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Somewhere Else To Be

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Somewhere Else To Be

Prologue


Tommy was pissed off. Okay, well ‘pissed off’ was maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but he was feeling a strong defiant need to assert his authority. To be his own person. To not just be ‘Part of the band’, ‘Adam Lambert’s bassist’, ‘The guy Adam likes kissing on stage’. Sometimes Glamily 24/7 wore you down. Especially for a continuous 30 whole weeks.


Standing at the bar with a tall drink in his hand, chatting to (up) a couple of very fine blondes, he felt oddly... unaccomplished in his attempt. The girls were hot, practically throwing themselves at him as they tried to convince him onto the dance floor, but for some reason he shrugged them off.

The taller of the girls, the one with smoky dark eyes smiled spitefully and leaned over, talking directly into the other’s ear over the din of the night club. The other, younger one’s eyebrows rose, but she seemed unbelieving of her partner. She seemed to tell her as much. Sisters, perhaps? (That’d be cool.)

The younger, fairer of the two placed her delicately manicured hands on her hips, demanding something to Tommy. He shook his head, taking another sip of his drink. She repeated.

“... You are interested ... us, right?”

Tommy would have ordinarily put on his glowing pulling smile and lowered his voice with a sultry (yes, he could do ‘sultry’, thank you very much Terrance) “of course”, probably running a ghosting hand down a waist for additional emphasis.

He grimaced. “Yes.” he replied, his voice a little harsher then he would have liked.

The younger girl just laughed. She turned to her partner’s ear before enveloping her in a full, open mouthed kiss.

Sisters? Hmmm.

With one swift motion, Tommy drained the rest of his drink, took the girls offered hands and followed them to the dance floor.

*~*~*

Chapter Text

Somewhere Else to Be (followed by Untitled)

By VAST

 

*~*~*


Somewhere Else To Be



Chapter One

 

It was 1 ½ pints and 7 shots later when Tommy stumbled against the back door of the club. Behind him, the crowd pounded relentlessly on, an endless surge of sweat, gyrating and want. Tommy chuckled sarcastically, his arm braced up against the door, head leaning heavily against his arm.

This was ‘a good time’, and as his world began to tip again, he gave another gasping laugh at the ‘successes’ of the night.

The blondes had moved away about quarter of an hour later. He had found another, platinum white this time, and she had seemed interested in his face. Then, her hands had moved over his own and she had pulled back to look at his callused fingers with disgust.

“I’m a bass player. And guitarist.” He informed her.

She said, “You and everyone else in this fucking City. I suppose you sing as well, too?”

She turned her back and fucking strutted over to the bar. Ten minutes later, Tommy joined her, by which time she was laughing and touching up with what looked like a very serious weight-lifter; a good foot and a half taller and twice Tommy’s weight. She refused to look at him.

Tommy had drowned more drinks afterwards, and his memory had become progressively vaguer. He recalled a luscious brunette with an amazing rack; a darker, probably Eastern European woman with the longest god damn spider-like fingers he had ever seen (just thinking about how those fingers had danced and travelled- and what they could also possibly do- had sent heat travelling down south).

She had moved away, of course, though. Tommy couldn’t remember why.

Then, there was that other—Timothy, he had said his name was. Timothy, which had sent Tommy into a fit of hysterics he would refute in any sober state. ‘Tommy and Timothy, sitting in a tree, D-A-N-C-E-I-N-G’. Timothy had giggled delightedly, his hand on the side of Tommy’s face. His hands had also liked moving, but by now Tommy couldn’t care less. He did tell him, though, after a few more minutes that he wasn’t gay. Timothy had complained, argued, and tried to warm Tommy up to the thought of staying with him. Tommy held his hand in place and with an abruptly cold, hard look and reiterated ‘not interested’ before moving off.

He had found himself at the bar again, a drink this time freshly passed to him by a neighbouring lonely hearter. “She wandered off,” he’d announced. Tommy drained the spare half-pint (no wonder the smooth talker was now drinking alone), thumped him one on the shoulder a little heavier than he had intended and plunged back into the mass of writhing bodies.

Another blonde, wanting makeup tips, saying she liked him because he was ‘safe’. A lighter brunette, who didn’t seem interested in kissing. A raven haired women who did like kissing- but the hand on her waist felt a little too much like Raja’s to make him certain whether or not she was actually completely female at all.

Lastly (he thought- though he wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d missed one or two), another petite brunette. This one had stood out in his memory- fuck knows how he could remember bugger all about anyone else. Her black top had been born in an explosion of a glitter factory and had seen its primary party days welcoming in the new millennium. Tommy should have taken the hint when she had called him by name before he had ever mentioned it. He should have realised by the way she had sought him out from the other end of the club, making a bee-line to him from wherever the fuck she had been.

He really should have known by the way she called him ‘Tommy Joe’ rather than ‘Tommy’; her eyes wild and bright with that familiar fan fever.

And yet his own eyes had grown wide when she had brought her mouth up to his ear and asked,

“So tell me how well Adam kisses.”

He had remained immobile when she then asked where he was; her eyes eagerly roving around the club as if she had managed to miss him. When she slid her hand round the back of his trousers (Tommy’s mind temporarily going blank against the onslaught of alarm her words arose) to retrieve his cell phone and eagerly enquire as to whether Adam’s number would be on there.

She held the fucking thing up at his face and asked whether Tommy could phone him up right now.

Tommy had stared at her completely frozen, the blood draining from his face (and any other organ) as the full reality suddenly hit him. He knew it could happen; it had happened before- hell, he was only well known now because of Adam, and yet... He wasn’t Adam’s. He wasn’t Adam’s anything other than his bassist. And his friend; and yet that friendship (at this very moment) was wearing thin. He snatched the phone back off her.

It was at that very moment when the world began to tip dramatically. The ground suddenly sought Tommy from new, undiscovered angles, his focus swiftly changing from the quietly brewing rage to the heat and overwhelming wrongness of his stomach twisting within his body. The nausea didn’t normally start this early... Yet he realised he had felt it seeping in throughout his short time with the fan. The world had still been spinning when she had first drawn up to him, but he hadn’t thought it as anything out of the ordinary. He hadn’t thought of anything as out of the ordinary.

The earth took another pitch towards the floor, and the shoved the girl away from him, stumbling his way to the very back of the club where he knew the backdoor opened up into a deserted alleyway. He dropped the phone; stumbled to pick it up again and found himself under the feet of a dozen other people. He pushed himself up, scraping the edge of his cell against the tacky floor and forced his way through to the far end of the club.

What the fuck had happened? Where was his ‘good time’?

Bracing himself beside the door, he took a moment to catch his breath (and calm his stomach) as he tried to get his mind to cooperate with him. He felt the distinctive need to get back to his room, to get out of here. Couldn’t even get wasted properly without wanting to crawl back to the hotel shared with the Glamily; how freaking pathetic.

Go left out the alley down the main road, keep going for- for- how long? He was close to the hotel, he’d made sure of it; planned ahead- well, as much as you can when you’re sullen. He’d decided after half an hour of wondering around that for these heights of drunk he could really afford to be within stumbling distance of his room. He had seen the club from the bus when Lane had finally announced they’d arrived yesterday; why couldn’t he remember the way? Keep going for five minutes- okay, might be ten minutes drunk-walking time; and the hotel is directly after the- the-

Tommy gave another gasping laugh as the club continued to pound behind him, his mind belligerently flickering away from his plight to the other ‘successes’ of the night. Focus on the failures you can actually remember.

How fucking pathetic.

This was a ‘good time’, and he was fucked if he ever thought he’d come out of it alright. Though, as the world pitched hazily again, Tommy realised he was probably fucked anyway.

 

Is there somewhere else to be?

Is there somewhere else to be?

Take me in; I want out-

That’s all I need.

*~*~*

 

Chapter Text


Somewhere Else To Be

Killer 2


Chapter Two - Part One

 

Tommy slid out into the open alleyway, taking in deep breaths of fresh air. He leaned his head back against the club wall, hoping that the cool brick might straighten out his spinning head, but it all just kinda felt numb. His whole body was starting to feel out of it, as if he were no longer in control. He tried to move an arm; his cell phone still clamped in his hand, but it was like trying to lift dumbbells he couldn’t see. It took so much effort yet it was almost as if he were watching someone else’s arm beneath the tattoos.

He closed his eyes. He really needed to get back to the hotel.

A hand slid up his arm, leaving a tingling trail of pins and needles. It brushed against his chin before trailing over his scalp and tangling in the long strands of Tommy’s hair. It pulled; a savage motion so familiar from the stage yet alien, not quite right. Those weren’t Adam’s fingers. This wasn’t Tommy’s bedroom.

He sighed; chuckled once then tried to weakly force the man off, (for he was sure it was a man- girls didn’t tug like that; besides, the hand was too large to be feminine), trying to twist out of his grip.

There was a soft, foreign chuckle. Tommy felt a mouth descended upon his own, closed, rough and bruising. He brought an arm up but it was forced down easily, a second hand clamping around his wrist. His eyes opened. Hazel ones looked back.

Tommy’s head knocked against the brick and lolled, the fine filaments of his hair caught against the rough surface of the brick.

Somewhere in the back of Tommy’s mind a slow panic began to form. He knew this wasn’t right- wasn’t what he wanted, but it was like he couldn’t communicate that to the rest of his body. He watched, dimly aware as a leg moved in between his own, an obscene bulge pressing up against his hip.

No. This wasn’t right; couldn’t be right.

He struggled, thrashing, yet two more hands closed around his shoulders easily stilling his movements. Hazel eyes took hold of his hair once more, wrenching it back as he forced his way into his mouth, his other hand firmly gripping his jaw. Tommy’s eyes grew wide as his drowning mind shouted the math; there were too many hands.

Panic started to set in fully as the rest of his mind caught up to the situation. This wasn’t friendly fondling, passionate pashing he could control or stop at any moment.

Tommy took in deep shuddering breaths as his mouth was finally released, but it didn’t last. Hazel tugged his hair again; twisting his head sideways until he was looking over his right shoulder as another face closed in. A second mouth took domination; the grip on his right arm tightening as yet another hand was run over the center of his chest.

Tommy cried out into the second man’s mouth, shaking his head as much as he could against the painful grip on his hair. The mouth finally gave way before a resonating slap impacted the side of his cheek. Eyes flashing open, Tommy could feel his face glowing with a red, hand-shaped mark.

Before him, fresh dark eyes flashed in anger, the face weedy and angular but in an unattractive way; defined cheekbones which rendered him ill-proportioned. He surged forwards again, but before his bared teeth could reach Tommy’s mouth, Hazel stopped him.

“No. If the boy doesn’t want it, then he doesn’t want it. We can’t force him, now can we...” His voice was low, soothing almost. It made everything feel even more wrong, even more unsettled although Tommy couldn’t help that his mind still flashed with irritation at being called a boy. He knew his appearance was deceptive, but he was nearing his 29th birthday, for fuck-sakes.

Hazel eyes gave a chuckle. He was a good head taller than him and broader, and... vaguely familiar. Like he’d seen or met him in passing.

“Let him run if he wants to,” Hazel breathed.

He released the bassist’s hair. Tommy’s eyes grew wide as the man nodded at the others to do likewise. Cheekbones looked livid, but the third guy (who Tommy was only seeing now for the first time) had this cruel glint in his eye, still smiling. He couldn’t be more than a teenager.

As his shoulders were released, Tommy took a quick stumble forward, before bolting away from the men.

Deeper into the alley.

Panic engulfed him again as his mind screamed out in confusion. Why were they letting him go? He had been so sure of what they’d wanted... Adrenalin surged his system as he forced his way away from the men. They had fanned out across the mouth of the alley blocking off the exit, but Tommy didn’t care where he ran as long as it was away from them.

His legs felt like jello, incapable of holding his weight, but he forced himself forward, willing himself to go further. Twice he stumbled over his own feet; he could hear the three following behind at a pallbearer’s march. Hitting the ground hard, Tommy crawled determinedly on.

He knew the eyes of the predator; had seen them countless times in those horror films he loved so much. Had watched with glee as they hunted down the damsels with bloodthirsty hunger before claiming their prize. They always let the girls run before killing them...

 A foot to the small of his back stopped him in his tracks. Rough hands pulled him up until he was on his knees looking into rusty green eyes. Predator’s eyes.

“I guess he wasn’t so impatient to get away from us, after all,” the teen said.

 He thrust his mouth onto Tommy’s, fingers digging painfully into his collarbone as he kept the bassist in place. A savage tongue fought its way into Tommy’s mouth. He struggled again, jaw inadvertently clamping down but it was too late to catch the probing dagger.

Green eyes panted for a moment before drawing his arm back and hitting him with as much force as he could muster. The cell phone that had so miraculously made it this far flew out of Tommy’s hand.

Tommy lay on his side gasping, his mind empty but for the underlying throb of his cheek and the dim wash of terror that pressed through the hazy cold barriers.

Across his vertical tarmac horizon, he watched as downtrodden sneakers stepped up across his view, stopping directly ahead.

The teenager’s angry face appeared inches from his own, leaning in with fetid breath.

“You’re gonna fucking regret that.”

*~*~*

Killer1

 

 

Chapter Text

A sneaker struck his shoulder, forcing him over until his back hit the hard ground knocking the air from his lungs. Before Tommy could catch his breath, however, he felt fingers scrabbling over the button of his jeans.

Terror flooded Tommy’s system.

Two hands gripped his arms, pulling them above his head and pinning them in place. The button popped. Cheekbones stepped over his feebly thrashing legs and knelt across them, pinning them in place. He bent down, disdainfully frustrated expression painted over his face as he began unlacing Tommy’s boots. The first opened easily and was languidly slid from his foot before being discarded some way behind Cheekbone‘s left shoulder.

Kneeling at his waist, the teen emitted a throaty chuckle as his eyes darkened with hunger, their gaze scouring Tommy’s helpless form. Blunt fingers dug into the flesh of Tommy’s hips as his jeans and underpants were thrust down his thighs. The other boot finally relinquished its hold and the hands now progressed to pulling on the cuff of his jeans. There was another dark, hideous chuckle from behind as the material left Tommy’s body way too quickly.

Tommy was left exposed.

Green Eyes took in his full form hungrily, his eyes gleaming with wildfire as he ran his fingers delicately along the line of his groin and down over the soft flesh of his penis. Tommy tried to keep his face steadied but he couldn’t stop the quiet whimper that escaped his lips. The boy continued to toy with the intimate flesh, his eyes insatiable. Cheekbone’s features had darkened too, drinking in Tommy’s prone, weakly struggling form as he casually stepped over to the other side of Tommy’s legs, settling himself opposite the teen. He slowly reached a hand out, dragging Tommy’s right leg up. Breath hitching in his throat, Tommy wrenched his eyes away, but they only moved back to the Teen. His index and middle fingers were lost deep in the caverns of his mouth.

Tommy could feel himself lightly shaking, the hands manipulating and weighting the flesh that now felt completely out of his control.

Held above his head, Hazel’s grip on his wrists changed as the dark figure suddenly loomed over Tommy’s vision and reached over towards his exposed flesh. However the hand fell short, gripping the base of his t-shirt, the fleeting contact with Tommy’s belly causing him to jerk reflexively. Torturously slowly, Hazel pulled the t-shirt up and over his head, the reversed fabric covering and binding his arms, restraining him, leaving his chest open and exposed. The material stretched over his face as the neckline snagged under Tommy’s nose, covering his eyes. It blinded him.

A hand ran down the inside of his exposed thigh.

Fresh desperation washed over Tommy as the darkness encircled him, closing in and forcing Tommy’s other senses into hyperdrive. If Tommy thought he’d felt fear, had felt panic before, that was nothing compared to the terror which now engulfed him. Every nerve was screaming; every hair jolted at the slightest whisper of movement, every mark their fingers left as they travelled over his body now remained emblazoned on his brain. The lightest of touches imbedded in his mind as if they left smears of blood over his skin. Tommy had once laughed at the exaggerated breathing effects in horror films, yet every breath now echoed as if from the depths of hell itself.

The trailing fingers ran closer and closer to Tommy’s backside.

With a snap, Hazel pulled the t-shirt back from his head as a blunt, thick digit thrust itself through the confines of Tommy’s tight hole. He cried out gutturally as the finger continued to force its way in, its movement bringing shards of pain against the tightened muscle. The intrusion was so alien; the sensation so unusual, so wrong.

Tommy had always been the dominant party when it came down to sex. Man, with penis, puts it in girl’s hole and moves it around a bit. And maybe a bit more besides that, but that was how sex worked for Tommy. He did the penetrating. He did the driving. He had never had anything shoved up his back passage, thank you very much, and when any girl had suggested it in the past he shot them down. Fanservice, he’d said; he had no intention of trying it ‘the gay way’. He had tried once, on his own, and... it hadn’t gone well.

Now he had no choice.

The digit was thrust back and forth, the knuckle rocking in and out of Tommy’s hole as he whined in desperation. Green or Cheekbones- he couldn’t tell which, suddenly plunged in all the way up to the hilt. Tommy’s head fell back in a muffled gasp, his teeth biting and sucking in his lip as the two younger men exchanged dark, heated sneers.

Heated breath fluttered against Tommy’s ear; low, soothing words that brushed the raised hairs of his neck like a cascade of pins tumbling down his spine.

 “Like that, do you? See, I knew you’d come back round to us.”

Tommy whimpered, another blunt digit probing at the entrance to his stretched hole. The finger forced it way in; Tommy arched back as the intrusion brought more unfamiliar pain. Some place deep inside his head he knew it hadn’t even started yet, but his terrified mind could only focus on the pain of now. He couldn’t even contemplate the pain he knew the men would eventually be putting him through.

He heard Hazel shift. As the second finger was now thrust to its widest, sorest part, Tommy’s upper torso was forced up off of the ground.

He cried out, the burning fingers plunging even deeper into his body as Hazel pulled back on his arms over his head, forcing them up and back against the sockets. Still confined within the tube of his reversed t-shirt, they rotated on the very edge of their abilities until, one after another, his arms flew back against his body, the fabric stretched tight across his back pinning his arms to his sides yet leaving his chest still completely exposed. Blinking, Tommy felt the first tears obstinately wash down his face. The burning of his shoulders joined the cascade of fire penetrating his very being.

Hazel’s hand pressed firmly against the back of Tommy’s neck, keeping him in the new reclined position. Now fully able to see what was going on below his waist, Tommy felt another wave of sick, guttural horror.

The teenager had his hand shoved deep into the vee of Tommy’s legs, this dark, insane hunger in his eyes as his fingers pumped back and forth inside Tommy’s body. Beside him, Cheekbones had his fly open, fist wrapped tightly round the hard flesh within as his eyes tracked the hand rocking in and out of Tommy’s body.

Green glanced at Hazel and nodded.

The fingers were swiftly removed as Tommy’s world revolved on its axis, the rough ground now pressing against his chest as the three men flipped him onto his front.

Two hands gripped his hips and hauled them up in the air, pulling him onto his knees. Tommy tried to lift his torso but a heel between the shoulder-blades forced him back down. Someone kicked his knees apart, leaving them wide and open. The perfect position for fucking him.

He could hear his heart pounding in his ears; his whole body ringing like some sick bloody bastard holding a bass against his head and hammering on a low heavy E. He knew that note- he could play it. Had played it before, had loved the low, thick sound it made, but now it was just the sound of terror. The horsemen are drawing nearer.

Two palms descended on his buttocks and pulled the cheeks wide apart.

This was it. It was about to start happening. All the touching and the horror- that was nothing. The pain he had felt at being intruded by a single finger, by two, that was nothing. This was rape. This was reality. This was just starting. Now.

Tommy started pleading.

“No, no, no, please, no, please- please don’t do this.”

He felt the bulbous head lined up against his opening. Panic engulfed him ten-fold. He started screaming the words. Reality reduced itself to a trickling millisecond by millisecond consciousness, each moment in time painfully aware to Tommy as if it were his last. Who knew; it very well could be.

It was like a deadness inside absolute horror. He was about to be raped. He was being raped.

The fast thrum of the bass pounded in Tommy’s ears.

“No, please- PLEASE, PLEASE, NO; NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The thick member brutally surged forward, engulfing itself in Tommy’s flesh, ripping him apart. All Tommy knew was pain.

Raw guttural screams Tommy didn’t even realise he was capable of making were wrenched from his very being. The solid mass moving within him tore him apart, jerking thrusts that propelled deep within his body.

A hand clamped over his mouth; Tommy’s teeth slid automatically into the tender flesh; the gag was wrenched away. He vaguely heard someone saying it didn’t matter, that no one would be able to hear him over the din of the nightclub. He couldn’t hear the club. All Tommy could hear was screaming.

Tears cascaded down his face but Tommy barely even knew they were there. His body screamed. His mind screamed. He screamed, on and on, his voice catching and scoring and breaking like he was at some fucking rock concert. He’d seen the fans at Adam’s shows scream themselves horse every single night for months. His voice grew rough and raw, fading out as the air didn’t flow through properly; Tommy remembered Adam saying something about needing to properly warm the voice up before attempting mad belting notes otherwise you could seriously damage your vocal chords. Why the fuck was his mind fixating on some trivial conversation Adam had with him months ago? It was far too late to worry about vocal problems. Tommy couldn’t stop screaming even if he wanted to. And he so wanted to. All he wanted was this to end.

Tommy continued screaming as the three men took what they wanted from him. Taking turns as they used him, broke him, and left him bleeding.

Tommy just wanted it all to end. And when it did; when the men finally left him, a shivering, bleeding mess hidden far up the alley, Tommy continued wishing for the end.

Chapter Text

Adam had been dreaming of home when he was woken up by his cell phone. Feeling the last vestiges of warm comfort slide away from him, he blearily opened his eyes to a dark generic hotel room. The wide empty spaces on either side of the double bed loomed sullenly, mocking him. Then he caught sight of the cell phone blasting out Russian Roulette at night club volume.

He rolled over, picked it up;-

And threw it back onto the table, call declined. He barely registered who it was. He was tired. He was exhausted. It was the middle of the night and they’d just spent another five hours sitting on a bus before performing what had to have been one of the most gruelling shows this month. Nothing had gone right. The tech rehearsal had overrun, one of the drivers had lost the dancer’s costume case, Tommy’s mood had turned decidedly foul over the course of the day and Taylor had been struck down with food poisoning- which had not gone down well for anyone involved backstage before the show. All in all, an absolutely horrendous past 24 hours on the road. And the fans thought his life was glamorous…

Lying in bed in the early hours of the morning with the last screeching remnants of Rihanna echoing inside his head, Adam knew that if it was really important, they’d phone back. And if it wasn’t and they did- well, he could happily make their lives hell for the next few days or so. Glitter and drag usually worked for the more butch of the entourage, and shampoo wasn’t too hard to spike with hair dye. It could only either be really important, or a really drunk friend. The former would call him back. The latter would be hung for doing so.

So Adam once again turned over and tried to return to the fantasy world that his wonderful mind had created for him.

The cell phone screamed out again.

Eyes open, Adam waited for a moment before finally pulling the phone towards him.

                4:11 am.

          Tommy calling.

          Accept or Decline?

He sighed before hitting the button and holding the damned contraption to his ear.

“Tommy, you had better not be drunk calling me, cos It’s the middle of the night.” He said exhaustedly, trying to keep his tone at least somewhat civil.

There was a pause on the other end of the line; ragged breathing. Adam began to wonder whether it was actually Tommy calling him or whether someone (some fan?) had gotten hold of his phone.

“... Adam? I- shit.” There was the sound of hitched breathing, then another gasp. Adam reached for the bedside light, bringing the empty room into stark relief. It was Tommy’s voice; gravelly and oddly distorted, but Adam knew his friend well enough to recognise that that was his voice, and that something was very wrong.

“Tommy, what…?”

“Please, help me-” The voice was weak, pained. It broke off to another guttural sound, then the light sounds of gasping, crying.

Adam sat bolt upright and grabbed for his boxers and jeans. It was like someone had plunged ice cold water over him; he needed to move, but like being woken by the deafening screech of a fire alarm- his brain didn’t hesitate to pinpoint why, it just acted.

“Where are you? What happened?”

“I...” There was a heavy sob, then more gasping. A sound like scratching sandpaper. Adam swallowed heavily.

“Where are you?” He pulled a tee-shirt and hoodie over his neck before plunging his feet into the nearest boots.

“That club, close to the hotel. The...? The Siñorita.”

Adam frowned, his hand on the key card.

“And you can’t get-”

“Please, Adam. I need- agh, I...”

“I’m coming, Tommy, I’m already on my way.”

Cold terror ran through Adam’s veins as the hotel door clicked shut behind him and he sprinted down the benignly pleasant corridor. He could not understand why he felt such naked dread, he didn’t even know what the hell was going on but something flooded what should have been quiet concern into something all together more powerful.

Reaching the end of the corridor, he looked at the elevator- [L] Lobby floor. The plaque beside announced this was the third floor. Adam hesitated for another moment, before pulling on the stairs door. He glanced at the seemingly endless flights before propelling himself forward.

“Tommy, are you hurt? What happened?”

“argh. Yes, I- I hurt... all over. Fuck, Adam-”

There was muffled silence, then more heavy breathing. It sounded like... was he crying?

God- what happened?

“It’s all right, I’m coming, I’m on my way.”

“... Where are you? I mean, .. currently; not- ahh, I’m not demanding...” came the soft voice over the cell. Adam tried to suppress another swell of panic as he plunged himself further down the stairway.

By now Adam’s words came out amid the stuttering gasps of hurried breathing. Flying down another set of stairs, he could now see the ‘Level One’ plaque a flight below and started skipping a couple of stairs at a time.

“Currently, Tommy, I’m running... running down ten... ten flights of bl- ... bloody stairs.”

“Why couldn’t you...ah, why couldn’t you take the... elevator?”

Adam grunted, biting back an inappropriate response because- yeah- he really was regretting it now, but it was too late to go back. No doubt if he did press the call button now, the car would decide it needed to attend the twenty-second floor first.

“Because I’m stupid and thought... thought this would.. would be qu- ... quicker. Oh, fuck.” Adam rasped out, clutching at the stairwell door as he heaved in deep lungfuls of oxygen.

“What?”

“‘First floor’ isn’t the... the first floor. They’ve put ... put it on the second floor... Still got another flight of stairs to go. To the lobby floor...”

“Why’d the f- oh, fuck... Why’d they do that?”

“To fucking mess with me! Right, now on Lobby floor... Wow, great. We should go through hotels at four A- ... four AM more often, there’s ... literally no one here. Okay- I’m outside. Whataya say we tell... tell Lane to change our travel.. times?”

The reply was quiet and breathy.

“Yeah, Adam... you go do that. ... Enjoy the wrath of Sasha, Taylor and Isaac why don’t you!- AH AH-”

Adam’s face creased with concern as he jogged down the nearly deserted street. The phone had gone quiet again but for the sounds of ragged, pained breathing. Adam didn’t know what he hated most- hearing the obvious pain in his friend’s stuttered, broken speech, or enduring the long silent pauses where Adam’s imagination ran wild compiling all the horrific possibilities of what could have rendered Tommy silent from pain.

In the distance, Adam could just about make out the sinfully red neon sign of the Señorita club.

“...Adam?”

“Yeah?” His voice caught in his throat.

“Please... hurry?”

Adam swallowed, now just a block away from the vivid red sign.

“I’m coming, Glitterbaby, I’m almost there.”

The phone went dead. Adam felt another stab of fear wash over him.

Finally reaching the club, he ran into the dark alleyway and suddenly felt all his nervous apprehension dissolve into heavy dread. The alley was by no means empty- Two smokers stood at the club entrance, hungrily watching a couple opposite devouring each other’s faces with their hands buried deep within each other’s pants. The back door banged open and three Corpse Brides showing bare midriffs danced out with a male escort trailing his arms around their hips. One of the smokers turned to follow, screeching a couple of cat-calls after them as they disappeared into the night.

But what Adam couldn’t obviously see was Tommy.

Tommy had to be amongst them. There had been no sounds of the nightclub over the phone; it was the only sure thing that Adam did know about his location- he couldn’t have been inside the club, he had to be outside. The underlying rumble of bass had made it hard enough to make out Tommy’s words, but he knew he had to be somewhere nearby. But just where?

The singer cautiously stepped past the couple still locked to each other and walked on deeper into the dark alley. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he was hoping to at least see Tommy sitting back against a wall waiting expectantly for him. But there was no one to be seen. Just the shadowy figure of a drunk some way ahead sleeping it off.

Adam cautiously moved forward, praying desperately that Tommy was just a little way ahead, out of sight. Just a broken ankle and too much booze or something like that.

As Adam moved closer, he could make out that the sleeper was completely nude, and what appeared to be the remnants of his clothes scattered about the surrounding area. His back was curved, wiry and skeletal; a cheap date, Adam thought. His one night stand must not have been amused. Mind you, it depended on whether she (or he) had relieved him of his wallet. Then quite possibly an expensive date. He decided he’d quickly search this alley out before doubling back and looking for any other exterior crevices Tommy could have found himself within.

Adam kept moving forward, trying to see beyond the sleeper into the darkness beyond. However he couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering back to the prone form. His arms looks as though he was still wearing patterned sleeves, or were covered in large smudges of dirt; it was hard to tell in the nonexistent light. They were out stretched above his head, which had been tucked to the side as if tucked under a wing. He lay twisted, his back flexed and marked, his legs folded slightly as they trailed out to touch the wall.

It was with a jolt of embarrassment that Adam realised the markings on the man’s arms were tattoo sleeves.

It was then with another jolt of something much worse when he realised that the patterns etched into the man’s flesh were familiar. Too familiar. The dark, shaved hair suddenly took on a recognisable countenance as Adam’s eyes now picked out the shock of blond tucked under his arm. The body that looked so slight now instantly transformed itself, without even the slightest change, into the figure of a man that was so achingly familiar to Adam.

Tommy Joe Ratliff.

For several moments, Adam could not move. It could only have been seconds- four at most, but the overwhelming horror of what he saw before him rendered him completely immobile for what seemed like hours. Adam could only look on helplessly as his mind caught up with the horror of seeing exactly what had rendered his good friend gasping in agony. His imagination hadn’t even come close.

Tommy’s skin seemed deathly pale in the half-moon light. Adam’s eyes were drawn to the dark, seemingly black streaks at his hips, thin parallel lines that raked over the smooth flesh. What looked like smudges over his arms and wrists, blending in with some of the tattoos, a few creeping over the sides of his torso.

Adam’s chest was tight, painfully constricted forcing nothing but the slightest of breaths from his lungs. His beating heart now only pumped ice through his veins; his powerfully trained vocal chords rendered useless as the muscle and sinew turned to lead within his throat.

He couldn’t help but notice the visceral darkness smeared between his legs, a glistening dampness he knew in any light would be tinged with crimson.

It was a shock of reality which Adam knew would be imprinted upon his mind forever. His friend laid out before him. Naked. Vulnerable. Bleeding.

Raped.

Adam finally jerked himself into movement, carefully moving around his friend’s exposed body to kneel by his face.

 

Chapter Text

Author note.

Firstly, I really want to apologise for the delay in posting. Unfortunately, my family received a call in mid-February that my grandmother was extremely ill, and was unlikely to survive. Since then, my mother has been spending most of her days by her bedside. As you can imagine, this has been an extremely stressful and harrowing time for us. A few days ago, she finally passed on.

Please forgive the delay to things whilst we try and come to terms with our loss. I will continue editing and writing once the funeral is over, in several days’ time. I cannot give any real estimates as to when to expect the next chapter, as I do not know how well I will be able to work and focus, however, I give a tentative estimate at two to three weeks time.

I will continue to give twitter announcements from now on, letting you know when I actually get back to work on the story, and how things are going, estimated update times. I’m sorry I’ve been silent until now, but hopefully you can understand why.

SapphireNight

.

UPDATE: Could I please say the biggest of all thank-you's for all of the warm messages that you have been sending me. I really didn't expect such touching messages of love from people I barely/didnt know; I can honestly say it was so heartening to discover those sitting in my inbox especially when I was having a particularilly low moment.

Thank you all so much for your love and understanding, and I'll let you know via Twitter as the new material comes along.

Again, THANK YOU.

SapphireNight

Chapter Text

Adam finally jerked himself into action, carefully moving around his friend’s exposed body to kneel by his face.

Tommy’s eyes were open and staring. Glassy. Damp with mascara blackened tear-tracks, thick streaks across his face that hollowed out the sockets and scored his cheeks. But not looking at Adam. They were fixed on the fractured mobile lying on the edges of his fingertips, it’s blackened screen flashing momentarily before finally slipping through numb, shaking fingers. It briefly flashed ‘Missed call from ‘Adam’’ before dying again. Each and every muscle in Tommy’s face and body was pulled rigid, taught under the pale flesh, sporadically quivering or twitching of their own volition.

Adam bit his lip.

“Tommy?” he whispered.

Rich brown eyes snapped to ice blue; Tommy crumpled. Liquid immediately began refilling his eyes, glistening black as they leaked out and over once more; his chest swelling as he sucked in heavy breaths. A horrid, off-key moan started sounding from his closed lips with every breath he released.

Adam felt his nightmares open up and swallow him whole. None of those horror classics Tommy had subjected him to could have prepared him for this. They had never portrayed the pure terror that Adam felt now. Tommy was in agony; but it wasn’t a sound that was heard with the ears, it was something much, much deeper. It was that thing Adam tried putting into the most honest and personal of his songs. Heart. And it was bleeding.

Adam leaned closer, his hand hesitating in the air just inches above Tommy’s shoulder, a pained ‘shush’ on his lips. The desperate whining altered; changed pitch, but did not stop.

“Tommy, Tommy, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here now, it’s going to be okay.” Adam whispered over and over, more a desperate mantra to himself as well as to Tommy.

Adam’s hand made contact with his shoulder. Tommy immediately flinched back, before breaking off into a guttural sob and leaning in towards where the hand had left his skin. As the desperate whining restarted and increased in pitch, Adam clamped his hand back round Tommy’s flesh. Tommy quietened.

Shit, he was freezing.

“Tommy, breath, you need to breath. It’s okay, I’m here, we’re gonna… we’re gonna get through this. It’s okay.”

“Adam…”

“Shush, I know, I know. It’s going to be okay.”

Adam’s throat tightened again. Tommy’s piercing eyes were fixed on him, heavy, depending. Fuck, he was so cold. Adam could have been touching a corpse.

Adam yanked the zipper down on his hoodie and shrugged it off. God, this was too sick. Placing it length ways over Tommy’s torso, he gingerly lowered the lower half over his hips and draped the sleeve to cover Tommy’s exposed flesh.

Adam reached for Tommy’s cell, still lying dead below his open hand, before stopping and pulling his own out of his pocket. He wrapped his free hand back around Tommy’s exposed forearm.

“Everything’s going to be alright. We’ll get you to hospital, they’ll look you over, help you; everything will be okay.” Adam murmured encouragingly, tapping his thumb over the three digits he’d never thought he’d ever have to dial. 911.

He didn’t see Tommy’s face as it blanched.

“Nine one one, what is your emergency?”

“Yes; my friend’s been attacked; we’re at the back of-” Adam broke off as Tommy began shaking his head, his eyes desperate. Adam watched in confusion as a wave after wave of emotion passed across his face, each too rapid for Adam to define but all with their root in panic.

“Please, Adam, no. No, no, no; please- I cant; dont—”

“Hello, caller, please say again, I didn’t catch your location. Is he injured? Do you need paramedics in addition to police assistance?”

“No! Please no no no NO NO.”

Tommy’s eyes were frenzied, his voice horse as he began screaming as if still under attack. Adam’s hand slowly dropped from beside his ear as a wave of fresh horror coursed through him.

“Hello, sir? Is everything okay? Are the attackers still with you; I still need your location, sir.”

Adam said nothing, barely registering the tiny voice that was only just there. He gave a dry sob as Tommy finally grew silent, his body shaking heavily. There was a sick, wet pop as more fluid escaped from his backside.

“Sir, sir, are you still there? I need your location sir, I can not send anyone to you without your location.”

“No… no hospitals,” Tommy whispered.

His eyes locked on Tommy, Adam brought the phone back up to his ear finally, catching the end of the alarmed operator’s stream of commentary.

“No, I… we don’t need-”

Tommy somehow managed to snatch the phone out of his hand.

“Don’t need- don’t need an ambulance. Cant afford it. Told him not to call. Sorry.”

Adam hung up.

“Why?” he asked softly, his freckled brow folded in concern. “You need help, Tommy. You may be- may be injured, or- We need to get you checked over. ”

The blonde’s face contorted.

“Not… fucking…”

He gave a helpless sob, and looked away from Adam’s penetrating eyes.

“I don’t want anyone to see this.” he murmured to the pavement.

A sick lump knotted in the singer’s throat.

“Tommy, no one needs to know, but you need to get some help.”

Tommy’s eyes locked on Adam; all the pain and misery aching in the dark orbs.

“You’re Adam Lambert. Everything you do is caught for— for fucking ‘prosperity,’ or seen by a dozen fans and the cameras. If you walk into hospital carrying your na… naked bassist , the whole world will know by tomorrow morning. I work for you, Adam. I’m your b- nurgh, your fucked-up bassist. We’re already- oh fuck… fucking according to Twitter- what d’you think they’ll—”

Adam’s face contorted in helpless anger.

“I don’t give a damn what they think. You’re my friend; if you think that I would just let you—”

“What do you think the papers are gonna say? You’re my- my fucking friend, Adam! - I’m not— I wont have them take you down with this. I wont. But… Once it’s out, it’s out. Everyone will know. How I… And I cant—” he broke off with a heavy sob. “I can’t let anyone know. I can’t… Please Adam, it can’t be…”

Adam drew a deep, agonised sigh.

“Tommy…”

The man was raw; laid bare. Exposed, in every possible way. He shook his head; more blackened tears washing over already blackened cheeks.

“I cant… They’ll be calling you a monster. They wont be able to see… And they’ll know I’m… Of how- how much of a weak, pathetic fucking…”

“Shit, Tommy. You are not! You cant- this wasn’t your fault.”

“How can you say that!” Tommy cried, “Of course it is, Adam! This… I should have been able to fucking stop it. I’m a grown man, I should have been able to… to push them off, or, or something; I should have known better then to have just…”

Adam brought his hands down to either side of Tommy’s face and forced him to look directly into his piercing eyes.

“Tommy, you’ve been… you’ve been raped,” he whispered. “No one asks for that; no one doesn’t try to do everything in their power to get free. You are not weak just because it happened. It doesn’t matter that you- that you went out to get drunk, or wore tight fucking clothing; - you did not ask for it. People go out and get hammered all the time. They did it to you. It was not your fault.”

Tommy gave a hesitant breath, and then nodded. His eyes, however, were closed in shame.

Adam was silent as he clutched Tommy’s shivering torso to his body. He was crying again. Shit, he still needed to get him out of there.

“We need to get you back inside. Get you- get you tended to, see if your hurt.” Adam’s throat closed up. “I could… I could… if you needed… I might… check that you’re alright.”

Tommy nodded, any shyness or insecurity forgotten in the face of the pain radiating through his body. He knew what Adam meant; he had chosen to phone him for that reason- he’d needed a friend who he trusted, who he was comfortable with, but who also knew at least something about the type of sex that he had been forced to experience. Someone who had at times experimented with it rough. Someone who hopefully knew how to patch him up.

Wrapping his arm around Tommy’s back and holding him to him, Adam looked down at his friend and tried to figure out what to do next. He lay completely naked, his clothes ripped off and scattered about them, and there simply was no way that Adam could carry him like that. And Tommy was right. Adam knew full well; the media would have a field-day if they caught sight of this. No matter how sensitive the issue, they would always fuck it up and blow it all out of the water. But then, there was also the very real and pressing issue that Tommy was injured, and he was freezing. The longer he remained out in the cold, the more likely it was he’d develop pneumonia on top of everything else he had been subjected to.

Looking around them, Adam tried to identify what was left of Tommy’s clothing. He reached for a white piece of material that was closest to them; pulling it close he opened it up to discover it was Tommy’s tee-shirt, pulled and distorted massively out of shape. Throwing it aside, Adam shuddered as his hand came back damp. He swore violently to himself.

Looking down at the small figure in his lap, covered by the narrow expanse of Adam’s hoodie, the larger man moved a powerful arm round behind Tommy’s shoulders and pulled him up against his chest, supporting him.

He lifted the material from over Tommy’s body, being careful not to look at any of the discoloured flesh beneath, and slid the fabric over Tommy’s arms. The other arm was slightly more difficult- Tommy was having trouble moving his shoulders round behind him, and it eventually only slid over the other hand with Tommy’s arm in a position that caused him to cry out breathlessly.

Adam swallowed thickly, his apology heavy and guttural in his throat. His back to him, Tommy shook his head. Wasn’t his fault.

As Adam glanced round again, he prayed that Tommy’s pants were in somewhat of an intact condition. Reaching out, he shifted Tommy a little; hating the way he cringed under him, and took hold of the dark fabric. Studied it one-handedly for a moment. Skinny jeans. Tight, though they could have been much worse; they looked relatively intact from stains, though the zip had been jammed open with force. Adam just prayed they would do.

Whispering another string of apologies, Adam let carefully laid Tommy’s torso back down to the ground, and moved over to the end of Tommy’s feet.

The smaller man seemed to go rigid as Adam hovered over his legs, but he couldn’t tell whether it was because of what he was about to do- and the pain it would inflict; or what Adam could potentially see at that angle.

Adam opened up the pants, and carefully manoeuvred each of Tommy’s feet into a leg hole. Bighting his lip, he slowly pushed the fabric up and over Tommy’s ankles, each and every movement to his legs sending shards of jagged pain straight up into the apex of his anus. Adam stopped just part way up the calves, unable to listen to his friend’s pained cries anymore. Guilt festering deep within his stomach, Adam reached over and took Tommy’s nearest hand. The returning grip was almost painful.

Bunching as much of the fabric as he could over Tommy’s ankles, Adam took a deep breath, looked back over to Tommy, and with a slight inclination of his head, began pulling the fabric further up his legs. Adam closed his eyes as each of Tommy’s gasps and cries cut deep into him. With the fabric now midway up his thighs, he quickly pulled up the remaining fabric of each leg to expose Tommy’s feet, and then-

Then Adam had to get Tommy standing again.

Coming back round to Tommy’s torso, Adam reached out to cradle him bridal style; one arm behind his shoulders and the other supporting under Tommy’s knees, he began to slowly lift him. Tommy let out a low whine as his feet slowly began to take on his own weight again.

Finally getting him somewhat vertical, though that did involve Tommy standing arched over like an old man, Adam began to carefully finish pulling the pants all the way up and over his hips. He tried to give it another small tug to get the waistband to meet, but quickly decided after another string of pained gasps to let it just sit loose.

He looked up at Tommy with an apologetic glance.

The bassist gave him a shrug.

“Need a fucking guit— ah… fucking guitar in my lap.”

“I’ll see if I can find one, then.” Adam whispered.

Adam tucked him in and zipped up the hoodie, relieved that it came down low enough over his thin hips to cover him. Finally releasing the fabric for the last time, Adam gave Tommy a small ‘its over’ smile.

“Bloody good… thing my ass is- is so fucking flat!” Tommy giggled, though it sounded rather more like a hiccough.

Adam tried to grin, but he was sure he didn’t quite manage it. Tommy let out a small sigh, and limped closer to him, swinging his arm around Adam’s shoulders.

“Lets… let go.”

Adam didn’t need any more persuasion.

He did, however, pick up the remaining pieces of Tommy’s ruined clothes before slowly walking them both out of the alleyway.

~*~*~

Chapter Text

Tommy let out a small sigh, and limped closer to him, swinging his arm around Adam’s shoulders.

“Lets… let go.”

Adam didn’t need any more persuasion.

He did, however, pick up the remaining pieces of Tommy’s ruined clothes before slowly walking them both out of the alleyway.

~*~*~

Or, at least, that was the plan. Tommy had taken a deep breath, and then hesitantly took a step a couple of inches forward. He sucked in a couple more deep breaths, and did the same with the other foot. Adam decided to ask whether he could actually walk at all. The glare he received effectively shut him up.

Adam just held onto his frame as he patiently waited for him. After three more agonisingly slow steps, Tommy stilled, now whimpering again, and looked moodily into Adam’s face.

“… Fine.”

“Bridal style, or Fireman’s carry?” Adam asked quietly. Tommy cringed as his head was filled with thoughts of Adam carrying him with all the ease of a bloody bimbo, yet something very real and very painful stopped him from refusing outright.

“Which would hurt less?”

Adam sighed dejectedly.

“Where are you most sore? Your abdomen or your back? Because a fireman’s carry will be tough on your stomach, but if you’ve got bruising across your back it might be best.”

Tommy nodded silently, his eyes trained on the ground. He couldn’t help a slight shudder that ran down his spine.

“Fireman’s…”

Adam swallowed, but nodded none-the-less. He kept on learning little snippets of information, sharp little fragments which, try as he might, he couldn’t stop from embedding into his memory like splinters. Like the pointed notion that he would have to take a close look at his back when they got home.

The larger man carefully bent down once again, gathering Tommy’s legs as he leaned over Adam’s shoulder. He was just about to lift him when Tommy suddenly sprang out of his grasp, hobbling backwards and nearly falling until Adam caught him in a loose grasp.

“Shhhh, shhh. It’s okay, Tommy, it’s okay. There’s no hurry.”

Eyes wide, Tommy found himself suddenly hyperventilating. He tried to focus on Adam’s concerned face as he worked to slow his breathing.

“I don’t want… I… I’d rather not be carried high in the air ass first. And I think I might throw up over you.” Tommy muttered, glancing away.

Adam offered him a half-smile.

“We can make the other one work out, it’s okay. Just let me know if I’m hurting you at all.”

Tommy breathed out slowly, eyes not quite focused on Adam.

“…’Kay.”

Adam simply nodded again, and very carefully, very slowly, bent to gather Tommy’s legs under his knees and lift him a second time, his arm already securely braced across his upper back. Tommy didn’t arch his arm around Adam’s shoulders but simply chose to grip onto the front of Adam’s tee with tight fisted hands. Adam adjusted the bundle in his arms and then stared swiftly walking on. Tommy tried not to think about the fact that the pile of rags now sitting at his midsection were the remaining components of his destroyed clothing.

 

Adam had to pause a couple of times, gently setting Tommy on his bare feet on the sidewalk, but in all Tommy was actually amazed at how strong he proved to be. Yeah, so Adam had picked him up a couple of times when the Glamily had been messing around; he was the weight of a twig they always joked- but he had never carried him for any length of time before. Let along the twenty minute journey it took for them to reach the the familiar street the tour busses had pulled up in front of.

Approaching the hotel, Adam ducked into a side road immediately before the main entrance, heading towards a smaller, open door. Carrying Tommy into the well lit staff entrance, Adam was suddenly confronted with the damage that had been done to Tommy’s face. One cheek was reddened, swelling; a dark colour bleeding into the shadows already looping Tommy’s eye. The other side of his jaw was carrying colour too, and his hair was oddly flat and disarranged. Adam shifted his grip and walked on.

The staff hallway was open and deserted, the skeleton night staff of the small establishment thankfully completing jobs elsewhere in the main hotel areas. Only the odd rustle from a couple of side changing rooms were the only evidence of habitation down in the bowels of the hotel.

It was of course then that the two exhausted men were confronted by a bellboy walking out directly in front of them. He started, jumping nearly out of his skin as Adam made an abrupt and rather painful halt as well, before the man’s Hispanic features contorted in annoyance.

“This is staff area, sir! No permission to guest! You trespassing, sir- no trespassing! You must leave.”

Adam glanced down at Tommy, his head now hidden into the crook of Adam’s chest and arm, the overly large hoodie exposing a particularly vicious mark at the back of his neck as it shapelessly enveloped his form.

No Trespassing.

Adam snapped.

The singer marched right up to the man.

“My friend’s been mugged. I need to take him up to my room, sort him out. Can you take us there- it’s on the third floor.”

Adam’s tone was clipped and direct.

The man nodded and immediately beckoned them forward. When living in hotels for months on end, one learnt the intricacies of how they worked. In this particular hotel, the third floor held the fewest rooms, held the largest rooms- the suites. It was the floor reserved for the wealthy or the famous. Having a room on the third floor meant a lot more then just where you were sleeping.

The man walked them through a couple more corridors, dipping out of view occasionally as Adam struggled to keep up with him, Tommy clutched tightly against his chest. They finally caught up as the man stood in front of the staff elevator, the call button glowing warmly until the doors slid open with a ding as they arrived. The bellboy took a cursory glance inside before beckoning them forward with all the grace of a secret agent. Adam adjusted the bassist in his arms. His grip tightened on Adam’s lapels, refusing to be lowered.

The doors slid shut heavily behind them.

By now, Adam was beginning to worry. Tommy was now completely coddled into a tight, rigid ball in his arms, and whilst he had been lightly whimpering earlier he was now almost silent, holding onto every breath for as long as he could. Every twenty seconds or so, he would gasp in another lungful, a desperate hitching sob as he pressed himself into Adam’s warm body.

The hotel worker immediately glanced away as Adam looked towards him. The singer tried to keep his face straight as he cleared his throat and nodded towards his pocket.

“My key card is in my left pocket. The room’s at the very end of the hall, the one with the fire exit, but quite a way after that. Three two two I think?”

The man nodded, saying nothing as he slipped his hand into Adam’s pocket.

The elevator doors dinged open and the bellboy took off in an efficient march down the corridor. Adam studied the room numbers as they trailed behind, his heart dimming slightly as he read them. They started at three sixty seven and just continued rising.

After what seemed like an agonisingly long time, they stopped outside a door marked three seven two and, with a quick glance at Adam, the card was inserted. The lock immediately flashed green.

Adam carefully placed Tommy down on the bed. His gaze lingered on his friend, curled up on his side, before he turned and reached for his wallet on the bedside table. Behind him, the bellboy had slipped the key card into the energy switch. The bedside lamp flicked on, bathing the space in a low gloom. Adam fished out a suitably large note and folded it into the waiting man’s hand, leaning in close as he did so to mummer into his ear. The bellboy gave a curt nod of his head and disappeared, not even bothering to check the paper in his fist.

And so Adam and Tommy were left alone in a hotel room together.

~*~

Adam turned back to Tommy, lying on the edge of the king-sized bed. He was shifting very carefully on his side, inching his way forward.

Adam swallowed. They were finally alone. Finally within the safety of the hotel. It was time.

This was the part of the night that he had been dreading. Funny, normally the opportunity to undress a young, pretty man in the middle of the night was a highlight, but not this time. God, if he had known when he first saw Tommy that the first time he had auditioned that he would one day be about to do this to him; Fuck, if he had known the first time they started repeatedly kissing for the fans, laughing together about it, joking how the fans still seemed to think there was a possibility between the hot singer and his straight musician…

Fuck, if he had known, all that time ago, that he would now be scouring his good friend’s skin for fucking rape wounds, he didn’t think he would have been able to probably even speak. To even function. He didn’t know if he could even now, but he needed to. Tommy needed him to.

Adam squatted down beside the large bed and looked Tommy in the eye.

“Its… I need to…”

Adam sighed.

“I’m gonna have a look at you now,” he said quietly. “I’ll see how hurt you are just… generally, and then, after, I’ll… take a look… inside.”

Tommy didn’t look horrified or panicked. He wasn’t even relieved. He just looked kinda lost, looking into Adam’s eyes with what he realised was absolute trust.

Adam took a step back and looked down at the bed. At how Tommy was lying on it. Making his mind up in a quick second, he grabbed the large towels from the rail in the bathroom and dumped them on a chair. Turning back to Tommy, he ran a hand through his own lank bangs and tried to figure out how he would do this.

“Tommy, I’m going to arrange the sheets so you’ll be more comfortable when we do this. I— Fuck, I don’t want to be moving you, but I don’t see another way of doing this without hurting you more by leaving you on the bed and jostling you?”

Adam’s eyes were questioning, boring into Tommy as he begged for an answer that would help him. Tommy’s brows creased in an echo of anger at Adam’s pandering and gritted out, “just do what you need to do.”

Adam nodded and scooped him up again, laying him carefully on the floor directly before the bed. He pulled at the already upheavelled bed clothes, wrenching the sheet and duvet out together and folded them length-ways in half. He pulled the creased sheets out from the middle and dumped them on the other side of the bed, grabbing one of the towels and laying it flat over the doubled duvet. Then, he laid Tommy directly over them.

Tommy immediately curled back on his side, returning to the same position he had been in previously as a low whine emitted from his lips. He fidgeted, his arms jerkily tried to work the zip on the hoodie, hurriedly trying to get rid of it as if it were a doctor’s examination and he were expected to strip before the doctor lost patience.

Adam calmly brought his hands up to cover Tommy’s, stopping his hurried movements. The blond’s eyes slowly rose up to meet Adam’s again and he felt some of the panic dissipate. The singer carefully unzipped the fabric and slowly slid it off Tommy’s shoulders, lifting him slightly with a steady hand and leaving his chest bare.

Tommy let his gaze fall as Adam’s eyes began to rake over him. Tommy determinedly stared at a mismatched spot on the patterned carpet as Adam’s eyes scoured his body.

Adam’s hand’s reached out towards Tommy’s back when suddenly there was a dull thump thump on the door.

~*~*~

Chapter Text

Adam calmly brought his hands up to cover Tommy’s, stopping his hurried movements. The blond’s eyes slowly rose up to meet Adam’s again and he felt some of the panic dissipate. The singer carefully unzipped the fabric and slowly slid it off Tommy’s shoulders, lifting him slightly with a steady hand and leaving his chest bare.

Tommy let his gaze fall as Adam’s eyes began to rake over him. Tommy determinedly stared at a mismatched spot on the patterned carpet as Adam’s eyes scoured his body.

Adam’s hand’s reached out towards Tommy’s back when suddenly there was a dull thump thump on the door.

~*~

Tommy froze. His muscles locked as his form suddenly grew rigid; not a muscle changing yet his whole body now invariably different to the semi-relaxed pose it had been in before.

Adam paused for just a moment, then carefully draped the clean white sheet over Tommy’s form. He didn’t say anything as he stood up and made his way over to the door; no kind words of reassurance or hesitant ‘It’ll be alright’. It wouldn’t have helped.

Adam approached the door, positioning himself directly between the opening side and the view of the bed.

The thin sliver of a face appeared behind. Dark, tanned Eastern skin. Warm eyes. Adam opened the door wider.

The bellboy who had escorted them up earlier revealed himself behind.

“Sir? I have for you items requesting.”

Adam nodded at him; he was carrying a large white plastic box in his arms, a smaller lumpy bag on top. The singer took the supplies off him and the man turned and left, palming the folded note Adam had slipped him under the box.

Just before Adam closed the door however, a door at the other end of the hall caught his eye. As it slid shut. And a thin sliver of a face retreated from the slight opening, eye wedged between the door and frame before it closed.

Adam tried to put it out of his mind as he slid his own door closed.

~

As Adam turned back, Tommy was watching him with a look of mild panic. Adam gave a small smile, and set the plastic box down. From its position on the floor, the thick red cross was visible plastered over the top. The clear plastic bag looked as though it had been lifted from the housemaids trolley. As it fell over, a couple dozen flat cotton-wool pads spilt out onto the floor.

Adam opened the first-aid box and began looking through the contents, taking out some liquid disinfectant and a few dressings of various sizes. Twisting the bottles in his hands to read the details, he suddenly seemed to double think something and muttered a small ‘be right back’ before disappearing off in the direction of the adjoining bathroom. He reappeared a few seconds later, wringing his hands dry on an ultra-fluffy hotel towel he unceremoniously dumped on the floor before returning there himself.

Adam settled himself on the ground, arranging the various items on the floor and rearranging them again, fiddling with various things for several minutes until he finally lowered his hands down dejectedly and gave Tommy a sigh.

“You’ve got a couple of scrapes over your back and… Well, I’ll make sure they’re clean before we start doing… anything else.”

Tommy looked at him, before nodding. Adam nodded in response.

Adam picked up the bottle of disinfectant and a handful of complementary cotton pads, and pulled back the sheet that had been draping Tommy’s form. Tommy was still in his tight jeans, clinging onto his narrow hips above a series of dark marks that bit into the pale expanse of flesh over his back. Adam took one of the cotton makeup pads, sprinkled some disinfectant over it, and then with a warning hand on Tommy’s waist (he hated the accompanying flinch), he started to apply the wipes to the long, red marks.

Until the marks began to disappear below Tommy’s pants.

Adam continued to clean up any other breaks in the skin across his back, but for the most part, most of the damage showed in mottled purples under his flesh. When he was done with the marks he could see, he rested the cotton pad down on the bed and moved round into Tommy’s sight.

“I think I’m probably done with your back, but there’s some marks that I can’t fully reach. And, I think I may be ready to… move on. If you want to, you know, remain covered, I can just take down the tops of your pants to clean this up and, er, you know, get access, to…?”

Tommy shivered.

“Take them off. I don’t want- they’re not… they’re… dirty.”

Adam nodded silently. He didn’t want to apply these basic facts of sex and mess to his friend’s body but it was just there, in his head. In front of his eyes. He knew he must have been leaking on the way over. He reached for Tommy’s waist and carefully popped the button open, slowly pulling the zip down they had found necessary to fix on the way over. Tommy’s flesh revealed itself beneath. Glancing away, Adam moved his hands round the back of Tommy’s waist and slowly worked the material off his hips.

Adam felt his heart sink again, and a bitter taste of bile rose thickly, burning the back of his throat. The seat of Tommy’s pants were soaked through. Adam paused, trying to breathe deeply through his nose as his eyes invariably took in the skin now exposed to him. It didn’t seem real. It couldn’t be real.

It was.

Tommy’s eyes met his, and it was like the world collided.

Tommy was trusting him. Tommy was needing him to be calm and just help him.

~*~

Adam gave what he hoped was more of a smile then a grimace, and worked the pants down as far as was easy with Tommy still lying in them. He moved round to the end of the bed and gripped the bottom of the leggings, slowly carefully pulling on them.

The shriek that came from Tommy froze Adam with sudden horror, an awful sound like that of a wounded animal. Adam had instinctively let go and flinched back, before he seemed to regain his senses and dropped to Tommy’s side on his knees, whispering continuous words of apology and assurances and hesitantly brushing his hand through Tommy’s blond hair until his breathing slowed a little and his dark eyes opened again.

“I’m sorry, Tommy. I’m so, so sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you—”

“You didn’t, I… You didn’t.”

Tommy paused, his eyes able no longer to meet Adam’s as his face blanched in shame.

“That’s what… he did. He… he stood over me and pulled them off of me, and they just… left me.”

Adam turned away, feeling suddenly heavy and sick. They had done that. The same exact thing. And Adam had just copied them. Adam had…

The bastard had forced him to the ground and held him down. He had undone Tommy’s jeans, and then pulled them off him, just like that. Just like you… And he had left Tommy exposed. And then he had raped him.

Adam tried to swallow as another wave of bile flooded his mouth. Tommy had closed his eyes, turning away from him in shame.

Adam bent down to whisper in his ear.

“Not your fault.”

Tommy opened his eyes as Adam straightened up from his crouched position.

He continued gently pushing the fabric down his legs- moving it down his form rather then trying to pull it towards him, but he kept his eyes down, and his mind on the task. He couldn’t let his mind slip to anything else. As the pants finally came away from Tommy’s ankles, Adam bundled the fabric and deposited it on the floor. And then cursed (what he hoped was) under his breath as a sticky, wet smear appeared over the fleshy part of his palm. He stared at the bloodied hand in absolute hatred, holding it away from him and then putting it out of sight, as if the stained residue would no longer exist if he couldn’t see it. He closed his eyes and collected himself. Opened them again.

There was a large smear of red blossoming across the top of his friend’s thighs.

Adam only faltered for a split moment, before grabbing hold of the soft towel and quickly bringing it to the apex of Tommy’s legs, carefully wiping away most of the free fluid there. No blood immediately rushed to replace it; Adam closed his eyes momentarily in thanks. He folded the fabric over, turning the soiled section inside, and lightly placed it along the line of Tommy’s form, propping him up and stopping any more fluid from running over him.

“Urm… I need—” Adam broke off, lost.

He draped the sheet once again over Tommy’s form.

And then, he all but fled into the bathroom.

The door clicked closed as he locked it behind him, and then Adam found himself leaning heavily against it as exhaustion overcame him. His forehead bent to meet the cool surface, and he suddenly realised he was gasping for breath.

He studied his reflection in the mirror.

He couldn’t do this; not, not his good friend, not a man he had been performing with almost every night, had pulled around the stage by his hair and kissed in front of live audiences, had playfully insinuated all sorts of silly, raunchy things with him. Tommy had been raped. He had been attacked, left bleeding, and was now lying in Adam’s bed, waiting for him to so something that Adam only did with his intimate partners in their most private moments. Fuck. He felt the heat rise up through his face again and he threaded his fingers through the thick filaments of his hair, tugging at them, pulling, in desperation and anger.

And then, just like that, he felt helpless.

Tears had already left Adam’s face in a wet mess. He looked at his distraught expression in the mirror- the red eyes, panic-flushed cheeks and light freckles littering his entire complexion. Studied his blue-grey eyes, somehow more bright amongst the redness bleeding through into them.

He had to go out there, part the cheeks of his best friend’s ass and clean up the blood and semen from his anus. He had to slide his fingers into a man whom he cherished for being so comfortable about his own sexual identity, for being blissfully unavailable to him, and try and determine whether his rapists had left him dangerously torn. To determine whether the tears inside were severe enough that Adam had to go against his friend’s explicit wishes and seek professional medical help. Adam cried for the fact that he had to hurt his friend further- both emotionally and physically, in order to help him.

 

But he had to help him, and he knew he was never going to do so if he kept himself locked in the bathroom. Spinning the cold tap on, Adam plunged his hands under the icy water and ran them over his face. Next came the soap. Again. He scrubbed his hands rigorously, as if a surgeon going into the operating theatre. He turned around for a towel, then realised he had taken the main one he’d been using with him earlier. He dried his hands on another and shoved it over one shoulder to take that out with him too. And then something in the background caught his eye.

Giving himself one final glance at his (now dripping) reflection, he turned his back to the mirror and picked up the tray of condiments sitting on the shelf.

Sorting through the usual crap that hotels provided, Adam gathered anything useful on the closed toilet-seat lid- cotton wool, cotton pads, flannel (he wasn’t sure whether that was complementary or not, but he couldn’t give a shit), ‘sterilised’ glass; and then he gave up sorting and dumped everything onto the towel to carry with him. Plunging through the draws, Adam excavated any other the free supplies that hotels always provided and dumped them all in the towel to carry back out.

Checking his reflection one last time in the mirror, Adam unlocked the door and walked back out into the bedroom.

~

Tommy hadn’t moved under the covers. He appeared to be sleeping, but as the door moved open, so did his hazy eyes. Adam deposited the stuff on the bed, before making a detour to his luggage bag and began digging through that too. Tommy watched him closely with hooded eyes. Adam pulled out more cotton wool and some disposable cleansing wipes, before delving right to the bottom. He finally extracted two bottles, checked the labels carefully, then added the lot to the pile.

Adam returned to the bed to go through the collection of condiments. Cotton wool, a sewing kit (really? In the executive suite?), a toothbrush and a thimble-full of toothpaste, his own flannel, a tampon and sanitary towel squeezed into a small box that Adam very quickly flung off the side of the bed; circular pads of cotton wool. And slippers.

And that was it. All bottles and condiments sorted, spread out in front of him.

And now, there was nothing left with which to put off this last task. Adam turned back to the bed, and crouched by Tommy.

“I’m ready to start now,” Adam whispered. Tommy sucked in a hot breath. His eyes danced sporadically around the headboard and the door before settling on Adam again. He gave him a furtive nod.

He was ready.

*~*~*

Chapter Text

IMPORTANT: MAY I ASK ANYONE WHO IS A READER OF 'SOMEWHERE ELSE TO BE', NOT TO LINK TO THIS STORY ELSEWHERE, AND NOT TO FORWARD IT TO ANYONE OUTSIDE OF THE FANFICTION COMMUNITY.

 

I DO NOT WANT ANY OF REAL PEOPLE FROM THIS FIC MADE AWARE OF IT, FOR OBVIOUS REASONS. Thanks.

 

 

Chapter Text


*~*~*

“I’m ready to start now,” Adam whispered. Tommy sucked in a hot breath. His eyes danced sporadically around the headboard and the door before settling on Adam again. He gave him a furtive nod.

He was ready.

Almost.

~*~

There was an echoing silence as nothing happened for several moments. Tommy had turned away from him; Adam had stilled with his clean hands hovering in mid-air above him, hesitant to touch, unwilling to move. He listened as Tommy took in another shaky breath. And then turned on his mattresses to lock eyes again.

“Do you need… is…? How—What do you need me to do?”

Adam blinked, taken by surprise and seemingly dumbfounded. Tommy twisted round further, his breath catching as he moved. As Adam’s mind slowly caught up, he laid a soft hand down on Tommy’s side and stopped him turning back any more. Tommy winced as his back settled partially on new material.

“Stay on your side. It’ll probably be… It’ll be easier on you. You don’t need to—” Adam broke off, pressing a fist into his forehead. “Just bring your knees up, all the way up to your chest.”

Tommy seemed to quiver as he nodded. He allowed himself to roll back onto his side very carefully, and then slowly pulled his knees up, his breath growing fast and harsh in his throat. As Tommy’s knees drew up towards his chest, a dark swell of fluid gurgled out from between his legs and Adam quietly swore, grabbing the towel and immediately bringing it down to stop the progression of the thick swell.Adam felt the back of his tongue prickle like salt.

The bright lights of the room allowed Adam to see quite clearly all the dirt, blood and come that was smeared down Tommy’s legs. Adam swallowed. He had concentrated on cleaning his back and arms; but he had avoided anything lower than the waist. Adam reached over for the cotton pads, then grabbed the empty plastic bag the hotel stuff had come in. He very gently wiped away as much of the muck from Tommy’s legs and backside as he conceivably could, disposing of the cotton as he used it in the bag. Tommy flinched each time the material touched his skin.

He continued the process of wiping him down, before once again returning to the bathroom to dampen the flannel and continued again.

As the rustle and crunch of materials finally stilled behind him, Tommy was left lying shaking against the silence, waiting for what he knew Adam would be doing next.

Movement; Tommy flinched. His heart thundered through his ears.

He forced Adam’s hands away, swiftly flicking onto his back and away from Adam.

“Wait- just wait; what are you going to do? How are you gonna--?”

Adam sighed, and laid his hands down carefully on his lap so Tommy could see they were ‘safe’.

“I’m not going to hurt you. As best as I can, I’m going to try not to. But I need to…”

Adam paused, his brow scrunching as he fought to find some coherence in an array of essentially vulgar words. Tommy twisted round onto his back, his breath hitching again as he settled.

“I won’t be stretching you, or opening you up, but I need to feel around… the edges. Just lightly… and it won’t be…”

Adam stopped, closing his eyes. He could feel Tommy’s on him, and he didn’t want to see the horror or confusion he knew must be there. He started talking again, slower this time, all with his eyes shut to the world.

“I need to insert a finger, just a finger, to feel around the edges for any large legions or anything major that doesn’t feel right. I promise I’m not going to stretch you or force you open; I will try and be as gentle as possible, but… it won’t be very comfortable. It’ll only be a finger or two, nothing more, I swear.”

Tommy seemed only marginally comforted. He leaned back, his eyes cloudy and hesitant, and then nodded. As he settled back on his side, Adam swallowed.

Adam reached across the bed and picked up one of the bottles he had dumped here. It looked like a small deodorant or shaving foam, yet the packaging said different. The singer popped the lid, keeping his hands over the bottle so the noise was deadened. It still reverberated around the room.

“Did he use any lube at all?” Adam said quietly. Tommy’s eyes flicked up to his face and immediately back to the bottle, his gaze fixing on it as if it were threatening him. He shook his head.

Adam nodded infinitesimally. He pushed on the pump slowly, and pushed an almond-sized amount of clear jelly onto his fingertips. He rubbed it between his fingers for Tommy to see, his actions slow as to not surprise or rush him.

“Okay, this is going to be cold at first—”

“Yeah, get on with it; I know what lube feels like out of the bottle.” Tommy snapped. Adam didn’t respond; for all of Tommy’s anger, he was shaking. The singer moved back out of Tommy’s sight.

Adam took a breath, shifted his hand on Tommy’s side down to the top of his angular hips, and leaned in with his fingers to begin his work. Tried to clear his mind, and just think like he was doing a quick check with one of his past lovers. Like there was nothing at all wrong with what he was about to do.

Tommy’s hole quivered as Adam made contact with a blunt index finger. Adam heard his breath hitch, and his backside went into a series of spasms, clenching and releasing and clenching even tighter. Adam rested his lubed hand down on the bed and waited patiently for Tommy to calm.

“Just relax—”

“I KNOW WHAT TO DO!”

Adam bit back a comment, and just waited with his fingers on the rim of Tommy’s body. Slowly, ever so slowly, every second berating himself as a monster, he slid the digit up into Tommy’s hole. The blond’s breath hitched, then started to pant.

“Steady,” Adam muttered. Tommy pressed his face into the pillow. Adam kept feeling round the abused flesh, its tentative condition more and more evident.

After another second, Adam withdrew his finger and lightly rubbed Tommy’s hip in reassurance. Unseen, the singer bit his lip and swore soundlessly in frustration, fighting with himself in hate before wiping his finger clean on the edge of the towel wedged behind Tommy’s back. He could feel the sting emanating from the flesh; the slight shifting movement as it tried to evade his touch.

“I don’t think… I… You’re sore, and I don’t think I can get a feel if anything obviously wrong- I don’t think there is, but I want to try something else. You’re… too sore, and I just need to check before I’m hap—before I’m done.”

Tommy grunted into the pillow. Adam looked helplessly at the corner of the room.

“I’m just going to fill up some water.” He whispered. Slid off the bed and picked up the plastic mug and flannel and headed again into the en-suite again. Returned with the flannel near-dripping and set the mug full on the floor beside the bed.

Another warning hand on Tommy’s hip and then Adam wiped him down again. Dumped the flannel on the ground. Placed his hand back on the bassist’s hip again.

“I’m going to, er… examine you… internally again, and—“

“Just fucking say what you mean, for fuck’s sake! You’re gonna stick your fingers into me again! See, hell of a lot easier, isn’t it?”

Adam swallowed, and leaned in over Tommy’s ear.

“No. It isn’t.”

He lent back. Tommy was still and silent, immobilised on the bed with pain and fear.

“I’m going to try something else. Use a different type of lube which should make it feel… easier. It’s a desensitizer, which should numb things. It’ll last a while too, so even after I’m… done…” Adam sighed. “It should help.”

Tommy stayed locked in position facing away from him, yet Adam saw the slight inclination of his head in agreement.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t… be. Don’t be.”

~*~

Tommy shifted again, twisting his hips, and then stopped dead, his face reddening in embarrassment or frustration. He started to move; fight, push himself off from the sheets but fell back into them when pain ripped through him.

“Tommy? Are you…”

The blond ignored him, crawling forward on his elbows towards the edge of the bed, his face furtively turned away, burning red with effort and creased in desperation.

“Tommy, no, no; stop! Please, what is it? I can do the… next bit, later, it doesn’t need to be right now! It doesn’t need to be now, please stop! I’m not going to hurt you.”

Tommy shook his head, still refusing to look at him.

“No, it’s not… I need to piss, okay? I need to fucking—”

Adam stilled, his arms freezing on Tommy’s shoulders. Heat begin to flush behind his neck. The blond turned towards him finally, face enraged.

“So fucking let me—”

“No, You can’t go anywhere—”

“I NEED TO FUCKING PISS, DAMN IT! UNLESS YOU WANT A YELLOW SHOWER, MOVE OUT OF MY WAY!”

Adam completely froze, going rock solid and beet red. Tommy stilled too, their eyes locked together, watching his friend silently squirm. Adam joltily took a step back, his face hysterically paralysed in shared desperation- had of course the reason for Tommy’s immobility not been so dire. He stood in the centre of the room for a few moments, jerkily darting in one direction and freezing again almost immediately; a funny little red-faced dance which would have had the entire Glamily rolling on the floor in stitches had they been sitting in the tour-busses and he waiting for tiny restroom to become vacant. Or had things been only just as simple as an engaged toilet.

Adam eventually took his own finger out of his ass and dashed back to his holdall, rummaging for a second, and then producing…

…a near empty plastic water bottle. With a flourish.

Tommy’s eyes went wide, and then started shaking his head slowly. Adam unscrewed the top, and let the last trickle of water sprinkle across the floor. There was a little more than he expected; Adam gave the sodden patch an unsteady raised eyebrow as he stepped over it and returned to the bed.

Tommy gave Adam another shake, his eyes bulging slightly.

“No…”

Adam swallowed, offered an embarrassed apologetic smile.

“It’s this… or the carpet. And it doesn’t seem to take its drink too well.”

The fight left him as Tommy’s face shattered like glass. The blond looked listlessly at the empty bottle in Adam’s hand, his hips shifting minutely in desperation. He closed his eyes and let out a thin moan.

Adam coughed, bottle in hand.

“Erm… shall I…?”

Tommy blanched.

“I can hold my own bloody junk, thank you…”

Adam coughed, whimpering a quiet ‘yeah, right, okay.’ Tommy’s hand crept down to take hold of himself; Adam felt his insides go a little heavy as he brought the narrow necked bottle up to the head of Tommy’s soft flesh. Tommy’s other hand came up above Adam’s to steady the narrow opening. After a moment, the tale-tell trickle then rushing gush of water sounded Tommy’s bladder emptying. Adam wanted to look away, give Tommy some semblance of privacy, but he was forced to watch and steady as Tommy oh-so-carefully filled the bottle he held.

After what seemed like minutes, Adam painstakingly watching the yellow level steadily increase with his heart in his mouth that one bottle would not be enough, the stream finally slowed and then trickled to a stop. Tommy dripped himself off, before simultaneously letting go of the container and himself. Adam pulled away holding the bottle between two fingers and thumb, almost staring at it in trepidation, before blindly scrambling for the lid and carefully screwing it on. He placed the now pale yellow bottle on the floor and then automatically fled to the en-suite once more.

When he returned, Tommy was lying back against the covers in the same position he had been when he’d let the bottle go, his eyes half closed in brief relief. As Adam sat down behind him, those chocolate eyes opened again, and locked with Adam’s own. Tommy sighed longly. He tilted his head; a nod. Adam breathed for several minutes, clean hand buried in his hair.

~*~

Adam leaned back and grabbed the second, smaller bottle lying on the edge of the bed. He brought it up close to his eye, giving another careful look over the dates (he hadn’t needed to use a desensitizer for quite a while. He tended to shy away from them- anal pain generally happened for a reason, but sometimes having something to deaden bad sensation was necessary, especially with the constraints of a hectic tour schedule. No matter how vanilla he was.) Something else caught his eye on the packaging- a warning note, in thick bold print under the ingredients. Something which gave Adam the coldest sense of benign satisfaction.

THIS LUBRICANT DOES NOT CONTAIN ANY SPERMICIDE. IT IS NOT A CONTRACEPTIVE; PLEASE USE ADDITIONAL MEANS OF PROTECTION.

Adam popped the lid, another crack splitting the air and he squeezed out a pea-sized gelatine blob onto the tips of his fingers. And then decided to top it up three or four times that amount. He rolled it through his fingers again, the texture just slightly different to the straight anal lube.

“Okay… I’m ready.” Adam announced. “It should be easier than before.”

Tommy’s back flexed just slightly.

Adam hesitated another moment, then whispered another ‘okay’ as he brought his fingers once again up to Tommy’s entrance. Another involuntary flinch, and Adam began slowly ringing his finger around the sore rim. After several seconds, Tommy relaxed, and Adam began smearing the light anaesthetic around the inner binding of muscle.

After a couple of minutes, Adam withdrew his finger. He’d only gotten in to his second knuckle, but Tommy sighed at the brief break. The singer wiped his fingers on the towel again; he needed to refresh the desensitising lube, but he’d let Tommy rest for a moment.

“How’s it feeling now?” Adam murmured.

Tommy gave a sort of gurgle, before letting one leg slide down slightly into a more comfortable position. After a moment, he spoke.

“It feels… better? Or— Not quite right. No. Weird. The… end is deadened, but it’s still aching further up. Like it’s just… fuck, like someone’s taken a knife to the inside of me, but just skipped the end. Like where the handle… It just feels… fuck, it feels number, but I still don’t fucking like it.”

Adam nodded. Swallowed.

“It’s working, though, that’s... When I’m done, it should feel all a lot easier. I need to… Well, I need to do it again; put some more of it higher up, into you, but it should deaden most of that ache. I can’t… I won’t be able to reach everything, though. And I’m not gonna put anything other than my fingers into you.”

Tommy didn’t say anything. He just lay on his side, one leg slightly higher than the other, his torso twisted so his shoulder-blades brushed against the towelling mattress. He breathed, groaned, and slowly rocked back onto his side, drawing his knees back up into position.

“No rush,” Adam whispered. Tommy emitted a moan in reply, and something sounding akin to a cuss. Adam slicked his fingers again, and once again, entered Tommy’s body.

*~*~*