while with his gun the pagan angel rose to say

Fic: It's a phase that I'm in - Adam/Neil

Fic: It's a phase that I'm in - Adam/Neil

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This fic follows I know there's better brothers but you're the only one that's mine, which is now a trilogy in four parts.

I require Neil icons.

It's a phase that I'm in
Glamdom. Adam Lambert/Neil Lambert. NC-17. ~3000 words. Sibling incest, drugs a la Burning Man.
Adam's half-hard, but Neil's not thinking about that. He is winning.


It's a phase that I'm in

Under the bright desert sun, Adam is all freckles and frowns. There are enough drugs in Neil's system that the noises coming out of Adam's mouth only vaguely resemble words. He sounds like one of the adults on Charlie Brown. "I'm going to bury your head in the sand," Neil says. Kicking off a flipflop, he starts digging at the dirt with his toes. "Bend over."

"He promised he wouldn't," Adam moans on, oblivious, eyes brimming with deep, heart-wrenching longing as he stares off into the horizon, "but there he is. Doing it. Again."

Neil follows Adam's mournful gaze to a jumble of seven legs and eight arms on the ground. No, eight legs--if they'd picked up a one-legged companion somewhere, Neil's sure he would've noticed before now. They're all just... lying there. "What is it he's doing that he's not supposed to be doing?"

"Flirting," Adam hisses.

"No," Neil says slowly, "I'm pretty sure he's passed out."

Adam flings out a finger like a ninja star, sunlight glinting off his black nail polish. "Look at that!"

Neil looks. And looks. And, simply because he really is the very best of brothers, looks some more. "Nope. Don't see it."

"Oh my god. You're blind." Adam hits the dirt with a suitably dramatic flare of robes. Neil would honestly like to know where he found post-apocalyptic wise man robes in the middle of nowhere. Though absolutely no virtue of his own, Adam is a cool shit magnet. They need to get him a Moses stick. "You are so blind."

In a fine show of brotherly support, Neil settles down in the sand at Adam's side. He even gives Adam's bare thigh a comforting pat. "You're overthinking this. Obviously Brad decided on a nice mid-afternoon nap, and all these people came along after he flaked out. He was cuddle-bombed."

Adam lists sideways, his head thumping down on Neil's shoulder. Since it seems to be working, Neil pats his leg again. "It's not really his fault," Adam says conversationally. "He's very friendly. People misinterpret."

"And you're a possessive asshole," Neil happily agrees.

"Am not," Adam grumbles.

"Are too."

"I'm monogamous."

"So that guy with his face in Brad's crotch," Neil says, pointing. "Yeah, that one. He's not the guy you made out with last night on the trampoline?"

Adam's forehead crinkles. After a long stretch of silence, he looks up. "I thought that was you."

"I realise we're both on a fairly impressive cocktail right now, but trust me, I'd remember, and no."

Squinting suspiciously, Adam asks, "Are you sure?"

"Really very sure, yes."

"Huh," Adam says. Shrugging, he settles back down, and down, until his head's pillowed on Neil's thigh. "Weird. Kissed just like you."

"Oh hell no. No, no, and no," Neil says, jiggling his leg so hard Adam's teeth clack. "Get off me. You did not just say that shit, you did not."

"But he did," Adam wails, flailing around like a flipped turtle. "Or you did!" Heaving upright, he rolls onto his side in the sand, robes tangled around his legs. "Are you sure you're sure?"

Neil grinds his teeth together. When his molars finally give up the ghost, he's billing Adam for every last penny of his dental work. "Yes, I'm sure. No, I did not make out with you on a trampoline last night."

Chin propped up in one hand, posed like he's on the cover of a top-shelf magazine, Adam asks, "Is this your attempt at full denial again? Because you know that's not going to work."

"You can shut up now."

"I'm being serious! We made out. You got off. You really should deal with it instead of packing it down like that. You know you fester."

"I do not fester," Neil snaps. He jabs a finger in Adam's face. "You need to stop bringing it up."


"Shut up."


Faced with no other choice, Neil launches himself at Adam, fully intending on carrying through with the threat to bury his head in the sand. But there's no reason to stop there. He could bury all of Adam in the sand. If he asked nicely, he's sure someone could produce a sippy cup. One of those wedged beside Adam's head would ensure he didn't die of dehydration before Brad woke up to dig him out.

The thing about Adam, though, is he's actually a decent scrapper, and he's not afraid to fight dirty. For a guy that's so interested in other guys' junk, he's shockingly prone to jamming elbows into balls. Neil manages to scramble back far enough that Adam gets his thigh instead, and then Adam's scrabbling after him trying to shove his face in the sand. How he ends up flat on his back from there, Adam perched triumphantly on his chest, Neil has no idea.

"Uncle!" Adam crows.

"You moron," Neil says, dirt granules crunching between his teeth, "I'm the one who's supposed to say uncle."

"Whatever," Adam says, shrugging. "Admit that you got off on me and I'll let you up."

Neil shoves at Adam's knees. "I don't fucking think so."

"Oh, oh," Adam says, grabbing distractedly at Neil's wrist. "I changed my mind. Admit that you got off on me kissing you, then I'll let you up."

"You are insane," Neil grunts, feet planted firmly in the sand as he tries to buck Adam off. "I did not."

"You did," Adam says gleefully, finally managing to catch Neil's wrist and pin it down. Unsurprisingly, this gives Adam the perfect excuse to get far, far closer to Neil's face than necessary. "Say you-"

"Are you fucking leering at me?"

Adam's mouth snaps shut. Giving it a moment's thought, he says, "I think so."

"What the fuck is the matter with you, get the fuck off me, oh my god," Neil says, twisting and bucking and off they go again, rolling around in the sand like madmen. For Adam, this is probably a normal day-to-day occurrence. Aside from the part where Adam's plaguing him to talk about things he's fairly certain they swore a blood oath to never, ever bring up again, it's surprisingly freeing. Neil doesn't feel one bit guilty about punching Adam in the kidney.

"Fuck," Adam wheezes, "always the fucking kidney," and slams a knee into Neil's balls.

Entire planets implode inside Neil's head. "Oh fuck," he squeaks, collapsing in on the black hole of incomparable pain that's taken the place of his genitalia. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he moans, or tries to, not sure if there's any air getting in or out of his lungs. His lungs are the least of his worries. Someone could rip his lungs out through his throat right now and he wouldn't notice. The planet could explode, the universe expire, and he would not even fucking know.

"Oh shit," Adam babbles, grabbing at him randomly, "oh shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't-- Well, I did, but I didn't, and oh my fuck, Neil, Neil, say something."

Face in the sand, Neil burbles.

"Oh god, I broke you." The sun blazes brightly into Neil's eyes as Adam rolls him over, starts trying to pry his hands away from his crotch. Gurgling low in his throat, Neil clutches determinedly at his dick, silently promising certain death to Adam if he gets within three feet of him ever again. "Stop it," Adam snaps, bending Neil's fingers back so he either lets go or adds a splint to his wardrobe, "I'm trying to make sure you're alright."

"Fine," Neil rasps. "Go away."

"You are not fine, you're purple."

Neil's eyes flash wide. His entire body goes rigid with pure, primal fear. If Adam broke his dick for real, he is a dead man.

"Finally," Adam says, and shoves a hand down the front of Neil's cutoffs.

Neil screams.

"Shut up," Adam mutters, yanking open Neil's fly so he's got more space to work. He roots around in Neil's underwear like he's searching for the prize at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box, groping along Neil's abused dick to gently cup his balls. As if it's an entirely normal occurrence for them, Adam rolls Neil's nuts in his palm, mutters something under his breath, and carefully extracts his hand to give Neil's junk a comforting pat. "You're sorta hard, so I guess you're okay."

Obviously, Neil is hallucinating all of this. At this exact moment, he's passed out in a pile of bodies with Brad. Safe, normal Brad, who is Adam's loving boyfriend, and who owes Neil all the beer in the world for shanghaiing him all the way out here to this clusterfuck.

Adam drops down halfway on top of him, thankfully many, many inches away from his crotch. "What, no squawking? No, 'oh my god, Adam, what the fuck is wrong with you, why are you on my dick?'"

"I do not talk like that," Neil grunts. "You sound like a water buffalo in heat."

"How do you know you don't sound like a water buffalo in heat when you're turned on?" Adam counters.

"I'm not turned on!"

Adam looks pointedly down.

"You-- You fondled it," Neil protests.

"Oh come on," Adam says with a snort. "You were halfway there from groping my leg."

"What the fuck, I was not feeling up-"

"You're kind of hot when you're being a total bitch."

Neil's mouth snaps shut. Adam grins, bright and wide and free, and says, "Every time. Works every single time, I love it."

"You fucking promised," Neil grits out.

"Did not." Adam slinks up to his knees, fingers sinking into the sand either side of Neil's head. "I never once said anything about not using knowledge of your kinks against you, and you know it." A pause, long enough for Adam's grin to take on an evil slant, and Adam says, "Little bitch likes it."

"Shut up," Neil says, trying to scoot back as Adam crawls up, the sand slipping and sliding beneath him worse than if he were on solid ice.

"Bitch," Adam says again, a wicked purr low in his throat that freezes Neil's blood, "so fucking bitchy all the time, like you're begging for somebody to get up in your face, call you on it. Somebody with the balls to slap you back when you slap them down."

As Adam's shadow falls across Neil's face, Neil says, "You're going to do something stupid again, aren't you."

"Dunno," Adam lies, his hand skidding south, gritty with sand on Neil's belly, "are you gonna let me?"

A slightly hysterical noise bubbles up in the back of Neil's throat. At least they're both high. Possibly not as high as they'd been twenty minutes ago, but Neil is absolutely blaming his hand stuffed up under the tangles of Adam's robe on the drugs kicking around his system. He obviously didn't plan on putting it there.

Blinking rapidly, Adam squeaks, "What?"

"Ha!" Neil crows, worming his fingers around to find the slit in Adam's shorts, shove in and fist Adam's dick. Which is half-hard, but Neil's not thinking about that. He is winning. "Not so nice, is it?"

"Actually," Adam says, sinking down on one elbow, "it's pretty good." He rocks up, grunting softly as Neil's fingers convulsively tighten. "That no so much. Loosen up a bit."

"What," Neil says, getting his hand twisted up in clingy cotton as he tries to jerk it free. Adam's cock skids along his palm, and Adam lifts up, resettles his knees so he can thrust. "What the fuck are you doing, stop it."

"You started it."

"Did not!"

"Did," Adam says, gaze darting down seconds before his hand dives into Neil's shorts, clamps tight around Neil's dick and gives it a quick tug. "C'mon, you can do better than this."

"What the fuck," Neil says again. Ticked off that he can't wrangle up something decently scathing to spit in Adam's face, he flips his hand over, grabs onto Adam's cock again, and jacks it.

Adam's elbow goes skidding through the sand. "Fuck."

"Yeah, how's that," Neil says triumphantly, concentrating on the shaft because then it's easier to pretend that wetness against the back of his hand is sweat. Shifting his grip, he tugs harder, Adam's breath hissing at the scrape of sand sticking to his palm, and even while Neil's in the middle of thinking it serves Adam fucking right, he tries scrubbing it off onto Adam's belly. If he makes Adam's dick look like it got into a fight with a cat and lost, Adam's never going to let him hear the end of it.

"God," Adam gasps, head bowed and hand still on Neil's dick, "what the hell are you giggling about?"

"I'm not giggling," Neil grunts. Adam's heavy on top of him, panting hard, tiny twitches of his hips as if he's trying to pretend he's not as into his as he so obviously is. "How's that, fucking loose enough for you?"

Adam's fist clamps tight, cutting off Neil's air as if Adam's taken hold of his throat instead. "Not bad," he says, no qualms at all about getting his sandy hand sliding up to rub a thumb around the head of Neil's cock, coax it sticky wet. "Better than last time."

"Oh fuck you," Neil says, bucking up, honestly trying to kick Adam off but that's not what happens at all, his dick slipping through the tunnel of Adam's fist, sandpaper rasp ratcheting up his spine one vertebrae at a time.

Adam says, "That's it, that's the best you can do?" and does something complicated with his wrist and fingers all at once that is not impressive, it isn't, except for how the red-hot rush of pleasure almost melts Neil's spine. "You are so fucking easy," Adam goes on, shifting around so he can stare down at Neil, like he isn't already crazy enough to be doing what he's doing, he has to up the stakes even more, watch as he jerks Neil off, "you snap and you bitch and you snarl and all you really want is somebody do shove you down and fuck you."

"Shut up," Neil says, trying to get his hand moving again, knock that smarmy, self-satisfied leer off Adam's face, "god, shut up, what is wrong with you, you can't just-"

"Oh I so can," Adam purrs, fucking purrs, and it isn't hot, not even close to anything like hot, but Neil can't move, can't even blink as Adam's other hand gets in on the action, one long, endless pull hand-over-hand that slices Neil's breath to ribbons. Right before it happens, the familiar heat in Neil's belly coiling tight, muscles seizing, disbelief razor-sharp and metallic coating the back of his throat, Adam says, "Come on, give it up, can't even get laid on your own, still need your big brother to do everything for you," and Neil bucks up, comes so hard his chest aches and his ears pop.

"Fuck you," Neil barks, sluggishly shoving Adam off, "fuck you, you self-absorbed, egotistical, narcissistic-"

"Yeah, come on," Adam says, falling back easily, grabbing at Neil's bare back as Neil clambers on top of him, jacks him so hard and fast it's got to hurt. Adam shudders like it does in the best possible way, eyes squeezing shut. Sand sticks to the come clinging to his hand, the glisten of it on Neil's arm when he grabs it.

"You are so fucking in love with yourself," Neil snarls, spitting in his hand to make the rough drag easier, and Adam moans for him, sand kicked up as he writhes in the dirt, tries to get closer. "You want yourself so bad you've got to fuck your brother to get it?"

Adam's eyes flash open. He gasps, "I'm so hotter than you," and Neil jerks back, shocked at the sudden wet spill of heat over his hand. Adam groans for him to keep going, don't chicken out now, but Neil can't move, frozen and brittle like he's turned to glass beneath the desert sun.

Panting hard, Adam surges up, hooks an arm around Neil's neck to drag him down flailing. They end up rolling through the sand again, filthy with sweat and come, and Neil can't breathe through the stink of it, the phantom sensation of Adam's dick pulsing in his hand. He collapses in a heap, somehow on top of Adam again, Adam's arm tight around his back, dirty fingers digging hard into his side.

"We are not going to talk about this ever again," Neil says, muffled in Adam's chest. He can't tell if that's his heartbeat pounding in his head or Adam's.

"Talk about what, honey?" comes Brad's wholly unwelcome voice. Fifteen minutes ago, Neil would've kissed him if he showed up to distract Adam. Now, Neil wants to kill him. Neil's going to kill them both.

"Nothing," Neil grunts at the same time Adam says, "I got him in the nuts."

Brad gasps dramatically and drops to his knees, gentle hands rubbing down Neil's back. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry. He forgets how big and strong he is sometimes."

Choking on a hysterical laugh, Neil says, "Right. He's a giant."

"Hung like one," Adam says happily.

Neil grates, "Do not talk about your dick when I'm lying on it."

Giving Neil another sympathetic shoulder rub, Brad climbs back up. "I'll go get you some water. And a joint, that'll make you feel better. You stay right there and let Adam hug it out."

Maybe Neil should bury his own head in the sand. It wouldn't be as much effort as planting both Adam and his boyfriend.

"That's right," Adam drawls, pure malicious glee, "you let me hug it out."

"I'm going to murder you in your sleep."

"Honey," Adam says, "if you sneak into my bed at night, chances are pretty good you're not going to get around to killing me," and he laughs, fucking laughs, and won't let go even when Neil punches him in the kidney, twice.


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