Warmth and a strong, soft body pressed close to his are the first things Adam registers as he stirs to consciousness. Next he somewhat becomes aware of fingers, maybe even a full hand, he’s not quite sure at this point, drawing random patterns between his shoulder blades all the way to up to short hairs at the nape of his neck and back down. He sighs in contentment.
When the hand pulls away, he whines at the loss, his body too sluggish to reach out and catch the leaving limp.
The hand returns, brushes what feels like a stray strand of hair off of his forehead before going back to the drawing board that is his upper back. “Go back to sleep, boo."
He mumbles in response and does as he’s told, effortlessly drifting back to sleep.
The next time Adam comes to life there's definitely sound, a low distant rumbling, and movements that for a split second make him wonder if he fell asleep on a bouncing castle. It’s not until he fully opens his eyes everything makes sense; he’s curled around Tommy’s smaller body, his head resting on his lover’s stomach and judging how he’s been bounced up and down Tommy’s cracking himself up.
"Jeez," Tommy snickers quietly to himself.
“Why you laughing?” Adam inquires his voice rough with sleep, shifting a little so he can face his man.
Tommy lowers his iPad, turning his full attention to the wakening man. “Morning sleepyhead,” he says thumb caressing the soft lines the cover left on his cheek, smiling fondly at the way Adam’s eyes flutter close and pushes into his touch. Adam always needs a couple of minutes in the morning to get his brain online and Tommy is determent to make the most of those couple of minutes. Seeing his man like this; in all his natural and naked glory, not a hint of whatever product on his skin, completely relaxed more often than not with his hair standing up at the back of his head - just like it is doing right now - still takes Tommy’s breath away. Adam may have lost the glitter and the fifteen layers of make-up to the outside world Tommy knows there’s still make-up on his face whenever he’s out in public. Not much, but still, mixing foundation in your moisturizer and applying a light coat of mascara still means there’s make-up on your face.
Today’s the first day in just over a month Tommy isn’t deprived of this. Adam’s been in Europe and New York promoting his new single Ghost Town and celebrating the release of his new album - The Original High - with a couple of short gigs for iHeartRadio and Good Morning America to name but a few.
By the time Adam asks him again what it was that had him laughing a whole fifteen minutes have passed leaving Tommy’s heart warm and full. “Am discovering the most ridiculous sexual phrases from romance novels.”
Adam rolls off of Tommy, grabbing his pillow as he stretches his long body out along Tommy’s side, an arm coming to rest over his stomach. “Huh?
“Mike posted a link on Facebook about romance novels having a language and style on their own when it comes to sex scenes,” he explains picking up his iPad. “It says and I quote ‘what do you say when you don't want to mutter penis or vagina?’ and that, I quote again, ‘romance novels are the proper, eloquent statesman to pornography's grunting caveman.’ I thought the alternatives for a fat cock were bad, wait till see what they’ve come up with for a girl’s pussy. Seriously,” Tommy muses aloud, “who the fuck comes up with this shit and better yet, who in their right mind reads that crap?”
“I’ve read some erotic fiction before,” Adam admits in between stifled yawns. “Even had to stop halfway a chapter and jerk off once. It was that good.”
Tommy looks down at Adam, ‘bitch please’ written all over his face. “So you’re telling me you could read a book where a man’s dick is being referred to as his plenipotentiary instrument for one or as his maleness or better yet,” he scroll down the page to find what he was looking for, “his sinewy length?”
Adam’s eyebrows hitch up in delight. “Plenipotentiary instrument?” he repeats patting Tommy’s resting manhood as he seems to try and get a feel for it. “I actually like it,” he says cheerfully. “Read me the other ones.”
Tommy rolls his eyes affectionately. “I actually like that one,” Tommy mimics good-heartedly. “I actually like that one, my ass! Remind me again why I love you and for the love of God,” Tommy faux complains, playfully batting Adam’s hand away, “stop touching my goddamn instrument.”
“Because your plenipotentiary instrument,” Adam replies in a there I said it again tone, going back to patting and palming his lover’s cock, “brings out the best in mine and vice versa. They’re capable of great things-.”
“Now hold it right there, buddy!” Tommy interrupts for no other reason than protecting his dick’s reputation. “Don’t ever refer to my dick as a plenipowhateverthefuck instrument!”
“Oh come on, babe,” Adam presses on, slowly sliding down Tommy’s chest, taking great pleasure in watching Tommy’s cock starting to come alive under his ministrations. “With the right words it could actually sound pretty neat. A little out of the ordinary, I’ll give you that. Nonetheless…”
“Forget it, Adam. Not even you could make those words sound hot.”
“Is that so?" Adam questions and Tommy knows he's fucked regardless of what he says next. Adam's got his wanna-bet-game-face on and Tommy's a sucker for any and all dares involving Adam. "I dare you to write me a love letter, oh my badass prince" Adam whispers against the skin of Tommy’s groin, "using as many of these phrases as you can.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. “What’s in it for me?”
“A do whatever you want with me card for each one you use,” he says casually making Tommy feel stupid for even thinking Adam wouldn’t kill two birds in one stone. Tommy’s dick involuntary twitches at Adam’s incentive, his way of saying I’m not ever getting hard again if you fuck this up.
“You’re ridiculous,” Tommy says fondly. “Also, I accept the challenge.” A kiss seals the deal.
Just like that Tommy goes back to reading every description out loud. In the end Adam’s adamant his choice is the best alternative for the male genital organ. He does concede some do sound dick-deflating instead of dick-inflating.
When it comes to the alternatives for the female counterpart both men burst out laughing on more than one occasion. Tommy loses it over ‘most treasured pearl of passion’. Adam cracks up over ‘glistening portals of her womanhood’.
Weeks pass and Tommy curses the much despised draft sitting in his mailbox containing every single alternative from that wretched list. It’s fucking depressing. Adam on the other hand, being a smug little shit and all, regularly drops a non-too subtle hint about Tommy’s missing ode to his plenipotentiary instrument, making him wonder why he’s still dating this lunatic.
It's not like it's just sitting there, gathering dust so to speak or waiting for Tommy's phone to magically bug or something. Tommy does look at it, quite often in fact; when he's stuck in traffic for instance or when he's queuing at the grocery store or when his insomnia is being a bitch again. He glares at it, out loud insults it when no one’s around as if the list personally offended him.
The sad point is, no matter how hard he wants to blow Adam’s mind with an epic love letter, his brain flat out refuses to cooperate. Every single attempt fails miserably.
Tommy seriously considers call it quits.
They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. It’s true. Inspiration hits him hard when Adam's halfway through his six week promo tour across Asia. Being away from each other is hard on any given time. It's even harder when there's a sixteen hour difference between them, Adam being sixteen hours ahead of him.
These last three weeks, between Adam’s busy schedule and Tommy’s work at the recording studio, on top of the time difference their relation has been reduced to texting and emailing back and forth, often with huge gasps in between answers and far too few, and too short, FaceTime calls.
Overcome with nostalgia, Tommy’s love letter to Adam sees the light of day.
I know, or at least I'm hoping, you’re still sound asleep as I’m writing this. You’re right, something’s been bothering me these last couple of days. 'S nothing major though. It’s just that I miss you so freaking much.
Ever since we FaceTimed a couple of hours ago I can't shake this feeling, this all-consuming need to be close to you. I can’t remember being apart ever felt this bad. I even started wearing one your old t-shirts around the house. It’s stupid, and cliché as fuck, and I don’t care if it makes me the chick of the house… I feel better wearing them.
I miss hearing you hum around the house. I miss teasing you at breakfast. I miss bickering over what we’re going to have for lunch or dinner. Can you believe I even miss your smelly socks when you come back from a run?
Don’t think I’m saying this to make you feel bad, cause I promise you it’s not, but the fact is I’m hopelessly lost without you, baby. I’d give anything to feel your arms around me right now.
Unsurprisingly it’s the nights that are the worst. Our bed simply feels too big, too empty without you in it. Sleeping on your side kinda helps, if only for a short while, because my stupid mind always catches up and then, then I can’t do anything else than torture myself by looking at every goddamn pic I have of you, of us, on my phone.
I never thought there’d come a day when I’d say this but I miss you octupussing the fuck out of me when we sleep. I miss turning in the middle of the night and getting pulled into your arms. I miss feeling your hardened flesh pressing against my lower back when I wake up. I miss hearing you moan, low and dirty, when I wiggle my ass against your swollen staff. I miss turning around in your arms, claiming your mouth with a hunger, a heat that matches your fiery brand.
Not being able to touch you, not having you near is driving me fucking insane. Like right now for instance, I’m so hard for you, babe, just by thinking about you.
I want you… I want you so fucking bad.
Thing is, I don’t know what I fucking want truth be told. A part of me wants to ride your sword and I want to ride it hard, babe. I want it so bad I'm gonna come all over your chest without having touched my cock.
Another part of me wants you to take me. Right here. Right now. I want you to push me against the first fucking surface, push my legs apart, growl out my name and push that spear of yours straight in.
Another part of me wants neither, that part wants you spread out on the living room table while I rim you. I love how hard it makes you when I eat you out. How that gorgeous swelling in your loins swells and grows even more, how Bulgie turns into an actual pulsing core when I finally reach out and stroke him.
Shit, babe. I wish, I wish you were here cause I’m dying to touch your warm molten member. I’m dying for you to touch me. Fuck… I don’t think I can control myself much longer.
See? See what just thinking about you does to me? See how hard I am? Can you see how much I’m leaking already? I can fucking smell my own precum, that’s how much there is already. And sweet fuck, if I do say so myself, it smells so fucking good. If you’d been here, I know for a fact your face would be buried in my groin right now sniffing and licking my cock, teasing yourself as much as you would tease me. And then, then your hand would come to rest at the base, and you’d start sucking me in earnest. First at the head, cause you know how much I love it when you suck just the head. You know what it does to me when you look up at me when you suck just the head… You look so fucking amazing sucking my cock, baby. And I know why you always pull off, too. Why you always jack me a couple of times… It’s because you love watching how I fall apart from seeing you on your knees for me. You love watching how new drops come oozing out, you love lapping up drop after drop while you’re pumping your hard male heat.
I love, l really fucking love watching your touching yourself when you’re blowing me. Then again, I fucking love everything we do together. Every fucking single thing turns me on, babe. Every single thing makes me hard. Every. Fucking. Single. Thing.
You know what I just realized? My precum, it doesn’t smell like yours. Not by a long shot. That delicious nectar that leaks from your love sweet arrow smells sweeter than mine. It tastes sweeter, too.
Fuck, Ad… I fucking ache for your virile masculinity, for that rigid source of heat of yours that takes me apart in the best way possible… I’m so freaking horny, so fucking sensitive.
Call me as soon as you read this message. Please. Please, babe... I don’t care what time it is… I need to hear your voice. I need you to hear how I come apart when I’m fucking my fist. I need you to tell me all the things you want to do to me. Need you to tell me all the things you want me to do to your iron-hard tumescence.
I need you to tell me your fullness is mine and mine alone. I need you to tell me I’m the only one your engorged flesh longs for. Need to hear you need me as much as I need you right now.
I want you to show me how your torrid extension longs for me. How he longs for my mouth, for my ass, for my hands. I need to know how he longs for me and only me.
I want to see him. I need to that rigid part of yours. I need to see you, all of you.
I wanna feel that hard pulse of your arousal pulsing inside me when you climax. Fuck babe.
Upon going over his letter Tommy quickly realizes it’s not only poorly written, his so called love letter turned into a fucking porn script. It’s embarrassing. There’s no other word for it. They’ve written each other silly, embarrassing things before, they sext on a regular basis yet somehow this tops it all. And not in a good way.
It’s also what Tommy feels deep down. It represents everything he wants to say to Adam.
Before he can talk himself out of it he writes a few last words, It’s crap. I know. I hereby forfeit your dare. Love you, baby. Can’t wait for you to come home though, and presses send.
A couple of hours have passed since Tommy send out his crappy letter. He’s currently sitting on the floor of their music room trying - and very much succeeding - to write down a somber base line of a new song he’s been working on when his phone starts vibrating next to him. Adam’s contact picture appears on his screen.
He’s not at all prepared for what comes through the receiver.
Adam moans his name obscenely again and again and Tommy knows that debauched tone of voice, knows the face that goes with it, too. It’s the one he’s hears and sees when Adam’s riding him slow and deep, when he’s dangerously close to coming and begs for his lover’s touch. “You- You said to call as soon as-“ Another broken moan escapes his lips doing all sorts of wonderful things to the blood circulation of the man on the other side of the world. Tommy can’t do much else than lick his lips and swallow, with difficulty. “Please, baby, I don’t wanna come alone,” Adam begs, and there’s a raw edge to his voice Tommy hasn’t heard before.
“Fuck. My bass. Gimme- Hold on,” Tommy says not giving a flying fuck what the raw want does to his voice, carefully unplugging his bass and placing in its rack.
“Tommy,” Adam sobs his name over and over transforming his name into a plea as much as a prayer.
“I’m here,” Tommy whispers, cursing and kicking off his shoes as he walks over to the comfortable black leather couch Adam insisted would be perfect. Unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans are done in record time and just as well, his fully erect cock joyfully springs free from its confinement. It’s been years, almost all the way back to his teenage years, since he went from flaccid to full mast and leaking in just under twenty seconds flat. “Talk to me, babe.”
Shit, Tommy thinks knowing this party is going to be over before it properly started.
“Be loud,” Adam pleads in between strokes. “I need to hear you… I’m looking at your pic… Sweet fuck baby, I almost forgot how beautiful your cock is.” Tommy does not preen over this. “I wanna taste you,” Adam whimpers, “wanna taste you so bad.”
Lust and passion aren’t the only emotions Tommy can hear in Adam’s voice. There’s also loneliness and love and heartache over being away from the man he loves and fuck if he doesn’t feel the exact same thing. The words are right there, on the tip of his tongue. I love you. I love you so fucking much. He swallows them back, at least for the moment, thinking how saying them now will ruin the mood. Right now, they’re saying it in another, and by no means less meaningful, way.
“I know,” Tommy admits sadly, looking down at his leaking, flushed manhood, quickly letting go in favour of kicking off his pants and underwear and putting the call on speaker now that he’s still lucid enough to think about these minor details. “Fuck, baby, there’s so much for you to taste already,” Tommy says, webbing his precum between his fingers. “I’m so fucking wet, it’s ridiculous.”
“You’re always wet,” Adam pants into the phone, followed by a long blissful moan.
Hungry licking sounds are coming from the other side as Tommy’s about to lick his own precum off from his fingers make him moan in appreciation. “You’re licking off your own fingers aren’t you?”
The growl he gets in reply tells Tommy all he needs to know. It affects him that much he has to stroke his cock a few times. “I know how much you love my cock juice,” Tommy smiles. “Pretend it’s me, babe. Pretend it’s my cock you’re feasting off,” he coos, closing his eyes to picture Adam in front of him. “There’s more where it came from,” he pants, offering his hard-on to an invisible lover for him to suck on.
“I- I wanna- I wanna come like this. I wanna blow my load while I’m worshiping your cock,” Adam groans between licking another drop of precum from his fingers. “And then, then I want you to push me around and… oh fuck... use me. I want you to fi- finger me and fuck me anyway you want until… until I get hard again,” Adam grunts loudly, adjusting his grip a bit as he feels his balls tightening. Then, his voice low and urgent, “And then, I want you to ride me. You’re going to use me until I see you fall apart on my cock, babe.”
Tommy can’t take it anymore. “Shit. Fuck. Stop- stop!” he croaks, shuddering as he tugs on his tightening balls to hold his impending orgasm at bay. “Not yet. You gotta come first. Please,” he begs, nearly going out of his mind with want. “Please. Please, babe, I need your to come first.”
Adam’s moans grow louder, more primal. “Almost… Can we- Together… Tell me I can-”
“My cock is yours, babe,” Tommy all but purrs, spreading his legs even wider, jacking his cock ever so slowly. “You’re going to suck on my cock,” Tommy breathes, “tongue my balls and open me up with your tongue for as long as you want. You’re going to pin me down and swallow every drop that comes flowing out of my cock.”
There are no words coming from Adam’s side. Only sounds. There’s the rustling of what sounds like fabric followed by a frustrated grunt and then the much clearer sound of skin on skin. Tommy briefly wonders what took him so long to go to speaker mode, too.
“Can’t hold…” Animalistic groans and moans rise from deep within Adam’s chest, a sign he’s struggling to hold back. “Gonna… Shit!” Tommy can hear a chocked off moan before Adam screams out his name amongst other things as his balls empty themselves, probably all over his chest, maybe even onto his collarbone.
Adam’s still breathing heavily when he speaks next. “Come on, baby. Let me hear you.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. At this point Tommy’s beyond the point of making coherent sentences, almost unable to think anything beyond his need to come and he’s so damn close. A couple of firm strokes is all it takes before Tommy cries out his release.
Tommy’s still coming down from his orgasm when he hears Adam swearing and laughing on the other end. “What’s so funny?”
“I kinda jizzed all over my fucking bedside lamp,” Adam admits.
“So clean it up.”
“It’s a freaking mini crystal chandelier! My goddamn sperm is dripping from a mini chandelier.”
Tommy laughs out loud at Adam’s description. “That’s definitely a first. I so need a picture of that.”
“I hate you.”
“I hate you, too.”
Both men fall silent, both trying to clean up the mess they made. “I know we already talked about this,” Adam starts shyly knowing all too well Tommy hates flying, is actually afraid of flying, “but, if you had the time, would you be willing to take a plane and come and stay with me a couple of days?”
“I’d fucking swim to Japan if I have to.”
There’s a phone ringing on Adam’s side, stopping him mid first word and Tommy can hear him say “Hello… I’m up, thank you… No, I’ll get down myself… Thirty minutes… Yes. Yes, that’s fine, thank you… Bye.” He knows their call will end soon, as in like the next thirty seconds soon. Adam’s on a tight schedule. “I gotta get ready, baby” he says bashfully.
“I know,” Tommy says thickly and fuck if his eyes aren’t starting to burn. “Go and woo them damn Japs.”
Adam snorts into the phone. “I will. I’ll text you when I’m ready. Ok?”
“I love you, baby.”
“I love you, too, rockstar.”
Tommy doesn’t get off the couch right away, instead he calls and calls and calls some more people, pulls every string he can think of and it pays off: he managed to clear his schedule for 5 whole days.
When Tommy’s plane lands and he shuts off the airplane mode on his phone a couple of messages come in; the usual roaming info texts and two from Adam. The first one is a picture of Adam’s fully erect leaking dick. The second one has him blushing and laughing out loud in the middle of a Japanese jet bridge. “As you can see, my plenipotentiary instrument has reached its full potential.”