DRABBLE MEME: BATCH 12
OMC - unprompted by Anon (A/N Wedding fic. This is all Rosepetalfall and Ellipsis' fault.)
“But, well, I don’t know, what if we could have the lights coming out of the bigger flowers? Could we? Because that would be so cool. Or maybe fireworks? Like, little sparklers? We got the sparklers, right?”
As the planner attempted to convince Adam that fresh flowers and pyro were perhaps not the best last minute wedding combination, Neil rolled his eyes at Brad, tugging at the collar of the new suit as Josh fussed with the hem. Really, it was amazing no one had attempted to strangle his brother yet, between the lasers and the fireworks and Leila sitting Adam down to explain that the perhaps the wedding party ought to be smaller than the guest list. Luckily, Danielle had been a little more successful in talking Adam down to only ten groomsmen, but no had been able to convince him that he couldn’t have three best men and a best girl.
“He’s going to end up lighting his flowers on fire, isn’t he?” Brad muttered, fussing with the rhinestones on his lapel. “Adam, you’re not allowed to burn this place down, I just finished sparkling the bunting!” Adam leaned back as Brad pranced by him, almost tipping his chair over in order to grab Brad’s arm and plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Sutan groaned and pulled out the lip-gloss again.
“Undoubtedly. He’s obsessed,” Neil groaned. “Who would have thought my big queer brother would end up getting married before me? And decide to have the most ridiculous wedding ever?”
Next to them, Sutan was gently trying to pry the rhinestones away from Adam and replace them with a more subtle shimmer shadow that ‘will make your eyes look divine, honey, I promise. But stop smiling, you’ll fuck up the foundation.’
“Maybe because you’re such a grouch,” Monte said, slipping in with Ariel on his hip, “he’s the nice Jewish boy everybody wants.” Neil flipped him off.
“Josh, how on earth is this tie supposed to work? It’s got mirrors on it. I can’t tie mirrors.” As Josh huffed and grabbed the tie, Ariel made a beeline for the sparkliest part of the room.
“There’s my flower girl!! You look like a princess!” Adam pushed Sutan’s brush away, ignoring his affectionate growl to spin Ariel around and fuss with her peacock feather tiara, grinning as she hopped into his lap.
“Uncle Adam! Uncle Mike says to tell you that you look pretty.” Adam blushed and giggled, looking so ridiculously besotted that Neil nearly flagged Lane down to ask when the bar would open.
“Mike hasn’t even seen me yet, princess, unless you’ve been helping him spy on me.” Ariel giggled, fussing with the silver and blue stone ring on Adam’s left hand that had been the result of Mike's surprise midnight walk on the beach six months ago.
“He said you’d say that and I’m supposed to tell you that he thinks you’re always pretty.” She threw her arms around Adam’s neck and skipped off, leaving Adam practically vibrating with joy in the makeup chair.
“Awww, look at him, love-struck fucker,” Tommy slipped up behind Neil to grab him affectionately around the waist. Neil, as always, struggled halfheartedly before resigning himself to being groped. It was only natural that his brother’s sappy friends would be even more hug-prone than usual today. He contented himself with stealing a gulp of Tommy’s beer as payback.
But it was true that Adam was the definition of love-struck, grinning like an idiot, his eyes shining. His whole face was glowing brighter than the glitter Sutan was now trying to smooth through his hair, having given up trying to work foundation around the smile. He’d arm wrestle Longineu before he’d admit it, but he’d never seen his brother so damn happy. Not that he’d ever tell Adam he believed in all that stars and signs bullshit, but, well, there was something about watching his brother glitter naturally that felt like the universe clicking into place. Maybe today was one those days when humanity decided to make up for all its shit.
He ruffled Tommy’s hair, ignoring the elbow in his side, and went to make sure Ferras and Cam hadn’t gotten into a hair pulling match over who got to play the organ part of the wedding march remix.
Three hours later, the flowers were miraculously not engulfed in flames, the laser arbor had turned out surprisingly tasteful and Mike had jumped Adam halfway through his dissertation on the chemistry of their rising signs, kissing him hard enough that he forget the rest of his speech, which rather expedited the ceremony. Now, the disco ball sending flickering lights over the dance floor, the entire circus was still for just moment. Adam swayed with Mike in the center of the dance floor, letting Mike dip him gently into a soft kiss and nuzzling against his neck. If the single feather braided into Mike’s dark hair caught on the new ring sparkling on Adam’s finger, well, it was just an excuse to lean a little closer and whisper ‘you’re beautiful’. And if the fireworks overhead drowned out Adam’s whispered reply, the light in his eyes and the glimmer of his smile said enough before Adam buried his face in Mike’s shoulder.
Of course he was still leading, even with his nose against Mike’s hair and lashes soft against his cheek, because Adam attempting to follow in a waltz had been a rather disastrous experiment that left Adam giggling helplessly and Mike head over heels in more than one way. Mike melted into the soft touch of lips behind his ear and followed blindly, feeling gentle hands on his shoulders steady him as the other couples flowed easily around them. When Adam’s shoulder began to shake beneath his hands he pulled back, thinking fondly that of course Adam would be the one to cry at his own wedding. Instead, Adam was laughing, infectiously joyous in the way that had first drawn Mike to him, picking up the rising beat with his hips. He glowed like one of those Chinese lanterns Mike’s mother had always told him would shine brighter the more you put good wishes in them, his entire body vibrant.
“We just got married!”
Mike had quite liked the shoes he’d found to match his suit but he never saw them again. As the DJ spun into Goldfrapp around three in the morning, he found himself barefoot on a bench, feet tucked beneath Adam’s knees, Adam’s shoulders soft and solid beneath his arm, his face upturned to catch Mike’s lazy kisses. As he paused to watch Tommy cut in on Kris and a rather tipsy Neil try to keep up with Sasha, Adam ran a hand down his arm to curl his around Mike’s palm, his nail polish smooth under Mike’s fingers. They had a flight to catch eventually, but this, easy and languid with Adam warm against him, loose and content, was worth all the lasers and burnt flowers and lost shoes in the world.
Tommy - unprompted by Anon
Adam's been away doing solo TV promo for, like, a week or more, and usually Tommy's fine with going that long but this time it's been harder than usual, bad, and he feels itchy and out-of-control in his skin, snapping at Monte during band rehearsal and tuning and re-tuning his bass until he breaks a string.
Monte tells him to just go home, already, more indulgent than upset, and Tommy only makes one half-hearted protest before he's out the door and away, because Adam should be back by now and he just--needs.
He goes straight to Adam's place without even asking, is how far gone he is, but Adam doesn't say anything about it when he opens the door, just looks at Tommy and his eyes get soft for a second, concerned, and then he straightens up.
"Strip," he says, somewhere close to gentle but firm, too, sure. He closes the door and watches while Tommy tugs his shirt over his head, fingers shaking, and pushes his jeans and underwear to the ground. Tommy can't look at Adam, and he feels exposed and embarrassed and cold, even, and then Adam puts three fingers under his chin and guides his head up.
"If this isn't what you need right now, tell me and we'll try something else," he says, "but I think it is."
"It is," says Tommy, because he still wants to look away, and he still feels awkward and too aware of his own nakedness, vulnerable, but those feelings are like the shadowy background to the bigger sense of calm and peace that's stealing over him with each even, sure word Adam says.
"Good," says Adam, and then, "bedroom."
Every step he takes down the hall makes Tommy's skin itch less, his breathing ironing out to an even one-two time. Inside, Adam sits on the edge of the bed and gestures to the box he keeps on the dresser.
"Get the plug," he says, and Tommy shivers at the thought of Adam's fingers pressing it into him, but then Adam says, "Do it yourself; I want to watch," and Tommy goes aching and hard just from hearing that, those words from Adam's lips.
He lies down on his back on the bed, legs spread and knees bent, and Adam watches and tells him to open himself with one finger first, then two, to push it in slower-careful-okay. Tommy bites at his bottom lip and shudders and lets his body do what Adam tells him, lets Adam think for him, and Adam doesn't touch him once the whole time.
Adam doesn't graze his skin even when he ties Tommy's hands behind his back with a strip of leather, fingers careful and merciless and always, always keeping that thin cloth between themselves and Tommy's wrists. By the time he's finished Tommy can feel the hairs on his body standing on end, aching for Adam, the spreading warmth of need replacing the tightness that had lingered all week.
"Can I blindfold you?" Adam asks, because they've never done that before, and Tommy nods and sinks to his knees between Adam's legs, head bowed as Adam--still so careful not to touch him--wraps silk over his eyes. Through the new blanket of darkness, Tommy hears Adam unzip his jeans, the rough breath he takes as he strokes himself a few times.
Adam doesn't have to speak to give the next instruction--Tommy feels what he wants, knows because it's what he wants too, what he needs, and he lets a soft moan escape him as he takes Adam in as far as he can. Adam's hot and thick on his tongue, and Tommy gets lost in the rough choke of it, Adam's low noises above him and the way spit and precome leak helplessly down his chin.
Adam's hands still aren't on him, no fingers pulling at his hair, and Tommy can't feel anything but the slide of Adam's cock in his mouth, like his whole world has narrowed down to this one thudding point of contact.
"So good, Tommy, so perfect--" Adam says, words appearing hazily in the place Tommy is now, and then Tommy feels him pull out, a loss that makes him wobble forward and whine, desperately.
"It's okay, I've got you," Adam says, and then Tommy feels the hot spurts hit his face, streaking across his cheek and dripping down his chin, filthy and perfect.
"Fuck, Tommy," Adam says, breathless, and Tommy thinks about what Adam must see--him, tied up and blindfolded, covered in his come and so hard he's leaking all over his own stomach, fuck. He feels aching and needy and shameless, like he fits so perfectly here, like this.
"You want to come?" Adam asks, and Tommy groans in response. "Okay, baby, come," but Adam still doesn't touch him, doesn't give him permission to get up, and Tommy can't--
"Yes, you can," Adam says, soft, from above him, and Tommy remembers the thick press of the plug in his ass. "Good boy," Adam says when he shifts to get his heel underneath him, so he can rub down on it, press it in against him and rock, whining and desperate, so close, and he needs it so bad he can feels close to tears, just--
"Come for me, baby," Adam says, sharp, and Tommy does, so hard he wobbles and almost collapses, feels Adam's big hands hold him up and the sudden touch on his oversensitive skin makes him cry out, too much.
"God, you're so perfect, so good for me, Tommy," Adam tells him, petting him--hands stroking over his arms, his sides, lifting him up onto the bed and laying him out gently.
"So good, Tommy," he says again, and then Tommy feels him pull out the plug with careful fingers, sending sparks flying up his spine.
"Close your eyes," and then Adam takes the blindfold off, and even through his eyelids Tommy notices the sudden, harsh change in light. Adam presses into him, big and slow and devastating, and then he says, "You can open them now, careful," and Tommy blinks and sees him looking down with--fuck it, with love, and Adam fucks him until he comes again, sated and sleepy and sure.
Tommy - unprompted by glitter_vampire (Mod note: Originally posted here, but I decided to repost it here since the post was dead when she posted it)
Level Up
"So." Adam turned a vodka-hazed, shadowed-and-linered gaze onto Tommy's calm expression. "Where's my present?" His lips quirked in an infectious grin and he sashayed across the hotel room carpet, shrugging out of his jacket and leaving it in an expensive studded heap, half-on and half-off one of the hotel's Regency-style chairs.
It was almost 5am, and Adam's birthday party was still winding down somewhere Out There, but Tommy had dragged Adam away before his boyfriend was too drunk to appreciate his birthday present. There had only been a few protests, swiftly silenced by Tommy's determined look and the firm grip he'd laid around Adam's elbow as he guided him away from yet more alcohol-fuelled birthday kisses from random friends and strangers.
"First," Tommy said softly as Adam came to a wavering halt before him, rocking only slightly on his toes, "I want you to wash this off." Tommy tracked a long, slender finger along one glitter-streaked eyebrow, down a blush-laden cheekbone, and across a lower lip that had had most of its gloss coating kissed off. "And then these go, too." He tugged at the collar of Adam's shirt, meaning all of his clothes, almost as an afterthought.
"Mmm, we're getting naked so you can give me my present?"Adam may have been about to wash the glitter from above his eyes, but he would have a hard job removing the glint from inside them. "Does it involve a big red bow around your dick?"
"Get!" A sharp slap to Adam's hip, and only the faintest flicker of a smile from Tommy had Mr One-Year-Older Rockstar running for the bathroom, laughing and tugging his shirt free of his pants.
Tommy watched as the door closed behind Adam, cocked an ear at the sound of running water, then turned to dig into his backpack, wherein rested the gift he'd spent so long looking for, and he wasn't going to lie, had agonised just a little bit over.
They'd had this agreement, see. The one that meant yes, Tommy would be with Adam in just about every way that Adam could wish for. Because Tommy was straight, if a little bit bendy, and could not envisage a situation where he wanted to get fucked, no matter how much he adored Adam. He'd tried, of course he had. When Adam got those big, blinky, puppydog eyes going it was fucking hard to resist. But at the crucial moment, Tommy had chickened out and they'd ended the night with mutual blowjobs instead. Weirdly, Tommy could get into giving blowjobs. Dick in his mouth wasn't the problem, see.
Adam had been fine with it. A little disappointed, naturally, but the post-BJ haze had soon put paid to that, and they'd settled into a comfortable routine of handjobs, blowjobs and dry humping that kept Tommy happy and seemed to satisfy Adam, too. That is, until one day when they'd been caught short and desperate in a public place and ended up jacking each other off in some store cupboard. Vocal as ever, Adam had parted his lips to cry out as he came, only to find Tommy's free hand clamped across his mouth, silencing him. The look in Adam's eyes, the way they'd flared open and then rolled back as he came, spoke volumes to Tommy, and moved their relationship onto a whole new level. Sex was now a very definite part of it, but not in the way that Adam had originally envisaged it.
So here Tommy stood as the noise of the shower ceased, standing in a luxury hotel suite with a slender, store-wrapped package cradled in one hand, waiting. He should have been nervous, but an eerie calmness had descended over him the moment he'd caressed Adam's face. He felt as though, all this time he'd been jerking and flailing at their relationship, never quite able to find his place in it. But now, thanks to that moment in the cupboard, he knew where his place was, and what responsibilities it held.
The bathroom door opened and Adam wandered out, towelling off his hair, gloriously naked, skin still damp and dusted with tiny brown stars. Tommy stared for a moment, just letting himself be lost in the vision that he knew with certainty was all his, then he gathered himself and held out the beautifully-wrapped present.
"Happy birthday," he murmured.
The towel joined Adam's jacket on the floor, one still-beringed hand ran through Adam's hair in a vain attempt to neaten it, and Adam reached out, his beautiful face devoid of all powders and artifice, wreathed in smiles.
"Thank you, baby," he whispered, bending to nuzzle a kiss to Tommy's hair as he took the gift. One shiny black fingernail found a gap in the tape and picked at it as Tommy bounced on his toes for a moment, then stilled himself.
"I designed it myself," he said. "Wanted something personal. From me."
The paper drifted to the floor and Adam stared at the box. "Is it jewellery?" he asked, thumb poised to push open the lid.
Tommy rested his palm on the back of Adam's hand, staying the movement. "I thought it was time I got you this," he said softly. "I think it's the right thing to do now, but if you don't want it, be honest and tell me, okay? I won't be mad if it's too much for you."
"You haven't managed to find my 'too much' yet," Adam said, eyes glittering with humour. He pecked another kiss to the tip of Tommy's nose, and that was when Tommy took his hand away and Adam prised open the box.
A long silence bloomed between them, filling the room. Tommy wanted to bite his lip, but if Adam accepted his present then a show of nerves would give out bad signals. No, Tommy had to be everything this gift promised he could be, so he just waited, calm and patient.
"Jesus Christ, Tommy," Adam whispered.
It was no good. The question had to be asked, since Adam wasn't volunteering anything other than wide eyes.
"Do you want it?" Tommy looked up at him.
"I..." Adam's pale gaze swivelled onto him, searching for something. Tommy met that gaze with one of calm control, and the moment lengthened between them into a minute before it clicked and Adam relaxed into it.
"Yes," he whispered. "I want it."
Tommy simply nodded. "Take it out of the box and give it to me, then."
He watched, noting the fine tremble of Adam's fingers as they lifted his delicate gift out, setting the box to one side on a table. Adam held the gift out to him, but Tommy didn't take it. Because that wasn't right. That wasn't the way it needed to be done, see.
A moment of uncertainty passed, Adam looking at him, lower lip snagged between his teeth. Tommy's expression was imperturbable; the very image of patience itself, because he knew Adam was a fast learner.
This much Adam proved a moment later as he dipped his gaze, lowered his head, and with the grace of a born dancer, slowly sank to his knees before holding up the gift with both hands.
Finally, finally, Tommy took the gift from Adam, stepping behind him and reaching back around him. Smooth, soft black leather kissed the shower-damp skin of Adam's throat and Tommy nodded his approval as he saw Adam's hands come together, clasping loosely behind him.
It was a perfect fit. Tommy had checked with Adam's tailor, requesting his neck size and relaying it to the creator of the gift. The strap folded through the silver buckle at Adam's nape, and Tommy's thumb caressed the metal that bore his initials. His mark. His claim, strapped and buckled around Adam's neck.
"Good boy," he soothed, resting his hand on the top of Adam's bowed head.
And the game moved on to the next level.
Gen band!fic - unprompted by Anon (A/N for crazedenchilada 's prompt "tour bus breaks down")
The first problem is that the bus breaks down.
The second problem is that it disappears.
Except it could be the other way around, actually, like one of insolvable-paradox problems that Neil gets out of the, like, New York Times, and leaves lying around half-finished because he knows it drives Adam crazy when he can’t solve something.
“The first problem was coming to a club where they serve green drinks,” Monte says, coming up next to him.
“The first problem was coming to a club where the walls are spinning.” Tommy looks almost as green as his drink. Also the walls aren’t actually spinning. Adam is pretty sure the walls aren’t actually spinning.
LP tucks his drumsticks under one arm and steadies Tommy with the other. “This reminds me of this one time in Berlin,” he says.
This one time in Berlin, what? Adam wants to say. This one time in Berlin you got mugged? This one time in Berlin you stayed out all night and had incredible sex and woke up under the stars on a rooftop? This one time in Berlin you lost all your money in a bet and had to sleep with a one-handed trucker to catch a ride back to your bus? It could be anything. LP never finishes his stories, just like he never gets more than half-dressed or moderately annoyed. Adam’s not sure if this makes him more or less interesting.
Everyone’s gathered together now, Monte and LP and Tommy and Sasha and Terence. “Okay, let’s go outside,” Adam says calmly. “Sasha, why don’t you lead the way.” It’s good to delegate leadership. Also, he’s not entirely sure where the door is. There’s definitely something weird going on with the walls and the lighting. And possibly with his head.
The night air feels good against his face, heavy and damp and dark. There are streetlights and stars, out, and Tommy tips his head back and breathes deep. Watching him, Adam remembers being on stage, just a few hours ago. It seems like this, right here, is what Tommy’s been doing all along, and what Adam’s been trying to do, except he keeps getting caught up in it, that feeling of too much and too big and overwhelmed. The boots he's wearing are gorgeous--studded leather with a badass heel--but he kind of wants to take them off. There’s grass all along the road, right up to the bench outside the bus stop, and it looks soft.
Monte touches his shoulder. “I talked to Neil. They had to tow the bus to a shop, that’s why it’s gone. It’ll be tough to catch a cab in this town, but he’ll send a car eventually, or we can try to get a public bus.” Adam’s willing to bet Neil said some more choice things than that, but Monte’s good at knowing what Adam can and can’t handle at any given moment, and always has been. The thing about Monte is, it kind of seems like he always will be, too, but that’s probably naïve.
The bus stop is only a few hundred feet away, and Adam’s leaning on LP and half-carrying Tommy by the time they get there.
Sasha’s the only one who doesn’t collapse onto the bench. “So, what? Are we hitching?
Terence reaches over and taps his knee. “Yeah, Adam, you’re famous now, work that ass. Someone’s bound to stop.”
“My money’s on Tommy, actually,” Sasha says, and Terence laughs.
“Shut up.” Tommy frowns, mock tough-guy.
Then he turns toward Adam and presses his face into his neck. “It’s true though,” he says in a stage whisper. “Cars always stop for me.”
Adam smiles a little and tousles his hair affectionately. “I’ll bet.”
Tommy puts his arms around Adam’s neck, settling in, and everyone slides together to fit on the bench. Adam puts his head on LP’s shoulder. He can feel Terence’s hand, warm, resting on his other knee, and the pinpricks of stars and shooting stars and the world around them, crickets and traffic and far-off voices like a symphony.
“So what happened in Berlin?” Adam says to LP, eventually.
“Oh.” LP shifts a little, carefully so as not to jostle Adam or Sasha. “Well, it turned out pretty much like my dad said it would.”
Someone-Monte?-laughs, soft, and Adam smiles too.
It’s no more of an ending, really, but they’re at the beginning of everything, anyway.
“But, well, I don’t know, what if we could have the lights coming out of the bigger flowers? Could we? Because that would be so cool. Or maybe fireworks? Like, little sparklers? We got the sparklers, right?”
As the planner attempted to convince Adam that fresh flowers and pyro were perhaps not the best last minute wedding combination, Neil rolled his eyes at Brad, tugging at the collar of the new suit as Josh fussed with the hem. Really, it was amazing no one had attempted to strangle his brother yet, between the lasers and the fireworks and Leila sitting Adam down to explain that the perhaps the wedding party ought to be smaller than the guest list. Luckily, Danielle had been a little more successful in talking Adam down to only ten groomsmen, but no had been able to convince him that he couldn’t have three best men and a best girl.
“He’s going to end up lighting his flowers on fire, isn’t he?” Brad muttered, fussing with the rhinestones on his lapel. “Adam, you’re not allowed to burn this place down, I just finished sparkling the bunting!” Adam leaned back as Brad pranced by him, almost tipping his chair over in order to grab Brad’s arm and plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Sutan groaned and pulled out the lip-gloss again.
“Undoubtedly. He’s obsessed,” Neil groaned. “Who would have thought my big queer brother would end up getting married before me? And decide to have the most ridiculous wedding ever?”
Next to them, Sutan was gently trying to pry the rhinestones away from Adam and replace them with a more subtle shimmer shadow that ‘will make your eyes look divine, honey, I promise. But stop smiling, you’ll fuck up the foundation.’
“Maybe because you’re such a grouch,” Monte said, slipping in with Ariel on his hip, “he’s the nice Jewish boy everybody wants.” Neil flipped him off.
“Josh, how on earth is this tie supposed to work? It’s got mirrors on it. I can’t tie mirrors.” As Josh huffed and grabbed the tie, Ariel made a beeline for the sparkliest part of the room.
“There’s my flower girl!! You look like a princess!” Adam pushed Sutan’s brush away, ignoring his affectionate growl to spin Ariel around and fuss with her peacock feather tiara, grinning as she hopped into his lap.
“Uncle Adam! Uncle Mike says to tell you that you look pretty.” Adam blushed and giggled, looking so ridiculously besotted that Neil nearly flagged Lane down to ask when the bar would open.
“Mike hasn’t even seen me yet, princess, unless you’ve been helping him spy on me.” Ariel giggled, fussing with the silver and blue stone ring on Adam’s left hand that had been the result of Mike's surprise midnight walk on the beach six months ago.
“He said you’d say that and I’m supposed to tell you that he thinks you’re always pretty.” She threw her arms around Adam’s neck and skipped off, leaving Adam practically vibrating with joy in the makeup chair.
“Awww, look at him, love-struck fucker,” Tommy slipped up behind Neil to grab him affectionately around the waist. Neil, as always, struggled halfheartedly before resigning himself to being groped. It was only natural that his brother’s sappy friends would be even more hug-prone than usual today. He contented himself with stealing a gulp of Tommy’s beer as payback.
But it was true that Adam was the definition of love-struck, grinning like an idiot, his eyes shining. His whole face was glowing brighter than the glitter Sutan was now trying to smooth through his hair, having given up trying to work foundation around the smile. He’d arm wrestle Longineu before he’d admit it, but he’d never seen his brother so damn happy. Not that he’d ever tell Adam he believed in all that stars and signs bullshit, but, well, there was something about watching his brother glitter naturally that felt like the universe clicking into place. Maybe today was one those days when humanity decided to make up for all its shit.
He ruffled Tommy’s hair, ignoring the elbow in his side, and went to make sure Ferras and Cam hadn’t gotten into a hair pulling match over who got to play the organ part of the wedding march remix.
Three hours later, the flowers were miraculously not engulfed in flames, the laser arbor had turned out surprisingly tasteful and Mike had jumped Adam halfway through his dissertation on the chemistry of their rising signs, kissing him hard enough that he forget the rest of his speech, which rather expedited the ceremony. Now, the disco ball sending flickering lights over the dance floor, the entire circus was still for just moment. Adam swayed with Mike in the center of the dance floor, letting Mike dip him gently into a soft kiss and nuzzling against his neck. If the single feather braided into Mike’s dark hair caught on the new ring sparkling on Adam’s finger, well, it was just an excuse to lean a little closer and whisper ‘you’re beautiful’. And if the fireworks overhead drowned out Adam’s whispered reply, the light in his eyes and the glimmer of his smile said enough before Adam buried his face in Mike’s shoulder.
Of course he was still leading, even with his nose against Mike’s hair and lashes soft against his cheek, because Adam attempting to follow in a waltz had been a rather disastrous experiment that left Adam giggling helplessly and Mike head over heels in more than one way. Mike melted into the soft touch of lips behind his ear and followed blindly, feeling gentle hands on his shoulders steady him as the other couples flowed easily around them. When Adam’s shoulder began to shake beneath his hands he pulled back, thinking fondly that of course Adam would be the one to cry at his own wedding. Instead, Adam was laughing, infectiously joyous in the way that had first drawn Mike to him, picking up the rising beat with his hips. He glowed like one of those Chinese lanterns Mike’s mother had always told him would shine brighter the more you put good wishes in them, his entire body vibrant.
“We just got married!”
Mike had quite liked the shoes he’d found to match his suit but he never saw them again. As the DJ spun into Goldfrapp around three in the morning, he found himself barefoot on a bench, feet tucked beneath Adam’s knees, Adam’s shoulders soft and solid beneath his arm, his face upturned to catch Mike’s lazy kisses. As he paused to watch Tommy cut in on Kris and a rather tipsy Neil try to keep up with Sasha, Adam ran a hand down his arm to curl his around Mike’s palm, his nail polish smooth under Mike’s fingers. They had a flight to catch eventually, but this, easy and languid with Adam warm against him, loose and content, was worth all the lasers and burnt flowers and lost shoes in the world.
Tommy - unprompted by Anon
Adam's been away doing solo TV promo for, like, a week or more, and usually Tommy's fine with going that long but this time it's been harder than usual, bad, and he feels itchy and out-of-control in his skin, snapping at Monte during band rehearsal and tuning and re-tuning his bass until he breaks a string.
Monte tells him to just go home, already, more indulgent than upset, and Tommy only makes one half-hearted protest before he's out the door and away, because Adam should be back by now and he just--needs.
He goes straight to Adam's place without even asking, is how far gone he is, but Adam doesn't say anything about it when he opens the door, just looks at Tommy and his eyes get soft for a second, concerned, and then he straightens up.
"Strip," he says, somewhere close to gentle but firm, too, sure. He closes the door and watches while Tommy tugs his shirt over his head, fingers shaking, and pushes his jeans and underwear to the ground. Tommy can't look at Adam, and he feels exposed and embarrassed and cold, even, and then Adam puts three fingers under his chin and guides his head up.
"If this isn't what you need right now, tell me and we'll try something else," he says, "but I think it is."
"It is," says Tommy, because he still wants to look away, and he still feels awkward and too aware of his own nakedness, vulnerable, but those feelings are like the shadowy background to the bigger sense of calm and peace that's stealing over him with each even, sure word Adam says.
"Good," says Adam, and then, "bedroom."
Every step he takes down the hall makes Tommy's skin itch less, his breathing ironing out to an even one-two time. Inside, Adam sits on the edge of the bed and gestures to the box he keeps on the dresser.
"Get the plug," he says, and Tommy shivers at the thought of Adam's fingers pressing it into him, but then Adam says, "Do it yourself; I want to watch," and Tommy goes aching and hard just from hearing that, those words from Adam's lips.
He lies down on his back on the bed, legs spread and knees bent, and Adam watches and tells him to open himself with one finger first, then two, to push it in slower-careful-okay. Tommy bites at his bottom lip and shudders and lets his body do what Adam tells him, lets Adam think for him, and Adam doesn't touch him once the whole time.
Adam doesn't graze his skin even when he ties Tommy's hands behind his back with a strip of leather, fingers careful and merciless and always, always keeping that thin cloth between themselves and Tommy's wrists. By the time he's finished Tommy can feel the hairs on his body standing on end, aching for Adam, the spreading warmth of need replacing the tightness that had lingered all week.
"Can I blindfold you?" Adam asks, because they've never done that before, and Tommy nods and sinks to his knees between Adam's legs, head bowed as Adam--still so careful not to touch him--wraps silk over his eyes. Through the new blanket of darkness, Tommy hears Adam unzip his jeans, the rough breath he takes as he strokes himself a few times.
Adam doesn't have to speak to give the next instruction--Tommy feels what he wants, knows because it's what he wants too, what he needs, and he lets a soft moan escape him as he takes Adam in as far as he can. Adam's hot and thick on his tongue, and Tommy gets lost in the rough choke of it, Adam's low noises above him and the way spit and precome leak helplessly down his chin.
Adam's hands still aren't on him, no fingers pulling at his hair, and Tommy can't feel anything but the slide of Adam's cock in his mouth, like his whole world has narrowed down to this one thudding point of contact.
"So good, Tommy, so perfect--" Adam says, words appearing hazily in the place Tommy is now, and then Tommy feels him pull out, a loss that makes him wobble forward and whine, desperately.
"It's okay, I've got you," Adam says, and then Tommy feels the hot spurts hit his face, streaking across his cheek and dripping down his chin, filthy and perfect.
"Fuck, Tommy," Adam says, breathless, and Tommy thinks about what Adam must see--him, tied up and blindfolded, covered in his come and so hard he's leaking all over his own stomach, fuck. He feels aching and needy and shameless, like he fits so perfectly here, like this.
"You want to come?" Adam asks, and Tommy groans in response. "Okay, baby, come," but Adam still doesn't touch him, doesn't give him permission to get up, and Tommy can't--
"Yes, you can," Adam says, soft, from above him, and Tommy remembers the thick press of the plug in his ass. "Good boy," Adam says when he shifts to get his heel underneath him, so he can rub down on it, press it in against him and rock, whining and desperate, so close, and he needs it so bad he can feels close to tears, just--
"Come for me, baby," Adam says, sharp, and Tommy does, so hard he wobbles and almost collapses, feels Adam's big hands hold him up and the sudden touch on his oversensitive skin makes him cry out, too much.
"God, you're so perfect, so good for me, Tommy," Adam tells him, petting him--hands stroking over his arms, his sides, lifting him up onto the bed and laying him out gently.
"So good, Tommy," he says again, and then Tommy feels him pull out the plug with careful fingers, sending sparks flying up his spine.
"Close your eyes," and then Adam takes the blindfold off, and even through his eyelids Tommy notices the sudden, harsh change in light. Adam presses into him, big and slow and devastating, and then he says, "You can open them now, careful," and Tommy blinks and sees him looking down with--fuck it, with love, and Adam fucks him until he comes again, sated and sleepy and sure.
Tommy - unprompted by glitter_vampire (Mod note: Originally posted here, but I decided to repost it here since the post was dead when she posted it)
Level Up
"So." Adam turned a vodka-hazed, shadowed-and-linered gaze onto Tommy's calm expression. "Where's my present?" His lips quirked in an infectious grin and he sashayed across the hotel room carpet, shrugging out of his jacket and leaving it in an expensive studded heap, half-on and half-off one of the hotel's Regency-style chairs.
It was almost 5am, and Adam's birthday party was still winding down somewhere Out There, but Tommy had dragged Adam away before his boyfriend was too drunk to appreciate his birthday present. There had only been a few protests, swiftly silenced by Tommy's determined look and the firm grip he'd laid around Adam's elbow as he guided him away from yet more alcohol-fuelled birthday kisses from random friends and strangers.
"First," Tommy said softly as Adam came to a wavering halt before him, rocking only slightly on his toes, "I want you to wash this off." Tommy tracked a long, slender finger along one glitter-streaked eyebrow, down a blush-laden cheekbone, and across a lower lip that had had most of its gloss coating kissed off. "And then these go, too." He tugged at the collar of Adam's shirt, meaning all of his clothes, almost as an afterthought.
"Mmm, we're getting naked so you can give me my present?"Adam may have been about to wash the glitter from above his eyes, but he would have a hard job removing the glint from inside them. "Does it involve a big red bow around your dick?"
"Get!" A sharp slap to Adam's hip, and only the faintest flicker of a smile from Tommy had Mr One-Year-Older Rockstar running for the bathroom, laughing and tugging his shirt free of his pants.
Tommy watched as the door closed behind Adam, cocked an ear at the sound of running water, then turned to dig into his backpack, wherein rested the gift he'd spent so long looking for, and he wasn't going to lie, had agonised just a little bit over.
They'd had this agreement, see. The one that meant yes, Tommy would be with Adam in just about every way that Adam could wish for. Because Tommy was straight, if a little bit bendy, and could not envisage a situation where he wanted to get fucked, no matter how much he adored Adam. He'd tried, of course he had. When Adam got those big, blinky, puppydog eyes going it was fucking hard to resist. But at the crucial moment, Tommy had chickened out and they'd ended the night with mutual blowjobs instead. Weirdly, Tommy could get into giving blowjobs. Dick in his mouth wasn't the problem, see.
Adam had been fine with it. A little disappointed, naturally, but the post-BJ haze had soon put paid to that, and they'd settled into a comfortable routine of handjobs, blowjobs and dry humping that kept Tommy happy and seemed to satisfy Adam, too. That is, until one day when they'd been caught short and desperate in a public place and ended up jacking each other off in some store cupboard. Vocal as ever, Adam had parted his lips to cry out as he came, only to find Tommy's free hand clamped across his mouth, silencing him. The look in Adam's eyes, the way they'd flared open and then rolled back as he came, spoke volumes to Tommy, and moved their relationship onto a whole new level. Sex was now a very definite part of it, but not in the way that Adam had originally envisaged it.
So here Tommy stood as the noise of the shower ceased, standing in a luxury hotel suite with a slender, store-wrapped package cradled in one hand, waiting. He should have been nervous, but an eerie calmness had descended over him the moment he'd caressed Adam's face. He felt as though, all this time he'd been jerking and flailing at their relationship, never quite able to find his place in it. But now, thanks to that moment in the cupboard, he knew where his place was, and what responsibilities it held.
The bathroom door opened and Adam wandered out, towelling off his hair, gloriously naked, skin still damp and dusted with tiny brown stars. Tommy stared for a moment, just letting himself be lost in the vision that he knew with certainty was all his, then he gathered himself and held out the beautifully-wrapped present.
"Happy birthday," he murmured.
The towel joined Adam's jacket on the floor, one still-beringed hand ran through Adam's hair in a vain attempt to neaten it, and Adam reached out, his beautiful face devoid of all powders and artifice, wreathed in smiles.
"Thank you, baby," he whispered, bending to nuzzle a kiss to Tommy's hair as he took the gift. One shiny black fingernail found a gap in the tape and picked at it as Tommy bounced on his toes for a moment, then stilled himself.
"I designed it myself," he said. "Wanted something personal. From me."
The paper drifted to the floor and Adam stared at the box. "Is it jewellery?" he asked, thumb poised to push open the lid.
Tommy rested his palm on the back of Adam's hand, staying the movement. "I thought it was time I got you this," he said softly. "I think it's the right thing to do now, but if you don't want it, be honest and tell me, okay? I won't be mad if it's too much for you."
"You haven't managed to find my 'too much' yet," Adam said, eyes glittering with humour. He pecked another kiss to the tip of Tommy's nose, and that was when Tommy took his hand away and Adam prised open the box.
A long silence bloomed between them, filling the room. Tommy wanted to bite his lip, but if Adam accepted his present then a show of nerves would give out bad signals. No, Tommy had to be everything this gift promised he could be, so he just waited, calm and patient.
"Jesus Christ, Tommy," Adam whispered.
It was no good. The question had to be asked, since Adam wasn't volunteering anything other than wide eyes.
"Do you want it?" Tommy looked up at him.
"I..." Adam's pale gaze swivelled onto him, searching for something. Tommy met that gaze with one of calm control, and the moment lengthened between them into a minute before it clicked and Adam relaxed into it.
"Yes," he whispered. "I want it."
Tommy simply nodded. "Take it out of the box and give it to me, then."
He watched, noting the fine tremble of Adam's fingers as they lifted his delicate gift out, setting the box to one side on a table. Adam held the gift out to him, but Tommy didn't take it. Because that wasn't right. That wasn't the way it needed to be done, see.
A moment of uncertainty passed, Adam looking at him, lower lip snagged between his teeth. Tommy's expression was imperturbable; the very image of patience itself, because he knew Adam was a fast learner.
This much Adam proved a moment later as he dipped his gaze, lowered his head, and with the grace of a born dancer, slowly sank to his knees before holding up the gift with both hands.
Finally, finally, Tommy took the gift from Adam, stepping behind him and reaching back around him. Smooth, soft black leather kissed the shower-damp skin of Adam's throat and Tommy nodded his approval as he saw Adam's hands come together, clasping loosely behind him.
It was a perfect fit. Tommy had checked with Adam's tailor, requesting his neck size and relaying it to the creator of the gift. The strap folded through the silver buckle at Adam's nape, and Tommy's thumb caressed the metal that bore his initials. His mark. His claim, strapped and buckled around Adam's neck.
"Good boy," he soothed, resting his hand on the top of Adam's bowed head.
And the game moved on to the next level.
Gen band!fic - unprompted by Anon (A/N for crazedenchilada 's prompt "tour bus breaks down")
The first problem is that the bus breaks down.
The second problem is that it disappears.
Except it could be the other way around, actually, like one of insolvable-paradox problems that Neil gets out of the, like, New York Times, and leaves lying around half-finished because he knows it drives Adam crazy when he can’t solve something.
“The first problem was coming to a club where they serve green drinks,” Monte says, coming up next to him.
“The first problem was coming to a club where the walls are spinning.” Tommy looks almost as green as his drink. Also the walls aren’t actually spinning. Adam is pretty sure the walls aren’t actually spinning.
LP tucks his drumsticks under one arm and steadies Tommy with the other. “This reminds me of this one time in Berlin,” he says.
This one time in Berlin, what? Adam wants to say. This one time in Berlin you got mugged? This one time in Berlin you stayed out all night and had incredible sex and woke up under the stars on a rooftop? This one time in Berlin you lost all your money in a bet and had to sleep with a one-handed trucker to catch a ride back to your bus? It could be anything. LP never finishes his stories, just like he never gets more than half-dressed or moderately annoyed. Adam’s not sure if this makes him more or less interesting.
Everyone’s gathered together now, Monte and LP and Tommy and Sasha and Terence. “Okay, let’s go outside,” Adam says calmly. “Sasha, why don’t you lead the way.” It’s good to delegate leadership. Also, he’s not entirely sure where the door is. There’s definitely something weird going on with the walls and the lighting. And possibly with his head.
The night air feels good against his face, heavy and damp and dark. There are streetlights and stars, out, and Tommy tips his head back and breathes deep. Watching him, Adam remembers being on stage, just a few hours ago. It seems like this, right here, is what Tommy’s been doing all along, and what Adam’s been trying to do, except he keeps getting caught up in it, that feeling of too much and too big and overwhelmed. The boots he's wearing are gorgeous--studded leather with a badass heel--but he kind of wants to take them off. There’s grass all along the road, right up to the bench outside the bus stop, and it looks soft.
Monte touches his shoulder. “I talked to Neil. They had to tow the bus to a shop, that’s why it’s gone. It’ll be tough to catch a cab in this town, but he’ll send a car eventually, or we can try to get a public bus.” Adam’s willing to bet Neil said some more choice things than that, but Monte’s good at knowing what Adam can and can’t handle at any given moment, and always has been. The thing about Monte is, it kind of seems like he always will be, too, but that’s probably naïve.
The bus stop is only a few hundred feet away, and Adam’s leaning on LP and half-carrying Tommy by the time they get there.
Sasha’s the only one who doesn’t collapse onto the bench. “So, what? Are we hitching?
Terence reaches over and taps his knee. “Yeah, Adam, you’re famous now, work that ass. Someone’s bound to stop.”
“My money’s on Tommy, actually,” Sasha says, and Terence laughs.
“Shut up.” Tommy frowns, mock tough-guy.
Then he turns toward Adam and presses his face into his neck. “It’s true though,” he says in a stage whisper. “Cars always stop for me.”
Adam smiles a little and tousles his hair affectionately. “I’ll bet.”
Tommy puts his arms around Adam’s neck, settling in, and everyone slides together to fit on the bench. Adam puts his head on LP’s shoulder. He can feel Terence’s hand, warm, resting on his other knee, and the pinpricks of stars and shooting stars and the world around them, crickets and traffic and far-off voices like a symphony.
“So what happened in Berlin?” Adam says to LP, eventually.
“Oh.” LP shifts a little, carefully so as not to jostle Adam or Sasha. “Well, it turned out pretty much like my dad said it would.”
Someone-Monte?-laughs, soft, and Adam smiles too.
It’s no more of an ending, really, but they’re at the beginning of everything, anyway.