Adam Lambert/Tommy Joe Ratliff. NC-17. ~2600 words. Porny werefic coda to Skin This Cat.
It’s only been a couple of weeks since Adam came snarling out of the were closet. Maybe in a few more, Tommy’ll be completely used to looking down to find a snow leopard crashed in bed with him.
The clock on the bedside table says it’s quarter past midnight. Adam’s flaked out on the foot of the bed, dozing, tail curled over his face, while Tommy flicks through the hotel’s on-demand. He keeps missing bits and pieces of whatever he occasionally lands on, his gaze sliding down to Adam and sticking there. It’s only been a couple of weeks since Adam came snarling out of the were closet. Maybe in a few more, Tommy’ll be completely used to looking down to find a snow leopard crashed in bed with him.
Careful not to jostle the bed too much, Tommy grabs the container of leftover fried chicken from the minifridge along with a beer. A little over an hour ago, he totally had sex with a were. He’s got the teeth marks on the back of his neck and the shape of Adam’s nails-turned-claws dug into his hips to prove it. And it was really, really fucking good. Like pure rapture, an awe-inspiring type of good. Like he really wouldn’t mind doing it again, if Adam would ever get up from his nap.
Stretching back out on the bed, propped up on a big mound of pillows, Tommy cracks open his beer for a quick swig before setting it on the nightstand. He’d eaten with Adam right after they cleaned up, but apparently being hunted down and fucked stupid works up a pretty good appetite because he’s starving all over again. Cold chicken and Weeds reruns isn’t the worst way to kill time.
Keeping an eye on Adam’s face, Tommy creeps his bare feet closer to long, dense fur. Closer, closer, Adam’s ear twitching but his eyes staying shut, and there, perfect, he’s got his toes tucked under Adam’s belly and Adam barely snuffles. Soft and cosy and warm, better than a goose down blanket. The room’s warm enough he’s lounging around shirtless in a pair of old too-big jeans bummed off Adam, but his feet get cold easy. Pleased with the world, he grabs up his beer.
About halfway through the episode–and halfway through the chicken–Adam heaves a long, huffing sigh and licks his whiskers, huffs again as he tucks his chin back down on his paws. His tail thumps Tommy’s ankles once, twice, and freezes.
Chewing very, very slowly, Tommy carefully sets his beer aside. One of Adam’s eyes cracks open. Tommy swallows.
Head lifting, Adam scents the air. He turns to fix Tommy with that unnaturally bright, unblinking gaze, then rocks up onto his feet, bed shifting. When he yawns, he sprouts a forest of really fucking deadly-looking teeth.
“Hey,” Tommy says, edging the chicken away. “Good nap?”
With a soft chuff, Adam pads up the bed, licking his whiskers again. He sniffs at Tommy’s knee, then his hand, and lets out a loud, growling purr. Tommy’s stomach tightens with nerves. He knows Adam’s not going to eat him, but Adam is a fuck-off giant predator with claws and teeth and there’s that primitive part of his brain that is scared shitless of being on the other end of them.
Wet and rough, Adam’s tongue swipes over Tommy’s palm, chasing after the chicken grease clinging to his fingers. Tommy puffs out a relieved laugh, flattening his fingers out so Adam can lick between them. When the grease is all gone, and the salt of Tommy’s skin with it, Adam lets out a disappointed snuffle. He noses at Tommy’s other hand, looking for more, but that one’s still clean.
Groping for the container, Tommy tears off a chunk of leg, offering it up on the flat of his palm. Adam snatches it up delicately in his teeth, chomps it down in one go and comes back to lick up the bits of batter left behind, tongue rasping all the way down past Tommy’s wrist halfway up his forearm. Grabbing up the whole chicken leg this time, Tommy goes to tear off another chunk–he’s pretty sure all those small bones aren’t a good idea for Adam to swallow whole–and drops the whole works when Adam noses in trying to nip it up before Tommy’s ready.
“Dude, that one was all your fault,” Tommy says, chasing after the leg since the chunk’s already gone the way of the first. He swipes at the grease smeared on his chest with his other hand. “No bitching me out for dropping food in your bed.”
Adam growls, low and dangerous, and shoves his face into Tommy’s hand, licking at the grease again, following it down to where it’s glistening on Tommy’s skin, big wide, warm ticklish swipes. Laughing, Tommy tries to push him off but Adam growls again, catching Tommy’s hand gently between razor-point teeth in warning.
“Oh come on,” Tommy says, going still. “It’s not like I ate it all. There’s more.”
Releasing Tommy’s hand, Adam chuffs quietly, then goes right back to licking, taking an experimental swipe at Tommy’s palm before giving that one up as a lost cause and heading back down for Tommy’s belly. Tommy sucks in a sharp breath, because that? That is kinda fucked up. It tickles but it doesn’t, fur and whiskers and rough, wet tongue dragging over his skin. Trying really hard not to think about why, he digs his fingers into the chicken leg, tosses it haphazardly back into the container, and smears his fingers close to Adam’s face. Up over his chest to the hollow of his throat, and Adam follows the whole way, rough, grating noise echoing low in his throat, almost-purr. He scents Tommy’s neck, nuzzling and backing off slightly when there’s nothing more to lick up.
Fingers tightening in Adam’s fur, Tommy quickly swipes his fingers over his chest again, grazing his nipples, and Adam’s tongue follows, slow, perfect rasp. “Oh fuck,” Tommy says, and seriously, what the fucking fuck is he doing here, not saying a damn thing to stop Adam as he heads back down, noses at Tommy’s hipbones, his bellybutton, licks again still looking for more.
It’s really, really easy for Tommy to dip his fingers in chicken grease again and smear it over his stomach. Way too fucking easy. Adam gives another half-chuff, half-growl, clearly fucking delighted, and licks once straight across Tommy’s belly, long and slow like he doesn’t give a flying fuck if it takes him from now to dawn to get to the other side. From there he goes on down, rumble in his throat as he scents more of Tommy through the smell of cooked chicken, and when he starts nosing at Tommy’s crotch, snuffing and nuzzling and purring louder, Tommy’s pretty sure the one thing he’s not supposed to do is reach down and tug open his fly.
And holy fuck, Adam goes kinda crazy then. Licks right on in through it, grazing Tommy’s half-hard dick, trying to stuff his face right in there to get at more skin. He paws at Tommy’s thigh, claws hooking in denim to drag his jeans down, and they really are too fucking big, giving up the goods without so much as a stitch of resistance. Then he’s kinda naked, and Adam’s kind of giving him the start of a really fucking amazing blowjob because it’s all fucking tongue rasping over his balls, up the shaft pinning his dick to his belly, and as tongues go, Adam’s is pretty fucking strong. Like Adam could probably get him off sort of strong.
Now he’s totally having sex with a were. He hiccups a laugh through a groan as Adam licks at the head of his cock, his knee jerking up. Okay, fuck, that’s maybe too much. But Adam comes back, does it again, and it’s a good kind of too much, rough and wet, and Tommy draws his other knee up, can’t help rocking into it.
Adam’s teeth, Adam’s really big, really fucking sharp teeth, are right fucking there. He’s staring straight down, eyes shocked wide, and every now and then, he catches a flash of pure, deadly white alongside the pink of Adam’s tongue. He’s gone off the deep end, certifiably fucking insane, crazy as all fuck. Who the fucking hell gets a hummer from a fucking shifted were?
The same kind of messed-up fuck that gets off on it so good he thinks maybe he’s gonna pass out, that’s who. Before he can even breathe again, fur’s becoming hair in his hands, and Adam’s nosing at his dick, saying, “Tommy, oh my god, can I fuck you, tell me I can fuck you, you smell so good.”
Beyond words, Tommy croaks out some random noise. Either way, Adam gets the message loud and clear, scrambling up to his knees to yank Tommy’s jeans the rest of the way off, haul Tommy straight up into his lap. Come-slick fingers smear Tommy’s asshole wet, press in, push up.
“M’good,” Tommy says, dazed still, “you can like, go for it.”
“You didn’t,” Adam starts, shivering so hard it travels down through him and up through Tommy. He pushes his fingers in harder, curves them slightly on the way out, pressing against Tommy’s rim. “You’ve still got my come in you.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Tommy says, face flaming red. Great, just fucking great. He’s a-okay with Adam shifted and licking him to orgasm, but one mention of leaving Adam’s jizz where he shot it makes him want to squirm out of his skin. Awesome. “What did you figure I was gonna do?”
“Clean it out,” Adam says, mostly a groan as he fucks his fingers back in again, dragging in huge, deep breaths like he can actually smell his scent on Tommy, buried deep inside. Bending almost double with Tommy hauled up haphazardly in his lap, Adam bites at Tommy’s chest, tiny nips and sucks nothing at all like what he’d done as a leopard. “You’re perfect, fucking gorgeous, perfect mate. God, I want you so much.”
“I’m right– Christ, I’m right fucking here.” Caught up in Adam’s need, the way it pours off him, sluices down Tommy’s body like something he could rub into skin, Tommy’s not thinking clearly. Not thinking at all. He gropes between his spread legs for Adam’s cock, finds it slippery-wet with precome, and somewhere along the way his brain translates that into absolutely slick enough. Fitting the head to his asshole, he breathes out, pushes it in. The second his body opens up for it, Adam takes over, slow steady push that curls Tommy’s toes and shreds his breath to ribbons, and fuck, just fuck, what the fuck is his life that he’s suddenly on his back twice a night taking it up the ass from his fucking boss, who is a motherfucking were, and it’s all so good he wouldn’t give a shit if his heart gave out right then and there.
Except he would, because then he’d miss the moment Adam’s bottoms out and the gritty-slick drag becomes a sweet, full ache. He finally manages to fit a scrap of air back in his lungs, blinking his eyes back into focus to find Adam staring down at him, rapt and fucking glowing as he grinds down, gets used to having something so big up inside him again so soon.
“Sore?” Adam asks, restlessly smoothing his hands down Tommy’s splayed thighs, over his hips and belly and skirting his cock resting soft but thick near the crook of his thigh.
“Little bit.” Clenching down to test it out, he eases up again pretty fast. “Think you can do me all sweet and easy?”
Biting at the inside of his lip, Adam nods. He rises up on his knees, carefully pushing Tommy’s down close to his chest, weight balanced on the palms of his hands as he slides a few impossible inches deeper. Tommy squeezes his eyes shut on a groan as Adam’s hips roll, barely much of anything at all but it feels good, so fucking good, that Tommy clutches at Adam’s back. “Yeah?” Adam says.
“Oh fuck, yeah,” Tommy agrees. When Adam’s hips roll again, he lets his body go loose, hand sliding down Adam’s chest to press against his belly, his legs sliding down a fraction too, caught on the crooks of Adam’s elbows. The soft roll slowly turns to tiny, easy fucks, easier again when Adam ducks his head to add some more spit to the mix of old lube and fresh come. Low-grade pleasure buzzes beneath Tommy’s skin, nothing urgent, just really, really awesome to bask in, and he rubs at the lighter trail of hair on Adam’s belly, follows it down to where Adam’s fucking into him, spreads his fingers wide to feel Adam’s cock sliding on though.
Adam says, “God,” thick and rough, muscles standing in sharp, beautiful relief as he fights the urge Tommy can feel thrumming through him, the need to fuck, to come.
“This gonna do it for you?” asks Tommy, feeling like he’s drugged, blissed-out on nothing more than a couple of really good fucks.
“Close,” Adam says, trembling as he noses at the crook of Tommy’s neck, his long strokes not so smooth anymore. “Fuck, I want to come in you again. You just, you smell so fucking good. I want to feel it.”
Swallowing hard, Tommy drags his arms up, loops them sloppily around Adam’s neck. His breath catches in his throat twice before he gets out, “C’mon and do it if you wanna.”
Adam groans like the sound’s wrenched straight out of the pit of his stomach. Mid-thrust, he shoves harder, quicker to pull out and drive in again, and fuck if it doesn’t hurt some, raw stinging burn spiking suddenly. As fast as it’s there it’s gone again, buried under hazy pleasure as Adam rolls his dick against his belly with the palm of one hand. It’s good and better again when Adam fists it tight, constant steady pressure as Adam fucks him, bites at his throat, his mouth, fucks him harder and goes in all the way when orgasm hits.
Long before Tommy would’ve thought he’d be ready, Adam pulls out, cock thick enough still that Tommy really feels it the whole way. Shuffling back, Adam catches Tommy’s legs before they hit the bed, shoving them roughly back up so Tommy’s hips rock off the bed. Pressing his face to Tommy’s thigh, he drags in one long, heavy breath after another, scenting Tommy again, wallowing in the smell of his come spilled inside Tommy like he needs it to live.
Not sure what to do except lie there and let Adam go for it, Tommy flings an arm across his eyes, blocking out the light. He can’t block out what Adam’s doing, though, or the picture he imagines he makes right now with his legs in the air and his asshole freshly fucked. Forget his face, the back of his neck, his chest, all of him is burning up.
Slowly letting him down, his ass on Adam’s thighs again, Adam asks, “Would it be easier if I rolled you on your belly first?”
“Jesus,” Tommy mutters. “Maybe.”
“Tommy,” Adam says, like he thinks Tommy’s being silly.
“You’re sniffing me,” Tommy says. “I got off on you fucking licking me, and then you go and fuck me stupid, and then you gotta smell me after, like it doesn’t already fucking reek of sex in here.”
Sounding less sure, more worried, Adam says, “Tommy,” again, but Tommy cuts right through that, saying, “I should be freaking out.”
“This isn’t you freaking out?”
“No,” Tommy says, dropping his arm. “This is me saying it’s really fucking hot, and I like it, like, a whole fucking lot, and that part’s kinda freaking me out.”
Slowly, a stroking up Tommy’s side as Adam shifts over to settle down next to him, Adam says, “So you’re freaking out that you’re not freaking out.”
Tommy wrinkles his nose. “Shut up.”
“You’re adorable,” Adam says, pecking him on the cheek. “I’m going to keep you.”
Sliding Adam a sideways glance, knowing the delighted, addictive smile he’s going to find on Adam’s face, the one that he put there, Tommy says, “Look at what the cat dragged in.”