I'm thinking of doing an Mpreg with Adam and Tommy. What do you guys think? I don't know. I just don't see a lot of Adommy Mpreg's, and I really like them...Aw, well.

"Alright, so if pi isn't divisible by that number, then what do you get?" I asked, completely and utterly bored after the two torturous hours of being with Adam Fucking Lambert and his "glamorousness". The only thing we were talking about were numbers and the laws of physics, but the sound of his voice pisses me the hell off. The way it ends in a phenomenal high pitch, and the melody dripping from his lips. Man…

"NO! Pi isn't divisible by anything!" he said, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Maybe we should take a break or something," he suggested lying on my (I mind you; Adam Lambert is lying on my bed! What the fuck gave him the motivation to do that?) bed and closing his eyes, putting his arms behind his head. And as much as I hated his filthy guts, I couldn't help but feel extremely gay towards him. But he's like the straightest man alive. And here I was. Some gay rebel that just wanted to shove my penis so far up his ass he'd scream uncle! But those are fantasies, Tommy. Mere fantasies…

"Well you don't have to get all pissy about it," I mumbled, crossing my arms and turning my chair so I was facing him. Why was he here? Why was he my tutor? And worse of all: Why in the name of GOD (let's get one thing straight, there is no God. Just thought I'd get that out of the way) did fate hate me so much?

"With that attitude, you'll never go to college. You'll live in a box for the rest of your life. If that's your dream, go ahead and live it. I'm not going to stop you." He shrugged, crossing his boots and putting both his hands behind his head.

"You're over exaggerating a bit, aren't you?" I asked raising an eyebrow. Then I was thinking; why on earth am I even trying to start a convseratoin with this God? That just doesn't seem like me.

"I'm just stating facts," he muttered, closing his eyes. They had black eyeshadow on them. He was either gay with great make-up tips, or a feminine straight man that just conveniently knows his make-up and style. Plus clothes, of course.

"Pssh, whatever…" I mumbled, and had the sudden urge to just smoke some pot right now, but knowing Mr. Goody-Two shoes, he'd probably tell on me. I know it sounds so elementary school, but whatever. He's perfect, and that means absolutely no drugs. "I gotta go to the bathroom; I'll be right back…" I muttered, leaving and going to the restroom that connected to my room. I actually didn't need to take a piss, but I felt like getting out of the same room as that bastard. It was like he was filling the air with his arrogance, and I can only take so much. It felt like my lungs were about to implode inwardly.

After washing my face with bitter cold water, I walked back into my crib (teehee), and spotted a pair of leopard boots crossed and the owner had a smirk on his face. My eyes gazed up at his face, and I gasped. Not only because of the striking beauty of his sneer, but what he was grasping in his hand.

"What's this?" he asked slyly, holding up my bag off weed and shaking it a bit. How the hell did he obtain that? What possessed him to rampage through my room and find my stash? He had to lift up my mattress to retrieve that bag! Was he some kind of snoop or something? Nosy son of a bitch…

"I-I…Don't know how it got there?" I lamely answered and blushed a bit. Not only because of my pathetic excuse for an answer but because I had been caught. Now my torturer knew my weakness. He's probably gonna run downstairs screaming to my mother, telling on me.

"Do you have a pipe?" he asked, raising a perfect thick, black eyebrow. I looked at him like he was completely insane, but nodded none the less. "Good. Get it, shut your door, pop a window, and I'll crush the weed," he ordered, and like a mindless idiot I followed his orders. How did he know what to do? This was exactly what I did when going through a pot session. I quickly went through my drawer and found my precious pipe and handed it to him. He smiled his same breathtaking smile and shoved some of the weed in top and placed the tip in his mouth. I handed him the lighter and he held it upside down and lit the lighter. I saw him close his eyes and suck in deeply then pull the pipe away. He didn't even cough. Adam merely exhaled some of the smoke and I inhaled that through my nostrils. Weird. It smelt like weed and coffee…

"Here you go," he said, his eyelids slumping lightly. I took the pipe and looked at the tip. Some of his spit still graced it. I just shrugged and did the same process. Except instead of just smoking in the weedy flavor, coffee mixed into my mouth and I swallowed. I felt a bit light headed, but that was just the thrill. Is that what he tasted like? It's weird 'cause his hair smells like peaches. Sweet, sweet peaches…

"I didn't know you smoked," I commented as he took another whiff, handing it back to me. He shrugged and grinned.

"Well you don't know a lot of things about me. We are in different social classes," he stated and my shoulders slumped lightly.

"Don't remind me. You treat me like complete shit…" I muttered, taking in a deep inhale a coughing lightly at the intake. He just looked at me sympathetically (I don't need sympathy, I don't need pity, so leave me alone with those damned puppy dog eyes). I looked back at him, and everything seemed to disappear except for his beautiful figure. Well, that was odd. Damn drug…

"I only do it to keep my rank. You are kind of the loser of the school." He kind of gave me a look that said 'Didn't you know?' I growled lightly and punched his arm. "OW!" Such a drama queen. I didn't even hit him that hard. "You didn't even let me finish my sentence," he said, grabbing my chin and tilting it up. "The only reason I treat you like that is because I like you," he slurred, his left eyebrow twitching. Shit, that was hot. "You're such a little elf looking boy…" he groaned, attacking my lips with his glossy thick ones. I gasped, but he only took that as an opportunity to enter his tongue. His shadowed eyes were closed and I soon closed mine, tangling my finger in his newly black dyed hair (it used to be this strawberry color, but one day he just went to school and it was black…). He moaned and pushed me so I was lying on the floor. His hands were on either side of my head and he straddled me.

I felt something sharp poke into my stomach and I couldn't help but chuckle a bit at it. Erection, much? Even though I was one to talk. My zipper was about to pop. I felt his cold hand slide up my shirt and quickly take it off. I felt a bit self-conscious, but when he removed his lips from mine, they quickly took place on my stomach and began butterfly kissing up to my neck. In that amount of time I had managed to take another whiff of weed. He seemed to want some, so he just inhaled quickly and assaulted my mouth again.

Where was this getting at? We're just two drugged up teenager about to get into each other's pants. Is this cliché? I hope it's not cliché…Stereotypical situations aren't really my thing (if you know what I mean).

His swift (and rather professional) hands undid my zipper and he pulled my pants down to my knees and immediately went for my crotch; rubbing his fist up and down it rapidly. I moaned loudly into his mouth and I could feel him laugh a bit. Don't come in my pants, don't come in my pants, don't-DAMNIT! My manly-hood suddenly became very sticky and wet in my underwear. I looked up at him angrily and he just smiled from my lips. He got up and took of his shirt, and I couldn't help but allow my mouth to open a bit. That was one freckled, tone chest. Is that…chest hair? No, fucking way! How the hell does he have chest hair at the age of eighteen? Is that even possible? Oh fuck me. I've just got this pale, pasty, hairless, hair…Hm. Unfair, much?

"Do you like what you see?" he asked, smirking again and kissing from my chest down to the hem of my underwear. I moaned in response and that seemed to be enough for him. "That's what I thought. I'm sexy, aren't I?" I nodded furiously and he grinned. "You're not too shabby yourself, cutie…" He winked a bit and spanked my ass. Jesus, he was one professional make-outer? Is that something? Oh, screw logic and names, I'm about to perhaps screw the hottest guy in the world!

My hands moved on their own as I quickly tried to undo his belt buckle. Adam just shook his head and grabbed them, pinning my arms above my head. "If we're going to do this, I'm going to lead, alright?" I sighed lightly. I should've expected as much…

"Fine…" I mumbled and he smiled, releasing my wrists and pulling down my underwear. Oh, shit. The moment of truth…Am I bigger than he expected? Or is this the end of it? Please don't be the end of it…I want to have someone feel me and actually enjoy it.

"You're more hung than I expected. Nice," was all he said before he curled his hands around my penis and began to pump it. Shit, shit, shit, shit! My back arched in pure pleasure and I moaned loudly, trying to suppress it so my mother didn't hear. "You like that?" he asked. Uh, stupidest question of the year! I absolutely adore it Mr. Lambert!

When I finally came for the second time, he licked his hand of it as if it were whip cream. "Wanna see me?" he asked, and I nodded, my headache worsening from the weed. And having my head against hard wood floors didn't help much either. It pounded profusely, but I tried to ignore it so I could enjoy this once in a lifetime experience. "Good. Take off my belt," he ordered. I did as I was told and threw it across the room; it skidded and landed near the baby blue wall. He slowly unzipped his pants and pulled them down. Why wasn't he wearing underwear? Who in the name of god doesn't wear underwear with their pants? My face began to burn at the sight. Oh, hell YES! He was fucking huge (as expected from someone as great as him). "You like?" he asked, and all I could do was nod. "Well good." His eyes seemed to have a gleam if impishness.

He grabbed my wrist and placed my hand on it. He groaned lightly arching his head back, allowing me to curl my fingers around the thickness. Dude, this was really happening, wasn't it? He groaned even more, but it seemed to be more out of pain than anything else. He suddenly shook his head with his eyes closed and opened them back up. They were still a bit red in the white area surrounding his beautiful blue orbs. I just kind of smiled awkwardly up at him and he gasped, looking down at his cock and my hand. "WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?" he screamed, pushing himself off of me, forcing my head to bang against the hard wood floor. Not so great for my headache, Sherlock. "Dude, I'm not gay. How the hell did you even get me into this situation?" he snarled, looking for his underwear. What was his problem? He's the one that made the first move and forced himself on me.

I just moaned a little (out of sadness, rejection, and my immense migraine). "Y-You're the one that came onto me…" I muttered, pulling on my shirt and boxers. Inwardly, I sighed. It was way too good to be true. Me? About to screw Adam Lambert? At least I touched his joy and pride. How many people can say that? Alright, that's a stupid question. He's kind of a man-whore. That's right. He's had sex with about every girl, and possibly boy, in the school. I didn't even notice it, but I was sort of dazing out when suddenly I was thrust against a wall. My eyes widened, and I looked at a confused and angered face in front of me. He was like a death angel. It was like a constant aura of gorgeousness radiates off this man!

"You are never, never, going to tell anyone about this. This was an absolute mistake, and I have no idea why I even considered it. You're just so…" He turned his head to the side and snarled at me suddenly. "Just. Never tell anyone what happened tonight. Do you understand?" he whispered in a venomous tone. His left eyebrow twitched, and I wondered if it was a habit, or just plain sexy. Was it involuntary? Oof, get back on track, Ratliff!

I just gulped lightly and nodded. He narrowed his eyes and immediately released his grip from me, storming out of my room. "Fag." That was all he said before leaving. I could hear him bid his farewells to my mother as the door slammed.

I sighed, and willed myself not to cry. I slowly slid down the wall. Deep down inside, I knew it was just plain awful and pathetic. Jesus, I'm sick of this. Why am I always the victim? This just doesn't seem right. Wait, maybe I can use this to my advantage. If he's all popular and questionably a homosexual, couldn't I use this to destroy his reputation and force him down to my "loser level"? That would work, wouldn't it? Maybe for once, I could actually bring him down. Give him a taste of his own medicine.

I smirked lightly and pulled on my pants, walking into the bathroom, washing my hands (ridding myself of those awful Adam germs). I fixed my hair and walked downstairs, a rare grin on my face. My mother eyed me wearily. My head, of course, was still pounding and about to split, but I always get those when smoking. You get use to it after awhile.

"What's wrong?" she asked and I rolled my eyes, sitting on the stool and twirling around a bit, the master plan working in my mind. It was in fucking overdrive.

"Can't I smile without being questioned?" I asked, shrugging a bit. She sighed and started dinner.

"Do you want to keep Adam as a tutor? I had an alternative if you didn't like him."

"Nah, I'll keep Adam. It'll be fun."