leela_cat: Tommy Joe Ratliff w/red hair (Tommy - Red Hair Kimmel)
leela_cat ([personal profile] leela_cat) wrote in [community profile] glam_100 on October 27th, 2013 at 10:59 am
Prompt #105: Riding
Title: Riding Lessons
Author: Leela ([personal profile] leela_cat)
Pairing/Characters: Adam/Tommy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 13x100
Content/Warning(s): None
Author's notes: Written for [community profile] glam_100, prompt #105: Riding. Many thanks to @aislinntlc for the preread.

Leather reins are wrapped loosely around large, strong hands. Leg and ass muscles bunch and flex in time to the thud, thud, thud.

Tommy can't look away, can't stop tapping out the rhythm against the rail. This show of grace and power is more of a turn-on than he thought it would be. He's not sure how he feels about that.

A hand touches the rail next to his, and Tommy turns just in time to have a folded note thrust at him. He takes it, and the hand disappears in a cloud of cologne and a rustle of silk.


There's only one word scrawled on the paper, but it makes Tommy smile.

He pushes away from the rail, waving off his friends' nosy questions, and follows the scented trail to a velvet curtain. The flick of a crop against leather boots draws his attention to the other side of the rail briefly before he pushes through.

An arm stretches out, barring his way. "No," grunts a dude with more muscles in his pinky finger than Tommy has in his whole body.

Tommy shows the note to him. "This says 'yes'."

The guy drops his arm with visible reluctance. "Behave."


Tommy can't help wondering what counts as behaving when you're backstage at a strip joint, especially given what happens on and in front of the stage.

The thud, thump, thud is louder back here. The smack of leather against flesh echoes around the hallway.

Each of the closed doors has a holder with a piece of paper stuck in it. Some have several lines of names, others only one. The printing is light, fading into unreadable in places, but Tommy carefully deciphers them and compares them to the word on his note.

The door he wants has only one name.


The room behind the door is tiny. There's a counter covered in more makeup, brushes, and other paraphernalia than Tommy has seen in his life, a mirror with a couple of lights out, an armless chair, and a fabric and wood screen with clothes hanging off it.

"Sutan?" A guy asks from behind the screen. "Is that you?"

"Nope," Tommy says.

The screen wobbles dangerously, sending a jacket heading for the floor, and a head pops around it.

All Tommy sees is dark hair, eyeliner, and lips that make him want to fall to his knees.

Then the guy smiles.


"Hi," Tommy chokes out and then adds, "Note." He waves it around.

"Sutan found you." The smile broadens into a predatory grin, and the guy comes out from behind the screen.

He's mostly naked, wearing nothing but a pair of teeny tiny gold underpants. Barefoot, walking toward Tommy, he seems taller and hotter than he did on stage in 4-inch heels.

Tommy's dick perks the fuck up, pressing against his jeans, and he licks his suddenly too dry lips. "I can't afford..."

"No, you can't." His voice is low, almost a purr, as he slots a hand against Tommy's throat.


Tommy swallows, and it feels as if the hand is right up against his junk too.

"I'm Adam," the guy murmurs, "and you're?"


"I saw you, Tommy. You looked like you wanted to crawl onto the stage and take Terrance's place."

The image flashing through him like a bolt of lightning, Tommy tries to save his dignity with a, "Maybe."

"What if I wanted you to?"

Adam bends down and uses his hand to tug Tommy's face up toward his. With one lick into Tommy's mouth, with a filthy kiss that all but curls Tommy's toes, Adam owns him.


Without stopping the kiss or removing his hand from Tommy's throat, Adam backs them up. There's a pause, long enough for Tommy to draw in a deep breath, try to come up with something to say.

Adam sits down in the chair and pulls Tommy into his lap.

"Yes or no?" Adam asks. "Because I need to know now if it's no."

Tommy rolls his hips, more awkwardly than gracefully, and slides a hand on either side of Adam's jaw. "Yes," he says against Adam's mouth. Then sucks Adam's lower lip into his mouth and drags his teeth over it.


There's nothing erotic about getting Tommy's clothes off. He fumbles his belt, and shuffles from side to side as he tries to shove his jeans down. His dick, though, doesn't know any better.

It's too busy responding to the jagged shards of want caused by the heat of Adam's hands against his skin and the possessive grip of Adam's fingers on his hips.

When they're finally off and he settles back down, it's naked ass against naked dick, Adam's slick finger sliding down into Tommy's cleft, and a lightning bolt of need that punches a groan out of Tommy.



Adam chuckles, dark, low and filthy. "That's the plan, baby."

His finger slides in and Tommy rocks back, taking it deeper. Adam pulls out, pushes it just inside, and when Tommy's about ready to give him shit for being such a tease, he adds another lube-slickened finger.

It stretches and burns, and it's fucking perfect, because Tommy's getting lost in the feeling of it. He loops his arms around Adam's shoulders and bites at Adam's lips.

A third finger presses into him, opens him wider.

It's not nearly enough. It just leaves Tommy feeling empty, needy, wanting so much more.


"Fuck me," Tommy says into Adam's mouth, grinding his hips down onto Adam's hand. "Fuck me, goddamn you."

"God, you're so fucking perfect. Ordering me around like that."

Tommy would have bitched him out, but Adam silences him with a kiss. He pushes Tommy's ass up and pulls his hand out.

A few empty, needy seconds later, Adam's dick is pressing against the rim of Tommy's hole. It's another fucking tease, and Tommy more than done with Adam's fooling around. He sits down, Adam's dick sliding into him, hot and big, filling him up, stretching him wider.

And Adam moans.


Tommy eats the sound, swallows it down, as he rolls his hips.

"Please," Adam whispers against Tommy's mouth. "Baby, please."

Rising up until only the head of Adam's dick is inside him, Tommy licks Adam's lips. Then he drops back down again, bottoms out, feels Adam's dick rub over his prostate.

Again and again, up and down, until Tommy's leg muscles are complaining, and he's shaking with the need to have Adam touch his dick.

"No," Adam says. "You're going to come like this."

Adam puts his hands on Tommy's hips, fingers digging in, holding him down, and thrusts up.


The tiny movements, grinding, rubbing, drive Tommy crazy. The heavy weight of Adam's dick inside of him, the drag of the head against Tommy's prostate, force words out of him like "fuck" and "goddamn" and "shit" and even, when he's almost sobbing with the need to come, "love".

"Oh my god," Adam says, each word a panting heave of air, "yes. Love, so much."

"You," Tommy manages.

Adam's fingers tighten on Tommy's hips. He pushes up into Tommy, holds them together, growls his name.

It's so fucking hot. Tommy's head falls back, his body arches and clenches, and he comes.


Afterwards, Tommy curls into Adam, even though the chair is hell on his knees.

Adam's hand is comforting on Tommy's back. The fingers of Adam's other hand trace the stretched rim of Tommy's hole, touching the slick-wet place where they're joined.

"Jesus," Tommy mutters. "You weren't fucking kidding when you said this would be hot as Hades."

One of Adam's fingers pushes into him, next to Adam's soft dick. The squelching sound makes Tommy shiver and move to give Adam access.

Later, Tommy thinks. Later they can clean up, get dressed, and head home. But now, this is fucking awesome.

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