rivers_bend

Title: Crack it Open
Fandom/Pairing: Music RPS— Adam Lambert/Tommy Ratliff
Rating: R
Words: 750
The Obvious: I do not know any of the people mentioned in this story and neither believe nor mean to imply that this happened or will happen.
Summary: It looked like a giant white jello shot.
A/N: Written for the GLAAD Giftbag Challenge over at AO3. You can read it there or… (either way go check out the other stories. And more to be posted later this week.)


Adam is fiddling with a bag he got somewhere and is dealing with his jacket, and Tommy's not going to stand in the foyer all night, so he heads for the living room and collapses on the sofa. Fun, but tiring, this whole awards show thing.

When Adam finally comes in, he throws a plastic-wrapped egg at Tommy's crotch. Thankfully Tommy has quick reflexes.

"What the hell is this?" Tommy asks.

Adam just laughs.

Easter was weeks ago, and Adam doesn't do Easter anyway. Not even Zombie Jesus day, which is kind of a shame, because—hey. Zombies.

"No, really," Tommy says. "What is it?"

Adam, still grinning, shakes his head. "Open it."

Like Tommy doesn't have good reason to be a little wary of Adam bearing gifts and that expression that says, I'll swallow you whole and you'll love every second of it. But Tommy opens it.

Inside the wrapper it looks even more like an Easter egg—the kind you fill with jelly beans or whatever—except it's white and the split isn't quite in the center.

"You're totally stalling; stop it. That's not the good part."

Tommy gives in and twists the egg open. It looks like a giant white jello shot.

"Okay…" Tommy says, not feeling any wiser.

Adam finally gives up looming and sits down next to him. "Gimme," he says, clearly bored of Tommy's reticence. He tips the egg out of the container, pulls a bullet—nope a packet of lube—out of the center, and elbows Tommy in the ribs. "Dick out," he says.

"You are not fucking me with whatever that is."

"Dick out, not ass out."

"You're not touching me with it either."

"I so am, and you will so thank me." Adam is squirting lube into the hollow inside the egg, smearing it around the hole.

It's uncomfortably reminiscent of medical procedures Tommy's seen on TV.

Adam clicks his tongue impatiently. "Tommy," he says. "Have you ever regretted doing what I said?"

"There was that one—"

"Have you ever regretted doing what I said when it involved your dick?"

There is only one answer to that and Tommy isn't going to give Adam the satisfaction. He does open his fly, though.

"Uh huh, that's what I thought." Adam reaches over to give Tommy's dick a squeeze with his free hand.

Tommy feels his spine unspool and his legs spread; his body has always been more clear that it wants Adam's touch than his brain has. Stupid brain.

"That's it," Adam says, leaning in and kissing Tommy's neck, stroking now, getting him hard. "You'll like it. Trust me."

Tommy doesn't bother saying that it's far too late to do anything other than trust him; he just grabs Adam by the hair so he can get a real kiss.

Kissing Adam tends to distract Tommy from just about everything and it certainly distracts him from the fact that Adam is about to upend a jelly egg filled with too-cold lube over his cock.

Tommy jumps and shouts, but Adam has an arm across his hips and doesn't let him get away. Which, okay, once Tommy's over the cold shock, and a little friction gets going, he doesn't exactly want to go anywhere. Ever.

"Wow," he says.

"I know, right?" Adam looks ridiculously pleased with himself.

"How— When—" There's a whole question in there somewhere about why Adam has been keeping such a thing from him, but Adam is stroking hard and fast and wet and perfect and Tommy has no idea where the words have gone.

"Party favors," Adam says in Tommy's ear. "Tried one out in the dressing room."

Tommy wants to know if Adam tried it out with an old friend or a new one—or both—but that's going to have to be a story for later because he's so fucking close he can't—

Then Adam slows down, just twisting the egg on the head of Tommy's cock, and Tommy's whole body seizes up and he pulls Adam's hair hard enough for Adam to hiss and then he's coming with a noise like he's dying.

Tommy figures out how to use his hands again just about the time Adam comes back with a wet cloth from wherever he went. Adam takes care of cleanup though, so all Tommy has to do with his newly reanimated fingers is trace Adam's wrist bone and the inseam of his pants.

"C'mon," Adam says, kissing him on the forehead and giving his dick one last swipe. "I know you're dying to thank me; let's do it in the bedroom."