Fandom: American Idol S8/Glam Rock RPF
Pairing: Adam Lambert/Tommy Ratliff
Genre: Glamnation Tour, PWP
Word Count: 1,300
Disclaimer: No infringement on the rights of real people intended. Not profiting in any way.
Notes: Fills my Kink Bingo square "Nippleplay / Tit Torture." Beta by cinaea.
Summary: Adam got his nipples pierced a couple weeks ago, and Tommy knows they're sore as hell. But the fact that he's got 'em, got little barbells through his nipples that he feels every time he moves, that are gonna feel all kinds of good when someone flicks them, licks them….
Yeah. Tommy thinks about them a lot.
Read the story on Archive Of Our Own or LiveJournal.
Cam called him a tease the other day. Which makes, like, no fucking sense.
Tommy isn't leading anyone on. No way is he gonna start a relationship when he's about to leave on a world tour (and holy crap, just thinking those two words makes him hyperventilate; he's gonna be a jittering mess when he gets on that plane). He knows better than to get involved with a girl he's gonna have to leave for six months. That's why he's called up his favorite ex-girlfriend for a few rounds; there's no way either of them thinks they're getting back together.
And all the making out he does with Adam, on-stage and off-, well…. Adam's so fucking cool about it, laid back, and it's pretty fucking amazing, so why not? It's not like it's a big deal. And if the awesome, warm ache in his jaw after an hour of kissing makes him wonder what it would be like to be sprawled out and drooling with Adam's big cock riding his tongue, that's between him and his jerk-off fantasies.
So he doesn't get who the hell Cam thinks he's leading on.
Adam got his nipples pierced a couple weeks ago, and they're still sore. He's hiding it, but it's screamingly obvious to anyone who knows him.
If there's one thing Adam does better than anyone else, it's give amazing hugs—and sing, duh, but Adam doesn't need any ego stroking on that front. Adam's hugs are usually full-contact whirlwinds, big bear hugs that leave Tommy dangling a foot off the floor, laughing and hanging on for dear life. Since he got the piercings, though, Adam's been keeping his distance. He angles his chest a little, and his arms are tense, and he never picks Tommy up anymore.
But it isn't just the awkward restraint in his hugs that gives him away. They're in dress rehearsal mode, and Adam keeps taking off his glittered robe two songs into the set, instead of the full five. He isn't doing all the choreography either, keeping his arms low and only half-committing to the bigger gestures, as if the arm movements will drag the vest over his nipples, creating too much sensation, too much for him to take.
Nipple piercings feel good. Not that Tommy has first-hand experience, but there's only one reason you'd pierce your nipples, right? So Tommy had asked Adam about it last week, when they were drinking at his house after In-N-Out burgers—whether Adam had taken them for a spin yet.
Adam had winced, his arms pulling reflexively closer to his chest, but after a few seconds he licked his lips and admitted it'd felt good…at least a little bit. Like, they'll totally be worth it once he's healed up, but in the meantime they're still too….
Tommy's never gonna go the body-piercing route himself; keeping his lip ring clean had been a bitch and a half. He'll stick with his ears from now on. But the fact that Adam's got 'em, got little barbells through his nipples that he feels every time he moves, that are gonna feel all kinds of good when someone flicks them, licks them….
Tommy thinks about them a lot.
He can't help himself when they're running through the choreography. Every time Adam tugs on Tommy's hair, grinding up against him for a couple measures, all Tommy can think about is giving it back. So when Adam lets him go, Tommy plasters himself against him, his head rubbing against Adam's chest, finding the sensitive spots that make Adam gasp into his microphone and flub the next line. And when they're squeezed together on a dressing room couch, the whole band hanging out and talking tech before and after rehearsals, Tommy has to keep shifting, his body pressed tight to Adam's so his shoulder digs into Adam's chest just right. He stops putting up with Adam's half-hug bullshit, too, throwing himself into Adam's arms and clinging until Adam whimpers way down in his throat and pushes him off.
Adam must be reading his mind, because his arms are no longer welcoming when Tommy approaches. When they're high and making out on Adam's couch, he keeps a bruising grip on Tommy's wrists, like he knows what Tommy would do to him, given half a chance. And when they're on stage together, Adam's taking it out on Tommy's hair, Tommy's mouth, harder than ever. Tommy can taste the difference between choreographed make outs and the keyed up bite in Adam's kisses now. They're building to a fever pitch, and Tommy doesn't know what's going to happen next—what he wants to happen. He's pretty sure Adam isn't going to fire him, but beyond that….
They're a week away from their first Glamnation performance when it boils over.
Tommy's heading off stage, his bass left behind in its stand, still humming through the amps and vibrating in his fingers and bloodstream. His mind's on the shower he's gonna take instead of on the jumble of cases and cords all over the floor, and his foot catches the edge of a crate, sending him crashing into Adam.
Adam hisses and grabs his shoulders, steadying him. Tommy mumbles, "Sorry," and, "Thanks," as he finds his balance, hoping Monty and Longineu didn't see his graceful dismount.
But Adam doesn't let go. He squeezes hard on Tommy's arms and spins them around to shove Tommy up against the concrete wall.
The impact jars Tommy into full alertness, and he starts to apologize again, but Cam walks past, laughing. She gives Tommy a you-asked-for-it smirk, and he wants to give her the finger, because she seriously has the wrong impression. This wasn't on purpose—
Adam growls and shakes Tommy by the shoulders. "What the fuck?" he snaps, anger narrowing his eyes. "Can't you go even one hour without torturing me?"
"I didn't mean to," Tommy tries to explain, but he's flushing with guilt for all the times he did. And Adam, the mind-reader, tightens his grip. "You said they felt good," Tommy blurts. "A little bit. I just wanted to—"
"I also said they still hurt like hell," Adam says, but his eyes drop once, twice to Tommy's lips. "So either you're looking to get your ass kicked, or you're pulling my pigtails."
Tommy snorts. If he wanted more of Adam's attention, he would just ask. Or crawl into Adam's lap and fucking take it.
He doesn't get a chance to answer, though, because Adam steps closer, pinning him against the wall with his hips and pressing a palm over one of Tommy's nipples. "Is that it, Tommy Joe? You feeling unsatisfied? Wanting more?" Adam rocks up against Tommy's cock, and grinds his palm over his nipple.
Tommy's hips buck, and he moans a little at the stinging pressure. Adam makes a growly-laugh, so Tommy mutters, "Fuck you, as if," because he can never stop his stupid mouth even when he wants it to shut up. Like right now, with Adam looking like he wants to eat him up, and Tommy running hotter than he's been in months.
Adam retaliates with a vicious pinch to his nipple that shoots sharp to Tommy's stiffening cock. When his mouth opens on another groan, another taunt, Adam shuts it up for him, lips bruising-hard on his, tongue pushing deep, and his fingers tight-tight-tight on Tommy's nipple.
Tommy whimpers, and Adam drags his mouth across Tommy's cheek. "Done teasing me, glitterbaby?"
It's a challenge, a dare, but also unmistakably an offer, and Tommy spares a single glance to make sure the side-stage is clear before answering.
"'M not a fucking tease," he says, and drops to his knees to prove it.