Will I – Adam Lambert & Tommy Joe Ratliff
He's shaking on the bathroom floor, clenching his stomach in his hands with tears on his face. He's been left here, to be forgotten and lost. His head is pounding as he manages to crawl towards the toilet, shoving his face inches closer to the water and hurling the non-existent contents into the bowl. Dry heaving again. His throat is burning from the force and the bile, and he coughs loudly, shaking before falling over again, his head hitting the linoleum floor with a dulled thump. Not that it matters, really. He just ignores it as the chills sweep over his bare shoulders. He feels so filthy…
He closes his eyes, blocking out his own mental screams. He hurts all over and just wants to curl into a ball and sleep. Sleep or die, but neither of which are coming to him. His fingers are cold and behind his lids he sees that mocking face smiling down at him. He still feels those hands on his hips, digging into his skin and marking him; claiming him. He can still taste the kisses that bruised his lips not an hour ago. His head spins in a circle again, but he doesn't move more than a few inches to roll over and heave onto the shower mat.
Gripping him, it's like the torture never ends, see? The hot breath trickles down his skin and makes him shiver, and he longs so to be free of this. It's not right— why is it him? Of all people that could do this, it has to be him? It had started as an innocent visit, a cup of coffee followed with some innocent talking and innocent flirting. It had started out so gentle and playful, just like every visit between them used to be. And now he's being bruised beneath one of few people he thought he could trust the most. He's being torn apart…
Adam rolls face down onto the mat and cries, heaving and coughing every few moments and wrecking his voice with his tears. At this point he doesn't care though. He's shaking and he's freezing as he lies naked on the bathroom floor, feeling more violated than he could have ever imagined. He thought he could trust that fucker, and here he is now, wanting so desperately to die that he's almost one-hundred percent tempted to hunt down a bottle of whiskey and anti-depressant pills from the cabinet. He's never had to use them himself before, but now he's glad that they're in the condo.
Will I lose my dignity?
It's like every touch is a slap in the face, every kiss is an inconsiderate lie. He presses his hands to the younger man's shoulders and shoves, trying to push him away so he can run. But surprisingly, he's strong for his size and stays put relatively well. The younger male growls and kisses Adam again, biting down on his lip and tearing it open with his teeth. Adam whines in pain, pressing his tongue against the bottom of his mouth to keep it from the male's possessive muscle.
The nails dig into his hips and tears are streaming down his face like angry bullets from distressed pistols. They dig deeper and harder and when his lips are free, Adam screams, throwing his head back and pressing his hips into the bed, away from the man above him. Not that this matters, because his hips are pulled back up anyways.
Why? Why him? Not that Adam wants this anyway, but of all the people, why him? So sweet, so innocent looking and unsuspecting. Wasn't he told once that it was always the ones you don't suspect? He should have listened better then. But he didn't, and now he's suffering on his fucking bathroom floor because of it. How depressing.
"Slut…" The male hisses into Adam's ear, pulling on his midnight black hair and ripping a scream from deep within the singer's chest. Adam hates this, he hates it so much. He wants this to end and all the same there's a part of him that enjoys the roughness. He's had it rough before but not like this. He never wants it like this. The way his hair is being pulled, the way the kisses are being forcefully placed upon his body… No.
"Please— stop…" Adam begs. The male chuckles darkly, pulling on Adam's hair again, making the singer groan. He can feel hairs being plucked from his head, and if this goes on anymore, he knows for a fact he's going to start bleeding… That is, if he hasn't already.
Will someone care?
Adam coughs hard, heaving against the shower mat again, before curling into a ball. Everything is burning and aching, his body feels cold and he head is still pounding. His fingers are twitching as he rests them against the groove between the tub's edge and the floor. His eyes flutter open and close like indecisive windows in a wind storm. He's trembling all over and he wishes that the recent events would just stop haunting him already. He wishes so dearly that these images would go away and he could be at peace already. But they don't go away. They're persistent motherfuckers.
"Stop? Oh, Adam, baby— that's something I'm never gonna do." He whispers to Adam, and the singer whimpers. Teeth bite into his skin and lips mold around the growing hickeys, sucking hard on them. As much as he doesn't want to, Adam can't resist a moan. He loves to be bitten, and the pleasure he feels blocks out the horror of this moment. The male smiles around his skin, his rough hands moving down and repositioning Adam subtly. The singer whines, pulling away and turning his head to the side.
"Please…" Adam whispers into the fabric of the pillow case. His pillow case. This is his bed. Why are they here? Why, on his bed, in his room, in his condo? This shouldn't be happening. This man shouldn't be here. His Glitterbaby should be here. Not his ex. Not Brad.
"Please, what?" Brad whispers, the tip of himself pressed against Adam's thigh. The singer suppresses a groan.
"Just let me go. I'll give you anything you want, just… please, don't do this…" Adam says. Brad's eyes are gleaming with mischief and lust, a combination that Adam really doesn't want to see in his ex-lover's eyes. Not now.
"Oh, baby— don't you get it? What I want is you…" Adam's eyes widen as Brad shifts with rabid speed, and he lets out a guttural scream that vibrates on the walls…
Will I wake tomorrow—
"Stop…" Adam whispers to himself, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing so desperately that these images, these so recent scars burning deep into his heart would just go the fuck away right now. He wants all of this to just end…
"Adam?" He hears a voice from down the hall and his heart stops. No— Glitterbaby… Tommy, he can't see Adam like this. Adam struggles, slowly and sluggishly reaching up and gripping the edge of the tub. Maybe, if he can summon the strength, he can slip into the tub and shut the curtain, and Tommy won't see him. Maybe he can, if he picks up the pace a little bit here.
But his arms are weak from lying on a hard, cold floor for three hours and quite frankly, he's a little sore from what he's been through. Straining, Adam manages to get himself into a near-sitting position before his left arm spazzes and he falls onto his elbows before falling flat again. Wincing, he groans softly under his breath, and he can hear Tommy's footsteps coming closer to the bathroom. His heart is pounding in his throat and making it really hard for him to breathe.
"Adam?" Tommy's right by the door, his back is to Adam though. Adam lifts his head just enough to peer up at his Glitterbaby through his mop of hair. Tommy turns, peering into the darkness of the bathroom, before reaching inside and flicking the switch. The sudden change of life burns Adam's eyes and he squeezes them shut against the outside world. The sound Tommy makes is a cross between a gasp of fear and a choked sob. The blond crashes to his knees beside Adam and strong, calloused hands roll him over. Cringing, Adam's head is rested in Tommy's lap.
"Oh my God, Baby Boy— no, no…" Tommy whispers, and Adam feels something wet fall on his face. Fingertips stroke through his hair, touching his lips with such tenderness that it almost feels like he's not being touched at all. He's heard stories before, Adam has. Rape victims who won't want to be touched by anyone for months, sometimes years. But Adam knows he can trust Tommy, he knows he can trust his Glitterbaby that he'll be safe. He used to believe Brad would keep him safe. Now he knows a little better, and he learned a very, very hard way.
"Baby Boy, who did this— why… when…" Tommy can't even finish a single sentence completely before his sobs intervene between every word. And despite the fact that this is his Glitterbaby, his love— Adam curls into a ball against Tommy's lap, trying to hide his broken, bruised, exposed body. "God, Adam… I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry…" Over and over, it's the same sentence, the same phrase. The same apology for a crime that his Glitterbaby did not commit.
—from this nightmare?