rivers_bend

Title: The Night I Saw Drew Barrymore
Pairing: RPS— Brad Bell/Johnny Weir/Adam Lambert, Brad/Johnny, Brad/Adam
Rating: R
Words: ~1200
The Obvious: I do not know any of the people mentioned and neither believe nor mean to imply this ever happened or ever will.
A/N: Written as part of the GLAAD Gift Bag challenge over at AO3
Summary: Except later Brad somehow ends up in a corner of Adam's dressing room straddling Johnny Weir's lap.



"Drew Barrymore spoke to me," Brad says when Adam comes back from singing and is mingling again. Adam totally doesn't need to roll his eyes, even if it is maybe the sixth or seventh time Brad said it. Drew fucking Barrymore. That does not happen every day.

But Brad learned his lesson, so he decides he's not gonna tell Adam when he sees her again later in the evening, leaning against a wall with that girl from Glee—the one with the real pipes, Mercedes, only she probably has a real name, too. Drew is showing her a vibrator and they're both laughing, delighted and dirty. It's maybe a little hot, Brad's not gonna pretend it isn't, and Mr. Eye-roll doesn't deserve that kind of gossip.

Except he kind of does, because Adam's being a total sweetheart otherwise, even though he's got good reason to be distracted, so Brad might tell him later. Except later Brad somehow ends up in a corner of Adam's dressing room straddling Johnny Weir's lap, Johnny's knees spread wide so Brad would be hanging there with his ass in space if it weren't for Johnny's hands—god—holding him up and kneading at him like a cat. They're kissing, and Johnny has this crazy combination of pushy and just open and needy going on, like he doesn't think he's allowed to take charge even though he really wants to. It should be frustrating or ridiculous, but it's insanely hot, and Brad is totally not going to argue with it. After a while, though, his thighs start to feel the strain, and his dick thinks they should get on with whatever is coming after the making out.

"This is—" Brad starts, but before he can explain, Johnny gets up off the stool they're on and walks them the eight feet or so to the little couch against the wall.

And wow. It's not like no one's ever carried Brad anywhere before, but Johnny hardly looks like he could carry a pillow, and it's seriously hot that he can lift Brad like he's a feather. Athletes. Something to be said for all that training they do.

"Better?" Johnny asks as he puts Brad on his back and adjusts himself in his pants.

"Mmm…" It's better, but it would be better still if that cock were in Brad's mouth instead of all folded up in those tight pants Johnny's wearing.

Before Johnny can climb on top of him or whatever he was planning to do, Brad sits up and hooks his fingers in Johnny's waistband. "You mind?"

Johnny looks nervously at the door, but Brad tells him not to worry, and starts undoing the hooks holding Johnny in.

Johnny's dick is pretty like the rest of him, and his ass feels amazing flexing under Brad's hands as he rocks forward and back, little shallow thrusts, toppy pretending to be shy like he was with his kissing. Brad tries to guide him, but Johnny's still tentative, so Brad pulls off, says, "You can fuck my mouth; I'm not gonna break," and goes back to it, sucking Johnny down deep, swallowing around him and giving him Cheeks' best big-eyed come on.

The eyes or the deep throating—hell maybe both—do the trick and Johnny starts really moving, hand cupped around Brad's skull, taking what he wants. They've got a rhythm going, and Johnny's making these amazing groaning whimpering noises when the door opens and Adam walks in, someone just visible behind him.

"Oh!" the not Adam person says—sounds like a woman, but not someone whose voice Brad recognizes—and the wild shock of hair Brad could see over Adam's shoulder disappears. Adam just keeps walking, shutting the door behind himself.

"Oh," he says, but it's much more delighted than shocked.

"Oh," Johnny says, mortified, trying to wiggle his ass out of Brad's grip and do up his pants at the same time.

"Hello," Brad says, managing not to laugh. "We're giving Johnny head."

"Is that the royal we?" Adam's grinning at Brad, and clearly trying to keep his gaze off Johnny in order to spare the poor boy at least a little embarrassment.

"It can be the general we if you want, as long as you don't think you're taking my throne." Brad manages to hook a hand more securely around Johnny's thigh, keeping him from escaping.

"You will always be the queen, dear. Never fear." Adam's behind Johnny now, slipping his hands around his waist, one playing with the straps of Johnny's shirt, the other moving down to stroke his cock which had started to go soft with the interruption.

"You okay if Adam plays too?" Brad asks Johnny, giving Adam a hard look over Johnny's shoulder. Adam better not be letting this rock star thing go to his head.

"I—" Johnny's head tips back against Adam's chest. "He—"

"Yes or no?" Adam says, hands stilling, hovering half an inch over Johnny's skin.

"Yes, fuck, yes," Johnny breathes.

"Good," Brad and Adam say together.

Adam moves them both forward, hips tucked tight to Johnny's ass, and holds Johnny's dick in his palm like he's presenting it to Brad as a gift. His chin is hooked over Johnny's shoulder, and Brad can't tear his eyes away from Adam's face. It's surreal sucking Johnny back into his mouth now, different shape, different taste than Adam, but looking into Adam's eyes like he's sucking Adam's cock. Johnny whines and arches backwards, one arm going up around Adam's neck, and Adam nuzzles under his ear, whispering something, sucking a kiss there, but he's still watching Brad out of the corner of his eyes, and it's too much, so Brad lowers his lashes, cutting Adam off.

With Brad sucking him and Adam kissing his neck and playing with his balls, it doesn't take Johnny long at all to start shivering and gasping and tugging at Brad's hair. Brad lets him go and watches as Adam jerks Johnny the rest of the way there, catching his load carefully so none of them get spunk on their black clothes. While Adam's still holding Johnny up, kissing his face, Brad gets Adam a towel off one of the dressing tables, wipes his hands for him. It's weirdly almost as intimate as having Johnny's dick in his mouth.

When Johnny recovers, he grinds his ass back into Adam's crotch and reaches for the bulge in Brad's pants. "Can I do anything to return the favor?" he says.

Adam looks at Brad and Brad looks at Adam.

"I think we need to get home," Adam answers for both of them. "But maybe next time." Johnny clearly suspects there's not going to be a next time. "You better fucking follow me on twitter after this," Adam adds as he lets Johnny go and moves to stand closer to Brad.

Johnny giggles—there's no other word for it. "Yes, sir," he says. He gives Brad another kiss and pecks Adam's cheek before mincing out the door, tossing a wink and fluttering his fingers back at them as he goes.

Brad turns back to Adam who's moved to one of the tables and is cleaning his hands again with a makeup removal wipe. For some reason it makes Brad laugh. But then Adam gives him that damn sweet smile of his in the mirror and it makes Brad's knees week, clichés be damned. "You I'd swallow," Brad says, knowing he shouldn't but doing it anyway.

Adam finishes with his hands and drops the wipe on the table. "That's why I'm taking you home," he says.

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