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"It'll be so romantic!"
Except Tommy didn't DO romantic. Except Adam DID. And that fact swayed Tommy into agreeing to a lot of things that he wouldn't normally agree to. Like accompanying Adam to a modeling trip in Europe. Adam was between albums, and honestly needed a break. Also, after years of working out and eating what Tommy liked to refer to as "rabbit food", Adam was looking like a Greek god. So, in order to celebrate his new body, and get some great promotional pictures, Adam's manager had suggested he do a little modeling. In ITALY. Adam had been apprehensive at first, but when he'd started to look at some of the sights in Italy, he'd become more and more excited. And then, of course, he'd decided Tommy needed to come!
"It'll be so romantic!"
Tommy wanted a break. Tommy wanted to sit on the couch and watch all his favorite horror movies. But when Adam looked at him with those ocean-deep eyes, chewing ever so slightly on his bottom lip, drawing Tommy's attention to the hidden freckles there, Tommy just couldn't say no.
And so, here Tommy was, two weeks into the trip, sitting at the bar of the club Adam was currently taking pictures in, frustrated as fuck. Actually, "frustrated as fuck" didn't describe it all all because he hadn't been fucked at all in those two weeks. They were staying in a beautiful suite that Tommy was sure Adam planned on using, until they got to Italy. The moment the plane landed, Adam had been whisked away by all the photographers and makeup artists and everyone else who needed him. One of them had even tried to stop Tommy from walking onto the set of a shoot, telling him that it was a "private event" and that "fans and reporters" weren't allowed. Tommy had stood to his full 5'8" and puffed up like the cat Adam always said he was, about to let loose on the guy before one of the staff recognized him and instructed the guard to let "Mr. Lambert's friend" onto set. That had become his reality, sitting at a bar in a beautiful foreign country he hadn't even wanted to be in, un-fucked due to Adam's exhaustion everyday, reduced to his "friend".
Tommy downed the last of the whiskey he'd ordered at the bar and glanced both longingly and hatefully in the direction of the shoot. The building interior was beautiful, very rustic and edgy, and Adam was working it like he always did. Tommy knew him well enough to know that he was still a little uncomfortable with his body, and that this was important to him, important for him to celebrate his hard work. So, when he glanced at Tommy, the blonde offered him an easy, encouraging smile. That got him the crooked, sassy lip curl Adam was so accustomed to and Tommy was so fond of. The singer turned back to the cameras and Tommy let his shoulders drop a bit, sighing as he turned to look at the empty glass in his hands.
"You don't look like you're having much fun," the bartender commented, leaning an elbow on the counter and looking down at Tommy. He was a handsome man, not as handsome as Adam (really, who was?), but still Tommy could appreciate his soft green eyes and gentle smile. And he was SO gay.
"I'm having fun," Tommy argued, even though the words sounded false even to him. "Adam's killing it." At least that was true. Because pairing a lie with the truth made it sound more plausible, right? He pushed the hair out of his face, only to immediately shake it back down. That was a pattern for him. Hair out of eyes. Hair in eyes. Open. Hiding. Open. Hiding. Story of his life.
"That is true, but the first part wasn't." Damn. "What's wrong, cutie?" Tommy had also figured out about an hour ago that this bartender was a catcher, not a pitcher, so he didn't mind talking to him. Not that Tommy had to be a catcher but... nope, not having that mental monologue today.
Tommy sighed. "It's beautiful here. And Adam is having so much fun. And this is so good for him. But he's just so tired every night and--"
"You're not getting laid in one of the most romantic cities in the world in what I assume is one of the most romantic hotels in the city?" the bartender filled in with a smile.
Tommy felt his cheeks light up with crimson and he shook his hair down again. Hiding. "Is it that obvious?"
"To someone who's been in the same position. Here." The bartender ducked beneath the counter, only to come up with a small packet containing two white pills. "Try this. It's similar to Viagra. You said he's tired, right? This will wake him right up." His green eyes twinkled as his lips pulled up in a devilish grin. "This will wake up every part of him. Every primitive instinct he has."
Tommy felt a throb low in his stomach at the memory of the last time Adam had gotten wild with him. Tommy had just gotten a new pair of skinny jeans that were a little too tight. The jeans (sadly) hadn't lasted the night, but at the time, Tommy hadn't cared. He hadn't been able to walk right for days after Adam was finished with him. Just the way he liked it.
Tommy pursed his lips. He and Adam had tried drugs, that wasn't the problem, but Adam had been so exhausted lately that Tommy was pretty sure he wouldn't volunteer to take it. The bartender smirked and whispered, "just put it in his coffee or something. He won't know the difference. But you will."
And that was how Tommy ended up slipping a pill into Adam's tea a couple mornings later. Tea, coffee, Tommy sure as hell knew the difference between the two, being an avid coffee lover himself, but he figured the principle was the same. The photoshoot the night before had gone late into the night, and luckily their next one wasn't until that afternoon, so they had a few moments. Adam had stated he'd been too tired to do anything, as always, and had suggested they go out to a local coffee shop.
Adam sat back down from getting a cup of yogurt, the healthy bastard, and pushed Tommy's pastry across the table to him. "You should really eat something with some protein," he commented, giving Tommy that reprimanding look that he always used but never amounted to anything.
"I intend to," Tommy murmured under his breath before taking a swig of his own drink. Coffee, strong and black, just the way he liked it. He nearly groaned when the taste hit his tongue. In Tommy's opinion, good coffee was almost as good as sex. Except sex with Adam. Nothing was as good as sex with Adam.
Said singer, having not heard what Tommy said, took a long swig of his tea. Tommy watched him down the liquid and felt a brief flash of worry that this wasn't going to work, or something was going to go wrong. But then he watched Adam's throat as he swallowed and thought of that throat swallowing around him and fuck, he didn't care anymore.
Tommy didn't know how quickly the pill would work, and he started to think of ways to get Adam out of the coffee shop and back to their hotel. Yeah, so he should have thought of that before he slipped the pill in his drink, but Tommy didn't always think things through. He chewed on his bottom lip as he thought, distracted until fingers suddenly brushed his golden locks out of his face.
"You're hiding again," Adam murmured. "I thought we'd agreed you'd never hide from me?"
Tommy's breathing hitched. "Who said I was hiding from you?" But he'd heard it, that low tone in Adam's voice that the singer always used when he was thinking of giving Tommy an order. Or when Tommy had been bad. And Tommy had been so, so bad, even if Adam didn't know it. Tommy glanced up, his caramel eyes meeting Adam's and he would have sworn those blue eyes were swirling with magic. Dark magic, that is. Adam was always an angel... but sometimes he was the one that fell.
Adam's eyes softened, framed by those thick dark lashes, as he traced his fingertips down Tommy's cheek and across his jawline. Those freckled lips, coated in a gentle gloss, parted a bit as his eyes followed his fingers. Tommy suddenly felt tension in the air, like the tension in a bow before it snaps and the lethal arrow in shot. He jerked back just as Adam jerked forward, unable to decide if he'd moved and Adam had chased, or if Adam had lunged and he'd fled. Their quick movements had bumped the table and Tommy's coffee mug was thrown, covering him in a dark liquid that was SO not going to come out of his light grey skinnies. He was just glad the coffee hadn't been burning hot anymore.
"Motherfu--" His words were cut off as Adam grabbed his arm and yanked him towards the bathrooms. Tommy yelped in protest and tried not to fall, but Adam was pretty much dragging him backwards in that position and didn't seem to care. Tommy tripped over his creepers and had a moment of regret for putting THOSE on that morning. "Adam!"
"You're covered in coffee," Adam said, his voice calm on the surface. But Tommy knew him well enough to know it was just Adam's "decision voice". As in Adam had made the decision to do whatever he was about to do, knew he shouldn't, and didn't give a flying rat's ass. "We need to clean you up." He dragged Tommy into the bathroom, which was really just one stall, and yanked him in front of him.
"Adam!" Tommy protested again. "What the fuck?!" It had been liked five minutes since Adam had that stupid drug. He'd heard of fast-acting drugs but this was ridiculous! He let out a small squeal when Adam yanked his coffee-stained shirt up and over his head.
"This is dirty," Adam said smoothly. "We need to get it off you."
"We're in a coffee shop!" Tommy hissed. "We'll be heard!" Because grinding against Adam on stage was one thing, but having sex in public in a random coffee shop in Italy was another.
Tommy gagged a bit as Adam shoved the very shirt in his mouth. "Then you should be quieter, shouldn't you?" he whispered in a low voice that sent shivers down Tommy's spine and made his toes curl. The taste of the coffee on his shirt was bitter against his tongue. His eyes were wide as they stared up at Adam because FUCK, Adam was really going to do this. Adam pushed the cloth in his mouth just a bit deeper. "Shouldn't you, Tommy Joe?" And there it was, that nickname, and the way Adam said it. And now Tommy was grateful that Adam was pulling his pants off because he was so fucking hard he was pretty sure he'd never get soft again, and those pants were way too fucking tight.
The pants didn't make it all the way off, either, just off enough. Then Adam flipped him around and bent him over the sink, making a noise behind Tommy that was too primitive to be called a moan. Tommy heard him suck his fingers into his mouth, wetting them before pushing two into Tommy's ass. It was fast, too fast, especially when Tommy hadn't been taken in over two weeks. Except it was also exactly what Tommy needed and he couldn't help but bend farther and spread his legs wider. Adam's fingers fucked him open quickly, too frantic to be gentle and loving, and that was alright because Tommy needed Adam's cock in him now.
And then the fingers were pulled out and MOTHERFUCKINGFUCKYES Adam was pushing into him and that was what he needed. Tommy's eyes rolled back so far in his head he wondered if he'd actually see the brain that had accepted this crazy idea and a moan came out of him that was just barely stifled by the shirt in his mouth.
Adam made that rough noise again that Tommy loved and growled, "fuck, Tommy Joe, you're so tight. You didn't finger yourself or use toys all this time, did you, pretty kitty? You waited for me to fill you." He caught Tommy by the hair on the back of his head and leaned down to bit at the taut flesh on the back of his neck. "My good kitty, waiting for me."
Tommy'd never admit what Adam's dominance did to him, not out loud, anyway, but his cock jumped at the words. Adam usually called him "Tommy" on a day-to-day basis, when they were off stage, just the two of them. But something about Adam saying "Tommy Joe" just did things to the guitarist and based on how Adam used the nickname, the bastard knew. "Pretty kitty" was not quite as potent, but it was still one of Tommy's favorite things to hear rolling off Adam's tongue when Adam got like this.
And then all coherent thought was gone because Adam was moving, and not slowly. He was pounding into Tommy, pulling out so just the tip of him was inside Tommy and then shoving in to the hilt, over and over again. Tommy felt every inch Adam had, and the man was not lacking for inches. This was not going to be slow and easy. This was going to be what the two of them needed, what their bodies needed, right here, right now. Adam hiked one elbow under Tommy's knee and pulled his foot up to rest on the toilet seat, slipping it out of the skinny jeans. Normally, Tommy had to struggle to get the damn things off at the end of the day, but Adam seemed to possess some sort of magic today and how he got Tommy's foot out so easily, the blonde didn't give a damn. The new angle let Adam in just that fraction deeper, and his head brushed against Tommy's prostate, sending a scream up Tommy's throat that was definitely not adequately muffled by the shirt. Tommy kept one hand on the sink to steady himself as he reached down to begin jacking himself off. That is, until Adam slapped his hand away.
"No. You're going to come just from my cock, Tommy Joe," Adam purred. He grabbed Tommy by the hair at the back of his head again and pulled his head back and fuck if that didn't almost make Tommy come right there. Tommy loved it when Adam pulled his hair, which was blatantly obvious on stage, so everyone knew that. Adam shifted his position and now his cock was hitting Tommy's prostate with every thrust and holy fucking hell Tommy nearly blacked out. Before he knew it, he was making ungodly noises into the cloth in his mouth as his seed shot out, coating the mirror in front of him. He felt his body tighten around Adam until it was almost painful and yet just right and fuck yes. Adam made a strangled noise behind him and his hips lost their rhythm as he filled Tommy with his own cum.
The spike of pain in Tommy's ass as Adam detangled them let him know that he'd be feeling that for a couple days at least. He pulled the shirt out of his mouth with a gasp and looked over at Adam, still holding onto the sink for support. He watched the pleasure wash over Adam and slowly ebb away, as sure as his own pleasure was, until both of them could think straight again. Adam's brows began to knit together and Tommy knew he was starting to wonder what the fuck had happened, now that he could think again.
Mind spinning, Tommy threw his own clothing back on and pulled up Adam's pants, earning a surprised grunt from the singer. Tommy glanced back at himself in the mirror, only to look at the smear of cum that was on it, and not his own reflection. Adam opened his mouth to begin asking questions when Tommy grabbed his wrist and started dragging him out. "We gotta go, Adam!"
Baffled, post-orgasmic Adam stumbled after him, obviously very confused as they ran through the coffee shop and Tommy tried to ignore the looks. Just as they were going through the door, someone yelled,
"Fucking Americans!"
And damn, Tommy remember he had another pill left...