Musings
Title: Musings
Description: One shot, Adam's POV
Pairing: Kris Allen/Adam Lambert
Rating: PG13 for some language and suggestions.
Springboard: Adam Lambert has a crush on Kris Allen. Has anyone ever asked why?
For the mods, I don't know how to send you a message directly, but could you help me get an author tag? Thanks so much! This site is AWESOME!
MUSINGS
I had a crush on Kris Allen the first time I saw him.
No, scrap that. I fell in love with Kris Allen the first time I saw him.
People from all over say that I have a magnetic personality -- that I kind of suck people into this vortex that is me. Seriously? I think it's flattering, but "magnetic" is just a word. A word that falls flat because if I were magnetic, there are hardly any words to describe Kris Allen.
Have you seen the way his hair falls? All mussed and brown and it sticks in all directions. He says he hates it, but seriously, if I had hair like that I wouldn't even have to use half of the products I slather all over mine just to get the bed-head effect he achieves so effortlessly. It's a fall-in-your-face sort of hair, just right for grasping. I have lost count of all the times I've wished I could run my hand in them, to see my edges join with his.
Have you seen his eyes? No one should have the kind of eyes he has, because those should be licensed as a deadly weapon. He could kill with those eyes. Melt with those eyes. Charm with those eyes. Peel off all your layers, one at a time, to see the real you beneath, with those eyes. Close off the whole world between yourself and him, all with those eyes. Own you with his eyes.
Have you seen his lips? God -- smooth and soft, thin when unhappy, effusive when giddy. The smattering of stubble above it supposedly is to make him look older, but why do you need age when you've got Kris Allen's lips? I can stare at them for days, national television be damned. I swear I can almost feel the velvet of it, the suppleness. If I can touch, I am sure my hand will burn, but I will happily exchange one of my hands for the fleeting second that I could feel his lips on my skin.
Have you seen the way he walks? That subtle roll of the hip, the squaring of his shoulders -- all man, not mine. The swing is enough to suggest carnal thoughts in my brain in overdrive, and I am not even drunk. I am simply high on the slice of vibrant manhood that coalesced to shape itself into Kris Allen. There is no other shape that is as perfect, as natural.
Have you seen him sing? The way his eyes crinkle up, his nose wrinkles. The way his jaw moves slightly to the side, straining for that note. The way a few veins bulge in his neck, his music and his body battling it out for supremacy, and the way his soul wins, always wins. The way he raises his eyes after every song, an awakening to them, as if he had just come out of a trance, and realizes that he had just sung for a couple of million people. The way he looks at you, like you're the only thing that matters in this world. Like every word is yours. Like every syllable is you.
Have you seen Kris Allen, really seen him? If you see him half the way I do, then you'll understand why I fell in love with him.
And maybe you'll understand why, despite being told we shouldn't, I sneak away after every performance show and vote for him like crazy, week in and week out: a secret between my fingers and me. And I will do it, over and over again, simply because it keeps him with me, where I can observe him from the opposite island that is my bed, and where I can continue to dream about Kris -- his hair, his eyes, his lips, his hips, his song -- and the way he simply is.
Description: One shot, Adam's POV
Pairing: Kris Allen/Adam Lambert
Rating: PG13 for some language and suggestions.
Springboard: Adam Lambert has a crush on Kris Allen. Has anyone ever asked why?
For the mods, I don't know how to send you a message directly, but could you help me get an author tag? Thanks so much! This site is AWESOME!
MUSINGS
I had a crush on Kris Allen the first time I saw him.
No, scrap that. I fell in love with Kris Allen the first time I saw him.
People from all over say that I have a magnetic personality -- that I kind of suck people into this vortex that is me. Seriously? I think it's flattering, but "magnetic" is just a word. A word that falls flat because if I were magnetic, there are hardly any words to describe Kris Allen.
Have you seen the way his hair falls? All mussed and brown and it sticks in all directions. He says he hates it, but seriously, if I had hair like that I wouldn't even have to use half of the products I slather all over mine just to get the bed-head effect he achieves so effortlessly. It's a fall-in-your-face sort of hair, just right for grasping. I have lost count of all the times I've wished I could run my hand in them, to see my edges join with his.
Have you seen his eyes? No one should have the kind of eyes he has, because those should be licensed as a deadly weapon. He could kill with those eyes. Melt with those eyes. Charm with those eyes. Peel off all your layers, one at a time, to see the real you beneath, with those eyes. Close off the whole world between yourself and him, all with those eyes. Own you with his eyes.
Have you seen his lips? God -- smooth and soft, thin when unhappy, effusive when giddy. The smattering of stubble above it supposedly is to make him look older, but why do you need age when you've got Kris Allen's lips? I can stare at them for days, national television be damned. I swear I can almost feel the velvet of it, the suppleness. If I can touch, I am sure my hand will burn, but I will happily exchange one of my hands for the fleeting second that I could feel his lips on my skin.
Have you seen the way he walks? That subtle roll of the hip, the squaring of his shoulders -- all man, not mine. The swing is enough to suggest carnal thoughts in my brain in overdrive, and I am not even drunk. I am simply high on the slice of vibrant manhood that coalesced to shape itself into Kris Allen. There is no other shape that is as perfect, as natural.
Have you seen him sing? The way his eyes crinkle up, his nose wrinkles. The way his jaw moves slightly to the side, straining for that note. The way a few veins bulge in his neck, his music and his body battling it out for supremacy, and the way his soul wins, always wins. The way he raises his eyes after every song, an awakening to them, as if he had just come out of a trance, and realizes that he had just sung for a couple of million people. The way he looks at you, like you're the only thing that matters in this world. Like every word is yours. Like every syllable is you.
Have you seen Kris Allen, really seen him? If you see him half the way I do, then you'll understand why I fell in love with him.
And maybe you'll understand why, despite being told we shouldn't, I sneak away after every performance show and vote for him like crazy, week in and week out: a secret between my fingers and me. And I will do it, over and over again, simply because it keeps him with me, where I can observe him from the opposite island that is my bed, and where I can continue to dream about Kris -- his hair, his eyes, his lips, his hips, his song -- and the way he simply is.