Ficlet; It's a good burn.
Title : It's a good burn.
Rating : R
Pairing : Adam/Kris {AI8}
Notes : Do not own. Written for Britt (brittwinchester). My first time writing Kradam so I didn't want to do too much until I was more comfortable with their rhythm. :) Unbeta'd
Adam looks good, sitting there with his hands folded patiently in his lap. Kris doesn't know how he can manage to always be so calm. He's got this wall built so thick and high that his nerves just don't seem to matter. With Kris, it's different. As they stand up on the stage or behind the curtain the nerves build in his gut, tight and squeezing hard until he can't take it anymore.
Adam looks up, and it takes a while for Kris to realize he's staring right back at him, and smiling so beautiful the whole room just has to be watching. But when he breaks their glance and looks around, it's no different than it was ten minutes before. People are reading, or chatting quietly between themselves.
It's just not fair. He feels like a child who doesn't get their way, but it's as simple as that. All these people just don't understand how painful it is to sit and wait, his future dangling before his eyes.
He tells one of the men who prefers not to be called a bodyguard and honestly looks more like a wrestler than anything that he's going for a walk. The air will do some good for his labored lungs.
It's chilly out tonight, and Kris finds himself wishing he brought a jacket. Off the side of the studio is a dark little alley. The first time he came here it was a bit creepy, but quiet and comforting compared to the busy bustle inside. Now it's become a second home, a place to just take his head out of this game called American Idol and let himself be the Kris Allen he once was.
There's a click hitting the night air like a thunder clap, and when Kris turns he sees Adam standing completely still just beyond the door. He's smiling at Kris, the color of his pretty red lips vibrant under a dying street light.
"You okay? You looked pretty tense in there." Adam's the first one to speak, his voice just as melodic as always.
"It's hard, Adam."
Adam comes forward, wrapping his arms around Kris' tired shoulders and whispering lightly in his ear. Kris isn't sure what he's saying, but this is Adam and whatever it is doesn't need vowels or exact words to be meaningful.
"You'll be okay, man," Adam whispers like he's afraid to wake the moon. Kris barely notices Adam bringing his hands up, but he can feel the distinct warmth of the large hands cupping his cold cheeks.
It's not the words that brings a warmth to Kris, but instead the way Adam's looking at him. Adam's got the brightest blue eyes Kris has ever seen, such a delicate color for the firm face. When they look at each other, like this, just two people in the middle of a broken down alley it's as if a spark ignites. They've already got fire, they always have, but now there's flames, burning bright and high over the sky.
Their lips touch, and the heat hits the world. Adam's lips are softer than he thought, plush and round in all the right places. He's kissing back, past any ounce of surprise, and their tongues are sliding together in a private dance.
Adam tastes like warm vanilla, but he feels, oh God he feels like heaven. Their hands are sliding across clothes, and Kris can imagine the stylists face if they saw how Adam's coat was carelessly thrown over a rusted garbage can.
The cold air hits hard against Kris' chest as soon as Adam pulls the flimsy t-shirt away from his body. His nipples are hard, and Adam's pressing his fingers against them and pulling a moan from deep within Kris.
It's so hot between them, the tight leather of Adam's pants grinding against denim, thrusting almost frantically to reach the tip of the fire they've built. Kris wants to feel it, feel Adam unravel and lose the composure he holds so fucking close.
"More, harder." Kris doesn't know he's begging until the words have already left his lips, and Adam's pulling Kris' legs up around his hips.
Adam's holding Kris up, pushing him against the brick wall. It's burning the skin at his back, a sharp needy pain as Adam grinds harder and faster. He calls out when he comes, loud and desperate in the air. When Adam follows soon after Kris can hear the melody playing softly in his ears.
Rating : R
Pairing : Adam/Kris {AI8}
Notes : Do not own. Written for Britt (brittwinchester). My first time writing Kradam so I didn't want to do too much until I was more comfortable with their rhythm. :) Unbeta'd
Adam looks good, sitting there with his hands folded patiently in his lap. Kris doesn't know how he can manage to always be so calm. He's got this wall built so thick and high that his nerves just don't seem to matter. With Kris, it's different. As they stand up on the stage or behind the curtain the nerves build in his gut, tight and squeezing hard until he can't take it anymore.
Adam looks up, and it takes a while for Kris to realize he's staring right back at him, and smiling so beautiful the whole room just has to be watching. But when he breaks their glance and looks around, it's no different than it was ten minutes before. People are reading, or chatting quietly between themselves.
It's just not fair. He feels like a child who doesn't get their way, but it's as simple as that. All these people just don't understand how painful it is to sit and wait, his future dangling before his eyes.
He tells one of the men who prefers not to be called a bodyguard and honestly looks more like a wrestler than anything that he's going for a walk. The air will do some good for his labored lungs.
It's chilly out tonight, and Kris finds himself wishing he brought a jacket. Off the side of the studio is a dark little alley. The first time he came here it was a bit creepy, but quiet and comforting compared to the busy bustle inside. Now it's become a second home, a place to just take his head out of this game called American Idol and let himself be the Kris Allen he once was.
There's a click hitting the night air like a thunder clap, and when Kris turns he sees Adam standing completely still just beyond the door. He's smiling at Kris, the color of his pretty red lips vibrant under a dying street light.
"You okay? You looked pretty tense in there." Adam's the first one to speak, his voice just as melodic as always.
"It's hard, Adam."
Adam comes forward, wrapping his arms around Kris' tired shoulders and whispering lightly in his ear. Kris isn't sure what he's saying, but this is Adam and whatever it is doesn't need vowels or exact words to be meaningful.
"You'll be okay, man," Adam whispers like he's afraid to wake the moon. Kris barely notices Adam bringing his hands up, but he can feel the distinct warmth of the large hands cupping his cold cheeks.
It's not the words that brings a warmth to Kris, but instead the way Adam's looking at him. Adam's got the brightest blue eyes Kris has ever seen, such a delicate color for the firm face. When they look at each other, like this, just two people in the middle of a broken down alley it's as if a spark ignites. They've already got fire, they always have, but now there's flames, burning bright and high over the sky.
Their lips touch, and the heat hits the world. Adam's lips are softer than he thought, plush and round in all the right places. He's kissing back, past any ounce of surprise, and their tongues are sliding together in a private dance.
Adam tastes like warm vanilla, but he feels, oh God he feels like heaven. Their hands are sliding across clothes, and Kris can imagine the stylists face if they saw how Adam's coat was carelessly thrown over a rusted garbage can.
The cold air hits hard against Kris' chest as soon as Adam pulls the flimsy t-shirt away from his body. His nipples are hard, and Adam's pressing his fingers against them and pulling a moan from deep within Kris.
It's so hot between them, the tight leather of Adam's pants grinding against denim, thrusting almost frantically to reach the tip of the fire they've built. Kris wants to feel it, feel Adam unravel and lose the composure he holds so fucking close.
"More, harder." Kris doesn't know he's begging until the words have already left his lips, and Adam's pulling Kris' legs up around his hips.
Adam's holding Kris up, pushing him against the brick wall. It's burning the skin at his back, a sharp needy pain as Adam grinds harder and faster. He calls out when he comes, loud and desperate in the air. When Adam follows soon after Kris can hear the melody playing softly in his ears.