Adam Lambert/Neil Lambert/Tommy Joe Ratliff. NC-17. ~7600 words. Double penetration. Sibling incest. Part Four of Man with the Hex series.
When Tommy goes down on him with a shallow moan and Adam says, “Fuck, baby,” Neil honestly doesn’t know which one of them he’s talking to.
Hand raised, Tommy says, “He gets my vote.”
Adam beams and grabs onto one of the bars overhead as the bus takes a corner. He doesn’t look drunk yet, but he’s close. “See?” he says to his ragtag band of sexual misfits. “I’m absolutely the best at kissing. Tommy would know.”
“I would,” Tommy agrees. “That tongue is in my mouth five nights out of seven.”
Pointing at Tommy with a half-empty bottle of beer, Neil says, “You are what we like to call biased.”
“Not really,” Tommy says. “I’m just tellin’ it like it is.”
“There’s only one way to tell for sure,” Cam says.
Grinning so hard his flushed cheeks turn white, Isaac scrambles out from underneath her to perch eagerly on the edge of the couch. Of course he’s into it. He’s been dying for Adam’s tongue stuffed down his throat since Atlanta. “You don’t mean…”
“I do,” Cam says solemnly.
“No,” Sasha gasps dramatically, face frozen in a parody of shock before she collapses back in a giggling heap.
“You are all insane,” Neil twists over the arm of his chair to root around in the cooler for another beer. “I’m having no part of this.”
“But you have to,” Cam says, not skipping a beat as Neil flips her off. “Otherwise the results are skewed.”
“Hey,” Adam says, trying to frown through the grin plastered across his face, “hey. Shouldn’t somebody check in with me to see if I’m okay with this? I’m not a whore!”
“You so are,” Neil grumbles.
“You’re pretty easy, though,” Tommy says. “And we’re all pretty hot, so.”
“And you did lick my neck once already,” Cam points out.
Adam opens his mouth, closes it again, and frowns. He stares at Neil as if this is somehow Neil’s doing, not the fault of his own oversexed libido strutting across the stage every chance it gets. “Well,” he says slowly, deviously, “if Neil isn’t in, there’s really no point.”
“I’ll take his turn!” Terrence calls, slapping his hands together and cackling, tumbling back into Sasha’s lap as she hoots with him.
Calmly, Tommy says, “Neil’s in.”
“What the fuck,” Neil says.
“You did worse already,” Tommy says, sly smile only partly hidden behind his beer. “Way, way worse than just macking on him.”
Neil goes cold straight to the tips of his toes. “I,” he croaks.
“I remember this story,” Isaac says, flailing at hand at Neil, as if Neil is going to provide anything at all like details given his enthusiasm for Adam’s tongue. “Your birthday last year, you-”
“Got really, really drunk,” Neil cuts in. “Spectacularly drunk, a lot like I plan to do tonight, and anything you may or may not have heard from that little shit over there is to be taken with a giant grain of salt.”
Tommy plasters on an innocent who, me? face.
Adam snorts, smart enough to not buy into that shit despite Tommy’s current status as tour boyfriend, or whatever the hell he is–Neil doesn’t actually need to know, since it seems to be working for them, so he didn’t ask. He’s slightly concerned that Adam’s setting himself up for a heartbreak to rival the disaster that was falling out of love with his first love, but Adam’s got a career to worry about now, and Tommy really doesn’t strike Neil as that much of a jackass. Brad wasn’t a jackass, either, but he was a hell of a lot less easy-going. Adam likes to say ‘passionate’. Neil likes to say ‘drama queen’.
Tommy, though. If Tommy got any more easy-going, he’d be comatose. That is exactly the sort of influence Adam needs in the glittering mystical adventure he tries to call a life.
Adam smacks his hands together. “So who’s first?” Shockingly, Tommy’s arm doesn’t rocket into the air. Looking slightly confused about this, Adam turns to Cam, the closest on his left. “Okay, babe, how about you?”
Cam flutters her eyelashes, says, “Ooh, babe,” inexplicably in a southern drawl, and tilts her face up expectantly.
“Don’t make fun of me,” Adam says fondly.
Of course Neil watches. Everyone else is watching, it would be ridiculous not to. Adam kisses Cam the same way he’s gone after anybody Neil’s ever seen him kiss, sweet and soft at first before diving in. It lasts barely a handful of seconds, one last thank-you peck to her lips before he pulls back, smiling. She grins at him and gives a thumbs-up.
Giving her a quick one-armed hug, Adam says, “Next?”
Between Terrence’s and Sasha’s kisses, Sutan wanders out of the back wondering what the hell they’re up to, and Adam rounds on him to an explosion of applause, bending him over one arm to attempt sucking his tongue out of his mouth. Somewhere in the middle of that, Tommy flops down in Neil’s chair, half on top of him, and says, “So you gonna?”
“Gonna what,” Neil grunts. “God, your ass really is bony.”
“Kiss him,” Tommy says, taking a casual hit off his beer. “And I mean really, really kiss him.”
Anything to keep from looking Tommy in the face, Neil ends up watching Sasha try to eat Adam’s mouth, laughing through it as he fights her for control. This is not a conversation that needs to happen.
Tommy slings an arm around Neil’s shoulders. “C’mon, man. You’re not seriously gonna try that shit with me.”
“What shit with you,” Neil grumbles, wishing he had more than a mouthful left in his bottle. Giving it a rough shove into the box with the rest of the empties, he stretches his arm out, desperate to nab just one more with the tips of his fingers. He gets it when Tommy gives him a helpful shove. Like hell he’s going to say thank you, though.
For somebody that gives off as much of a careless, carefree aura as Tommy, he’s almost painfully aware of his body in much the same way Adam is, always knowing exactly how to use it to get attention when he wants it, divert it when he doesn’t. Right now, he wants Neil’s attention, and Neil absolutely detests that he’s got it.
“You saying you wouldn’t?” Tommy asks.
“Saying I wouldn’t what, what are you even talking about?”
Before Tommy has a chance to answer, Adam’s shadow falls over them. Tommy looks up instantly, a tension singing through his body that wasn’t there seconds before, tension Neil wouldn’t even notice except Tommy is right on top of him. When Adam’s fingers curve beneath Tommy’s chin, the hard kick of his heart echoes straight through his back into Neil’s chest. “What’re you doing over here?” Adam asks.
“Waiting,” Tommy says, tongue sliding out to wet his lips. His fingers dig slightly into Neil’s shoulder, dragging Neil into the middle of something he’s not so sure he wants to be involved in again. “Thought I was gonna have to get some action on my own.”
Adam’s gaze briefly flickers to Neil’s face. “Did you?”
“He wouldn’t go for it,” Tommy says with a shrug. “Guess I’m not pretty enough for him.”
“Oh, baby, you are so pretty enough for him,” Adam says, and Neil hisses in a breath, about to ask what the fuck Adam thinks he’s doing, before he realises Adam’s voice is barely above a whisper. Regardless of how closely everyone else is watching, with the thud of music in the background, the thrum of rubber on asphalt as the bus rolls on, no one’s going to overhear.
Somehow, Tommy settles deeper into Neil’s lap without moving so much as a single muscle. “Gonna kiss me?” Tommy asks.
He gets his answer in Adam licking his mouth open right there in Neil’s lap. One of Adam’s hands comes down on the back of the chair for balance as he tilts Tommy’s chin up further, shadows deepening on his cheeks as he sucks at Tommy’s tongue, presses in closer like he plans on climbing up to eat Tommy’s face off. Not really sure how it happened, Neil ends up holding onto Tommy’s waist as he goes loose and boneless, melting into Adam’s touch like Neil’s seen too many times on stage to count. But Neil’s never felt it before. Never realised that Adam could push for so much more up there, and Tommy would probably give it to him.
“Shit,” Neil hisses under his breath, cold shock chasing away the heat crawling up his spine when their kiss breaks and Adam’s gaze lands dark and heavy on him. Tommy sinks back with a satisfied sound, legs sprawled carelessly wide, the inside of his thigh rubbing Adam’s knee.
From somewhere very far away, Isaac says, “I know that look. Tommy’s vote is still fuck yes.”
“Which leaves you,” Adam says to Neil like a threat.
“Can I default to yes?” Neil says, not noticing how tightly he’s holding onto Tommy’s side until Tommy’s breath catches. “Because I can’t even begin to express how deeply my desire to not have that thing you call a tongue anywhere near me runs, and I think- What the fuck, Adam, Adam, no-”
The very worst thing about all of this, the audience–even considering its collective insanity–Tommy perched in his lap in exactly the right position to notice if Neil has anything other than a completely platonic reaction, and entirely beside the fact that Adam really is an amazing kisser, is that Neil already knew. And now he knows that peer pressure does absolutely nothing to knock Adam off his game. It’s a shame. Neil had been really hoping he could come out of this honestly claiming that Adam kissed like a lovesick llama.
The second Adam stops trying to reach his tonsils, Neil says, “You kiss like a lovesick llama,” anyway.
“Llamas,” Adam says, entirely without a single scrap of logic, “are your favourite.”
“Aw,” Tommy says, voice pitched loud enough for the rest of the crew to hear, “Adam reminds him of Mr. Humphries.”
“What, no,” Neil says, “no, no,” but it’s too late, Adam’s already launched into the story of Neil’s childhood toy, how he carried it everywhere, demanded it be allowed to eat at the table with them, and how Leila had to agree to marry them so that they would be together forever and ever and ever when Mr. Humphries’ stitches started to fray.
Tommy stays in Neil’s lap the entire time, only interrupting once to say, “Pretty sure it’s a sign,” with his leg draped across Neil’s, warm heavy pressure sitting right on top of Neil’s dick.
When Adam’s done being an obnoxious older brother, Neil hopes he’s going to come collect his barnacle for a midnight romp upstairs. But no, of course not. Instead Terrence trots out the pot and Tommy stays in Neil’s lap sharing a spliff and growing steadily more mellow, so loose and pliant that when Neil shifts his bony ass Neil almost expects him to go up in a puff of smoke.
“You guys do that,” Tommy says lazily, licking smoke off his lips.
“What,” Neil grunts, more interested in reclaiming the joint than in whatever random weed-induced tangent Tommy’s headed down this time.
“Push me around,” Tommy says, grinning up at Neil, pupils blown wide open and eyes glassy. “Like fuckin’ manhandling me, dude. Both of you.”
Neil doesn’t need to ask who. He’s seen it. “I do not.”
“Y’do,” Tommy sighs, settling back like he’s ready for a nap. “And that ain’t no pot-chub pokin’ me in the ass, you know it.”
Neil almost drops the spliff. Adam’s on the other side of the bus, sitting on the countertop above Isaac and Terrence, sunk deep in a conversation that involves Terrence laughing his ass off and Isaac attempting to drum out a beat on three empty bottles rolling across the floor, while he watches Neil and Tommy. Mostly Tommy, Neil hopes. Adam’s got that look in his eyes again.
Neil jostles Tommy’s arm. “I think you should, you know.”
Sluggishly, Tommy drags his gaze up. His smile goes soft and lopsided. “Y’think?”
“Most definitely,” Neil says, giving him another hopeful shove. “Off you go, have fun, play safe.”
Out of the blue, Tommy says, “Y’know he told me.”
If it weren’t for the pot, Neil’s blood would freeze. “Tommy, seriously-”
“No, no, c’mon,” Tommy says, struggling up. “You think I like, care? Shit happens. Sometimes it’s good shit, right?”
“What you’re smoking is good shit,” Neil says, tempted to stuff the roach into Tommy’s mouth to shut him up. It ends up in one of the empties jammed between his thigh and the seat cushion instead. “Shut up and go fuck my brother.”
“I did sisters once,” Tommy says, his gaze on Adam’s, smiling wider as Adam tilts his head in a question. “Had the best fucking time.”
“I’m going to pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about, and tomorrow, we’re both going to pretend none of this never happened.”
A shiver shoots up Neil’s spine as Tommy’s fingertips lazily stroke the side of his neck. “What you need,” Tommy says slowly, “is an excuse. A buffer zone. Like, y’know, me.” Neil clamps his hands to Tommy’s hips, ready to shove him off onto the floor, but Tommy makes a quiet sound, anticipatory, like he expects to be put down on something else entirely. Head lolling back on Neil’s shoulder, breath warm, Tommy murmurs, “Offer’s open if you want it,” and leans in the short distance to touch lips to skin briefly, there and gone again. He slides off Neil’s lap and onto his feet like a puppet with its strings tugged, weaving past the couch, around Isaac, to slip between Adam’s spread knees, claim a lazy kiss.
Neil swallows hard. Both Adam and Tommy have got to be baked if they’re doing that out here. It isn’t that they don’t sometimes, not in hiding and not advertising, either, but never with so much naked want plastered all over both their faces. Even if Neil wanted to, no way is he getting tangled up in it. That’s his story, and he’s sticking the fuck to it.
Until Adam, with a lingering caress to Tommy’s cheek, slides down from the counter, heads up the short twist of stairs to the only bedroom on the bus, and Tommy turns around, eyebrow cocked, invitation blatant in the slant of his body as leans he back against the counter’s edge. Nobody else is paying any attention to them at all.
Grabbing two more beers and an unlit joint, Neil makes for the stairs.
Adam’s already on the bed, shirtless, by the time he gets there. Both of Adam’s eyebrows fly up, expecting Tommy, but before Neil can beat a hasty retreat, arms slip around his waist from behind, Tommy up on his toes to rest his chin on Neil’s shoulder.
“Oh my god,” Neil says, shrugging Tommy off. Unfazed, Tommy snatches up one of the beers, cracks it open. “Tell me you at least talked about this.”
“Sure we did,” Tommy says, and Adam barks a short laugh. “Okay, I talked about it. He was too busy blowing his load in me to talk.”
Neil’s insides give a swift, hot lurch. “So this is all your idea.” He gestures with the bottle he’s left holding, taking in Adam on the bed, Tommy undoing his jeans one handed as he tips his beer up, takes a long pull. “All of this.”
Tommy says, “Yeah, why not, whatever makes it easier for you.” Hauling off his shirt, he shakes it off his arm over his beer so he doesn’t have to put the bottle down, then kneels on the bed, weirdly compelling with his pretty face and stark horror tattoos. “You wanna make out some first, or just stick it in me?”
“This is really fucked up,” Neil says, his feet carrying him to the foot of the bed without anything even remotely resembling his permission. “I hope you both realise that.”
Shoving his beer into Neil’s free hand, Tommy grabs onto Neil’s jeans, wrenches open his fly. “So you want me to suck you first. Cool. I can work with that.”
Bizarrely, the strangest part of Neil’s entire night isn’t Adam flaked out on the bed watching as Tommy reaches into his shorts, wraps a strong hand rough with calluses around his cock. It isn’t glancing down to see Tommy haul it out, lick his lips like he’s really looking forward to getting all over it. It’s not even when Tommy says, “He kinda looks like you,” to them, or, “fuckin’ hot when it’s cut,” with his thumb rubbing the ridge, turning Neil’s knees to jelly.
It might be when Tommy goes down on him with a shallow moan and Adam says, “Fuck, baby,” and Neil honestly doesn’t know which one of them he’s talking to, Tommy for taking it or Neil for grabbing desperately at Tommy’s head, beer bottle in the way of him getting a good grip on Tommy’s hair.
Rolling up onto his knees, Adam reaches out and plucks the joint from between Neil’s fingers. When Neil spits a curse at him, he simply grins and lights up, gives the Zippo a careless toss to brush Neil’s arm aside, push his fingers into Tommy’s hair and push Tommy down a little more, then a little more, until the soft flutter of his throat closes around the head of Neil’s dick. It’s so amazingly good Neil thinks he might die, thinks maybe he probably should be shot for letting it happen in the first place. It’s even good when Tommy starts fighting the urge to choke, back heaving, breaths hot and fast on Neil’s belly, long, long seconds ticking by before Adam pulls him off, lets him gulp air.
Tommy swipes at his mouth with the back of one wrist. “This is gonna be fucking awesome,” he rasps, and coughs, shakes back his hair. “Been fucking dyin’ to get double-teamed ever since you started talking shit about it.”
“I know,” Adam says, pulling him back by the hair so he’s resting against Adam’s chest. Eyes on Neil, he puts the spliff to Tommy’s lips, hums low in his throat as Tommy takes a huge hit, holds it and holds it before opening his mouth to let smoke curl lazily free.
Neil snaps, “Give me that,” and snatches the joint, takes a hit of his own. He loses it too fast, startled by somebody’s hand on his wet cock, and quickly takes another, afraid to look down to see who owns those fingers rubbing precome from his slit. They don’t feel anything like Tommy’s, but he’s hoping.
When Tommy drapes both arms around his neck, leans up to nuzzle at his mouth, Neil says, “You’re touching my dick.”
“Not the first time,” Adam says.
“Not gonna be the last, either,” Tommy says, and looks down. “You gonna haul mine out or what?”
“Would somebody take these fucking beers,” Neil says, and Adam says, “Shut up, I got this,” obviously meaning Tommy’s dick, because yes, he’s most certainly got it, one hand for each of them as Tommy makes a quietly appreciative noise, spreads his fingers out on the back of Neil’s head searching for a handhold.
“You gotta grow your fucking hair out,” Tommy says, and hauls him in for a kiss as Adam’s hands circle around their cocks, stroke them together. Neil burbles something into Tommy’s mouth that makes Tommy huff a laugh, get the other hand on his face. For the guy that’s managed to stay hooked up with Adam for so long, Tommy’s pretty fucking pushy.
Adam says, “Not with me, he isn’t,” and as if he can’t go a minute longer without demonstrating, yanks Tommy back again, hand skidding up over his belly to take hold of his throat, kiss him until Tommy’s hand slips from Neil’s face, slides down to find Neil’s dick. Fingers wrapping tight, Tommy jacks it along to the rhythm of Adam tonguefucking his mouth. Somewhere in the middle of Tommy groaning about how it feels almost exactly like jerking Adam off, Neil remembers that yes, of course, he can hold both bottles in one hand if he grips them by the neck. Now he has one hand free, though, he can’t even begin to think about what to do with it.
“S’enough foreplay, right?” Tommy asks, messing up Adam’s kisses. “We can fuck now?”
“Don’t think I’m the one you’re supposed to ask,” Adam says.
Thumb pressed hard to Neil’s slit, Tommy’s smile takes on a cheeky slant. “Didn’t think I was.” He gives Adam a nudge back, rolling his eyes when Adam comes in for another kiss first but letting him take it. Neil snorts a laugh. Less than minutes in Adam’s orbit, Tommy probably figured out the easiest way to get what he wanted was to wait until Adam thought he was getting what he wanted first.
As Tommy slings Neil another different sort of smile, he knows he’s got it right.
“Hey,” Adam says, reluctantly scooting back up towards the head of the bed, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Don’t think he’s gonna help you handle me. He’s not.”
“‘Course not,” Tommy says, finally taking the fucking beers off Neil’s hands to finish one and pass the other off to Adam, who sets it in one of the cup holders beside the bed. “Wouldn’t fucking dream of it.”
“You would so,” Adam accuses, looking like he’s gearing up for a lecture about how he does what he wants, won’t let anybody tell him who he’s supposed to be ever again, which is noble and respectable and inspiring, and something Neil’s heard one too many times already. Apparently in full agreement with him, Tommy shimmies out of his jeans, his underwear too, and gives the whole tangled works a toss into Adam’s face. By the time Adam gets free, Tommy’s clothes thumping to the floor, Tommy’s straddling his hips, naked. Whatever else Adam had meant to say dies on a groan.
“Works every time,” Tommy says happily, and settles down on Adam’s thighs, twisting around to look at Neil. “Plannin’ on getting naked any time soon?”
“I’m savouring the moment,” Neil says. Since his dick’s already hanging out of his pants, shrugging off his shirt shouldn’t take as much effort as it seems to. “Something that shuts him up that fast is worthy of appreciating.”
“Awesome,” Tommy says, a slight hitch to his voice, his hips, that says Adam’s got a hand back on him. “Get up here and appreciate it some more.”
Once Neil’s had a chance to sober up, he’s going to regret this. The door’s right there behind him. He could tuck himself away, bow out gracefully, and in a couple of months have a good laugh over a beer about that time they almost did that thing, you know, that time on the bus in Europe. But Adam’s watching him as he shucks his jeans, muscles in Adam’s arm flexing gently as he plays with Tommy’s dick. When Neil sets a knee to the bed, he catches Adam’s fingers shiny-wet curving in to the crack of Tommy’s ass, pressing against him hard enough to get him rocking up, but not pushing in.
Tommy’s hand slaps to Adam’s chest. “No teasing just ’cause he’s watching.”
“I’m waiting for him to bolt,” Adam says, slinging his arm around Tommy’s back to pull him down closer, Tommy’s knees skidding wider. To Neil he says, “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
“Fuck you,” Neil says, shoving Adam’s leg aside so he can kneel between them, settle a hand on Tommy’s back. It’s not like Neil hasn’t experimented. Anything he’s done with guys aside from Adam has been incidental, barely a blip on his sexual radar. The guys he’s been with weren’t bad exactly, but they weren’t all that good, either. One thing he’s never going to admit to anyone, least of all Adam, is that Neil’s been comparing them to his brother. Adam’s ego doesn’t need any stroking from him.
Neither does Adam’s dick, and yet, here he is.
Getting a hand around Tommy to fist his cock, surprised to find it thicker than he’d imagined given how slight Tommy is everywhere else, Neil says to Adam, “I’m not touching yours,” just to make sure they’re all on the same page here. He’ll jerk Tommy off with Adam’s hand right there, but he’s not giving Adam the satisfaction.
“Kinda gonna have to,” Tommy says, rolling his hips back, shifting forward again, and Neil has to glance down, see if he’s riding Adam’s fingers yet or if Adam’s still teasing him like a complete jackass. In his head, the idea of Adam fingering Tommy had been nicely detached, clinical. The sight of two thick fingers pushed up inside Tommy, skin flushed pink and stretched tight, wet-looking, isn’t. The first time Neil slept with a guy, the entire time he’d been telling himself a hole is a hole is a hole, there’s not much difference between giving anal to a guy or a girl.
Apparently, Neil’s been sleeping with all the wrong people. Tommy sounds like a porno, all breathy moans and quiets grunts as Adam pushes in harder, faster, but they’re all pure honesty. He’s really, really into getting done by Adam. Shivers race up and down his back, and Neil chases after them not even thinking, fascinated by how alive Tommy feels, thrumming beneath their hands.
“Get him a fucking rubber,” Tommy says, dropping down onto one elbow to stretch out so his back is a long, smooth arch. Neil tries to tell himself he’s still not thinking when he leans down to bite at pale skin, but he’s thinking about a lot of things. Or one thing over and over, like leaving a mark on Tommy’s body for Adam to later touch.
Adam flicks a condom at Neil’s head. “Suit up,” he says. “You’re going first.”
“You’re both insane,” Neil says, tearing into the packet. Breath hisses between his teeth as he rolls it on, catching the bottle of lube Adam lobs at his chest one-handed. He slicks up carefully, trying not to focus too much on how good his own hand feels, how much better the tight clutch of Tommy’s body will. He’s thought in a casual, abstract way, about how they fuck, the same way you sometimes stumble across wondering what a friend’s girlfriend is like in the sack, or some random person on the street who catches your eye. Never in the kind of detail he’s getting right now with Tommy’s ass high in front of him and Adam’s fingers buried all the way to the knuckle.
The head of Neil’s cock is nestled snug against Tommy’s hole, Adam’s fingers spread wide around it holding him open for Neil to push in, and that’s right when what he’s about to do hits him. He’s going to fuck Tommy Joe, and Adam’s helping. Adam wants him to do it. They both do. “Fuck,” Neil says, swaying forward with a hand braced high on Tommy’s back. “Fuck, what’re we-”
“Push,” Adam hisses, groping for Neil’s cock, getting a grip on it like he’s going to put it in himself if Neil doesn’t.
Batting Adam’s hand away, Neil takes hold of his own dick, cocky, “Back off,” tumbling out of him on a groan as he wedges the head in, rocks his hips to get past muscle trying to clench tight. As a soft, hurt noise spills out of Tommy, he stops short, afraid he’s gone too far, but Adam says, “No, don’t, keep going, you should see his face, he loves it, give him more.”
“Fuck, shut up and do it,” Tommy says, curled down low over Adam, one of his arms wrapped behind Adam’s head, Adam’s grip on his hips firm, holding him still against the trembling that’s taken over his legs. “Give it to me,” is a breathless rasp, “bitch, show me what you got, c’mon, he fucks me so good, you gonna let him think he’s got it all, come on, come on-” and then nothing but a choked gasp as Neil fucks in hard, heartbeat pounding through his skull, his hands flying to Tommy’s hips to hold on, finding Adam’s fingers tangling with his instead of the sharp wing of bone digging into his palms.
“Go,” Adam says, and Neil listens, can’t believe it when he looks down at the brush of a hand to find Tommy rubbing around his own hole, pressing a finger in close to Neil’s dick on a long thrust in so his body opens up to take it. He leaves it there while Neil fucks, strange, thrilling pressure of bent knuckles on Neil’s dick along with the soft heat of his insides, the shiver of pleasure when Neil hits him just right.
And when Adam says, “More, you can do it, baby, take more,” Tommy does, shuddering as he tries to wedge in a second finger.
Grabbing his wrist, Neil pulls his hand away, curls their fingers together to ease the miserable noise he makes. “You do it,” Neil says. “You want it, you open him up.”
“Jesus,” Tommy says, “yeah, c’mon, do me like that.”
“Baby, you can’t,” Adam tries, and Tommy cuts him off by stuffing his mouth full of tongue, fumbling across the bedspread to find the lube and shove it haphazardly in Neil’s direction. Caught up in the tight clench of Tommy’s body, Neil doesn’t even think before he grabs it up, smears Adam’s fingers glistening wet. He’s not expecting Adam to feel along his shaft first, shocking a gasp out of him as Adam strokes all the way down to Tommy’s hole, frames Neil’s cock buried inside him between two fingers before curving them slightly, pressing in slowly, Tommy already so full Neil has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from thrusting.
“Wanted your fucking dick,” Tommy protests, trembling again, endlessly, but not fighting. Neil’s never seen him fight with Adam about anything, not even the things he maybe should.
All the way in, Adam promises, “You’ll get it, baby,” and meets Neil’s gaze over Tommy’s shoulder, one look all it takes for Neil to know exactly what he wants. For once, Neil gives it to him, holding on tight to Tommy as he fucks in harder, harder, dizzied by Adam’s fingers moving inside Tommy with him. As a third nudges in close, Neil shudders, almost stopping, and Adam says, “Don’t you fucking dare, not yet. Not yet.”
Neil gasps, “Fuck you,” and goes for another condom, nearly losing it again when Tommy’s the one who smacks it away from his hand, says, strained and shivering, “No, don’t need it.”
Adam’s eyes flash wide, fix on Neil’s. Neil waits for him to override Tommy’s lapse, because Neil’s seen Adam out with other guys, seen Tommy take more than one kiss from a fan, but Adam doesn’t say anything, just stares up at him naked and raw, and Neil says, “Fuck, Adam.” As moronic as Adam can sometimes be, he’s not actually stupid. Regardless of what he and Tommy have done before, if he’s going without a condom this time, it’s not casual. None of this is.
“Put him in me,” Tommy says, muffled against Adam’s chest. “Fucking put him in me, I want,” and this time it’s Adam shutting him up, kissing him mute as Neil drags in a deep breath reeking of sex and sweat, finds Adam’s cock thick in the open fly of his jeans and slicks it wet.
A shiver goes through Adam, jumps from him to Tommy as Neil closes his eyes again, pushes Adam’s cock beside his still buried deep. He waits for the hiss of Tommy’s breath as Adam’s fingers slide free, pulling out along with them only halfway before pushing in again. Adam’s hips rock up at the same time, both of them fucking Tommy impossibly wider, so tight and open all at once, clutching at them. He grudgingly takes it all, everything they have to give slow inch by inch, trembling and moaning so loudly Neil’s sure everyone downstairs knows exactly what they’re doing to him.
And then Tommy goes still, his breaths harsh and fast, shallow, so full. A sound like a sob jostles free when Adam twitches. He pushes Tommy’s hair back, kisses him, and Neil’s stomach clenches, burns cold.
The last thing he’s expecting to hear is Tommy saying, “Kiss him.”
Neil chokes on nothing. “I-”
“Fucking kiss him,” Tommy rasps, “kiss him and make him fuck me, son of a bitch, fuck me.”
Dropping down as Adam shoves up, Neil kisses him. Actually kisses him this time instead of not fighting hard enough to stop him, or letting him get away with it; Neil is fully committed to getting his tongue in Adam’s mouth. Tommy rocks fitfully between them, his small, hurt noises filling the air, burning through Neil’s blood, driving him insane. Adam’s pulse is in his dick, Neil can feel it throbbing in counter-time to his own, the clench of Tommy’s body forcing them so tightly together it’s almost painful.
Pain isn’t what razes Neil’s nerves when Adam gives an experimental thrust. Tommy clutches mindlessly at Adam, moans for Neil at a soft kiss sucked to the slant of his shoulder. Concentrating on not crushing Tommy between them, Neil waits for Adam to go again, slick-rough drag against his dick as Adam starts to fuck. One minute Neil’s thankful for the latex separating them, and the next he hates it, the need to yank the condom off, shove roughly into Tommy’s heat and feel Adam fuck him nearly blinding.
“God,” Adam breathes, head fallen back, neck stretched long. Sweat darkens his hairline, shines in the hollow of his throat. He pushes harder, one hand stretched out to skim Neil’s thigh, nails digging in urging Neil to thrust with him, help him drive more of those helpless noises out of Tommy. It doesn’t take much for Neil to give in. Later, he’s going to claim he trusted in Adam to know how much Tommy could take, but the truth of it is, he wants. He wants to be the one Adam fucks Tommy senseless with, wants to be the one to feel Adam shake apart at the seams. He wants the fucking condom gone so that Tommy’s wet with more than Adam’s come when this is over, marked the same way they’ve both managed to mark him.
But he isn’t stupid, or reckless, and it’s almost easy to channel that vicious need into the harder snap of his hips, overriding Adam’s slow rhythm, not fucking Tommy with Adam so much any more as he’s taking Adam along for the ride. Trapped beneath Tommy’s weight, as slight as it is, and Neil braced against him, adding more to it, Adam doesn’t have a choice but to take it. Adam’s eyes are wide, wide open, staring at the ceiling not seeing a thing, his mouth pleasure-shock slack. Tommy’s gone from wordless moans to gasping pleas, pushing clumsily at Adam’s arm trying to get a fist to fuck. When Adam can’t manage it, and Tommy groans a miserable curse, body going loose as he gives up, becomes a weak, boneless sprawl between them, pure satisfaction heats Neil’s belly. A hand between Tommy’s shoulder blades pushes him even harder against Adam and he takes it, makes so much noise Neil almost can’t hear the sounds that are pouring out of Adam now, broken and desperate and breathless.
Neil doesn’t recognise his own voice telling Adam to do it, come already, slick Tommy up more so Neil can really give it to him, so Adam can feel it. Fingers dig into Neil’s forearm, perfect shiny black nails cutting pale crescent moons into skin, as Adam tries to fuck, instinct and need overriding everything. But weighted down, pinned, all he can do is writhe, claw marks red and wild into Neil’s arm, Tommy’s back, and come so hard Neil can feel it in the pulse of his dick.
“No,” Tommy says as Adam drops slack to the sheets, dick slipping free, “no, no, c’mon,” over and over again as Neil worms a hand between his and Adam’s bellies to jerk him off, and he doesn’t stop until Adam gives him the rough shove of fingers alongside Neil’s dick. He shies away on a sharp grunt, pushes back on a sharper one, fucks Neil’s hand and rides cock and fingers so good Neil doesn’t have to do a damn thing, Tommy could get him off just like this. But he wants too much to be the one who finishes this for all of them, and he grabs onto Tommy’s hips again, hauls him back harder, faster, Tommy’s voice rising until it shatters like glass and orgasm punches through Neil like a bullet, swift and shocking and so good it hurts.
Neil manages to catch himself on the palm of one hand before he goes down. Head hanging, he struggles to draw air into his lungs, easy enough in theory but impossible with Tommy twisting sluggishly beneath him. When Neil looks up, his gaze crashes into Adam’s, Adam staring at him still wild-eyed, bright hectic craving.
“Wait,” Neil croaks, palm pressed to Tommy’s back to try to calm him. It doesn’t work, makes Tommy’s squirming worse, like Tommy’s feeding off every touch, can’t help himself even though it’s almost too much. Neil sucks in a deep breath and pulls out, squeezing his eyes shut at the drag of his dick against Adam’s knuckles, Adam’s fingers still buried Tommy’s body as deep as they’ll go. There’s no resistance in Tommy as Neil gets both arms around him to haul him up on his knees. His head drops back on Neil’s shoulder, lashes fluttering as he tries to open his eyes, mouth bitten red, swollen from the scrape of his own teeth. He groans raggedly when Neil wraps a hand firmly around his dick and jacks it slowly.
“Oh fuck,” Tommy says, rough and rasping, nothing like Neil’s ever heard from him before, “fuck, please, yeah, so fucking good, knew it would be,” his hips rocking, dick pushed into Neil’s fist, ass back onto Adam’s fingers, fucking himself and being fucked. He clutches weakly at Neil’s arm and Adam’s other hand resting on his thigh, shaking like he’s falling apart when he comes. His eyes flash wide when Adam moans his name, drift lazily almost shut again to watch as Neil jerks him off onto Adam’s stomach, Neil the only thing holding him up, every bone in his body gone liquid.
When Tommy’s mouth tilts up, Neil has to kiss him. The most fucked up thing about it is this is the first time Neil’s kissed him. He’s fucked the guy, really very seriously fucked him, and this is the first time he’s tasted the inside of Tommy’s mouth. There have been a couple of pecks before, and that thing Tommy did once to distract him and make off with his beer. But this is real, so startlingly real, that Neil falls out of the kiss long before Tommy’s ready to let it end.
Scooting up, their legs an awkward tangle, Adam leans in to take over kissing Tommy back to earth as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. From there, it’s worryingly easy when Adam glances at him to lean down, both of them holding Tommy steady, and lick the taste of Tommy out of Adam’s mouth. Somewhere in the back of Neil’s head a tiny, crazed voice is screaming wordlessly at him, shock and horror and disbelief, but there’s no room for it with all booze and the drugs and the sex, Adam’s amazing mouth and Tommy’s quiet, sated kisses nuzzled to the side of Neil’s neck.
Until Neil opens his eyes, takes in the spilt beer and pot ashes, the spunk on Adam’s skin, the marks brutally clear on Tommy’s, and his stomach hits the floor, keeps on going.
“Don’t freak out,” Adam says, quickly steadying Tommy as Neil’s grip slips. “It’s too late to freak out now.”
Eyes glittering beneath a dark smear of makeup, mouth slanted, Tommy says, “Way too fuckin’ late.”
“We can’t,” Neil says, “we- fuck,” shying away as Adam calmly reaches around Tommy to tug the rubber off Neil’s dick, tie it off and dump it into an empty Starbucks takeout cup on the floor.
Tommy lifts one arm, elbow bent, to grab onto the back of Neil’s head. “You dick me, you stick around to cuddle me. S’how this works.”
“He’s pretty adamant about that part,” Adam says, a wry twist to his smile. “How about you save the freak out, if you’re gonna have one, for later?”
Of course that’s Adam’s solution. Deal with it later. “Just put it on hold,” Neil says. “Like that’s something you can actually do.”
“Or don’t bother at all,” Tommy says. “And bitch, I am fucking serious about this cuddling shit.”
An x-rated dogpile is the last thing they need. Therapy is at the top of the list, followed closely by some very specific pharmaceuticals, and at the very least and as soon as possible, a serious discussion about all the things Neil very desperately wishes weren’t rattling through his head like a semi with a blown tire.
“Stop it,” Adam says to the look on Neil’s face, grabbing up Tommy’s tee shirt from somewhere and giving his stomach a cursory wipe. He takes Tommy out of Neil’s arms, Neil’s grip tightening reflexively for a moment to hold on, and helps him settle down. The dirty shirt gets shoved into Neil’s hand. “Do this for him, and for fuck’s sake hug him, and just shut up for once in your life.”
“Fuck you,” Neil snaps automatically, stomach clenching as Tommy huffs a laugh into Adam’s chest, Tommy’s legs slightly spread by Adam’s hand cupping the back of his thigh. Feeling like a complete asshole, and a sick, perverted freak, Neil stares at the lube glistening wetly on the insides of Tommy’s thighs.
Tommy shifts his knee up a bit higher, eyebrow lifting as he glances back over his shoulder.
“Heard you the first time,” Neil grumbles, fighting to keep his hands steady as he settles down behind Tommy, gently wipes away the mess he helped make. He knows Tommy must be aching, body used and abused and pushed too far to take so much, and Neil’s floundering. Tommy isn’t a random kinky hookup, or a girlfriend, or anything that Neil’s ever had before. And Adam’s right there, hand stroking Tommy’s hip, soothing and possessive and expectant.
Like it’s somehow worse than everything that’s already happened, it takes everything Neil’s got to settle his hand over Adam’s, stilling it. “You’re both fucked in the head,” he says, in case there are any doubts on where he stands in this.
Tommy bumps Neil’s calf with one foot. “Dude, I’m getting a draft.”
“Maybe if someone got a blanket,” Neil says, but he scoots closer, not too sure that all this continued nudity is a good idea. Once he’s pressed against Tommy’s back, though, he realises the little guy is a chunk of ice, and it’s slightly easier to use that as a reason to tuck an arm around him, share body heat. Tommy’s a weird mix of bony angles and soft, soft skin, and already dropping off when Adam pushes hair off his face, says quietly, “Go on, baby. Sleep.”
Even with Tommy’s hand loosely grasping Neil’s, Neil feels like an intruder.
Flicking Neil’s elbow, Adam says, “Only you would could get pissed over having an orgasm.”
“I’m not pissed,” Neil whisper-hisses. “I am very legitimately disturbed.”
“You liked it,” Adam says, cheek propped up in one hand. “You always like it.”
“We are not talking about this. Also, shut up, he’s sleeping.”
Adam’s gaze flickers down. “An earthquake wouldn’t wake him now.”
“I don’t need to know,” Neil resolutely states. He wants to know if they’ve done this before, but he doesn’t need to know. He very much doesn’t need to know that he’s the only one Adam would share this with, because your semi-boyfriend or committed partner or whatever the fuck Tommy is, isn’t something you should share with your fucking brother.
“You know he likes you,” Adam says.
Neil squeezes his eyes shut. He would fucking hope Tommy at least likes him to take what Tommy just took, and he’d hope Tommy is in stupid love with Adam and Adam with Tommy, except that makes Neil’s insides squirm like a nest of snakes. “I’m not talking about this.”
“Fine,” Adam says pissily, dropping down and scooting around to tuck himself into the curve of Tommy’s smaller body. “We’ll talk about it when he wakes up.”
Tommy’s not going to want to talk. Tommy never wants to talk about things that might lead to even a vague suggestion of confrontation. Adam’s the talker, and they’ve got him outnumbered. Tommy will absolutely be on Neil’s side with this. It happened, they won’t talk about it, they’ll all get over it and move on, and the next time Tommy ends up drunk and high in Neil’s lap, Neil will dump him on his flat ass without a single thought to anything they just did.
Waiting for Adam to go lax, almost asleep, Neil kicks him in the shins. “Go get a fucking blanket.”