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by astolat

"You're kidding, right?" Danny said, after Mike Sarver left and the producers redid the roommate assignments.

They weren't kidding.

Danny put his bags down on the bed closer to the window and took a deep breath and said, "Look, it's just a few weeks, no matter what, right? I'll stay out of your hair, you'll stay out of mine—it'll be fine."

"Mm-hm," was all Adam said, tossing his jacket onto the other bed.

It was just—uncomfortable. That was all. Uncomfortable. Danny still felt pretty stupid about not getting the memo on Adam until after they were both in the top thirteen and the freak photos came out online. He'd thought Adam was pretty much trying to have sex with every girl in the place at the same time when he'd done the Stones number.

Now that Danny had gotten the memo, though, he was making sure to keep his distance, which had been okay until Adam decided to notice and get sensitive about it. They'd been by the pool; Danny had jerked back a little quick, maybe, to avoid bumping shoulders, and all of a sudden Adam was looking at him weird, and pulling him aside before dinner to ask, "Hey, is there a problem?"

"No," Danny said.

"Because, you know, if I did something—" Adam said.

"I said there's no problem," Danny said.

Adam paused. "Okay, because if I did something, I'd be happy to apologize," he said, and then he leaned in close and tilted his head and smiled, totally without warmth. "And if the problem is that I'm a cocksucking faggot, you can go fuck yourself."

He'd walked off before Danny had been able to figure out exactly what the right thing to say was.

Silence worked out pretty well anyway. Danny wouldn't have complained if Adam got himself voted off, for a bunch of reasons, but even so the mansion was pretty big, they could avoid each other without a lot of effort, and everyone else picked up on it pretty quick. Except the producers, who apparently thought it was going to make good TV to shove them in together.

It wasn't like Adam did anything Danny could complain about. Other than doing his makeup and his nails and his stretches each morning. What the hell, what kind of guy could do actual splits. He spent a lot of time with his shirt off lying around in 2(x)ist briefs, too, which made it hard to miss that he was goddamn built—not bulked up but all lean muscle, and Danny was pretty sure Adam had to be waxing his chest hair or something.

It crossed the line when he walked in on Adam naked after a shower, though. "What the fuck," Danny said, and jerked right back out of the room, slamming the door. He went to the big powder room down the hall and washed his hands and face like that was going to help scrub his brain clean. Adam had just been standing there over the dresser, buck-naked with the towel in his hand, hair slick and shiny and dripping down his shoulders, his cock just hanging out.

The bathroom door swung open, and Adam walked in with the towel back around his waist, pushed the door shut behind him, and shoved Danny up against the wall and said, "No, excuse me, what the fuck, seriously."

Danny figured that gave him a pass to get physical too, so he shoved Adam back; except that didn't exactly work. Adam leaned into it instead of moving, and Danny was all of a sudden really fucking uncomfortably aware that Adam was actually a pretty big guy.

"Oh, am I making you uncomfortable?" Adam said, slow and almost purring. "I'd be sorry, except I seem to do that just being in the room."

"Back off, Lambert," Danny said.

Adam propped his forearm against the wall next to Danny's head, leaned in even closer so his mouth was somewhere right at Danny's ear and said, "Go ahead and make me, Gokey," and then he fucking stuck his tongue in Danny's ear.

Danny grabbed him by the hips, and the towel slid out from under his hands, leaving him hanging on to bare skin, still a little damp. Adam shoved a hand between them, going after the towel, and then he paused and said, "Oh, sweetheart," mockingly, and then he was pressing the heel of his hand up against Danny's hard-on, rubbing it through his jeans.

"Fuck you," Danny managed, and then they were wrestling his jeans open together, and down past his knees. Adam hauled him across the bathroom, pushed him face against the door, and grabbed the hand lotion off the counter.

"Jesus, wait," Danny said, having a way-too-late moment of sanity after Adam's cock was already partway in, and Adam was screwing the rest of it up into him with these little twists of his hips, back and forth, and it fucking hurt, it fucking hurt, and his cock was banging into the door with every jerk of Adam's hips and dripping shiny spots on the black marble floor.

"No, baby, the only way out is through," Adam said. "Breathe deep for me, there we go," rubbing up and down Danny's hips, and his thighs were big and hot pressed up against Danny's legs, and Jesus, there it went, all the rest of Adam's cock sliding home, and fuck, this felt like nothing else in the world.

"Holy shit," Danny said, whining helplessly, and then Adam started fucking him.

"Yeah," Adam said, panting and low and deliberately ragged in his ear, "yeah, baby, take it, fucking take it," like he thought he was in a goddamn porn flick or something. There was this sharp triumphant edge to his voice that made Danny want to jam an elbow back into his gut, except he fucking couldn't do anything but take it, fold his arms against the door and block his mouth against his bicep and listen to the muffled, raw noises coming out of his own throat.

Adam made it last a long time, mouthing hot wet bites onto the back of Danny's neck under his hair and along his shoulders, giving Danny's cock a stroke every once in a while just to keep him all the way in the game. "Come on," Danny said, finally, desperately, and barely recognized his own strung-out voice.

"Oh, I know you can do better than that," Adam said, and fucked him some more until Danny did do better, until he fucking begged for it; he was practically clawing at the door and heaving into Adam's thrusts by the end, losing everything except vowels, and then he was coming, spurts through Adam's fingers tight on his cock, and Adam had to hold him up long enough to finish inside him and slide out, slow and sharp and intense.

Danny sprawled out on the floor of the bathroom and pressed his cheek to the cold stone, not even trying to move. Adam was propped up against the wall with one leg stretched out and his head tipped back. "Mmm," Adam said, and licked his thumb clean with a long swipe of his ridiculous tongue.

"Jesus, enough," Danny muttered, and pushed himself up and limped—fucking limped—over to the sink, and grabbed the hand towel to clean himself up. "This is never happening again," he told the mirror.

Behind him, Adam laughed and stood up, stretching, and snagged himself the crumpled big towel from the ground. "Whatever gets you through the day," he said, and trailed his fingers across the back of Danny's neck as he left the bathroom.


= End =

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