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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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Jul. 18th, 2011 01:16 am (UTC)
Re: FILLED: Giving Voice (8b/10) Adam/Brad Friendship
Made stupid by the adrenaline flowing through him, Brad’s on the verge of asking What won’t? before he realizes what Adam’s talking about. He blinks and stares, mouth opening on a question he doesn’t know how to ask, when Adam stalks over to him, huge and furious and Brad can’t help the step back he takes.

“Did you hear me that time? IT WON’T HELP!” Adam’s voice cracks and gives out on his shout, the words felt in his breath more than heard. “You know what they said about your stupid fucking therapy? That it’s worthless. That I’ll be lucky if I can ever sing again at all.”

The words hit Brad with a dull thud, and he can do nothing for a moment but stare at Adam, whose face is terrible and twisted with rage. When he can’t muster a response, Adam snarls and stalks away, kicking viciously at the mess on the floor.

Brad stands for a long minute, absorbing this new reality, sorting through the shock of what Adam has just said. It won’t help It won’t help It won’t help. It pricks at him, Adam’s words feeling all wrong, Adam’s actions all wrong; this just can’t be the end of it all, some stupid cold off some stupid airplane ruining a career that was just beginning to reach its full potential, a voice so unparalleled in beauty… all hope cut down by the words of one person. It’s wrong, Brad feels it on a gut level.

He raises his eyes to find Adam, who is still glaring down at the remains of his perfect evening. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Adam’s head snaps up to redirect his glare. Brad feels a calm come over him. “They say you can’t do it, so you aren’t even gonna try.”

Adam’s mouth forms “Fuck you!” but his voice is gone, only a harsh wheeze emerging.

Brad’s jaw hardens. “Every time someone’s told you ‘no’, you’ve found a way to turn it into a ‘yes’. You’ve turned it into a record deal, a platinum album, you turned it into a goddamn Grammy nomination. But this time, when it’s about everything you ever worked for, this time you’re going to believe them?”

He can see the redness rising in Adam’s face, the fury in his eyes, read his lips as they snap, “Get out.”

Brad ignores him. “I’ve known you for a long time, Adam. In some ways I know you better than anyone. But,” he gestures towards the ruined dining room, “I’ve never known you to be a self-pitying coward.”

Adam’s face is practically purple, and his mouth opens on a scream but no sound comes out. He storms over to the sideboard and finds a piece of paper and a pen, and Brad can hear the paper rip from the pressure as Adam scrawls on it in big, sweeping strokes. Slapping the pen back down, Adam holds up his sign: ‘GET OUT’.

Trying to not show the tremor he can feel in his own body, Brad picks his way through the debris, and leaves.
Jul. 18th, 2011 01:20 am (UTC)
Re: FILLED: Giving Voice (9a/10) Adam/Brad Friendship
It doesn’t take him long to start feeling like shit. His anger fades, and as he thinks back on the things he said, he wonders if that may not have been what Adam needed at the time. Brad doesn’t regret the truth so much as the timing and the manner - he’s the one person who knows what Adam is going through, and he feels exceptionally cruel for alienating himself at a time when Adam clearly needs support.

And yet, he knows he can’t apologize for what he said; if his words spur Adam into action, they’re worth whatever harm was inflicted. He wants to reach out, but he doesn’t want to get caught in Adam’s anger again.


Brad’s checking his Twitter feed a couple of days later when one @reply catches his eye: ‘Did u see ur ex getting wasted last night?’ with a link attached. Mentally flipping off the sender, Brad almost doesn’t click it; wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been surprised that Adam was out at all.

He must be feeling better, Brad thinks as the pictures load on JustJared. When they come up, however, his heart sinks. He’s used to paparazzi pictures of Adam drunk, bright-eyed and happy and loose from the alcohol; these are different altogether. Grainy and too-dark, the product of someone’s cell phone camera, the subject is still unmistakably Adam: pawing sloppily on a young twink, sprawled over a table, stumbling to his knees. Brad gapes. This is not Adam’s usual level of partying.

Staring at the photos for a long moment, Brad worries a fingernail and scans the article for clues. But there are no familiar faces in the photos of Adam - was he out alone, or did his companions just not get photographed? There’s nothing specific or particularly damning in the article either, just mildly embarrassing. Yet it’s still uncharacteristic, and Brad finds himself remembering the stories he’d heard in the wake of his and Adam’s breakup, of drinking binges and too many drugs and endless boys.

At the time, the knowledge had stung, an additional hurt on top of an already painful breakup - but now, Adam has a much wider-reaching reputation to protect, and Brad doesn’t want to think on the consequences if Adam’s out-of-control anger is ever put on public display.

Then he’s brought up short, realizing what Adam no doubt already has: his career is over, and without that leverage to hold him back, what’s to prevent him from indulging his distress and anger in the worst possible ways?

Brad spends the day distracted, preoccupied with worry and anger at Adam’s recklessness. Whatever damage he’s caused to their relationship the other night is of minor concern compared to the other things Adam is facing, and he makes plans to go over as soon as he finishes his pressing business for the day. Just as he’s starting on his final project, however, there’s a knock on his apartment door.

When he opens it, Adam’s standing there, eyes cast down and his figure somehow less imposing than usual. “Hi,” he says quietly, eyes flicking up to meet Brad’s. “Can I come in?”

Brad steps back wordlessly, caught between his residual anger and the desire to wrap Adam up in a hug. Following Adam to the couch, he takes in the slump in Adam’s posture, the heavy concealer under his eyes. “You know, I was planning on coming over in an hour,” he says as he sits down next to Adam.

Adam gives him a mirthless smile. “It’s probably a good thing you didn’t. It’s a disaster.” He wipes a hand over his face and then turns to meet Brad’s gaze squarely. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Brad replies, feeling a bit of chagrin. “That… probably wasn’t what you needed to hear right then.”

“No,” Adam says, sighing. “I think it kind of was.”

Brad’s quiet, not wanting to push him. Adam looks around, pensive, taking in Brad’s living room as if he’s never seen it before. “It wasn’t so long ago I was living in a place like this,” he says quietly. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“It’s not,” Brad affirms softly. It wasn’t about where he lived, Brad knew; but Adam had long dreamed of owning a house, in his mind had built it into a symbol of success, of family, of love. “Everything important can still fit in here.”
Jul. 18th, 2011 01:24 am (UTC)
Re: FILLED: Giving Voice (9b/10) Adam/Brad Friendship
Adam gives a jerky nod, his throat working as he swallows hard. He fidgets with a hole in his jeans, eyes focused on the loose threads as he says, “19 found someone - a vocal coach - who works with damaged voices. She’s supposed to be really good.”

Brad’s eyes widen. “That’s great,” he says, feeling hope surge in him again, but something in Adam’s manner makes him refrain from asking all the questions that spring up in his mind.

Adam picks more violently at his jeans. “What if…” His hand curls into a tight fist. “What if it doesn’t work?”

The words are whispered, barely audible, but Brad hears them. Reaching out, he puts his hand on top of Adam’s fist and squeezes. “What if it does?”

Adam’s breath hitches, and he raises his other hand to his mouth, pressing his fingers to his lips. “I just-“ He hesitates, and Brad can hear his throat closing around the words. “If I try… and want it… and what if it doesn’t work?” His lips tremble and he presses them together, eyes wide and unblinking to try and keep the moisture in them from falling. “I don’t even know who I am anymore, Brad. What can I do if I can’t sing? It’s always been singing, always.”

Brad shifts closer, until he’s pressing against Adam’s side. “Well,” he says, “there’s a million things you could do. You could be a designer, or a model. You could go into advocacy. You’re amazing with people. But you know what?” He squeezes Adam’s hand, and Adam turns his head, finally meeting Brad’s eyes. Brad looks at him dead on. “You aren’t going to do any of those things yet, because you’re going to get your voice back.”

Adam’s face crumples, and his body begins a slow tilt towards Brad, who opens his arms and catches him, shuffling them around until they’re reclining, Adam’s head on Brad’s chest. Adam inhales shakily. “I’m so scared,” he says into Brad’s shirt. “I’m scared it won’t work, and… and I’m scared that it will. Does that make sense? If I let myself… let myself hope again, and then it doesn’t work, or doesn’t work all the way, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Brad holds Adam tighter and thinks privately that if it doesn’t work, he’ll attach himself to Adam’s hip and not leave no matter how many china sets he destroys. But he doesn’t think he’ll have to. He strokes Adam’s hair for a moment, composing his thoughts, before saying: “Do you know what one of the things I’ve always loved about you is?” He presses his lips to the top of Adam’s head. “It’s your determination. I’ve always been so proud of how hard you work for what’s important to you. And I’ve always known that you would get the things you really wanted, because of that.” He lets his fingers continue their soothing motion, feeling Adam’s chest rise and fall unsteadily against his own. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that doctors are wrong about this shit all the time, that people defy their stupid doctors’ expectations every day. It’s more than possible, and I believe it’s possible for you too. It’s going to take a lot of work. Maybe more effort than you’ve ever put into anything else. But Adam,” he drops his voice and whispers fiercely, “isn’t this worth it?”

Adam’s hand tightens where it’s resting on Brad’s waist, and he just breathes for awhile, shallow, shuddering breaths that tell Brad he’s fighting for control. Finally, after long minutes, he says tightly, “I just don’t know if I can face that right now.”

“Okay,” Brad says softly, feeling that he’s pushed as far as he can today. “You don’t have to.”

Adam’s shoulders loosen, and Brad can feel his surprise and relief that Brad’s letting it drop. “Just one thing,” Brad says, unable to hold it back. “If you want to go out drinking, take me with you. Please.”

Adam’s breath hitches a little. “Lane kicked my ass so hard for that,” he says, a sound that might have been a laugh dying horribly in his throat.

“Good,” Brad growls. “I get that you’re angry. I would be too. But please don’t throw everything away; there’s so much more left than you think there is.”

Adam’s quiet, and Brad strokes a hand through his hair, feeling his own body relaxing into the more familiar role of supporter.

Then, so softly Brad feels it more than hears, Adam whispers “Thank you.”
Jul. 18th, 2011 01:25 am (UTC)
Re: FILLED: Giving Voice (10/10) END Adam/Brad Friendship
Adam spends most of the next four days at Brad’s apartment, absorbed in his own thoughts while Brad goes about his daily business. Brad doesn’t ask, just makes sure he gets fed and held, and offers distractions in the form of cool internet discoveries and True Blood episodes when Adam gets too lost in his own head.

On the fourth day, Brad hangs up from a phone call that he’s taken to the bedroom, and as he walks back to the living room he stops short to listen. Adam is… singing, the chorus of Whataya Want From Me thin and off-key, the high notes breaking, before Adam’s voice dies out altogether.

Brad holds his breath as he steps into the room, not sure what he will find. Adam is sitting on the couch, staring off towards the window, a couple of wet trails down his face.

“I can’t do this,” Adam says into the empty space, and Brad’s breath catches before Adam continues. “I can’t… not sing. I can’t.” There’s a note of desperation under his words. “Even if I try and it doesn’t come back-“ Adam stops, then takes a deep breath. “Even if it’s not what it was, anything’s better than this, right?” His hand goes to his throat in an unconscious gesture, and Brad finds himself on the sofa, pulling Adam’s hand away from his neck and squeezing it.

Adam bows his head for a moment, breathing harshly. But when he looks up, eyes meeting Brad’s, for the first time in weeks Brad sees the fire of determination in them. Adam opens his mouth, voice cracking and wavering as he says, “I’m going to try.” And Brad knows what those words are costing him, can still see the fear lurking in the back of that cerulean gaze, the knowledge of the long, frustrating road ahead of him. But then Adam straightens, his hand tightening in Brad’s as he declares fiercely, “I’m going to try.”
Jul. 18th, 2011 02:01 am (UTC)
Re: FILLED: Giving Voice - Author's Notes
I just want to say thanks to the OP for a great prompt, even though I suspect this doesn't go as deeply as you'd like it to. Also thanks to sulwen for her encouragement, and for running this meme and starting the Summer Fic Fest, without which I never would've even thought about writing this. And finally, my thanks to lovetoseverus and dreamsofspike for their invaluable feedback along the way.

For those interested, this is now posted at AO3.

Thanks for reading!
Jul. 18th, 2011 03:37 am (UTC)
Re: Author's Note
It was great! Thanks bb! Do you think you will ever follow it up with a sequel??
Jul. 18th, 2011 03:46 am (UTC)
Re: Author's Note
Thanks for reading! My beta's got me thinking about a sequel, but I'm not even going to have time to *think* about it until October at the earliest, so we'll see how things stand then.

I'm glad you enjoyed it!
Jul. 18th, 2011 05:40 am (UTC)
Re: FILL: Hello Nurse! (4/4)
Ahaha, that was totally hot. I love that it started as a hallucination. Tommy's such a good boyfriend, taking care of Adam and indulging his fantasies... :P the plug was an extra hot touch omg.
Jul. 18th, 2011 12:17 pm (UTC)
Re: Filled!! Creature of Habit Part 2b/? - Re: Adam/Tommy (low mental-age Tommy)
I am really enjoying this story! 'Lost children'/'ferals' have always been a fascination of mine and I have never seen this type of fic in this fandom! Do you think you will ever finish it? It is so unique that I would just love to trad more!
Jul. 19th, 2011 11:01 pm (UTC)
FILL: Looking for the Answer
wow, I am FAILING at html lately.

Looking for the Answer
Jul. 24th, 2011 08:27 pm (UTC)
Re: FILL: Hello Nurse! (4/4)
Yay thanks bb! I'm glad you liked it. Nurse Tommy takes very good (though probably not medically advisable) care of his patient :P
Jul. 31st, 2011 10:17 am (UTC)
Re: FILL: Just Drunk (2/2)
wow. so good.
Jul. 31st, 2011 01:21 pm (UTC)
Re: FILL: Just Drunk (2/2)
Aww thank you so much <3 I'm glad you liked it.
Aug. 2nd, 2011 12:04 am (UTC)
FILLED: Humanistic 1/3

Tommy can't breathe. Like, fucking literally, Adam's dick is pushing all the air straight out of his lungs, leaving them shrunken-tight and burning. He pushes his face harder into the damp pillow, his arms shoved underneath it to claw at the edge of the thick hotel mattress, until his pulse is thundering in his head. Even then, it's not loud enough to block out the wet sound of Adam fucking into him bare.

"Fuck," Adam grunts, hand splayed wide on Tommy's hip as he pulls out. His fingers come back, sliding in deep, way deeper than he'd managed to wedge his dick. The blunt ache low in Tommy's gut billows, forcing a ragged groan out of him. "Loosen up, baby, you can take it."

No he fucking can't. Adam's too fucking big, too fucking much, and Tommy can't even remember asking Adam to stick it in him. There were some shots before the show, something harder making the rounds at the afterparty in Adam's swank hotel room, dissolving bitter-sweet on Tommy's tongue, some playful kisses and a hand on his dick safe with layers of cotton and denim in the way. None of that's new. But the party's still swinging and somehow they're two floors down in the room Tommy's sharing with Isaac, stripped naked and fucking in the mess of shit Tommy left strewn all across his bed while getting ready to hit the stage.

"Lemme, fuck," Tommy says, flopping over onto his back, his legs in a tangle. The room's swimming, the bed swaying like they're out in the middle of the fucking ocean, but he manages to get his knees up, grabbing onto the back of Adam's neck to haul him in so Tommy can clamp his legs tight to Adam's sides. A little bit of friction and he could get hard again. A little more and maybe he'll finally get to blow his fucking load. "Just-"

"Fuck," Adam repeats, rougher, like it's torn out of him. He palms the back of Tommy's thigh and shoves it up, blunt head of his dick right there pressing against Tommy's hole. Tommy sucks in air, enough to tell Adam to wait, that's not what he meant, but Adam's already pressing in, thick hot pressure shredding Tommy's breath to useless tatters. He clutches at Adam's shoulders, short nails digging in, heat prickling at his skin as this broken fucking whine gets wrenched out of him. There's nothing about this that feels like any kind of good he's had before. It's sharp and gritty and hurts like staring into the sun, a bright, flaring ache that makes his head pound. Everything inside him is all fucked up, twisted and aching, throbbing on each shallow exhale. And it doesn't fucking stop, his jaw clenched tight and teeth grinding together as Adam eases back, fucks in again, getting deeper and deeper every time until his balls are snug against Tommy's ass.

"I knew you'd be so fucking good," Adam says, mouth brushing Tommy's as he wedges an arm beneath him, fists a hand in his hair to tug his head back, expose his throat. "So tight, baby, like you said you'd be. So fucking tiny," he says, his other hand dragging down Tommy's side, curling under to palm his ass, fingertips touching where Tommy's split wide. Muscle stretched to its limit twitches at the gentle brush, stinging sharply, and Tommy gasps, arching up. His body's not made to take this. Adam's too big, covering him completely, too heavy for him to try to move, too fucking hard shoved up inside him. He didn't want to get fucked. Fuck around, get off, sure, not this. But Adam wouldn't be doing it to him if he hadn't asked for it. Maybe he'd let his fucking mouth run without him when Adam started fingering him. Maybe Adam thought that since he liked that shit so much, he'd like some dick, too.

Maybe, if he asked, Adam would get the fuck out of his ass and not even hate him for it.

"Wait," Tommy croaks, at exactly the same time Adam shifts, knees skidding wider to get more leverage, really fuck up into him. It's lost in a shocked grunt as his body goes loose for a split-second and snaps taut again, trembling.

"God, that's it," Adam says, grinding in hard, sending another wracking shudder straight through to Tommy's bones. "Baby, just like that. Go with it. You feel so fucking good."

Aug. 2nd, 2011 12:05 am (UTC)
Re: FILLED: Humanistic 2/3
Tommy curls his hand into a fist on Adam's shoulder. Good's not what he'd fucking call it. But Adam's close enough this way his stomach's rubbing Tommy's dick, which is weird and not so bad, sweat-slick and prickly. He's even getting hard again as Adam keeps grinding into him, barely moving but making the ache flare and mellow in a slow, steady rhythm. He's not fucking relaxed by a long shot--how the fuck anybody can relax with a dick up their ass is so totally beyond him--but he could probably get into this enough to manage whacking off. He shakes his hand free of the blanket he's clutching, flexing the cramp out of his fingers.

"Not yet," Adam says, catching Tommy's wrist when it grazes his stomach, pushing it back to the bed. He mouths at Tommy's lips, teasing with the tip of his tongue.

Twisting away, Tommy tries snarling, "Not fucking cool," but it comes out weak and thready, overwhelmed by the press of Adam's dick against his insides, rubbing up slick and hard against places that aren't supposed to be fucking touched.

"Sorry," Adam murmurs, kissing the slant of his jaw and not letting of his wrist. "I wanted to do this to you for so long, Tommy, so fucking long. Don't want it to be over."

"Gonna fucking make you," Tommy says, bucking up in a stupid spurt of bravado. Adam's hips twist with him, dick dragging free and shoving back in again, numbing his fucking legs in the rush that follows. He freezes, mouth fallen open, as Adam braces a hand on the pillows beside him and does it again, pulling almost all the way out in a wave of sweet relief, then fucking in hard with a dull smack of flesh and a sharp, stinging burn like the slice of a razor ruining what's left of Tommy's voice.

It all comes flooding back in the next thrust, a sharp, bitten-off noise fucked free as Adam really goes at him, not fast and brutal like Tommy's expecting from Adam's tight grip, the way Adam's breaths are short, shallow puffs against his throat, but slow and hard and fucking inevitable. Then again, and again, a steady, vicious rhythm spiking the burn until it's this constant, searching ache. He twists and squirms trying to get more friction on his dick, straining after the teasing rub of Adam's belly.

"Oh god," Adam says, pushing up on the heel of one hand, working his hips harder, layer after layer of scorching heat building one on top of the other as he fucks, and then Tommy's not so much chasing after some motherfucking contact on his dick as he is trying to get away from the burn like fucking matches struck against delicate skin. His body's fucked loose but fighting to tighten up anyway, weak, fluttering clenches of muscle trying push Adam out, and Adam groans like it's the best thing he's ever felt. Tommy kicks his leg out of Adam's grip as Adam picks up the pace, Adam barely noticing as he takes hold of Tommy's waist instead, hauling him down into every thrust. Tommy grabs onto his wrists, nails clawing into skin, more noises spilling out of Adam, raspy, shocked praises that make Tommy's stomach twist because he's not a good fuck, he isn't the best Adam's ever had, it fucking hurts and it's thick, wrenching pain worse than the time he sprained his fucking ankle so bad it felt like his bones were exploding every time he took a step. It's deep and terrible and all he can do is hang on tighter, his voice fucking useless when all that comes pouring out of his stupid mouth are sharp, hitching cries as Adam gets close, seriously pounding it into him, shaking as bad as he is and going still with a ragged groan, Tommy's ass throbbing and insides so cold they're burning worse than when Adam had been fucking him raw. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think about Adam's come in him, slick on abused flesh, what that's going to feel like in a few minutes when he knows Adam's fucked him so loose he's gonna be leaking.
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