AI8 fic: Colliding with Reality, Part 5b: Sex, Lies and Videotape
Series Title: Colliding with Reality
Title: Part 5b: Sex, Lies and Videotape
Author: dark_orion
Pairing: Kradam
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Even from across the soundstage, Kris can tell that something is off. Part the fifth, in which we deal with Adam's martyr complex, relationship angst, and Sarver's right godly video.
Author's Notes: Um...hi? Anybody remember this little story? Sorry about the long delay, but about halfway through writing this part (which started about a month and a half ago at this point) real life went *RAWR*, and writing anything was the last thing on my mind. Anyway, finally got back on track and finished up this part, and I still have aspirations about a least one more. I've also gone back to do a little clean-up on previous parts, fixing grammar whatnots, those things that SpellCheck doesn't catch. So, hope you guys enjoy, and because at this point, maybe a refresher is required, the previous parts:
Previous Parts:
Colliding with Reality, Part 1
Colliding with Reality, Part 2: How Could You Be So...
Colliding with Reality, Part 3: Swimming with a Raincoat
Colliding with Reality, Part 4a: First Time Ever I...
Colliding with Reality, Part 4b: First Time Ever I...
But if you don't want to bother with the catch-up, this part can totally be understood unto itself, so kinda semi-standalone.
Colliding with Reality: Part 5b
Sex, Lies, and Videotape
by dark_orion
(continued from first part, because LJ would pick as too long the chapter that has no good point of separation anywhere near the middle)
It turns out that finding out Adam’s room number is as easy as asking the ever-present security guard in the hall, and if the guard raises his eyebrows at the sharpness of his tone, well, Kris is suffering from a severe case of “couldn’t give a shit” at the moment.
He storms down the hallways, turning two corners, reaching Adam’s room on the opposite side of the building, and Adam must be there, because there’s another security guard, who could be a carbon copy of Kris’, right down to the shine on his shoes. The guard double takes slightly at seeing him, but Kris ignores it, brushing past him with barely a nod of acknowledgement, straight to Adam’s door.
He doesn’t knock so much as he pounds, and when Adam opens the door, he growls, “I’m killing them, and you’re helping me hide the bodies.”
“Be a little hard to explain that to the producers,” Adam quips as he ushers Kris into his room, but the joke is halfhearted at best, resigned more than anything, and Kris seriously regrets not stopping by Gokey and Sarver’s rooms first so that he could’ve brought their fucking heads to Adam on a silver platter. “But, hey, more room on the tour bus.”
But Kris is way too angry to make light of this, not yet. He paces away from Adam, coming to a stop in the middle of the room because he has no idea where to go beyond that, shoving his hands into his pockets as he turns back to face Adam again, struggling with what to say, how to say it, because he’s angry, but at Sarver and Gokey, not at Adam-or maybe, yeah, a little bit at Adam because he shouldn’t have had to go to Leila to find out about the situation and because how is it Adam’s not angrier? Because all Kris wants to do is find those two and kick the right godly shit out of them, and Adam’s just standing there.
It takes only a few seconds of Kris’ frustrated silence before Adam abandons his halfway joking posture with a sigh, walking past Kris to drop onto the foot of his bed, running a hand quickly over his face as he exhales slowly. “I take it you saw Mike’s video.”
Kris’ voice is clipped when he answers, as short as he’s ever been with Adam, “Your mother sent me the link.”
Adams eyes widen, “Mom knows?” before squeezing shut in resignation. “Neil.”
Kris nods, adding, “Yeah,” when he realizes that Adam’s closed eyes mean he didn’t see the gesture, though the anger in Kris’ voice, the accusation, makes Adam’s eyes snap open. “What I’m trying to figure out, though, is why I didn’t find out from you.”
Adam doesn’t flinch at the severity of Kris’ tone or expression, holding Kris’ gaze, but he absently begins picking at the polish on his nails. “It’s not a big deal, you know. It’s not exactly the first time someone’s implied that I’m some kind of a…a sinner.”
Kris feels his heart twist in his chest, and he sinks down on the bed beside Adam before his knees can give out on him.
Adam’s gaze turns toward his hands, and he abruptly stops his fidgeting, like it took catching it in the act to realize he was doing it. He turns back toward Kris slightly, staring at nothing and almost but not quite watching Kris out of the corner of his eye. “ I just…” He grimaces slightly. “I didn’t want it to affect you. You already have enough on your plate you’ve got to deal with.”
“And you don’t?” Kris shoots back, but there’s no anger in it this time, no place for it, because it’s not that Adam doesn’t trust Kris, but that he’s trying to protect him-which is kind of…sweet. Completely and totally unnecessary, but sweet.
He leans into Adam, bumping the other man’s shoulder with his own, letting the contact remain as he says, “Adam…whether I saw the video or not, it affects me. Because it affects you. You’re upset? I’m upset. Face it, man, I have a vested, and pretty darn selfish, interest in your wellbeing.”
Adam laughs a bit at that, meeting Kris’ eyes again as he does some shoulder-bumping of his own, expression gaining some teasing lasciviousness-nowhere approaching normal levels, but it’s something. “And in my being in general?”
Kris gives in to the humor for a moment, running his eyes the length of Adam’s body-and a fine being it is indeed. “Well, that goes without saying.” Before the smile even has time to leave his face, though, seriousness creeps back into his voice, compelled by the weight of his need to explain to Adam. “But, Adam…it doesn’t just affect me indirectly either. Saver and Gokey…in just a few seconds, they managed to condemn a pretty fair sized chunk of humanity. They implied that what I feel for you makes me-us-somehow…less in the eyes of God, and that kind of thing has always gotten to me, when people who call themselves Christian-or anyone, really-uses their religion as an excuse to spread that kind of narrow-minded, Stone Age morality. I mean, that God would say, “Love thy neighbor as thyself-except if he happens to be gay,” is just so patently ridiculous, I can’t believe anyone buys in to it.”
As Kris reels himself back in from his rant, forcing voice and breathing into decrescendo, he winces slightly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to start sermonizing.”
Adam smiles, more easily than he has all day. “Hey, it’s cool. I kinda like it when you get all worked up and passionate up on your soapbox. It’s hot.”
Kris feels his face heat; he’s not yet quite used to how free and sincere Adam is with that kind of compliment. Or how much he likes it.
“Besides,” Adam continues, “it’s a good soapbox to stand on.” He smirks mischievously. “Makes you look tall.”
Kris elbows him not entirely gently in the side, because maybe he’s short, but he’s exactly the right height to aim for the kidneys. It only makes Adam laugh harder, though, and bring in his arm to guard against further similar attack, which just means that Kris shoves at his shoulder instead, knocking Adam back onto the bed, because Kris may be fighting back laughter of his own, but he’s still defending the dignity of short men everywhere.
Adam remains sprawled back on the bed as his laughter winds down, fingers gently brushing against the sensitive flesh of the inside of Kris’ wrist where he’s got one hand on the bed, bracing him next to Adam, and Kris has to remind himself that there’s more he wants to say, because over the weeks of the competition, he’s seen Adam spread out like this, open, smiling, and somehow vulnerable, but he hadn’t been able to touch, and now that his is able-actively encouraged, even-he finds it almost impossible not to.
“The point is,” he says, voice firm with his conviction, because Adam needs to know Kris isn’t screwing around, “Sarver and Gokey’s video…that kind of thing is my problem, too. I mean, since we’re…together now-you know, officially-it affects both of us, and you-neither of us-should have to deal with this alone.”
Adam’s eyes go soft, even despite their teasing glint, and his fingers still against Kris’ wrist, resting over his pulse. “Officially?”
Kris grins as he echoes what he’d told Katy after last week’s elimination, “Unofficially officially.”
“Of course.” Adam curls his hand around Kris’ wrist, not really grasping, just holding, as his expression goes serious. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the video. I’ve just…been dealing with this type of thing for so long that normally it just, you know, rolls off my back, but… I guess I just didn’t expect this right now. I mean, I know Mike and Danny don’t really agree with how I choose to live my life, but I guess, after knowing each other this long, going through this process together, having talked to both of them so many times, I just didn’t expect them to be so…so casual about saying something like that.”
Kris lays his free hand on Adam’s stomach, both to show support and to keep from clenching it into a fist. “Like being stabbed in the back.”
Adam sighs, grip tightening on Kris’ wrist. “Yeah. I wanted to keep you from having to feel that.” He turns large, blue eyes toward Kris, face so deliberately hangdog that Kris can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood. “You forgive me for not telling you about the video?”
Kris pretends to consider it for a moment, cocking his head to the side in thought. “Well, I suppose I could. That is, if you promise not to treat me like I’m something delicate that needs to be bubble-wrapped. You keep up this paternal, older brotherly stuff, I’m gonna be too creeped out to ever have sex with you again.”
As if by just the mention of the word “sex,” the energy of the room shifts, becoming heated, anticipatory, wanting. Below Kris, Adam is still smiling with teasing good humor, but there’s something else behind it now, hunger growing in his eyes as he gazes up at Kris, the sprawl of his body somehow going from lazy to sensual without his moving a muscle. His grip on Kris’ wrist changes, not tightening so much as it becomes purposeful.
“Well,” and Adam’s voice has gone deep and husky, rumbling up from his chest, “we wouldn’t want that.”
Kris nods, eyes flicking from Adam’s face to his own hand resting on Adam’s stomach, splaying his fingers wide, last two digits brushing over the hem of Adam’s shirt, farther, to find the strip of bare skin exposed by his sprawl. “Be a real tragedy.”
Adam tugs at Kris’ wrist, and Kris follows the pull, stretching out on the bed so that he’s half on top of Adam, tucked into the space between Adam’s arm and body, hand on Adam’s stomach slipping over his side, pushing against the fabric to bare skin as it goes, already hard cock snugged against the just of Adam’s hip. Adam’s hand leaves Kris’ wrist to cup the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the soft hairs at the nape, the other coming seemingly from out of nowhere to glide over his ass, causing Kris to thrust helplessly against Adam’s hip, even as his surprised groan is swallowed up by Adam’s lips on his.
The contact starts out soft, slow, but it doesn’t stay that way for long, both of them too desperate after almost four days of so little contact of any kind, mouths moving slick and hot against one another, parting only for quick breaths when the need for oxygen overwhelms their need for each other. Eagerness makes their hands too clumsy for such precise actions as unfastening buttons or zippers, and they resort to shoving and pulling at fabric to get to one another.
Lost in the feel of Adam, the taste of him, the heat of him, Kris forgets until he feels Adam’s hands at his waist, tugging at the button of his jeans, that he’d had another reason for seeking Adam out. He pulls away from where Adam has already successfully negotiated the button and is now working on the zipper of his jeans, shifting slightly to throw a leg across Adam’s body before rising up on his knees straddling Adam’s hips.
Confusion colors the desire on Adam’s face as he looks up at Kris, hands curving around Kris’ thighs, caressing restlessly, as if eager to resume their previous task.
Kris braces his hands on the bed to either side of Adam’s head, leaning down over him, grinning wolfishly. “I promised your mother I’d take care of you tonight…and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”
Adam raises a slightly incredulous and wholly teasing eyebrow. “You promised my mother that you would come to my room, shove me onto the bed, and ravage me?”
Kris doesn’t rise to the bait, though he feels the flush in his cheeks at the idea of having that conversation with Leila, and also at the images Adam’s words plant in his mind. He raises his own eyebrow. “Gonna make a liar out of me?”
Adam’s grin is as plain a dare as any, and he makes a show of relaxing fully into the bed, whole body lifting in a graceful arc as he stretches his arms up over his head, eyes shining as Kris groans when the movement presses Adam’s hardness against his. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Kris rocks his hips down into Adam’s in retaliation, smiling smugly as Adam lets out a guttural moan, eyes squeezing shut, presses his head back into the mattress, and Kris’ hand is irresistibly drawn to the curve of the other man’s neck. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a brat?”
Adam pushes up into Kris’ hand, but otherwise maintains his recumbent posture, eyes still closed in pleasure as he grins. “Mm, constantly.”
Kris’ hand drifts up along Adam’s throat, over his jaw line, his cheek, skimming over his temple, fingers sinking into Adam’s soft, blue-streaked hair, leaning in closer to the man underneath him, and Adam, sensing his increased closeness, opens his eyes lazily. Thumb of the hand supporting him on the bed stroking absently at the hinge of Adam’s jaw, Kris says, “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I love you anyway.”
The smile that spreads itself across Adam’s face is pure joy, “A very good thing,” and as Kris leans down to kiss Adam again, just before their lips touch, Adam whispers, quiet in the close space between them, “Love you, too.”
They come together hungrily, need pushed higher by emotion, and Kris loves the way Adam just…opens to him, long, powerful body spread out beneath him, tongue curling around Kris’, inviting its thrust into Adam’s mouth, pressing his head back into the hand Kris has buried in his hair, moaning beautifully as Kris tightens his grip to encourage the curve of his neck.
Once Kris can summon the willpower to relinquish his hold in Adam’s hair, he runs his hands along Adam’s up-stretched arms, shoulder to fingertip and back, caressing the pale, freckled skin, lingering at the sensitive flesh of Adam’s triceps, wholly admiring of the fact that Adam is still just lying back, just how Kris wants him, letting Kris have whatever he wants, the only sign of any kind of struggle on Adam’s part the way his hands have curled themselves into fists above his head, and Kris is so grateful for Adam’s control, because even with this need to take care of Adam driving him tonight, if Adam were suddenly to decide to turn the tables, as desperate as his need for Adam is, Kris knows he wouldn’t have the strength to resist it.
Kris runs his fingertips down Adam’s sides, fingernails catching slightly in the fabric of his t-shirt as they skim over ribcage and waist, and Kris loves the way Adam moves into his touch, how he presses further into their kiss, slight whine in the back of his throat as he strains for it, like he wants all of Kris, all at once.
They pull apart reluctantly, foiled once again by their bodies’ need for oxygen, and Kris takes advantage of the moment, curling his fingers into the hem of Adam’s shirt and tugging it over his head, biting his lip as Adam arches his back so Kris can slide the garment out from under him, at the way the movement presses their hips into intimate contact, at the way Adam’s low, desire-laden voice requests, maybe demands, “Your turn,” and even though Kris can’t stop thinking about just pressing Adam into the bed and thrusting against him till they come in their jeans like teenagers, he takes his control in an iron grip, sitting back on his heels as he all but rips his own t-shirt off.
Kris immediately starts to lower himself back on top of Adam, but is stopped by the almost tangible press of Adam’s eyes upon him, bright blue slowly taking in everything, from the disarray of Kris’ hair to the way his jeans are barely staying on his hips, button undone and zipper lowering tooth by tooth with every movement. Kris can’t help leaning slightly into the touch of Adam’s eyes, just as if it were the touch of his hands, and normally this kind of regard would make him nervous, tense because he’s never felt comfortable being an object of lust, but somehow, with Adam, there is no trace of discomfort; it simply makes him feel almost powerful, sexy…wanted.
Adam’s hands clench in the sheets above his head as he brings heavy-lidded, hunger-filled eyes to meet Kris’. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
Kris raises an eyebrow, sitting back so he can take in all of Adam, trim waist and flat stomach, chest beautifully defined and artfully furred, leanly muscled arms stretched gracefully above him on the bed, all projecting such strength, but part and parcel with pale, almost delicate looking freckles scattered across his skin, the fine, elegant features of his face, framed by the sweep of Adam’s midnight-dark hair, and it shouldn’t fit together, should be too painfully contradictory to survive in contrast, but Adam…he makes it beautiful.
Kris’ throat goes tight, and he swallows hard, because even now, even with Adam spread out on the bed below and so clearly wanting, it’s hard for Kris to believe that he actually gets to have this, because Adam is wrong-Kris is not the one who’s gorgeous. “I think you’ve got that backwards.”
Adam opens his mouth-to argue with him, Kris knows-so before Adam has a chance to get a word out, Kris is on him again, claiming Adam’s mouth with his own and doing his utmost to distract Adam thoroughly. His hands explore Adam’s body with equal intensity, curious still, because even having already slept together, their want had made them hasty, taking that closeness for granted, forgetting momentarily about the chaos of the coming week, and Kris isn’t making that mistake again, even with the persistent, fervent desire pushing at the back of his skull, learning Adam’s body slowly, fascinated by the sharp line of his collarbone, by the soft swirl of hair surrounding small, pinkish nipples, buds already hard with arousal even before Kris’ greedy fingers have touched them, though that doesn’t stop Kris from teasing them further, running his thumbs over the stiff buds, rolling them between his fingers before squeezing slightly, then with more intent at Adam’s emphatic sound of approval.
Pulling back reluctantly from Adam’s mouth, he follows with lips, tongue, and teeth the trail that his hands had blazed, nipping at the cords of Adam’s neck, lingering in the hollow of his throat, having to remind himself forcibly to pull away before leaves a mark there-because there’s no way the press wouldn’t remark on Adam wearing a high-neck shirt tomorrow-before taking over duty at Adam’s chest, a little uncertain because he’s not sure how particular actions translate from what he’s done before to what he’s doing now, but he’s encouraged by the absolutely fantastic sounds Adam is making, from deep, throaty growls, to choked off, desperate gasps, using them as a map of sorts, pointing towards what Adam likes, and it has the side benefit of freeing up his hands so that he can explore lower, over the ridges of Adam’s ribcage and stomach, dipping into his navel and noting for future reference how that makes Adam squirm ticklishly.
Once Kris reaches the waistband of Adam’s jeans, he feels Adam inhale sharply, and Kris glances up from where he’s been intent on Adam’s left nipple to find Adam watching him avidly, entire body taut with expectation, muscles of Adam’s stomach practically vibrating under Kris’ hands. Kris knows what Adam wants, what he needs, so he very deliberately skims his hands downward…and completely bypasses the prominent bulge in Adam’s jeans that’s screaming for his attention, running his fingernails over the coarse weave of the fabric covering Adam’s thighs, impish light flaring in his eyes.
Adam’s head drops back against the bed as he groans, “You asshole.”
Kris’ already broad grin widens farther. “Impatient, are we?” Kris stifles laughter as Adam glares at him. “You know what they say about good things and waiting.”
Adam raises a sarcastic eyebrow, but though Adam is a far better actor than Kris, he can’t hide the smile shining out from behind blue eyes. “Yes, well, I also seem to remember something about ‘coming’ going along with that.”
Kris bursts into surprised laughter, followed only seconds later by Adam. Once he can take a large enough breath between laughs to speak, Kris says, “Guess I can’t argue with that,” giving in gracefully, because Kris is growing just as impatient as Adam to get to where he wants to be. He gently slaps Adam’s hip. “Scoot up some, though.” He extends his arms out in from of him, lacing his fingers and cracking his knuckles before letting them drop, ostentatiously stretching his neck from side to side, like a boxer warming up for a round. “Give me some room to work.”
Adam moves with eager alacrity, bare feet skidding over crumpled sheets as he scoots back on the bed, stretching out once again on his back once he reaches the headboard, before seeming to rethink his position, folding a pillow behind his head so that he is propped up, smile unfurling, slow and sensual, as he looks back at Kris, who can’t resist crawling up Adam’s long body to taste that smile, running his tongue along Adam’s full lower lip before briefly licking inside his mouth, kiss just hard enough so Kris can still feel it on his lips as he pulls back, sliding back down along Adam so that he can work at the fastenings of Adam’s jeans.
Kris has to force calmness into his hands, as his excitement is making his fingers clumsy, fumbling on button and zipper-patience as well, taking the time to shove Adam’s jeans and briefs down far enough that the other man can kick them off with a smooth flick of his ankle, even though Kris wants to fall upon Adam’s hard, thick cock the second it’s revealed. However, as soon as Adam’s completely naked, bared to him, that temporary patience falls by the wayside, and Kris eagerly leans back in to take Adam’s length into his mouth.
Kris’ one previous attempt makes him by no means an expert, which is just as well, because Kris finds he enjoys the experimentation, rediscovering the weight of Adam’s cock on his tongue, the way its thickness fills his mouth as he takes Adam deeper, pushing against his own limits, like so many other instances where Adam is concerned.
Finally accepting his temporary defeat, Kris wraps his hand around the part of Adam’s cock he can’t take into his mouth, stroking, squeezing gently, eventually falling into a rhythm, taking Adam as deeply as he can, lips meeting his hand around the base of Adam’s cock as he swallows against the head, loving the way Adam’s practically squirming on the bed trying not to thrust deeper than Kris can take, but regretting now the position he’d demanded of the other man, wanting desperately to feel Adam’s hands on him, but not quite desperate enough to be willing to give up Adam’s cock, even for the seconds it would take to make the request.
Kris pulls almost all the way off Adam’s length for a moment, running his tongue over the steadily leaking head, relishing Adam’s taste, wanting more, before taking Adam deep once more, suddenly enough that Adam’s control lags as he arches so hard Kris has to take his hand off Adam’s cock to pin his hips so that Adam doesn’t inadvertently choke him, and the sound that rips from Adam, part growl, part scream, makes Kris’ own erection jerk within the confines of his jeans, makes him open eyes he hadn’t realized he closed to take in Adam, flushed and panting and gorgeous, splayed across the sheets.
Adam’s half-lidded, desire-bright eyes lock with Kris’, tongue darting out to moisten his lips before he manages to get out, between heaving breaths, “Kris…come up here.”
Kris’ brows draw together in confusion, and he hums negation around Adam’s cock, either the response or the vibration of the hum causing Adam to throw his head back into the pillow and groan-Kris prefers to think the latter, but in any case, he’s absolutely not giving up Adam’s cock. Adam had pulled him away last time before Kris could bring Adam to completion, feel the pulse of Adam’s cock against his tongue as he came, before he could taste that elemental part of Adam, keep that much of Adam inside him, temporary as it might have been. Kris wants it, needs it in ways he can’t explain, so there’s absolutely nothing that Adam can say that will convince him-
“Please…Kris,” he breathes, fists clenching against the headboard as his voice turns darker, eyes blazing into Kris’, “come up here so you can fuck me.”
This time Kris does choke a bit as surprise makes him take Adam too deep, and he comes up spluttering and coughing, even as his hand shoots down, digging the heel into the base of his own cock as he struggles not to come, because God, just the thought…
Red-faced from nearly strangling on his own mental image, Kris gasps out, “Dude, warn a guy,” and the fact that his voice comes out raspy and hoarse, due more to his attempts at deep throating Adam than his coughing fit, is not helping to dampen Kris’ arousal in the slightest.
Adam looks disgustingly smug, but it’s a smugness quickly transferred to Kris as he leans back down, blowing cool air over Adam’s saliva-slick cock, straightening back up with a mischievous parting lick to the head.
Adam’s eyes clench tightly shut as he arches his back, head tossing on the pillow as he growls from behind gritted teeth, “Fuck, Allen! Quit fucking around and fuck me already!”
While most of the time, getting the normally extremely articulate Adam Lambert to use the word “fuck” three times in the space of one breath would be confirmation enough, Kris has to be absolutely certain, because his own fantasies haven’t yet progressed this far-and why it’s easier to imagine Adam taking him rather than vice versa Kris can’t understand-but he just has to ask, “You like that?” though he wishes the question had come out more serious and concerned rather than breathy and turned on as it did.
Adam’s eyes, when he looks at Kris again, are weighed down with something, something old and fragile, but packed away so carefully and thoroughly it’s beyond threat of breaking. “I’ll like it with you.”
There’s a history, a pain behind those words that makes Kris think he’ll be needing to break the death threats back out if Adam ever decides to tell him about it, but right now is not the time for that. Right now Kris is going to make Adam forget about anyone he’s been with before. Right now Kris is going to give Adam exactly what he wants, what he needs.
He’ll give Adam everything.
Grateful that his own solitary experimentation has given him some experience to work with, he stretches Adam slowly, because even though Adam is trying with every other breath to convince him Enough, I’m good, Get on with it already, muscles in his thighs flexing impatiently where they’re splayed around Kris, Kris feels how tight Adam is around his fingers, despite enough lube to slip a Volvo into a garden hose, muscles slow to give and relax, Adam’s fists clenching and unclenching in the sheets above his head, restlessness not entirely borne of pleasure, and no matter how prettily Adam begs, Kris isn’t moving forward until he’s sure Adam can take it.
He strokes into Adam with two, then three fingers, fascinated by the way Adam’s entire body shudders when Kris’ fingertips linger over Adam’s prostate, minute circular movements that make Adam uncurl his fingers to press his palms flat against the headboard, leverage to shove his body down onto Kris’ thrusting fingers, makes him draw elegant brows together in concentration, eyes tightly shut before flying open as suddenly something inside Adam just gives, surprised, hopelessly aroused gasp escaping his lips as Kris’ fingers suddenly slip deeper into him, muscles still tight, but welcoming now, and that’s all Kris can take.
Adam’s disappointed groan when Kris pulls his fingers from his body only adds to the urgency of the moment, lube-slick fingers fumbling at the zipper of his jeans, which, God, what the hell had he been thinking not having taken them off already?
When his hand slips off the metal tab a third time, Adam growls his impatience, bolting up into a sitting position and taking over, deftly undoing the fastening and shoving Kris’ jeans and boxers down to his thighs.
Cock suddenly free of the constricting material, Kris gasps in relief, practically lunging in to Adam, bringing their mouths into almost painful contact, kiss openmouthed and predatory, before shoving Adam back onto the bed once more.
Adam falls back without protest, twisting to delve once again into the drawer of the bedside table from which he’d produced the lube earlier, fingers stuttering over contents both completely and less than innocent before giving a triumphant, “Hah!” as he extracts a box of condoms. The box is unopened and looks brand new, corners pristine and edges unscuffed, and either Adam treats his condoms like priceless objets d’art, or he bought these within the past few days, probably after they’d moved into the hotel. Also, more notably, and what’s got Kris raising an eyebrow, it’s a package of three-dozen.
Catching sight of Kris’ expression, Adam just shrugs, settling back into the bed and tossing the box to Kris, smug grin touching the corners of his mouth as he raises his arms to curl behind his head, and his eyes aren’t suggestive-they’re downright expository. “So I’m an optimist. Sue me.”
Kris snorts, glad now for the moment of pause the scramble to disrobe has given him, because he actually remembers this time that it’s difficult to accomplish anything with lube on your fingers, wiping the excess on a handy bit of sheet before tearing at the ridiculously large box of condoms. “What I can’t figure out is when you had time to sneak out and get any.”
This time it’s Adam’s turn to snort, even as his eyes are glued to the way Kris’ fingers are fumbling with the foil-wrapped packet he’s finally fished out from its brethren, the rest of the box tossed carelessly aside, packets flying and coming down like X-rated confetti on the floor. “‘Sneak’ nothing. There was a Walgreen’s on the way back from the preliminary with Kiss.” Mouth stretching into a smirk, he gestures with his chin at the condom in Kris’ hands. “Want some help with that?”
Kris shakes his head, both at Adam’s facetious helpfulness-but damn, even without the impediment of lube-slick fingertips, the blasted foil packet is testing Kris’ ingenuity to open-and at Adam’s complete incapacity to be embarrassed, by anything, it seems, because even after getting married, Kris still has to fight back a blush buying condoms, like he’s sixteen again and trying to hide them from his mom. He huffs in impatient pleasure as he finally gets the packet open enough to work a finger inside to tear it further, before stuttering to a halt as a thought occurs to him, because Adam had met with Kiss on Friday, and on Fridays… “Wait, you didn’t make Paul go in there with you, did you?”
The Idol handlers for any given contestant shift from day to day, depending on the schedule and what abilities are called for, and as in any situation wherein participants don’t have a say in with whom they interact, conflicts had emerged, the most heated of which had been between Adam and Paul, out and proud flamboyant homosexual versus sermonizing and demonizing outspoken homophobe, though “conflict” is perhaps the wrong term for it since, as Adam has said, there are only so many times you can be called “faggot” before all you feel is frustration at the lack of originality, but certainly Paul felt there was a conflict, and Adam equally certainly enjoyed provoking that conflict within Paul.
Adam’s the very picture of innocent nonchalance, and Kris doesn’t buy it for a minute, even if he does appreciate how Adam manages to pull it off even with his cock lying hard and full and demanding attention against his stomach. “Hey, it’s his fault he followed me in without asking what I was going to get.” Adam’s pretense is blown as he breaks into helpless laughter. “God, Kris…you should have seen his face. There he is, going on about how we don’t have time for my every whim, not paying a bit of attention to where we are in the store, and he looks up and-bang!-Trojan Man, right in the face. Oh! And then…” Adam pauses to get a hold of his laughter enough to continue, and Kris doesn’t know if he can take any more because he’s already doubled over, forehead on Adam’s stomach, shaking with laughter of his own. “This sales clerk wanders over-I swear she couldn’t have been much older than Allison-and asks if my boyfriend and I need help finding the kind we’re looking for.”
Kris collapses on Adam, laughing hard enough his ears are ringing, their hysterics rocking them together. However, it’s just a matter of seconds before the purpose behind the rocking changes and the laughter segues into deep-throated moans and turned on gasps, because oh, yeah, there’s a reason they’re naked and in bed together and Kris has an opened condom packet in his hand.
Adam’s hands find their way to the sides of Kris’ face, carding briefly through his short hair as Adam kisses him, hard and quick. “Alright, enough screwing around.” Then he catches himself, smirks and says, “Make that not enough screwing around.”
Kris groans out a laugh. “Man, that’s bad. Even for you.”
Adam just smiles back, all pride in his wordsmithery. “Get to it, then.”
Kris leans back from their kiss, snapping off a salute as Adam resettles himself on the bed. “And they say that romance is dead.”
Attention back on the task at hand, Kris wastes no time rolling the condom down the length of his cock, both out of impatience just to be inside Adam already and because he’s not exactly certain how much more stimulation his body can take without coming. He slips two fingers back inside Adam, thrusting shallowly and watching Adam’s reaction closely, making sure Adam’s still ready, but Adam just writhes up into his hands, body more relaxed now than before, wrung out from laughter, breaking himself open for Kris, pushing any lingering doubt about what Adam wants out of Kris’ head, because there’s only room left for nowwanthaveGodAdam…
Kris pulls his fingers from Adam’s body, doing his best to ignore Adam’s resulting gasp and the effect it has on his control, takes a second-all he can bring himself to spare-to slick his cock with still lube-wet fingers before pressing the head against Adam, pushing inside, slowly-God, so slowly-because Adam is tight, close in a way Kris has never felt, and it’s all Kris can do not to come immediately.
Gathering the few fine tendrils that are all that remain of his control, Kris thrusts carefully, once, twice, Adam folding his legs to brace his feet against the bed, giving him the leverage to meet Kris halfway, and Kris feels surrounded by Adam, embraced, strong, encircling pressure as Adam raises his legs farther to wrap around Kris’ waist, to pull Kris farther into him, so deep inside that Kris is convinced, in his lust-crazed, addled mind, that he must be touching Adam’s soul.
And Adam…Adam is a sight to behold, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open and panting as he throws his head back, muscles in his arms taut, straining from his death grip on the sheets above his head, chest heaving with his rapid breaths, whole body arching back, exposed, making himself vulnerable and not caring, and more than anything, it’s how open Adam is to him, in every way, that has Kris racing towards the edge.
Suddenly Adam’s eyes snap open, normal bright blue almost navy with want, and Adam groans, breathless, bucking up into Kris. “Fuck, Kris-harder, c’mon…” and his voice is desperate, almost pleading, and how could Kris ever say no to that?
Kris’ thrusts become more forceful, pace quickening, as he leans over Adam, weight supported by his left hand on the bed next to Adam’s side-where Kris can feel Adam’s heaving breaths as the rapid, repeated expansion of his ribs presses rhythmically into the inside of his wrist-right hand skimming up Adam’s body, coming to rest over the arch of his throat, feeling Adam’s heartbeat against his palm, feeling his own heart match it as he leans in to claim Adam’s lips with his once again.
The force of will holding back Kris’ orgasm crumbling and soon to vanish completely, Kris strokes his hand back down Adam’s body to wrap around Adam’s cock, fisting the hard shaft, way made slick by the precum leaking from the head, for which Kris is thankful, because he’s got very little time for finesse, only seconds away from coming, and he wants Adam with him when he does.
Just when Kris thinks he’s about to break, Adam jerks under him, once, then again before he’s coming in a warm rush over Kris’ hand, and the contractions rippling through him, squeezing Kris, God, tighter, force Kris over the edge as well, and he comes hard enough his vision grays out for a second.
Kris manages to pull out of Adam carefully, disposing of the condom in the strategically placed trashcan before collapsing to the bed, and he considers it a mark of his good manners and upbringing that he lands only half on top of Adam, his shaky inhalations harmonizing with Adam’s as they come down slowly.
Adam’s chuff of laughter ruffles Kris’ hair, and Kris grins stupidly into Adam’s neck because it echoes exactly what Kris is feeling, equal parts smug and amazed that they could evoke such strong responses in each other, along with a dash of, Oh, God, we have to practice choreography in the morning. “Yeah?” Kris doesn’t need the confirmation so much as he just wants to feel the way Adam shivers as Kris’ breath whispers across his collarbone, and he presses a kiss to the underside of Adam’s jaw when he hears the other man smile.
“Yeah,” and the next is said quietly enough that Kris isn’t entirely sure Adam’s not talking to himself. “Knew it would be good with you.”
Kris frowns slightly because, yeah, a story in there somewhere, probably someone Kris needs to hunt down and maim, but for the moment, Kris just adds it to the long list of things he wants to find out about Adam once they’re out of their current media spectacle, because right now they’re curled together in the warmth of their afterglow, grateful once again to the intelligence behind the room arrangement as they use Kleenexes from the bedside table to clean up the mess between them before it glues them together, before they sink into one another once again.
Kris buries his face in the bend of Adam’s neck and shoulder, throwing an arm across Adam’s stomach, laying against the arm Adam crosses over to rest a hand on Kris’ hip. “Mmm,” he mumbles, already mostly asleep, post-sex lassitude claiming him quickly, “you don’t mind if I just pass out, do you?”
The strength of Adam’s replying yawn almost upsets Kris’ perch, but he tightens his hold on Adam, maintaining his position and earning him a pleased noise from Adam in the process.
“Not at all,” Adam says around the end of his yawn. “Right there with you, even. One of the perks of sleeping with a guy, I’m told.”
Kris’ breath of laughter is lost in his own yawn. “Knew there had to be a reason I loved you.”
Adam pulls Kris in to him further, and Kris feels Adam lay a fleeting kiss to the top of his head. “Backatcha, smartass.”
There is so much potential in that sentence for a pun of epic proportions, if only Kris weren’t too tired to take advantage of it.
He feels himself drifting of, almost doesn’t hear Adam’s whispered, “Kris?”
He rouses as much as he can, fighting back unconsciousness. “Hmm?”
“Thanks for taking care of me.”
Kris is too far gone to speak, but he hopes the tightening of his arm around Adam conveys his “you’re welcome.”
~~~~
The morning comes much too quickly, and Kris barely has time to dash back to his room-past Adam’s security guard, who barely raises an eyebrow at his early morning sprint from Adam’s room-for a quick shower and a fresh change of clothes before he and his partner in crime are hustled into one of Idol’s ubiquitous black SUVs with their bodyguards and handlers to head for the studio.
(And if anyone notices how Adam’s deliberate, mischievous shifting in his seat makes Kris’ cheeks heat even as he smiles knowingly, no one mentions it.)
A wrench is thrown into Kris’ good mood when they arrive at the studio, because even as Allison wraps him up in an enthusiastic hug, over her shoulder, there’s Danny and Michael, and they’re just standing around and talking, waiting like everyone else for the choreographer to arrive, but it riles Kris all the same, and he can feel his teeth grinding.
Allison pulls back from him, eyes staring up at him confusedly from under the riotous color of her bangs. “Hey, what’s up? You turned to stone all of a sudden.” She thumps his chest, as if testing to see if he’s still flesh and blood and not granite. “What’s got you all Medusa-fied?”
Ah, Allison’s tutors must have started in with the Greek mythology. Kris shakes off his temper and manages a genuine smile for Allison. “No, I’m good. I just…” He trails off when he can’t come up with a suitable excuse.
Adam swoops in, throwing an arm over Kris’ shoulders and proving that his excellent sense of timing applies to many situations, as he rattle off glibly, “Now, see, I told him he needed to let our chiropractor check that out, but does he listen?”
Concern touches Allison’s face, but Adam’s impish tone makes her raise a suspicious eyebrow even as she circles Kris to poke in the general area of his spine. “You hurt your back?”
Kris lets out a less than manly yelp as one of Allison’s pokes veers too close to a ticklish spot, glaring at Adam as the other man struggles to cover a laugh. “Sort of,” Kris hedges, trying to dissuade Allison from yanking his shirt up, presumably so that she can give his back a visual inspection.
Retrieving his arm from Kris’ shoulders, letting his fingers linger briefly on the nape of Kris’ neck, Adam looks down at where Allison is prodding random vertebrae. “I worked him over pretty hard last night.”
Kris nearly strangles on his own spit and manages to turn it into a cough, which handily can also serve as an excuse for his rapidly reddening cheeks, fortunate, since out of the corner of his eye-and boy, is he grateful that Allison’s grip on his t-shirt is keeping him from having to turn and face her-he can see Allison’s other eyebrow rocket upward to join the first, and she brushes her bangs to the side with a deft hand so that her expression of incredulity is not lost on them.
Adam just shrugs like he doesn’t understand why they’re reacting in such a manner, and Kris nearly groans because doesn’t Adam know by now that the innocent act only makes people more suspicious? “What? It was just an impromptu dance rehearsal.”
And there Kris is, back to choking on his own spit, because Adam doesn’t actually have to say the words “horizontal tango” for the joke to carry across the space between them.
Adam throws an arm across Kris’ chest, hooking his hand on Kris’ far shoulder, pulling him in slightly to press a kiss just behind his ear-another one of those things Adam can do without anyone thinking twice about it, because, hey, that’s just Adam, although, Kris is perversely pleased to note, the gesture does make Sarver harrumph and turn away and Gokey stare slightly gape-mouthed in what looks like heterosexual panic-before Adam pulls back to wink at Allison. “Our boy’s got some serious skills he hasn’t been sharing with the class.”
Kris wonders if a blush can become a perpetual state, though there’s pride touching his grin as he ducks his head.
Allison looks back and forth between the two of them, gaze growing steadily more suspicious, and she releases Kris’ t-shirt with a disgruntled tug. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”
Adam nods vigorously. “Absolutely.”
Allison rolls her eyes disgustedly before abandoning them to go warn Lil and Anoop that Adam and Kris are in one of those moods.
Laughing as Anoop spins around to look at the two of them in mock-horror before practically folding himself in two to hide behind Allison, Kris jabs an elbow at Adam, causing the other man to have to jump back to dodge it. “You’re awful.”
Adam moves back in close enough to make their conversation intimate, but not so close that Kris has to strain his neck looking up at him, and Kris is going to have to ask how he does that. “All the best lies are mostly truth,” he says between laughs, eyes on the continued antics across the room because now Lil has joined in with Anoop in trying to hide behind Allison, but with Allison now trying to hide behind them, it’s turned into a bizarre form of leap frog.
The joking is pushed to the background, business elbowing its way to the forefront as their choreographer, Mandy, enters the room, serenaded into the studio by Matt’s now habitual invocation of Barry Manilow, though he only makes it through the first couple of bars before Megan literally takes matters into her own hands and slaps them over his mouth, and when Scott calls out into the sudden silence, “Whoever that was, bless you,” the entire room breaks apart into laughter.
Kris feels himself tensing again as Gokey and Sarver wander over to join the rest of them in a tight knot around Mandy as she pulls her notes on their dances from a bag that Kris knows from experience is Mary Poppins-ish in dimension; however, when Adam lays a surreptitious hand on the small of Kris’ back, Kris feels tensed muscles unknot just a bit.
Adam leans in to Kris’ ear to whisper, so low it’s almost subvocal. “Let it go.” When Kris looks at him askance, because turning the other cheek is all well and good, but seriously, Adam continues, with a devilish tilt of his head, “Besides, I have it on good authority that karma’s about to bite them in the ass.”
Before Kris has a chance to do more than raise an eyebrow at that cryptic statement, Mandy’s calling for their attention, quickly running over her observations and critiques of their last rehearsal before launching into the game plan for today, which seems to involve a mysterious change to the group’s first number, dealing particularly with Messrs. Gokey and Sarver and a series of very intricate, highly complicated dance steps, but hey, everyone else’s part is pretty much the same as before, so why don’t they take five while she works one-on-two with the new focal points of the number, who are each wearing a look of undisguised terror at the scope of what they have to learn.
As Mandy leads Sarver and Gokey to their doom, the rest of the Idols only mutter surprisedly amongst themselves for a few seconds before breaking apart towards their various diversions, because free time has become so rare a commodity for them that they know better than to spend it trying to figure out why they’ve got it.
Kris and Adam hang back momentarily, heading in the general direction of where Allison and Scott are trying for what has to be the hundredth time to talk Anoop into a game of Truth or Dare. Not taking his eyes from the battle of wills before him, Kris cocks his head to the side and says, “Let me guess: Mandy’ll run them ragged for a couple of hours before, ah, ‘changing her mind’ and deciding to drop the new choreography altogether.”
Adam’s grin, when he looks at Kris, is positively evil. “Three hours.”
This time it’s Kris’ arm that finds its way to Adam’s shoulders as his grin widens to match the other man’s. “Nice.”
~
Comments = love, and as The Beatles say, that's all you really need. :) Also, a present for those who've taken the dive and read all the way to the end, an unintentionally (probably) slashy cover of Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out for a Hero" that I listened to while editing this bitch and thought about Adam and Kris download here or maybe listen here while commenting? (subtle hint :) )
~
Title: Part 5b: Sex, Lies and Videotape
Author: dark_orion
Pairing: Kradam
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Even from across the soundstage, Kris can tell that something is off. Part the fifth, in which we deal with Adam's martyr complex, relationship angst, and Sarver's right godly video.
Author's Notes: Um...hi? Anybody remember this little story? Sorry about the long delay, but about halfway through writing this part (which started about a month and a half ago at this point) real life went *RAWR*, and writing anything was the last thing on my mind. Anyway, finally got back on track and finished up this part, and I still have aspirations about a least one more. I've also gone back to do a little clean-up on previous parts, fixing grammar whatnots, those things that SpellCheck doesn't catch. So, hope you guys enjoy, and because at this point, maybe a refresher is required, the previous parts:
Previous Parts:
Colliding with Reality, Part 1
Colliding with Reality, Part 2: How Could You Be So...
Colliding with Reality, Part 3: Swimming with a Raincoat
Colliding with Reality, Part 4a: First Time Ever I...
Colliding with Reality, Part 4b: First Time Ever I...
But if you don't want to bother with the catch-up, this part can totally be understood unto itself, so kinda semi-standalone.
Colliding with Reality: Part 5b
Sex, Lies, and Videotape
by dark_orion
(continued from first part, because LJ would pick as too long the chapter that has no good point of separation anywhere near the middle)
It turns out that finding out Adam’s room number is as easy as asking the ever-present security guard in the hall, and if the guard raises his eyebrows at the sharpness of his tone, well, Kris is suffering from a severe case of “couldn’t give a shit” at the moment.
He storms down the hallways, turning two corners, reaching Adam’s room on the opposite side of the building, and Adam must be there, because there’s another security guard, who could be a carbon copy of Kris’, right down to the shine on his shoes. The guard double takes slightly at seeing him, but Kris ignores it, brushing past him with barely a nod of acknowledgement, straight to Adam’s door.
He doesn’t knock so much as he pounds, and when Adam opens the door, he growls, “I’m killing them, and you’re helping me hide the bodies.”
“Be a little hard to explain that to the producers,” Adam quips as he ushers Kris into his room, but the joke is halfhearted at best, resigned more than anything, and Kris seriously regrets not stopping by Gokey and Sarver’s rooms first so that he could’ve brought their fucking heads to Adam on a silver platter. “But, hey, more room on the tour bus.”
But Kris is way too angry to make light of this, not yet. He paces away from Adam, coming to a stop in the middle of the room because he has no idea where to go beyond that, shoving his hands into his pockets as he turns back to face Adam again, struggling with what to say, how to say it, because he’s angry, but at Sarver and Gokey, not at Adam-or maybe, yeah, a little bit at Adam because he shouldn’t have had to go to Leila to find out about the situation and because how is it Adam’s not angrier? Because all Kris wants to do is find those two and kick the right godly shit out of them, and Adam’s just standing there.
It takes only a few seconds of Kris’ frustrated silence before Adam abandons his halfway joking posture with a sigh, walking past Kris to drop onto the foot of his bed, running a hand quickly over his face as he exhales slowly. “I take it you saw Mike’s video.”
Kris’ voice is clipped when he answers, as short as he’s ever been with Adam, “Your mother sent me the link.”
Adams eyes widen, “Mom knows?” before squeezing shut in resignation. “Neil.”
Kris nods, adding, “Yeah,” when he realizes that Adam’s closed eyes mean he didn’t see the gesture, though the anger in Kris’ voice, the accusation, makes Adam’s eyes snap open. “What I’m trying to figure out, though, is why I didn’t find out from you.”
Adam doesn’t flinch at the severity of Kris’ tone or expression, holding Kris’ gaze, but he absently begins picking at the polish on his nails. “It’s not a big deal, you know. It’s not exactly the first time someone’s implied that I’m some kind of a…a sinner.”
Kris feels his heart twist in his chest, and he sinks down on the bed beside Adam before his knees can give out on him.
Adam’s gaze turns toward his hands, and he abruptly stops his fidgeting, like it took catching it in the act to realize he was doing it. He turns back toward Kris slightly, staring at nothing and almost but not quite watching Kris out of the corner of his eye. “ I just…” He grimaces slightly. “I didn’t want it to affect you. You already have enough on your plate you’ve got to deal with.”
“And you don’t?” Kris shoots back, but there’s no anger in it this time, no place for it, because it’s not that Adam doesn’t trust Kris, but that he’s trying to protect him-which is kind of…sweet. Completely and totally unnecessary, but sweet.
He leans into Adam, bumping the other man’s shoulder with his own, letting the contact remain as he says, “Adam…whether I saw the video or not, it affects me. Because it affects you. You’re upset? I’m upset. Face it, man, I have a vested, and pretty darn selfish, interest in your wellbeing.”
Adam laughs a bit at that, meeting Kris’ eyes again as he does some shoulder-bumping of his own, expression gaining some teasing lasciviousness-nowhere approaching normal levels, but it’s something. “And in my being in general?”
Kris gives in to the humor for a moment, running his eyes the length of Adam’s body-and a fine being it is indeed. “Well, that goes without saying.” Before the smile even has time to leave his face, though, seriousness creeps back into his voice, compelled by the weight of his need to explain to Adam. “But, Adam…it doesn’t just affect me indirectly either. Saver and Gokey…in just a few seconds, they managed to condemn a pretty fair sized chunk of humanity. They implied that what I feel for you makes me-us-somehow…less in the eyes of God, and that kind of thing has always gotten to me, when people who call themselves Christian-or anyone, really-uses their religion as an excuse to spread that kind of narrow-minded, Stone Age morality. I mean, that God would say, “Love thy neighbor as thyself-except if he happens to be gay,” is just so patently ridiculous, I can’t believe anyone buys in to it.”
As Kris reels himself back in from his rant, forcing voice and breathing into decrescendo, he winces slightly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to start sermonizing.”
Adam smiles, more easily than he has all day. “Hey, it’s cool. I kinda like it when you get all worked up and passionate up on your soapbox. It’s hot.”
Kris feels his face heat; he’s not yet quite used to how free and sincere Adam is with that kind of compliment. Or how much he likes it.
“Besides,” Adam continues, “it’s a good soapbox to stand on.” He smirks mischievously. “Makes you look tall.”
Kris elbows him not entirely gently in the side, because maybe he’s short, but he’s exactly the right height to aim for the kidneys. It only makes Adam laugh harder, though, and bring in his arm to guard against further similar attack, which just means that Kris shoves at his shoulder instead, knocking Adam back onto the bed, because Kris may be fighting back laughter of his own, but he’s still defending the dignity of short men everywhere.
Adam remains sprawled back on the bed as his laughter winds down, fingers gently brushing against the sensitive flesh of the inside of Kris’ wrist where he’s got one hand on the bed, bracing him next to Adam, and Kris has to remind himself that there’s more he wants to say, because over the weeks of the competition, he’s seen Adam spread out like this, open, smiling, and somehow vulnerable, but he hadn’t been able to touch, and now that his is able-actively encouraged, even-he finds it almost impossible not to.
“The point is,” he says, voice firm with his conviction, because Adam needs to know Kris isn’t screwing around, “Sarver and Gokey’s video…that kind of thing is my problem, too. I mean, since we’re…together now-you know, officially-it affects both of us, and you-neither of us-should have to deal with this alone.”
Adam’s eyes go soft, even despite their teasing glint, and his fingers still against Kris’ wrist, resting over his pulse. “Officially?”
Kris grins as he echoes what he’d told Katy after last week’s elimination, “Unofficially officially.”
“Of course.” Adam curls his hand around Kris’ wrist, not really grasping, just holding, as his expression goes serious. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the video. I’ve just…been dealing with this type of thing for so long that normally it just, you know, rolls off my back, but… I guess I just didn’t expect this right now. I mean, I know Mike and Danny don’t really agree with how I choose to live my life, but I guess, after knowing each other this long, going through this process together, having talked to both of them so many times, I just didn’t expect them to be so…so casual about saying something like that.”
Kris lays his free hand on Adam’s stomach, both to show support and to keep from clenching it into a fist. “Like being stabbed in the back.”
Adam sighs, grip tightening on Kris’ wrist. “Yeah. I wanted to keep you from having to feel that.” He turns large, blue eyes toward Kris, face so deliberately hangdog that Kris can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood. “You forgive me for not telling you about the video?”
Kris pretends to consider it for a moment, cocking his head to the side in thought. “Well, I suppose I could. That is, if you promise not to treat me like I’m something delicate that needs to be bubble-wrapped. You keep up this paternal, older brotherly stuff, I’m gonna be too creeped out to ever have sex with you again.”
As if by just the mention of the word “sex,” the energy of the room shifts, becoming heated, anticipatory, wanting. Below Kris, Adam is still smiling with teasing good humor, but there’s something else behind it now, hunger growing in his eyes as he gazes up at Kris, the sprawl of his body somehow going from lazy to sensual without his moving a muscle. His grip on Kris’ wrist changes, not tightening so much as it becomes purposeful.
“Well,” and Adam’s voice has gone deep and husky, rumbling up from his chest, “we wouldn’t want that.”
Kris nods, eyes flicking from Adam’s face to his own hand resting on Adam’s stomach, splaying his fingers wide, last two digits brushing over the hem of Adam’s shirt, farther, to find the strip of bare skin exposed by his sprawl. “Be a real tragedy.”
Adam tugs at Kris’ wrist, and Kris follows the pull, stretching out on the bed so that he’s half on top of Adam, tucked into the space between Adam’s arm and body, hand on Adam’s stomach slipping over his side, pushing against the fabric to bare skin as it goes, already hard cock snugged against the just of Adam’s hip. Adam’s hand leaves Kris’ wrist to cup the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the soft hairs at the nape, the other coming seemingly from out of nowhere to glide over his ass, causing Kris to thrust helplessly against Adam’s hip, even as his surprised groan is swallowed up by Adam’s lips on his.
The contact starts out soft, slow, but it doesn’t stay that way for long, both of them too desperate after almost four days of so little contact of any kind, mouths moving slick and hot against one another, parting only for quick breaths when the need for oxygen overwhelms their need for each other. Eagerness makes their hands too clumsy for such precise actions as unfastening buttons or zippers, and they resort to shoving and pulling at fabric to get to one another.
Lost in the feel of Adam, the taste of him, the heat of him, Kris forgets until he feels Adam’s hands at his waist, tugging at the button of his jeans, that he’d had another reason for seeking Adam out. He pulls away from where Adam has already successfully negotiated the button and is now working on the zipper of his jeans, shifting slightly to throw a leg across Adam’s body before rising up on his knees straddling Adam’s hips.
Confusion colors the desire on Adam’s face as he looks up at Kris, hands curving around Kris’ thighs, caressing restlessly, as if eager to resume their previous task.
Kris braces his hands on the bed to either side of Adam’s head, leaning down over him, grinning wolfishly. “I promised your mother I’d take care of you tonight…and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”
Adam raises a slightly incredulous and wholly teasing eyebrow. “You promised my mother that you would come to my room, shove me onto the bed, and ravage me?”
Kris doesn’t rise to the bait, though he feels the flush in his cheeks at the idea of having that conversation with Leila, and also at the images Adam’s words plant in his mind. He raises his own eyebrow. “Gonna make a liar out of me?”
Adam’s grin is as plain a dare as any, and he makes a show of relaxing fully into the bed, whole body lifting in a graceful arc as he stretches his arms up over his head, eyes shining as Kris groans when the movement presses Adam’s hardness against his. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Kris rocks his hips down into Adam’s in retaliation, smiling smugly as Adam lets out a guttural moan, eyes squeezing shut, presses his head back into the mattress, and Kris’ hand is irresistibly drawn to the curve of the other man’s neck. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a brat?”
Adam pushes up into Kris’ hand, but otherwise maintains his recumbent posture, eyes still closed in pleasure as he grins. “Mm, constantly.”
Kris’ hand drifts up along Adam’s throat, over his jaw line, his cheek, skimming over his temple, fingers sinking into Adam’s soft, blue-streaked hair, leaning in closer to the man underneath him, and Adam, sensing his increased closeness, opens his eyes lazily. Thumb of the hand supporting him on the bed stroking absently at the hinge of Adam’s jaw, Kris says, “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I love you anyway.”
The smile that spreads itself across Adam’s face is pure joy, “A very good thing,” and as Kris leans down to kiss Adam again, just before their lips touch, Adam whispers, quiet in the close space between them, “Love you, too.”
They come together hungrily, need pushed higher by emotion, and Kris loves the way Adam just…opens to him, long, powerful body spread out beneath him, tongue curling around Kris’, inviting its thrust into Adam’s mouth, pressing his head back into the hand Kris has buried in his hair, moaning beautifully as Kris tightens his grip to encourage the curve of his neck.
Once Kris can summon the willpower to relinquish his hold in Adam’s hair, he runs his hands along Adam’s up-stretched arms, shoulder to fingertip and back, caressing the pale, freckled skin, lingering at the sensitive flesh of Adam’s triceps, wholly admiring of the fact that Adam is still just lying back, just how Kris wants him, letting Kris have whatever he wants, the only sign of any kind of struggle on Adam’s part the way his hands have curled themselves into fists above his head, and Kris is so grateful for Adam’s control, because even with this need to take care of Adam driving him tonight, if Adam were suddenly to decide to turn the tables, as desperate as his need for Adam is, Kris knows he wouldn’t have the strength to resist it.
Kris runs his fingertips down Adam’s sides, fingernails catching slightly in the fabric of his t-shirt as they skim over ribcage and waist, and Kris loves the way Adam moves into his touch, how he presses further into their kiss, slight whine in the back of his throat as he strains for it, like he wants all of Kris, all at once.
They pull apart reluctantly, foiled once again by their bodies’ need for oxygen, and Kris takes advantage of the moment, curling his fingers into the hem of Adam’s shirt and tugging it over his head, biting his lip as Adam arches his back so Kris can slide the garment out from under him, at the way the movement presses their hips into intimate contact, at the way Adam’s low, desire-laden voice requests, maybe demands, “Your turn,” and even though Kris can’t stop thinking about just pressing Adam into the bed and thrusting against him till they come in their jeans like teenagers, he takes his control in an iron grip, sitting back on his heels as he all but rips his own t-shirt off.
Kris immediately starts to lower himself back on top of Adam, but is stopped by the almost tangible press of Adam’s eyes upon him, bright blue slowly taking in everything, from the disarray of Kris’ hair to the way his jeans are barely staying on his hips, button undone and zipper lowering tooth by tooth with every movement. Kris can’t help leaning slightly into the touch of Adam’s eyes, just as if it were the touch of his hands, and normally this kind of regard would make him nervous, tense because he’s never felt comfortable being an object of lust, but somehow, with Adam, there is no trace of discomfort; it simply makes him feel almost powerful, sexy…wanted.
Adam’s hands clench in the sheets above his head as he brings heavy-lidded, hunger-filled eyes to meet Kris’. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
Kris raises an eyebrow, sitting back so he can take in all of Adam, trim waist and flat stomach, chest beautifully defined and artfully furred, leanly muscled arms stretched gracefully above him on the bed, all projecting such strength, but part and parcel with pale, almost delicate looking freckles scattered across his skin, the fine, elegant features of his face, framed by the sweep of Adam’s midnight-dark hair, and it shouldn’t fit together, should be too painfully contradictory to survive in contrast, but Adam…he makes it beautiful.
Kris’ throat goes tight, and he swallows hard, because even now, even with Adam spread out on the bed below and so clearly wanting, it’s hard for Kris to believe that he actually gets to have this, because Adam is wrong-Kris is not the one who’s gorgeous. “I think you’ve got that backwards.”
Adam opens his mouth-to argue with him, Kris knows-so before Adam has a chance to get a word out, Kris is on him again, claiming Adam’s mouth with his own and doing his utmost to distract Adam thoroughly. His hands explore Adam’s body with equal intensity, curious still, because even having already slept together, their want had made them hasty, taking that closeness for granted, forgetting momentarily about the chaos of the coming week, and Kris isn’t making that mistake again, even with the persistent, fervent desire pushing at the back of his skull, learning Adam’s body slowly, fascinated by the sharp line of his collarbone, by the soft swirl of hair surrounding small, pinkish nipples, buds already hard with arousal even before Kris’ greedy fingers have touched them, though that doesn’t stop Kris from teasing them further, running his thumbs over the stiff buds, rolling them between his fingers before squeezing slightly, then with more intent at Adam’s emphatic sound of approval.
Pulling back reluctantly from Adam’s mouth, he follows with lips, tongue, and teeth the trail that his hands had blazed, nipping at the cords of Adam’s neck, lingering in the hollow of his throat, having to remind himself forcibly to pull away before leaves a mark there-because there’s no way the press wouldn’t remark on Adam wearing a high-neck shirt tomorrow-before taking over duty at Adam’s chest, a little uncertain because he’s not sure how particular actions translate from what he’s done before to what he’s doing now, but he’s encouraged by the absolutely fantastic sounds Adam is making, from deep, throaty growls, to choked off, desperate gasps, using them as a map of sorts, pointing towards what Adam likes, and it has the side benefit of freeing up his hands so that he can explore lower, over the ridges of Adam’s ribcage and stomach, dipping into his navel and noting for future reference how that makes Adam squirm ticklishly.
Once Kris reaches the waistband of Adam’s jeans, he feels Adam inhale sharply, and Kris glances up from where he’s been intent on Adam’s left nipple to find Adam watching him avidly, entire body taut with expectation, muscles of Adam’s stomach practically vibrating under Kris’ hands. Kris knows what Adam wants, what he needs, so he very deliberately skims his hands downward…and completely bypasses the prominent bulge in Adam’s jeans that’s screaming for his attention, running his fingernails over the coarse weave of the fabric covering Adam’s thighs, impish light flaring in his eyes.
Adam’s head drops back against the bed as he groans, “You asshole.”
Kris’ already broad grin widens farther. “Impatient, are we?” Kris stifles laughter as Adam glares at him. “You know what they say about good things and waiting.”
Adam raises a sarcastic eyebrow, but though Adam is a far better actor than Kris, he can’t hide the smile shining out from behind blue eyes. “Yes, well, I also seem to remember something about ‘coming’ going along with that.”
Kris bursts into surprised laughter, followed only seconds later by Adam. Once he can take a large enough breath between laughs to speak, Kris says, “Guess I can’t argue with that,” giving in gracefully, because Kris is growing just as impatient as Adam to get to where he wants to be. He gently slaps Adam’s hip. “Scoot up some, though.” He extends his arms out in from of him, lacing his fingers and cracking his knuckles before letting them drop, ostentatiously stretching his neck from side to side, like a boxer warming up for a round. “Give me some room to work.”
Adam moves with eager alacrity, bare feet skidding over crumpled sheets as he scoots back on the bed, stretching out once again on his back once he reaches the headboard, before seeming to rethink his position, folding a pillow behind his head so that he is propped up, smile unfurling, slow and sensual, as he looks back at Kris, who can’t resist crawling up Adam’s long body to taste that smile, running his tongue along Adam’s full lower lip before briefly licking inside his mouth, kiss just hard enough so Kris can still feel it on his lips as he pulls back, sliding back down along Adam so that he can work at the fastenings of Adam’s jeans.
Kris has to force calmness into his hands, as his excitement is making his fingers clumsy, fumbling on button and zipper-patience as well, taking the time to shove Adam’s jeans and briefs down far enough that the other man can kick them off with a smooth flick of his ankle, even though Kris wants to fall upon Adam’s hard, thick cock the second it’s revealed. However, as soon as Adam’s completely naked, bared to him, that temporary patience falls by the wayside, and Kris eagerly leans back in to take Adam’s length into his mouth.
Kris’ one previous attempt makes him by no means an expert, which is just as well, because Kris finds he enjoys the experimentation, rediscovering the weight of Adam’s cock on his tongue, the way its thickness fills his mouth as he takes Adam deeper, pushing against his own limits, like so many other instances where Adam is concerned.
Finally accepting his temporary defeat, Kris wraps his hand around the part of Adam’s cock he can’t take into his mouth, stroking, squeezing gently, eventually falling into a rhythm, taking Adam as deeply as he can, lips meeting his hand around the base of Adam’s cock as he swallows against the head, loving the way Adam’s practically squirming on the bed trying not to thrust deeper than Kris can take, but regretting now the position he’d demanded of the other man, wanting desperately to feel Adam’s hands on him, but not quite desperate enough to be willing to give up Adam’s cock, even for the seconds it would take to make the request.
Kris pulls almost all the way off Adam’s length for a moment, running his tongue over the steadily leaking head, relishing Adam’s taste, wanting more, before taking Adam deep once more, suddenly enough that Adam’s control lags as he arches so hard Kris has to take his hand off Adam’s cock to pin his hips so that Adam doesn’t inadvertently choke him, and the sound that rips from Adam, part growl, part scream, makes Kris’ own erection jerk within the confines of his jeans, makes him open eyes he hadn’t realized he closed to take in Adam, flushed and panting and gorgeous, splayed across the sheets.
Adam’s half-lidded, desire-bright eyes lock with Kris’, tongue darting out to moisten his lips before he manages to get out, between heaving breaths, “Kris…come up here.”
Kris’ brows draw together in confusion, and he hums negation around Adam’s cock, either the response or the vibration of the hum causing Adam to throw his head back into the pillow and groan-Kris prefers to think the latter, but in any case, he’s absolutely not giving up Adam’s cock. Adam had pulled him away last time before Kris could bring Adam to completion, feel the pulse of Adam’s cock against his tongue as he came, before he could taste that elemental part of Adam, keep that much of Adam inside him, temporary as it might have been. Kris wants it, needs it in ways he can’t explain, so there’s absolutely nothing that Adam can say that will convince him-
“Please…Kris,” he breathes, fists clenching against the headboard as his voice turns darker, eyes blazing into Kris’, “come up here so you can fuck me.”
This time Kris does choke a bit as surprise makes him take Adam too deep, and he comes up spluttering and coughing, even as his hand shoots down, digging the heel into the base of his own cock as he struggles not to come, because God, just the thought…
Red-faced from nearly strangling on his own mental image, Kris gasps out, “Dude, warn a guy,” and the fact that his voice comes out raspy and hoarse, due more to his attempts at deep throating Adam than his coughing fit, is not helping to dampen Kris’ arousal in the slightest.
Adam looks disgustingly smug, but it’s a smugness quickly transferred to Kris as he leans back down, blowing cool air over Adam’s saliva-slick cock, straightening back up with a mischievous parting lick to the head.
Adam’s eyes clench tightly shut as he arches his back, head tossing on the pillow as he growls from behind gritted teeth, “Fuck, Allen! Quit fucking around and fuck me already!”
While most of the time, getting the normally extremely articulate Adam Lambert to use the word “fuck” three times in the space of one breath would be confirmation enough, Kris has to be absolutely certain, because his own fantasies haven’t yet progressed this far-and why it’s easier to imagine Adam taking him rather than vice versa Kris can’t understand-but he just has to ask, “You like that?” though he wishes the question had come out more serious and concerned rather than breathy and turned on as it did.
Adam’s eyes, when he looks at Kris again, are weighed down with something, something old and fragile, but packed away so carefully and thoroughly it’s beyond threat of breaking. “I’ll like it with you.”
There’s a history, a pain behind those words that makes Kris think he’ll be needing to break the death threats back out if Adam ever decides to tell him about it, but right now is not the time for that. Right now Kris is going to make Adam forget about anyone he’s been with before. Right now Kris is going to give Adam exactly what he wants, what he needs.
He’ll give Adam everything.
Grateful that his own solitary experimentation has given him some experience to work with, he stretches Adam slowly, because even though Adam is trying with every other breath to convince him Enough, I’m good, Get on with it already, muscles in his thighs flexing impatiently where they’re splayed around Kris, Kris feels how tight Adam is around his fingers, despite enough lube to slip a Volvo into a garden hose, muscles slow to give and relax, Adam’s fists clenching and unclenching in the sheets above his head, restlessness not entirely borne of pleasure, and no matter how prettily Adam begs, Kris isn’t moving forward until he’s sure Adam can take it.
He strokes into Adam with two, then three fingers, fascinated by the way Adam’s entire body shudders when Kris’ fingertips linger over Adam’s prostate, minute circular movements that make Adam uncurl his fingers to press his palms flat against the headboard, leverage to shove his body down onto Kris’ thrusting fingers, makes him draw elegant brows together in concentration, eyes tightly shut before flying open as suddenly something inside Adam just gives, surprised, hopelessly aroused gasp escaping his lips as Kris’ fingers suddenly slip deeper into him, muscles still tight, but welcoming now, and that’s all Kris can take.
Adam’s disappointed groan when Kris pulls his fingers from his body only adds to the urgency of the moment, lube-slick fingers fumbling at the zipper of his jeans, which, God, what the hell had he been thinking not having taken them off already?
When his hand slips off the metal tab a third time, Adam growls his impatience, bolting up into a sitting position and taking over, deftly undoing the fastening and shoving Kris’ jeans and boxers down to his thighs.
Cock suddenly free of the constricting material, Kris gasps in relief, practically lunging in to Adam, bringing their mouths into almost painful contact, kiss openmouthed and predatory, before shoving Adam back onto the bed once more.
Adam falls back without protest, twisting to delve once again into the drawer of the bedside table from which he’d produced the lube earlier, fingers stuttering over contents both completely and less than innocent before giving a triumphant, “Hah!” as he extracts a box of condoms. The box is unopened and looks brand new, corners pristine and edges unscuffed, and either Adam treats his condoms like priceless objets d’art, or he bought these within the past few days, probably after they’d moved into the hotel. Also, more notably, and what’s got Kris raising an eyebrow, it’s a package of three-dozen.
Catching sight of Kris’ expression, Adam just shrugs, settling back into the bed and tossing the box to Kris, smug grin touching the corners of his mouth as he raises his arms to curl behind his head, and his eyes aren’t suggestive-they’re downright expository. “So I’m an optimist. Sue me.”
Kris snorts, glad now for the moment of pause the scramble to disrobe has given him, because he actually remembers this time that it’s difficult to accomplish anything with lube on your fingers, wiping the excess on a handy bit of sheet before tearing at the ridiculously large box of condoms. “What I can’t figure out is when you had time to sneak out and get any.”
This time it’s Adam’s turn to snort, even as his eyes are glued to the way Kris’ fingers are fumbling with the foil-wrapped packet he’s finally fished out from its brethren, the rest of the box tossed carelessly aside, packets flying and coming down like X-rated confetti on the floor. “‘Sneak’ nothing. There was a Walgreen’s on the way back from the preliminary with Kiss.” Mouth stretching into a smirk, he gestures with his chin at the condom in Kris’ hands. “Want some help with that?”
Kris shakes his head, both at Adam’s facetious helpfulness-but damn, even without the impediment of lube-slick fingertips, the blasted foil packet is testing Kris’ ingenuity to open-and at Adam’s complete incapacity to be embarrassed, by anything, it seems, because even after getting married, Kris still has to fight back a blush buying condoms, like he’s sixteen again and trying to hide them from his mom. He huffs in impatient pleasure as he finally gets the packet open enough to work a finger inside to tear it further, before stuttering to a halt as a thought occurs to him, because Adam had met with Kiss on Friday, and on Fridays… “Wait, you didn’t make Paul go in there with you, did you?”
The Idol handlers for any given contestant shift from day to day, depending on the schedule and what abilities are called for, and as in any situation wherein participants don’t have a say in with whom they interact, conflicts had emerged, the most heated of which had been between Adam and Paul, out and proud flamboyant homosexual versus sermonizing and demonizing outspoken homophobe, though “conflict” is perhaps the wrong term for it since, as Adam has said, there are only so many times you can be called “faggot” before all you feel is frustration at the lack of originality, but certainly Paul felt there was a conflict, and Adam equally certainly enjoyed provoking that conflict within Paul.
Adam’s the very picture of innocent nonchalance, and Kris doesn’t buy it for a minute, even if he does appreciate how Adam manages to pull it off even with his cock lying hard and full and demanding attention against his stomach. “Hey, it’s his fault he followed me in without asking what I was going to get.” Adam’s pretense is blown as he breaks into helpless laughter. “God, Kris…you should have seen his face. There he is, going on about how we don’t have time for my every whim, not paying a bit of attention to where we are in the store, and he looks up and-bang!-Trojan Man, right in the face. Oh! And then…” Adam pauses to get a hold of his laughter enough to continue, and Kris doesn’t know if he can take any more because he’s already doubled over, forehead on Adam’s stomach, shaking with laughter of his own. “This sales clerk wanders over-I swear she couldn’t have been much older than Allison-and asks if my boyfriend and I need help finding the kind we’re looking for.”
Kris collapses on Adam, laughing hard enough his ears are ringing, their hysterics rocking them together. However, it’s just a matter of seconds before the purpose behind the rocking changes and the laughter segues into deep-throated moans and turned on gasps, because oh, yeah, there’s a reason they’re naked and in bed together and Kris has an opened condom packet in his hand.
Adam’s hands find their way to the sides of Kris’ face, carding briefly through his short hair as Adam kisses him, hard and quick. “Alright, enough screwing around.” Then he catches himself, smirks and says, “Make that not enough screwing around.”
Kris groans out a laugh. “Man, that’s bad. Even for you.”
Adam just smiles back, all pride in his wordsmithery. “Get to it, then.”
Kris leans back from their kiss, snapping off a salute as Adam resettles himself on the bed. “And they say that romance is dead.”
Attention back on the task at hand, Kris wastes no time rolling the condom down the length of his cock, both out of impatience just to be inside Adam already and because he’s not exactly certain how much more stimulation his body can take without coming. He slips two fingers back inside Adam, thrusting shallowly and watching Adam’s reaction closely, making sure Adam’s still ready, but Adam just writhes up into his hands, body more relaxed now than before, wrung out from laughter, breaking himself open for Kris, pushing any lingering doubt about what Adam wants out of Kris’ head, because there’s only room left for nowwanthaveGodAdam…
Kris pulls his fingers from Adam’s body, doing his best to ignore Adam’s resulting gasp and the effect it has on his control, takes a second-all he can bring himself to spare-to slick his cock with still lube-wet fingers before pressing the head against Adam, pushing inside, slowly-God, so slowly-because Adam is tight, close in a way Kris has never felt, and it’s all Kris can do not to come immediately.
Gathering the few fine tendrils that are all that remain of his control, Kris thrusts carefully, once, twice, Adam folding his legs to brace his feet against the bed, giving him the leverage to meet Kris halfway, and Kris feels surrounded by Adam, embraced, strong, encircling pressure as Adam raises his legs farther to wrap around Kris’ waist, to pull Kris farther into him, so deep inside that Kris is convinced, in his lust-crazed, addled mind, that he must be touching Adam’s soul.
And Adam…Adam is a sight to behold, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open and panting as he throws his head back, muscles in his arms taut, straining from his death grip on the sheets above his head, chest heaving with his rapid breaths, whole body arching back, exposed, making himself vulnerable and not caring, and more than anything, it’s how open Adam is to him, in every way, that has Kris racing towards the edge.
Suddenly Adam’s eyes snap open, normal bright blue almost navy with want, and Adam groans, breathless, bucking up into Kris. “Fuck, Kris-harder, c’mon…” and his voice is desperate, almost pleading, and how could Kris ever say no to that?
Kris’ thrusts become more forceful, pace quickening, as he leans over Adam, weight supported by his left hand on the bed next to Adam’s side-where Kris can feel Adam’s heaving breaths as the rapid, repeated expansion of his ribs presses rhythmically into the inside of his wrist-right hand skimming up Adam’s body, coming to rest over the arch of his throat, feeling Adam’s heartbeat against his palm, feeling his own heart match it as he leans in to claim Adam’s lips with his once again.
The force of will holding back Kris’ orgasm crumbling and soon to vanish completely, Kris strokes his hand back down Adam’s body to wrap around Adam’s cock, fisting the hard shaft, way made slick by the precum leaking from the head, for which Kris is thankful, because he’s got very little time for finesse, only seconds away from coming, and he wants Adam with him when he does.
Just when Kris thinks he’s about to break, Adam jerks under him, once, then again before he’s coming in a warm rush over Kris’ hand, and the contractions rippling through him, squeezing Kris, God, tighter, force Kris over the edge as well, and he comes hard enough his vision grays out for a second.
Kris manages to pull out of Adam carefully, disposing of the condom in the strategically placed trashcan before collapsing to the bed, and he considers it a mark of his good manners and upbringing that he lands only half on top of Adam, his shaky inhalations harmonizing with Adam’s as they come down slowly.
Adam’s chuff of laughter ruffles Kris’ hair, and Kris grins stupidly into Adam’s neck because it echoes exactly what Kris is feeling, equal parts smug and amazed that they could evoke such strong responses in each other, along with a dash of, Oh, God, we have to practice choreography in the morning. “Yeah?” Kris doesn’t need the confirmation so much as he just wants to feel the way Adam shivers as Kris’ breath whispers across his collarbone, and he presses a kiss to the underside of Adam’s jaw when he hears the other man smile.
“Yeah,” and the next is said quietly enough that Kris isn’t entirely sure Adam’s not talking to himself. “Knew it would be good with you.”
Kris frowns slightly because, yeah, a story in there somewhere, probably someone Kris needs to hunt down and maim, but for the moment, Kris just adds it to the long list of things he wants to find out about Adam once they’re out of their current media spectacle, because right now they’re curled together in the warmth of their afterglow, grateful once again to the intelligence behind the room arrangement as they use Kleenexes from the bedside table to clean up the mess between them before it glues them together, before they sink into one another once again.
Kris buries his face in the bend of Adam’s neck and shoulder, throwing an arm across Adam’s stomach, laying against the arm Adam crosses over to rest a hand on Kris’ hip. “Mmm,” he mumbles, already mostly asleep, post-sex lassitude claiming him quickly, “you don’t mind if I just pass out, do you?”
The strength of Adam’s replying yawn almost upsets Kris’ perch, but he tightens his hold on Adam, maintaining his position and earning him a pleased noise from Adam in the process.
“Not at all,” Adam says around the end of his yawn. “Right there with you, even. One of the perks of sleeping with a guy, I’m told.”
Kris’ breath of laughter is lost in his own yawn. “Knew there had to be a reason I loved you.”
Adam pulls Kris in to him further, and Kris feels Adam lay a fleeting kiss to the top of his head. “Backatcha, smartass.”
There is so much potential in that sentence for a pun of epic proportions, if only Kris weren’t too tired to take advantage of it.
He feels himself drifting of, almost doesn’t hear Adam’s whispered, “Kris?”
He rouses as much as he can, fighting back unconsciousness. “Hmm?”
“Thanks for taking care of me.”
Kris is too far gone to speak, but he hopes the tightening of his arm around Adam conveys his “you’re welcome.”
~~~~
The morning comes much too quickly, and Kris barely has time to dash back to his room-past Adam’s security guard, who barely raises an eyebrow at his early morning sprint from Adam’s room-for a quick shower and a fresh change of clothes before he and his partner in crime are hustled into one of Idol’s ubiquitous black SUVs with their bodyguards and handlers to head for the studio.
(And if anyone notices how Adam’s deliberate, mischievous shifting in his seat makes Kris’ cheeks heat even as he smiles knowingly, no one mentions it.)
A wrench is thrown into Kris’ good mood when they arrive at the studio, because even as Allison wraps him up in an enthusiastic hug, over her shoulder, there’s Danny and Michael, and they’re just standing around and talking, waiting like everyone else for the choreographer to arrive, but it riles Kris all the same, and he can feel his teeth grinding.
Allison pulls back from him, eyes staring up at him confusedly from under the riotous color of her bangs. “Hey, what’s up? You turned to stone all of a sudden.” She thumps his chest, as if testing to see if he’s still flesh and blood and not granite. “What’s got you all Medusa-fied?”
Ah, Allison’s tutors must have started in with the Greek mythology. Kris shakes off his temper and manages a genuine smile for Allison. “No, I’m good. I just…” He trails off when he can’t come up with a suitable excuse.
Adam swoops in, throwing an arm over Kris’ shoulders and proving that his excellent sense of timing applies to many situations, as he rattle off glibly, “Now, see, I told him he needed to let our chiropractor check that out, but does he listen?”
Concern touches Allison’s face, but Adam’s impish tone makes her raise a suspicious eyebrow even as she circles Kris to poke in the general area of his spine. “You hurt your back?”
Kris lets out a less than manly yelp as one of Allison’s pokes veers too close to a ticklish spot, glaring at Adam as the other man struggles to cover a laugh. “Sort of,” Kris hedges, trying to dissuade Allison from yanking his shirt up, presumably so that she can give his back a visual inspection.
Retrieving his arm from Kris’ shoulders, letting his fingers linger briefly on the nape of Kris’ neck, Adam looks down at where Allison is prodding random vertebrae. “I worked him over pretty hard last night.”
Kris nearly strangles on his own spit and manages to turn it into a cough, which handily can also serve as an excuse for his rapidly reddening cheeks, fortunate, since out of the corner of his eye-and boy, is he grateful that Allison’s grip on his t-shirt is keeping him from having to turn and face her-he can see Allison’s other eyebrow rocket upward to join the first, and she brushes her bangs to the side with a deft hand so that her expression of incredulity is not lost on them.
Adam just shrugs like he doesn’t understand why they’re reacting in such a manner, and Kris nearly groans because doesn’t Adam know by now that the innocent act only makes people more suspicious? “What? It was just an impromptu dance rehearsal.”
And there Kris is, back to choking on his own spit, because Adam doesn’t actually have to say the words “horizontal tango” for the joke to carry across the space between them.
Adam throws an arm across Kris’ chest, hooking his hand on Kris’ far shoulder, pulling him in slightly to press a kiss just behind his ear-another one of those things Adam can do without anyone thinking twice about it, because, hey, that’s just Adam, although, Kris is perversely pleased to note, the gesture does make Sarver harrumph and turn away and Gokey stare slightly gape-mouthed in what looks like heterosexual panic-before Adam pulls back to wink at Allison. “Our boy’s got some serious skills he hasn’t been sharing with the class.”
Kris wonders if a blush can become a perpetual state, though there’s pride touching his grin as he ducks his head.
Allison looks back and forth between the two of them, gaze growing steadily more suspicious, and she releases Kris’ t-shirt with a disgruntled tug. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”
Adam nods vigorously. “Absolutely.”
Allison rolls her eyes disgustedly before abandoning them to go warn Lil and Anoop that Adam and Kris are in one of those moods.
Laughing as Anoop spins around to look at the two of them in mock-horror before practically folding himself in two to hide behind Allison, Kris jabs an elbow at Adam, causing the other man to have to jump back to dodge it. “You’re awful.”
Adam moves back in close enough to make their conversation intimate, but not so close that Kris has to strain his neck looking up at him, and Kris is going to have to ask how he does that. “All the best lies are mostly truth,” he says between laughs, eyes on the continued antics across the room because now Lil has joined in with Anoop in trying to hide behind Allison, but with Allison now trying to hide behind them, it’s turned into a bizarre form of leap frog.
The joking is pushed to the background, business elbowing its way to the forefront as their choreographer, Mandy, enters the room, serenaded into the studio by Matt’s now habitual invocation of Barry Manilow, though he only makes it through the first couple of bars before Megan literally takes matters into her own hands and slaps them over his mouth, and when Scott calls out into the sudden silence, “Whoever that was, bless you,” the entire room breaks apart into laughter.
Kris feels himself tensing again as Gokey and Sarver wander over to join the rest of them in a tight knot around Mandy as she pulls her notes on their dances from a bag that Kris knows from experience is Mary Poppins-ish in dimension; however, when Adam lays a surreptitious hand on the small of Kris’ back, Kris feels tensed muscles unknot just a bit.
Adam leans in to Kris’ ear to whisper, so low it’s almost subvocal. “Let it go.” When Kris looks at him askance, because turning the other cheek is all well and good, but seriously, Adam continues, with a devilish tilt of his head, “Besides, I have it on good authority that karma’s about to bite them in the ass.”
Before Kris has a chance to do more than raise an eyebrow at that cryptic statement, Mandy’s calling for their attention, quickly running over her observations and critiques of their last rehearsal before launching into the game plan for today, which seems to involve a mysterious change to the group’s first number, dealing particularly with Messrs. Gokey and Sarver and a series of very intricate, highly complicated dance steps, but hey, everyone else’s part is pretty much the same as before, so why don’t they take five while she works one-on-two with the new focal points of the number, who are each wearing a look of undisguised terror at the scope of what they have to learn.
As Mandy leads Sarver and Gokey to their doom, the rest of the Idols only mutter surprisedly amongst themselves for a few seconds before breaking apart towards their various diversions, because free time has become so rare a commodity for them that they know better than to spend it trying to figure out why they’ve got it.
Kris and Adam hang back momentarily, heading in the general direction of where Allison and Scott are trying for what has to be the hundredth time to talk Anoop into a game of Truth or Dare. Not taking his eyes from the battle of wills before him, Kris cocks his head to the side and says, “Let me guess: Mandy’ll run them ragged for a couple of hours before, ah, ‘changing her mind’ and deciding to drop the new choreography altogether.”
Adam’s grin, when he looks at Kris, is positively evil. “Three hours.”
This time it’s Kris’ arm that finds its way to Adam’s shoulders as his grin widens to match the other man’s. “Nice.”
~
Comments = love, and as The Beatles say, that's all you really need. :) Also, a present for those who've taken the dive and read all the way to the end, an unintentionally (probably) slashy cover of Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out for a Hero" that I listened to while editing this bitch and thought about Adam and Kris download here or maybe listen here while commenting? (subtle hint :) )
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