FIC: Written on the Body
Oct. 2nd, 2010 03:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: Written on the Body
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Pairing/Fandom: AKB!verse, Adam Lambert / Jeremy Sisto; ultimately Adam/Tommy/Jeremy/Misha
A/N: So this is an AU of the RPS AU A Kept Boy 'verse, where slavery remains legal. Canon-wise, Jeremy ends up with different people, but I like the glitter of this particular Happy Ever After. Set 6-7 months after the end of That Middle Road, which you can read off the akb tag on my LJ. Established relationship, kink, polyamory.
The lipstick feels cold, after the warmth of their bed. Jeremy thinks he can feel the plastic edges of the tube, scratching his skin like a fingernail, though that’s probably his imagination.
His fingers flex on the towel-bar, where Adam told him to hold on before he whipped out the black lipstick. His eyes are grainy, still, and he wants to rub at them. He gets petulant when the nightmares start up again, the sleep deprivation and the uneasy cloudiness of his brain when he can’t remember what he was even screaming about. The old dance of Misha shaking him awake, Adam’s hand on his arm to keep him from hitting anybody, Tommy rubbing his head against Jeremy like a cat.
Bodhi had night terrors for a while, but he was four. Jeremy ought to have fucking grown out of it.
He offers to sleep in a different bed, or on the couch, and Misha looks at him like he kicked an orphan puppy owned by a nun.
So then there’s this: 4 AM, another nightmare, Adam pulling him out of bed and into the master bathroom so he can go all Bob Ross on Jeremy’s back.
“Stop fidgeting,” Adam murmurs. There’s that velvet-rich warning in his voice, the implicit or else drawing down Jeremy’s spine like the touch of a gloved hand. “You’re going to ruin the lines.”
“Sorry,” Jeremy says, and leans his head down to bare his nape. Lets that say, you can punish me if you really want. It’s not like he’s really in the mood, but he usually sleeps hard after an endorphin crash. Adam would make it worth his while. “Hate to ruin your happy little trees.”
Adam makes an amused sound. “This is something I’m not old enough to understand? Like 8-tracks or the beginning of the railroads?”
“Ouch,” Jeremy says mildly. “Right in the ego.”
“I imagine you’ll live.”
The next line sweeps in a curve across his spine. Adam’s touch is steady and calming, in this as in most things, from administering a flogging to chopping vegetables for dinner. If Jeremy closes his eyes, he can feel the sticky outline of Adam’s mark on his skin.
Which brings to his mind that Adam could just jerk off on him. Jeremy says, “You could just jerk off on me,” and considers that sleep deprivation has never been great for his brain to mouth filter.
Adam pauses mid-line, and Jeremy can almost see his eyebrows raising up. “I could do that,” he says, after a moment. Then, “I like drawing on you. You’re so good.”
“Oh.” The heat of Jeremy’s stupid adolescent blush hits him like a blast furnace; he coughs into his shoulder to hide the way he ducks his head. “Okay. What’re you, um.”
“My tattoo.” Adam holds his arm out, underside up, to show Jeremy the unblinking kohl-lined eye. Freckles spot Adam’s skin, darker flecks of color that Jeremy’s chased with his mouth. Connected with his tongue. His arm hairs are red and fine. “I got it for protection.”
Protection from what? Jeremy doesn’t ask, because he knows Adam wouldn’t answer. They’ve all got their damages.
“Might help you sleep,” Adam continues, after a beat of hesitation that could almost be mistaken for a deep breath. Then he flattens his palm on Jeremy’s stomach and slides it slow, inexorable, down to Jeremy’s dick. “So might this.”
Jeremy sucks in a breath through his teeth, stopping the arch of his back to avoid smearing the lines. "We already-- twice? In a night?"
"You're not that old yet," Adam teases him, and slips his thumb across the head of Jeremy's dick. Jeremy shifts his legs further apart and loves Adam's laugh.
He doesn’t believe that a tattoo can keep anyone safe, like he doesn’t really believe in safe at all, but--
But it can’t hurt to feel it on his back and know Adam put it there, so careful to do it right. For him. Because Adam loves him. Because Tommy rubs against him, and Misha shakes him awake, and they share their big tumbledown bed.
Adam jerks him off slow and sweet, almost hurting, Jeremy’s toes curling in the short scruff of the bathroom rug. He sidesteps Jeremy’s offer to reciprocate, and goes to get him warm milk.
They return to bed. Misha rolls his eyes at the lipstick, but scoots over to embrace Jeremy in the lean curve of his body. His hands sign, I like hearing you. Sweet noises.
Jeremy smothers his grin against Misha.
Tommy’s already sleeping, used to worse chaos than this.
The lipstick ruins their sheets. The eye smears by morning and Jeremy finds traces of it up to the top of his spine, behind his ear, to the back of his knees.
He sleeps, protected.
Author:
nilchanceRating: NC-17 for sex
Pairing/Fandom: AKB!verse, Adam Lambert / Jeremy Sisto; ultimately Adam/Tommy/Jeremy/Misha
A/N: So this is an AU of the RPS AU A Kept Boy 'verse, where slavery remains legal. Canon-wise, Jeremy ends up with different people, but I like the glitter of this particular Happy Ever After. Set 6-7 months after the end of That Middle Road, which you can read off the akb tag on my LJ. Established relationship, kink, polyamory.
The lipstick feels cold, after the warmth of their bed. Jeremy thinks he can feel the plastic edges of the tube, scratching his skin like a fingernail, though that’s probably his imagination.
His fingers flex on the towel-bar, where Adam told him to hold on before he whipped out the black lipstick. His eyes are grainy, still, and he wants to rub at them. He gets petulant when the nightmares start up again, the sleep deprivation and the uneasy cloudiness of his brain when he can’t remember what he was even screaming about. The old dance of Misha shaking him awake, Adam’s hand on his arm to keep him from hitting anybody, Tommy rubbing his head against Jeremy like a cat.
Bodhi had night terrors for a while, but he was four. Jeremy ought to have fucking grown out of it.
He offers to sleep in a different bed, or on the couch, and Misha looks at him like he kicked an orphan puppy owned by a nun.
So then there’s this: 4 AM, another nightmare, Adam pulling him out of bed and into the master bathroom so he can go all Bob Ross on Jeremy’s back.
“Stop fidgeting,” Adam murmurs. There’s that velvet-rich warning in his voice, the implicit or else drawing down Jeremy’s spine like the touch of a gloved hand. “You’re going to ruin the lines.”
“Sorry,” Jeremy says, and leans his head down to bare his nape. Lets that say, you can punish me if you really want. It’s not like he’s really in the mood, but he usually sleeps hard after an endorphin crash. Adam would make it worth his while. “Hate to ruin your happy little trees.”
Adam makes an amused sound. “This is something I’m not old enough to understand? Like 8-tracks or the beginning of the railroads?”
“Ouch,” Jeremy says mildly. “Right in the ego.”
“I imagine you’ll live.”
The next line sweeps in a curve across his spine. Adam’s touch is steady and calming, in this as in most things, from administering a flogging to chopping vegetables for dinner. If Jeremy closes his eyes, he can feel the sticky outline of Adam’s mark on his skin.
Which brings to his mind that Adam could just jerk off on him. Jeremy says, “You could just jerk off on me,” and considers that sleep deprivation has never been great for his brain to mouth filter.
Adam pauses mid-line, and Jeremy can almost see his eyebrows raising up. “I could do that,” he says, after a moment. Then, “I like drawing on you. You’re so good.”
“Oh.” The heat of Jeremy’s stupid adolescent blush hits him like a blast furnace; he coughs into his shoulder to hide the way he ducks his head. “Okay. What’re you, um.”
“My tattoo.” Adam holds his arm out, underside up, to show Jeremy the unblinking kohl-lined eye. Freckles spot Adam’s skin, darker flecks of color that Jeremy’s chased with his mouth. Connected with his tongue. His arm hairs are red and fine. “I got it for protection.”
Protection from what? Jeremy doesn’t ask, because he knows Adam wouldn’t answer. They’ve all got their damages.
“Might help you sleep,” Adam continues, after a beat of hesitation that could almost be mistaken for a deep breath. Then he flattens his palm on Jeremy’s stomach and slides it slow, inexorable, down to Jeremy’s dick. “So might this.”
Jeremy sucks in a breath through his teeth, stopping the arch of his back to avoid smearing the lines. "We already-- twice? In a night?"
"You're not that old yet," Adam teases him, and slips his thumb across the head of Jeremy's dick. Jeremy shifts his legs further apart and loves Adam's laugh.
He doesn’t believe that a tattoo can keep anyone safe, like he doesn’t really believe in safe at all, but--
But it can’t hurt to feel it on his back and know Adam put it there, so careful to do it right. For him. Because Adam loves him. Because Tommy rubs against him, and Misha shakes him awake, and they share their big tumbledown bed.
Adam jerks him off slow and sweet, almost hurting, Jeremy’s toes curling in the short scruff of the bathroom rug. He sidesteps Jeremy’s offer to reciprocate, and goes to get him warm milk.
They return to bed. Misha rolls his eyes at the lipstick, but scoots over to embrace Jeremy in the lean curve of his body. His hands sign, I like hearing you. Sweet noises.
Jeremy smothers his grin against Misha.
Tommy’s already sleeping, used to worse chaos than this.
The lipstick ruins their sheets. The eye smears by morning and Jeremy finds traces of it up to the top of his spine, behind his ear, to the back of his knees.
He sleeps, protected.
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no subject
Date: 2010-10-04 03:46 pm (UTC)