linzeestyle | [fic][AI8] Show Me Your Teeth [Adam/Tommy][nc-17]

This took a lot longer than it was supposed to - but my Tommy characterization became non-standard for the fandom, so I feel justified in taking the time to get it just so. Done though! \o/ My first entry into the glorious genre of Tommy/Adam. I approve of this ship so fucking much, even if we can't seem to decide on a name for it yet. *g*

Title: Show Me Your Teeth
Author:

linzeestyle
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Adam/Tommy
Word Count: ~4,600
Warnings: Mild D/s, toys. Filth.

Disclaimer: This story lies.

Notes: Thanks to

revid for hand-holding and beta.

*

Don't be scared.
I've done this before.
Show me your teeth.

*

"So how much of that was just cameras?"

Tommy surprises himself by asking. They're hours, and time zones, away from LA by now -- he should be over it, except his mouth's still bruised, except he and Adam are on AP news right now because Adam shoved his tongue down Tommy's throat. It's pretty fucking fantastic, actually.

"Hmm?" Adam's leaning against one of the hotel's mirrored walls: somebody already took most of their bags, but he's got his duffel with him, and Tommy sort of wishes he still had his own overnight bag too. He's still buzzing, all wound up, and the thing he keeps coming back to is the energy behind it, the way Adam had felt grabbing him and tugging him forward. His fingers twitch with the memory of grabbing onto the piano to keep himself from falling.

"The...you know. Dress up, right?" He gives a little smile, reaching up to brush his bangs out of his eyes. "That just part of it, or is that your thing?"

Adam raises an eyebrow. "Is it sexy, you mean? Or do I do it?" He stands up, looking interested. As if on cue, somebody comes over and hands them a couple key-cards -- Adam thanks them politely and picks back up his bag, but he's still eying Tommy in a way that says the conversation's not over.

They get into the elevator before Adam continues; Tommy glances down at the expensive flooring, watches Adam's black snakeskin boots rock impatiently until the door closes.

"I don't lie up on stage -- it's performance, you know? But I'm not anybody but myself. A little amped up maybe, but." Adam shrugs at Tommy, and Tommy wonders if that's the answer to the question, if Adam's really gonna half-ass it like that.

"Maxwell Demon, right? Does that make me, what, Arthur then?" Tommy thinks Adam would be worth chasing.

The door pings and opens, and Adam reaches out to whisper his fingers over Tommy's jaw. "Christian Bale is definitely cute." And then he's stepping out of the elevator again, and oh, screw subtle then. Adam's a fucking flirt.

Tommy's lets Adam get a little bit ahead of him, enough to figure out which room is his own. He's got his key card in his hand when Tommy half-jogs the rest of the way down the hall, catching Adam by the shoulder and turning him to face him.

"So...you aren't gonna finish what you started, then."

Adam's eyebrows go up. "Hmm?"

"Back there, with me." Tommy's proud of the lack of hesitation in his voice: he sounds focused, sure enough that Adam seems to pause to consider. He leans back, seemingly thoughtful. His eyes are still exhausted, shadows that have nothing to do with makeup, but there's something darker there, shards of that same intense look that had Tommy gripping his damn keyboard up on that stage. He knows a challenge when he sees it: he swallows hard, staring back. "You have to...you gotta give me more than that."

The corner of Adam's mouth twitches up in a little smirk, and Tommy's pretty sure that means he's going to get his way. "You really want the rest of that? For real, not on camera."

Tommy lifts his chin up. He doesn't even come up to Adam's eye level, and he's always been on the small side, but he's never been quite so aware of his own thin frame before, the way Adam's hands are big enough to span the whole back of his head when he reaches out and cups his wide palm behind Tommy's neck. Tommy closes his eyes and leans back into it, and Adam murmurs in something that sounds a hell of a lot like appreciation.

Some little part of Tommy's mind thinks, yes!, but the desire to pump his fist in triumph fades under the tidal wave of oh, wow when Adam steers him forward and down the hallway, fingers still warm and a little hard on the back of his neck as he guides him towards Adam's hotel door. Inside, Adam drops his bag, steps into the center of the room to shrug out of his thick jacket. Underneath he's wearing a black long-sleeved shirt made out of some vaguely slinky material -- it stretches across his shoulders and clings to his hips, and Tommy can't stop staring at him. He's a visceral kind of beautiful, and Tommy can't remember if he's ever thought that about a guy before. If he has, he's sure it never felt like this. Adam folds his jacket carefully, laying it across the back of one of the arm chairs. He's taking his time, like he's waiting for Tommy to bolt, or joke it off, and Tommy thinks maybe this is the part where he's got to take initiative.

"I'm serious." He takes a tentative step forward, pulling off his own slick windbreaker and tossing it, much more sloppily, onto an ottoman. "I've been fucking worked up since the show, you can't leave a guy hanging like that."

"I'm not a tease." Adam turns, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs. His eyes are crazy blue. "Are you? Because this doesn't seem very..." He stares Tommy down. "You're serious?"

"That's what I said, right?" It's hard to keep his voice even when his heart is pounding like it is. That look Adam's giving him is intense, kind of insane, and Tommy feels sized up. His back straightens, and he rocks back on his heels with nervous energy. "I'm not--I've done stuff before, if that's what you're weird about," he adds, feeling defiant.

Wrists unbuttoned, Adam starts on his collar. The look he throws Tommy is skeptical, at best. "With guys?"

Tommy shrugs, false bravado. "Sure. Yeah." Tommy tosses his head to get his bangs out of his face. He's mostly lying, but whatever. This -- this stuff, if Adam really does swing that way and not just when there's people watching -- is familiar enough. Tommy's into it. He's had more than one girlfriend tie him up and make him beg. "Besides, if we're gonna do that--might as well not fuck around, right?" He shrugs his shoulders, and watches as the spark hits Adam's eyes.

"'Might as well?'" Adam takes a step forward, spanning the distance between them easy. His hand brushes Tommy's cheek, and his rings are warm and hard against his skin. Tommy can't help but imagine what they'd feel like trailing lower, if the detail work would leave imprints. Adam pulls him forward, tipping his head up and dragging his mouth against Tommy's cheek. "I wasn't trying to come onto you," he murmurs, and Tommy shivers because it sure as fuck feels like it. "I just got kind of into it. Performing's hot." It's said so close Adam's lips brush his earlobe, and Tommy wraps his fingers around Adam's elbow. "I got a little carried away," Adam finishes, and it's so soft and muted it's barely words at all.

"Yeah, well." He moves to pull back, but Tommy doesn't let him go, and he can feel Adam chuckle, a slow rumble in his throat. "I liked it. Keep going."

"Mm." Adam hums, and leans forward, and Tommy's eyes slide closed just before their mouths make contact. It's tight and controlled -- nothing like the hard press and bruise of the first kiss, but it's still just second-nature for Tommy to open his mouth under Adam's, going loose and pliant in his arms. The reaction from Adam is immediate, and intense: the kiss changes, turns wet and demanding, and Tommy whimpers into it, fingers coming up to drag through Adam's hair even as Adam's own hands lock hard against his back. He was right: the rings bite into his skin as Adam grabs him.

"Oh, fuck." Adam breaks the kiss. "Walk backwards. Don't fall."

Tommy does what he's told -- he doesn't have much choice, not with Adam crowding up against him, pushing him back until his thighs hit the edge of the bed. He buckles, and Adam follows him, straddling him on all fours and using one hand to catch both of Tommy's wrists. Adam pins them down to the mattress and Tommy twists them, just to see if he can. They don't move, and Tommy swears, cutting off abruptly when Adam kisses him again. It's rough this time, teeth scraping Tommy's lips; he can't move his hands so he brings his leg up, raises it until his thigh brushes the bulge in Adam's jeans and oh, shit, that's his hard on. Tommy presses in, trying to get a feel for if Adam's as into this as he is -- the effort gets him a growl and then Adam's sitting up again, pulling away but for the arm still holding Tommy's hands.

Adam's panting, skin flushed and mouth obscene. "Okay," he says -- more to himself than to Tommy, most likely, so Tommy keeps his mouth shut and just keeps watching. "Okay."

He's tall enough, long-limbed enough that he can lean down to reach the floor without letting go; Tommy stays still, chest heaving and eyes fixed on the line of Adam's neck, listening to the rustle of an open duffel bag, Adam grabbing....hell knows what, actually, out of one of the pockets. When he comes back up it's with a handful of things, and Tommy's eyes widen, watching Adam lift them up for his inspection.

The lube and condom come first, tossed onto Tommy's chest. "Just in case," says Adam, easily. "We'll see." What's left in his hand is a long scrap of...something leather. A tie, woah shit -- Tommy's hips jerk in reflex. "You know what I'm going to do with this?"

Tommy glances up, towards his trapped hands against the comforter. "Tie me up." It's an answer and a request and Adam grins.

"Very good. Take your shirt off first." Tommy sits up, in a hurry to comply, lets Adam take the fabric from him and toss it off the bed. His hand is big and warm against Tommy's bare chest now, and he presses on his sternum firmly, dropping him down on the mattress and getting hold of his arms again. The leather is buttery and cool against Tommy's skin; Adam wraps it around his wrists tight enough to be more than show. "Keep them there," he says when he's finished, and Tommy nods and drops them to the mattress above his head. "Look at you. You're really beautiful like this," Adam says, and there's nothing behind it but admiration.

"Thanks." Tommy lifts his hips up off the bed. "Uh, you gonna?"

"Maybe in a minute." Adam sits up, kneels and gets his hands on his buckle, and Tommy cranes his neck to watch as Adam unzips and shoves his pants down. He's half-hard, and big, and Tommy thinks, a little randomly, about the collection of toys an ex-girlfriend had, the little pink curved one she liked to use on him. It's sort of obvious to think about how this is different, and Tommy watches Adam jerk himself and thinks, there is no fucking way even as he shivers at how bad he wants to try it anyway.

Adam grips Tommy's jaw, squeezing firmly. "Watch your teeth," he says, and then he's pulling Tommy up by the hair and steadying himself on his spread knees, other hand sliding down to wrap around his own cock. Tommy's not oblivious enough not to know where this is going. He opens his mouth obediently.

Sucking cock is one of those things Tommy's never really considered. He likes getting head, but he hasn't done much thinking about the other end of it. You have all this power, a friend told him once. Tommy had been twenty-three and high and more interested in her cleavage, but maybe it's that description that made him zone out. Adam, Adam won't let him be anything but present. Fucking using him, it's how that goes, hand tangled tight in Tommy's hair and kind of painful, keeping him there. The first time Adam bumps the back of Tommy's throat he gags, reflex kicking in hard. Adam goes still, murmuring encouragement and rubbing his fingers over Tommy's scalp, waiting until he's caught his breath before going a little farther. He doesn't make it all the way in -- the angle's shitty, and there's a lot of him -- but it's enough that Tommy's jaw burns, that he can't swallow fully, and spit runs down his chin. He's so turned on his own dick hurts.

"Fuck." Above him, Adam swears, and Tommy presses his tongue up, hard, getting in on the action as much as he can. Adam sighs in a way that Tommy can feel against his palate, murmuring oh, harder lazy and sex-slurred. Tommy complies, sucking and pressing his lips together as tightly as he can, straining to try and make Adam feel it like he's requested. When Adam pulls away - it might have been minutes, it might have been fucking forever -- Tommy whimpers and tries to chase it, throat and lips swollen and used and noises coming out harsh-sounding, helpless to his own ears. His cock twitches in his pants and he lets his head drop back onto the mattress, panting, eyes closed. His whole body shudders when Adam grips the edge of his jeans.

"You really do like this." Adam sounds impressed, and Tommy squeezes his eyes shut tighter, nodding desperately as Adam's palm presses down hard against the crotch of his jeans. He's going to come in his pants. Holy shit.

As if reading his thoughts, Adam taps his hip in a light slap. "No you don't. Not yet." His fingers pop the button fly of the jeans, and then deft hands are tugging them down, getting his boots too, leaving him naked and hard against the mattress, open and pliant under Adam's hands.

"God, you're beautiful to look at." Adam wraps his hand around Tommy's dick, squeezing. "It's amazing, they showed me a picture first and I thought, wow. I bet you hear that a lot though, right?"

Tommy just nods again, fast, because he has. Heard it before, that is. It's part of what got him the job, he's fucking sure -- not because Adam was looking for a fuck or anything, but because shit sells. He's never had another guy tell it to him like that, before; there's usually a sneer behind it. Adam says it like it's something precious.

"Okay. Can we try something else?"

"Huh? Oh-- sure, sure." Tommy's not really listening, doesn't really care to -- he'd say yes to anything, right, fucking yes. It gets him a gentle brush of Adam's fingers, and then Adam's climbing off the bed and rummaging through his suitcase, shedding his clothing as he goes. He's hot as hell: there's that it in him, that spark or whatever, Tommy doesn't have a word for it. He didn't know much about Adam going into this gig -- work is work and Tommy can rock asymmetry and leather if it keeps him on the road through 2010 -- but he's no dummy, either, and he youtubed the kid as soon as his name came up in connection with a TV show. A fucking zillion video hits later, Tommy still doesn't know how Adam stayed on the FOX network for as long as he did, not with that heat to him. The stuff about scandal, gay Idol or whatever, Tommy couldn't have cared less about when he signed the dotted line. Adam makes music feel like sex, and Tommy thinks that's the only way rock and roll should be.

When Adam climbs back onto the bed he's holding a rubber ring, and Tommy can't help but laugh, even as his whole body flushes with the heat of recognition. "So what, you carry that around? Like, in case?"

Adam shrugs, smile indulgent. "You never know, do you?" He stretches the ring between two fingers, considering. "The leather and metal ones are really a lot prettier, but in a pinch--" He grips the base of Tommy's cock, uses lube-slick fingers to work the nitrile down his shaft. Tommy bites the inside of his cheek and digs his fingernails into his palms, and when Adam moves his hand away Tommy stares down at his own erection, at the black (of course) ring against his hot skin.

"So you'll come when I tell you." Like Tommy had planned on doing anything else. Adam grabs the lube and condom off of Tommy's bare chest.

"Fuck." Tommy swallows, and Adam brings his hand up, pressing his fingers to Tommy's mouth.

"I'm going to fuck you. And you're going to be quiet. Can you do that?"

Adam's brows raise in a challenge, and Tommy thinks, shit, and says, "you seriously fuckin' expect me to...." It's almost a yelp, and Adam smiles, dark and indulgent.

"Well, we can improvise."

Adam reaches down and snags his discarded scarf off the carpeting, balls it up and slides two fingers into Tommy's mouth to open it. As soon as he complies the fabric is pushed in -- it tastes warm and bitter with cologne, like Dior Homme and the heat from flash bulbs and runway pavement. Tommy bites down hard, savoring the way it scratches, full and foreign on his tongue.

"Now you can scream," Adam tells him, voice dipping to a purr. He's uncapped the bottle and Tommy watches the lubricant glisten on his fingers. Adam's fully hard now, and Tommy's staring, can't help it. He's going to be wrecked, and he closes his eyes because the want is so sharp it makes his teeth ache.

Adam opens him roughly, sliding two slick fingers into his ass and stretching, burn sharp enough that Tommy gasps and writhes down against the mattress. He can't figure out if he wants to get away or move closer -- when he does this alone he can't get that deep, and every girlfriend he's had, has had thin, small hands. Adam's fingers are thick and demanding: he twists them hard, adds a third like it's Tommy's job to take it, and Tommy bucks down into it and bites down on the scarf.

"You sure you've done this before," asks Adam, conversationally, eyebrow raised like he's calling Tommy's bluff. Fuck that though. Tommy nods, sharp, because screw the details, the basics are the same, and he's been tied up way better than this. He twists his hips and just takes it, Adam's knuckles pushing into him and his thumb rolling the skin behind his balls and all of it so fucking good.

"Okay," Adam says, long quiet gasping minutes later, after the soreness has finally spread out into spiderwebs of pleasure. Tommy can't respond but he arches his back in agreement, closing his eyes and tipping his head back like offering. Above him, Adam makes a thoughtful sound. "Actually."

He reaches up and unwraps the tie from around Tommy's wrists, tosses it to the floor. Leans over him to make eye contact.

"Just squeeze my shoulder and I'll stop. Right away. Okay?"

Tommy moves his hand as far away from Adam's shoulder as he possibly can, using his leg to hook Adam in. He feels hard-edged, humming and raw and ready for it, already, and he blinks at Adam over the scarf and whines high in his throat, shifting so Adam can get closer. He watches Adam tear open the condom with his teeth, roll it down his cock and slick himself with practiced movements. Come on, he thinks, and he breathes in sharp through his nose when Adam lines up, head of his cock slick and latex-cool and thick and there. Tommy holds his breath and squeezes his eyes closed.

Turns out, getting fucked fucking hurts, at first. It's not like that dildo, not like any kind of damn toy at all: Adam's cock is thick and hot, scalding even through the condom, and he pushes in fever slow, palm gentling against Tommy's forehead and temples. He's gentle enough that Tommy wonders if he's busted, if it's that obvious he's never had a cock up his ass before, or if it's maybe just that this is the way Adam is, all the time, if it's just part of the package. Tommy's whole body burns, it's not just where Adam's fucking him -- like fire, being consumed with it, and Tommy rocks his hips and savors the sharp stretch and the way it fills him, like he's past the breaking point and his body's doing things Tommy couldn't have even thought about before. The rolling wave of dark achy pleasure that hits him makes his whole body jerk, and Adam chuckles and licks down the bridge of his nose.

"Amazing." His hand slides up to grab Tommy's again, tangling their fingers together this time before pressing it back down into the mattress. "Perfect, you're gorgeous." Tommy groans around the scarf when Adam starts to move, rocking against him, just easy little movements. It's a fucking wonderful tease: it hurts, it's too much, but Tommy needs more, wants to make it worth it. Adam can give it harder than this and Tommy's still fucking sure he can take it. He clenches down, squeezes Adam's fingers on instinct. Adam's eyes flare hot. "Mmm." He lets go of Tommy's hand and slides down to grab his thigh, pushing it up and forward. "Hang on tight, baby."

And oh, shit--yeah, that's... Tommy bites down hard on fabric, hands scrabbling out for purchase on the comforter, because Adam just goes for it, fucking him hard enough to hurt for days. Every shove in is like fireworks, setting off red and white sparks behind Tommy's eyelids. His ass aches, and his knee is pressed against his chest, and he's pretty sure he didn't know he was this flexible until right the fuck now. It's worth it though, it's so fucking worth it, because Adam's cock is big and gorgeous and it keeps hitting something incredible inside him. It's got him shivering uncontrollably, and he's sweating, and he's so hard, shit, he could kill Adam for having put that damn cock ring on him. He opens his eyes long enough to glance down between their bodies, at his own dick wet and red and ringed in black restrictive rubber, and the scarf in his mouth is soaked by now for how hard he's biting it, trying to keep the noises down.

Feeling Adam's orgasm from this position is crazy. He starts to shiver, and his movements get sloppy, hand coming down to just brush Tommy's dick. It's too much -- fuck, Tommy needs to come -- and his whole body tightens like a guitar string. From the way Adam groans Tommy guesses, dumbly, that was the point: Adam gasps and drops his head, dick throbbing inside of Tommy and oh god, sort of insane.

"Holy fuck," Adam gasps, shoulders still shaking. "Okay--okay, baby, it's okay." His eyes are still orgasm-glazed, but his hand's steady when it slides through Tommy's sweat-soaked fringe, and he reaches down to pull out, tie the condom off and toss it in the bedside trash can. It hits with a wet smack and Tommy groans at the fact even that makes his dick jerk -- he needs, shit, he just...

Adam moves fast, sliding down Tommy's body and pushing his legs apart as he goes. Tommy's dick is so hard that getting the ring off almost hurts -- it's worth it though, when Adam follows by sucking Tommy's whole cock into his mouth, three fingers pushing back into his body, curling and hitting that incredible, painful, fantastic spot.

Tommy doesn't stand a chance: his shout is muffled into the wet scarf as he arches and comes down Adam's throat.

Things are fuzzy, after that. Everything comes to him in blissful, floaty pieces: Adam pulling the scarf away, using it to blot the mess on Tommy's stomach, between his legs. The trail of soft kisses Adam drops along his thigh as he does it, one for every time Tommy winces at the touch of fabric where he's still slick and oversensitive. Definitely part of the package, Tommy thinks muzzily, and he could get used to that, the being taken care of shit.

Eventually, Adam tosses the scarf away, scoots back up against the pillows and tugs Tommy in against him.

"This okay?" Adam lifts his head, and Tommy just buries his face in Adam's chest, because he's too wiped to come up with a coherent response.

"Yeah." It comes out slurred into the skin of Adam's side, and Adam nods and sinks back down against his pillow, apparently satisfied. Tommy has to snort at that, sharp unattractive sound because this is the part Adam asks for Tommy's feelings on, the part where they curl up and cuddle.

"I wasn't expecting that," says Adam, after an eternity, just as Tommy's starting to feel heavy and fuzzy with sleep. He lifts his head up anyway though, hooks his chin on Adam's chest and blinks at him slowly.

"Me neither."

Adam giggles at that - the real, pleased, happy-kid kind - and shit, it's so easy to smile back. Like gravity, anything else would be freaking unnatural.

"We're going to have to re-think things a bit," Adam says when the laughter stops, eyes still warm as he rubs fingers through Tommy's hair.

Tommy shrugs. "Why? It's rock and roll. It's gotta be about sex. Besides," he says, getting up on his elbows to lean over Adam, necklaces dangling down to touch Adam's skin, "this is just...it's like the other stuff is dress rehearsals, right? This is the part that's really hot." Adam raises an eyebrow, and Tommy leans down and catches his mouth in a kiss. He's deliberately tentative, catches Adam's bottom lip between his teeth like a question. The answer comes when Adam reaches up and wraps his fingers around the ankh pendant Tommy's wearing, using it to tug him down and suck Tommy's tongue into his mouth. When they separate again Tommy's panting, and he laughs and presses his face into Adam's throat. Shit, this is good. He feels giddy with it, buzzed off Adam's energy. "You seriously can't tell me no now. That'd just be mean."

Adam laughs, settling back into the pillows with lidded eyes and a lazy smile. "We actually plan to take over the world," he says, and Tommy places the line in the time it takes him to think, you know you fucking could.

"Baby boy, all the way."