"Oh, that is niiiice," Adam said, coming out into the studio parking lot behind him, and Tommy preened a little—okay, a lot—and slid his hand over the handlebars. "Tommy! Have you been splurging?"
"What the fuck is the money for?" Tommy said, shrugging; he didn't have to worry about a fucking budget, whether he could afford the one more music video, the really hot merch, any of that shit. Life was a lot simpler on the hired-hand end of the job: three paychecks, more coming, and the rent was paid, so why the fuck not?
Adam prowled around the bike, a matched set in his black leather and his silver from some interview this morning. Tommy didn't really think about it before he said, "Want a ride?"
"Of course I want a ride!" Adam said, and Tommy started thinking about it plenty then, after Adam slung one long, leather-sleek leg over the seat and settled in behind him, Tommy's thighs resting on his and their knees slotted together, with the engine rumble underneath while Tommy cut the bike through the traffic and took them up into the hills.
Adam's hands were warm on his waist, unhesitating; not like guys who did the awkward shit and tried to figure out somewhere else for them to go. Miles out of the city, Tommy found a dirt bike trail and took a chance, reckless, and followed it up: pale yellow dust in a cloud behind them, clinging in a film on the leather and chrome, until they were over the last ledge and he killed the bike with a showy slide that kicked up pebbles and dirt into the brush around the clearing, all of L.A. in a big smoggy sprawl below and the Pacific in a haze beyond.
Adam swung off the bike and took the helmet off, shaking his hair loose and running a hand through the spiky shock of it, smiling out at the view. Tommy poked around in his jacket and dug up a joint, lit it watching Adam standing against the sky, his ass in the skin-tight leather and his endless legs. Nobody could've helped thinking about it. Tommy licked smoke off his lips, and Adam turned around and saw him and flicked up his eyebrow, little smirk as he walked back to the bike.
He took the joint out of Tommy's hand and took a drag, Dietrich-glamorous, and blew the smoke out in a thin blue stream, knowing just how fucking hot he was, right there in arm's length, and Tommy reached out and put a hand on Adam's thigh.
Adam glanced down, heavy-lidded, and smiled with one side of his mouth. "So," he said softly, "want a ride?"
"Fuck, yes," Tommy said, already going for it, mouth dry and dust smearing under his fingers while he got Adam's belt open, his pants undone. Adam shucked his jacket and his t-shirt, put his boot up on the seat between Tommy's legs for him to get it unlaced, then the other, and stripped down. Adam was fucking beautiful naked, too: not some gym hardbody but lean and sprayed with freckles, easy in his own body. Tommy took another hit off the joint, watching him, before he stubbed it out on the side of his boot and stuck it back in his jacket.
"Are you planning to get naked at some point?" Adam said, stepping out of his shorts, thick heavy cock already swelled up between his legs, resting over his balls.
Tommy swallowed and said, "No. Get the fuck on up here," and shoved down the kickstand and slid backwards on the bike seat.
Adam laughed and swung a leg over the bike in front of him and settled down, gave him the smooth broad stretch of his back. Tommy reached around, slid his hand under Adam's balls just to cup them, feeling the weight of them heavy in his hand, Adam's dick hot and leaking a little at the head. He nudged Adam further up on the seat, settling Adam's cock and balls against the fuel tank and reaching up front to rev the engine, feeling the roar through his own thighs.
"Beautiful," Adam said, groaning, and Tommy fished around in the saddlebag compartments—he'd stocked up—and he got his fingers slick and got a couple of them rubbing Adam's hole, pushing in soft and sweet and careful, getting his knees under Adam's thighs to help hold him up. Adam rocked up against the fuel tank, back onto Tommy's fingers, breathing hard, loosening up, and Tommy licked up the line of Adam's back, tasting sweat and skin, and worked his fingers in harder.
"Fuck, yes," Adam said, rocking a little quicker, picking up the pace. "Come on, give me another."
"Hang on," Tommy said, and got his jeans open, in a real fucking hurry now, and pressed the head of his cock against Adam's hole. Adam was leaning against the handlebars with his eyes shut, his head tipped back: Tommy could see his face in the mirrors, the way his mouth had gone soft and open, the way the corner of it quirked a little while Tommy put the rest of his cock in. "Yeah," Tommy said, panting, he wanted to hear Adam, too. "Yeah, take it. Is it good? Talk to me."
"Yes," Adam said, and yeah, there it was, that low husky I'm being fucked note, hot and excited. "Yes, fuck, it's good."
"Yeah," Tommy said, and got himself in all the way, balls on the leather seat and his cock up in Adam's hot, tight ass, and fuck, it was better than good, it was amazing. He gripped Adam's asscheeks with his hands and spread them so he could see his dick going in better, shiny-slick, and pulled it out to slide back in.
He reached around and revved the engine again, deep growl rocking through them both and Adam's wordless moan sliding up Tommy's spine like a gift, and then he was fucking Adam hard and fast, pushing him hard against the fuel tank, licking his arching back, between his shoulderblades. "Yeah, yes," Tommy said, "Fuck."
"Oh," Adam said, "oh—" and Tommy put a hand around his dick and jerked him, rubbed his thumb all over the head of Adam's cock, smearing, and then he pressed Adam's cock against the tank and revved again, and again, and Adam was jerking back and forth, shoving himself back onto Tommy's cock.
Tommy pressed up hard against his back. "I'm going to fuck you," Tommy said, panting, and grabbed Adam's hips and slammed it in, hard. "Fuck. Adam."
"Oh, fuck," Adam said, writhing his hips a little, trying to get purchase on the ground. Tommy grabbed his thighs and pulled them up to keep him from getting it, Adam sliding deeper back on him, saying, "Oh, yes, oh—" as Tommy fucked into him harder, just shoving his cock in, fuck, he wanted —
"I want you fucking wrecked," Tommy said. "I'm gonna fucking take you apart."
"Yes," Adam said. "Come on and do it, baby," and Tommy bent him all the way forward, pretty much draped him over the bike, his body pressed the length of the seat, the tank, leaning him over the handlebars. Tommy went long: all the way out, everything except the head, and all the way back in, fast, and he did it again, and again after that, and Adam was just moaning, taking all Tommy's cock, fuck, so hot watching it going in him. Tommy reached around and grabbed Adam's dick, jerked him fast and steady, hammered him with short fast strokes, and Adam was making noises and coming, over his fingers, hot and spurting fast, dripping through Tommy's hand onto the fuel tank and down the freshly-painted sides, and Tommy didn't fucking care.
"Oh, fucking God," Adam said, shuddering, and Tommy took it home one last time, again, again, and then he was coming, balls-deep in Adam's ass, squeezed tight and so fucking good, amazing.
Adam leaned back against him after, laughing, sweaty, makeup smearing down from the corner of his eyes. "That was a trip," he said, and laughed again.
"You're fucking blown," Tommy said, kissing Adam's neck. Adam turned his head and tipped it back against Tommy's shoulder, so Tommy could kiss his mouth, Adam's tongue licking hot into his.
"I am," Adam agreed, happy, and caught Tommy's lip between his teeth, let it drag slowly out, bit him on the jaw, on the chin. "Let's get cleaned up, baby. I'm taking you home after that one."
= End =
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