while with his gun the pagan angel rose to say

Fic: Babydoll - Adam/Tommy

Fic: Babydoll - Adam/Tommy

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For tuke18, who gave me an idea and a hilarious nickname for Tommy Joe, and I ran with it. Oh, how I ran with it. Hope you enjoy! :3

Glamdom. Adam Lambert/Tommy Joe Ratliff. NC-17. ~4700 words. Crossdressing.
Turns out it's pretty easy to find a pair of cute, girly heels in size ten, once you know where to shop.



Turns out it's pretty easy to find a pair of cute, girly heels in size ten, once you know where to shop. They're bright coral with ribbons that wind around his ankles and end in long, draping bows. He wasn't so sure about his ability to walk in the damn things, but the platform totally helps, and they're barely higher than his creepers. He doesn't fall flat on his ass on the trip from the cab to the club, anyway, so he counts that as a win.

A step inside the club proper, heat like a sauna smacks him square in the face, making him so fucking glad he skipped the little sweater thing that came with the dress. He'd tried going for something slinky and sexy, or classic and gorgeous like Raja pulls off so effortlessly, but over and over again he'd been drawn back to the lacy, frilly things, stuff he's always liked on his girls. A shrink would probably tell him that all this time, he's been wanting to date his mirror. Fuck that. He's got something way better.

So it's girly heels and a cute a-line dress with spaghetti straps leaving his arms, his legs from a few inches above the knee, and a good half of his back bare. His hair's in soft curls tumbling down one side of his face, his makeup done to match, lips glossed pink and eyes dusted in warm summer colours. He even kinda likes the way his tattoos look against it all, stark and shocking like his piercings, like his flat chest and untucked dick. He sticks out like a daisy in a rosebush.

Finding Adam through the crush takes a little more manoeuvring than he's used to. Instead of sliding out of his way like usual, people press in. Hands graze his thighs and his back, and the attention's cool, it's that kinda place, but holy shit, he didn't think there'd be so fucking many of them. By the time he spills out on the other side of the room where the tables are, he's pretty sure at least seven people out there know the only thing he's wearing under this is a scrap of cotton and lace. Spotting Adam a few tables from the bar, Tommy hightails it over there like his ass is on fire.

"Hey," he says, tapping Adam's shoulder. "Scoot back, man."

Shoving his chair back half a dozen inches, Adam's smile turns to open-mouthed shock as Tommy drops down in his lap. While he's busy gaping, Tommy fights with the hem of his dress, tugging it back down so nobody else can draw his junk from freakin' memory. Crossing his legs would probably work best, but his perch is kinda precarious while Adam's not holding on to him, so he tucks his knees together and drops his hands into his lap.

"Tommy," Adam squeaks.

"Hey," Tommy repeats, and goes in for a peck hello.

Adam's hands come up to grab his shoulders. "Oh my god, you. No, no, stand back up. Let me-- Wow, Tommy, wow."

Since he'd practiced, Tommy pulls off a little twirl, then drops straight back down into Adam's lap where it's relatively safe. How the hell was he supposed to know this crowd would go for the cute femmeboy thing as hard as they go for glamour queens? "Hang the fuck onto me," he mutters.

One of Adam's arms loops securely around Tommy's waist. He's smiling wider than the cat that got the cream and the fucking canary too when he tilts Tommy's face his way, taking in the makeup, touching the softness of Tommy's hair before his fingers trail over bare collarbones. "You're in heels, Tommy Joe."

Tommy kicks up one leg, toe pointed. "Not bad, right?"

Palm settling warm above Tommy's knee, Adam says, "You shaved."

Tommy can't help a grin as he slings his arm around Adam's shoulders to cuddle closer. He's totally all decked out for some prime cuddling. Tonight, he is so the girl. He's gonna make Adam get up and buy him drinks and everything, milk those pesky gender stereotypes for all they're worth. "Pretty good, right?"

Adam leans back again, pushing Tommy out a bit to get another good look at him. "You're fucking adorable. And hot, how did you do that? Did Sutan do your face? He did, didn't he."

"Might've given me some pointers." Something about the dress, or maybe wearing it while perched in Adam's lap, gives Tommy this weird urge to wiggle happily. He settles for kicking his feet a bit and playing with the hair soft at Adam's nape, no product weighing it down. "I was gonna do the whole glamour gal thing. Think I landed smack in 50s all-American instead."

"It's cute," Adam says, thumb stroking Tommy's thigh, inching under the hem bit by bit. "It's really, really cute. I like it."

"Yeah?" Tommy maybe had his doubts. But he liked it, felt good in it, and Adam's always going on and on about how owning an outfit instead of being owned by it is sexy as fuck. He lets his thighs part a fraction, only enough for the dress to dip slightly between, a move that's totally worked on him way too many times before. It's not much yet, but Adam tracing those tiny circles on the inside of his thigh is starting to get to him, and pretty soon, thanks to the super-thin cotton weave, anybody who looks at him twice is gonna know it. "You wanna take your girl out for a dance?"

Adam's eyes go big and wide and round, white showing all around the edges. A few hoots and hollers go up around the table, and the back of Tommy's neck heats at the reminder they've got an audience. Like, an audience that's paying macroscopic amounts of attention to exactly where Adam's fingers are wandering. Tommy's got no issues with some good ol' PDA, and hey, he came out here all dressed up to ambush Adam instead of making it a stay at home date. He figured on some staring.

"You don't dance," Adam says dumbly.

"If my man wants me to," Tommy says, shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

"Your man," Adam huffs, half a disbelieving laugh. Grabbing onto Tommy with one hand and the chair's seat with the other, Adam scoots it back in closer to the table. It's one of those chairs where the low, rounded back extends out to become armrests, and it's way, way lower than the table, made for lounging in over by the couches instead of hauled up here by the booths. Addressing the table at large, he asks, "Who loves me enough to go get my girl a drink so I can keep an eye on her?"

Pip, probably the looniest guy in the bunch--and that's saying something given Adam's crowd--raises his hand as he shuffles out of the booth, already halfway to the bar when he calls, "On it!"

Tommy purses his lips in a low whistle. "Awesome. Also, dude." He backhands Adam's shoulder. "What the fuck, keep an eye on me." Like he's gonna fucking wander off in this getup.

"Pretty little thing like you, all alone?" Adam says, smile going lopsided as his hand creeps a little further up Tommy's thigh, rucked-up hem hidden beneath the table. "I'm staking my claim right here and now, sweetheart."

Tommy absolutely has no complaints about any staking Adam wants to do. Progressive, self-confident superstar or not, Adam's got this territorial streak a mile fucking wide. Family, friends, friends of friends, they all fall within it, ex-boyfriends and even fans sometimes, like the time some Westboro douche got all up in some girl's face and she stood there, shell-shocked, getting yelled at while her friends tried to step in. Adam was on his way over there to hustle the guy along himself before Neil cut in, sent some security to handle it. Adam's got total white-knight syndrome, and it's so fucking sweet. Really dumb sometimes, but sweet.

Sinking down lower, Tommy rests his head on Adam's shoulder. "You do what you gotta do," he says, and parts his thighs a bit more, invites the sweep of Adam's fingers closer to his junk.

A split-second of surprise registers on Adam's face, then Pip's back, setting something giant and fruity-looking on a napkin in front of them. "For the prettiest girl at the table," he says with a flourish.

"Dude, I'm the only girl," Tommy says, staring at the pretty-in-pink concoction. "What the hell is it?"

"Fucking delicious, that's what." Pip plops his elbows on the table and leans forward eagerly. "Try it."

Kinda doubtful, Tommy wrangles the straw around and takes a cautious sip. Pure tropical heaven explodes in his mouth, heavy and hazy like noon on the beach. There's alcohol in there and lots of it, warmly mellow, and he sucks harder, cheeks hollowing.

Pip moans, "Oh yeah, baby, there it is."

Almost snorting booze, Tommy pulls off and flips him the finger. "Fuck you, man."

Stretching a hand out across the table, chin propped up in the other one, Pip says dreamily, "Was it good for you? That was so good for me."

"Hey," Tommy says to Adam, tucking his drink against his chest and taking another quick sip. It's not a respectable drink at all, but fuck, is it tasty. "You gonna let him get away with that shit?"

Adam has that dazed look on his face he gets sometimes when he's watching the words coming out of Tommy's mouth instead of actually listening to them. Hiking up both eyebrows, Tommy closes his lips primly around the straw again, and waits. And drinks some more since it's right there and all.

"Technically," Adam eventually says, once the silence around the table has gone from interested to completely rapt, "he did buy you the drink, so I guess he can watch you all he wants."

"I am totally not that kind of girl," Tommy says, spreading his legs even wider, biting at the inside of his cheek when Adam's chest fills sharply. "No fifty-cent peep show here."

"No, no," Adam says quickly, fingertips grazing Tommy's balls, his eyes getting that heavy look again when he finds the edge of lace. "Definitely not that kind of girl at all."

Taking a quick glance around the table, at the two guys at the other end semi-involved in a conversation while watching him and Adam at the same time, Tommy knows they're not fooling anybody. But unless one of them hunkers down to see Adam's hand up his skirt, it's easy enough to pretend. And hey, it's not like he's slapped his junk down on the table or anything. It's a little friendly petting. No big deal.

Something one of the guys says catches Adam's attention, and he launches into this big spiel about sustainable fashion and Oscar Wilde and, Tommy is pretty sure, North Africa. He's not sure what those three things have in common, and bad, socially-unconscious move or not, he doesn't exactly care at the moment. Adam keeps tracing the edge of his panties with one thumb over and over and fucking over again, so close to his dick but not close enough. And panties, no matter how cute they are, are not meant to hold in a guy sprouting what's shaping up to be a pretty epic boner. He scoots down further, trying to get Adam to commit to more than a tease, but Adam moves his hand down, keeps on talking with this smug quirk at the corner of his mouth.

A couple minutes later, Tommy's drink down to the dregs, Adam asks, "You doing okay there, pretty baby? Want another?"

I want your hand on my dick flits through Tommy's mind. He tongues his straw instead, like he's thinking about it, then sets the glass down to sling his other arm around Adam's neck. It turns his body partway in to face Adam's, and the hand Adam hasn't got up his skirt slides down automatically to palm his ass. While Adam watches, bemused, Tommy uses a couple fingers on Adam's chin to tilt him exactly the way Tommy wants for a lazy kiss and almost ruins it with a grin as he makes a sweetly surprised noise at Tommy not letting him take over. Bracing a hand on the chair's arm to lift up, get some extra height, Tommy pushes his tongue into Adam's mouth. He completely forgets about the skirt and brings his leg up, twisting to get closer, and right as Adam shoves the chair back to give him the room to crawl on up, finally getting with the program to suck on his tongue in that fucking awesome way, Pip says, "Holy shit," really, really loudly.

Too late, Tommy tugs his dress back down. "Aw, fuck."

Adam, the fucker, cracks up. "Baby, did you flash the table?"

"Shut up," Tommy grumbles. He levels a threatening finger at Pip. "And you, fuck off and get me another drink."

Pip catapults out of the booth. "Anything that gets me another look at that pretty package."

"Ain't gonna happen!" Tommy shouts after him, and Pip waves it off, bouncing through the crowd like he's totally jacked.

"It is awfully pretty," Adam says, smoothing Tommy's skirt down so it's snug against his dick, showing it off. Tommy's no slouch in the size department, not even compared to what Adam's toting around, but holy fuck, the skirt makes it look like he's seriously packing. Really seriously packing. And Adam's rubbing his thigh again, right below the hemline, and it's making wet cotton rub deliciously against the head of his dick, so it's totally not his fault he makes to grab himself through the skirt. 'Cause the thing is, right, jokes about his legs in the air and all that shit aside, he is not a girl. He's a pretty guy rocking a pretty dress, and he wants to stuff his dick in Adam's cockteasing mouth.

"C'mon," Tommy says, shoving at Adam until the chair scoots back far enough that he can clamber up. "We're gonna go powder my fucking nose."

Busy staring at Tommy's crotch, Adam doesn't move.

Tommy grabs Adam by the front of the shirt and hauls him up. "Now, big guy."

"Oh my god," Adam says, stumbling along beside him, fumbling to get their fingers laced together.

"Yeah? You like that shit?" Ducking around somebody's flailing elbow, Tommy turns around to walk backwards in front of Adam, trusting Adam's hand flying to his hip to keep him from breaking his neck. He palms his cock through the skirt, dirty and kinda fucked up. "How 'bout that, you like that?"

"Oh my god," Adam says again, reverently, and next thing Tommy's knows, he's up against a wall with Adam plastered to his front trying to kiss him, groping at his thigh again, hiking it up to press in between Tommy's legs. "I love it. I love that your cock is right there, baby, so easy for me to get my hands all over it."

Tommy barks a laugh, tail end of it sliced off as Adam bites at his neck. "Not out here, you're fucking not."

"Please," Adam says, promises, "Just a little," with his hand already sneaking in to inch up Tommy's skirt. "Nobody'll see."

Adam's got fucking magic hands, so maybe, maybe, Tommy's tempted. But he's got plans. Really fucking awesome plans. "Nope," he says, catching Adam's wrist. "You're comin' with me."

With an adorable whine, Adam stumps along grumpily, at least until he figures out where Tommy's dragging him. "This isn't dancing," he says as Tommy shoves open the bathroom door.

"Fuck no, it ain't." Quickly checking under the two stalls to make sure the place is empty, Tommy jerks his chin at the door Adam's sagging against, staring at Tommy's ass. "Lock that thing."

"Appropriating bathrooms is egotistical," Adam says, flicking the lock. "You're gonna get me such bad press." He really doesn't sound like he's complaining.

"Gonna be totally worth it." Figuring they've got ten minutes, fifteen max before somebody gets pissed off over the superstar diva taking over the bathroom for a quickie, Tommy wads up two handfuls of the dress's skirt, hauls the whole thing up and off over his head. Left in skimpy black panties not doing a damn thing to cover his cock and balls anymore, and a pair of ribbony heels, Tommy leans back against the sink.

Adam makes some sort of high-pitched moaning noise Tommy's honestly never heard before, and in half a second flat, Adam's kissing him again, hands fucking everywhere at once, stroking down Tommy's back and over his ass and up the insides of his legs, nudging them wider so Adam can reach between, rub behind Tommy's balls and up over his hole.

"Not gonna," Tommy says, locking his knees, "fucking heels, gonna fall flat on my ass if you keep doing that."

Biting at Tommy's collarbone where the dress won't hide it, Adam grabs Tommy by the backs of both thighs and hefts him up onto the countertop by the sinks, perched right on the edge. Tommy's stomach pulls off one of those excited three-point flips it always trots out when Adam starts manhandling him, and this time around he's the one spreading his knees wide as Adam braces a hand on the counter, bends down to lick his cock where the lace isn't covering it.

"Fucking finally," Tommy groans, sinking back so he's got the best view in the house. He hadn't been totally on board with the panties, but Sutan had given him this look that said honey, please, and whatever, it's not like he gave a shit. With Adam down there mouthing his dick through them, tucking the lacy top under his balls so his junk's laid out on a silver platter, he's gotta admit, Sutan knows his stuff.

"So fucking gorgeous," Adam says, catching Tommy's cock to rub it over his mouth, lick at it and give it a sweet little suck, so fucking good Tommy tries to bring one foot up to brace on the counter, rock into it. He misses by a mile, heel banging against the edge instead, and curses when Adam laughs at him, catches his leg behind the knee to keep it up. "Oh hey, no," he says, pushing Tommy's hand away when Tommy goes to jack his own dick. "That's mine."

"Better fucking do something with it quick, 'cause in about three minutes I'm going off without you."

"Pushy," Adam accuses, and grabs Tommy's cock at the base, angles it straight up and sinks right down on it easy as breathing, a shocking rush of hot and wet and so fucking good when he starts sucking. And keeps on sucking, no fucking playing around, just pressure and more pressure until it's like he's dragged all the air out of Tommy's lungs. Usually he likes to lick, likes to nibble a bit, get Tommy arching up desperately, likes to enjoy the whole package deal. Tommy clutches at Adam's shoulders, squeezing hard and harder, expecting a break, hoping for one because it's almost too much. But Adam doesn't let up, shoves him straight over that razor-thin line into sensation so sharp it actually hurts, and he's twisting away from it, trying to push into it, gone from doing a pretty good job at calling the shots to totally and completely useless.

Then when Adam finally does fucking stop, Tommy gasps out, "No, fuck, what're you-"

"You're really loud, Tommy Joe," Adam says, smirking as he comes in for a kiss, soft and wet, then another, one more with Tommy's bottom lip caught in his teeth. Fingers creep in under the ruined bit of cotton Tommy's still somehow wearing, rub into the crack of his ass, thick and strong pushing at his hole. "Makes me want to fuck you."

They so don't have time. They're in a public washroom, for fuck's sake. But Adam's giving him that look, sweet and happy and really fucking dirty as Adam licks a few fingers wet, slides them right back where they were and pushes one slow and easy up inside Tommy's ass. Any second now somebody's gonna bang on that door, cuss them out and go get the management. Any second, and Tommy's gonna point that out, he really, really is, as soon as Adam stops sucking on his tongue and fingering him fucking perfectly, deep, rocking push against his insides, full-up ache making his cock throb.

"See, that makes me think you want me to fuck you," Adam says, kissing his shoulder, his throat when his head falls back. "When you take two fingers like that, and all you can do is moan for me."

"Jesus," Tommy says, clenching up on reflex. There's no way that's two already. They fuck around a lot, sure, but there's just no fucking way. Not as easy as that on just a scrap of spit.

Reaching for his back pocket, Adam hauls out his wallet, tosses it on the counter beside Tommy's hand. "Wet's in there."

Like somebody else is driving, Tommy fumbles through the billfold to find the small packet. There's a condom too, a couple actually, but he pretends he doesn't see those, tearing open the lube and pushing it into Adam's free hand. Adam knows, though. He knows, and he grins like he likes it, likes it a whole fucking lot.

The bathroom's got mood lighting, which is kinda cracked, but makes the glisten on Adam's fingers hotter, makes the slick push and curve of them past muscle somehow even better. Crammed on the countertop, Tommy's barely got any leverage to ride Adam's fingers. He doesn't even get the chance to really try, Adam quickly fucking into him a few times before drawing off to wet his dick, line it up and push.

"Fuck," Tommy grits out, hand scrabbling across the counter for something to hold onto, knocking over the fancy-ass soap dispenser. He's not ready at all, hardly loose enough to take the head wedging him wide, and he grabs onto the tap, groans as Adam pulls him even further off the edge, right onto Adam's dick, slow enough that there's no sharp burn, only stretch and ache and fuck, Adam's not stopping, not letting him breathe.

"Come on, baby," Adam says, low, filthy purr as his fingers tug at the scrap of Tommy's underwear to snap the band and toss them to the floor. "You can take it, loosen up for me."

"Oh fuck you," Tommy groans, shoving sweat-damp hair off his forehead, letting his legs drop, hooked over Adam's arms. It is really fucking messed up catching the bright splash of ribbons trailing from his ankles, weird remembering those are his legs shaved smooth, long and slim in platform heels and so pale next to Adam's freckled skin. It's fucking hot is what it is, and he doesn't miss Adam's gaze jumping from his hole stretching open to slide down his legs and back again. "Jesusfuck, why's your dick gotta be so fucking huge?"

"Why's your ass gotta be so fucking tiny?" Adam counters, screwing in again, making Tommy's body give it up. He braces a hand by the sink again, gives a couple short, sharp fucks to really wedge Tommy open before he goes for it, almost all the way out and back in again. "Tiny and gorgeous, oh my god, I love it."

"Bet you do," Tommy says, and, "Yeah, fuck, fuck, Adam," because Adam's got him stretched out enough now to really take it, long and slow and deep, all the way inside so the ache peaks, mellows out with the drag of bare skin, peaks again as Adam fucks in harder. Fucking without a rubber is Tommy's favourite, he can feel it when the ridge of Adam's dick catches on his rim, slight tug before the smooth slide back in. Flinging a hand above his head to brace on the mirror, he tries pushing down for more, says, "C'mon, fuck, give it to me if you're gonna, gonna have to carry me outta here anyway, c'mon already," and Adam makes a happy, ruined sort of noise and gives in, fucks rough and fast and mouths at Tommy's ink, his shoulder, anywhere Adam can reach.

When Adam comes, it's like a train wreck, seriously fucking straight off the rails pounding into him, thick slap of his wet dick in Tommy's ass as he goes for it a couple more times then slams in hard. Tommy worms a hand down between them before he gets it together enough to pull out, feeling around his stretched hole, dragging some of the lube up over his balls to slick his cock and get himself off while Adam's still in him so deep. Adam groans like it hurts but he stays where he is, heavy panting breaths warm on Tommy's chest. It's kinda fucked up and amazing when he comes; Adam's usually got this thing where he has to suck Tommy off after, like he's gonna die if Tommy doesn't jizz in his mouth, and he's really fucking good at it so it's not like Tommy's gonna complain about going off that way. But yeah, not so much with Adam inside him, and it's messed up and kinda trippy and he wants to do it again, right fucking now.

Groaning something that sounds like Tommy's name, Adam finally pulls out. Instead of going to get some paper towels or something, 'cause they've really got to get the fuck out of here, Adam keeps Tommy's legs wide, gets both hands between them to spread the cheeks of his ass, checking him out like Adam wants to make sure he did a damn good job fucking the hell out of him.

"Look good?" Tommy asks, joking mostly, but also wondering if maybe next time they fuck, he could get Adam to wait a little while between shooting in his ass and getting him off. Finger him a bit first. Or maybe a whole lot.

"So good," Adam says, kissing the inside of his thigh, then sliding up to help himself to Tommy's mouth. While he's there, he says, "I'm going to take you home and eat you out, and then I think I'm gonna fuck you again."

"Fuck," Tommy says, whole-hearted agreement. He struggles to sit up, almost falling off the edge of the counter before Adam catches him, helps get him back on his feet. Things were precarious with the heels already; he tries walking out of here on his own, it'll be a fucking disaster. He leans on the counter while Adam cleans up with a few towels, and braces a hand on Adam's shoulder when Adam comes back with a few to wipe between his legs. Considering the mess he's in, it probably doesn't help much. "Let's go already."

Scooping up Tommy's dress, Adam shakes it out, rolls up the skirt a bit and drapes it over Tommy's head when he raises his arms. It skims down and settles into place only slightly worse for wear. The panties, though, those things are toast.

"I don't know how I'm going to keep my hands off you," Adam says conversationally, trapping Tommy against the counter again, an arm on either side, "knowing you're wet under there." He smiles as Tommy huffs a laugh, and a hand sneaks around behind Tommy again, beneath the skirt to stroke his ass. "Can I finger you in the cab?"

The image of him straddling Adam's lap, Adam's fingers working in him lazily with the skirt pooled around his legs, hiding it all, hits Tommy harder than the thrum of noise as Adam pulls open the door. Hoping Adam'll blame it on the heels, Tommy grabs for his arm.

Ducking down close to Tommy's ear, Adam says, "I'm going to take that as a yes."


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