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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.

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ETA3 This post is now CLOSED to new prompts.

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Page 203 of 311
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Nov. 9th, 2010 06:43 am (UTC)
Re: Adam+Tommy... potentially. Porny dare
Nov. 9th, 2010 07:30 am (UTC)
Here In The Dark, 33a/30something
[AN: Recommended Listening: Love Is The Groove by Cher.]

Another gig, another Nokia.

And it feels right, Tommy thinks, as Neil takes his picture in the mirror. Appropriate.

It all started at the Nokia. And now here they are again, at the end of the tour, the beginning of a promise he made a few weeks and a total lifetime ago.

"Okay, Mr. Fancy-Pants Camera Man, hand over the camera," Sasha demands, and Tommy laughs as he finishes his lipstick and Sasha and Neil vie for photographic domination.

"If any of this ends up on Twitter, Sasha, I swear to god—"

"Converting again?" Sasha asks, and as she gets the camera away Tommy raises his phone and snaps a picture.

"It will, I promise," Tommy says, and before Neil can take his phone and kill it dead Adam wanders in.

"Hey guys, can I have a minute?"

They gather, all of them, in the greenroom, and Adam asks them to stand in a circle. Then he crosses his arms, left over right, and holds out his hands to Mike the sound guy on his left and Monte on his right. Across the circle Neil crosses his arms the same way, and the rest of the group, from tech crew to performers, follow their suit until they're all linked, holding hands in a giant chain. Adam looks around, then down, then up again.

"This last six months have been the most amazing in my entire life," he says at last. "And none of it would have been possible without all of you being here and I'm pretty sure I have the best crew in the world, because you guys are incredible, and I'm so lucky I have all of you."

"Oh, no no no no, uh-uh, sugarboy," Sasha interrupts. "It's us who're the lucky ones, babydoll."

Adam doesn't quite blush when Taylor and Cam and Isaac chime in, but Tommy can see him wanting to; a year into it all and he's still not ready for the compliments, Tommy thinks, and he wants suddenly to pull Adam into his arms and find for himself Adam's incredible gift with words so he can explain exactly why Sasha's right, they are the lucky ones, in terms Adam can't argue with. Finally Adam bows his head a little, and they all quiet at once.

"I hope we're all here for the next tour, unless some of us—" and he shoots a playful glance in Monte's direction, in Cam's—"get super-awesome record deals and end up doing other tours or invitations to dance for Gaga or something, but even if you're not here because you're doing something else, I want all you guys to know you can call me anytime for anything, if you need help or you just want to hang or . . . you know, whatever," he says; for once, even Adam is fumbling a little for words. "We're family. And we're gonna go out there tonight and we're gonna show them what that really means, right?"

Tommy smiles at him across the circle and joins in the general chorus of affirmatives. He feels Brooke squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back. It's going to be fucking amazing to sleep in a normal bed in a normal flat and not have to check his phone to figure out what timezone he's in every single day.

And he's going to miss the hotel beds and tour buses and jetlag so fucking much he can hardly believe it.

"There was this saying in the theatre group Neil and I were in when we were kids," Adam finishes up. "It's kind of what I've been going for all this time. 'Give them love . . . '"

"'They'll give it back,'" Neil echoes from across the circle. "So let's blow the roof off this place."

"Don't forget the afterparties that're out there, I thought if we wanted to live on the edge tonight we could totally crash a couple of them," Adam says. "I've been saving them on Twitter and not saying anything."

Most of them laugh. Then they let go of each others' hands and there's a crush Tommy gets stuck in the middle of as everyone hugs and kisses and he's pretty sure a couple of them cry a little, too. Then he gets out of the press and finds Adam slipping quietly back to his dressing room.
Nov. 9th, 2010 07:31 am (UTC)
Here In The Dark, 33b/30something
"You okay?"

Adam nods. "It's just . . . crazy, that's all," he answers. "Crazy and kind of scary. Tomorrow I'm going to be waking up in a fucking house. And then I get to marinate for a couple of weeks and start writing."

"You go along in a horse and cart for a bunch of years and then you get picked up by a bullet train," Tommy comments, and Adam nods.

"Yeah. I thought I was prepared for it, but I'm getting the feeling you can't prepare yourself for it. You just have to grab on and hope you've got a good grip." He looks over at Tommy and smiles. "I'm glad you're here," he says, and the perfect naked honesty of it is enough to make Tommy want to look away. "I love you."

Tommy looks down at his nail polish. It's chipped, and he should really fill it in before the show, not that it'll matter if he doesn't play with a pick. Then he looks back up. "I love you too."

The kiss is quiet, and soft, and at least a little bit of comfort-taking on Adam's part, Tommy thinks. Then Adam's smiling at him again, and as Neil raps on the door and calls "Five minutes!" before moving on, Adam leans down and nestles in Tommy's hair.

"Thank you," he says, and Tommy can't really look up, so his "for what?" is kind of directed straight at Adam's neck, but it's clear enough to be heard.

"For giving me a chance," Adam tells him. Then he lets go and reaches for Tommy's hand. "One more time?"

And yeah, one more time. And forever.

"Just for this time around."
Nov. 9th, 2010 07:51 am (UTC)
Re: Here In The Dark, 33b/30something
Oh. My heart
Nov. 9th, 2010 08:03 am (UTC)
Adam/Tommy first time--bad sex
Preferably non-AU. Adam and Tommy's first time together ends up awkward as fuck. Bumping heads, accidentally biting too hard, hair getting caught, falling, awkward noises...stuff like that. Adam's famed sexual prowess completely fails this time, in an incredibly lulzy way, but it all turns out okay in the end.
Nov. 9th, 2010 08:13 am (UTC)
Re: Here In The Dark, 33b/30something

I kinda don't want to word-vomit all over this because it basically speaks for itself and also Adam covered it all. This has been such a pleasure to read, bb, and it's so bloody hard to do tourfic, so hats and all other clothing off to you for the amazing ride and giving me something to look forward to every day and for sharing your gift of writing with everyone. ILU ALWAYS ♥
Nov. 9th, 2010 08:51 am (UTC)
Re: Here In The Dark, 33b/30something
just....can't...eh....*sniffles* so good
Nov. 9th, 2010 08:53 am (UTC)
Re: Here In The Dark, 33b/30something
So beautiful. I love this so much. Thank you for writing it <3
Nov. 9th, 2010 10:12 am (UTC)
Re: Adam/Tommy/Neil
. . . . do I know you on Twitter? Because I swear to Godga I literally just mentioned this to someone over there YESTERDAY NIGHT.

And I'd totally do it, but I'm bad at actual porning.
Nov. 9th, 2010 10:37 am (UTC)
Re: Adam/Tommy/Neil
Haha. I'm @GlammyStephy so theres a big possibility. We've exchanged tweets and DMs a few times I believe.

I'm bad at porny stuff too, otherwise I'd possibly write it for myself XD
Nov. 9th, 2010 10:58 am (UTC)
Re: Here In The Dark, 33b/30something
aww this is such a perfect ending to a perfect story! I'm grinning so hard my face hurts :D Thank you *hugs*
Nov. 9th, 2010 11:01 am (UTC)
Re: Here In The Dark, 33b/30something
*hug* But why does everybody think it's overrrr just because I took away the question marks DDD: It's so not.
Nov. 9th, 2010 11:35 am (UTC)
Here In The Dark, 34/35(?)
[AN: Recommended Listening, Fever, by Adam Lambert, of course.]

A change is gonna come, Adam sang once. He's already confided to Tommy he's going to sing it again tonight—send the tour out with a serious bang.

As he plays his way through the costume change, Tommy's pretty sure the change is already here. He can feel it, strumming into him from every vibration of the bass strings, flowing his way from every fluid motion of the dancers, and yeah, maybe Adam is onto something with his talk about chi and sharing energy. It's like someone's turned the air into some kind of breathable, tasteless ether that he can feel moving and rippling against his bare hands and his arms through the cloth of his shirt.

And Adam's back, kneeling on the stage—well, that's new—singing Ring of Fire with his head thrown back and one leg beneath him just so, and Tommy thinks of Philadelphia, the last time they were together before tonight between Tommy moving and Adam being all over the fucking place for interviews, and he tilts his head down before anybody can see the shit-eating grin on his face. And yeah: tonight's going to be fun. He can tell. It's the best kind of night—the crowd completely into it, Adam flushed under his makeup and totally riding the wave the crowd's throwing to him, practically bouncing on his mark when the lights go dark and Fever starts.

Tommy's pretty sure most of life's most important decisions come down to knee-jerk reactions; even the bride and groom at the altar say "I do" in less than a second, no matter how many months they've prepared or how long it's been since the invitations got engraved. But Tommy's wasted his gift of months, and now he has about twenty seconds—thirty, if they do a long intro—to decide.

"There he goes, my baby walks so slow," he hears, and yeah, this is the part where he doesn't need to play, the part where all he has to do is go limp and let Adam call the shots.

But what it really comes down to, Tommy thinks, is this: starting as they mean to go.

And he's said again and again that he won't let Adam boss him around.

He doesn't have Adam's voice, and he's not the act they all came to see. They're called Glamberts, after all, not Tomboys.

But they'll live.

And so as Adam puts a finger to his lips, "we both know it isn't time," Tommy reaches up with the hand not holding the neck of the bass and tilts the mic before Adam can keep going.

"Would you be mine?"

This is the other thing about really important choices, Tommy thinks, in a second about a week long: when it's a joint decision, time warps and stretches out like fresh taffy as soon as the choice is in the other person's hands.

He can hear the entire audience screaming, Jesus, it's like somebody let in about an extra five thousand people out there, and they all seem to be on his side—and he was afraid of them knowing only a couple of months ago? Seriously?—but it occurs to him in that second that he and Adam didn't talk about this, and this could be a very big mistake on his part.

And then Adam smiles, happy and lazy and big, and he pulls Tommy into his arms—leaving just enough room for Tommy to swing the bass on its strap before it gets stuck between them, because he's pretty sure Adam isn't going to want tuning pins sticking him in the hip.

When they finally dare to set foot on Twitter again (two days later, and with Isaac howling laughter at Tommy for being the one who managed to explode the internet), the fans will still be flailing like a five-alarm fire and declaring it the best Fever kiss of the entire tour.

Tommy will definitely be in agreement. But right now he's more concerned with Adam's tongue against his lips, his teeth, caressing the roof of his mouth, while Monte stands off to the side—Tommy opens his eyes just long enough to see and flick him off behind Adam's back—playing the basic melody over with this knowing little smirk on his face.

They break apart before too long—they do have two-thirds of the show left to go—and Adam manages to get back into the lyrics without so much as a tremble in his voice, but Tommy knows he's not off the hook.

He's going to answer for that later. And, he suspects, he's going to love every second of it.
Nov. 9th, 2010 12:23 pm (UTC)
Here In The Dark, 35a/35b
[AN: Recommended Listening: Body To Body, Heart To Heart by Cher.]

They come through the front door laughing, and they're barely into Adam's new living room when they're leaning against a wall, sharing the lengthy kind of kiss they had to skip earlier. Even the second one Adam gave him, during band intros—"And this guy, I have no idea who he is, anybody want to help me on this one?" he'd said, the cheeky bastard—was far too short.

But now—now they are two, phones shut off, and they have all the time in the world.

At least until tomorrow morning, because sooner or later Adam's dad is going to call.

They finally break apart so Adam can find the light switch. It doesn't do anything when he flicks it, and when Tommy puts his hand on the little table beneath it he finds one of those push-lights that bathes the table in a dim white glow. Adam picks up the paper next to the light and turns on the flashlight on his keychain.

"No power til tomorrow but should be on when you get up, Chinese in cooler on the counter, battery lantern under table, see you when you're back with the living," he reads. "It's from Mom. Oh . . . " a pause. "She loves you too."

"We're way too predictable."

"I don't mind predictable if it means we're eating lukewarm candlelight Chinese at two in the morning after crashing a fan afterparty," Adam answers. "I am totally down with that kind of predictable."

"I thought that girl was gonna drop the beer she was handing you when she realised it was you."

Adam giggles. "I kind of did too. Come on, I'm starving."

They make their way through the Chinese—actually more than lukewarm, thanks to kitchen matches and a gas stove, thank somebody for small miracles—and if they're being stupid in love, Tommy failing at chopsticks period and Adam trying and failing to feed him sugar peas because he can either keep stuff in the chopsticks or turn them around but not both at once, there are totally way worse ways they could be stupid. And it's totally not their fault Adam still had a perfectly good bottle of wine in one of his kitchen cartons.

There's no hot water for showers, but Adam boils a pan on the stove and when they're stripped bare together in the master bath—after Adam's gone on for awhile about how totally fucking rad it is that he has his own bathroom, who's the genius who invented that idea—with a little cold mixed into the boiling to bring it down to pleasantly warm, they find a pair of washcloths in the undersink storage—and holy shit, Tommy thinks, Leila must have enlisted every bored housewife she knows even if it is only the really essential stuff that's unpacked—and wash each other, not so much out of sentiment as because self-examination by half a dozen candles and a battery-powered camping lantern is really fucking hard (but yeah, Tommy's cool with doing it for sentiment, too; it's a serious kind of nice to be trusted that much with someone else's body). Then Adam blows out half the candles, and takes two and hands Tommy one, and leads him back into the bedroom.
Nov. 9th, 2010 12:24 pm (UTC)
Here In The Dark, 35b/35b
"I can't wait to see this when I can actually see it," Adam comments, and Tommy totally gets why—most of the house is Adam's job, his chill-out project after months on the road, but he specifically asked his mom to do his room because he never got around to actually buying real shit in between the Idol tour and Glam Nation, and he'd spend a week freaking just over sheets if he had to start from the ground up. This is his housewarming gift from his parents, and the candlelight glinting on a deep blue-green wall suggests to Tommy the room is going to be as close to a perfect sanctuary as it gets for Adam. And suddenly he feels like Adam's put something very small and very fragile and valuable into his hands and asked him to take care of it—a little scared, yeah, but excited, and honoured that Adam trusts him this much.

Adam's arms wind around him from behind, and that's when Tommy realises three candles have turned into eight, not really enough to light up the room but enough to see comfortably. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Tommy shrugs. "Just kind of glad I'm here."

Adam nuzzles his cheek, and then Tommy feels something soft drape over his eyes. "Feel up to it?"

"What, are you planning on being up early or something tomorrow?" Tommy asks, and Adam laughs, pulls the scarf closer around Tommy's eyes, ties it, runs his fingers under Tommy's shirt and over his belly.

"No, but I figured I should ask."

There's one of those free-hanging canopies over the bed—of course, Adam's the kind of person who even has to sleep dramatically—and Tommy feels Adam guide him past it, back onto the comforter, which smells, glory hallelujah, like fabric softener and something that might be lavender, not hotel.

They lie that way for awhile, kissing and touching slow and sweet, and then Adam's moving him again, helping him edge his way up to the pillows without going face-first onto the floor, and Tommy lies back and reaches down to find Adam, pull him up alongside.

"Don't forget to blow those things out before you fall asleep," Tommy advises, and then Adam licks along his breastbone and he gasps and Adam chuckles.

"I won't," he says, and pauses and then, "It's okay?"

Okay to see without being seen is what he means, Tommy thinks. Okay to be just them with nobody else, in the light, while Tommy is in the dark, where he can't do anything but trust. And he smiles.


[AN: And that's all there is, and there isn't any more.]
Page 203 of 311
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