Title: Welcome To My World Of Truth
Author: PsychoGlambertLIVE
Rating: MA18+
Summary: When the pain of not being able to call Adam his own becomes too much to bear, Tommy revisits a part of his past in an effort to cope with the hurt. Overcome with his emotions, he seeks comfort in a friend's arms to try to forget about what, or who, he will never have.
Warning: Some of the sexual practices depicted in this work of fiction may inappropriate to some readers. Viewer discretion is advised.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission. The author intends no offense to anyone. The events appearing in the following text are products entirely of the author's imagination and are not meant to be in any way taken as having actually happened. The author owns none of the characters.
Tommy scrolls through the pictures on his iPhone, sighing every time he comes across a photo with Adam in it. He tosses his phone down, disgusted with himself and with the world in general. Crossing his arms, he stares moodily at the TV, which is flickering an eerie blue light in the darkened room. He watches as Michael Myers stalks the stupid, over-sexed, teenaged girls-they never knew what was coming.
Sighing again, Tommy turns the movie off, the room falling into complete darkness without the light of the TV. He lays back on the couch, trying to stop the tears that are welling up in his eyes. Blindly, he reaches for the bottle of whiskey that is on the coffee table in front of him. "Shit!" he swears when his hand knocks the bottle over and he hears glass breaking. Bitchily, he throws his arm over his face, wiping angrily at his burning eyes. Curling up into the fetal position, he lets the tears come. He cries silently, wrapping his fingers in his blonde fringe and pulling roughly. Sometime during the night, he falls asleep, tears still staining his face.
Tommy awakes to a pounding headache and a cramp in his stomach. Sitting up groggily, he stretches his legs out along the length of the couch. His right foot must have fallen asleep last night. He winces as the blood starts flowing back to his foot, making it feel as if he is being poked with a million little needles. Swinging his feet down to the floor once the feeling has come back to his foot, he carefully steps around the broken glass on the hardwood, making his way to the bathroom. One look in the mirror makes him want to throw up right then and there. He looks like shit. Black make-up is smeared all over his tear-stained face and his eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot from drinking and crying. His hair is in equally bad shape. The silky blonde locks are unrecognizable; it looks like an animal has built a nest on his head. He opens the medicine cabinet, grabbing a bottle of Advil and popping two in his mouth. He swallows them without water.
Sinking to the floor in front of the toilet, Tommy struggles to calm his rolling stomach. He leans his burning face against the cool porcelain, concentrating on breathing deeply in an effort to stop himself from vomiting. It seems to work for a minute. Suddenly, a strong wave of nausea rolls over him and he vomits into the toilet. When he is done, he wipes his mouth with a tissue and stands up slowly. Gingerly, he strips off his clothes and steps into the shower. Turning the water on high, he stands there weakly, letting the hot spray wash over his tired, aching body. His thoughts drift to Adam for a moment before he pushes them angrily to the back of his mind. But he cannot stop fresh tears from falling down his face, mingling with the water droplets already on his cheeks.
Fifteen minutes later, Tommy steps out of the shower, feeling a tiny bit better now that he is clean. He runs a brush through his hair, the tangles coming out easily since they are wet. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he walks into his bedroom. He pulls on a pair of black pajama pants, which are decorated with bloody hatchets, and a black, long-sleeved t-shirt. Walking back to the living room, he picks up his striped hoodie, slipping into it and zipping it up. Grabbing a broom from the closet, he sweeps up the broken glass, taking care not to scratch the hardwood floors. As he is wiping the dried alcohol off the coffee table and floor, his iPhone starts playing 'Fever.' He set that song as his new ringtone last night to remind himself of his happier memories with Adam-the days when Adam would always pay attention to him and spend time with him. Now, Adam is with Sauli, and, all of a sudden, he does not have any time to spend with Tommy. Bullshit.
A glance at the caller I.D. and Tommy considers letting the call go to voice mail. Deciding against it, he answers somewhat bitchily, "Yeah?"
"Tommy?" Adam asks. "Is there something wrong?"
"No," Tommy says shortly, tossing the cleaning supplies back in the closet.
"Okay," Adam replies, not sounding convinced. "Rehearsal is at noon. Do you want a ride?"
Tommy purses his lips, not believing Adam is asking him if he wants a ride. "Isn't the Finn going with you?" he grinds out, refusing to even speak Sauli's name.
"Sauli is in Finland."
Tommy holds up a hand to examine his chipped black polish. "Oh."
"So... Do you want a ride or not?" Adam repeats.
"Fine," Tommy reluctantly agrees, knowing he is just setting himself up for more pain.
"I'll pick you up at 11:30. We can pick up some coffee on the way there," Adam says.
"Yeah." Tommy ends the call without saying goodbye. He throws the phone down on the couch, glancing one last time at the LCD display. He has an hour before Adam comes to pick him up.
He gets up with a sigh, walking to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. He mixes a shot of whiskey into the black liquid. Taking his drink to the bathroom, he glances in the mirror. At least the redness in his eyes has gone down a little. He still feels like bursting into tears at any minute, though.
"Get a hold of yourself," Tommy tells his reflection, immediately feeling incredibly stupid for talking to himself. Shaking his head, he begins applying his make-up. He tries covering up the dark circles under his eyes, but to no avail; he can still see them. Hopefully, no one else will notice. He heavily lines his eyes with black eyeliner, effectively hiding most of the redness. He wipes several coats of mascara through his lashes. Not able to get Adam out of his head, he collapses on the floor, overcome with grief. Adam will never be his. He had his chance in the beginning. If he had not told Adam he was straight, things would be completely different. Tommy would be dating Adam, not Sauli.
Tommy can feel the tears starting to well up in his eyes once more. He squeezes his lids shut, not wanting to ruin his make-up. He feels so awful, he is not sure if he can even go to rehearsal this afternoon. Adam is sure to notice something is wrong. He could already tell over the phone.
Tommy balls his hands into fists, digging his fingernails into his palms. If he hurts himself, it might make him forget about the pain of not having Adam. Reaching into the pocket of his hoodie, he pulls out his Swiss Army knife. Using his thumbnail, he pries the blade out. Pushing the sleeves of his sweater up his arms, he looks at his wrists. He does not want to cut into his tattoos. That was why he got the tattoos in the first place-to hide the scars from where he had cut himself when he was younger.
Holding the knife in his left hand, Tommy presses the blade into the skin of his right wrist. He draws the point of the blade along the edge of his Metallica tattoo, tracing a faint, old scar. Wanting to feel pain, he presses the blade into his skin hard, dragging it quickly down the length of his wrist. Gasping at the sharp pain, he watches as bright, red blood starts to well up in the two-inch slit. After all these years of not cutting himself, he remembers with vivid clarity how he would lock himself in the bathroom, or his bedroom, carving deep cuts into his wrists until he could not think, only feel pain. He presses the blade into his skin again and again, cutting himself until the knife is covered in his blood. He manages to avoid cutting into the tattoo, but you would not be able to tell anyway because the blood from the cuts has smeared across the black design.
Tommy switches the blade into his right hand. He can hardly grip the knife, his wrist hurts so much. He presses the tip of the blade to his tattooed skin. He pauses for a moment, considering what would happen to his tattoo if it was slit. He can always go get more black inked in when the cuts heal. He plunges the the tip of the blade into his skin, dragging it down. Blood fills the gash immediately. He slits his wrist again, wincing when his tears fall into the open wounds. He did not even realize he was crying. He bites his bottom lip hard, tasting blood. The salt in his tears make the cuts feel even worse.
His wrists stinging painfully, Tommy holds them under the faucet, running cold water over the wounds to stop the bleeding. He watches without emotion as the bloody water runs down the drain. The cuts refuse to stop bleeding. As the force of the water hits his wrists, blood spatters across the sink, little droplets splashing onto the front of his hoodie. Finally, the bleeding slows down, and he dries his wrists with a tissue, so he does not get blood on his hand towel. He wipes the blade off with another tissue, the blood leaving a slight residue on the stainless steel. He will take care of that later. Right now, he has to get ready before Adam shows up. He does not want Adam coming in here.
He hurries to his bedroom, changing out of his blood stained pajama pants and into a pair of skin-tight, black skinny jeans. He switches his striped hoodie for a different one when he notices the blood on the cuffs, as well as on the front. He gently pulls his sleeves over his wrists, hiding the mutilations. Grabbing his guitar, he goes to wait in the living room.
No sooner than he has sat down, his iPhone rings. Picking it up, he answers, "Hello?"
"I'm, like, five minutes away from your house." Adam sounds distracted; more than likely he has a million different things running through his head about the upcoming tour. "Are you ready?"
"Yeah. I'm waiting." Tommy wishes he would have just taken his own car. He does not think riding with Adam is going to be good for his mentality right now. He will have to get someone else to give him a ride back home.
"'Kay," Adam says. "See you in a minute."
Tommy tucks the phone into his back pocket, wincing in pain when he accidently rubs his mutilated wrist across the waistband of his jeans. Slipping into his leather jacket, he steps outside, locking the door behind him.
Adam's shiny silver BMW pulls into Tommy's driveway a few minutes later. Tommy opens the passenger door, wrestling his guitar into the backseat. He shuts the door, buckling himself in before finally looking over at Adam. He is just as sexy as he always is. Adam is dressed head-to-toe in complete black. Dark sunglasses hide his beautiful grey eyes. "Hey," Tommy says.
Adam grins, showing his perfect, pearly white teeth. "Hey, yourself," he teases. Reaching over, he gives Tommy a friendly hug.
Tommy hugs him back, gritting his teeth when his wrists rub against Adam's back.
Pulling back, Adam shifts the car into gear, backing out of the driveway. Tommy watches in silence as his neighborhood goes by, and then they are on the highway. Adam flicks his turn signal on, turning into Starbucks. He takes the car through the drive-thru, ordering iced coffees for himself and Tommy. Back on the highway, Adam looks over at Tommy, asking, "Why so quiet?"
Tommy shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. "No reason. Tired, I guess."
Adam nods. They do not say anything else until they arrive at the studio where the rehearsal is being held. "C'mon, Kitty," Adam says, slinging an arm casually over Tommy's shoulders when they are out of the car.
Tommy cuddles into Adam's shoulder, not able to stop himself from basking in those rare moments where he can pretend Adam is his. He knows he is just setting himself up for more disappointment later, but he loves feeling Adam next to him.
When they get in the studio, they are greeted by Ashley, Brian, and Isaac. They all exchange hellos.
As Tommy is getting his guitar out, Isaac comes up to him, holding out his arms. "Do I get a hug?" he asks Tommy teasingly.
Tommy sticks his tongue out at him, standing up anyway and giving him a tight hug. Over Isaac's shoulder, he notices Adam gazing at them with a strange expression on his face. When he sees Tommy staring at him, Adam quickly looks away. What was that about? Tommy wonders.
"Okay, guys!" Adam says loudly, clapping his hands twice. "Let's get started. Marc isn't going to be here today, so it's just us." Adam takes his place in front of the microphone, tucking his in-ear monitors into his ears.
Tommy plugs his guitar in, clipping the wireless pack to the strap. Strumming a few bars, he motions to the sound guy to adjust the volume.
Once they are all set, they begin playing 'Trespassing.' They go through the set list for the tour, stopping every once in a while to correct something that Adam does not like. As the last notes to 'Cuckoo' fade away, Adam calls out, "I think we're done, guys. Nice work."
Tommy hurriedly slips his guitar strap off his head, placing the Fender in its case. He is so preoccupied with putting his guitar away, he does not notice Adam come up behind him.
"You want to grab lunch with me?" Adam asks, startling Tommy.
"Uh..." Tommy trails off. Spotting Isaac walking up to them, he says loud enough so the drummer can hear, "I was actually going to get a ride home with Isaac. If he doesn't mind, that is."
Isaac nods. "Sure," he agrees.
Working his jaw back and forth in annoyance, Adam forces a smile. "Okay. I guess I'll talk to you later, then, Tommy."
"Yeah," Tommy replies. To Isaac, he says, "Just let me run to the bathroom a minute."
Swinging open the door to the men's bathroom, Tommy leans against one of the sinks, trying to sort out his thoughts. Why was Adam so pissed about me getting a ride home with Isaac? And what was that look about when he saw me and Isaac hugging? Tommy stares at his reflection in the mirror. Does Adam want me? He immediately discards the idea; Adam has a boyfriend. A boyfriend who he cares very deeply about-supposedly.
Tommy pushes up his sleeves, examining the damage to his wrists. They hurt like hell. And they look awful. Holding his wrists under the faucet, he turns on the cold water. With the water running, he does not hear the door open.
"Tommy?" Adam asks, standing a few feet behind Tommy.
Tommy yanks the sleeves of his hoodie down, hoping that Adam did not see his mutilated wrists. He looks at Adam's reflection in the mirror. "Hey."
Adam walks up to Tommy slowly. Reaching out a hand, he grabs Tommy's wrist.
"Ow!" Tommy yells, pulling away violently. "Don't touch me!"
"What was on your wrists?" Adam's face is a mask of worry.
Shoving past Adam, Tommy pulls open the door. Adam follows him, his hand landing heavily on Tommy's shoulder. Tommy whips around, snarling, "What the fuck did I tell you?! Don't fucking touch me!"
Adam reels back in shock. "Tommy. Don't do this." His voice is filled with hurt.
Tommy crosses his arms defensively. "What do you want?"
Carefully, Adam steps closer to Tommy. "Kitty," he says, using his pet name for Tommy, "what happened to your wrists?"
Tommy looks down, his hair falling in front of his face to shield his eyes. "Nothing," he mumbles. "It's nothing." He turns to go, but Adam stops him again with a hand on his shoulder. He feels Adam wrap his arms around him from behind, pulling him into a hug. Tommy stiffens. "Please. Don't touch me."
Adam spins Tommy around. "What the fuck is your problem?!" he demands angrily.
Tommy recoils, stunned at the tone Adam has now taken with him. "Just leave me alone!"
"Why?" Adam's face is set in a frown. "Why do you want me to leave you alone? What did you do to yourself, Tommy?"
"It's none of your fucking business, Adam! You're not my boyfriend!" Tommy immediately regrets those last words. His face flaming, he turns and stalks off.
Adam follows right behind Tommy. "You're my best friend, Tommy Joe! I think I have a right to know what's going on!"
"Best friend!" Tommy scoffs. After you play around with my emotions on the Glam Nation tour and every other fucking time we're together? "Fuck off, Adam."
"Don't you tell me to 'fuck off,' Thomas Joseph Ratliff!" Adam is pissed now. "You are my best friend! Nothing less!"
"And nothing more, right?" Tommy spits.
Confusion flits across Adam's face. "I don't know what you're talking about, Tommy."
"Like hell!" Tommy glares at Adam, his mouth set in a tight, thin line. "I'm leaving. Isaac is waiting for me."
"Wait a minute! You're not going anywhere until you tell me what all the blood was on your wrists!" Adam grabs Tommy's arm, pulling his body into his.
Tommy struggles to break free of Adam's hold. It is useless; Adam is too strong. Reluctantly, he lets himself relax into Adam's chest, wanting to feel loved.
Adam wraps his arms tighter around Tommy's small body. Running a hand through Tommy's blonde fringe, he asks quietly, "Can you tell me what happened?"
Tommy heaves a sigh. Burying his head into Adam's chest, he mumbles, "I cut myself."
"With what?" Adam's body goes rigid.
"A knife," Tommy replies.
Adam lets go, taking Tommy's hands in his. His eyes locked with Tommy's, he pushes up the sleeves of Tommy's hoodie. He glances down as pain contorts Tommy's features. Adam lets out an involuntary gasp at the sight of Tommy's mutilated wrists.
Tommy looks at his pale wrists, which are now on display. Deep red lacerations criss cross his skinny arms. The black designs on both of his wrists are disrupted by the bright red gashes. His wrists seem to hurt more now that Adam is examining them.
Disbelieving, Adam looks up at Tommy. His eyes are watery. "You did this?"
Tommy nods silently.
"Why?" Adam's voice comes out a strained whisper. "Why, Tommy?"
Before Tommy can respond, Isaac comes around the corner. "Tommy?"
Tommy quickly pulls his wrists away from Adam. "Yeah."
Isaac looks back and forth at the two men. "Are you ready?" he asks, deciding to ignore the strange situation that seems to be unfolding before him.
"Yeah. I'm ready." Tommy turns away from Adam, the sleeves of his sweater falling down his arms to hide the cuts.
As Tommy walks away, Adam calls out, "We'll talk later. This is not over, Tommy."
Tommy stares out the window, watching as they drive through his neighborhood. As Isaac parks the car in his driveway, Tommy asks, "You wanna come in?"
Isaac nods. "Sure."
Grabbing his guitar from the backseat, Tommy goes to unlock the front door. He walks into the living room, setting his guitar down in the corner. "Want a drink?"
"Yeah." Isaac slips his jacket off, sitting down on the couch.
Tommy goes to the kitchen, grabbing a couple of beers and a bag of chips. They stopped by In-and-Out on their way home, grabbing lunch there. But Tommy figures they could use some junk food to go with the beer. "Beer okay?" he asks as he comes back to the living room.
"That's fine." Isaac twists off the cap, taking a long swig.
Tommy sits next to Isaac, ripping open the bag of chips. Opening the bottle, he leans back on the couch. He is a little shocked when Isaac's arm slides behind his shoulders, pulling his body closer to the drummer's. Tommy leans into Isaac, enjoying the feeling of being held. He can almost pretend that it is Adam holding him.
"Tommy?" Isaac questions, breaking Tommy out of his reverie. When Tommy looks up at him, Isaac continues, "What was going on between you and Adam today?"
"Oh, that," Tommy says, shrugging noncommittally. "We got in a little argument. It's nothing."
Isaac does not say anything, just takes another sip from the bottle in his hand. He chews on his lip for a second before saying, "Are you okay, Tommy?"
"Yeah." Tommy casts his eyes down, thankful Isaac cannot see his face. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Isaac sighs heavily. "It's none of my business, but you're my friend, Tommy. And I don't want to see you hurt." He takes a breath, pausing for a moment. "You like him, don't you?" he challenges.
Tommy's brown eyes go wide. How the fuck? Is it that obvious? In an effort to skirt the subject, he replies, "He's my best friend, Isaac. Of course I like him."
"You know what I mean, Tommy," Isaac says gently.
"I'm not gay, Isaac," Tommy starts, not sounding very convincing.
"Tommy. It's okay. You can tell me." Isaac pulls away so he can look Tommy in the eyes. "I know you're not gay. You like women. I get it. So do I. But you are attracted to Adam."
Tommy's lower lip trembles slightly. He has tried so hard over the past four years to hide his attraction to Adam. He even tried hiding it from himself for a while. Quietly, Tommy whispers, "I am attracted to him. But he doesn't see it."
"Tommy. He does see it. And you might not believe it, but he wants you." Isaac glances away a moment before continuing. "He doesn't like it when I'm with you."
Tommy swallows thickly. He can see the truth behind Isaac's words. Adam does act strangely whenever Tommy is with Isaac. He thought it was just his subconcious trying to provide him with a valid example that Adam is attracted to him. "But why would he be jealous when I'm with you?" Tommy is slightly confused.
Isaac leans into Tommy, running his fingertips lightly down the side of Tommy's face. "Because he knows that I like you," he replies quietly.
Before Tommy knows what is happening, Isaac's lips are on his, the drummer's tongue pushing into his mouth. Tommy responds hesitantly, his tongue exploring Isaac's mouth. He moans, nearly letting himself believe it is Adam kissing him, and not Isaac. Tommy falls back on the couch, allowing Isaac to take control. He runs his fingers through the drummer's dark hair, spreading his legs to relieve some of the pressure on his cock. Taking that as an invitation, Isaac presses his erection into Tommy's crotch. Tommy can feel himself harden in response to Isaac's bulge resting against him. "Isaac," Tommy gasps, pulling away for a minute.
"I'm sorry, Tommy," Isaac bursts out, worried. "I-I didn't mean to let it go this far-"
"No," Tommy cuts him off, putting a finger to Isaac's lips. "Let's go upstairs to my bedroom." Tommy smiles somewhat shyly, his hair falling in his face.
Isaac grins, pulling Tommy up off the couch. Tommy leads him upstairs and into his bedroom. He lays down on the bed, tugging Isaac down beside him. He turns on his side to face him. "Why did you kiss me?"
Isaac smiles self-conciously. "Because I like you, Tommy."
"You do?" Tommy asks dubiously. "Even though I am insanely obsessed with our boss? Actually, I should say stupidly obsessed." He mutters that last part under his breath, but Isaac still hears him.
"Every gay guy and every straight girl is obsessed with Adam," Isaac reasons. "Adam just has this air of untouchability around him. He's got this larger than life persona."
Tommy nods. "I guess I just better be happy that I can call him my best friend."
Isaac reaches a hand out slowly, brushing away the hair that has fallen in Tommy's eyes. "I want you so bad, Tommy," Isaac murmurs into Tommy's ear.
Tommy moans softly, wanting to feel Isaac's hand on his dick. Suddenly, Isaac is on top of him, his lips pressed against Tommy's neck. Arching his back, Tommy spreads his legs wide, letting Isaac grind into him. He wraps his arms around Isaac's neck, tangling his fingers in his hair. Isaac bites the tender, pale skin of Tommy's neck, leaving a reddish purple mark. Isaac gently untangles Tommy's arms from around his neck so he can take his hoodie off. Tommy helps Isaac undress him, forgetting about the cuts on his wrist until it is too late.
Isaac stops abruptly when he sees the deep red gashes decorating Tommy's arms. "What the hell happened?"
Tommy winces, cowering back into the pillows. He yanks his arms away from Isaac's grasp. "It's nothing."
"That is not nothing, Tommy!" Isaac's eyes are wide with alarm. "Did you do this?"
Tommy struggles to control his breathing, which is starting to come in quick, short gasps. His lower lip trembling, a single tear falls down his cheek. "Yes," he whispers, barely audible.
"Tommy," Isaac gasps, sounding upset. He wraps his arms around Tommy's small shoulders, murmuring in his ear, "It's okay. Tell me what happened."
"I used to cut myself when I was younger." Tommy refuses to look Isaac in the eye, instead staring at the floor. "I would slit my wrists with a pocket knife. Sometimes scissors. Any sharp object, really."
"Why did you cut yourself?" Isaac asks quietly.
"Whenever I felt miserable or depressed. Or when I was angry at myself or someone else. Cutting myself took that pain away. It replaced it with a different hurt. One that I could deal with." Tommy says this all without any emotion. He does not once glance up from where he is staring fixedly at the floor.
"When did you do this, Tommy?" Isaac gently takes Tommy's hand in his, twining their fingers together.
"This morning," Tommy whispers, giving Isaac's hand a tiny squeeze.
"Can you tell me why?" Isaac asks.
"Because I was feeling really depressed about Adam." Tommy mumbles, cuddling into Isaac's chest. "He has treated me like shit ever since he started dating that Finn."
Isaac stills his hand, which petting Tommy's hair. "What do you mean?"
Tommy glances up at Isaac. "Whenever I have sex with Adam, I feel like he's just using me. A little while ago-"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Isaac interrupts. "You're having sex with Adam?"
Tommy's eyes widen in alarm, realizing he just spilled a very delicate, private secret. What the hell; might as well tell him everything. "Yeah, um... I've had sex with him. Mostly when we're on tour. But there have been times when the Finn would be gone, and Adam would invite me over to his house to have sex."
Isaac purses his lips. "And then he acts like it's nothing?"
Tommy nods miserably. "I wouldn't say anything normally. Sex is just...sex. At least for me. But I have feelings for Adam. And somehow, when we have sex, it means more. At least to me. I don't know." He shrugs, defeated.
"What a motherfucking, son-of-a-bitch bastard," Isaac growls. "C'mere, Tommy." He pulls Tommy into him, using his index finger to lift Tommy's chin up. Slowly, he brings his lips to Tommy's, wrapping his hand around the back of Tommy's neck.
Tommy instantly responds to the kiss, moving his lips in sync with Isaac's. Twisting his hands in the fabric of Isaac's shirt, he pulls their bodies closer together. Isaac pushes Tommy down on the bed, crawling on top of him. Tommy can feel himself harden again with Isaac pressing into him. Breaking their kiss for a moment, Isaac whips off his shirt, and then helps Tommy with his, taking care not to brush against his mutilated wrists. Tommy moans, his jeans uncomfortably tight between his legs. Isaac reaches down and unbuttons Tommy's jeans, slipping a hand inside and cupping Tommy's bulge through his underwear. Tommy writhes against Isaac's body in complete pleasure. Isaac tugs Tommy's pants and briefs down past his hips, then takes off his own so they are both completely naked. Tommy spreads his legs wide, providing Isaac with easy access to his hard cock. Settling himself between Tommy's legs and leaning over him, Isaac braces himself on his hands. He pecks a light, teasing kiss on Tommy's mouth. Tommy's lips curl into a devious smile. Slowly, he lifts his lower body up, rubbing his leaking cock against Isaac's abdomen.
"Tommy," Isaac groans, unable to control himself from grinding into Tommy.
"Take me," Tommy whispers, his breath hot in Isaac's ear.
Waiting for no further invitation, Isaac wraps a hand around Tommy's dick, giving it a hard squeeze. He pumps it slowly, making Tommy moan. Grabbing Isaac's erected cock, Tommy rubs his thumb over the slit repeatedly, knowing he is driving Isaac crazy. Isaac pumps Tommy's dick harder, wanting to feel Tommy shudder. Tommy gasps, using his other hand to finger Isaac's tight hole. Spreading Tommy's legs with one hand, Isaac continues to jack Tommy's cock. Gently, Isaac removes Tommy's hand from where it is wrapped around his dick. Crawling closer to Tommy, he presses the head of his cock against Tommy's tight hole. Tommy clutches the drummer's biceps as Isaac pushes slowly into him, his pre-come the only thing slicking the way past his muscle. Tommy's hole continues to stretch as Isaac pushes deeper inside of him, all the way to the base of his cock.
"Isaac," Tommys gasps as the head of Isaac's cock hits that spot inside of him. Moving his hips with the rhythm that Isaac starts, Tommy squeezes his eyes shut. He can almost pretend that it is Adam who is in him, fucking him like this. Peeking through his lashes, he can almost believe Isaac is Adam; he does have a resemblance, what with the dark hair and make-up lining his eyes. But he shakes away his thoughts; it is not fair to be thinking about another man when Isaac is between his legs. Tommy forces himself back to the moment.
Isaac slides his dick out, pushing back into Tommy forcefully. Over and over, Isaac continues the erratic rhythm.
Grabbing Isaac's hair, Tommy moans, feeling his balls tense up. "Isaac!" He thrashes his head back and forth on the pillow. "Fuck!" he cries out as he feels the orgasm rip through his whole body. His muscles clench, and then he is coming, the milky white warmth spilling across his stomach and coating the front of Isaac's chest. Tommy thrusts his hips into Isaac, wanting to make the orgasm last even longer. Then, he feels Isaac's dick tense inside of him, and he is getting filled with warm, sticky come. "Ride it out, baby," Tommy gasps, clutching at Isaac. He lets the drummer pound into him, loving the feeling of Isaac's sweaty body against his own. They are both panting by the time the intense vibrations fade away.
Isaac slowly pulls his flaccid cock out of Tommy, rolling off of him and onto his side. He kisses Tommy on the lips, resting a hand lightly on Tommy's bare hip. Cuddling into Isaac, Tommy sighs in contentment. I don't need Adam after all. Isaac is the one who really cares about me. Not Adam. Adam never cared about me like Isaac does.
"Tommy?" Isaac whispers in Tommy's ear.
Tommy can hardly see Isaac in the darkened room. He does not now how it got so late. I guess time flies when you're having sex, he thinks with a smile. "What?" he whispers back.
"You are incredibly sexy, you know that?" Isaac fingers Tommy's fringe.
Tommy laughs quietly. "You're the one who's incredibly sexy," he replies. He kisses Isaac, reaching between their bodies and wrapping his hand around Isaac's cock. "Can you stay here tonight?"
"I was hoping you'd say that," Isaac manages to reply, seeing as he is a little preoccupied at the moment with Tommy squeezing his cock.
"So is that a yes?" Tommy asks hopefully.
"That's a yes." Isaac moans as Tommy rubs his thumb over the head of his dick.
"Good." Tommy crawls between Isaac's legs, placing his lips at the tip of Isaac's cock. "Because now it's my turn."