FIC: Plagued By Men Bingo (RPF, Kris/Various, NC-17, 2/2)
Master Post | Part 1
Kris/Cale. 1797 words. NC-17. Kink: striptease. Also contains: open relationship(s), semi-public (bus) sex
Cure-All
Kris hates being sick in general, hates being sick even more when he has things to do he can't get out of, and especially hates being sick when he has things to do he doesn't want to get out of. It takes every ounce of energy he has to get up on stage every night and there's nothing left afterwards when he's back on the bus wrapped in a blanket with his iPhone, a box of tissues and a bottle of cold medication. But he does it with a smile on his face because that's what he does, and he wants to give it everything he has.
"Sit," says Cale, pushing him back by the shoulder when Kris tries to get up to get something. "What is it?"
"You can't pee for me," says Kris with a little mischievous smirk. "Though I wouldn't put it past you to try."
"Maybe we can run a tube from you to-"
"Urine tubes is definitely my cue to go to bed," says Torres, giving them both a wave as he goes. "Kris, get some sleep."
"Trying," says Kris, and Cale's let him up now but Kris doesn't have to pee, he was actually getting up to get the remote control. Which he's having trouble admitting now, only Cale watches him for a moment and he knows Kris well enough to get it. A moment later the remote is in Kris's lap.
"You really should be sleeping," says Cale, though.
"I know," says Kris and licks his lips and knows he shouldn't be talking either. He's not really, just a few words here and there because it's just so hard not to when someone isn't policing him.
"Do you want me to help you change, too?" says Cale, now that the last of the guys has gone to the bunks. "I won't tell anyone." Kris pushes the blanket back from his shoulder to show that he's already got his pajamas on. Or a t-shirt and boxer shorts, which is pretty much the same thing. "Oh, okay."
Kris gives him a little thumbs up, then sniffles and gropes for the kleenex, even though his head is so stuffed up it probably won't help at all. He knows he looks pathetic when Cale's offer to help him undress was actually sincere.
"You could entertain me," he says a moment later, wondering how long before he can take more drugs.
"Just let me change first," says Cale. "That way if I pass out on you again, I won't wake up with denim creases all over me."
"You could do both at the same time," says Kris. The last word scratches his throat and he starts coughing, and even as Cale obviously comes to understand what Kris is suggesting, he looks concerned about him. Kris waves off the concern, though, and once he stops coughing and has a sip of water he's fine.
Cale smirks at him for a moment, then looks towards the bunks to make sure the rest of the guys really have hit the sack, then closes the door and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He's still smirking as he does it, and Kris smiles back thinking Cale's kidding, but then he keeps going and Kris's mouth suddenly feels a little dry.
It's not like he's never looked before. And it's not like Cale's never looked back. They both know this, and they've both known it for years. And it's not like they've never teased before either, but this seems like that one little step further.
But Kris has to admit, he's entertained. Even if he's entertained in ways he never expected to be.
Cale makes a real show of it, going slowly, button by button, exposing one shoulder and then the other like he's a coy little burlesque girl, then he turns around as the shirt starts sliding down, looking back over his shoulder for Kris's reaction. Part of Kris kind of wants to laugh, and another part of him is very glad he's concealed by a blanket right now.
Once the shirt hits the floor Cale stays with his back to Kris and starts work on his belt. He unbuckles it quickly but pulls it out slowly, and Kris watches it go through loop after loop, all the while thinking about what it's going to be exposing.
He doesn't know how Cale got good at this, and doesn't ask.
Cale looks back over his shoulder again, then finally turns back around so Kris can get a load of his chest. It's nothing new to him but it still feels new all over again, and Kris can't help but be drawn to the width of his shoulders, the patch of hair on chest and especially the trail leading down into his still fastened jeans. He doesn't gesture or anything, but Cale can see exactly where he's looking and both of his hands go straight to his buttons.
"I know what you're waiting for," he teases him, and Kris snorts and smiles at him and shakes his head. Not refusal, just teasing disbelief in return.
Cale undoes the buttons one at a time, and it's hard to miss how much they're already straining over what's beneath them. But Cale doesn't really acknowledge that, just does a little shimmy and turns around again so Kris can watch his ass as the jeans start to slide down his hips. Cale lets them drop once they're past mid-thigh, does another little shimmy and then kicks them away. It's a little less graceful than the rest of his moves, but still entertaining all the same.
He looks back over his shoulder again and he looks a little flushed this time, and maybe a little uncertain but that uncertainty doesn't stop him now. And maybe the look on Kris's face is spurring him onwards, not smiling anymore but lips parted and wet and a flush that has nothing to do with any fever.
Cale shimmies out of his underwear even more slowly, one cheek at a time, then takes a deep breath, a breath deep enough that Kris can see it, and lets those fall to the floor too, kicking out of them just like his jeans.
When he turns around again his hands are in front of his cock but as hard as he is they can't cover everything, and bits and pieces are peeking out on all sides. Kris can't stop looking.
Then, now that he's naked and completely exposed, he drops to his knees on the floor, glances towards the door again and starts carefully pulling Kris's blanket away. And this is the moment of truth. For Kris, at least. The moment of truth for Cale happened some time around the time his pants hit the floor.
"Let me take care of you," says Cale, and Kris doesn’t think this is what anyone else had in mind when the talked about Cale taking good care of him when he was sick but he doesn't care. He wants to be taken care of. He opens his mouth to say something but Cale presses a finger to his lips. "Don't say anything," he says, then touches his fingertips to Kris's throat. "Only say something if you want to say no."
Kris doesn't want to say no, so he doesn't say anything at all.
Cale kisses where his fingertips have just been, then the center of Kris's chest, then his fingers brush over the hard cock that Kris had been going to lengths to conceal with the blanket. He's not even sure why anymore, because from the moment Cale started the striptease it was obvious it was the real thing, and by the time Cale got down to his jeans it was pretty clear that he was as hard as Kris was from it.
Cale's gentle when he pulls Kris's boxers down, just far enough that his cock's free and unrestricted. And he's really going to...yes he's really going to do it. He kisses Kris's stomach, then his navel, then he's kissing down Kris's cock and it feels so amazing. It's so gentle and so quiet and Kris's head starts to feel a little better even with the throb of his blood rushing a little faster, a little harder, all throughout his body.
"Oh," he breathes, and Cale silences him with a light pinch to his hip even as he swallows the head of Kris's cock down. All of Kris's sounds after that are breathy, not throaty, and not even close to being words at all. He's not sure he could've said anything even if he wanted to. He doesn't think Cale's ever done this before, but that's okay, it's sort of easy, Kris thinks.
No, not easy, just intuitive. There are only so many things you can do with a cock in your mouth, and oh, oh, Cale's doing all of them. Kris makes a little strangled sound that almost provokes a cough in him, and when Cale pinches him again he turns it into a long sigh, clutching Cale's hair to give him fair warning. He might be trying to save his voice, but Cale deserves to know when Kris is moments from coming down his throat.
He doesn't even pull away, which Kris thinks is a little bit reckless but then if Cale was going to pick up this cold from him, he probably already has and swallowing Kris's come isn't going to be the deciding factor. He's not even sure colds can be spread that way, and definitely isn't going to ask anyone.
Cale holds on tight to Kris's hip as Kris comes with a shaky gasp, and he swallows a few times, his tongue working against Kris's cock as he goes. A wave of pleasure washes through his whole body and for a moment, just a moment, he completely forgets about being sick.
He only wishes he could last and last and last, but Cale moves his head back finally, and Kris sees that the hand that hasn't been clutching his hip is between his own legs, not moving, just clutching himself hard.
"I don't know if I can-" Kris starts, but Cale silences him with a fingertip again.
"Don't talk," he says. "I can take care of this." He doesn't say what 'this' is, but then he doesn't have to. "I'm going to go change and then I'll come back out here and we can watch bad movies till you fall asleep again."
"Will you carry me to bed when I do?"
"Over my shoulder maybe," says Cale, but Kris is so content right now he actually thinks he would be okay with that.
He still hates being sick, but maybe there are a few upsides to it after all.
Kris/Andrew. 1328 words. NC-17. Kink: silence. Also contains: open relationship, semi-public (stage) sex
Staged
Kris used to do this on the Idols Live tour sometimes, not when they were soundchecking or anything but when no one else was around. He used to go out on the stage and look out at the empty seats and imagine the audience sitting there. Standing there. Cheering there.
As the tour progressed, it got easier to imagine. As the tour progressed, he didn't really need to imagine anymore.
But right now he got that same little rush, that same feeling of anticipation, that in a couple of hours this place was going to be full of people.
"Hey."
The sound was so unexpected that Kris almost jumped. As it was, he whirled around to see who was there even though he recognized the voice, even though he knew exactly who was there before he even looked.
"You scared me."
"How could I scare you?" said Andrew. "I wasn't even sneaking this time."
"That implies that sometimes you are sneaking," said Kris. "Do you sneak up on me often?"
"Only when I have something to gain from it," said Andrew, and smiled at him. "What are you doing?"
"Just looking," said Kris, and turned around again. There weren't even any venue people around right now, there wasn't anyone in the audience, there wasn't even anyone behind him but Andrew. Andrew, whose hand fell on his shoulder a few moments later.
"I thought you might have a few minutes to...."
He didn't finish the sentence, but Kris knew where he was going with that. They'd been doing it for a while now, a couple months at least, finding a few minutes here, a few minutes there. An empty bathroom or an empty dressing room or, when they couldn't find either, just a dark corner for a few moments, a few furtive gropes and the promise of something more later, when they could. It wasn't much, but it was nice. It was exciting and comfortable at the same time.
"Nowhere to go," said Kris regretfully. "Except...."
"If we kick Cale out of the dressing room one more time, he's going to get suspicious."
"Cale knows," said Kris. "But they're actually using it right now."
"Cale knows?"
"Katy told him," said Kris. "It's no big deal. He probably knew anyway. It's Cale."
"Huh," said Andrew, and okay, maybe Kris should've mentioned that earlier but now probably wasn't the time for that conversation. "You have somewhere else for us to go?"
"That depends," said Kris. "How quiet can you be?" Andrew stared at him, silently, and lifted an eyebrow. Kris took his point. "I guess the question is, how quiet can I be?"
"If you're thinking about the sound booth, there are people there," said Andrew.
"I'm thinking about right here," said Kris, or if not right there, where he was standing, then back further in the shadows where no one was standing and no one was looking. "What do you think?"
"I think you're insane," said Andrew, his hand twitching like he wanted to touch him but he didn't dare while they were still here in the light. "But it's not the first time I've thought that, and I'm sure it won't be the last."
"Shhhh," said Kris, and grinned at him, and casually wandered towards the back of the stage. When he felt like he'd left the lights behind, he slowed, and then paused, and then felt Andrew's hand fall against his lower back.
No one said anything, Kris just turned around and the seats of the audience felt very distant now. Everything felt distant, and quiet. They barely even allowed the whisper of cloth, were conscious even of the sounds of breathing. Andrew's hands were on his back, then on his hips, then they were kissing, softly and quietly. Neither one of them made any sound at all.
Kris was dressed casually, t-shirt and jeans that sort of sat on his hips and he was glad he wasn't wearing his tightest right now because that would've made it a lot harder for Andrew to get a hand down his pants. Which he did without a word or even a whisper of intention. Kris bit his lip to keep from making a sound.
Andrew licked his ear and undoid the button of Kris's jeans with his thumb and that was a neat trick, Kris was going to have to learn that one for the next time they did this. Or for five minutes from now when Andrew was going to start to expect reciprocation. His zipper was not completely silent as it went down and the sound felt impossibly loud. But then Andrew's fingers were wrapping around his cock and Kris wasn't so worried about that anymore.
He looked out at the empty seats and for one moment, just a moment, he imagined them full of people to witness this on stage. It wasn't supposed to turn him on, was just a ridiculous and fleeting thought, but he couldn't mistake the jolt of arousal that went through him when he imagined those eyes on him and Andrew, those eyes watching him get off.
Andrew's tongue traced the shell of his ear, then bit gently on it, and Kris had to actively stifle a sound that time. Already he could hear his own breathing and it seemed too loud, too invasive. He ran his fingers down Andrew's shirt, tugging it away from his skin, then used both hands to undo his pants before attempting to get into them, opening the flaps of his jeans with both hands before sliding one inside.
He didn't even look. He didn't have to. He knew what he was going to find.
Andrew's lips were still against his ear and so Kris could hear the hitch in his breath when he ran his thumb over the head of Andrew's cock, found it hot and hard and wet already.
He thought about whispering something, something about the stage, something about the audience, something about performance, but the words died in his throat and he said nothing at all. Words would just diminish this moment. Anything but perfect quiet and their tiny, muffled sounds in it would be intrusive. Their world was reduced just to two mutual sensations, two mutual acts.
Kris turned his head and lifted his chin and they were kissing again, kissing both to silence his words and kissing because it was the only way he had right now to express himself. His hand was just sex, it was just getting off, but his kiss was telling Andrew that it was more than that. It was more than fumbling together in secret.
It was hard to mask the scent of coming, hard to hide the wet spot that inevitably showed up no matter how careful you were, but they were used to it by now, they knew what they were doing. Maybe someone would know what was going on, but maybe they would think it was something and someone else, too.
No one ever really suspected Kris.
It was hardest to stay silent when he came, biting down on Andrew's lip, then his own, and feeling Andrew's palm and fingers catch the most of it. He sucked them clean when Andrew pulled his hand out of Kris's pants, then dropped silently to his knees and sucked Andrew off for the last twenty seconds before he came, stifled sound in his throat and hands in Kris's hair.
They didn't say anything when they cleaned up either, tried not to even breathe too hard, but they stole kisses and smiles and little looks while they softly zipped and buttoned and straightened and tried to present themselves again.
And they didn't say anything afterwards either, when Kris took one last look out at the empty audience and Andrew glanced at his watch. But Kris kissed him one more time, and he saw Andrew's eyes this time and he knew that Andrew understood everything he was telling him.
Kris/Jim Cantiello. 2030 words. NC-17. Kink: fisting. Also contains: open relationship(s)
Occasion
"Do you trust me?" says Kris, and Jim thinks that's the dumbest question he's ever heard. The only person he trusts more than Kris Allen is his own wife. Kris would never hurt anyone on purpose, and he's honest almost to a fault.
"Do you want me to trust you?"
Kris just smiles at him and props his head up on his arm and Jim figures that's a yes.
It's a funny story how they ended up here, naked in bed together once every month or so. A funny story that involves a lot of misunderstandings, a couple of very understanding and very smart wives, and, strangely enough, cheese. But it's also a story Jim doesn't want to dwell on right now, much as he marvels at it every time they end up here, because Kris is looking at him like he's the main course.
"So who's likely to notice if you're walking funny tomorrow?"
"Besides Jess?" he says. "Maybe the guy who runs the bodega if I need to run out for anything. But don't flatter yourself, Allen. I've taken it before and gone to work right after."
"I had something else in mind," says Kris, "if you trust me."
"What, an Adam Lambert-sized dildo?" says Jim, running down the possibilities in his head. "That might get you a limp. The first time. Maybe."
"I don't want to..." Kris starts, then gives Jim's earlobe a little bite. "I just want you to go into this with a completely open mind. I don't want you to expect anything. I promise you can stop me any time."
"When have I ever stopped you?" says Jim. "Except that one time, and chili cheese dogs are just a bad pre-coitus idea all around."
"I thought we agreed not to talk about that night," says Kris, biting his ear again. "So are you game?"
"I'm game," says Jim. "Let the games begin."
Kris smiles at him, that mischievous smile of his, and pushes himself up with his hands on Jim's shoulders, looking at him for a moment. He has a feeling that 'games' might have been an apt choice of words, but then so many things with Kris are, in bed and outside of it too.
"Turn over," says Kris. "I want to make this easy."
"I've heard that before," says Jim. "Do I get to do you after? Is that how this works?"
"Let's just see how you're feeling about that afterwards," said Kris. "You might just want to pass out."
"From pleasure?"
"Let's hope so," says Kris, and started kissing down his back. Jim always likes this part, because he knows where Kris is going with that. He might be full of surprises, but in bed he telegraphs his intentions pretty clearly. Or maybe they've just done this enough know that Jim knows some of his best moves.
So far, this time is no exception. Kris kisses down his back, nibbles against the faint curve of his ass, licks up his cheeks and then spreads them wide. Jim doesn't even think about it anymore, couldn't care less what he looks like right now. Kris is good at what he does, and it feels good, and that's all that matters.
And Kris's tongue...Jim doesn't know if it has something to do with being a singer, knowing exactly what to do with his mouth, but Kris's tongue is amazing. It always has been. If he didn't think it would make him sound like a jackass, Jim would say that Kris was made to do this.
But not professionally. Because that would be taking it too far.
Usually Kris rims him or fingers him, but apparently today he's decided to go with both, and if this is his surprise Jim is going to leave today a very, very happy man.
"If you think that's going to make me walk funny," he says into the pillow, "you completely underestimate my stamina. Or your own."
Kris doesn't say anything, but he does wiggle his tongue and that, Jim figures, is all the answer he's going to get. Even if Kris's singing skills aren't to credit for his excellent oral skills, they are certainly responsible for the strength of his jaw muscles, and his ability to go for longer than...well, anyone Jim has ever known, which is a short list, but still. Kris is at the top of it.
One finger becomes two, and Kris licks right between them, just about as deep inside as you can get with a tongue and making Jim's cock twitch with anticipation. Any minute now Kris is going to reach around and stroke him. Any minute now.
But he doesn't, and two fingers become three, and Kris's mouth is still everywhere on him. slick with saliva and as much lube as it had taken to get this far. Jim hopes he used the flavored stuff, because even if it doesn't really taste much like strawberries, if you ask him, it at least tastes better than the usual stuff. Either way, Kris's tongue is still hard at work and he's not making any complaint at all.
Then three fingers become four and that's new. That's...interesting. Jim moves his hips and a sound escapes him that's halfway between a sigh and a grunt and he's not sure what it means even though he's the one who made it.
"You good?" Kris asks, his words just a breath against Jim's skin, then he kisses in a semicircle around his fingers while he waits for an answer.
"I'm good," says Jim. "Sorry, no witty response. Brain short-circuiting. Just good."
"Good," says Kris, and keeps kissing, keeps making tiny little licks against Jim's sensitive skin as he slowly turns his wrist. And Jim's been fucked pretty well in the past. He can admit that. In present company he even likes to admit that. But this whole fingering thing is pretty new because usually it's a means to an end, a way to get Jim ready for a cock (or something cock-like), or a little added spice to a blowjob.
This is clearly the main event.
"Good, good," he says again, even though Kris hasn't asked, and it's definitely good now, there's something sparking deep inside him and he just wants this as much as he's wanted anything.
And then there's more. And then there's more pushing inside him. Kris has tucked his thumb up against his hand, all his fingers tight together, and Jim is relaxed and open and holy shit it's all going in. Slowly, carefully, but surely.
"Oh shit," he murmurs, his words almost getting lost in the pillow.
"Too much?" says Kris between tiny kisses.
"No," says Jim. "Not too much."
And so Kris keeps going. He keeps going until they're all inside, until Jim is panting and Kris's teeth are sinking into the pale skin of his thigh and he's wrist deep inside him. Then he stops, and Jim breathes, and they're both motionless for a few moments, Jim as the reality of this sets in and Kris as...he waits for the reality to set in for Jim, he figures. While he waits to make sure this isn't going to end here.
For a moment, Jim isn't sure that it isn't. He's not sure of anything at all and his world feels a little more blown than it ever has before. But he's still hard, and his muscles are still twitching and his nerves are firing hard at feeling Kris buried inside him like that. And then, after they've both been still for a little while, Kris starts to move again. Not his arm, which stays wrist deep, but his fingers, slowly and carefully curling them around his thumb until finally, in a moment that should've been small but instead rocks them both a little bit, his hand is in a fist and they're really doing this.
"Okay?" whispers Kris, barely audible. Jim's "okay" in return is even quieter, but they're so still that Kris can hear him just fine.
Then Kris turns his wrist and pushes a little inside and Jim doesn't feel like he's on the cusp of coming but there are sparks behind his eyes and his nerves are sizzling right down his legs and right up his back and there's an ache to it, a low, hard ache, but it's a good feeling. It's a satisfied feeling.
He's still a little shell-shocked from the whole thing, but he's very glad he trusted Kris.
Kris keeps his motions careful and Jim is glad, he doesn't think he could handle anything else, but he wants to come all the same, he wants to be jerked so hard and fast that he spatters all over the sheets. And because he wants all of Kris's attention focused on what he's already doing, Jim does it himself.
It only takes a few moments, a clench of his fist and the turn of Kris's wrist, Kris's breath against his skin and his own thumb brushing over the head of his cock. Jim's breath hitches and he presses his forehead against the pillow and he's coming so hard he sees sparks again. He's coming so hard his ass clenches around Kris's fist and that just makes him come even harder.
It's almost too much, he feels like he's right on the cusp of blacking out or whiting out or whatever you call it when you forget about everything but the sensations you're feeling and float around in them for a little while.
When he comes back to himself, it's because Kris is slowly, but surely, pulling out of his body.
"No," he murmurs, but he knows it's inevitable, he knows he can't actually stay there. But Jim doesn't feel ready for this to be over yet, it's all so big and overwhelming and he can't quite wrap his head around the fact that they just did that.
"Sorry," whispers Kris, and kisses his back, and then Jim's empty. And he can actually feel the emptiness in a physical way, not just the emotional way he usually does when it's over. "I just need a second here."
Jim's eyes are closed and he doesn't even think too hard about what Kris needs a second for until he hears the sharpness of Kris's breathing, the familiar slick of flesh on flesh, then Kris's come hitting the small of his back in short, hot spurts.
"Sorry," Kris murmurs again, but as far as Jim is concerned he has nothing to apologize for. He feels used in the best way possible. "It was that or actually do it with you, and I didn't think you were ready for that."
He's right, Jim probably wasn't, but then Kris's fingers press against his hole and Jim realizes that he's wide open, loose and easy and it would've been so easy for Kris to just drive it in there. The temptation must've been huge.
"Would you be more comfortable with a butt plug?" Kris asks him, like it's the most ordinary question in the world, fingers still pressing gently around the rim of his hole.
"Why, do you carry one around with you now?" Jim asks, and finally he opens his eyes again, looks back over his shoulder to see the dazed but satisfied look on Kris's face. He imagines it's something like the look on his own.
"I might've brought one for the occasion," says Kris. He might've been blushing too, but the flush of exertion would've hidden it even if he is. "Just in case."
Jim thinks about it, he actually does, because before there was the ache of being filled and now there's the ache of being empty, but even though it's more intense than he remembers it being before, he knows it'll pass.
"I'm okay," he says finally. "And I’m not going to pass out, but could we maybe not move for a little while?"
"You're totally going to be limping tomorrow."
"I'm totally going to be limping tomorrow," says Jim, but he smiles as he says it and he already has a lie about stepping on a tack ready for the occasion. "But it was totally worth it."
Kris/Jared Padalecki. 1994 words. NC-17. Kink: enemas. Also contains: intoxication
Alternative
Kris considers himself open-minded, but he wouldn’t consider himself adventurous exactly. At least, not when it comes to things in his personal life. He'll take chances and he'll look on the bright side of any situation, but adventurous? He usually leaves that to other people.
Sometimes, though, other people come to him.
"You want to what?" he says, and the catch in his voice isn't entirely from the sore throat.
Jared smiles at him wickedly and takes his hand and pulls him to the side of the room to make their conversation a little more private. Not that anywhere in the middle of a party is really private, but mostly people are minding their own business. And Kris's voice is scratchy enough right now that he can hardly be heard anyway.
"Just because you don't want to swallow right now, doesn't mean you can't drink," says Jared. "And it doesn't mean I don't swallow."
Kris is used to people flirting with him, but it's not very often they're quite that blatant about it. Actually, he would place this one beyond flirting and right in the territory of propositioning. Actually, it might even be a step beyond propositioning, but Kris isn't even sure what to call that step.
"I don't...I've never...is it...are you sure?" says Kris, and he gets butterflies thinking about it. And then he feels a little weird that he gets butterflies, but whatever, maybe he can be adventurous sometimes too.
"I know what I'm doing," Jared promises him. "I've done this before. Trust me."
Kris doesn't know him all that well actually, not as well as some of his friends, but he does know him well enough to trust him. And he knows that Jared's had two drinks so far, but at his size that barely even registers. Kris is a lot more of a lightweight, but he trusts Jared to know that too.
"I...okay," says Kris before he starts to overthink it. It's not like Jared is going to run around telling people, and this is...okay, Kris is curious. He can admit it. He's curious. "Do we need...stuff?"
"I have what we need," says Jared, and when Kris stares at him trying to figure out where he has what they need, he adds, "back at my apartment. I don't want to do this here. In a public bathroom? No, no way, you can thank me later."
Kris isn't sure if he'll be thanking him later or what, but he feels like he's already committed to this experiment. And when he thinks about what they'll be doing, he realizes that a bathroom stall is the last place he wants to try it.
"Will you judge me if I don't go through with it?" he says, his voice sounding so rough to his own ears that he actually winces.
"Yes," says Jared, and grins at him and shakes his head. "Of course not. I'll just tease you a little. Now stop talking and follow me."
The party really wasn't Kris's thing to begin with, especially on his own and without a lot of guidance. Someone should really figure out one of these days that he always gets himself into some kind of trouble without guidance. Or if not trouble, then he's at least much more prone to adventures.
His head is hurting a little bit by the time they get to Jared's and he thinks about begging off not because of nerves but because his cold is starting to affect more than just his throat, but then Jared rests his fingertips against the back of Kris's neck and it's not even flirting this time but it still sends a little tingle through him.
Kris isn't backing out now, not when they're in the parking lot and not when they're in the hallway and especially not when they're finally inside and Jared is undressing him. He actually doesn't remember a lot about that whole transition from car to apartment, but once the cool air hits his skin he's acutely aware of everything that's happening and everything they're about to do.
"We could skip the getting me drunk part and just do it," says Kris with a tiny little wry smile, looking up at Jared, but Jared grins and shakes his head at him. "Oh. You want to."
"I do," says Jared, leaning in and breathing against Kris's forehead but not kissing it, not doing anything intimate like that. "Don't be weirded out."
"I'm not," says Kris, and it's only a tiny white lie because if he was really weirded out he wouldn't be here. "So how does it work? Do you, like, watch?"
"You'll want me there," says Jared confidently. "Just trust me."
At this point, Kris kind of has to, and when his clothes are laid over the back of a chair, Jared's in a crumpled heap next to them so that they're equally naked, he follows him first into the kitchen, where Jared grabs a bottle of wine, and then into the bathroom.
"You're using the cheap stuff on me?" says Kris, squinting to catch the label.
"It's not like you're going to taste it," Jared reminds him, and Kris blushes as Jared closes the door behind him. He doesn't need to, they're alone in the large apartment, but Kris actually does feel more comfortable this way. More private and intimate, and he's not worrying about making a mess.
It seems a bit clinical at first, which isn't really a kink of Kris's at all, but all the same he appreciates the care Jared is taking, the time he's taking with mixing and prepping. That kind of care, that is more Kris's style, whether he's the one doing it or he's the one receiving it. It helps him relax, even when Jared sits down on a wicker stool and tells Kris to bend over his lap.
Last time Kris did this it was to get a spanking, a recreational spanking, so it's definitely not a turn off. And having things inserted into his behind, well, he does that recreationally too. Especially when Jared starts out by fingering him, lube all over the place
"Drunkenness in three...two...one..." says Jared as he slides the nozzle in, and Kris knows it's not that quick, but then he feels the sensation of being filled up and it's a little weird, it's a little uncomfortable but Jared makes it easy, kissing his shoulder and lightly rubbing his belly. It's over quickly and Kris doesn't feel full at all when Jared pulls it out again, but that's not what they were going for.
He laughs suddenly, and that makes it a little harder to hold it, but Jared is still rubbing his skin-and actually, pinching a little bit too, which feels nicer than Kris thought it would-and Kris manages. For a little while.
"Okay," says Jared finally, running his hand over Kris's bare ass. "How are you doing?"
"Kind of ready to be done?" says Kris, even though he can hold it, it's staring to feel a little uncomfortable.
Jared helps him to his feet, and kindly leaves the room for this part even though Kris figures it was happening whether he left or not. He's dizzy after, and he realizes that the wine's already hitting him, just that fast, and he went from zero to buzzed in the time it took to sit up.
He feels a little shaky when he stands up, both from the sudden rush of alcohol to his head and from his empty stomach and from the reality of what he just did. He holds himself up with the edge of the sink, stares at himself in the mirror for a few moments, his vision blurring around the edges. Then he pulls the door open and finds Jared in the bedroom, leaning back on his hands on the edge of the bed and smiling up at him.
It might be the only time Jared's ever looked up at him.
"Good?" he says, and Kris just smiles back. His throat is still scratchy after all, and maybe he can just stop talking entirely now. Maybe he doesn't need to say anything anymore. Jared grabs his hand and pulls him closer and Kris just climbs right up into his lap, straddling him. "Still want me to take care of you."
He tucks his head up under Jared's chin, kisses him there and trusts Jared to wrap his arms around him and hold him safe and close. Jared's strong enough to hold twice of him.
"You know, you're still lubed up back there," says Jared, though not as much as he was before. "I could just...slip inside."
Jared's a lot bigger than that, but Kris is still a little slippery. Slippery enough. And if he moved just a little, if Jared moved just a little, Kris could just lift up on his knees and...he does, and Jared does, and then the head of his cock is pushing inside as Kris lowers himself down on it. Okay, he wasn't sure this was where this was going when he came over here, but it seems like a great idea right now. Kris is tingling and feels vulnerable and safe and buzzed and nothing could be better than this.
"Oh fuck," murmurs Jared, and Kris likes that he took him by surprise, he likes that he's the adventurous one now. And he likes that Jared never lets go, strong arms around him as he slides further inside, further and further until he's in all the way and Kris feels full again.
He still doesn't say anything, barely even swallows, kisses Jared's jaw and his hair and then his lips when Jared's had enough of the tiny, teasing kisses everywhere else. And Kris rides him. He hangs on and kisses him and rides him hard, his own cock bobbing against his stomach, aching and throbbing and Kris hasn't felt a desperate throb like that in a long time, has always been in a position to take care of it.
Jared doesn't do anything about it either, just grabs hold of one of Kris's butt cheeks and wraps his other arm around Kris's back and pushes up in to him hard and deep. His breath gets faster and harder and Kris can feel it on his shoulder, on his back, as Jared fucks him or he fucks Jared since Kris is still doing most of the moving, pushing and rolling and grinding against him.
Jared isn't quiet when he comes though he doesn't actually say anything, just makes a desperate, satisfied noise.
Kris wants to laugh a little but his throat still aches so he just huffs and breathes and the wine is hitting him so hard right now that the room is swaying. If he tries to rub himself off he's going to lose his balance which means his still hard and leaking he's so ready to come, and all he can do, finally, is lean in and rub up against Jared.
It works, and more quickly than Kris would've expected. He sucks in a harsh breath as he comes, and Jared just grips his ass harder as he rides it out.
Kris more tumbles off his lap than makes a graceful exit, thankfully landing on his back on the bed and spreading out to take up all available space.
"Good, huh?" says Jared, and Kris just rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand and grins up at him and doesn't even try to answer. He's glad they worked everything out beforehand because Kris is way too drunk right now to make decisions. "I'm going to make some tea for your throat, and then maybe we can do it again. Or maybe we can do something else, too."
Kris wonders just what something else means, but he doesn't ask. Whatever it is, it'll be an adventure. So he just lays back and waits for his tea.
Kris/Jensen Ackles. 1800 words. NC-17. Kink: sensation play. Also contains: foodplay, semi-public (bathroom) sex
Drink's On You
Kris isn't even a fan of the show. He doesn't watch much television at all, and when he does it's mostly procedurals, not paranormal or sci-fi stuff. So he notices that the guy at the next table over, in the pub after a Vancouver show, is cute before anyone tells him that actually, he's also kind of famous.
"What does he do?" Kris asks, leaning in so he can't be overheard, but keeping his eyes on the guy.
Cale laughs at him. "He's an actor," he says. "He's on that supernatural show. What's it called again?"
"I can't imagine," says Lizzie dryly, and Kris can feel her attention on him. "Kris?"
Kris knows what she's asking and just shrugs. He'd give her an answer if he had one, but he doesn't know where this is going. He doesn't know where he wants to take this.
"Just be careful," she says, like she always says, but Kris doesn't need to be told that. He's always careful, but that doesn't mean he doesn't look. It doesn't mean he doesn't act sometimes.
He wonders if the guy knows who he is. He wonders if he'd care if he did.
"What's his name?" he asks, even though he's not sure he's ever going to need it.
"Jensen," says Lizzie, and Kris bets she watches his show. He'd bet money on it, if he could find someone to take that bet. "His name's Jensen."
"Jensen," Kris repeats and then he lets it go, because he's hanging with his people after a show and he's not actually here to pick someone up, no matter how pretty he is. Lizzie watches him warily for a little while, but it's not like Kris is going to go over there and hump him on the table. He's still the same guy he was with Katy, he's respectful, he's modest, he doesn't jump into things like this.
"Okay, bathroom break," he says finally, after putting it off as long as he can. But he's been drinking slowly and steadily all evening and he's not more than slightly buzzed but he really does have to drain it at this point.
Cale and Ryland look at one another, then at their watches, and Kris wouldn't be surprised if money changes hands behind his back after he goes. He wonders who won, but not enough to call them on betting on his bathroom habits before he vacates the table for the bathroom on the other side of the bar.
Kris has never been that guy who picks someone up after their shows, he always left that to other people, didn't ask and didn't want to know, but in the last year or so he's been known to do it once or twice. Mostly he just flirts. Guys, girls, it's kind of a new experience for him all around. Not the flirting part, but the possibility that it could actually go further than that.
But it usually doesn't, and he figures tonight's probably no exception since he hasn't even gotten to the flirting part tonight. Except with Cale, and he thinks Cale's wife would probably have a problem with that.
He tosses his paper towel into the overfull garbage can, watches it cling precariously to the edge, and figures he'd better get out of there before it loses its battle so he doesn't feel obligated to pick it up again. He pushes through the bathroom door and runs straight into an immovable object. An immovable object holding a tray of drinks.
It's probably karmic justice for leaving the paper towel to its fate, because the drink at the edge of the tray wobbles and sways and finally tips over the side right onto the front of Kris's pants.
"Oh shit," says the guy holding the tray, and Kris looks up and of course it's Jensen. Of course it is. He's torn between being flustered and being mortified and just laughing. Laughing finally wins. "Well at least you're not taking a swing at me."
"No," says Kris, "but I'm kind of thinking about stealing your pants."
"They'd be a little long on you," says Jensen, then he's urging Kris back through the bathroom door and following him inside, tray of drinks and all.
"They make you carry your own drinks?" Kris asks him, pulling his shirt away from his skin. "I think you need to renegotiate your contract."
The motion dislodges an ice cube which slides straight inside Kris's pants, into his underwear and settling right next to his balls to melt. He hisses and wiggles his hips but in the end he just leaves it there. It's a little bit shocking, the nerves of his groin and leg tingling, but he kind of likes that. A little.
"It was my turn to buy a round," he says, pushing some crumpled paper towel out of the way and sliding the drink tray onto the counter between two of the sinks. "So I guess you know who I am, huh?"
"I asked my friends," says Kris with a little shrug. "Is that a dealbreaker?"
"I asked my friends who you were too," says Jensen. "Kris."
Kris smiles a little bit and shifts his pants again, just a little. The ice is melted but there's still a cold damp, and extra friction from wet cotton against his faintly alert cock. He leans back against the bathroom counter and reaches for some paper towel, and he knows he's not super subtle at this but he's pretty sure right now he doesn't need to be.
"I'm a mess," he says.
"You should get out of those pants," says Jensen.
"I think I kind of like being a mess," says Kris, and rubs the front of his jeans with the paper towel. It's not lewd or anything, but it's also pretty obviously not just to clean himself up. He dislodges another bit of ice from his shirt and it follows that same path down through a gap in his jeans. Kris hisses again, but he doesn't do anything to keep it from lodging in his groin this time.
"It is a good look on you," says Jensen, moving in closer. When Kris just meets his eyes, they know they're on the same page.
But he's still a little unprepared when he feels the cold trickle of liquid on the back of his neck, realizes Jensen has reached past him for another one of the drinks and is letting it trickle down Kris's neck, down his spine. He shivers, but it's definitely not in a bad way. Especially not when Jensen leans in and licks some of it up with a very warm tongue.
"Oh," breathes Kris, and his cock gets harder, and he's into this. He kind of didn't see that coming.
"More where that came from," says Jensen, his voice dropping to a soft rumble, and Kris feels warmth this time, just this side of too hot, spilling down through the hollow of his throat and down over his pecs. His nipples tighten beneath his shirt and can smell the familiar scents of coffee and whiskey mingling over his body. He can actually hear his own breath quicken.
"Touch it," he murmurs, and Jensen presses a hand to Kris's t-shirt where he's spilled. Kris feels the damp, heavy fabric rub against his skin, rub over his nipple. His breath catches and he lets his head fall back as he grips the edge of the counter, and Jensen's mouth is immediately on his throat again, licking it all up.
"I want you so fucking much," he says, and Kris might not've put it in quite those words but he agrees so fast and so hard it's dizzying.
A moment later Kris drops to his knees and opens Jensen's pants and he doesn't even think about it. Maybe he does pick someone up once in a while, but it's still usually a sweet kind of seduction, nothing at all like this. As he sucks Jensen's cock, not opening his pants any further than he needs to to do just that, he feels Jensen slowly upend a shot over his hair, something sticky that slides over his cheekbone, drips off his chin. A couple of droplets catch on his eyelashes and he can't blink them away. He feels sticky and debauched and he sucks even harder. Not that he needs to, because Jensen fists his hair as soon as the drink is gone and Kris can feel it sticking to his palm and then Jensen is choking and coming and Kris is swallowing it all down.
As soon as Jensen lets go of him, slowly, peeling Kris's hair from his hand, Kris stands up again and wipes the droplets from his eyelashes with his fingertips, and lets Jensen lick the sticky-sweet shot from Kris's face. Kris can taste it on his own lips too.
Kris's pants are stained, his shirt is ruined, and his whole body is electric as Jensen reaches down and rubs him through the drenched fabric of his jeans. Kris is going to come in his pants and no one is even going to know it in the midst of the rest of this mess. A trickle of warm sweat joins the trickles of cold soda on his back and his shirt and his pants are sticking to him and Kris positively bucks back against Jensen's hand, suddenly desperate to come. Desperate to add one more fluid to the mess.
Jensen's breath actually catches along with Kris as he feels the warmth soak through Kris's jeans. Kris isn't sure what to say now that it's all over, but Jensen just smiles at him and licks his eyelashes and Kris feels like they don't actually have to say anything at all.
Kris is going to have to go back to his table like this, there's no hope of cleaning up from it, but he looks less like he just had sex than he lost a fight with a tray of mixed drinks, especially with that bit of lemon in his hair. That's probably what he's going to let people think without ever having to speak a word of a lie. They probably wouldn't even believe him if he tried to tell.
When he leaves the bathroom he finds Lizzie standing guard over the door, and he can't quite read that look on her face. It's not disapproving exactly, maybe curious mixed with wary mixed with impatient mixed with a little bit of a incredulous. She doesn't say anything as she escorts him back to the table, and Kris doesn't offer any explanation. And neither, he notices, does Jensen as he returns to his own table in a similar state with a fresh tray of drinks.
It'll be their little secret.
Master Post | Part 1
Kris/Cale. 1797 words. NC-17. Kink: striptease. Also contains: open relationship(s), semi-public (bus) sex
Cure-All
Kris hates being sick in general, hates being sick even more when he has things to do he can't get out of, and especially hates being sick when he has things to do he doesn't want to get out of. It takes every ounce of energy he has to get up on stage every night and there's nothing left afterwards when he's back on the bus wrapped in a blanket with his iPhone, a box of tissues and a bottle of cold medication. But he does it with a smile on his face because that's what he does, and he wants to give it everything he has.
"Sit," says Cale, pushing him back by the shoulder when Kris tries to get up to get something. "What is it?"
"You can't pee for me," says Kris with a little mischievous smirk. "Though I wouldn't put it past you to try."
"Maybe we can run a tube from you to-"
"Urine tubes is definitely my cue to go to bed," says Torres, giving them both a wave as he goes. "Kris, get some sleep."
"Trying," says Kris, and Cale's let him up now but Kris doesn't have to pee, he was actually getting up to get the remote control. Which he's having trouble admitting now, only Cale watches him for a moment and he knows Kris well enough to get it. A moment later the remote is in Kris's lap.
"You really should be sleeping," says Cale, though.
"I know," says Kris and licks his lips and knows he shouldn't be talking either. He's not really, just a few words here and there because it's just so hard not to when someone isn't policing him.
"Do you want me to help you change, too?" says Cale, now that the last of the guys has gone to the bunks. "I won't tell anyone." Kris pushes the blanket back from his shoulder to show that he's already got his pajamas on. Or a t-shirt and boxer shorts, which is pretty much the same thing. "Oh, okay."
Kris gives him a little thumbs up, then sniffles and gropes for the kleenex, even though his head is so stuffed up it probably won't help at all. He knows he looks pathetic when Cale's offer to help him undress was actually sincere.
"You could entertain me," he says a moment later, wondering how long before he can take more drugs.
"Just let me change first," says Cale. "That way if I pass out on you again, I won't wake up with denim creases all over me."
"You could do both at the same time," says Kris. The last word scratches his throat and he starts coughing, and even as Cale obviously comes to understand what Kris is suggesting, he looks concerned about him. Kris waves off the concern, though, and once he stops coughing and has a sip of water he's fine.
Cale smirks at him for a moment, then looks towards the bunks to make sure the rest of the guys really have hit the sack, then closes the door and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He's still smirking as he does it, and Kris smiles back thinking Cale's kidding, but then he keeps going and Kris's mouth suddenly feels a little dry.
It's not like he's never looked before. And it's not like Cale's never looked back. They both know this, and they've both known it for years. And it's not like they've never teased before either, but this seems like that one little step further.
But Kris has to admit, he's entertained. Even if he's entertained in ways he never expected to be.
Cale makes a real show of it, going slowly, button by button, exposing one shoulder and then the other like he's a coy little burlesque girl, then he turns around as the shirt starts sliding down, looking back over his shoulder for Kris's reaction. Part of Kris kind of wants to laugh, and another part of him is very glad he's concealed by a blanket right now.
Once the shirt hits the floor Cale stays with his back to Kris and starts work on his belt. He unbuckles it quickly but pulls it out slowly, and Kris watches it go through loop after loop, all the while thinking about what it's going to be exposing.
He doesn't know how Cale got good at this, and doesn't ask.
Cale looks back over his shoulder again, then finally turns back around so Kris can get a load of his chest. It's nothing new to him but it still feels new all over again, and Kris can't help but be drawn to the width of his shoulders, the patch of hair on chest and especially the trail leading down into his still fastened jeans. He doesn't gesture or anything, but Cale can see exactly where he's looking and both of his hands go straight to his buttons.
"I know what you're waiting for," he teases him, and Kris snorts and smiles at him and shakes his head. Not refusal, just teasing disbelief in return.
Cale undoes the buttons one at a time, and it's hard to miss how much they're already straining over what's beneath them. But Cale doesn't really acknowledge that, just does a little shimmy and turns around again so Kris can watch his ass as the jeans start to slide down his hips. Cale lets them drop once they're past mid-thigh, does another little shimmy and then kicks them away. It's a little less graceful than the rest of his moves, but still entertaining all the same.
He looks back over his shoulder again and he looks a little flushed this time, and maybe a little uncertain but that uncertainty doesn't stop him now. And maybe the look on Kris's face is spurring him onwards, not smiling anymore but lips parted and wet and a flush that has nothing to do with any fever.
Cale shimmies out of his underwear even more slowly, one cheek at a time, then takes a deep breath, a breath deep enough that Kris can see it, and lets those fall to the floor too, kicking out of them just like his jeans.
When he turns around again his hands are in front of his cock but as hard as he is they can't cover everything, and bits and pieces are peeking out on all sides. Kris can't stop looking.
Then, now that he's naked and completely exposed, he drops to his knees on the floor, glances towards the door again and starts carefully pulling Kris's blanket away. And this is the moment of truth. For Kris, at least. The moment of truth for Cale happened some time around the time his pants hit the floor.
"Let me take care of you," says Cale, and Kris doesn’t think this is what anyone else had in mind when the talked about Cale taking good care of him when he was sick but he doesn't care. He wants to be taken care of. He opens his mouth to say something but Cale presses a finger to his lips. "Don't say anything," he says, then touches his fingertips to Kris's throat. "Only say something if you want to say no."
Kris doesn't want to say no, so he doesn't say anything at all.
Cale kisses where his fingertips have just been, then the center of Kris's chest, then his fingers brush over the hard cock that Kris had been going to lengths to conceal with the blanket. He's not even sure why anymore, because from the moment Cale started the striptease it was obvious it was the real thing, and by the time Cale got down to his jeans it was pretty clear that he was as hard as Kris was from it.
Cale's gentle when he pulls Kris's boxers down, just far enough that his cock's free and unrestricted. And he's really going to...yes he's really going to do it. He kisses Kris's stomach, then his navel, then he's kissing down Kris's cock and it feels so amazing. It's so gentle and so quiet and Kris's head starts to feel a little better even with the throb of his blood rushing a little faster, a little harder, all throughout his body.
"Oh," he breathes, and Cale silences him with a light pinch to his hip even as he swallows the head of Kris's cock down. All of Kris's sounds after that are breathy, not throaty, and not even close to being words at all. He's not sure he could've said anything even if he wanted to. He doesn't think Cale's ever done this before, but that's okay, it's sort of easy, Kris thinks.
No, not easy, just intuitive. There are only so many things you can do with a cock in your mouth, and oh, oh, Cale's doing all of them. Kris makes a little strangled sound that almost provokes a cough in him, and when Cale pinches him again he turns it into a long sigh, clutching Cale's hair to give him fair warning. He might be trying to save his voice, but Cale deserves to know when Kris is moments from coming down his throat.
He doesn't even pull away, which Kris thinks is a little bit reckless but then if Cale was going to pick up this cold from him, he probably already has and swallowing Kris's come isn't going to be the deciding factor. He's not even sure colds can be spread that way, and definitely isn't going to ask anyone.
Cale holds on tight to Kris's hip as Kris comes with a shaky gasp, and he swallows a few times, his tongue working against Kris's cock as he goes. A wave of pleasure washes through his whole body and for a moment, just a moment, he completely forgets about being sick.
He only wishes he could last and last and last, but Cale moves his head back finally, and Kris sees that the hand that hasn't been clutching his hip is between his own legs, not moving, just clutching himself hard.
"I don't know if I can-" Kris starts, but Cale silences him with a fingertip again.
"Don't talk," he says. "I can take care of this." He doesn't say what 'this' is, but then he doesn't have to. "I'm going to go change and then I'll come back out here and we can watch bad movies till you fall asleep again."
"Will you carry me to bed when I do?"
"Over my shoulder maybe," says Cale, but Kris is so content right now he actually thinks he would be okay with that.
He still hates being sick, but maybe there are a few upsides to it after all.
Kris/Andrew. 1328 words. NC-17. Kink: silence. Also contains: open relationship, semi-public (stage) sex
Staged
Kris used to do this on the Idols Live tour sometimes, not when they were soundchecking or anything but when no one else was around. He used to go out on the stage and look out at the empty seats and imagine the audience sitting there. Standing there. Cheering there.
As the tour progressed, it got easier to imagine. As the tour progressed, he didn't really need to imagine anymore.
But right now he got that same little rush, that same feeling of anticipation, that in a couple of hours this place was going to be full of people.
"Hey."
The sound was so unexpected that Kris almost jumped. As it was, he whirled around to see who was there even though he recognized the voice, even though he knew exactly who was there before he even looked.
"You scared me."
"How could I scare you?" said Andrew. "I wasn't even sneaking this time."
"That implies that sometimes you are sneaking," said Kris. "Do you sneak up on me often?"
"Only when I have something to gain from it," said Andrew, and smiled at him. "What are you doing?"
"Just looking," said Kris, and turned around again. There weren't even any venue people around right now, there wasn't anyone in the audience, there wasn't even anyone behind him but Andrew. Andrew, whose hand fell on his shoulder a few moments later.
"I thought you might have a few minutes to...."
He didn't finish the sentence, but Kris knew where he was going with that. They'd been doing it for a while now, a couple months at least, finding a few minutes here, a few minutes there. An empty bathroom or an empty dressing room or, when they couldn't find either, just a dark corner for a few moments, a few furtive gropes and the promise of something more later, when they could. It wasn't much, but it was nice. It was exciting and comfortable at the same time.
"Nowhere to go," said Kris regretfully. "Except...."
"If we kick Cale out of the dressing room one more time, he's going to get suspicious."
"Cale knows," said Kris. "But they're actually using it right now."
"Cale knows?"
"Katy told him," said Kris. "It's no big deal. He probably knew anyway. It's Cale."
"Huh," said Andrew, and okay, maybe Kris should've mentioned that earlier but now probably wasn't the time for that conversation. "You have somewhere else for us to go?"
"That depends," said Kris. "How quiet can you be?" Andrew stared at him, silently, and lifted an eyebrow. Kris took his point. "I guess the question is, how quiet can I be?"
"If you're thinking about the sound booth, there are people there," said Andrew.
"I'm thinking about right here," said Kris, or if not right there, where he was standing, then back further in the shadows where no one was standing and no one was looking. "What do you think?"
"I think you're insane," said Andrew, his hand twitching like he wanted to touch him but he didn't dare while they were still here in the light. "But it's not the first time I've thought that, and I'm sure it won't be the last."
"Shhhh," said Kris, and grinned at him, and casually wandered towards the back of the stage. When he felt like he'd left the lights behind, he slowed, and then paused, and then felt Andrew's hand fall against his lower back.
No one said anything, Kris just turned around and the seats of the audience felt very distant now. Everything felt distant, and quiet. They barely even allowed the whisper of cloth, were conscious even of the sounds of breathing. Andrew's hands were on his back, then on his hips, then they were kissing, softly and quietly. Neither one of them made any sound at all.
Kris was dressed casually, t-shirt and jeans that sort of sat on his hips and he was glad he wasn't wearing his tightest right now because that would've made it a lot harder for Andrew to get a hand down his pants. Which he did without a word or even a whisper of intention. Kris bit his lip to keep from making a sound.
Andrew licked his ear and undoid the button of Kris's jeans with his thumb and that was a neat trick, Kris was going to have to learn that one for the next time they did this. Or for five minutes from now when Andrew was going to start to expect reciprocation. His zipper was not completely silent as it went down and the sound felt impossibly loud. But then Andrew's fingers were wrapping around his cock and Kris wasn't so worried about that anymore.
He looked out at the empty seats and for one moment, just a moment, he imagined them full of people to witness this on stage. It wasn't supposed to turn him on, was just a ridiculous and fleeting thought, but he couldn't mistake the jolt of arousal that went through him when he imagined those eyes on him and Andrew, those eyes watching him get off.
Andrew's tongue traced the shell of his ear, then bit gently on it, and Kris had to actively stifle a sound that time. Already he could hear his own breathing and it seemed too loud, too invasive. He ran his fingers down Andrew's shirt, tugging it away from his skin, then used both hands to undo his pants before attempting to get into them, opening the flaps of his jeans with both hands before sliding one inside.
He didn't even look. He didn't have to. He knew what he was going to find.
Andrew's lips were still against his ear and so Kris could hear the hitch in his breath when he ran his thumb over the head of Andrew's cock, found it hot and hard and wet already.
He thought about whispering something, something about the stage, something about the audience, something about performance, but the words died in his throat and he said nothing at all. Words would just diminish this moment. Anything but perfect quiet and their tiny, muffled sounds in it would be intrusive. Their world was reduced just to two mutual sensations, two mutual acts.
Kris turned his head and lifted his chin and they were kissing again, kissing both to silence his words and kissing because it was the only way he had right now to express himself. His hand was just sex, it was just getting off, but his kiss was telling Andrew that it was more than that. It was more than fumbling together in secret.
It was hard to mask the scent of coming, hard to hide the wet spot that inevitably showed up no matter how careful you were, but they were used to it by now, they knew what they were doing. Maybe someone would know what was going on, but maybe they would think it was something and someone else, too.
No one ever really suspected Kris.
It was hardest to stay silent when he came, biting down on Andrew's lip, then his own, and feeling Andrew's palm and fingers catch the most of it. He sucked them clean when Andrew pulled his hand out of Kris's pants, then dropped silently to his knees and sucked Andrew off for the last twenty seconds before he came, stifled sound in his throat and hands in Kris's hair.
They didn't say anything when they cleaned up either, tried not to even breathe too hard, but they stole kisses and smiles and little looks while they softly zipped and buttoned and straightened and tried to present themselves again.
And they didn't say anything afterwards either, when Kris took one last look out at the empty audience and Andrew glanced at his watch. But Kris kissed him one more time, and he saw Andrew's eyes this time and he knew that Andrew understood everything he was telling him.
Kris/Jim Cantiello. 2030 words. NC-17. Kink: fisting. Also contains: open relationship(s)
Occasion
"Do you trust me?" says Kris, and Jim thinks that's the dumbest question he's ever heard. The only person he trusts more than Kris Allen is his own wife. Kris would never hurt anyone on purpose, and he's honest almost to a fault.
"Do you want me to trust you?"
Kris just smiles at him and props his head up on his arm and Jim figures that's a yes.
It's a funny story how they ended up here, naked in bed together once every month or so. A funny story that involves a lot of misunderstandings, a couple of very understanding and very smart wives, and, strangely enough, cheese. But it's also a story Jim doesn't want to dwell on right now, much as he marvels at it every time they end up here, because Kris is looking at him like he's the main course.
"So who's likely to notice if you're walking funny tomorrow?"
"Besides Jess?" he says. "Maybe the guy who runs the bodega if I need to run out for anything. But don't flatter yourself, Allen. I've taken it before and gone to work right after."
"I had something else in mind," says Kris, "if you trust me."
"What, an Adam Lambert-sized dildo?" says Jim, running down the possibilities in his head. "That might get you a limp. The first time. Maybe."
"I don't want to..." Kris starts, then gives Jim's earlobe a little bite. "I just want you to go into this with a completely open mind. I don't want you to expect anything. I promise you can stop me any time."
"When have I ever stopped you?" says Jim. "Except that one time, and chili cheese dogs are just a bad pre-coitus idea all around."
"I thought we agreed not to talk about that night," says Kris, biting his ear again. "So are you game?"
"I'm game," says Jim. "Let the games begin."
Kris smiles at him, that mischievous smile of his, and pushes himself up with his hands on Jim's shoulders, looking at him for a moment. He has a feeling that 'games' might have been an apt choice of words, but then so many things with Kris are, in bed and outside of it too.
"Turn over," says Kris. "I want to make this easy."
"I've heard that before," says Jim. "Do I get to do you after? Is that how this works?"
"Let's just see how you're feeling about that afterwards," said Kris. "You might just want to pass out."
"From pleasure?"
"Let's hope so," says Kris, and started kissing down his back. Jim always likes this part, because he knows where Kris is going with that. He might be full of surprises, but in bed he telegraphs his intentions pretty clearly. Or maybe they've just done this enough know that Jim knows some of his best moves.
So far, this time is no exception. Kris kisses down his back, nibbles against the faint curve of his ass, licks up his cheeks and then spreads them wide. Jim doesn't even think about it anymore, couldn't care less what he looks like right now. Kris is good at what he does, and it feels good, and that's all that matters.
And Kris's tongue...Jim doesn't know if it has something to do with being a singer, knowing exactly what to do with his mouth, but Kris's tongue is amazing. It always has been. If he didn't think it would make him sound like a jackass, Jim would say that Kris was made to do this.
But not professionally. Because that would be taking it too far.
Usually Kris rims him or fingers him, but apparently today he's decided to go with both, and if this is his surprise Jim is going to leave today a very, very happy man.
"If you think that's going to make me walk funny," he says into the pillow, "you completely underestimate my stamina. Or your own."
Kris doesn't say anything, but he does wiggle his tongue and that, Jim figures, is all the answer he's going to get. Even if Kris's singing skills aren't to credit for his excellent oral skills, they are certainly responsible for the strength of his jaw muscles, and his ability to go for longer than...well, anyone Jim has ever known, which is a short list, but still. Kris is at the top of it.
One finger becomes two, and Kris licks right between them, just about as deep inside as you can get with a tongue and making Jim's cock twitch with anticipation. Any minute now Kris is going to reach around and stroke him. Any minute now.
But he doesn't, and two fingers become three, and Kris's mouth is still everywhere on him. slick with saliva and as much lube as it had taken to get this far. Jim hopes he used the flavored stuff, because even if it doesn't really taste much like strawberries, if you ask him, it at least tastes better than the usual stuff. Either way, Kris's tongue is still hard at work and he's not making any complaint at all.
Then three fingers become four and that's new. That's...interesting. Jim moves his hips and a sound escapes him that's halfway between a sigh and a grunt and he's not sure what it means even though he's the one who made it.
"You good?" Kris asks, his words just a breath against Jim's skin, then he kisses in a semicircle around his fingers while he waits for an answer.
"I'm good," says Jim. "Sorry, no witty response. Brain short-circuiting. Just good."
"Good," says Kris, and keeps kissing, keeps making tiny little licks against Jim's sensitive skin as he slowly turns his wrist. And Jim's been fucked pretty well in the past. He can admit that. In present company he even likes to admit that. But this whole fingering thing is pretty new because usually it's a means to an end, a way to get Jim ready for a cock (or something cock-like), or a little added spice to a blowjob.
This is clearly the main event.
"Good, good," he says again, even though Kris hasn't asked, and it's definitely good now, there's something sparking deep inside him and he just wants this as much as he's wanted anything.
And then there's more. And then there's more pushing inside him. Kris has tucked his thumb up against his hand, all his fingers tight together, and Jim is relaxed and open and holy shit it's all going in. Slowly, carefully, but surely.
"Oh shit," he murmurs, his words almost getting lost in the pillow.
"Too much?" says Kris between tiny kisses.
"No," says Jim. "Not too much."
And so Kris keeps going. He keeps going until they're all inside, until Jim is panting and Kris's teeth are sinking into the pale skin of his thigh and he's wrist deep inside him. Then he stops, and Jim breathes, and they're both motionless for a few moments, Jim as the reality of this sets in and Kris as...he waits for the reality to set in for Jim, he figures. While he waits to make sure this isn't going to end here.
For a moment, Jim isn't sure that it isn't. He's not sure of anything at all and his world feels a little more blown than it ever has before. But he's still hard, and his muscles are still twitching and his nerves are firing hard at feeling Kris buried inside him like that. And then, after they've both been still for a little while, Kris starts to move again. Not his arm, which stays wrist deep, but his fingers, slowly and carefully curling them around his thumb until finally, in a moment that should've been small but instead rocks them both a little bit, his hand is in a fist and they're really doing this.
"Okay?" whispers Kris, barely audible. Jim's "okay" in return is even quieter, but they're so still that Kris can hear him just fine.
Then Kris turns his wrist and pushes a little inside and Jim doesn't feel like he's on the cusp of coming but there are sparks behind his eyes and his nerves are sizzling right down his legs and right up his back and there's an ache to it, a low, hard ache, but it's a good feeling. It's a satisfied feeling.
He's still a little shell-shocked from the whole thing, but he's very glad he trusted Kris.
Kris keeps his motions careful and Jim is glad, he doesn't think he could handle anything else, but he wants to come all the same, he wants to be jerked so hard and fast that he spatters all over the sheets. And because he wants all of Kris's attention focused on what he's already doing, Jim does it himself.
It only takes a few moments, a clench of his fist and the turn of Kris's wrist, Kris's breath against his skin and his own thumb brushing over the head of his cock. Jim's breath hitches and he presses his forehead against the pillow and he's coming so hard he sees sparks again. He's coming so hard his ass clenches around Kris's fist and that just makes him come even harder.
It's almost too much, he feels like he's right on the cusp of blacking out or whiting out or whatever you call it when you forget about everything but the sensations you're feeling and float around in them for a little while.
When he comes back to himself, it's because Kris is slowly, but surely, pulling out of his body.
"No," he murmurs, but he knows it's inevitable, he knows he can't actually stay there. But Jim doesn't feel ready for this to be over yet, it's all so big and overwhelming and he can't quite wrap his head around the fact that they just did that.
"Sorry," whispers Kris, and kisses his back, and then Jim's empty. And he can actually feel the emptiness in a physical way, not just the emotional way he usually does when it's over. "I just need a second here."
Jim's eyes are closed and he doesn't even think too hard about what Kris needs a second for until he hears the sharpness of Kris's breathing, the familiar slick of flesh on flesh, then Kris's come hitting the small of his back in short, hot spurts.
"Sorry," Kris murmurs again, but as far as Jim is concerned he has nothing to apologize for. He feels used in the best way possible. "It was that or actually do it with you, and I didn't think you were ready for that."
He's right, Jim probably wasn't, but then Kris's fingers press against his hole and Jim realizes that he's wide open, loose and easy and it would've been so easy for Kris to just drive it in there. The temptation must've been huge.
"Would you be more comfortable with a butt plug?" Kris asks him, like it's the most ordinary question in the world, fingers still pressing gently around the rim of his hole.
"Why, do you carry one around with you now?" Jim asks, and finally he opens his eyes again, looks back over his shoulder to see the dazed but satisfied look on Kris's face. He imagines it's something like the look on his own.
"I might've brought one for the occasion," says Kris. He might've been blushing too, but the flush of exertion would've hidden it even if he is. "Just in case."
Jim thinks about it, he actually does, because before there was the ache of being filled and now there's the ache of being empty, but even though it's more intense than he remembers it being before, he knows it'll pass.
"I'm okay," he says finally. "And I’m not going to pass out, but could we maybe not move for a little while?"
"You're totally going to be limping tomorrow."
"I'm totally going to be limping tomorrow," says Jim, but he smiles as he says it and he already has a lie about stepping on a tack ready for the occasion. "But it was totally worth it."
Kris/Jared Padalecki. 1994 words. NC-17. Kink: enemas. Also contains: intoxication
Alternative
Kris considers himself open-minded, but he wouldn’t consider himself adventurous exactly. At least, not when it comes to things in his personal life. He'll take chances and he'll look on the bright side of any situation, but adventurous? He usually leaves that to other people.
Sometimes, though, other people come to him.
"You want to what?" he says, and the catch in his voice isn't entirely from the sore throat.
Jared smiles at him wickedly and takes his hand and pulls him to the side of the room to make their conversation a little more private. Not that anywhere in the middle of a party is really private, but mostly people are minding their own business. And Kris's voice is scratchy enough right now that he can hardly be heard anyway.
"Just because you don't want to swallow right now, doesn't mean you can't drink," says Jared. "And it doesn't mean I don't swallow."
Kris is used to people flirting with him, but it's not very often they're quite that blatant about it. Actually, he would place this one beyond flirting and right in the territory of propositioning. Actually, it might even be a step beyond propositioning, but Kris isn't even sure what to call that step.
"I don't...I've never...is it...are you sure?" says Kris, and he gets butterflies thinking about it. And then he feels a little weird that he gets butterflies, but whatever, maybe he can be adventurous sometimes too.
"I know what I'm doing," Jared promises him. "I've done this before. Trust me."
Kris doesn't know him all that well actually, not as well as some of his friends, but he does know him well enough to trust him. And he knows that Jared's had two drinks so far, but at his size that barely even registers. Kris is a lot more of a lightweight, but he trusts Jared to know that too.
"I...okay," says Kris before he starts to overthink it. It's not like Jared is going to run around telling people, and this is...okay, Kris is curious. He can admit it. He's curious. "Do we need...stuff?"
"I have what we need," says Jared, and when Kris stares at him trying to figure out where he has what they need, he adds, "back at my apartment. I don't want to do this here. In a public bathroom? No, no way, you can thank me later."
Kris isn't sure if he'll be thanking him later or what, but he feels like he's already committed to this experiment. And when he thinks about what they'll be doing, he realizes that a bathroom stall is the last place he wants to try it.
"Will you judge me if I don't go through with it?" he says, his voice sounding so rough to his own ears that he actually winces.
"Yes," says Jared, and grins at him and shakes his head. "Of course not. I'll just tease you a little. Now stop talking and follow me."
The party really wasn't Kris's thing to begin with, especially on his own and without a lot of guidance. Someone should really figure out one of these days that he always gets himself into some kind of trouble without guidance. Or if not trouble, then he's at least much more prone to adventures.
His head is hurting a little bit by the time they get to Jared's and he thinks about begging off not because of nerves but because his cold is starting to affect more than just his throat, but then Jared rests his fingertips against the back of Kris's neck and it's not even flirting this time but it still sends a little tingle through him.
Kris isn't backing out now, not when they're in the parking lot and not when they're in the hallway and especially not when they're finally inside and Jared is undressing him. He actually doesn't remember a lot about that whole transition from car to apartment, but once the cool air hits his skin he's acutely aware of everything that's happening and everything they're about to do.
"We could skip the getting me drunk part and just do it," says Kris with a tiny little wry smile, looking up at Jared, but Jared grins and shakes his head at him. "Oh. You want to."
"I do," says Jared, leaning in and breathing against Kris's forehead but not kissing it, not doing anything intimate like that. "Don't be weirded out."
"I'm not," says Kris, and it's only a tiny white lie because if he was really weirded out he wouldn't be here. "So how does it work? Do you, like, watch?"
"You'll want me there," says Jared confidently. "Just trust me."
At this point, Kris kind of has to, and when his clothes are laid over the back of a chair, Jared's in a crumpled heap next to them so that they're equally naked, he follows him first into the kitchen, where Jared grabs a bottle of wine, and then into the bathroom.
"You're using the cheap stuff on me?" says Kris, squinting to catch the label.
"It's not like you're going to taste it," Jared reminds him, and Kris blushes as Jared closes the door behind him. He doesn't need to, they're alone in the large apartment, but Kris actually does feel more comfortable this way. More private and intimate, and he's not worrying about making a mess.
It seems a bit clinical at first, which isn't really a kink of Kris's at all, but all the same he appreciates the care Jared is taking, the time he's taking with mixing and prepping. That kind of care, that is more Kris's style, whether he's the one doing it or he's the one receiving it. It helps him relax, even when Jared sits down on a wicker stool and tells Kris to bend over his lap.
Last time Kris did this it was to get a spanking, a recreational spanking, so it's definitely not a turn off. And having things inserted into his behind, well, he does that recreationally too. Especially when Jared starts out by fingering him, lube all over the place
"Drunkenness in three...two...one..." says Jared as he slides the nozzle in, and Kris knows it's not that quick, but then he feels the sensation of being filled up and it's a little weird, it's a little uncomfortable but Jared makes it easy, kissing his shoulder and lightly rubbing his belly. It's over quickly and Kris doesn't feel full at all when Jared pulls it out again, but that's not what they were going for.
He laughs suddenly, and that makes it a little harder to hold it, but Jared is still rubbing his skin-and actually, pinching a little bit too, which feels nicer than Kris thought it would-and Kris manages. For a little while.
"Okay," says Jared finally, running his hand over Kris's bare ass. "How are you doing?"
"Kind of ready to be done?" says Kris, even though he can hold it, it's staring to feel a little uncomfortable.
Jared helps him to his feet, and kindly leaves the room for this part even though Kris figures it was happening whether he left or not. He's dizzy after, and he realizes that the wine's already hitting him, just that fast, and he went from zero to buzzed in the time it took to sit up.
He feels a little shaky when he stands up, both from the sudden rush of alcohol to his head and from his empty stomach and from the reality of what he just did. He holds himself up with the edge of the sink, stares at himself in the mirror for a few moments, his vision blurring around the edges. Then he pulls the door open and finds Jared in the bedroom, leaning back on his hands on the edge of the bed and smiling up at him.
It might be the only time Jared's ever looked up at him.
"Good?" he says, and Kris just smiles back. His throat is still scratchy after all, and maybe he can just stop talking entirely now. Maybe he doesn't need to say anything anymore. Jared grabs his hand and pulls him closer and Kris just climbs right up into his lap, straddling him. "Still want me to take care of you."
He tucks his head up under Jared's chin, kisses him there and trusts Jared to wrap his arms around him and hold him safe and close. Jared's strong enough to hold twice of him.
"You know, you're still lubed up back there," says Jared, though not as much as he was before. "I could just...slip inside."
Jared's a lot bigger than that, but Kris is still a little slippery. Slippery enough. And if he moved just a little, if Jared moved just a little, Kris could just lift up on his knees and...he does, and Jared does, and then the head of his cock is pushing inside as Kris lowers himself down on it. Okay, he wasn't sure this was where this was going when he came over here, but it seems like a great idea right now. Kris is tingling and feels vulnerable and safe and buzzed and nothing could be better than this.
"Oh fuck," murmurs Jared, and Kris likes that he took him by surprise, he likes that he's the adventurous one now. And he likes that Jared never lets go, strong arms around him as he slides further inside, further and further until he's in all the way and Kris feels full again.
He still doesn't say anything, barely even swallows, kisses Jared's jaw and his hair and then his lips when Jared's had enough of the tiny, teasing kisses everywhere else. And Kris rides him. He hangs on and kisses him and rides him hard, his own cock bobbing against his stomach, aching and throbbing and Kris hasn't felt a desperate throb like that in a long time, has always been in a position to take care of it.
Jared doesn't do anything about it either, just grabs hold of one of Kris's butt cheeks and wraps his other arm around Kris's back and pushes up in to him hard and deep. His breath gets faster and harder and Kris can feel it on his shoulder, on his back, as Jared fucks him or he fucks Jared since Kris is still doing most of the moving, pushing and rolling and grinding against him.
Jared isn't quiet when he comes though he doesn't actually say anything, just makes a desperate, satisfied noise.
Kris wants to laugh a little but his throat still aches so he just huffs and breathes and the wine is hitting him so hard right now that the room is swaying. If he tries to rub himself off he's going to lose his balance which means his still hard and leaking he's so ready to come, and all he can do, finally, is lean in and rub up against Jared.
It works, and more quickly than Kris would've expected. He sucks in a harsh breath as he comes, and Jared just grips his ass harder as he rides it out.
Kris more tumbles off his lap than makes a graceful exit, thankfully landing on his back on the bed and spreading out to take up all available space.
"Good, huh?" says Jared, and Kris just rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand and grins up at him and doesn't even try to answer. He's glad they worked everything out beforehand because Kris is way too drunk right now to make decisions. "I'm going to make some tea for your throat, and then maybe we can do it again. Or maybe we can do something else, too."
Kris wonders just what something else means, but he doesn't ask. Whatever it is, it'll be an adventure. So he just lays back and waits for his tea.
Kris/Jensen Ackles. 1800 words. NC-17. Kink: sensation play. Also contains: foodplay, semi-public (bathroom) sex
Drink's On You
Kris isn't even a fan of the show. He doesn't watch much television at all, and when he does it's mostly procedurals, not paranormal or sci-fi stuff. So he notices that the guy at the next table over, in the pub after a Vancouver show, is cute before anyone tells him that actually, he's also kind of famous.
"What does he do?" Kris asks, leaning in so he can't be overheard, but keeping his eyes on the guy.
Cale laughs at him. "He's an actor," he says. "He's on that supernatural show. What's it called again?"
"I can't imagine," says Lizzie dryly, and Kris can feel her attention on him. "Kris?"
Kris knows what she's asking and just shrugs. He'd give her an answer if he had one, but he doesn't know where this is going. He doesn't know where he wants to take this.
"Just be careful," she says, like she always says, but Kris doesn't need to be told that. He's always careful, but that doesn't mean he doesn't look. It doesn't mean he doesn't act sometimes.
He wonders if the guy knows who he is. He wonders if he'd care if he did.
"What's his name?" he asks, even though he's not sure he's ever going to need it.
"Jensen," says Lizzie, and Kris bets she watches his show. He'd bet money on it, if he could find someone to take that bet. "His name's Jensen."
"Jensen," Kris repeats and then he lets it go, because he's hanging with his people after a show and he's not actually here to pick someone up, no matter how pretty he is. Lizzie watches him warily for a little while, but it's not like Kris is going to go over there and hump him on the table. He's still the same guy he was with Katy, he's respectful, he's modest, he doesn't jump into things like this.
"Okay, bathroom break," he says finally, after putting it off as long as he can. But he's been drinking slowly and steadily all evening and he's not more than slightly buzzed but he really does have to drain it at this point.
Cale and Ryland look at one another, then at their watches, and Kris wouldn't be surprised if money changes hands behind his back after he goes. He wonders who won, but not enough to call them on betting on his bathroom habits before he vacates the table for the bathroom on the other side of the bar.
Kris has never been that guy who picks someone up after their shows, he always left that to other people, didn't ask and didn't want to know, but in the last year or so he's been known to do it once or twice. Mostly he just flirts. Guys, girls, it's kind of a new experience for him all around. Not the flirting part, but the possibility that it could actually go further than that.
But it usually doesn't, and he figures tonight's probably no exception since he hasn't even gotten to the flirting part tonight. Except with Cale, and he thinks Cale's wife would probably have a problem with that.
He tosses his paper towel into the overfull garbage can, watches it cling precariously to the edge, and figures he'd better get out of there before it loses its battle so he doesn't feel obligated to pick it up again. He pushes through the bathroom door and runs straight into an immovable object. An immovable object holding a tray of drinks.
It's probably karmic justice for leaving the paper towel to its fate, because the drink at the edge of the tray wobbles and sways and finally tips over the side right onto the front of Kris's pants.
"Oh shit," says the guy holding the tray, and Kris looks up and of course it's Jensen. Of course it is. He's torn between being flustered and being mortified and just laughing. Laughing finally wins. "Well at least you're not taking a swing at me."
"No," says Kris, "but I'm kind of thinking about stealing your pants."
"They'd be a little long on you," says Jensen, then he's urging Kris back through the bathroom door and following him inside, tray of drinks and all.
"They make you carry your own drinks?" Kris asks him, pulling his shirt away from his skin. "I think you need to renegotiate your contract."
The motion dislodges an ice cube which slides straight inside Kris's pants, into his underwear and settling right next to his balls to melt. He hisses and wiggles his hips but in the end he just leaves it there. It's a little bit shocking, the nerves of his groin and leg tingling, but he kind of likes that. A little.
"It was my turn to buy a round," he says, pushing some crumpled paper towel out of the way and sliding the drink tray onto the counter between two of the sinks. "So I guess you know who I am, huh?"
"I asked my friends," says Kris with a little shrug. "Is that a dealbreaker?"
"I asked my friends who you were too," says Jensen. "Kris."
Kris smiles a little bit and shifts his pants again, just a little. The ice is melted but there's still a cold damp, and extra friction from wet cotton against his faintly alert cock. He leans back against the bathroom counter and reaches for some paper towel, and he knows he's not super subtle at this but he's pretty sure right now he doesn't need to be.
"I'm a mess," he says.
"You should get out of those pants," says Jensen.
"I think I kind of like being a mess," says Kris, and rubs the front of his jeans with the paper towel. It's not lewd or anything, but it's also pretty obviously not just to clean himself up. He dislodges another bit of ice from his shirt and it follows that same path down through a gap in his jeans. Kris hisses again, but he doesn't do anything to keep it from lodging in his groin this time.
"It is a good look on you," says Jensen, moving in closer. When Kris just meets his eyes, they know they're on the same page.
But he's still a little unprepared when he feels the cold trickle of liquid on the back of his neck, realizes Jensen has reached past him for another one of the drinks and is letting it trickle down Kris's neck, down his spine. He shivers, but it's definitely not in a bad way. Especially not when Jensen leans in and licks some of it up with a very warm tongue.
"Oh," breathes Kris, and his cock gets harder, and he's into this. He kind of didn't see that coming.
"More where that came from," says Jensen, his voice dropping to a soft rumble, and Kris feels warmth this time, just this side of too hot, spilling down through the hollow of his throat and down over his pecs. His nipples tighten beneath his shirt and can smell the familiar scents of coffee and whiskey mingling over his body. He can actually hear his own breath quicken.
"Touch it," he murmurs, and Jensen presses a hand to Kris's t-shirt where he's spilled. Kris feels the damp, heavy fabric rub against his skin, rub over his nipple. His breath catches and he lets his head fall back as he grips the edge of the counter, and Jensen's mouth is immediately on his throat again, licking it all up.
"I want you so fucking much," he says, and Kris might not've put it in quite those words but he agrees so fast and so hard it's dizzying.
A moment later Kris drops to his knees and opens Jensen's pants and he doesn't even think about it. Maybe he does pick someone up once in a while, but it's still usually a sweet kind of seduction, nothing at all like this. As he sucks Jensen's cock, not opening his pants any further than he needs to to do just that, he feels Jensen slowly upend a shot over his hair, something sticky that slides over his cheekbone, drips off his chin. A couple of droplets catch on his eyelashes and he can't blink them away. He feels sticky and debauched and he sucks even harder. Not that he needs to, because Jensen fists his hair as soon as the drink is gone and Kris can feel it sticking to his palm and then Jensen is choking and coming and Kris is swallowing it all down.
As soon as Jensen lets go of him, slowly, peeling Kris's hair from his hand, Kris stands up again and wipes the droplets from his eyelashes with his fingertips, and lets Jensen lick the sticky-sweet shot from Kris's face. Kris can taste it on his own lips too.
Kris's pants are stained, his shirt is ruined, and his whole body is electric as Jensen reaches down and rubs him through the drenched fabric of his jeans. Kris is going to come in his pants and no one is even going to know it in the midst of the rest of this mess. A trickle of warm sweat joins the trickles of cold soda on his back and his shirt and his pants are sticking to him and Kris positively bucks back against Jensen's hand, suddenly desperate to come. Desperate to add one more fluid to the mess.
Jensen's breath actually catches along with Kris as he feels the warmth soak through Kris's jeans. Kris isn't sure what to say now that it's all over, but Jensen just smiles at him and licks his eyelashes and Kris feels like they don't actually have to say anything at all.
Kris is going to have to go back to his table like this, there's no hope of cleaning up from it, but he looks less like he just had sex than he lost a fight with a tray of mixed drinks, especially with that bit of lemon in his hair. That's probably what he's going to let people think without ever having to speak a word of a lie. They probably wouldn't even believe him if he tried to tell.
When he leaves the bathroom he finds Lizzie standing guard over the door, and he can't quite read that look on her face. It's not disapproving exactly, maybe curious mixed with wary mixed with impatient mixed with a little bit of a incredulous. She doesn't say anything as she escorts him back to the table, and Kris doesn't offer any explanation. And neither, he notices, does Jensen as he returns to his own table in a similar state with a fresh tray of drinks.
It'll be their little secret.
Master Post | Part 1