This is a oneshot for my dear friend Liz. The idea was hers, and the two sex scenes are based off of fanart pieces on deviantart by the ever fabulous KarolaKH. Anyways, I do hope you enjoy it. :)

Blame It On The Drag Queen

The first thing that Tommy Joe Ratliff is aware of is that he was not given Aleve for his minor hangover-headache like he, originally, thought.

The second thing he is aware of is the rock hard erection he is now sporting, and no amount of, even, insanely good porn or quick jerk-offs are giving him the satisfaction of being free of this painful brink-of-orgasm sensation.

He knows, though— now, when it's too fucking late— that he really, really should have paid even the slightest bit of attention to the shape and labeling of the pills before popping four of them into his fucking mouth, dry swallowing them like they were candy pieces. He knows, now, that he shouldn't have trusted Sutan with handling the medicines when the drag queen knew that Adam was going to be home in less than a couple of hours from his spa-day with Sasha and Brooke.

But, of course, it's too fucking late at this point. He'd taken the pills almost two hours ago and went to lay down to, hopefully, get rid of his headache. Well, needless to say, his headache is gone, but now there's a raging and hell'a lot more obvious ache in his pants that is giving him a kind of itch that no amount of scratching and rubbing can get rid of. And the only thing that Tommy can think of while whimpering into the crook of his arm and stroking himself repeatedly is Fuck you, Sutan, fuck you, very much!

It's almost embarrassing, to say the least. Being caught in the confines of his and Adam's bedroom, frantically palming his dick every five minutes like a horny teenager who has been, recently, sucked into the bliss of masturbation. His face is beet red, there's sweat in his hairline, and he's sure he's going to lose his voice from the constant whimpers and groans that are tumbling from his Twiggy-lips.

Part of him wants to just rip the blankets away from his naked, sweat-slicked legs and stumble down to the small office that Adam is currently holed up in and just beg for some form of fucking release already. But he knows that, if Adam were to hear that he took fucking Viagra instead of Aleve, he'll never hear the end of it from the Glam rockstar. Because Adam's a douche bag like that.

Instead, Tommy rolls over onto his stomach, keeping his hand around his dick as he buries his face into his pillow, shamelessly thrusting into his hand like he's thrusting into Adam, grunting and panting into the cotton. He doesn't like this. He doesn't like this at all, but he has no one, really, to blame but himself for taking the fucking pills. He should've seen the slight difference in shape, the darker color, the fact that the word, Viagra, itself was printed on the pill and not Aleve… But he blames Sutan, instead. Cause Sutan's the one who fucking gave it to him.

It's a pattern, really. Between thrusts, Tommy moans Adam's name, whining and grunting before cursing Sutan, only to moan Adam's name again. He's, almost, surprised that Adam hasn't heard him yet, considering the singer's just down the hall, and the walls aren't, exactly, that thick. But maybe it's the pillow that muffles his sounds of desperate, lonely sex that keep him safe. Or maybe Adam's laughing his ass off in the other room at Tommy's, rather, amusing misfortune.

Whatever the case, Tommy tries to reinvent all of the great hours of sex he's had with Adam in hopes of getting this Viagra fever to go away without having to inform Adam about it. But, even as he replays the night that Adam fucked him— three times— through a cock ring, the tension in his spine isn't letting up and it seems that the pressure behind his balls is only getting worse. And, in getting worse, Tommy whines into the pillow, wondering if digging his nails into his dick might release some of this strain.

God fucking damnit, Sutan, I'm so getting you back for this! He thinks to himself, panting hard. Tommy cringes, trying to breathe right as he gets a cramp in his side, kind of like the ones he gets whenever he runs too long and doesn't breathe quite right while doing so. Oh, yeah, he's really gonna get Sutan back for this one. Dirty motherfucker.

Is it really so bad? To go and ask Adam for help? Tommy muses, rolling back over onto his bad, breathing deeply through his nose as his face twists into ecstasy, his hips coming off the bed as he jacks off fast and hard. He's almost sure that he's building muscle in his arms from doing this, but right now he doesn't give a flying fuck. He just wants this to go away so he can feel like a normal person again.

Of course it is! Dirty fucker will laugh for several minutes and then torture you before even bothering to play nice and give you what you need. Tommy hates talking to himself. Really, he does. But sometimes— like right now— he just can't help it. Just like he can't help the frustrated squeal that rips itself from his throat when his wrist cramps up from twisting and jacking so long.

"Fuck!" Tommy hisses, flopping on the bed, sprawled eagle. But, by no means, is he relaxed. Oh, hell no. He's coiled up tight as a wire and ready to spring at the first chance he can get at being released. It's like taking the safety off of a gun. You're just waiting for that twitch of a finger and bam!

But that's just it— waiting. Tommy's never been good at waiting.

Eventually, though, he can't take it. Fucking his own hand isn't working anymore and he really, really doesn't want to go digging through the drawer of toys that Adam has in the back of their closet to find something suitable when he's got the perfect thing sitting in an office down the hall.

Tommy rips the blankets away, sliding off of the bed and tugging on a pair of pajama pants that rub him in all the wrong and right ways to make his erection even worse, if that's possible. Groaning, Tommy tugs the bedroom door open, stumbling down the hallway towards the office door. It's barely open, and he can hear Adam humming quietly to himself in a tune that's unfamiliar but pleasant. Adam's working on his songwriting again.

Barely having the patience to hover in the doorway, Tommy pokes his head inside, knocking on the wall. He has his lower body just outside of the door enough that Adam can't see the raging hard-on he's got and, for that, he's fucking thankful. Adam glances up, pushing his hair out of his face before he smiles, "Hey Glitterbaby," Tommy almost has to choke back the moans that want to spew from his throat when Adam speaks.

"H-hey," Tommy says back, wincing at the desperation in his voice. But Adam doesn't seem to notice it as he looks back down at his paper, his laptop sitting in front of him. Oh yeah, he's definitely songwriting.

Tommy takes a moment to look at Adam's position in front of him. He's sitting back, a little, in his office chair, reclining just enough to be comfortable but not enough to appear lazy. And the desk that he's sitting behind doesn't have a backing, which means it's more like a table, only smaller. Tommy bites down on his bottom lip, slowly making his way towards Adam, being as quiet as possible.

The singer doesn't look up at him or even acknowledge that he's moved closer until Tommy ducks down onto his knees, panting heavily and seeing Adam naked in front of his wide eyes. Adam hums from above, confused no doubt, but Tommy's slinking beneath the desk, scooting close before his hands fly out, grabbing at Adam's jeans.

"Glitterbaby?" Adam yelps as Tommy pops the button and rips down the zipper, pulling Adam's fly open before reaching in for his cock like he's reaching in for the rabbit in the hat. Adam groans when Tommy's callused fingers wrap around his already-half-hard dick, pulling it free. "Glitterbaby, what are you—" Adam begins to say, but doesn't get another word out as Tommy lunges forward, wrapping his lips around the head of Adam's dick and sucking him down whole.

Adam gasps in surprise, bucking into Tommy's throat harshly, forcing the blond's head back and slamming it into the underside of the desk. Groaning, Tommy sees nothing but black fuzziness for a moment, and he mentally screams a harsh fuck!, but he doesn't pull off from Adam's dick. No, he keeps his mouth firmly sealed around the singer's growing-erection, his hands coming up to grasp at Adam's calves.

"F-fuck, Tommy!" Adam moans, shifting in his seat to lean against the desk as Tommy bobs his head. The singer groans, gently pushing forward in his seat to thrust deeper down Tommy's throat, forcing the blond to take more. Tommy, gripping Adam's calves tightly through his jeans, inhales as deeply as he can through his nose, bobbing his head quick and hard, sucking so furiously that his cheeks are hollowing inward, his lips turning red and swollen.

This isn't enough! Tommy hisses at himself, letting go of one of Adam's legs long enough to slip his hand back into his own pants to stroke himself. He can hear Adam moaning and grunting through the desk above him, and he can taste the saltiness of Adam's precum in the back of his throat, but it's not enough! Fuck, he wishes it was enough, though. He really does because Adam is moaning beautifully and he tastes fucking delicious, but… Urgh!

"T-Tommy.. Shit, Tommy! Fuck, I'm.. I'm…" Adam whimpers, reaching down to thread his fingers through Tommy's hair, pulling hard. Tommy grunts, scraping his teeth along Adam's dick, sucking so hard his eyes are rolling into the back of his head as Adam jerks, crying out like a porn star and coming hot and hard down his throat; all over his tongue. Tommy's hand stills on his own dick after a moment, a shudder rippling down his spine. He feels a release, but there is no milk to spill. He gave all he could after he first woke up, fucking his hand the first five times. Now he's got the sensations, but nothing to give and no fucking sense of, really, being finished.

Whining, Tommy pulls away, his lips catching the last spurts of Adam's cum, the saltiness getting into the places where he's chewed through the skin, and he winces, panting heavily. The back of his head is throbbing, but the pain between his legs is his biggest concern right now, even when Adam pulls away enough to look down at him.

"What's gotten into you, baby?" Adam pants, his eyes still glazed over from finishing. Lucky bastard! Tommy groans to himself, leaning forward and rubbing his cheek against Adam's spent dick. Rubbing his face against his Babyboy's cock is such a turn on for him, strange as it is…

"Sutan gave me fucking Viagra instead of Aleve.. I swear, I've got fucking perma-wood, and I want it taken care of," Tommy hisses in mumbled, drugged words, dragging a wet kiss along the underside of Adam's member, licking away Adam's semen and his own saliva.

Adam moans softly, running his fingers through Tommy's hair as the blond thrusts into his hand again, whining loudly and, to be honest, quite pathetically. Adam chuckles, pulling away from Tommy, leaving his spent member hanging out of his jeans as he stands. Tommy watches him hold out his hands, offering to help the blond to his feet. Can't really take your hands when I'm busy, you fuck. He sneers, but doesn't say anything. Not really wanting to take his hand from his pants because, while it's not entirely satisfactory, it does feel good, Tommy reaches up with one hand, awkwardly shuffling to his feet.

Adam scoops him up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before bending down, grabbing Tommy by the knees, flinging the blond like a rag doll over his shoulder. Tommy yelps, clawing into Adam's shoulder with his one hand still jammed down his pants. He's trembling head to toe like a leaf, his mind going off the fritz as Adam carries him, effortlessly, back down to their room.

Shoving the door open with his exposed shoulder, Adam carries Tommy inside and the blond is only aware of being on the singer's shoulder one moment before flying through the air the next and landing on his back on the bed. Bouncing once, Tommy manages to kick his pajama pants off, discarding them to the floor before returning his hands to his red and angry cock, arching off the bed as he strokes himself again.

"Stop, Glitterbaby," Adam commands of him, stripping in front of Tommy before slamming the door shut with his foot. Tommy whines, continuing to touch himself.

"Fuck you, Lambert. I'll fucking touch myself if I want!" He hisses, arching deeply off the bed as he reaches down to, hopefully, tease his hole.

Of course, though, Adam doesn't let him get that far.

"Oh, no, baby. Your ass is mine, which means I get to be the one to open you up," Adam says, almost possessively. Tommy moans, squeezing his eyes shut and whining in protest as Adam pulls his hands away from his dick.

"If you fucking own me, fucking get in me!" Tommy shouts at him, panting hot and hard as sweat rolls down his face. Adam smirks from above at him, grabbing Tommy by the hips and tossing him over onto his stomach like he's a piece of a salad. Tommy feels Adam's fingers dig into the flesh of his ass cheeks before he's spread apart. Whining into the comforter of the bed, Tommy's palms fist the sheets as he feels Adam breath into his hole, making him tense and grunt.

"Fuck, Adam. Fucking fuck me with your tongue, please!" Tommy begs, lifting his hips off the bed enough to stick his ass in the air some, as if offering it to Adam. He hears Adam chuckle behind him before feeling another gust of air.

"I love it when you talk dirty, Glitterbaby," Adam comments before Tommy feels the wet, hot muscle of Adam-fucking-Lambert's tongue sliding hard and deep into his ass, setting his nerves on fire and making him arch, crying out. His knuckles stretch and turn white as he clenches the sheets and blankets, pushing back against Adam's tongue in a vain attempt to take him even deeper.

"Fuck, yeah!" Tommy groans, rocking back in time with the thrusts of Adam's tongue, shivering from a fever that doesn't seem to want to sweat out of him to save his fucking life. Tommy arches, ass in the air and pressed to Adam's face, his back curving, his chest glued to the bed, his head lifted as he cries out. His eyes are squeezed shut and, he's sure, if someone were videotaping this, they'd make millions off of how hot this would be as a porno. Does he care?

Fuck no.

Adam moans into him, his nails digging into the flesh of Tommy's ass and the blond squeal, dipping his head down to bury his face into the blankets as he grunts and moans, fighting the itch to reach down and fist his cock until he comes hot and hard. He has to fight it. He has to trust that Adam knows what he's doing to make Tommy feel better and—

"FUCK!" Tommy screams when Adam hits that spot with his tongue. It feels like his fucking spine explodes and he comes without a drop, really, to shed. It's pitiful, really, that he milked all he was worth earlier, but hey! The pressure is going away now! It's still there, yeah, but it's going away! Halle-fucking-lujah!

Adam pulls out of his ass, leaving a hot and wet trail up his lower back, along his spine and across his neck before Adam shifts, dipping his tongue into the shell of Tommy's ear. Tommy shivers, whining as his hands relax against the sheets some, "Feel better, baby?" Adam asks, but Tommy whimpers and shakes his head.

Tommy moans softly, still shaking when Adam grabs him by the hips, lifting him up onto his knees before pushing him up against the headboard by the wall. Tommy groans, turning his head to see Adam behind him from the corner of his eye. The Glam rockstar presses himself to Tommy, his breath ghosting along the blond's neck. Tommy's eyes slip shut and he moans, his arms bent and his hands by his head against the wall as Adam grinds into his ass, teasing his hole but not penetrating.

The grind makes Tommy whine and he thrusts up against the headboard before groaning quietly. Adam reaches down, snatching up a pillow before pulling Tommy back long enough to slip the pillow between Tommy's hips and the wall, cushioning his dick, "There, baby," Adam whispers into the shell of Tommy's ear, his breath heavy and wet.

"I don't wanna fuck a pillow, Adam!" Tommy complains, gasping when Adam grinds into him again.

"Do you wanna hump the wall, then? Cause that can't be comfortable," Adam retorts, biting into the blond's shoulder. Tommy wails, whimpering and thinking that there can't be anything worse than being so fucking turned on and having nothing to show for it.

"I wanna fucking hump you," Tommy groans without meaning to, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he drops back against Adam's shoulder, feeling Adam's hands spreading him again.

"Later, love. It's my turn," Adam sneers, shoving hard and quick into Tommy like he was made to fuck Tommy's ass. On impact— or, insert?— Tommy arches deeply, thrusting into the pillow— which he's suddenly thankful for— and wails, breathing hard as Adam stabs that spot inside of him that makes him feel dizzy with pleasure.

"Ohh, fuck.." Tommy mutters when Adam pulls back and thrusts hard into him, his hips snapping like a rubber band into his backside. Tommy wasn't prepped and the only lube they're using is the saliva from Adam's tongue, but somehow the rough edge and stretch is making the burn in Tommy's being fade away. Each thrust is making the ache behind his balls lessen and each stab to his prostate is making him quiver closer and closer to his end.

He knows he's going to finish embarrassingly soon, but he really doesn't care, because Adam is fucking him hard and it just feels so right. Adam's hands latch themselves to his hips and he's pounding mercilessly into Tommy's backside. The blond knows— oh, yeah, he knows— that he's going to be feeling this for the next few days, but it's okay with him. Adam's making the pain and the shame of the fucking Viagra go away, and that's all he can ask for right now.

"Adam… Adaaammm… Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam— fuck!" Tommy hisses briefly when Adam moves just a little too far to the left and stabs into him less pleasurably and more painfully. But the singer corrects himself and Tommy wails, coming so hard his body jerks and tightens around Adam's cock, pulling the singer's orgasm a moment sooner than he was expecting.

Panting, Tommy feels Adam pull out and he whimpers, his knees failing him as he slumps against the wall, his body hot and sweaty and sticky and he really, really needs a shower right now. But Adam's looping his arms around his sticky, hot body, pulling him down for cuddles and kisses and, before Tommy can even protest, Adam's lips cover his own. And he thinks only one thought as Adam kisses him.

I'm so getting Sutan back for this… Later.