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Glam Kink Meme Post #1

The Glam Kink Meme Post #1 is now open.

Have fun prompting, writing, reading, and feedbacking. :)

ETA: All prompts are listed here.

ETA2: All filled prompts are archived here.

ETA3 This post is now CLOSED to new prompts.

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Page 156 of 311
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valress
Oct. 8th, 2010 01:37 am (UTC)
Re: Want Your Hex 4/??
OHH MY GODDDDDDDDDD!!! Need More!!! *F5F5F5F5* *grabbyhands*
(Anonymous)
Oct. 8th, 2010 01:48 am (UTC)
Adam/Tommy/Isaac threesome. PWP. PwithP IDGAF. It would be presh, and hot. SOMEONE MAKE IT HAPPEN, PLEASE?
(Anonymous)
Oct. 8th, 2010 03:09 am (UTC)
Adam/anyone
http://twitpic.com/2vk6tm


You fill in the rest.
(Anonymous)
Oct. 8th, 2010 03:56 am (UTC)
Adam/Tommy, ~recruiting
Tommy's straight. He just really, really likes kissing Adam. At least until he decides if Adam's that good a kisser, maybe he should see what he's missing out on.
(Anonymous)
Oct. 8th, 2010 04:17 am (UTC)
Want Your Hex: Author's Note
I live in a central city Adam's visited. The layout of the city as described, along with the weather (bizarre though it is), are accurate to one of his northeast tour stops. Just a note for anyone who thinks I'm making this shit up: last year brought us (accumulated) snow on 15 October, and we've been known to have drops in temperature from 72 to 29 in the course of six hours under some circumstances. Crazy, but true.

Enjoy.
(Anonymous)
Oct. 8th, 2010 04:18 am (UTC)
Want Your Hex: 5/??
He doesn't think he's knocking.

He can feel wood under his fingers, but—

“Adam! Yo!”


Adam rolls over, and it's still dark outside but that had to be one hell of a sleep, because even though it's only—he glances at the clock on the nightstand—five in the morning, he feels like he slept all night and most of the day. He feels something press against his fingers, and then his phone beeps.

its tommy open up if ur awake would u?

Adam glances again at the clock and the sky outside. Then he swings his legs off the bed and sends a reply.

2min

It doesn't take him even that long to locate a pair of bottoms and pull them on, and finally he pads to the door and opens it. Tommy's in the hall dancing like he's either got to piss or just magically turned back time to ten years old.

“You okay?” Adam asks, trying to think of a reason Tommy would do this that doesn't involve an emergency and failing. Tommy nods as he slides past Adam and pulls open the curtains. Adam feels fabric slide over his fingers.

“Adam. Look.”

Adam complies; he doesn't understand how this is possible, but he thinks he knows what it is now. Then he sees what Tommy wants him to look at, and all thoughts of the fabric Adam feels in Tommy's hand are forgotten as he stares.

“But—it's October?” he finally manages. Tommy's shoulder presses against his arm as Tommy peers out around the curtain along with him.

“I know. Neil said last night there was a chance of snow, but . . . “

“I guess this is what he was talking about when he said 'snowbelt',” Adam murmurs, staring, transfixed. He was fourteen the first time he remembers seeing snow, and for the people who live here it might be no big deal (except for the people who are going to have to shovel in a couple of hours), but Adam's totally charmed by the idea of an October snowstorm. He looks at the park across the street, already so heavily dusted with snow that from this distance there's no grass to be seen, and leans over to speak into Tommy's ear—something about looking out by the light of a single streetlamp across a nearly-deserted street, just a couple of early workers walking through the swirling white flakes, suggests Adam whisper.

“You know, we could go out,” he suggests. “Nobody else is up.”

“I don't have a jacket,” Tommy points out, and oh yeah, they didn't have the chance to find somewhere here that sells them, Adam remembers. Then he glances at his suitcase.

“No problem. You've got a hoodie with you, don't you?” he asks, and Tommy nods. “Go grab it. I might have something you can toss on.”

Adam slides into the heaviest pair of jeans he owns while Tommy's gone, trying to ignore the feel of a doorknob that isn't his and fabric that isn't the kind he wears; somewhere down the hall, he knows, Tommy's going through his stuff, looking for the hoodie. Then there's a door handle in Adam's hand again, and he pokes his head out his own door so Tommy doesn't have to knock. Tommy slides in, and Adam hands him a sweatshirt with “GRAND FALLS FLAGSTAFF AZ” splashed across the front.

“It's from my mom,” he says, before Tommy can crack wise about Adam buying tourist sweatshirts. “It's actually pretty warm.”

Tommy pulls the sweatshirt over his head, and Adam feels it slide past Tommy's face, soft and (this he knows, although whatever weird experience it is he's having doesn't seem to extend to scent) still smelling of the patchouli Adam has zipped in his duffel bag. The sleeves fall comically all the way past Tommy's knees, the armholes too wide to even catch on his hands when he tries to shove them back up, and Adam reaches out to cuff them. His fingers brush Tommy's when he tucks the end of the sleeve into itself, and Adam feels the ghosts of his own fingers just behind his nails.

“Ready?” he asks, concentrating very hard on not blushing when a memory of last night flashes through his head and he realises suddenly whose hand wasn't on his cock while he was in the shower. Tommy nods and smiles, the kind of smile he almost never offers, and Adam feels his stomach do a slow flip while he shoves his hands into the nearest pair of gloves and grabs his keycard.

“Let's go,” he says.
glamneko
Oct. 8th, 2010 04:54 am (UTC)
Re: Want Your Hex: 5/??
O.O transfixed....need....more.....
etharei
Oct. 8th, 2010 06:22 am (UTC)
Re: Want Your Hex: 5/??
:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

I'm kinda of a tactile person in the right circumstances, so I REALLY, REALLY LOVE the idea behind this prompt, and I'm sooo happy that you've chosen to focus on the sensations the way you have (rather than, say, the weirdness itself). I think that Adam (and probably Tommy) is a tactile person, too, so I can see this affecting him just like you described. Can't wait to see what comes next!

Also, thanks for making UNEXPECTED SNOW so magical ♥
(Anonymous)
Oct. 8th, 2010 08:42 am (UTC)
Want Your Hex: 6/??
The snow is easily an inch thick on the ground when they step into it, still swirling down not in flakes but in huge, dizzying clumps. Adam sticks out his tongue to try and catch one.

“Works better like this,” Tommy tells him, and tips his head backward, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue. “Aaah.”

Adam gives him a playful shove in the side and staggers when his own phantom elbow sticks him in the ribs. Tommy tries to catch him and they both go sliding, laughing when they nearly go ass over teakettle. Adam grabs Tommy's hand before they can fall against a trashcan and feels warmth fold over the exposed fingers of his own left hand. Tommy crashes into his chest, and there's a phantom thump on Adam's forehead where Tommy ran into his collarbone.

“Should we try this again?” he manages, and Tommy nods, taking a single suspicious step, not letting go of Adam's hand. Adam follows him, and they make their way to the crosswalk and across the street holding each other up like a pair of drunks.

“Hang on, there's a trick to this,” Tommy says. “I went on this class trip to Colorado once.” He takes half a dozen steps, and Adam's about to ask how he's pulling that off when Tommy steps on an unexpected patch of half-frozen water and goes straight onto his ass. Adam winces.

“You okay?” he asks, hauling Tommy off the ground, and Tommy nods. “I felt that.” Adam wishes it were still a metaphor.

They get into the park, snow still covering all the sidewalks and dusting the various memorials, and then it's Adam's turn to bust his ass when he steps into the grass. He tries to grab Tommy's arm for support and instead only manages to pull him along.

“Man, you act like you've never been in wet snow in your life,” Tommy comments, brushing snow off his ass as he pulls himself to his feet. It takes Adam a little longer, not least because Tommy's is one hand he never expected to feel on his own backside.

“I haven't,” he finally manages, and Tommy stops his scramble to stare.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Adam agrees, planting his feet before he can fall again. “There was snow in Berlin, but not like this.” It occurs to him that a single call could bring the entire crew out here to play, and he glances at Tommy's face and decides his phone can stay in his pocket. It's probably a bad idea, he's probably setting himself up for serious heartbreak, but if he can actually stay on the level of just enjoying that he has a particularly good-looking bassist for a friend, he should be okay. Right. Tommy's not concerned with Adam's cogitations, though.

“So you've never, like . . . done anything in the snow?” he asks, and Adam shakes his head.

“Nope.”

The look on Tommy's face goes from bewildered to devilish before Adam can even react, and then his fingers are freezing and something equally freezing goes down the back of his shirt. Adam yells as a handful of snow melts down his back.

“Man—!” he tries to get out, and then—because Tommy shouldn't be able to look so smug while he's laughing—he grabs a handful of snow of his own and throws it. Adam's aim is good, and Tommy lets out a shocked “oof” when the chunk of snow hits him in the stomach.

“Hey!”

Adam starts laughing; that was nothing. “It didn't hurt you!” he calls (and he would know, wouldn't he), and then they're sliding in the snow, not just throwing it like a pair of kids in a snowball fight but shoving it down each others' shirts, Tommy rubbing snow in Adam's hair while Adam first slides a foot backward and then dances off to the side.

Tommy goes flailing and catches Adam's sleeve. Tommy hits a patch of snow-covered dirt, and before Adam can recover he hits Tommy and knocks the wind right out of him. Adam knows it happened, because suddenly he can't breathe either, and not just because of the impact; he can feel Tommy beneath him but also over him, and instead of the snow that should be under his hands he feels leather—Tommy's hands on his shoulders—and then he realises “my phone” will only carry him so far, because he knows what it is Tommy's feeling (for more than one reason), and Adam pushes himself off to one side so he can at least try to catch his breath. Tommy shoves himself up out of the snow.

“You okay?”
(Anonymous)
Oct. 8th, 2010 08:43 am (UTC)
Want Your Hex: 7/??
Adam nods and finally turns to smile at Tommy, assure him it's nothing, but then Tommy puts a hand on Adam's shoulder and whatever Adam planned to say flies right out of his head. Instead they're left staring at each other in a sudden silence, and Adam can feel himself leaning over, can feel his own breath on Tommy's lips even as he's thinking bad idea bad idea badideabadideaBADIDEA—

“What the hell are you two doing out here?” Neil's voice demands, and some small, quickly-ignored part of Adam is incredibly relieved to note he's not the only one jerking backward.

“Having a snowball fight, you have a problem with that?” Tommy asks. Neil stares suspiciously at the pair of them, and Adam tries his hardest to look like he wasn't about to french his bassist in the middle of a city park while the snow soaks through their jeans and Tommy's borrowed sweatshirt. It doesn't help that Adam doesn't need some weird biofeedback for his brain to run off merrily on its own sidetrack and imagine of its own volition what it would be like to simply lay back in the snow and feel it melt under them, leaving the shapes of their bodies one next to the other—

Adam shakes his head, and Neil fixes him with a glare to rival a basilisk. “At all? Jesus wept, Adam, I told you to sleep—“

“I did,” Adam interrupts. “I had this great idea and missed what you said, I'm sorry.” And it is a great idea, or at least, his cock thinks it is. Neil rolls his eyes.

“I asked if you slept if you were out here so early.”

“Yeah. I feel great, actually,” Adam says, and it must show in his face that he's not even half-truthing on this one, because Neil's glare softens a little. Adam pulls himself to his feet and holds out a hand to Tommy. “I think I'm just going to skip the Red Bull today. I'm pretty sure I just had an energy crash last night. I'm okay now.”

Neil's still giving him the look, but finally he gives up and nods back in the direction of the hotel. “Come on. You two jackasses are soaked.”

Adam's suddenly aware that coat or no coat, he's freezing, and when he glances to his left he realises that even the sweatshirt on top of the hoodie couldn't keep Tommy waterproof forever. Now that they're not horsing around, Tommy's a skinny guy in a soaked, probably freezing top.

Tommy follows Adam instead of heading to his own room, and Adam rifles quickly through his stuff for a clean T-shirt. “Here,” he says, and tosses it at Tommy. “Get changed before you get pneumonia.”

He's not quite expecting Tommy to strip down right there, and Adam decides to take shelter in the bathroom, getting back into his abandoned pyjama bottoms and a T-shirt of his own before peeking out to see if Tommy's there. He's gone, though, probably in search of something to throw on that's not Adam's T-shirt. Adam throws Tommy's sodden clothes over the shower-curtain rod and grabs his phone to plug in his earbuds. After all that, he needs to chill.

Adam doesn't know how long he's on the bed—at first he thinks it's no more than a few minutes, but when he feels Tommy knock on the door and goes to answer it he realises Tommy just woke up from a nap, if his eyes are telling the truth. He's still in Adam's shirt, which is so far too big on him he could belt it and call it a dress if he really wanted to, and Adam feels something in his innards start doing very funny shit when he realises Tommy was napping in his shirt and possibly nothing else.

“Yeah?” he gets out, and Tommy nods down the hallway.

“Breakfast.”

Adam nods. Washing his face in cold water is definitely in order before he goes out. “I'll be down in five.”

Tommy nods and pads off, and Adam goes to splash his face and calm down while he slides on the two or three rings he bothered taking off last night. On its own this morning would have been okay, he thinks, but so much of what happened was so surreal his brain is still trying to catch up with it, much less process it.

Still. He needs breakfast.

It's going to be a long day.
etharei
Oct. 8th, 2010 09:06 am (UTC)
Re: Want Your Hex: 7/??
While I'm in PAIN at how you're SUCH A TEASE, I'm also really glad that you're taking your time with this. Fics that let the tension grow and build naturally are the ones that are the most amazing and real-feeling, for me, so I'm happy you're letting this fic do that. The ADVENTURS IN SNOW was hilarious, their friendship is one of my favorite things about them, and the almost-kiss was hottt.

MOAR PLZ ♥
(Anonymous)
Oct. 8th, 2010 10:40 am (UTC)
Want Your Hex: 8/??
“Okay!” Brooke calls. “Adam—Adam!

Adam turns, trying not to feel guitar strings under his fingers. “Yeah?”

“I want to take a look at 'Fever',” she says. “I'm not liking the way it looked when I watched the playback and I'd like you to look a little more like you're actually playing the bass, not trapping Tommy with it.”

“Hey, some chicks think that's hot,” Tommy calls across the stage. Brooke puts her hands on her hips.

“Some chicks may think it's hot, Tommy Joe Ratliff, but this chick is the one telling you to get your skinny little ass to your spike or I'm going to nail it there.”

Tommy heads for his spike, and Adam follows suit, giving Brooke a thumbs-up to show he's listening when she calls out. “I want to see what happens if I put you two on the stairs so you don't have this huge proscenium pressing down on you.”

Adam nods and heads back to his spike while Brooke calls directions to Tommy. Brooke calls the cue, and Adam goes, stopping halfway down and watching Tommy come up. Brooke calls up to the booth to stop the track.

“I'm changing your spike to Platform Two if you can get up there during the blackout,” Brooke calls up to Tommy, who nods and heads up to the platform. Brooke calls the cue again. This time Adam counts off and steps onto the platform about two-thirds of the way down the staircase on “tic-tac-toe,” and Brooke calls out a “good! Keep going!” while Adam gets behind Tommy and reaches for the bass. He reminds himself that when Tommy lets go Adam won't be able to feel the strings anymore, and lets Tommy put the neck in his hand.

Then Tommy rolls his hips backward, and everything goes to hell.

To anyone in the audience, Adam knows it'll look great. The problem is Tommy's ass against his front, which also feels like Adam's front against his back. Tommy hits the platform on his knees, but his fingers glance off the bass as it crashes down, and Adam doesn't need to see it to know what he just did: busted it all to hell.

Brooke's running for the stage, Monte darting across the platform, but other than his heart drumming in his ears and a sting in his fingers where Tommy's bleeding from a torn fingernail, Adam doesn't feel like he's ever going to move again. Everyone's going to know he's flipped his shit, and nobody's going to believe he hasn't. He finally manages to ask Tommy if he's okay, but his voice sounds like it's coming from the far end of a wind tunnel, and before Tommy can answer Brooke is next to them asking Adam what the hell happened.

“It was my fault. I rushed the pass,” Tommy says, and Adam tries not to gape. “Probably a bad grip.” He looks at his finger. “Shit.”

Brooke checks out his hand. “Monte, can you grab the first-aid kit?” she asks, and Monte heads off while Adam gets on one knee next to Tommy.

“We're gonna have to do a sound recheck after I hook up the other one,” Tommy's saying, and Adam feels the need to spit out an “I'm sorry.” Tommy shrugs.

“We've got an amp for the other one, 19 can deal,” Tommy says. “We're way better to the equipment than a lot of guys would be. It's not the end of the world. If it was my bass, I might have to kick your ass.”

Adam considers saying you did, Tommy, that's why I dropped it and doesn't. Instead he moves aside for Monte to take care of Tommy, and then Brooke practically drags him down the stairs and into the wings.

“Adam, what's going on with you?” she asks. His fingers are burning—Monte must be using alcohol pads—and for a second he can't answer. Finally he shrugs and sighs and shakes his head.

“Just need vacation, I guess,” he says. “Tomorrow needs to get here.”

“Are you sure?” she presses, and Adam nods.

“Pretty sure, yeah. Give me a couple days to chill and I'll be good.” He tries to add a smile, but part of him is still seeing what might have happened if Tommy'd taken his dive just a little closer to the edge of that platform, and Brooke must see it in his face, because she finally reaches up to hug him.

“Just try to get through tonight,” she says into his ear, and he nods. “If we really need to work on any of this we can do it when we get back.”

If we really need to work on any of this: Adam decides not to tell her that's exactly what he's afraid of.
etharei
Oct. 8th, 2010 11:23 am (UTC)
Re: Want Your Hex: 8/??
YOU TEEEEEAAAASSSEEE.

Though omg ouch, poor Tommy. I once sprained my arm during drama class so I'm doubly paranoid about onstage accidents. I feel kinda sorry for Adam now, trying to keep it together and not let on what's bothering him. I'm sure it's really disorienting to experience sensation where, logically, you shouldn't be experiencing it. IT'S NOT JUST SEX AND RAINBOWS.
0o_blues_o0
Oct. 8th, 2010 01:15 pm (UTC)
Adam/Tommy
Adam's 5 different ways of smiling that only Tommy can distinguish, and Tommy's 5 different emotions behind the :| face that only Adam can see through.

Simply I just need something cute and fluffy :D
(Anonymous)
Oct. 8th, 2010 04:51 pm (UTC)
Oh, I like this idea! Someone write it please.
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