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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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(Anonymous)
Dec. 3rd, 2010 05:31 am (UTC)
Play With Me, 5/??
"How many gay sex positions do you know, Neil?" Adam waits. Neil considers lying and decides he'll be closer to a win if he just tries to look superior. "Didn't think so." And before Neil has any further warning Adam has a finger inside him too far for Neil to yank away without what he guesses could be a serious hurt. "Trust me."

Neil wonders if he should try pulling away anyway; it doesn't hurt (even though it feels weird as hell), but he's still so not letting Adam win. Then he wonders if he could play the you-should-let-me-because-I'm-younger card. Then he remembers the final trump playing the younger card is "or I'll tell Mom," and there is no fucking way in hell he is calling his mother to complain that his brother insisted on fucking him instead of the other way around. "Why should I?"

"Because I know what I'm doing and you don't," Adam says, and then he works his finger deeper and crooks it and Neil would deny under torture at Gitmo that he just made that noise. "Point?"

"Fuck you," Neil manages to get out. "Do that again."

"Not if you don't trust me."

"Your dick says you don't want my ass to leave," Neil tells him, because Adam still isn't totally hard but he's starting to get there, and Neil can tell this shit. He thinks Adam's going to yell at him—even high, mellowed-out, Adam has a temper—or maybe push him onto his back and try to fuck him anyway just to prove he can, and if he tries that he's in for a big fucking surprise, but instead after staring at him for a moment Adam repeats the motion, moves his hand, keeps going until Neil is trying really fucking hard not to just say fuck it and ride Adam's fingers, and then Adam's hand is gone and he's speaking into Neil's ear.

"Put your hands on my shoulders."

"I said—"

"I know what you said. Will you trust me, already?"

Neil wants to glare, but any expression he can muster is going to be softened too much by pot and a hardon that he's too high to let cross over into painful territory, and so finally he just puts his hands on Adam's shoulders. Adam reaches down and shifts Neil's hips. Neil moves with him, balancing on his knees as Adam moves his centre of balance, and then as Neil's cock comes to rest against Adam's belly Adam leans back against the headboard.

"If anything hurts don't try to be macho man and pretend it doesn't, tell me," Adam says, and Neil's ready to snap at him about only being Adam's bitch during working hours when it occurs to him just what Adam's set up, and he can only stare.

"You sneaky little bastard."

Adam shrugs. "If I told you ten minutes ago would you have done it?"

"No."

"Now you know why I didn't." He runs a single hand over Neil's ass. "Shit, don't tell Mom about this."

"Like I'd want her to know I was fucking you," Neil answers, and finally he sinks back, from standing on his knees to kneeling with his legs folded beneath him and fuck, it feels weird and wrong and—

"Are you okay?"

Neil considers nodding just because Adam is so not going to fucking win, and then he shakes his head. "It's like brush burn."

"Don't move. Relax," Adam tells him, and then he uses his arms around Neil's waist to pull Neil closer, right up against his chest. "Cut out the top-bitch bullshit. If we're gonna do it let's make it good, yeah?"

Neil wants to tell him to go fuck himself. Instead he nods against Adam's shoulder and tries to concentrate on his breathing while Adam keeps still and rubs his back, and after awhile the hot burn fades out, because even pot doesn't cover everything.

"Okay?"
(Anonymous)
Dec. 3rd, 2010 05:33 am (UTC)
Play With Me, 6/??
"Yeah." Neil squeezes Adam's shoulder. It still feels weird as fuck, but it doesn't hurt anymore. Adam leans back again and lets his hands slide down to Neil's hips, and Neil takes a deep breath and pushes down on Adam's shoulders and shifts his weight onto his knees and rocks up into a half-kneeling position before sliding back. Adam slides one hand to the small of Neil's back and pulls him closer, touches Neil's chin, kisses him again, runs his hand from Neil's jaw to the back of his neck and up over his scalp, and Neil almost kind of regrets putting himself in this position, demanding to be the one calling the shots, because after so long on the road hauling shit and sitting hunched over a prompt book calling cues into a headset that weighs almost as much as he does he could really go for one of Adam's neck rubs. And maybe Adam can tell, because the next time Neil pulls himself up on his knees Adam lets his hand come to rest on the back of Neil's neck, and squeezes, fingers close together, kneading, and Neil tries not to just flow backward into that hand and it's so not working.

Eventually Adam rests his head back against the headboard, eyes closed, mouth open, and Neil thinks about another night at Burning Man, one where they were all laughing drunk and took a run—more like they took a series of fast stumbles, actually, but they called it a run—through open desert for no good reason, getting caught in a windstorm just the wrong side of the entrance and Adam taking a stumble he couldn't get out of, landing on his knees, throwing out his arms and tossing his head back and laughing like they'd all never die while the wind blew his hair around his face and pelted them all with little bits of sand and stone.

Neil remembers thinking at the time, with that weird blend of wonder and cynicism he's pretty sure only coexist in the artist who knows, or at least thinks, he will never be able to create real art as Adam creates it, even if the truest of Adam's art is in a beaten-up notebook where nobody will ever see it: he's fucking gorgeous and I could never write that in a million years, and wishing, as probably only drunk and high people can, not to be Adam but to be the laugh coming out of Adam's chest, loud and childishly joyful and wonderfully unafraid and free.

They are sitting now not in an open, wind-torn desert but in a hotel room where the only sounds are the steady hum of the heater and their own breathing, and Adam isn't laughing now, just looking at Neil with dark eyes and flushed cheeks like he's never seen him before, but on some fundamental level, that moment and this one are the same, Neil thinks. And maybe it's just the pot talking, but Neil's pretty sure it's because in that moment, like this one, he's looking at Adam and wondering what the actual fuck are we doing here? while simultaneously wondering what he ever did to deserve sharing something nobody else would ever understand with somebody so totally infuriating and insane and full of love for everything and everyone around him.

It's fucked up. It's weird. It's a taboo so strong even Neil hesitates to break it.

It's incredible.

It's also a mess, Neil realises only a couple of short minutes later, and he wonders if the yaoi fangirls ever think about that being really not sexy. He clamps his hands tight on Adam's shoulders before he can fall forward, and Adam makes some kind of noise Neil can't interpret; his Adam/rest-of-humanity translation dictionary doesn't include sex noises. Then Adam relaxes back against the headboard, head back, too languid to really be smiling but too relaxed to be doing anything but. Neil swings his leg off to one side, pulling away from Adam and sitting back experimentally before deciding there's no permanent damage. What little soreness he feels will almost definitely be gone by morning.

"Thanks," he hears Adam say, and wonders if he imagined it. Then he sees Adam's lips move, and knows he didn't. "It's been awhile."
(Anonymous)
Dec. 3rd, 2010 05:36 am (UTC)
Play With Me, 7/8
"Like hell," Neil objects. "You've got half a dozen guys throwing themselves at your feet every fucking place we stop."

"Half a dozen guys who could all go running to the tabloids first thing in the morning and only speak enough English to tell me how much they wanna suck me off," Adam points out, and he drags his discarded T-shirt from the other side of the bed to first wipe the sweat off his face and then clean his stomach before offering a clean swatch of it to Neil. Neil considers shaking his head, then decides the back of his neck is too sticky for comfort and takes it. "If I'm gonna be sold out for a one night stand I'd like it to be with somebody I can actually talk to."

Neil thinks about what it must be like to be so famous you can't even have sex without everybody knowing. Then he realises nobody will ever guess why he really stayed up here, and it occurs to him it's something Adam can't be one hundred percent guaranteed from anyone else ever again. No fucking wonder Adam's been going crazy onstage—he can't do it anywhere else without dragging somebody else into what Monte calls "the whisper circle."

"Yeah, well, two weeks and we'll be in the UK," Neil says, trying to break the sudden tension. He wonders why Adam and Terrance haven't worked anything out, then decides it's none of his damned business. "If you think you can handle the accent you can do all the talking you want."

"Yeah," Adam agrees, and he flops over onto the bed and closes his eyes. "'s true." He opens one, just enough to peer up at Neil. "You wanna stay here?"

Neil considers whether sleeping with Adam, who kicks and tosses all night long and occasionally left bruises on Neil's face and arms while sleep-fighting his way through puberty, is better or worse than having to get up and get dressed and wander all the way down to his own room. Finally he flops down next to Adam's side and rolls up in the peacock blanket, which feels even more incredible against completely bare skin than just the bottoms of his feet.

"It's like electricity, you know?" Adam says, and any other time Neil would roll his eyes, but he's just high enough and sleepy enough to listen. "Being on tour. When you're home you've got a ground plug whether you've got a boyfriend or not 'cause it's home. But when you're moving too fast to tell what time zone you're in it's like . . . loose AC in all your wires."

"That's not how electricity works, Adam," Neil protests, and Adam rolls over and burrows his face into Neil's neck.

"Loose AC," he insists, and between the pot and the orgasm Neil's pretty sure most of Adam's brain is fried and he should seriously just table this argument until tomorrow, even if it does make his inner science geek scream in pain. "You still cuddle good." Adam pauses, frowning against Neil's neck. "I mean—"

"I know," Neil answers. Adam's not talking about Neil cuddling back, he'd have to be a lot more high than this to actually cuddle back, but he's a relatively good sport about being held and generally used as a breathing rag doll. Adam curls up around him like a giant freckled cocoon.

"We should do this again," he says, and Neil feels him reach away for the other side of the blanket. "Like when we were kids."

"I don't remember fucking you when we were kids." Neil wonders if maybe he should go, effort or no effort—they talked, they fucked, they smoked some really good pot and blew off steam. Nothing more, and he doesn't want to give Adam the idea it was. Fuck, if anything could totally destroy the end of the tour, that would be it. Adam shakes his head against Neil's neck.

"Not that. This. Remember when we got the chicken pox?"

(Anonymous)
Dec. 3rd, 2010 05:37 am (UTC)
Play With Me, 8/8
Neil's about to say he doesn't, and then he does—Adam in second grade, Neil not quite into kindergarten. Adam caught it at school, Neil caught it from Adam, and then, somehow, in one of those the-medical-books-say-all-odds-against spectacles, Adam managed to be one of those kids who caught it twice. The first time was bad, the second time was brutal and left his skin permanently pockmarked, and when they both had blisters they curled up together in bed so they could scratch each others' backs and necks and shoulders when their parents weren't looking. They'd slept that way for two weeks after the parade of children's Advil and oatmeal baths and cortisone cream was only a memory, usually with Adam's arm slung over Neil's shoulders and Neil's face buried in a plush Pooh bear he's pretty sure one of their cousins appropriated from him as a "collectable" when he was nine or ten.

"Yeah. Don't tell Mom."

"Like I'd want her to know I'm letting you sleep in my bed again," Adam says, and Neil gropes for a pillow to whack him with before Adam can make any jokes about plastic liner sheets. They tussle over the pillow in a slow-motion kind of struggle that'd probably look fucking hilarious on a camera, and Neil's reminded again why he hates the damned things. Finally Adam gets it away and tucks it under his head to keep Neil from pulling it back. "Neil?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, Fishbreath."

"I love you too, Dorkface." Neil curls up on his side and grabs the other pillow. Adam can damned well get up for the lamp himself.

"Neil?"

"What?"

"Thanks."

"Mmm." Adam's blanket smells like pot and aftershave. Neil buries his face in it.

"Neil?"

"What?"

He doesn't have to see Adam's face to feel the wicked grin on his face. It's like the whole air in the room changes.

"I think I really fucking like Amsterdam."



Recaptcha: bellowed anatomy. Appropriate.
janesgravity
Dec. 3rd, 2010 05:44 am (UTC)
Re: Play With Me, 8/8
I LOVE YOU. AND THIS IS AWESOME. <3



... and apparently I have no shame <_<
(Anonymous)
Dec. 3rd, 2010 05:48 am (UTC)
Re: Play With Me, 8/8
Thank you. Because you're doing it perfectly.



This fandom is about a man who pretends to suck off his microphone onstage and then uses it as a prosthetic penis. What is shame?
janesgravity
Dec. 3rd, 2010 05:50 am (UTC)
Re: Play With Me, 8/8
You make an excellent point
i_bleed_magenta
Dec. 3rd, 2010 05:54 am (UTC)
Re: Play With Me, 8/8
well, this is pretty fantastic <3
zorabet
Dec. 3rd, 2010 05:55 am (UTC)
Re: Play With Me, 8/8
Before I actually say anything, I want to lol at "Adam's name has become a magic word on par with "open sesame,"" because well...lololol.

But A+++! Thank you! :D

Lol, ngl, my favorite parts are the WONDERFUL ABOUNDING REFERENCES TO THEIR TIME SPENT AS BROTHERS AND CHILDREN.

Your Neil does about 0 things to ease my desire to marry him, btw.
(Anonymous)
Dec. 3rd, 2010 05:57 am (UTC)
Re: Play With Me, 8/8
Thank you ♥

I know I know you from Twitter. Please help me.
i_bleed_magenta
Dec. 3rd, 2010 05:58 am (UTC)
Re: Play With Me, 8/8
catnipandhoney!
(Anonymous)
Dec. 3rd, 2010 06:02 am (UTC)
Re: Play With Me, 8/8
Well, it's true.


YOU ARE WELCOME. ♥


Had I only known that before I saved the final/closed the document >.< The bit about them with chicken pox was originally longer and then I went "ehhh, but this is getting so sappy and little-kiddy, not sure if want" and baleeted it.

If you ever do marry him, I suggest you do not try bringing up the time he knocked out his tooth falling down the stairs or that time he and Adam had chicken pox. He'll think you're nuts. BUT I GUESS THAT MEANS I'M DOING IT RIGHT?
(Anonymous)
Dec. 3rd, 2010 06:07 am (UTC)
Re: Play With Me, 8/8
AHA. I knew I knew you. ♥
zorabet
Dec. 3rd, 2010 06:10 am (UTC)
Re: Play With Me, 8/8
lol, everytime there's Lambcest I'm like oh sex cool OMG THEY'RE BROTHERS EEEEEEEE BB LAMBERTS OMG THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCH.
(Anonymous)
Dec. 3rd, 2010 06:22 am (UTC)
Re: Filled!
OP!

this is EXACTLY what I wanted, thank you so so much, this is awesome.
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