nutrek RPF/american idol RPF, zachary quinto/adam lambert , NC-17, for . ~9700 words. much thanks to and . I WISH I HAD SOME EXCUSE FOR THIS. stylish disclaimer: none of this ever happened; for fun and not profit. It's a New Dawn (center square: crossover fusion) Break-ups are always shit. You sit on your ass, boring everyone who comes near you with the moping and the pouting until it's just you sharing a couch with an empty pint of Häagen Dazs, and channel surfing in the vain hope of finding a TV show where everybody doesn't look like Him. Four of Adam's friends ganged up on him earlier tonight because they couldn't take it anymore, which is why he's moping all over this bar couch instead of the couch at home, but he's still in a full blown I'll-never-love-again flounce over being newly ex. Well. Two months ex. Fuck it, Adam tells himself. He might be miserable, but at least he can do it like a rock star. He catches the waiter's eye and waves him over with every intention of ordering a bottle of tequila and a lime because fuck it, right? You're only insanely famous for fifteen minutes. Their waiter comes up with a full tray and, to Adam's surprise, starts putting drinks down on the table. "Did you order this?" he asks Danielle, because she's the one nearest him, but she gives him a wide-eyed shrug. "Compliments of one of the other patrons," the waiter says, leaning down to get right up close to Adam's ear. He's hot, short and flirty and blond and just Adam's type, which means Adam wants nothing to fucking do with him. Still, he's curious. It's not like people don't send him drinks all the time, but usually they make the waiter point out their table just in case Adam decides they're the one he's been waiting for all his life. This silent treatment is weird. He tilts his head to a receptive angle and asks: "Who sent it?" The guy seems to go a bit rueful. He even backs off a half step. "Zach Quinto," he says, and gestures subtly across the VIP section at a booth in the corner. "He said to tell you who it was from only if you asked." Adam raises an eyebrow. Of course he knows the name; he doesn't watch Heroes, but he sure does know his way around the internet. He tries to be coy about it, leaning across to tug at Josh's sleeve so he won't look like he's looking. "Dude, fucking Spock just sent us drinks." "No shit?" Josh asks, his eyes widening. He instantly turns to scan the crowd, the least subtle thing in the world. "Is he here?" Adam can't help but laugh. "Yeah, apparently. You can stop staring anytime." Josh waves a dismissive hand at him. "Fuck you, man, that guy is smokin ." "What? Who are we talking about?" asks Brad, following Josh's gaze, because of course that's what makes him pay attention. Adam covers his laugh with his hand. "Oh my god, I can't take you people anywhere." "Zachary Quinto just sent us drinks," Josh announces to the table, ignoring Adam entirely. "My god, I would fuck him in a New York minute." Tanya cranes her neck to look onto the dance floor. "You're shitting me. Where?" In a display of pure class, Danielle shoves at her. "Come on, you guys. Pick up your free booze and get up on the floor. Maybe we'll find him." They all leap up, a pack of eager puppies tonight, and follow her. She gives Adam a wink and a smile as they disappear into the pulsing crowd. Adam wipes a thumb across his lips, which is the closest he can get to putting his face in his hands without smudging his makeup. His friends are the best and he is grateful for them, but there's shameless and then there's them. He can't help a smile, of course, and just sips his free vodka tonic and hopes that Zachary Quinto, wherever he is, is less uncomfortable now that there aren't three people looking for him. "I guess you don't feel like dancing," says a smooth, easy voice, and Adam looks up, startled. Standing at the edge of his couch in an outfit that practically blends into the wall is a man he's only ever seen on a computer screen. He's got a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that could only be described as kind, and his stance is as casual and unassuming as Kris's, which is saying something. He just bought drinks for Adam's friends, and he is neither blond nor short. Adam shifts over on the couch and gestures at the empty spot. "Not really a dancing night for me," he shrugs. "Thanks for the round, I appreciate it." "It's no problem. We've actually never met - Zach." He holds out his hand and Adam takes it firmly. It's warm and dry and strong, just right. "Adam. I haven't seen your movie yet, but I really want to." Zach shrugs easily. "No time, right? They must keep you pretty busy." Adam's all set to say yes - the tour, the record, the press, oh, it's all so taxing. That's the right answer, the expected one. But the truth sits in his chest like lead, and if he's going to sit here and talk to a total stranger, fuck it. Adam wasn't even supposed to be out tonight, he was meant to be at home cuddled up to Lifetime. But instead he's here and he looks at least moderately fabulous, and if he wants to act like a bit of a drama queen, well, he just fucking will. "To tell you the truth, Zach Quinto, it's because I just broke up with my boyfriend and movies are no fun if you can't hold hands under the popcorn." He gives a smile, and allows it to be sad instead of brave. Without a second's hesitation, Zach leans in to put a hand on his shoulder. Adam looks up and finds a face that's perfectly genuine. The much-vaunted eyebrows are at just such an angle, the night-black eyes expressive and open. "Man, I'm really sorry," he says, and his voice is sweet and, yes, still kind. "I've been there, believe me. It sucks." For a long second, Adam inspects him for cheap pickup, for Hollywood shallowness. For anything at all that might set off his bullshit detector. "It's not a move," Zach smiles, letting his hand slide away and putting it up, palm out. "Swear." Adam lets himself squint a little too much, turn his head so it's fun and flirty and nice. "I don't know," he teases. "You might be a stalker." Zach turns his face the same way, looks at Adam under his lashes. "Yes, clearly all this acting bullshit is just to get me into the exclusive clubs." "Well," Adam sighs dramatically as he slides around the table. "I suppose I could sit with you just this one time, but don't go telling all your friends about it." Following him out of the booth, Zach just smiles, but as they walk together toward his table, Adam feels the lightest brush against him, shoulder to shoulder. "After you," he says when they arrive, gesturing at the neon-streaked couch. There aren't any other people there, though Adam spies remnants of a group in crumpled cocktail napkins and an empty plate. He slides in and sets his drink down like he belongs here, since he's queening. He puts an arm up along the back of the couch, his hand resting just about where Zach should sit. Zach sits down just at the edge of that reach. Maybe, Adam thinks. Or maybe not. He sips his drink and lets his thumb press against smooth leather. "So where are your friends?" Another look under the lashes at that. If Adam didn't know better, he'd call it coy, but no - he's seen that look before. He's given that look before. "They had other things to do," Zach says, with just a hint of an edge riding underneath the softness in his voice. "I was gonna head out too, but I saw you..." He lets it trail off, like it isn't perfectly clear what goes at the end of that sentence. As if Adam was going to fill it in with and recognized you from American fucking Idol instead of and I thought you were hot . He sips at his drink, feels the ice clink against his lips and chill the skin. He licks the cold away, not too much tongue and not too little, because that's what he likes, and fuck it, right? Adam's never been great at self-denial, and he's never been a coward, either. "Well, my friends are on the dance floor," he says. "I think they had ulterior motives, leaving me alone like that." Zach smiles, and this one has no softness in it whatsoever. His teeth have a razor edge. "More explicitly?" Adam beams back at him. "Starfucking. They have no shame. It's kind of sad." It's nice to hear Zach laugh, surprised and amused. He keeps hinting at being all sexy and serious, but a second personality keeps peeking through in little hints - warm, sincere, a little bit silly. Adam can't help but grin and try to draw it out. "You know, you kind of remind me of this one friend of mine? I think you're a secret sweetheart." "Is that so?" Zach asks. He arches an eyebrow, and Adam suddenly gets why they're almost more famous than Zach is. "Totally. My friend isn't secret about it at all , though. The second you meet him, you know he's sweet. All I could think of for weeks after I met him was how to get him into bed, but wouldn't you know it: straight." A tight smile is his reward for that, rueful and twisty on Zach's lips. "I... wish I could say I didn't know what you mean." He sips at his drink, which looks to be a plain Coke. Adam leans forward, an elbow on the table now as he braces his arm against the back of the couch. "Tell me your troubles, baby. I'll tell you mine and we'll cry into our martinis." Zach taps two light fingers underneath Adam's chin, the barest suggestion of a teasing stroke lingering after them. "I'm afraid I'm driving tonight." He can't help but smile. "Our metaphorical martinis, God. Work with me, here!" With a soul-deep sigh, Zach leans back against the couch. His shoulder thumps against Adam's hand and though he must feel it, he doesn't move away. "Fine. Fine, since we're sharing, let's lay it all out on the table." "Right here," Adam echoes, thumping his hand against said table. "Let's go, right now." Zach tips his glass a little, acknowledging. "I had a crush on a guy at work. I had no excuse or even plausible deniability about it; I mean, I was the only queer on set and there was only one girl in the show. We spent every day lamenting being surrounded by so many hot and unavailable men, and to add insult to injury, we spent the rest of our time kissing on camera." "Poor baby." Adam lets his hand sneak a little further along the back of the couch, skating his fingers along Zach's shoulder. He rubs his thumb against the soft fabric and sips at his drink with his free hand. Zach puts his coke down with a thunk. "Don't tell me you have no problem with it," he says, a hand up. "You know what straight guys are like; you say something completely innocent like: hey, man, how was your weekend? And then they start up with how the date didn't quite work out, and he hasn't gotten laid since however long ago, and he's gonna start fucking the scenery soon, and you're like fuck you, Chris, I did not need to hear your sordid little details because this fucking uniform is unforgiving." Adam cuts him a look. "His name is Kris?" "It's not like he doesn't know he's hot," Zach scowls, and then notices that Adam's talking. "I'm sorry, what?" "Your crush," Adam says, his stomach flipping over. "His name is Kris?" Zach rolls his eyes a little, but at himself. If Adam's not mistaken, there's a sweet little blush darkening those cheeks. "Why don't we pretend you didn't hear that," he says, and buries his nose in his coke. Adam's just about to move his fingers to the neck, bare skin would be nice - and then Zach fires a narrow, intelligent look at him. "Why? Was yours?" Adam blinks at him. "What?" "Your crush." Zach shrugs, too casual. "Seemed like you thought you knew him." It wouldn't be anything he hasn't admitted to the major news outlets, but it's one thing to say it with a smile. It's a whole other thing to say it to somebody that knows what it really means. Adam firmly reminds himself that tonight is a fuck it all night. "Yeah. Cute as all get out, straight as an arrow and super extra über married." He laughs, wry and a little bitter. "They made me share a room with him." "Ouch," Zach murmurs, wincing. "At least they gave me my own trailer." "I had to sleep there!" Adam cries indignantly, not for the first time. "I couldn't even jerk off except in the shower in the morning. It was hell and I was in it." Zach smiles against the rim of his coke. "Poor baby." "Oh, fuck you," Adam laughs, and this time he does let his thumb slide heavily over that hot skin just above the collar. It's rough to the touch, stubble from his hairline grazing Adam's fingers. There's just enough vodka tonic in him that it's exotic and interesting, as opposed to not twink enough for Adam's tastes, so he slides his hand up over it without thinking. Abruptly, with no warning whatsoever, a strong hand grips his thigh high on the inside. Adam drags in a startled breath and looks; oh yes. There it is. Son of a bitch. Beside him, Zach is looking demurely at his near-empty glass. So low as to be almost lost in the thumping bass, Zach murmurs at him. "If you have a thing for being in public, I can oblige without it being quite so obvious." The fingers shift, rubbing against his inseam. Adam blows out a pained breath. "You don't waste any time," he says, stumbling the words a little. The look Zach slants at him makes the air ten degrees hotter around them. "Would you like me to stop?" Adam is abruptly aware that he is dealing with someone that's older than him. Zach has five years of experiences under his belt that can only be imagined. "Only," Adam says, taking care to be precise with his words, "if it means we're going someplace to fuck immediately now." Zach's fingers shift down a little, away from the danger zone. "What about your ex?" he asks, and Adam scowls because that's a hell of a mood killer. He shoots a glare at Zach's face, but sees genuine concern there - he keeps doing that. "Is it an on-again-off-again thing? If you're going to hate yourself tomorrow for cheating..." Adam lets his mouth hang open in shock. "Who are you? I mean, seriously, this is a hookup. And God knows everyone loves to hook up, but what do you care how I feel the next morning? Are you out to get sainted or something?" One strong thumb skims across Adam's thigh, and he almost doesn't notice it because Zach is laughing. He's really something when he laughs. "It's actually canonization ? And while I very much doubt the Vatican will be handing them out for this, I'm asking because given the exclusive choice between getting laid and making a friend... I choose friend. With you, anyway." Adam wrinkles his nose, more amused than anything. "I'm not sure whether to be insulted or flattered. Maybe both?" "Flattered is easier on your stomach," Zach smiles, and arches an eyebrow. "So?" Adam shakes his head. "No, no more on-again. We're done done," he says firmly, and it's a bit of a twinge, but better for being certain. Adam puts two fingers on Zach's wrist and nudges it back to where it was before, higher and closer and better - much better - spreading his knees apart under the table to give him access. "Now, weren't we talking about staying or leaving?" Zach's smile becomes sharper, smaller. "Am I sensing a choice to stay?" "I could," Adam grins, leaning back against the couch and stroking his thumb over the tender inside of Zach's wrist. "But I think we might just have more fun somewhere else." Zach leans closer, bumping their shoulders together as he murmurs into Adam's ear. "And you chose to communicate the urge to leave by pushing your cock into my hand?" Adam smirks at the wall across from them, and lets his own hand slide across Zach's hard thigh. "I'm a rock singer, honey. I do most of my talking with my dick." The high, muffled sound Zach makes in response could only be described as a giggle. He pushes his cheek against Adam's shoulder, and Adam turns his face toward it, rubbing against Zach's hair like a cat. "Come on," he coaxes. "Let's get outta here." Zach pulls away, disentangles them without seeming to lift a finger to do it. He fixes his hair with the same economy of motion, like magic, and produces money for the table from somewhere. A pocket. Adam watches his hands, but can't track just how he's doing it. Zach catches him watching and smiles as he slides out of the booth. "You did want to leave, right?" "Cute," Adam answers, rolling his eyes as he follows Zach out. Zach stays a step ahead of him down the steps and through the dancing throng. It's tough to keep up, keep him in sight: a slick black button-down and a pair of jeans describes half the people in here. Good thing they're both tall. At the coat check he finds Zach waiting for him, leaning against a wall and examining his fingernails. "Did you have anything?" he asks, tilting his head in the direction of the bored, gum-snapping coat check girl. "No, but I need a cab. Can't drive." Zach gives him a look. "I'm perfectly sober. Come with me." Adam hoots a surprised laugh. "Are you kidding me? You want me to get in your car? Outside this bar?" Gum-snapping coat check girl puts a hand over the mouthpiece of the phone she's already picked up to call Adam's cab, and leans across her counter. "They're not heavy tonight, guys, but there are some. It's still early." " Fuck ," Zach says, and the look on his face is at least a little terrifying. Adam steps up to his side and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about it," he says soothingly. "Just tell me where I'm going. Or I can tell you, but just be warned that my place is kind of a shithole. I'm moving soon, but I haven't had a chance to shop around." An edgy smirk makes it through the scowl. "The humble origins of a rock star." "Yeah, something like that," Adam grins. He asks the coat check girl for a pen, writes his cell number and address on a stray receipt, presses it into Zach's hand and then straightens his shirt. "I'll go first and lead them up the block. After a minute you'll be in the clear." He leans over and kisses Zach; he's aiming for the cheek, but gets a sweet spot just past the jaw. "Tip that girl for me," he murmurs. "See you in twenty." And he steps outside into a blur of flash bulbs and people shouting his name. Somebody asks about Drake - where is he, how's he doing, do they still talk. Adam refrains from hitting the guy, which he thinks is really indicative of the motherfucking sweetness and light in his soul. His cab doesn't take long to arrive, and he takes the opportunity to point it out to the paps, give them a quote about never, ever drinking and driving. Print that, you scandal whores. Nobody notices Zach slipping away to the parking lot. Adam lounges against the seat, his head pleasantly spinny. He gives the guy his address and gets a little bit of hey, you're that guy, my daughter loves you , which even now retains a little of its cool factor. Sometimes Adam's surprised how long it takes to get jaded; he figured he'd have long passed the point by now, but it's still so fucking cool. Streetlights flash across the vinyl seats and across Adam's nail polish. He wonders, now that he's got some space, if it was a really great idea to invite Zach back to his place. He wasn't expecting company tonight; God knows the place is an unholy disaster and his bedroom is probably worse. He's drunk and Zach isn't, which means he probably won't wind up calling the shots on this one, and he really likes to call the shots. What if Zach's fame makes him oblivious to Adam's own, which means instead of a rock star, he just sees a freckly Jewish kid with brown roots and a little pudge? No, Adam tells himself firmly. This is supposed to be fuck it night. He's supposed to forget all that bullshit, be who he wants to be. And the guy he wants to be is a successful, glamorous musician who's on all the VIP lists, gets laid whenever he wants, and gets drinks bought for him by hot movie stars. That's who he is , he reminds himself, and sets his jaw. "Twenty bucks," the cabbie says, and the tone of his voice suggests it isn't the first time he's said it. "Sorry, sorry." Adam digs in his pocket for his wallet, hands over a crumpled bill and climbs out. There's no Zach in sight on the darkened street, so he climbs up the stairs to his apartment - it's faster than waiting for the ancient elevator. Inside, he sweeps shit off the table and into drawers, shoves two glasses and a dish into the dishwasher, and manages to beat and kick the front closet into holding all his shoes and boots. His cell goes off then, and Adam flips it open, breathless. "Yeah, hi, hit the buzzer!" "...Hi, Adam. Did I catch you at a bad time?" Adam blinks at the phone, and pulls it away from his ear. The screen beams back at him: Kris Allen . Silently, Adam mouths a string of verbal abuse that would make his brother blush. When he's done, he puts the phone back at his ear and smiles. "Kris, hey. Not a bad time, I'm just getting back in." He heads for his bedroom while he talks, aware of the ticking clock. "Expecting company?" Kris's voice is perfectly innocent, the little fucker. He knows exactly what he's asking, he does this all the time, the perfect straight line that lets Adam infer whatever he wants. He shoulders open his bedroom door and wedges the phone under his ear so he can fling clothes into the closet with both hands. "It's cool," he says. "I have call waiting. Did you need something?" "Just wanted to touch base," he says. "You gonna be in the studio tomorrow? I wanted to play around with that riff we cooked up." Adam pulls the covers up over his bed and tries his best to smooth them down. "You know they're never gonna let us release that." "We can do it live," Kris shrugs. "We'll be at each others' concerts, won't we?" "Of course," Adam says indignantly. "I wouldn't miss it, honey, you know that." He can't quite hear Kris grin, but he's sure it's happening. "So you'll be in tomorrow?" Adam tries to say no, he really tries, but Kris's invisible smile is too cute to pass up. As ever. As fucking always. " Fine ," he sighs, much put-upon. "I'll be in at two. Maybe four. I dunno, it'll depend on my company ." "Don't wear out your throat," Kris says kindly. The little fucker . Adam tugs leather away from his burgeoning erection. "Good night, Kris." "Night, Adam." The minute he ends the call, the phone lights up again. "Hello?" Adam asks cautiously. "Hey," Zach says softly. "I'm outside your building." "I'm here," Adam says, relieved. "Buzz, I'll let you in." "That's the idea," Zach smirks, and the line goes dead. Adam makes his way to the intercom, muttering to himself. "Assholes, assholes everywhere, and not a one to bend over the table. My life, ladies and gentlemen." The harsh blare sounds right away, and Adam leans on the door button. He's got a minute or two as the elevator rattles down to Zach, so he makes a final sweep of the place and determines that there's nothing else he can take care of without serious, concerted effort. He doesn't even bother going into the bathroom - if Zach isn't comfortable washing his hands in a makeup-streaked sink, he shouldn't have taken home the guy in glitter eyeshadow. When the light knock comes, Adam unlocks the door and lets it fall open as he goes into the kitchen. "Come on in," he says, opening the fridge door for a bottle of water. (It's the one indulgence he always gave himself, no matter how broke he was - bottled water in the fridge for emergencies.) He holds the bottle out to Zach. "You want one?" "I'm okay," he says, cautiously looking around. "This is your place?" The inflection is on the your . Adam lets cold water slice through him, then puts it down with a lusty sigh. "Yeah, just me. I had a roommate, but he moved out... what, a month ago? Something like that. I could cover the rent on my own, so I just left it alone." Zach leans a hip on the counter. "Miss him?" he asks gently, and fuck him for understanding, anyway. Adam sighs. "I don't really want to talk about it, but... yeah. Sometimes." Without a word, Zach comes over and pulls Adam into a warm hug. It's like he has no idea that he's supposed to be a one-night thing, a trick, here today, gone tomorrow. Adam hugs him hard, arms around his waist and face on his shoulder, surely smudging makeup on the smooth black shirt and failing to give a goddamn. Zach rubs a hand along the back of his neck, slow and kind. "Tell me what you need," he murmurs. "Should I stay or should I go?" Adam smiles against his shoulder. "If you go there will be trouble," he half-sings, and the words smudge along with his lips against the fabric. He can feel Zach grinning against his hair. "I don't mind a little trouble," he says, and curls his fingers into a fist. He tugs gently at Adam's hair, angling his head just so, and when they kiss it feels like a relief. Adam presses his body up against Zach's, loving the slide and bump at chest and thigh. He digs his fingers into the soft shirt, presses his palm against the curve of his spine and licks into his mouth. Zach tastes like mint and coke, and Adam groans softly. They bump into the counter together and Adam's hip stings a little from the knock it takes. Zach pushes him into the corner and braces his hands behind Adam's back, fitting their hips together. "Like this?" he asks softly, his voice dark and damp and heavy on Adam's lips. Zach pushes against him hard, grinding. "This what you want?" "Mm," Adam answers, gripping those lithe hips in his hands. Zach is slender enough that he can palm them the way he likes, the tips of his fingers digging just where it starts to get curved and plush, his thumbs right in the groove. "I like these," he murmurs back, trying to pull them into a good rhythm as he pushes his face into Zach's neck. Abruptly, Zach chuckles. Adam feels it vibrate against his mouth, and pulls back. "What?" he asks, smiling even though he's not really sure what's funny yet. "Tell me if I'm wrong," Zach says, rubbing a thumb over Adam's lips. "I'm not your usual type, am I?" He rolls his eyes. "Okay, no, not really, but I don't-" Zach's grinning. "Just humor me. Usually you go for, what... moderately adorable twinks, correct?" "Not at all," Adam says haughtily. "They're pretty damn adorable twinks, thank you very much. Is this about you being a raging top? Because I could tell that much when I took you home, actually, and it's cool. You can fuck me." His heart hammers in his chest, making his cool tone a lie. But Adam knew what he was looking for back at the club - something different enough to be new - so it was the truth. Zach's grin is so sharp in the dim light, so hungry and animal. It's crazy hot, but it makes Adam a little nervous. That it'd be like this, no, he hadn't seen that coming. Zach licks his bottom lip, bites at it. "I'll keep that offer in mind," he says softly. "But let's just take it one step at a time and see what happens, hm?" Adam considers, for a half second, what it would be like to fuck this man. Hot? Yes. Terrifying, maybe. God only fucking knows. He'd want to do it in his bedroom with all the lights on so he could remember it with clarity. He nods, feeling young and not at all like he's supposed to. Zach kisses him then, soft and sweet, and just as Adam's starting to get into the swing of soft and sweet, melting and warm, Zach pulls away and slides down onto his knees. Adam's belt makes a jingling sound as it comes undone, and he has to brace his feet on the floor and lean hard against the counter, his dick throbbing in anticipation. "God, yeah," he whispers, choking the sound down, and then remembers that he doesn't have to give a fuck about his neighbors anymore. He threads his fingers into hair that feels familiar, heavy with product and scent, just like his own. "Suck it," he says, a little stronger. "Patience," Zach whispers, and opens Adam's jeans by taking each side in a hand and jerking them apart. The zipper is angry and loud in the silent apartment, and when Zach leans forward to kiss Adam's belly, it feels as illicit and dangerous and thrilling as it did the first time Adam figured out what sex was. Zach licks him then, slow and hot and destructive. Adam's self control frays satisfyingly; he rolls his hips and abandons himself to the skittering electric feeling on his skin. It's blessed relief to let that mouth strip away his thoughts, and damn, but Zach is good at it - every time Adam starts comparing or getting wistful, there's a sweep of tongue or a scrape of teeth that startles him out of it. He watches it happen, the hint of pink in it, the black hair between his own fingers as he holds it back. He's running out of breath and it's been all of a minute, which is, yes, yes, exactly what he needs. "You smell like bubble gum," Zach murmurs, casually jerking his fist along Adam's dick. "It's. I have." Adam takes a second to make his brain catch up. "My friend got me a basket from Lush." Zach's hand slows and he looks up with a smile. "Nice." "I know; they have great makeup remover." Adam's cheeks hurt with the width of his smile. He hasn't smiled during sex in a long time, and he's reveling in it. Zach rolls his eyes and stands up, takes Adam by the hand. That too is a kind of luxury, something you only do when it's new and fun. "All right, princess," Zach says, drawing him along. "Where's your bedroom?" "Through there." Adam points, then follows. He feels like he made the right decision tonight. He'll let Zach fuck him and make him forget. It'll be good, he'll be moving on, and tomorrow he'll start things off with a shower and some coffee instead of more sleep. He'll write something that isn't an angry breakup song. Zach pushes him onto the bed with a hand in the middle of his chest. Adam's back thumps against the mattress and he lets his arms fall above his head, his knee come up. He rests a boot against the covers and listens to his body buzzing with sex. "God," Zach says, and Adam looks up to see the controlled hunger in his eyes. "The things I could fucking do to you." Adam smirks and plants a foot in the middle of Zach's chest. "Go on," he says, enjoying being prey instead of predator. "Unless you like it with boots on." Zach gets this contemplative look as he draws his fingers along the chrome and leather, looking for a zipper or clasp. "Tell me something," he says. "Something about yourself. When you have a bad day, how do you unwind?" "Is this so you can get me an appropriate post-fuck thank you gift? Miss Manners suggests jewelry. I like chunky silver in rings, but rings imply something, don't you think? Better go with earrings." The leather begins to release his leg in a slow, sinful relaxing of tension. "Cute," Zach smiles. "Now answer the question." Adam groans as those fingers slip inside, underneath, pressing and stroking soreness away from his heel and the ball of his foot. "Unh. I get one of these, if I can." Zach tosses boot and sock aside, and pats his chest. "Next." Obliging him with the other boot, Adam squints contemplatively at the ceiling. "I don't know, really. Watch TV, maybe read a book. Honestly, I don't get a lot of free time these days." "Hm." Zach drops the boot to the ground, then climbs up to straddle Adam's hips with the kind of fluid skill usually reserved for the Cirque du Soleil . Adam lifts an eyebrow, impressed, but Zach ignores that in favor of starting to unbutton his own black shirt. "See, the thing about you is that you're far more tightly wound than you seem to be, but less tightly wound than you think you are. I didn't get that at first, but it's becoming clearer." Adam drops his hands to Zach's hips, just by instinct. It's also a half-conscious move to roll his hips up against the heat, pressing tight against another body. He barely even notices it. "And just what makes you think I want to listen to a total stranger tell me what my problem is?" Zach laughs as he spreads his shirt open like wings, and shrugs it off his shoulders. He's much more solidly muscled than Adam expected; he looks so skinny, but he's built in his own way. "Please," Zach smirks. "Find me a gay man who doesn't want to talk about himself." "Point," Adam grins, rubbing his thumbs in slow circles. "By all means, proceed." Zach pulls at the hem of Adam's shirt, helping him to get it over his head. "What does this mean for you, you may ask." The fabric drags over Adam's nose; he shakes out his hair and flops back onto the bed, letting his fingers coast up Zach's bare chest. There's a strong tan there that can't have come from the sun. "Is this for a role?" he asks, tugging lightly at one nipple. Zach tugs one of his in retaliation, quite a bit harder. Adam jumps, laughing, and covers it with one of his hands. "Pay attention," Zach tells him, just a hint of a smile on his face. "I'm trying to tell you how you're giving yourself an ulcer." "Ulcers come from bacteria, not stress," Adam informs him. "That's bullshit psychodrama invented by theater queens to get Evian in their dressing rooms." Fingers come tight around his balls, warm and hot and almost too firm to be pleasurable... but not quite. Adam gasps hard, and Zach's face is suddenly right there beside his, lips brushing light against his cheek. "I feel like you're not giving me the attention I'm looking for." Adam turns his face and finds that mouth with his, gets a hand in that thick black hair. Zach opens up, gives back as good as he gets, and fuck yes, that's hot. Adam licks his bottom lip, sucks his tongue - how's that for some fucking attention? "That's better," Zach murmurs, when they break apart. His hand's eased up now, circling slow and hard over Adam's cock. "You have a problem, true, but I have a cure. Are you listening, because this is important." "Mm-hm." Adam is kissing along his jaw, drinking in the smell of clean cologne and the rasp of beard along his tongue. "I want you to take this," Zach says, gripping Adam's cock with a firm hand. It's perfect pressure, thumb slipping in the slick just under the head, and Adam's eyes drift closed. It's so fucking good. Zach's throat is warm against the bridge of his nose, and it vibrates pleasantly with the depth of his voice. "And I want you to fuck me with it." "Yeah," he mumbles, and he pushes Zach's shoulder so he can get up at him, get his clothes off and - wait. He lifts his head, confused. "But I thought..." Zach touches his face, gentle and enticing. His face is completely serious, shadowed and intense. "You need to fuck someone that isn't your ex. Someone whose heart you won't break, who knows what you need from them and can offer it honestly. I'm a little surprised one of your other friends hasn't already done this for you, but... I guess I'm lucky." Adam runs his tongue over his lips, a nervous habit. He lets his hand slide down Zach's ribs, settles it over his hip. "I'm not sure I'm ready," he whispers, his eyes on Zach's mouth because he's not brave enough to meet those eyes. "It wasn't so long ago." Zach kisses him, soft and sweet. "You're not fragile," he says, and lays his hand over Adam's heart. "You're stronger than you think." Adam laughs, a little bitterness coloring the edges. "How the fuck would you know?" he asks, keeping his voice a secret between them. "Are you kidding?" Zach smiles. "You tell the whole world who you are every minute of the day. You're Adam Fucking Lambert, and you'll be Adam Fucking Lambert until the day you die, no matter what they say or how scared you get. I sent your table a round because they were drinking with you , do you get it?" Adam's breath is unsteady. He holds onto Zach's hip too hard, knows it'll leave a mark but can't let go. "I'm just a guy," he says, and it might be a protest or it might be agreeing, he's not sure yet. "Sometimes it seems like who I am is bigger than me. You know? Like I'm... faking, even though I hate fakers more than fucking anything, but... but then sometimes I really am that guy, that's really me. Sometimes I think that's who I am, I can be all of it, but I'm not sure, and maybe Drake left because I can't be all of it at once, the tour and the record and a fucking boyfriend at the same time and I-" "Stop," Zach murmurs against his mouth, arms around him. "Stop talking. Breathe." Adam does that, deliberately drawing breath as he kisses Zach back, as he pulls apart belt and zipper and pushes fabric away. This is natural, familiar; he gets Zach's cock in his hand and it's long and hot and a good weight in his palm. He takes the taste of mints off Zach's tongue and lets himself groan and whimper and make all the goddamn noise he wants. It's his bed now, anyway, fuck. "It's okay," Zach tells him, lips blurry and smeared against his own. His hips move in slow thrusts, pressing his dick into the circle of Adam's fingers, encouraging and patient. It feels like the first time, like Adam's first time; he's unaccountably nervous. "Don't worry about me," Zach says, a warm whisper. "You're going to be fine." Adam laughs and tightens his grip. The soft gasp he earns is deeply satisfying. "I hope better than fine ," he says, and braces a foot against the bed so he can roll them over. Zach laughs again when he's on his back, that lighthearted part of him showing through again. It makes Adam frown, because he can't quite tell who he's in bed with or who he's talking to. Like fucking a Magic Eye. "What?" Zach asks, touching Adam's face with a thumb. "What?" Adam kisses him, licking at the ridges inside his mouth before sliding down. He licks and bites a little, and when he's done with a pink nipple and the flat bellybutton, he rests his chin on smooth skin. "You have to be on camera," he allows, a little breathless as he looks over flushed, sweaty skin. "But you can mark me up if you want to. They kind of expect it." Zach lifts his head up to look down, meet Adam's eyes. His breath is coming faster now, a little less controlled. "I'll keep that in mind," he says, and winds hard fingers in Adam's hair. He gives a sharp little tug, and Adam lets his eyes close and his teeth grit together, like he does on stage. Zach tugs a little harder, and Adam pushes him off long enough to duck down and get that cock in his mouth. He hollows his cheeks, sucking hard. This won't last for long, but he tries to make it wet and tight and intense. Adam learned a long time ago that he liked to get a reaction, to make people shout, and that goes on stage and off. Zach isn't exactly bringing the roof down, but the more Adam gets to know this quicksilver person, the more he thinks that the barely-there growling is better than a lot of people get. And it's hot as fuck anyway, the way the sound comes when Zach thrusts his hips, the counterpoint it makes to fingernails through Adam's hair. He pulls away long enough to tease a little, flicking his tongue where it does the most good. "How do you like it?" he asks, and his voice scrapes the bottom of the tenor range. He can never get this low without sucking cock and he can never resist talking, just to hear it. "Want me to eat you out first? Finger you? Tell me." Zach presses his hips up, pushing his cock against Adam's lips so it slides just so. He's holding Adam's head for it, which, okay, that's why people like that from this end. "Bet you'd like that," Zach says, and his voice too has slipped down low. "Bet you want to make me so hot for it that I beg, like your boys." Adam can't imagine it, but the thought gets him in the balls anyway. "Wouldn't say no," he agrees, sucking hard at the skin under his mouth. "Give me your fingers," Zach instructs, his words just as slow and meticulous as the way he's grinding his cock against Adam's lips. "I want them until I'm ready, and then I want you to fuck me when I say. How I say." Adam scrambles in a drawer for lube and a condom, and then sinks back to his knees at the bedside. His heart is doing conga drum rhythms and he can't really breathe right. There's fucking hot sex, and then there's this . He kisses at Zach's cock again as he digs his fingers into fabric to pull it down and away. "Talk to me," he mumbles, lips busy as he pours lube into his fingers. "I'll do anything you fucking want so long as you keep talking , fuck." Zach give a satisfied groan as Adam rubs slick over delicate skin, circling firmly. "Noted," he murmurs, and hooks one heel on the edge of Adam's bed so he can spread his thighs. It's so fucking smug that it pricks Adam's instincts, makes him push two fingers inside instead of one. He goes slow, he doesn't want it to hurt, but if Zach thinks he'll be all cool and unaffected in Adam's bed, he'll learn different. Fingers tighten hard in Adam's hair, pulling him - but Zach doesn't say stop. The message is clear: don't dish it out if you can't take it. Well Adam can take it, fuck you very much. He leans down to drag his tongue over Zach's balls, flick it in behind as he screws his fingers in. "That feel good?" he asks, letting his voice go deep and heavy into Zach's skin. "That what you wanted?" "Another," Zach insists, the demanding bitch. He cants his hips invitingly, the muscle along his thigh standing out hard in the light from the lamp. Adam's cock leaps so hard it smacks against his belly. Brad was not like Zach in any fucking way except for how he was queen of the sheets, ruler of his domain and any fucking body in it. Adam adds the requested finger and kisses the inside of Zach's thigh, worshiping at the altar. God, good sex is fantastic. Abruptly, Zach backs away. He's shifting to lie lengthwise on the mattress, so Adam stands up and pushes the rest of his clothes off. "Hey," Zach says, and Adam looks at him. His eyes are shadowed as he rubs an open hand across his stomach, shifts his hips to make himself comfortable. He looks over Adam like an old lover, intimate and familiar. "Come up here." Adam does that, crawls up onto the bed, lies down beside him and leans in for a thorough kiss. It's a bit of a surprise for Zach, but he takes it, and that's good, because Adam wasn't about to pass up a kiss after that look. It's a battle of tongue and will, melting them together and bringing their hands and hips into it. When they finally pull apart, Adam can feel the hitch in his breathing mirrored in Zach's. "Want you," he murmurs, letting his thumb brush over the ridge of that lean hip. He feels strong and heavy; maybe Zach's his type after all. Down to his thigh, light fingertips tracing inside. "Let me," he coaxes, and kisses again. "I'll make it so good, I promise." Zach kisses him back, allows all these touches like some kind of miracle. He's still so possessed of himself, and Adam wonders what it'll be like when he loses it. "Come fuck me," Zach says, his voice rough. He touches Adam's cheek as Adam shifts over him and palms his bicep to keep him from turning over. "Just like this," Adam says, his cheeks burning and his cock just barely brushing Zach's, so fucking good. "On your back. Let me have you like this." It's impossible, but Zach lifts a languid knee and breathes deep, his body open and ready. "You can," he says, permission given. Adam can barely see anything in those black eyes, and he's really fucking looking. He kisses Zach again, hard, so he can at least see the way the red rises on those lips. Some kind of proof. It's not everything he wants, but it's something. With shaking fingers, he puts on a condom and slicks up. His fingers are buzzing and he's not really breathing right. He looks up at Zach's face and for a half second he freaks completely out. What made Zach do this? Why isn't he out in the press? Will he even like Adam when this is over? He's not ready. This isn't him, fucking some random guy when he isn't even, no, he just, he fucking can't. "Hey," Zach says, reaching up to cup the back of Adam's neck. There's a flash of mercury as he turns into the caring, understanding, mellow Zach who wouldn't hurt a fly. "Don't worry about it," he murmurs, so soft and sweet. "Kiss me a little." Adam's stomach is flipping butterflies, but he leans down anyway because it's just a kiss. A kiss won't hurt, not now. He tastes warmth on Zach's lips, warmth Adam put there himself, and that's comforting. He eats it away, kisses Zach's cheek and temple and the corner of his eye. "Promise me," he says, not really knowing what he's saying. "Later we'll do something else. I don't care what, or when. Just... something." Zach laughs, sweet and warm as he traces his fingers over the dip of Adam's spine. "I just heard backstage passes , I don't know about you." "Of course, if you want. I'd love to have you there." Adam can't help but smile along. Their heads are bent together, smiles an inch apart; nobody can get them in here. It's so fucking nice. He's slipping between Zach's thighs before he really knows it. Zach lifts to meet him, raises a knee so Adam can hook his hand under it. "Go on," he murmurs, so serious as he rubs his thumb across Adam's mouth. "Slow and shallow." Adam laughs and sucks that thumb into his mouth. Zach fucks him with it, and that's good, Adam takes that because he's carefully pressing his cock against the slick little hole and thrusting his hips, so soft, so cautious. Again and again he makes pressure, just a little more each time until finally it seems like Zach will give and he pushes a little harder. The head of his dick pops past muscle, instantly surrounding him in pressure and heat, and Adam turns his head away from Zach's hand. "Oh, fuck," he gasps, his eyes fluttering closed. "If you come, I will beat you senseless." Zach's voice is destroyed, and Adam has to look; he's lying back on the pillow, eyes closed with tension and reddened mouth open, shivering with the breaths he takes. His hair is back from his face, pure clean lines, the smudge of dark lashes on his cheeks. "You are so fucking gorgeous," Adam breathes. He presses a little deeper inside and hears the catch in Zach's groan. Sharp fingernails press into his ass, but Adam ignores it and holds still. "Easy," he whispers, kissing the shadow of beard along Zach's jaw. "It'll come back." Zach scowls, but it's true. After a second, Adam can feel him relaxing, remembering how this goes. He tries a slow, shallow thrust and watches Zach sigh, the frown line between his eyebrows not quite smoothing out, but not deepening. "So good," he murmurs, rocking his hips until Zach starts moving against him, pulling him closer. In Adam's chest there's a knot of feeling curled warm and so good; he kisses Zach's mouth, holds his fist curled loosely so Zach can fuck into it. He can feel scratches rising on his shoulders and sides, feel hot half-circles on his neck and chest, and it's all nowhere near as good as the tight clamp around his cock, the sounds that die behind Zach's gritted teeth. They slip in each other's sweat now, Adam stripped raw, and his hand stutters on Zach's body as he feels the desperate need crescendo in him. "So fucking good," he groans, voice scratched to shit. "Go on," Zach grits back, cradling Adam's body in his own. "Come, baby, do it." That's all Adam can take. He slams his hips, fucking like he's on stage and there are thousands of people shouting his name, hearing the roar in his ears and the buzz in his fingers and throat and hips, and when he comes it's a final note in a perfect song. He shakes through it, panting when it lets him go, and he feels like he's been washed clean. The world shifts as Zach gently pushes him around; Adam's a rag doll, so it's all good. Adam's on his back in a flash, Zach kneeling there beside his head with hands on the headboard. Adam knows this, loves this, yes; he wraps an arm around Zach's hips and opens his mouth, takes him as deep as he can and presses a slick finger back inside. "Oh, fuck, yeah," Zach snarls, and he fucks Adam's mouth like he owns it. Right this second, he kind of does, so Adam tries to move his tongue, to suck as best he can around the thick, hot length of it. "Oh, take it," Zach's murmuring, his hands gentle on Adam's face, brushing just under his eye. "Take it, baby, just like that. So fucking good at this, they wish they could fucking see you, oh, oh, oh yeah..." The burst of come is no surprise. Adam feels it coming and swallows what he can, holding Zach up after because he goes boneless in Adam's arms. He finds himself grinning like an idiot as he helps Zach lie down, watches this newly beloved body gasp for breath, jerk and twitch when Adam's hands brush the sensitive places. He wipes his mouth with his fingers, kisses Zach's forehead and then swings off the bed and into the bathroom to ditch the condom and wash his hands. In the mirror, he can see his eyeliner's streaked down across his cheek. He remembers Zach rubbing a thumb there, just a minute ago, just before he came. Adam touches his own fingers to the spot, rubs the excess black away out of habit, and wanders back into the room to flop on the bed. "Don't usually fuck guys in eyeliner, huh?" Zach's staring up at the ceiling, a hand behind his head, lazy as a lion in the sun. The sex flush is lingering on his cheeks, chest and shoulders, and it's glowing and beautiful. "It was definitely novel. I could change your face with my hands. It was intimidating, but... yes, I think a turn-on." Adam turns on his side, props his head on one hand and smiles. "Who are you thinking about putting in eyeliner? Don't even lie, everybody knows someone." Zach's smile is shy, and delightful for that. "My crush from work," he admits. "He'd probably do it, too; he's completely shameless." "You can borrow mine," Adam smiles. "Just send me pictures." The laugh he gets is unexpectedly loud. Zach waves a hand as though to indicate the dismissal of what he's about to say as a hopeless cause. "He'd even let me. Ut supra. " Adam doesn't know what that means, but he thinks he can guess from context. He'll google it later. He rubs a hand over his head and sighs. "You know, at times like this, I kind of wish I smoked. That was fucking amazing." "Thanks," Zach says, offhand and nice about it. "It's been a while - that way, at least." "I could tell," Adam says appreciatively. "You wanna stay over?" Zach slants a warm look at him. "If you don't mind. I have an early call, but this is closer to work and I don't want to fight my way down Sunset at rush hour." "Yeah, of course," Adam says, and leans down to kiss Zach's temple. He plans his sentence carefully, but he thinks it says everything he wants to say - inviting, warm, and firmly friendly. He owes Zach all that and more. "I'm gonna sleep in, but you're welcome to anything you want in the kitchen." Zach yawns jaw-crackingly wide, laying the back of his hand over his mouth. "If you have passable coffee, I'll survive." Adam grins at him, and then flips over to set the alarm. "It's possible. What time?" "Seven. Shit, I don't have a toothbrush." Adam hesitates only a moment. "You can have my new one," he says. "It's in the medicine cabinet. But you owe me a goddamn toothbrush." A firm hand sparks off Adam's bare hip. "Diva." As there's no arguing with that, Adam sets the alarm and then hits the light. The next morning, Adam wakes up to the harsh buzz of the alarm and slaps the shit out of it until it shuts up. He feels Zach get up and head for the bathroom, and falls back asleep immediately. He's not sure how long it is until he wakes again, but when he does the house is empty. He gets up and pads into the bathroom. There's toothbrush packaging in the trashcan and a note on the mirror in jet eyeliner: IOU. He smiles and leaves it there as he cleans up. It should be good for making Scarlett explode with curiosity later. In the kitchen, Adam finds his coffee maker still half full and warm. He pours a cup and fills it full of sugar, drinks half of it while he checks his messages. There's one from Kris about an hour ago, reminding him that he has to drag his worthless ass out to the studio today, 'cause a promise is a promise. Adam smiles and texts back something snappy about Kris's obsession with his ass being inappropriate. It's deeply satisfying; he hasn't been able to come up with a decent comeback for Kris in weeks. There's one from an unknown number at nine this morning: going w friends for dinner tomorrow night you should come along or we could play monopoly Adam peers at the number and checks it against the ones from his caller list last night. He smiles, and programs Zach's name into his phone so it'll identify him correctly. He texts back: Cant im in studio. Nx time 4 sure. Best bridge partner ull ever have. Finally, there's three from Brad and two from Danielle, all from last night and all demanding to know where he disappeared to and with whom. Adam judiciously erases them all and then sends Brad a winking face with no context. He then puts his phone on vibrate, tosses it on the couch and sets about getting ready to hit the studio. He's playing around with a few new bars in the shower, something with a badass edge to it, but fun; a mid-seventies Bowie kind of feel. It actually doesn't sound too bad.
