of Adam’s simply enormous cock pounding into him. The sensations multiplied as they ran into the younger man’s caresses, skin prickling with pleaure-pain as Adam shed sparkle onto Jack’s skin.

He’d known that Adam was only half-Ffyrasin, but that hadn’t prepared for his gigantic amounts of charisma and sensuality. Jack knew a few things about sensuality himself, though he didn’t come with the capacity for smudgeless glittery eye make-up.

“I was wondering when Torchwood was going to come around.”

Displaying the common Ffyrasin quality of great stamina, Adam told Jack his story whilst performing the aforementioned fucking. Mostly because he could. And because they both knew Jack would be pretty useless for anything after.

“So, my mom settled on Earth after years of being ostracized as one of the few inactives. Couldn’t do so much as change the color of a single hair. She loved it here, and met my dad and fell in love. Fast forward a few years, and there’s me. She worried, but I seemed perfectly normal. I was born a redhead, would you believe it?”

Jack moaned. He was prepared to believe anything as long as Adam kept doing that thing right there, oh god, yes yes yes.

Adam paused a moment to admire Jack’s ass again. “Oh, that’s a tasty ass,” he said, giving the firm, rounded muscle a few smacks right on the bite marks he’d left earlier, eliciting some nice gasps from Jack.

“But then one day my hair started coming in completely black. So it looks like it just skipped a generation. Since I’m half-human, I can only change superficial things like hair color and make-up, rather than more physical stuff. It’s worked well for me so far, don’t you think? You don’t even know how handy it is to have eye make-up that doesn’t smudge no matter what happens. Oh, and I can feed off the free energy of the audience a bit too, but don’t worry, it’s one way. No mind control, I just float along with their love and excitement. It’s such a trip!”

A few more thrusts, a little more delightful fondling, and Jack was coming, harder than he had in a while. He could feel Adam’s shudder as his clenching ass wrung out his release.

“You’re welcome to visit planet Fierce every once in a while,” Adam grinned at Jack as he was leaving some time later (he’d somehow forgotten how long it took humans to recover from a fine fierce fucking). “You probably know how to find me.”

“Um, uh yeah, okay,” Jack managed to stammer, and fled from the young sex god. Best to leave that one be, surely. Adam had some power, but was hardly a threat, no more than any very talented human. He’d be good for this staid 21st century society, he thought.

A few months later

Jack swore. He should’ve remembered this about Adam’s species. Their powerful sensuality often defied science. Adam was half-human, so he had thought he’d be fine, but apparently not. That would teach Jack to assume anything, especially about hybrids.

So here he was. Pregnant. Again. At least both the kid’s parents were humanoid this time.

Fuck my life, Jack thought.

Now, you’d think the tale ends there, but then Adam Lambert accidentally’d the space-time continuum through an interesting turn of events involving Jack, the Doctor, and his concert at the Wales Millenium Center. The baby was safely delivered (though he ended up in the year 1947, in Brixton of all places). Jack ended up losing all memories of Adam, though the sex memories remained. Those were indelibly burned into his mind, it was that hot. The Doctor found the nice Jones family to take care of the kid, and life went on.

David Jones was drawn to music, and eventually changed his last name to be reminiscent of a well-known American hunting knife. Jones was much too common a name. It took much hard work and some good luck, but eventually he succeeded. It was frequently speculated that David was not of this world, but really, only a quarter of his DNA wasn’t quite human. He’d one day meet his more otherworldly father, though of course, neither would know their true relation to each other. But seriously, meeting David Bowie was completely and utterly awesome for Adam!


Longineu Parsons* - Adrenaline, beat, wings by Anon
you've been running for so long, but you have no goal, no destination. you remember what happiness felt like, you remember love, and that makes the absence so much worse.

you're covered in blood and bruises, you carry weapons that can kill, hard, sharp steel. your hands have done things your mind can not comprehend.

they said that this was the end of the world, and you don't know why you're still alive. she died, and not in your arms, she was cold and empty when you found her. the streets are covered in ashes, but underneath things are still as they once used to be.

you met another human being not so long ago, the man wanted to kill you, the desperation in his eyes, the insanity in every move. you were quicker and your knife was sharper. there's only one way to survive and that is to kill.

you've gotten used to the harsh cold, to the taste of raw meat.

there's no music anymore and sometimes your head is filled with the beat of drums, but you can't make yourself try to sing. you remember one voice clearly and you wish that he was there to sing, to fill the emptiness with something beautiful.

when he appears before you, you think it's a mirage, a dream, his face too pefect and the wide wings spread out behind him, imposing. he touches you then, hands warm and soft, wiping dirt from your face.

'i was looking for you,' he says, his voice like a thousand choirs and you fall into his arms, lets him pull you close, the wings like protection. his lips against yours taste like music and you think that maybe, this is where you die.

there's no traces of you left when the sun rises.


Sam Clay (The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay) - dreams, California, hope by rosepetalfall (A/N A/N: Please note, for anyone in the process of reading, or planning to read, the book (which everyone should!), there are spoilers!)
Adam knows who Sammy is. He claims he knew from the moment Sam walked in one Thursday afternoon for coffee, but Sammy doubts that. He remembers Adam as the new waiter, all soft hair and freckles and pale, scrutinizing eyes, like he had a secret he'd maybe like to share. Sammy doesn't think anyone could have known some old comic book writer so fast, especially when it had been months since that hearing, but Adam insists he's telling the truth, that the recognition was instantaneous. (Adam does that sometimes, throws around words with multiple syllables in an airy way, and it makes Sammy smile, a little.) But Sammy recognizes the story-teller in the boy. Adam likes toying with the idea of fate and signs and the stars; he likes for threads to line up in just such a way, nice and neat with a bit of a twist, so Sammy doesn’t believe him.

In any case, it takes three more days and five more cups of coffee for Adam to finally ask, because at the end of the day, he was raised a nice, polite Jewish boy who didn’t pester strangers (not immediately anyway).

"Sorry - just, can I ask a question?" Adam hadn't stopped for an answer, setting down Sammy’s toast, looking wide-eyed and young, despite the upright posture and defiant arch to his eyebrows. “You wrote those comic books, didn’t you? The Escapist and all that?”

Sammy believes in new beginnings, but he also knows there are some things you don’t leave behind, no matter how hard you try, so he had just said, “Sure, that was me.”

Glee had painted itself across Adam’s face, in a way that still makes Sammy think of electricity (not lightening though, Sammy tries not to think of lightening at all, if he can manage it) and maybe Tesla.

“My little brother and I, we loved those! Wow, and Luna Moth and the Monitor and Empire City and all that!”

Adam does not look like the kind of boy who would have read comic books.

Well, I was orange-haired and Jewish, in San Diego. And fat. And I only ever wanted to sing. What else was I going to do?

Not many people come to the diner, so sometimes, because he possesses the kind of charm that is, in Sammy’s head, requisite for spies, Adam wheedles the fat, bustling Italian lady-owner into letting him sit down with Sammy. And he talks. Boy, can he talk. He tells Sammy about what it’s like growing up surrounded by sunshine, and what the Pacific tastes like and how he saw Marlon Brando (honestly!) on the street the other day, and how someday everyone across the country will know Adam Lambert’s name, will hear his voice on the radio.

Like Billie Holiday, I swear.

He asks questions, too. He asks about New York and whether Sammy knows the rabbi from the temple three streets down and two blocks over (he does not, and why Adam does, when he doesn’t go to services either, is something of a mystery). He asks about Broadway and meeting Dolores Del Rio (and then asks Sammy to repeat the story again and again) and Orson Welles. He asks about Sammy’s job, doing some things for television ads, and about his writing. Sometimes Adam asks about Tommy, sometimes about Rosa and Joe, with his eyes squinting slightly, his head tilted, like he’s looking out to the horizon, deciphering its lines. (And Sammy answers, though he is not entirely certain why he does.).

He does not ask about the man who was the Escapist. (He does not ask about Tracy Bacon.)

He wants to.

One afternoon, there is rain. The people seem puzzled and somewhat upset, as if the weather were a stranger running through their yard, plucking the pretty flowers. Sammy feels a sort of vague superiority, because this is nothing next to New York in summer. But it has now stopped, and the diner is empty, again.

Adam moves dreamy-slow, watching the droplets on the windowpanes, but listens attentively to Sammy relating the news from home (New York) nevertheless.

“You know,” Adam says, gazing out towards the damp, “I found this old copy of Luna Moth, just lying around with my stuff. It’s the one, you know, the one with the Russian jewel thief?” (Sammy does not, as a matter of fact.) “And I was just thinking, she’s my favorite. I’ve told you that, right? God, I thought she was the most gorgeous thing as a kid.” (This is what everyone was meant to think, Sammy wants to say, but he stays quiet.) "Except then, you know, after, I realized,” and now Adam looks down, a flush rising to his cheeks, and now he continues, “that maybe I just wanted to be her.”

Sammy answers, after a moment, after a silence has fallen between them, "Well, everyone wants to be a superhero."

Adam smiles.

“Someday,” Adam once says, serious and slate-eyed, “people are going to write books about you.” He speaks as if making a covenant.

“Well, someday,” Sammy replies, “people are going to write books about you.”


Older OMC - Dessert, playful, otk spanking by Anon
Hooking up with the man who has just interviewed you is probably a bad idea, but after a nice dinner and a few glasses of wine and an interview that felt more like a casual conversation, Adam thinks it is too tempting to resist when Eric invites him up to his hotel room for dessert.

Eric is brown-haired, brown-eyed, with broad shoulders and a disarming smile, he's in his late thirties and has been a music journalist for over fifteen years. That is all Adam knows about him, the point of their dinner has been to interview Adam after all, and Adam has no problem with talking about himself. Maybe he has over shared again, but he feels quite certain Eric will contact him with the finished article before publishing it as he has said he would.

He leans on Eric in the elevator, feeling very relaxed and even happy. As they enter the hotel room, Eric actually calls down and orders something, and Adam laughs.

”So we're really having dessert?” he asks sinking down in one of the chairs by the window, ”You're such a gentleman.”

Eric smiles, sits down across from him.

”I might have an ulterior motive. I have this wish to see you eat those strawberries I just ordered.”

”I think I can oblige,” but Adam isn't exactly patient so he gets up, straddles Eric's lap and captures his mouth in a slow, teasing kiss. Eric gets his arms around Adam's waist, pulls him close, and kisses back with enthusiasm. They are already hard against each other, grinding, when a knock on the door interrupts them.

”Time for dessert now,” Eric says, pushing Adam off him gently before getting up. Adam pouts, but when Eric gets a tray with a bowl full of fresh strawberries and another with whipped cream and puts it down on the table in the middle of the room, Adam is quick to join him on the couch, sitting down as close as he can.

Eric takes a strawberry and dips it into the cream, holding it out to Adam.

”Cream is not a part of my diet you know,” Adam says, only half joking.

Eric tilts his head, smiles and says;

”For me?” And Adam leans forward and opens his mouth wide, taking the strawberry and licking slowly at Eric's finger before retreating, chewing happily, it is absolutely delicious.

”Good, huh?” Eric is looking very intently at Adam's mouth.

”Yeah, you should try some.” Adam takes a strawberry, scoops up some cream with it and puts it against Eric's lips but when Eric opens his mouth to accept it he pops it into his own mouth instead, giggling at Eric's somewhat stunned expression.

”You're a tease, aren't you?” Eric says then, laughing as Adam grabs another strawberry, crawls onto Eric's lap and proceeds to practically giving the strawberry a blow job, licking and sucking and slowly grinding his cock down against Eric's at the same time.

Eric pushes Adam down onto his back, catches Adam's mouth with his, trying to steal the strawberry and kiss him simultaneously. They share a kiss tasting of strawberries and Adam is getting impatient now, trying to get Eric's shirt off, ripping a few buttons off in his haste. Eric pulls Adam's shirt off as well and then gets the bowl of cream, and smears some over Adam's chest.

”I'm just going to use you as a plate instead,” Eric says, takes Adam's hands and holds them over Adam's head as he proceeds to lick the cream off, teasing at Adam's nipples, making Adam arch towards his mouth.

When Eric gets up to put the bowl and the tray away, Adam wriggles away and gets up from the coach, twirling around, feeling incredibly silly, but he can't help himself, he's having too much fun.

”Come on, dance with me!” he says, gyrating his hips to an unexisting beat.

”Dancing is not really what I have in mind,” Eric replies, walking up to Adam, catching him around the waist.

But Adam twirls away, shaking his ass and laughing as Eric catches up with him.

”You're just asking for it.” Eric says, smiling and tugs Adam towards the couch again, firm grip on his hand. And then Adam is pulled down over Eric's lap, face pressed into soft coach pillows, and he can feel large hands palming his ass and then suddenly smacking him.

”What do you think you're doing?” Adam asks, but his voice is muffled and his cock is aching and hard, and he knows Eric can feel it.

”Just enjoying myself,” Eric says, and Adam can hear laughter in his voice. And he smacks Adam's ass again a bit harder, and Adam wriggles a bit but he doesn't try to get up. Then his pants are pulled down to bare his ass, and Eric blows hot air over it, making Adam giggle before smacking him again, actually starting to spank Adam's ass with his open hand, and Adam almost laughs at first, because he feels a bit ridiculous, lying spread over Eric's knees, bare ass in the air. But then his ass gets hotter and hotter as Eric spanks him harder, and he can't decide if he wants to get away or if he wants more so he just squirms on Eric's lap, moans and feels his face flushing with heat.

”Your ass looks really good like this,” Eric says and his voice is strained.

”Come on,” Adam whines but he doesn't really know what he's asking for, and Eric smacks him a couple of more times before getting up from under Adam, leaving him stretched out on the coach.

”Wait here,” he orders, and Adam has no plan at all getting up, and when Eric returns, not many seconds later he's humping the coach, unashamedly.

”Hmm, you're really a slut,” Eric says as he's pulling Adam's pants completely off, but it's affectionate and Adam does not protest when he's pulled up by the hips and a lube slick finger teases his hole.

He pushes back onto the finger says; ”Don't be such a fucking tease.” And that gets him another smack on his already sore ass but also a couple of more fingers pushing inside, making him feel stretched and sore from the inside as well. But it's the good kind of pain and he wants more so he fucks himself on Eric's fingers, but then Eric pulls his fingers out suddenly and says;

”Get on your back for me?” And Adam complies, sees no reason not to, he gets on his back and allows Eric in between his legs, watches and giggles as Eric's fumbling to get the condom on.

”I thought you were old enough to have gotten the hang of that,” Adam says, breathlessly, and Eric pushes his cock inside without warning then, and it burns and Adam gasps.

Eric holds Adam's thighs apart and fucks him too slowly, not allowing Adam to push back.

”Can you ever keep still for two seconds?” Eric asks and Adam wraps his legs around him, his ass burning when Eric moves against him but he doesn't care.

”Maybe. After. You. Get. Me. Off.” Adam moans in relief as Eric wraps a hand around his cock, strokes him in rhythm with their fucking.

When he finally comes it's almost a surprise because he's already so heated all over, and Eric continues fucking him after he comes, the same steady rhythm, until he comes as well, pushing deep and hard as he does.

Adam feels incredibly sore when Eric pulls out and he doesn't feel like he can move, though he really doesn't want to stay with his sore ass against the fabric of the coach so he tries to roll over, and almost falls off the coach instead. Eric laughs and Adam tries to glare at him, but he has a feeling that he doesn't come of as very scary at the moment.

Eric pulls him up instead, getting them both on their feet, and Adam thinks that this is probably when he should leave, but Adam's never been very good at following any one-night stand etiquette so when Eric says;

”Let's get on the bed instead,” he follows Eric across the room and falls down face forward on the bed, not bothering to get underneath the sheets because he's still too hot anyway.

”You won't include this in your article, will you?,” Adam mumbles as he feels Eric lay down beside him and Eric wraps an arm around him an laughs.

”I don't work for that kind of magazine,” he says.

Adam falls asleep almost instantly thinking that they can maybe eat the rest of the strawberries for breakfast tomorrow.


Anoop Desai* - Bantering, slow, bottom!Adam by conserif
“I don't know how you talked me into this.”

“It's my birthday.”

“Yeah, but-”

“It's my birthday.”

“I got you a fucking motorcycle. Did you not see it? I put a bow on it, and if I had known that you would have preferred I put the bow on my ass I would have saved a shit ton of mo-”

“It's my birthday, and I love the motorcycle.” Anoop says, and Adam can feel the mattress bounce beneath him as Anoop crawls closer. He can't see him though, fucking blindfold. “Besides, there's something else I'd rather be riding right now, if you catch my drift.”

He turns up the egg vibrator to the highest setting in two fast sequences, like a revving motor, and Adam's body jerks and then shivers uncontrollably.

An embarrassingly shrill sound escapes his lips.

“Y-you fucker. Think you're so funny.” Adam pants once the vibrator's set back to a dull buzz. “That you're so witty.”

“Shh-sh-sh, let me enjoy this. It's my birthday.” Anoop quips, patting the quaking muscles in Adam's thigh. “Or, you know, keep on riling yourself up, firecracker.”

There's a tinkling noise, silverware against a plate, and Adam's eyebrows shoot up over the blindfold when he realizes what it is.

“You're eating the cake, aren't you?”

“Yes, it's delicious. Do you want some?”

“The cake your mom made you.”

“It's also the cake I used to wish for some innocent, childish thing that I can't tell you because then it won't come true, but I will tell you it has something to do with John Stamos, but not like that, don't be jealous. And yes, I am that shameless. Here is me being that shameless.”

Adam startles when he feels Anoop's hand smear something sticky across his chest, rubbing in. Once satisfied with the coverage, Anoop starts to lick the frosting off, lingering on Adam's nipples, teasing and biting them until they are hard and red and sensitive.

He sits up and blows the wet skin, the blast of cold air visibly pulling the pink buds tighter.

Adam's breathless and his mouth is dry, and he can only manage a broken sounding laugh.

“Your mom hand whipped that frosting, you know.” He says, swallowing, half given up, he just wants Anoop to keep touching him so bad.

“Mmm, hand whipped.” Anoop bites at his neck, growling it into his ear. “Don't give me ideas now.”

Again, the mattress bounces when Anoop flops down on it, face level with Adam's. His breath hits Adam's cheek, and Adam gets the feeling that he's being studied, watched like a hawk.

“You're looking at me.” Adam says, quiet.

“I can't help it.”

It's sweet and unnerving and flattering all at once.

Adam's glad his eyes are covered.

For a while, Anoop just plays with the vibrator settings, alternating between high, low, and medium, and Adam twists and whines and bites his lip, the room full of their slow, labored breathing.

At last Adam reaches out his hand blindly, squeezing Anoop's fingers between his, and Anoop gets up and kneels between his legs. He pulls the vibrator out and puts it aside, folding a pillow underneath Adam's hips.

He pushes in slowly, and Adam wants to beg him not to be such a goddamn romantic and break him in half already, but he doesn't seem able to form coherent words at the moment, so he wraps his legs around Anoop and holds him tight, hoping that will be enough. It works; Anoop starts thrusting in harder, hot and big, and Adam flexes around him, eyes squeezed shut behind the blindfold.

Adam comes first, choking out a cry, body tense, so tense before sinking back into the bed, limp as water. He's trembling all over, even his lips, blush pink when Anoop kisses them, still driving into him, erratic and stuttering and then coming deep inside him.

Anoop collapses on top of Adam and snuggles in, and Adam has to reach up over his big, heavy body to take the blind fold off. All he can see is Anoop's dark hair in his face.

“Happy birthday.” He whispers, smiling and closing his eyes.

adam/anoop desai, adam/fictional character, adam/longineu parsons, !fic meme, adam/omc

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