Fandom: American Idol S8
Pairing: Adam Lambert/OMC
Genre: Romance, Suspense
Word Count: 9,250
Disclaimer: No infringements on the rights of real people intended. Not profiting in any way.
Notes: Written for the cockbertbigbang challenge, featuring suspenseful art by the incomparable glambini. Beta by cinaea.
Summary: During Adam's 3rd European tour, the CIA activates him for a special assignment. But he'll have to bring his boyfriend along.
He'd told Jason he was booked for appearances all day and couldn't make it, which was a lie—well, partially a lie. But lying was obviously justified for a surprise.
"Gt yr bags yet?" Adam typed, slumped low in the backseat of a Mercedes idling outside the Prague-Ruzyně Airport. He watched a couple planes take off through the panorama roof while he waited for a response, smiling to himself as he pictured Jason walking through international customs.
An answering text came a minute later, spelled perfectly: "Got my bags, found the driver. 30 minutes to the hotel."
"C U soon," Adam texted back and craned his neck up to see the moment his boyfriend walked through the automatic doors.
He caught a glimpse of unruly blond hair and ducked down again, giddy with excitement. He couldn't wait to see the look on Jason's face when he—
The black-suited driver pulled the door open, and Adam held his breath, waited for the gasp of surprise.
"I thought I'd find you here," Jason smirked, peering into the backseat with a hand braced on the door.
Adam tried to look indignant, but a smile cracked through. "Liar, I was totally stealth!"
"Yeah," Jason said, climbing into the car and closing the door behind him. "But you're you." He kissed Adam, lips dry from recirculated air brushing soft against his, his hands finding the lapels of Adam's jacket. "I knew you'd find a way to come."
Adam wanted to keep protesting—he'd been total-undercover-awesome about his plans, and it had cost him an arm and a leg to get a couple hours free in the middle of the day—but Jason was right. Of course he'd come. "How were the flights?" Adam murmured, his fingers finding their favorite spot, ruffling the curly hair just behind Jason's left ear.
"Long," Jason sighed, exhaustion etched around his eyes and in the slump of his shoulders. His body sagged against Adam's, and Adam tugged him across the seat until they shared the same space. "I barely slept. Too much noise, and too excited about this." He tilted his face up again, looking for another kiss.
Adam obliged, tongue slipping in to find Jason's, chasing away the ghosts of separation. "Missed you," he breathed, the anticipation that had been building for the last few days finally turning to reality.
Jason moaned for him, arched into his hands and echoed, "Missed you." Adam nuzzled his cheek and bumped into the wire-rimmed glasses Jason never wore. "Sorry," Jason said, and tucked them in the window well.
The driver slid into the front seat and started the engine.
"You won't be able to see the city," Adam pointed out selflessly, even as he traced his lips down the bridge of Jason's nose.
"I'll see the sites tomorrow. Right now I just wanna see you. And before I forget—" Jason shifted around on the seat, getting a hand into his back pocket and pulling out his BlackBerry. "I'm not gonna check work e-mail the entire weekend. Promise." He thumbed the power button and showed Adam the screen shutting down.
Jason letting go of his work was asking even more than the 15 hours of travel each way, especially with his biggest annual project just weeks away. Adam rewarded him with another long kiss. "That Board of Directors meeting has got nothing on me," he said, pleased.
"That's exactly what I told my team before I left."
"Did you tell them exactly what you'd be doing with me?" Adam's fingers drifted down to tease at Jason's belt buckle.
"Hey. No buttons, buckles, or zippers," Jason reminded him breathlessly, even as his hips shifted toward Adam's touch.
Adam smiled innocently. "I know, I know. I'm just…making sure you stay awake for the next thirty minutes."
"Oh, that's okay then." Jason pulled Adam down on top of him, sprawled across the soft leather seat, his lips nipping at Adam's throat as Adam rolled their hips together.
The moment they were alone in the elevator, Adam's hand was in Jason's hair, tipping his neck back for another kiss. They tripped over the rolling luggage a few times on the mile-long walk to Adam's suite, giggling like kids sneaking home after curfew, unable to keep their hands off each other.
As soon as the door was locked behind them, Jason threw his bags on the carpet and attacked Adam's clothes. Adam's leather jacket and shirt were thrown aside before Jason lost patience with foreplay. He whipped Adam's belt off, popped open Adam's jeans and shoved them down a little, and then pushed him back to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Oh, how I've missed you," Jason crooned to Adam's cock, sinking to his knees, and then opened his mouth and took him in with a happy hum.
"Fuck," Adam gasped, fingers twisting automatically in Jason's hair. "I knew you only loved me for my cock."
"Hm umm," Jason answered, his tongue involved with more important things. He cupped Adam's balls and massaged lightly as he sucked, sending waves of pleasure rolling up Adam's spine until Adam couldn't control the words that spilled from his lips, Jason's mouth more intoxicating than four shots of Grey Goose.
"Fuck, yeah, baby. Take all of me, yeah, just like that. Oh—show me how much you missed me."
Jason snorted, tilting his chin so he could roll his eyes at Adam, but his neat, manicured nails dragged down the sensitive creases of Adam's thighs, sliding through the sweat collecting on his skin, and he didn't let up on the sweet, maddening suction for even a moment.
"Oh, fuck, you're so good, baby. Love your fucking mouth, love fucking your mouth, yeah. Missed this. I thought about this every day, missing you, fucking you—"
Jason's head bobbed faster as Adam babbled, cursed, spilled his heart out. Adam had been holding back for nearly a month; there was no way this would be anything but embarrassingly quick. Jason's swollen lips were plush and firm, his tongue swirling around the crown, fluttering against the vein on the underside on his way down, and it was like coming home. Home—
"I won't let you go home. You have to stay with the tour, 'cause I— Oh! I missed you. So much, Jay…."
He was so wet and tight, so good after so long, Adam just closed his eyes and held on as Jason slowly erased the weeks of empty, unfamiliar beds, frustrating phone calls, and fuzzy video chats that pixilated Jason's smile lines. When Jason relaxed his throat and took him deeper, tight muscles squeezing the head of his cock, Adam bucked and yanked on Jason's hair, his whole body tense and thrumming with the pleasure pulsing out of his cock for what felt like forever.
He came down gradually, sprawled out on his back, arms limp and useless at his sides, Jason petting his stomach and kissing his thigh.
"You still with me?" Jason asked, sounding a long way away.
"Ng," Adam said.
Jason slid up his body, pressing ticklish kisses to Adam's hip, his ribs, a nipple, his collarbone. Finally those lips reached Adam's cheek, and Adam turned his head to meet them, tasting himself on Jason's tongue.
"Mmm," Adam sighed.
Jason kissed his ear and whispered, "God, the way you look…." He stood up and stripped, then tugged Adam's shoes and pants the rest of the way off.
When Jason crawled up the bed again, Adam slid a hand along his side, tracing sleek skin he hadn't touched in far too long. Jason kissed him again and shimmied higher up the bed to lie on his side, his cock hard against Adam's shoulder.
"Gimme your mouth, baby," Jason said, taking his cock in hand and angling it toward Adam's mouth.
Adam opened his lips to take him in, letting Jason slide across his tongue. He sucked for a long, luxurious moment, Jason's cock bumping softly against the inside of his cheek, the roof of his mouth.
"Oh, yeah," Jason moaned above him, voice breaking in the prettiest way as he begged with his hips, little rolling thrusts that urged Adam to give him more, to give him what he needed. "Come on, babe—"
Adam growled and rolled over, swiftly pinning Jason's hips against the duvet with his hands. Jason laughed under him, even as his hands fisted obediently in the sheets. When Jason looked up at him with dark eyes, those gorgeous smile lines reflecting his delight, Adam licked his lips and slowly lowered his head to nuzzle the base of Jason's cock.
Jason's laughter cut off with a gasp.
Adam licked up the underside of his cock, mouthed the crown and watched Jason tremble and squirm, loving the sight of his boyfriend laid out for him, at his mercy. He took his time, focusing on Jason's most sensitive areas. A few slow licks over the slit, delicate press of his fingernail against the vein, firm, rhythmic squeezes of the shaft and balls, and in less than a minute Jason was thrashing his head and begging in earnest.
"Fuck, please don't tease," Jason panted. "Adam? Please, not now. Just—"
Adam squeezed his hip to silence him and took him into his mouth again, sucked hard and shallow. Jason's back bowed, arching off the mattress, and he whimpered as Adam tongued the slit again. Adam pulled back and licked his thumb before rubbing it over Jason's puckered hole, a promise for later, when he could really take his time taking Jason apart.
"Please," Jason begged again, and Adam couldn't wait any longer to see Jason come, to feel him lose himself under him. Adam leaned up and kissed him, tongue pressing deep to claim his mouth as his fist stroked fast and tight around Jason's wet cock.
Jason shouted something that sounded like Adam's name, chanted it over and over as his cock jerked and striped white over Adam's fingers, his hands coming up to clutch Adam's shoulders, and his mouth hot and open for him.
He stroked Jason through it, loosening his grip and softening the kiss until Jason's body went boneless on the duvet, his face flushed red and sweaty, breathing hard.
Adam kissed his brow and licked some of Jason's cum off his fingers. "Thank you," he whispered, taking another moment to appreciate his boyfriend traveling halfway around the world for this. For him.
"Thank you," Jason panted.
"I meant 'thanks for coming,'" Adam said, trying to be serious for a moment.
"Oh, it was my pleasure," Jason grinned, squinting up at him with amusement.
"You're terrible," Adam groaned, tweaking one of Jason's nipples.
Jason shivered, and Adam couldn't resist kissing him again and playing with that nipple, pinching and rubbing until Jason writhed and tugged Adam's hand away with another beautiful, soft, "please."
It was another minute before Adam could tear himself away long enough to fetch a towel from the bathroom. When he got back, Jason had curled up above the covers, nearly asleep already.
Adam wiped down Jason's chest and thighs and tried to tug him to sit up.
Jason refused to move, protesting, "I'm gonna sleep right here."
"No, you're not. Come on, get under the covers."
Jason tried to bat his hands away, but Adam was determined and eventually got Jason off the bed so they could both slide under the sheets. The goose-down duvet floated above them, the 1,000 thread-count sheets caressed their bodies, and Jason's skin was hot to the touch when Adam pulled him into his arms.
"How long do we have?" Jason asked, his voice barely a whisper as he threaded his fingers through Adam's.
"You can nap. I'll have Lane wake you up before the show."
"When do you have to leave?"
Never, Adam wanted to say. But Jason was a planner; if he asked a scheduling question, he wanted a real answer. "Half an hour," Adam said, brushing his lips over Jason's ear. "But right now, this is the only place I wanna be."
"Good. I missed this," Jason sighed, settling against Adam's chest and closing his eyes.
"Me, too," Adam said, and let himself sink into heat and softness and contentment.
Sutan brushed orange glitter across his eyelid, and Adam frowned at his reflection. "That's not gonna work with the red crystals…."
"I told you," Sutan said patiently, "we're out of those."
"Damn it. I love those."
"Stop moving," Sutan said, catching Adam's chin with his fingers. "Why do you think we ran out so fast? You wore them every single night."
"You ordered more, right?"
"Yeah, but they won't be here for another week."
Adam pouted. Sutan swiped orange glitter over his lower lip.
"Have you been to the Charles Bridge?" Jason called from the dressing room couch.
Adam looked up and met his eyes in the mirror. "Not yet. Lane was all, 'You can't go there; too many people!' last time we were in Prague."
"It is very popular," the O2 Arena's hospitality manager admitted, sitting on the couch next to Jason, "but it is also very romantic. I think you would enjoy it very much."
"What do you think?" Jason asked.
A romantic outing with his boyfriend in one of the most beautiful cities in the world? That was a no-brainer. "Let's do it. We'll wear big hats and sunglasses and tell everyone we're Canadian, and Lane'll totally freak out and yell at us afterward."
"I could do you a mustache just for tomorrow," Sutan mused, twirling his makeup brush thoughtfully.
"No moustache!" Jason declared, pointing a finger at Sutan in the mirror.
The hospitality manager tapped busily on her iPad and then said, "If you would like to take a private walking tour, I have the names of some excellent guides."
Adam shook his head vigorously, earning a glare from Sutan.
"Mmm, Adam isn't a big fan of walking," Jason told her.
"Oh, perhaps a boat tour! Yes, those are very romantic. In the evening, after your dinner," the manager suggested. She pulled up something on the iPad and showed it to Jason. "You see, the city lights are lovely at night."
"Beautiful," he agreed. "This looks good. Babe, you wanna see the photos?"
Adam shook his head again. Jason was obviously sublimating his need to work by organizing their entire day of sightseeing, and Adam wouldn't be held accountable for the consequences if Jason wasn't kept busy. "If you wanna do it, it sounds good to me."
"You have got to hold still," Sutan warned, coming at him with a black eyeliner pencil.
The door opened, and a short, round man in a venue security jacket stepped inside, drawing everyone's attention. He caught Adam's eye with a frown and beckoned him to leave the room.
"I'd better—" Adam started to excuse himself.
Sutan sighed and took a step back. "Make it quick. We've only got 45 minutes, and that includes hair."
Adam hopped off the chair and waved to Jason on his way out. Jason waved back and continued planning their Saturday.
In the hallway, the security officer turned to him with a tight smile and an extended hand. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Lambert. They got a message from the action man. I'm happy, hope you're happy, too."
Adam's answering smile froze on his face. He hadn't heard his activation phrase since he'd picked it at the recruitment meeting two months ago, and the words sent adrenaline rushing through his veins, his heart beating double-time to keep up with his racing thoughts. He opened his mouth to acknowledge the signal, to ask the CIA agent to proceed, but what came out instead was a breathless, "Holy crap."
A bushy eyebrow quirked, but the agent just nodded and said, "It's all right. I knew this would be a surprise."
"Yeah. Wow." Adam tried to instantaneously sift through three weeks of memories for anything he should report. "Okay, I haven't met any government officials yet, and the only important gossip I heard is that Princess Kate's gonna poison the Queen's dogs the next time she says something about Kate's hairstyles, but you can read that stuff in The Sun anyway—"
He was babbling. This was important CIA business, and he was standing there babbling like a fanboy in uneven stage makeup. Adam shut his runaway mouth and took a deep breath through his nose, finding his center.
The agent glanced around the hallway, ensuring none of the crewmembers bustling back and forth were listening to their conversation. "I'm not here for a report, Mr. Lambert. I'm here because we have a special assignment for you. An opportunity has presented itself, and you're the perfect man for the job."
Excitement flared again, but he pushed it back down. Cool, he reminded himself; spies were supposed to be cool. "They said I was too recognizable to do assignments. It was just supposed to be a Julia Child-thing, just keeping my ears open."
"This isn't an undercover assignment. We need you to attend a charity event as yourself. While you're there—"
"As the distraction?" He could already picture it—making himself the center of attention while a James Bond-type crawled through the air ducts in a black turtleneck.
"No. Mr. Lambert, I only have a few moments, please let me finish," the agent said, his voice firm. "Tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Chovanec are throwing their annual charity party in their home. They're close friends of the prime minister, and we suspect these parties aren't the only events they're hosting there. We need you to attend the charity party. I have a set of small listening devices, which you'll place in as many rooms in the house as possible. Once those are in place, your assignment is done. Now, questions?"
Adam had hundreds, but the most important was obviously, "Tonight? I have a show, I can't—"
"After the show. The event runs late."
"Oh. But…" Jason was here. He'd been looking forward to Jason's visit since they'd said goodbye at LAX last month. "I can't. My boyfriend's here…."
The agent scowled, and Adam desperately wished he could split himself into two people. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, but he couldn't ditch his boyfriend the night he arrived. Jason was exhausted; Adam should take him back to the hotel. Although…Jason had gotten a four-hour nap, so maybe….
"Hang on, I need a few seconds," Adam said, and opened the dressing room door.
Jason looked up from the iPad, bright-eyed behind his contact lenses, and Adam's heart tripped over itself again when Jason smiled.
"Hey, babe, do you feel up to a party tonight? It's a charity thing. I'm supposed to go, but if you're tired I can skip it…." Adam bit his lip and used the puppy dog eyes. It was cheating, but he really needed this to work out.
Jason shrugged. "Sure! As long as they don't have a dress code."
Adam beamed at him. "You're the best. I'll have Lane get one of your suits. Love you." He closed the door and turned back to the worried agent. "I'm in," he announced. "Now, am I crashing, or do I get an invitation?"
"We haven't been able to secure an invitation for our own people. But…" the agent smirked, "Mrs. Chovanec happens to be a fan of yours. She's currently sitting in one of the arena skyboxes, eagerly awaiting your performance. In a few minutes, someone is going to suggest that she invite you to attend her party. Your invitation should be waiting when the show is over."
"Make sure it's a plus one," Adam said.
The agent blinked and cocked his head, questioning.
"Nevermind. Where're the bugs?"
A plastic baggie emerged from the agent's pocket, containing a slip of paper covered in what looked like black candy dots.
Adam held in his giddy flail at the high-tech spy gadgetry he was getting to use and stood fondling the baggie in the middle of the hallway until the CIA agent looked around again and pushed the bag closer to Adam's chest. Belatedly realizing what this exchange might look like to uninformed observers, Adam shoved it down the front of his leather pants.
"They're self-adhering. Place them somewhere out of sight, in as many rooms as you can," the agent advised. "Dark corners, under tables, like that."
"And then what? Do I need to report back to you—"
"You're done, and you can go about your life as normal. Or as normal as it gets for you," he added, his arched eyebrow encompassing Adam's costume and makeup, and the dozen crew members getting ready for the show.
Adam's chest puffed with pride, and he said pointedly, "If I liked normal, I wouldn't've taken that meeting in New York two months ago."
"So what kind of charity—"
"Adam," Lane called, weaving her way down the busy hallway toward them.
Adam saw her eyes zero in on the agent in the security jacket, frown lines creasing her forehead, and he knew immediate action was called for. He ripped a tour poster off the wall. "Here you go," Adam smiled, pulling out his silver Sharpie and signing across his face. "Tell your daughter I'm glad she's a fan." He handed the poster to the agent, who was now beaming like a doting father, and sent the man on his way with a wave and a "Nice meeting you!"
"Is something wrong with the security?" Lane hissed as soon as the agent was gone. "I hadn't heard anything—"
Adam caught his assistant's hands before she worked herself up. "No worries, he just wanted an autograph. Hey, could you send someone to the hotel to pick up suits for me and Jason? There's this fancy charity thing we're going to tonight."
Her eyes narrowed. "There's nothing scheduled for tonight. You told me to keep it clear so you could fuck your boyfriend's brains out. Those were your exact words."
Adam shrugged innocently. "I'm still gonna do that. After the party. Get me the grey one with the black…" he made a swirling motion to indicate the intricate ribbons sewn into the front left panel "—you know, the Versace. And whichever of Jay's is nicest. Thanks, hon." He kissed her cheek and ducked into the dressing room to avoid anymore questions.
A few hours later, Adam had Jason backed up against the cement wall in the dressing room, unleashing the built-up adrenaline from his performance and generating new electricity as he bit at Jason's lips and tongue.
Jason was dragging his fingers over the leather harness on Adam's chest, tugging and twisting at the sweaty straps as Adam ravaged his mouth.
"So, you're not gonna believe this," Lane announced loudly, closing the door behind her, "because what a coincidence, right? But apparently some VIP just sent you an invite to a private charity event tonight for the Prague Greenways Preservation Fund. I don't suppose you wanna tell me how you heard about this?"
Adam dropped a final kiss on Jason's mouth and pulled back to tell her, "Not really."
Lane crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him for a long moment before huffing and tossing the invitation on the couch.
"Whatever. Your suits are on the rack, and I'll have a driver waiting at the stage door in thirty minutes. If you're gonna be longer than that," she looked at Jason significantly, "text me, or I'm sending him home."
"You think of everything," Jason said, somehow pulling off charming sincerity with his face flushed and smudged with Adam's stage makeup. "Thanks, Lane."
She muttered something as she left, banging the door shut behind her.
Adam pressed his forehead against his boyfriend's and then blinked and focused his eyes. "Is that mascara?"
Jason grinned and tugged on the harness straps again, stroking the leather. "Sutan had his wicked way with me. I knew you'd like it."
"Oh yeah." He pushed his fingers into Jason's curls and watched him arch his neck back for him, eyelids slipping shut, black mascaraed lashes displayed like fans against his skin. He couldn't wait to get him back to the hotel—
"So how did you hear about this party?"
"Hmm?" Adam murmured, millimeters from Jason's lips. "Oh." He finally snapped out of his lust-haze and remembered his assignment.
The adrenaline started buzzing under his skin again, anticipation for his top secret mission rivaling the performance high of minutes ago. His body rocked against Jason's, looking for an anchor as the exhilarating fantasy of it all threatened to carry him away.
"I'm an international man of mystery," he said, only half-teasing. "We never divulge our secrets."
"Oh really? Tell me, Mr. Bond," Jason purred, twining his arms around Adam's back, "how long will it take to get you out of this getup and into the shower?"
Mr. and Mrs. Chovanec's home was a two-story brick stand-alone set behind a high privacy fence. Their driver handed over the invitation to get past the heavy gates and pulled up out front of a short staircase leading up to a set of double doors.
Before they got out of the car, Jason tugged at his own tie and then went to work on Adam's, smoothing his hair back for him and giving him a final once-over.
"Good?" Adam asked.
"I'd have sex with you."
"Oh yeah? Prove it."
"Later, darling," Jason promised, and then the driver opened the back door for them.
Adam stepped out, heart rate picking up when he noticed the four—no, five black-suited men positioned around the driveway. The CIA's bugs weighed on his mind and the inside breast pocket of his couture jacket.
"Yours is bigger," Jason said, looking at the house.
Adam pried his eyes away from the security force and took a closer look. It wasn't the grand old estate he'd expected. It was actually pretty new looking, and slightly smaller than his house in L.A. One of the doors swung open at the top of the steps, and a silhouette waved them forward. Adam held out his elbow, Jason grinned and threaded his hand through Adam's arm, and they climbed the stairs together.
When they got to the door, Adam let Jason enter the brightly-lit foyer first, hanging back so he could observe what kind of security check he was about to face. He watched as Jason was greeted by the security officer and asked to remove any metal from his pockets. Jason took off his watch and pulled out his wallet—the one with the inlaid silver monogram Adam had bought him for Christmas—and placed them on a little side table. The guard waved a grey wand over Jason's chest and limbs. No alarms went off, and Jason took back his things. He smiled to the officer before turning to wait for Adam.
Adam raised his chin and pulled his phone and a few Czech crowns from his pockets. "Is the hardware gonna be a problem?" he asked politely.
The guard looked him up and down, pausing at the big, silver spikes sewn onto the backs of Adam's black leather gloves. "Could you remove them, please?" he rasped in a gravelly voice.
"Of course." Adam started tugging at the fingers, carefully shifting the tight leather over the dozen rings underneath. It took fifteen seconds to get one hand out. Adam spread his fingers out and extended his hand to the security officer. "The rings, too?"
The man's jaw twitched. "I…" he said, then waved the wand tentatively over Adam's hand.
The wand buzzed, and Adam gave a long-suffering sigh. He began tugging off his rings as Jason snickered, "We're gonna be here all night."
"Please, sir," the security officer said, waving him to stop, "that won't be necessary." He waved the grey wand briskly over the rest of Adam, eyebrows rising as Adam pushed up his cuffs to reveal dozens of bracelets, shaking his head at the sight of Adam's over-sized, spiky belt buckle.
Adam was just starting to breathe easier—he was almost in the clear—when the wand buzzed over his chest, making a higher-pitched sound than before. Adam's whole body went rigid.
"Sir, I need you to empty this pocket," the officer said, exasperated.
Adam sucked in a steadying breath and said lightly, "Oh, sorry, it's…." He poked at the mass of ribbons on his left lapel, shifting them to expose the metal grommets in the grey silk jacket. "It's Versace. Heh."
The man rolled his eyes and switched the wand off. He handed Adam his phone and coins and waved him toward the next room. "Thank you for your patience, Sir. Have a pleasant evening."
"That was close," Jason whispered when Adam reached his side. "For a second I thought they were gonna make you take out your piercings. All the piercings."
"Oh my god," Adam giggled, squeezing Jason's hand in relief. "Can you say 'deal breaker'?"
"And 'international incident'," Jason shook his head. "Your fans would freak out."
Adam opened his mouth to agree, but just then two men in identical black suits walked into the foyer. Adam tugged Jason out of their way and watched as the men nodded to the security officer at the door and then headed up the curving marble staircase.
"What do you think's upstairs?" he whispered to his boyfriend.
"Bedrooms? Closets? Sobriety? Come on, hon. You brought me to a party. You owe me a drink."
"I owe you more than one," Adam agreed. "Alright, let's go meet our hostess."
The large living room dazzled with electric chandeliers, pot lights, and track lighting, illuminating a crowd of elderly couples in tuxedos and evening gowns. There was a string quartet playing something genteel and stuffy in one corner, a wine bar in another, and a buffet table in the middle of the room, covered in complicated canapés.
"How'd you get this invitation again?" Jason teased.
Finding Mrs. Chovanec wasn't difficult. The moment they stepped into the room, a woman in a black sheath dress detached herself from a group and hurried over with her hands outstretched.
"Oh my goodness, you came! Oh, I love you," she gushed in a heavy accent, grabbing Adam's hand and shaking his whole arm.
"Mrs. Chovanec?" he guessed. "Thanks so much for the invitation. I'm honored you thought to—"
"Oh, you were just incredible. I was at your show, did you know that? The seats were amazing, I was looking right down on the stage, and you looked…I mean, you sounded just…just incredible."
Adam smiled and nodded with equal enthusiasm, used to this kind of giddy reaction from countless meet and greets. "And you look amazing, wow. I bet all those are real, right?"
She was wearing enough diamonds to outfit the entire cast of Sex In the City, over a dress that was as matronly as the rest of the guests'. She couldn't have been much older than Adam, but judging from the conservative hair bun and makeup, it looked like she'd tried to age herself at least 20 years.
But right along her hairline, he saw a few pieces of gold glitter she hadn't managed to wash away after the concert. He grinned and brushed some fallen glitter off the shoulder of her dress and whispered, "Looks like you got your glam on for the show. Your secret's safe with me."
She giggled and then put her fingers over her lips, cheeks going red. "Oh, I'm sorry. You've only just arrived, and I'm gushing all over you."
"No, I love it. It's your party, after all."
"And who is this?" she asked, finding her composure.
"This is my boyfriend, Jason Wills. He's the meetings manager for Hewlett-Packard—an American computer company."
"Your home is gorgeous. I hope you don't mind if I steal some of your decorating ideas," Jason said, flashing his winning smile as he shook her hand.
"Of course, steal away. Just not the furniture, yes?"
"Yes," he agreed smoothly. "I wouldn't dream of it."
Adam gave Jason's arm a squeeze. "I promised Jason a drink, and I'm afraid a gentleman must keep his word."
"Yes, this way," she declared, leading the way to the bar at the other side of the room.
Nina Chovanec had just started giving them the rundown on their fellow guests when she was pulled away by a woman who had to be in her 90s, leaving the two of them on their own again.
Adam took a sip of white wine and considered the roomful of wealthy strangers, all at least three decades older than him. He smiled and nodded his head at the charity's benefactors, but received only distrustful glances in return. It probably had something to do with their outfits. Adam was the only one in skinny-cut slacks—yes, and full makeup, shut up—and Jason's California tan and red carpet, black-on-black suit weren't about to be mistaken for a classic tux.
"This…is not my crowd," Adam admitted.
None of the guests had any idea who he was, and vice versa. Adam didn't even know if they spoke English. So much for the CIA's idea of a 'party.'
"We'll only stay for an hour, just to be polite," Adam decided. That should give him enough time to plant the bugs. Speaking of which…. Adam reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the strip of paper. He wadded it up and stuffed it into his left glove, quickly so Jason wouldn't catch it. "Hey, let's check out the paintings."
He started to nudge Jason toward the side of the room, but Jason stood his ground and laughed softly, "Babe, Adam Lambert does not hide at parties. C'mon. Let's network."
Jason leapt right in, introducing them to a man who turned out to be the Director of Traffic Issues in Prague. Adam listened, amused, as Jason played them off as tourists. Director Zeman was immediately invested in their vacation and gave them a list of tips for how to deal with taxi drivers in the city.
Adam took a moment between thank you's and you're too kind's to pull one of the bugs out of his glove. He darted his eyes around, blood pounding loud in his ears as he made sure no one was watching, before surreptitiously sticking it under the lip of a wooden side-table. He moved away and sipped his wine innocently, checking for witnesses. It looked like he'd gotten away clean.
Well, almost clean.
Adam noticed the sticky residue the adhesive backing had left on his fingertips and frowned…but the high of completing his first covert maneuver was worth twenty pairs of his favorite gloves. He wiped his fingers on a tablecloth and put an arm around Jason's waist, his chin held high with pride as though he'd never left the conversation.
Jason used Director Zeman to introduce them to the next set of benefactors, including the head of the Czech Vintners' Guild. When Jason asked about good wineries in the area, Mr. Paulitz eagerly lead them back to the wine bar and made them try his own label, a dark Blaufränkisch with notes of cherry and spices. Jason declared it his new favorite and was offered two cases to take home with him, while Adam slipped another bug under the frame of one of the large paintings.
He nearly had a heart attack when Paulitz exclaimed, "You are interested in these landscapes?"
But instead of calling Adam a spy, Paulitz beamed and led them on a tour of the downstairs rooms, claiming to recognize this town and that sight-line in the different paintings. Jason oohed and ahhed, listening with exquisite attention to their guide's stories. Adam smiled politely at all the guests they passed in the five rooms and let Jason provide the distraction he needed.
Adam was born for this. Each hiding place he chose was brilliant—on the back of an over-sized planter, in between the seams of an armchair, behind the flat-screen television in the den, on the cover of a dusty copy of The Maastricht Treaty on European Union in a bookshelf. Each covert placement was a build-up of gut-twisting tension, like performance nights back on Idol, as he triple-checked no one was watching him—not the other guests, not the security guards patrolling the party, not Jason. And when it was done, that same heady rush of success.
And Jason was brilliant. He smiled and shook hands with every local dignitary and businessman Paulitz introduced them to, seeming interested in everything they had to say. With Jason being so effortlessly charming, no one paid Adam much attention, allowing him to drift away a few steps every now and then to place a bug. If Jason hadn't come to the party, there was no way Adam would've been able to plant more than a couple listening devices.
But that was never an option, Adam corrected himself, because he wouldn't have come alone. If Jason hadn't come to the party, they both would've been back at the hotel, relaxing and hanging out with the band, or continuing their reunion in Adam's bed. Adam would've been with him, actually paying attention to his boyfriend, instead of concentrating on listening devices and hiding places, all but ignoring Jason so he could do a job for the CIA. Guilt crept in under Adam's buzz, souring his stomach.
"I'm sorry," Adam said, once Paulitz finally left them on their own. "I brought you out here for a vacation, and then I put you right back to work."
"If I didn't love it, I wouldn't do it for a living," Jason shrugged. He took a step closer, so he was right up against Adam's arm. "Believe me, I'd rather it was just the two of us tonight, but this was important. And I've got you all to myself tomorrow."
"Yeah you do," Adam agreed, and then chuckled. "I can't believe you got that wine for free. And he's paying for shipping and customs!"
"That was nothing." Jason lowered his voice conspiratorially, "I once got a super-famous rock star to go on a date with me."
Adam smiled and tugged on Jason's lapel. "I still don't know how you got Ryan to vouch for you."
"That was some of my best work," Jason admitted. "It involved four separate LinkedIn connections and a pair of Super Bowl tickets in the right hands just to get a phone call with him."
"And what'd you say to him?"
Jason took a sip of his wine and shook his head. "Nope, that's all I'm confessing tonight."
Adam grinned and kissed Jason's cheek.
"So what's with your new tactile fixation?" Jason asked.
"Hmm?" Adam's attention locked on the security team walking through the room, eyes alert and bodies tense, identical suits and swagger as they scrutinized the guests for suspicious behavior.
"You're touching everything. The lamps, the plants—I thought for sure you were gonna break that vase in the solarium."
Adam cringed, praying the security officers hadn't overheard Jason's comment.
Their gazes landed on Adam and Jason, and then they moved off, continuing their rounds.
Adam let out his breath and shook his head, smoothing down Jason's lapel. "Sorry. Um, just bored." So far he'd planted a bug in almost every downstairs room, including the bathroom. That just left the kitchen. "You know what?" he asked.
"That smoked cheese was awesome. What d'you say we pop into the kitchen and find out what kind it was?"
"Oh, I'm sure Nina would know—"
Adam cut him off, "She's busy with her party. Let's just ask in the kitchen, okay?"
Jason shrugged. "Sure."
Adam led the way to the back of the house and through the swinging door the wait staff used.
The kitchen was large, with an eat-in dining table set apart from the long counters and convection ovens. Two chefs were placing lumps of grey paté on trays of crackers, topping each with a little dab of black caviar. The shorter woman looked up and noticed them, and started waving her hands and saying something in Czech.
Jason stepped forward and asked slowly about the cheese in English, and Adam waited until all eyes were on his boyfriend before pressing his sticky fingers to the edge of a clock mounted on the wall at shoulder height over the dining table, totally suave and cool. It took another minute of negotiating through gestures, but the chefs eventually produced the cheese round for their scrutiny. Adam shook both their hands gratefully, and then winced when they each frowned at their fingers and washed their hands in the sink.
"What do you think?" Jason asked, looking up at him through mascaraed lashes. "Ready to call it a night?"
The yes was on the tip of Adam's tongue when he spotted the back staircase leading to the second floor. There was another whole set of rooms he hadn't bugged yet, and the staircase was unguarded, just past the chefs, who didn't look like they cared what Adam got up to. Adam still had a half-dozen bugs tucked in his glove before his assignment was technically over, and he might never get the chance to unleash his inner James Bond again….
He was almost twitching with excitement when he said, "I wanna take a look upstairs."
"Huh?" Jason followed his gaze to the back stairs and frowned. "Why? I got the impression this was a downstairs-only party."
"Come on, haven't you ever been at somebody's house and snuck into their bedroom? Get a glimpse of how they really live?" He squeezed Jason's elbow. "They're right there. We could be up and down in, like, a minute."
"What are you, eleven?" Jason asked, but his frown had eased, and Adam could tell he was considering it.
"You don't have to come," he offered.
Jason rolled his eyes. "That's what you said at LAX."
"And here you are."
Jason held out for another moment before he caved. "I guess if I'm following Adam Lambert across the Atlantic, what's a flight of stairs, huh?"
Adam set his wine glass down on the dining table, grabbed Jason's hand, and started pulling him toward the steps, grinning.
"Seriously, what have you been touching?" Jason muttered, twisting his fingers in Adam's sticky grip.
Adam had been hoping for some kind of office or meeting room, but there were only bedrooms and bathrooms on the second floor. He'd told Jason he was interested in the bedrooms, so he went back to the master suite and planted a bug behind a picture frame and another on top of the immense, antique wardrobe hulking in the faint glow of the street lamps outside.
"It looks like they live like people who use a cleaning service," Jason drawled from just inside the doorway. "And aside from the nouveau riche feel of the décor, I'm not seeing any major insight into the existence of your wealthy, European fans."
"Oh, there are vibes," Adam said breezily, giving the room a last approving look. "It's really fascinating."
Jason yawned and pressed a button on his wrist, illuminating his watch. "It's almost 2:30—and nearly noon back home. If you're done being seen, I think it's time to go. Otherwise the only thing we'll be doing at the hotel is sleeping."
With no rooms left to bug, Adam finally accepted that his assignment was over. He crossed to the door to take Jason home, teasing, "We wouldn't want that, would we—"
A door banged shut, the sound echoing clearly down the hallway. Footsteps fell heavily on the hardwood floor—security making their rounds…and coming closer. Another bedroom door squeaked as it was opened, and Adam grabbed the door next to Jason and eased it closed, his blood turning to ice in his veins.
"Are we leaving or what?" Jason pressed.
Adam glanced around the shadowy room again, this time looking for a place to hide himself. The wardrobe wasn't big enough for two, and the bathroom shower was all glass walls with no curtain to conceal them. They were trapped. Adam was about to get caught and searched, and oh god, he couldn't let that happen.
Jason was looking at him with concern, tugging on his shoulder, and Adam latched onto him as inspiration struck. He stepped into Jason's space and used his hands to tilt Jason's head up, kissed him without preamble. Jason opened for him, let Adam push him back against the wall and slide their tongues together. But when Adam grabbed Jason's belt, Jason pushed his hands away firmly.
"Don't," Jason mumbled before leaning up for another kiss.
Adam couldn't take no for an answer. He stroked one hand down Jason's neck and found the end of Jason's belt with the other, tried to unthread the buckle one-handed.
"Stop," Jason said, pushing Adam's hand away again. "Wait 'til the hotel, geez."
"I can't wait that long," Adam said, and winced at the annoyed look on Jason's face. "Baby, I missed you for weeks."
"Me, too, but not here."
"C'mon," he pleaded. "Just a quickie. No one'll catch us."
"Adam," Jason argued, obviously not giving in.
And Adam wished he could take his time, explain about his top secret assignment, warn Jason that they were about to be shot or jailed for espionage the second those guys caught them and found the last four bugs on Adam. But he couldn't. So he ignored Jason's protest and kissed him hard.
Adam's gloved fingers slid through Jason's hair and pulled the way Jason liked, then roved under Jason's jacket, across his chest, palming over his nipples. He rolled his hips against Jason's and bit at his lip, dove in with his tongue and used every dirty trick he knew to seduce his boyfriend.
Jason kept mumbling but didn't push him off, and when Adam squeezed Jason's cock through his slacks, Jason's head fell back and he groaned, "You fucker."
Adam took that for a yes and dropped to his knees, jerking Jason's belt open and his zipper down. Security could be just outside already, might open the door any second. Adam couldn't leave anything to chance. He pulled Jason's clothes down, freed Jason's hardening cock and took it into his dry mouth.
Jason's hands pet at his hair as Jason gasped, "God, this is so stupid. Oh, there…."
Adam sucked fast and urgent, ignoring the nauseating twist in his gut, the way his balls wanted to shrivel up and hide inside his body. He worked his tongue, tried to build up some saliva despite the fear that beat like bat wings against the inside of his skull.
And then the door opened.
The first security guard flicked on the lights and exclaimed something Adam couldn't make out, standing just three feet away from them. Adam rocked back on his heels, his hands rising instinctively to show he was unarmed. Jason squeaked an embarrassed, high-pitched noise and fumbled to put his cock away, his mouth open and face flaming red as he stared at the big security guards gaping back at them.
And then the shouting started.
Adam had no idea what they were saying, but he recognized the inflections, so he shouted back, "Sorry! I'm so sorry, we didn't think anyone would mind…. Look, he just flew in today, okay? It's a couple's reunion! There was wine, and we got a little carried away, you understand?"
The guards shook their heads and shouted right back, clearly not understanding at all but believing just enough of the circumstances to look more offended than suspicious. One of them said something into a walkie-talkie, lips curled in disgust as he turned his back on the two of them, and Adam breathed a sigh of relief as neither made a move to search them.
For the first time all evening, Jason was no help, just standing there with trembling hands, looking humiliated. And instead of feeling relief at fooling security, Adam suddenly wanted to throw up all over again.
Adam made himself climb to his feet and follow the guards' motions to leave the room. In the hallway, scolding fingers were wagged in their faces, and then they were ordered, through hushed voices and repeated gestures, down the curved marble staircase. Adam took Jason's elbow and steered him down the steps, keeping his chin up, a fake smile plastered across his face.
The security officer from the front door was waiting for them at the bottom. He scowled at them and escorted them to the door, opening it for them with minimal civility. The officer sniffed as they passed under his gaze, and closed the door behind them with a sharp thud, and then they were outside, with only the high fence and cluster of guards on the driveway between them and freedom.
Adam looked around for their driver, anxious to get off the property before security changed their minds. He finally spotted their chauffeur chatting and smoking with the cluster of black-suited men over by the row of parked luxury cars, and Adam's jaw clenched. Their driver spotted them and shook hands with the men before turning to fetch the car, and it was all just too fucking much, one final blow bringing Adam's delusions collapsing down around him.
Special assignment his ass.
It was a fucking charity party at a nice house in the suburbs, not the Russian Consulate or The Forbidden City. The guys on the driveway weren't security guards—just chauffeurs. The security setup at the front door was lighter than general admission gates at most of his shows. The security team had firmly—and politely—escorted them from the building when they'd been caught upstairs.
Adam's cheeks burned with disgust at his own naïveté. He'd bought into the mystique of the CIA, assumed a special assignment meant danger and intrigue, but for all of his panic, there'd never been any real danger…just his imagination running away with him. He'd let the CIA use his name to exploit the generosity of a fan and a nice charity full of decent people, just so he could role play some childhood fantasy. And worst of all, he'd used….
Jason stood next to him in the chilly air, his hands shoved in his pockets and chin tucked into his chest, refusing to even look at Adam. And that was Adam's fault. He knew Jason's thing about his professional reputation, about how far Jason was willing to go in public, and he'd forced his boyfriend into it anyway, deliberately set him up to get caught with his pants down and cock out. Jason would probably get on the first flight back to L.A. and never speak to him again.
The car pulled up, and Jason didn't wait for the driver to open the door. Adam followed him down the steps and climbed into the Mercedes, careful to leave some space between them on the backseat. The engine purred, the car slid through the gate, and Adam watched the streetlights flashing over Jason's bowed head as Adam struggled to figure out how to close the divide between them.
Jason spoke first. "This was a mistake."
"Coming here," Jason elaborated, finally looking at Adam, his eyes hard to read in the low light.
"You think…" Adam started, but cut himself off, too scared to continue. This—this was what real terror felt like.
"You didn't want to be here, and we're obviously too horny to be out in public. We should've gone straight back to the hotel and fucked 'til we'd gotten it out of our systems."
Adam blinked and tried to sort out Jason's words. "You're not mad at me?"
Jason snorted. "Of course I am. That was totally your fault, and if any paparazzi'd been outside, you'd be so dead right now. But it was my fault, too. I used to be able to resist you, remember?" He smiled at Adam, love and lust and embarrassment wrapped up in one beautiful expression, and Adam's heart broke and glued itself back together in the space of one breath.
He slid across the seat, wrapping an arm around Jason's shoulders.
"I mean, at this rate," Jason continued, "I might jump you on one of those romantic, tourist-trap bridges tomorrow, just to get some of your cock."
"I promise it won't come to that," Adam said, smiling into Jason's hair, grateful it wasn't over yet—that he would get the chance to explain on his own terms, before Jason walked out on him.
He didn't have to explain; he could let Jason keep believing it was pent-up lust, pretend this whole thing hadn't happened. The CIA had sworn him to confidentiality and stressed the importance of keeping his recruitment a secret at all costs—they would expect nothing less now. But that wasn't a role Adam wanted to play anymore.
He reached across Jason to get at his own left hand and wormed the slip of paper out of his glove.
The crumpled paper and dots dropped in Jason's lap, and Jason picked it up and said, "What's this?"
"That's how I got the invitation," Adam confessed. He flicked his eyes to the back of their driver's head and said carefully, "When we get to the hotel, I'm gonna tell you something really important, and I really need you to forgive me when I'm done."
He squeezed Jason's hand and waited for Jason's wide-eyed nod before taking a deep breath and doing what he should've done back at the venue.
"As for you," Adam said loudly, pulling Jason's hand up so he could speak directly into the bugs. "If you assholes are listening right now, tell your bosses I quit."
Jason scrunched up his face. "You're crazy."
"Baby, you have no idea," Adam agreed.
The moment his head broke the surface, he heard Jason yelling, "Adam, phone!"
Adam turned around and saw Jason sitting in a pool chair, waving Adam's cell phone over his head. He swam back to the shallow end and stood up, drying his hands on the towel at the tiled-edge of his backyard pool. Jason tossed him his phone, and Adam toweled off the right side of his head before bringing the phone to his ear.
"Mr. Lambert?" a woman's voice asked.
"They got a message from the action man. I'm happy—"
"Oh for fuck's sake," Adam groaned, shaking his head at Jason. "I told you people months ago: I'm done."
"Scientology?" Jason mouthed.
"CIA," Adam mouthed back.
Jason rolled his eyes and made a rude gesture.
"Mr. Lambert, we're only asking for two hours of your time. There's a new exhibit coming to—"
"Click," Adam said, and ended the call.
"What'd they want this time?" Jason asked.
"Don't know, don't care." Adam climbed the short ladder and toweled off the rest of his hair as he walked around to the chairs.
"Baby, you look just like Daniel Craig in those trunks," Jason grinned.
Adam dropped the towel and phone on his own chair and bent low over Jason's, lifting his boyfriend's prescription sunglasses off his nose and setting them carefully aside. "Do I?"
"Mmhm." Jason leaned his head up for a kiss, which Adam gladly gave, his hand sliding across the suntan oil on Jason's hot skin.
"Wanna put on Casino Royale and do it in the living room?"