SHOW A LITTLE MORE (AND A LITTLE LESS) (Part Two of Three)
SHOW A LITTLE MORE (AND A LITTLE LESS)
Author: lady_michaelis , Artist: creativmind1281 , Beta: eirana_regan
Pairing: Adam Lambert/Kris Allen
Rating: R
Genre: AU - romance, erotica
Word Count: 23,570
Warnings: Sexual situations, cross dressing, language, potentially triggering references to homophobia
Summary: For Kris, it has always a never-ending battle between the consequences of fear and the temptations of desire. The only way to forge a path to freedom is to slip on a sequined dress.
Disclaimers: Not mine, not yours, not ours, not theirs.
Notes: Inspired by Burlesque and the lovely Raja herself. As I like to say, any excuse to put Kris in a dress is a good one. Be warned that the majority of this fic discuss the dilemma of homophobia; I hope the characters put things into perspective for those who, to this day, cannot accept our gay, lesbian and transgender friends.
Much to Kris’ relief, Eber Lambert had not placed any blame upon Krista or The Red Room in lieu of the dinner party incident. He had telephoned the club and asked to speak to Kris to apologize in behalf of his son’s terrible manners. Unfortunately, Eber insisted that Adam apologize in person, which only meant that Krista would be forced to see him again. Kris dutifully put the incident behind him, immersing himself into his work and his role as Krista Allen in an attempt to avoid thinking about everything else. Though he was still having rough nights, he found himself sleeping a little better as of the late. The nightmares were no longer as terrible (sometimes, he didn’t have them at all) and Brad dutifully kept him company on the nights when he felt like he couldn’t handle it on his own. Overall, there had been a dramatic improvement in his condition, and he felt pretty proud of himself for it.
“Uhm, Krista?” Brandi poked her head into the break room. “You have a client waiting.”
“I’ll be right there,” Krista promised, slipping her feet back into her heeled pumps. “Why the weird face, Brandi? Is the client wearing ugly orange crocodile shoes?”
“No,” Brandi sighed. “He’s very easy on the eyes, actually.”
Krista frowned. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“…because it’s Adam Lambert and a giant bouquet of red roses?”
“…you’re kidding me, right?” Krista asked faintly. “His dad told me that he was going to force the brat into dragging his ass over here to apologize in person, but I didn’t think he would actually go through with it; he seems to find it so easy to disobey his parents! I mean, you saw the way he behaved during the dinner party; it was seriously unbecoming of a man his age and place in society.”
“For the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to say,” Brandi admitted. “I gaped at him for about five minutes after he asked to see you. Coco had to kick me before I remembered I needed to function. I don’t know what he’s planning; his face was a total blank slate.”
“Great,” Krista mumbled. “I just hope we don’t end up fighting like Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”
“That would actually be insanely hot,” Brandi remarked thoughtfully. “Adam Lambert ripping up your dress and fucking you on the bar? That’s a gay man’s wet dream come true.”
“Sometimes, I hate it when you get ideas,” Krista sighed. “Anyway, you’d better wish me luck; I don’t want my temper to get the best of me tonight.”
“If you’re having angry sex, I want it recorded on video!” Brandi called after her. “Oh, and good luck trying not to rip his balls off.”
Krista did a critical once-over on her reflection in the large hallway and smoothed out imaginary wrinkles in her skirt before heading out into the main area. It wasn’t difficult to spot Adam; he was seated in one of the more private booths by the bar, nursing what seemed to be an iced White Russian.
“How many has he had to drink?” She paused to hail Cook down at the bar. “Because I have no idea whether it’s safer to have a conversation with him when he’s drunk or sober.”
“He’s had a couple,” Cook replied. “Two, probably-both in ten minutes; the man seems stressed out. He’s been very quiet, so you might not kill each other. Anyway, what will you be having?”
“A Mojito, of course,” Krista grinned. “Make it three; I’m going to need to be tipsy if I want to be kind to this jerk tonight. Just send ‘em over to the booth.”
She slid into the booth and made herself comfortable in the seat across Adam, whose face was obscured by the giant bouquet of flowers that nearly took up half the table.
“Uh….hi?” she ventured. “I’m…well, I’m here. Uhm, obviously.”
“Look, I just really want to say sorry.” Adam moved the bouquet aside so she could look him in the eye. “My Dad asked me to visit to apologize in person, but I would have never come over if I didn’t feel like it. We obviously got off on the wrong foot with each other during the dinner party; I almost always lash out at people when I’m in a terrible mood. I know it’s a lame excuse, but I am sincerely sorry.”
Krista studied him critically. Adam Lambert seemed to be far less of a threat than he was when they had first crossed paths. He seemed calmer and more down-to-earth tonight with his less imposing clothes and natural makeup. Maybe she could actually give him a chance.
“We’re not going to be bosom buddies anytime soon, but okay. I forgive you.”
“Thank you.” Adam sounded relieved. “I got you some flowers, too. I don’t know you well enough-heck, I don’t know you at all-to know what would actually please you, so I got you these instead. Flowers are generic, but they’re pretty and girls like them, so yeah.”
“…you’re really trying, aren’t you?” Krista asked softly, nodding her thanks to Cook as he served up her order. “I’ve only been with The Red Room for a few weeks, but I’ve learned how to tell if men are actually being honest with you-not that anyone has ever tried to lead me on or anything.”
“Sutan’s a miracle worker,” Adam said. “This place has done so much good for all the gay boys in LA who just couldn’t seem to find their place in society. I don’t know how much he’s told you, but he led a pretty tough life himself. Winning RuPaul as Raja changed his life.”
“Sutan is amazing,” Krista agreed. “I wouldn’t have survived this long without him.”
“You’re not from here, are you?” Adam asked. “You have a distinct Southern twang.”
“I’m from Arkansas,” Krista replied icily, not wanting to dwell on the subject.
“…shit.” Realization dawned in Adam’s eyes. “Fuck, no wonder you’re here. I’m just---I just can’t---okay, I’m…I’m sorry, Miss Allen. I know how homophobic people in conservative states are; openly gay men like me might never be allowed to see the light of day.”
“Yeah, well, treatment of closeted gay men like me isn’t very different,” Krista said with a harsh laugh. “It’s one thing to have random strangers glaring at you from every which way while you try to shop for groceries. It’s another thing to have your friends and family shoot withering, disappointed glances at you just because you were born to fall in love with another man.”
Adam placed his hand over hers. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” she replied. “So am I.”
She lifted her Mojito to her lips, relishing the fresh, minty taste as the slow burn settled in her stomach. She hadn’t meant to sound bitter at all. She had taught herself how to keep in character when entertaining clients, but there was just something about Adam Lambert that pulled Kris out of the persona that was Krista. She had taught herself how to keep in character when entertaining clients.
“Do you visit regularly?” she asked him.
“When I have time, yes,” Adam replied. “Sutan and I go way back, so I bring friends here whenever I can to help with the business. You fine ladies don’t seem to need my help anymore, though. Your regulars and their friends are more than enough to keep this place going-plus, I’ve hear some clients are rather generous with their tips. Given the quality of staff Sutan keeps, I’m not surprised.”
“You sound like the type who has never come here for entertainment,” Krista remarked. “Actually, you seem like you do little for the sake of leisure. You pretend to be the childish jerk that the tabloids are painting you out to be because in reality, you’re actually quite devoted to your work. You spend endless hours on the set whining about everything just so you can make sure things are picture-perfect. It’s annoying and it makes you seem like the asshole you really aren’t, but it works for you.”
“…and you managed to figure that out how?” Adam’s brow rose in skepticism.
“Tommy,” Krista replied. “Or Tammy, whichever name you would know him better by. He taught me how to develop a backbone in this business. There are tricksters around every corner, so you have to know how to protect yourself from them. It isn’t easy, but that’s the way it is.”
“You’re like soldiers in sequined dresses,” Adam commented with a dry chuckle, ignoring the glare she sent his way as he reached for one of her Mojitos. “It’s pretty amazing, actually. The Red Room is a different dimension on its own-you could lose yourself in it.”
Krista swallowed nervously, knowing full well what he meant. In the world of The Red Room, only Krista existed. As soon as she set foot into the club, Krista was who she was and all she knew. Because of all the fun she had been having as Krista, she almost always forgot where Kris would fit in all of this.
“You’re thinking,” Adam said calmly. “You probably forgot who you are by now.”
“Don’t make assumptions!” she cried. “You don’t know me! You don’t know anything about me or my life, so just…just shut up.”
“You’re right; I don’t know you at all.” Adam rose from his seat, a sense of finality in his tone. “I don’t know who you are because you’re hiding him under all those sequins and feathers-that isn’t the way things are supposed to be. It was good meeting you, Krista; I don’t think we’ll see each other again.”
Krista turned away. For some reason, it hurt her to watch him go.
“We should go shopping today!” Brad declared. “You need some new clothes, petal.”
“I’m confused.” Kris reluctantly abandoned his omelet to stare at Brad for a good ten seconds. “Didn’t a shipment of new dresses just come in yesterday?”
“Not for work, you dumdum.” Brad stuck his tongue out at Kris. “For you! You need something else in your closet aside from the plaid monstrosities you brought from Bumfuck, Arkansas.”
“Er, I don’t think day-glo shirts and purple pants would suit me very well,” Kris wrinkled his nose. “I mean, they look nice and uhm, colorful on you, but I’d look like a total poser in them.”
“Honey, I have zero intentions of putting you in an outfit only Cheeks can rock-no offense,” Brad said delicately. “I just think you deserve tighter jeans and shirts that don’t look like your brother wore them all throughout elementary.”
“As long as I don’t have to wear anything ridiculously frilly or obscene, I think I’ll live,” Kris chuckled. “And no, I did not take offense at that; Cheeks is an entity all on his own.”
“And this is why I love you.” Brad dropped a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll just hit the showers while you make love to your omelet and brush your teeth. As soon as I’m dressed, we can go.”
Kris rolled his eyes. “Knowing you, I’m going to have an extra thirty minutes to make love to omelet number two. Don’t take too long in deciding whether you’re going to use the strawberry, lime or apple shampoo-if it helps, you used the apple yesterday.”
“Great! That leaves only two for me to choose from. You can subtract five minutes from my usual bath time. Honey bear, I would not know what to do without you.”
Kris returned to his omelet, allowing his thoughts to stray back to the night when he had met Adam Lambert for the second time. It was frightening how they had each managed to sort out the other in a matter of minutes; there was something electric about Adam and the way he easily measured Kris. His cutting observation about how Kris chose to hide under the mask that was Krista had hit a little too close to home, hence the outburst. The worst thing about the entire situation was that Kris knew he was right. Brad, Tommy and Sutan were well aware that he was having trouble, but because they were his friends, they would refuse to push him unless they felt he was ready. Adam, on the other hand, was a complete stranger who knew everything there was to know about false personas; he was an actor, after all. It was probably why he had been so guiltless about expressing his opinions that night-they weren’t friends; neither of them would have anything to lose if they fought.
What bothered Kris most about it was that it had seemed like Adam was trying to say that Kris did have something to lose. He just couldn’t figure out what.
“…what do I have to lose?” he asked himself quietly. “What did he see that even I failed to notice?”
No one was there to answer him, of course. The only sounds in the apartment were the steady stream of water from the shower and background noise from the football game he had been watching on television before breakfast. Sighing, he busied himself with his omelet, hoping Brad would hurry the hell up in the shower so he wouldn’t have to mope while eating the second omelet.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Kris practically jumped out of his seat at the sound of Tommy’s voice. He watched in amazement as Tommy yanked the window shut behind him, flipping the latch back into place for good measure.
“Brad takes forever to open doors, so I scale the gratings and haul myself up,” he said matter-of-factly as he helped himself to some of Kris’ coffee. “Also, the novelty of using windows as a leisurely means of breaking and entering rather thrills me.”
Kris giggled. “Doors are just too normal for Tommy Joe Ratliff now, huh?”
“Exactly,” Tommy nodded. “We could all use a little abnormality in our lives.”
“…Adam Lambert asked for me two nights ago at The Red Room.”
“Really now?” Tommy arched an eyebrow. “And what did he want?”
“Basically, he came in to apologize for being such a dickwad the first time we ran into each other.” Kris shrugged. “I got a giant bouquet of flowers, too.”
“You mean that thing that looks like it’s about to tip over?” Tommy jerked his head in the general direction of the living room area. “I’m surprised you were able to carry it home.”
“I wasn’t,” Kris said solemnly. “I had to borrow a wagon from the kid who lives in the apartment across The Red Room.”
“At least it’s pretty.” Tommy shrugged. “You need to own at least one pretty thing that isn’t your face. I love you and your big doe eyes and your fluffy hair, but your clothes kind of suck.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Kris said dryly. “I feel so much better now.”
“This is me building your backbone strength,” Tommy reminded him. “You’re not crumpling up in defeat right now, so I’m considering this conversation as an achievement.”
“That’s because it’s just you,” Kris sighed. “I still lack the guts to defend myself in front of strangers or people from Conway if ever I run into them again.”
“Baby steps, lover.” Tommy pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t push yourself too far.”
“Of course you let yourself in through the window again.” Brad materialized from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. “I should really have my landlord install grills to the windows.”
“Metal bars won’t drive me away from my baby Kristopher.” Tommy smirked. “I know people, Brad; dangerous weapons aren’t exactly difficult for me to acquire.”
“Which is exactly why I am never walking into your apartment without an armored suit again,” Brad huffed. “The memory of finding a shotgun under your mattress will forever be ingrained into my head.”
Tommy hopped off the kitchen counter. “Better safe than sorry, little children. Anyway, we better get our asses out of here if we want to hit Skin.Graft before the rest of LA sees the ‘FOR SALE’ sign; Cassidy stopped by yesterday to tell Jonny to save the size zeros for Kris.”
“I am not a zero!” Kris flailed.
“Not really,” Brad eyed him critically. “Maybe a two or a four.”
“In girl jeans,” Tommy added helpfully. “Kris needs women’s jeans.”
“I am going to keep my hands over my ears until we reach that store,” Kris scowled. “I’ll be so stubborn that you two will end up dragging me to a nice, sensible store like the Gap.”
“Fuck Gap,” Brad rolled his eyes. “We’re doing Skin.Graft and that’s final.”
“I need better friends,” Kris moaned, flinging a hand over his eyes as they-Tommy pulling and Brad pushing-dragged him bodily out of the apartment.
Because Kris had such terrible luck, all of his wishes (getting a flat tire, getting stuck in a traffic jam, having Brad’s hair turn green) for a detour in Brad and Tommy’s conquest to bedazzle his wardrobe went unanswered. To make matters worse, Brad cheerfully told him that Cassidy’s friend Jonny would let them look around before he opened the store to the public.
It was a sure sign of Kris’ impending doom.
“G’morning, sweetcakes.” A tall, lanky dark-haired man pressed a kiss to Brad’s cheek. “Cass told me you’d be stopping by with a fashion emergency.”
“Jonny, I’d like you to meet my pride and joy,” Brad said solemnly, tucking Kris under his arm. “This is Kris Allen. He works nights with Tommy and me at Sutan’s and is in bad need of a wardrobe that does not suffer from a terrible influx of plaid. Krissifer, this is Jonny Cota, head designer of Skin.Graft and your ultimate go-to guy if you need something amazing to wear.”
“Pleased to meet you, dollface.” Jonny grinned. “Have a look around and feel free to try on as much things as you want. There’s no one here but Adam Lambert and myself, so no one’s going to bother you.”
Kris was certain his eyes had grown to the size of saucers. “…like, Adam Lambert?”
“The one and only,” Jonny said with a laugh. “Adam is Skin.Graft’s most prominent celebrity client and image model; I’m sure you’ve seen our promotional materials that feature him.”
“He hasn’t,” Brad sighed ruefully. “He ignores all my Vogue magazines.”
“Mister Allen doesn’t need an issue of Vogue to associate a face with my name.” Adam strolled out of the dressing room area. “We’ve met before; he knows very well who I am.”
“Ooh, aren’t we touchy?” Tommy smirked teasingly. “I’ll leave you to your own devices, gentlemen; I have a few purchases of my own to make. Brad, try not to stuff Kris into anything made entirely out of sequins and peacock feathers. Such creations are more up your own alley.”
“You wait right here, cuddle puff.” Brad instructed Kris as if he was talking to a very small child. “Jonny and I are going to get you some things to try on. If you run away, I’ll know.”
“Uhm, okay?” Kris blinked. “I’ll uhm, be right here, then.”
Of course they would leave him alone with Adam Lambert. Unrepentant traitors.
“Do you think this jacket looks alright?” Adam asked him, preening a little in the full-length mirror. “Jonny has the exact same thing in liquid mercury, but I’m having trouble deciding whether I should get that or this midnight oxide one.”
“You shouldn’t take fashion advice from me, sir,” Kris said politely. “I know next to nothing about it; I’m just here because my friends think that the amount of plaid in my wardrobe is equivalent to a national emergency. As you can see, I have no sense of style at all.”
“Just give me an honest opinion.” Adam held up a silver grey jacket identical to the black one he was wearing. “Black or silver?”
“Well, the silver one looks really cool,” Kris shrugged. “And it goes well with your eyes.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Adam said agreeably, divesting himself of the black one. “I also think you should get the black one. Come; Jonny has one in your size.”
Kris reluctantly followed Adam to another corner of the store where Adam immediately began rifling through a rack of jackets before pulling out one in a smaller size for Kris to try on.
“Arms up now,” he ordered. “Always get your jackets one or two sizes bigger than your regular shirt size, but never go beyond that; baggy is not the new black. Ah, this one hugs your body quite nicely-it’s tight yet not too tight and you don’t look like you’re drowning in it.”
“I’ve never owned anything with feathers at the sleeves before,” Kris protested. “Also, I can’t afford this! It isn’t on sale and I doubt Mister Cota will just let me walk out of the shop with it.”
“I’m the brand ambassador, Kris,” Adam reminded him. “Consider it a gift.”
“But I couldn’t!” Kris flailed. “I’d feel like I’m taking something away from you and I just know I’m going to end up feeling guilty about it for the rest of my life.”
“Chill, sweetheart.” Adam gripped Kris’ biceps, holding him still. “You’re not taking anything away from me by accepting a gift; you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. As far as I remember, you had a lot more fire in you the last time we met.”
“…that’s Krista,” Kris mumbled, prying himself out of Adam’s grasp. “That’s not me.”
“But you’re the same person, aren’t you?” Adam arched an eyebrow. “Just because you put on a dress and a wig at night doesn’t mean you transform into someone else.”
“Look, you don’t understand, okay?” Kris snapped. “You don’t and you never will.”
Adam crossed his arms over his chest. “Try me.”
“Why are you so insistent, anyway?” Kris glared at him. “You said you never wanted to speak to me again, remember? You sounded pretty sure of that, too.”
“I meant that I wasn’t going to speak to you again on the occasions that you have your walls up,” Adam said evenly. “I like you like this; you’re prone to short bursts of anger and sudden moments of depression. I know I’m assuming way too much, but seeing you like this makes me feel like I’ve cracked that shell you build around yourself when you assume the role of Krista.”
Kris stumbled as he took a step backward, suddenly afraid to be in Adam’s breathing space. “…you-you have no idea what you’re saying. If you know what kind of person I really am, you’d stay away from me. You’d hate me as much as they do-probably even more.”
“Who are they, Kris?” Adam asked softly, reaching out to him.
Brad came traipsing back into the main room. “Kris! I found some things for you to try on. There are kind of a lot and you might want to kill me, but I promise you they’re all amazing!”
Relieved by the distraction, Kris bade Adam a hasty goodbye before ducking into the dressing room area with his friends, confident that Adam would be unable to follow him in there.
“Are you alright, precious?” Tommy asked. “You look a little shaken up.”
“It’s nothing,” Kris lied. “I was just a little overwhelmed at running into Adam Lambert again.”
“Did he say something, petal?” Brad asked anxiously. “Because you don’t look too hot right now. If he said anything that hurt you or scared you, I’m going to run back out there and kill him.”
“Brad, please,” Kris placated him. “It’s alright; I’m alright. He didn’t hurt me. He just said a few things that got me thinking, that’s all.”
“He’s pushing you,” Tommy observed. “I think this is actually good for you, Kris-provided he doesn’t push the boundaries, of course. Maybe you should see him more often.”
“Tommy, I don’t even have his number!” Kris threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. “The fact that we ran into each other today is simply a coincidence; I don’t think we’re going to see each other again unless he walks into the club and asks for me.”
“Which is totally possible,” Tommy finished for him. “I saw the way he was looking at you, Kris. Some men enjoy puzzles they can’t quite solve-I have a feeling he’s going to come for you.”
“Can we just not talk about him for awhile?” Kris sighed. “I’ll try on whatever you want me to try on without complaint as long as we leave the Adam Lambert topic alone.”
“Yay!” Brad perked up, extracting a pair of stonewashed jeans from the alarmingly large pile of clothing he had brought in. “Try these on first; I picked them out especially for you.”
Kris sighed and resigned himself to his fate. Knowing his luck, Brad would force him to try on everything even if they would only go home with half of whatever it was that tickled his fancy. Before they left, Jonny wordlessly pressed a carefully wrapped parcel into his hands. Kris didn’t have to tear the package open to know it was the soft leather jacket Adam had insisted on purchasing for him. Later that evening, Kris finally allowed himself to divest the jacket of its wrappings so he could hang it in his closet. Adam had been clever and cruel enough to leave a cryptic note with it:
Take it. Don’t be a stranger.
- A. Lambert
Krista was relieved that things in the club had gone relatively slow that night. She had volunteered for the closing shift since she needed the extra hours due to the hole their shopping spree had burned into her pocket, so she was pretty much the lone soul left in the club. Tommy had volunteered to stay and help as soon as he had changed out of his Tammy ensemble, but Krista had shooed him away after she promised him she would be home as soon as she locked up the club. Cook had stayed behind to clean up the bar, but he had left her to her own devices about half an hour ago. Krista loved her friends dearly, but it was nice to be alone with her thoughts for once. Her only problem about living with Brad was that she rarely had moments to herself unless she was in the shower or about to fall asleep. She had a lot on her mind right now, and the only way for her to clear her head was to be by herself for a little while. Fortunately, busying herself with clean-up duties had taken her mind off the clutter in her head.
“I guess that takes care of things,” she remarked, toeing off her stilettos. “I’d better change and head home; Tommy’s going to have a cow if I don’t make it back before the witching hour.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a loud rapping sound on the glass paneled door by the ticket booth. Much to her chagrin, Adam Lambert was standing there, looking terribly inebriated.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she hissed as she threw open the door. “Anyone could see you standing out here! Do you want your face plastered all over TMZ tomorrow night?”
“It’s not like I give a fuck,” Adam flipped her off, moving past her to make himself comfortable in one of the booths. “Charlie Sheen’s fuckery is more important than mine, anyway.”
“You need to get your ass home, mister,” Krista scowled. “It’s nearly three in the morning and The Red Room is already closed. I need to go home right now, so I can’t stay and babysit you.”
“Fuck you,” Adam retorted drunkenly. “You’re the reason why I went past my consumption limit in the first place, Kristopher Allen. You’re like this annoying itch that just refuses to go away.”
“Why do I matter so much to you, anyway?” Krista demanded. “I’m no one in your life and nothing next to you. Why won’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”
Adam’s gaze was predatory. “Because I want you.”
“No, you don’t,” Krista said quietly. “You’re just fascinated by me because I’m a puzzle you can’t piece together. It’s not that complicated, Mister Lambert; I’m just a scared queer in the closet unable to come out because I can’t bring myself to forget the nasty things people from home said to me. I came to work here after I saw how confident and comfortable Brad and the others are in their own skin. Assuming the identity of Krista is my only refuge from the reality I’m too scared to face, so I’m going to hide under these clothes for as long as I can. Now that I’m done explaining, will you please leave?”
“I’m not leaving.” Adam shook his head. “Not when I finally have the real Kris Allen in front of me.”
“…what are you talking about?” Krista frowned. “I’m still in drag, in case you’re too drunk to notice. Just because I told you my story doesn’t mean you earn a place in my life.”
“You’re angry, scared and fucking horny,” Adam breathed, advancing towards Krista. “Even if you’re wearing a disguise, the emotions coursing through your body are purely Kris’. You’re scared of outing yourself because of what happened to you, but you can’t help but want someone to manhandle you, anyway. You want to be cared for, you want to be loved…you want to be fucked.”
Kris whimpered as Adam backed him up towards the bar counter, the press of his muscled body a welcome warmth against Kris’ own. Adam slid his leg in between Kris’ thighs, hiking up his dress in the process. His palms were hot and rough against the sensitive skin around Kris’ hips, and Kris found himself arching into the sinful touch.
“I’ve wanted you since the day we met,” Adam panted harshly into his ear. “You were so fucking feisty, so full of anger; it gave me chills. But do you know what truly killed me, Kris? It was the haunted look in your eyes-they spoke volumes of what your body refused to express. That look deserves no place on a face that is meant to be beautiful and happy.”
“…you’re killing me,” Kris whispered.
He let Adam turn him over and press his chest down on the wooden surface, holding him down with a firm grip while fumbling for something in his coat with his free hand.
“It never hurts to be prepared.” Adam set a packet of lubricant and a foil-wrapped condom down on the counter. “I’ve always been prone to random acts of debauchery, so I’m never short on supplies.”
“I’m probably the first guy who let you fuck him even if he hated you,” Kris said with a breathless chuckle. “Be gentle, though, okay? I’ve…never really had anything in my ass before.”
“…fuck,” Adam groaned. “You’ve never even fingered yourself open before?”
“I was too scared,” Kris admitted. “If my parents-or anyone around me, for that matter-caught me exhibiting any form of gay sexual behavior…well, you can guess what could have happened.”
“Oh, baby.” Adam’s voice was soft and soothing. “Of course you couldn’t---I should have remembered that. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”
Kris twisted his neck a bit to look Adam in the eye. “Don’t make promises you’re not going to fulfill. A big part of me may be shit scared and insanely embarrassed because my sexual experience is limited to jacking off, but there’s this small part inside that wants this so bad.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Adam growled, bringing his hand down on Kris’ ass. “They just don’t make ‘em like this in LA anymore; perhaps I’ve been fishing in the wrong pool all this time.”
Kris bit his lip as Adam’s hand crawled underneath his dress to rip his stockings and lace thong open, exposing his ass to the cold air.
“For the record, this is probably the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever chanced upon in my entire life.” Adam sounded awed, running his thumb down Kris’ crack. “Seriously, babe; I could arrange for a photoshoot with my pal Lee. We could have you sprawled out naked on my faux fur rug at home.”
“Are you seriously like this with all the guys you’ve fucked?” Kris glared at him.
Adam shook his head. “Not all of them had perfect bubble butts. Now, let’s get on with the prepping, shall we? I can assure you that we are both going to get insanely lucky tonight.”
As Adam went about with the necessary preparations, Kris found himself lost in his own thoughts again. Was he really going to spread his legs for some man he believed he hated? Given the description of his situation, it would be most appropriate to pull down his dress and hightail it out of there. However, he had always been a firm believer in the idea that desire surpassed all forms of logical thinking. When people wanted something, they would prefer to succumb to pleasure before even dreaming of the consequences their choices would entail.
“This is going to feel rather uncomfortable,” Adam warned him, pressing the flat of his thumb against Kris’ sphincter. “We’re going to start slow, but you have to tell me what it is that you want.”
“But what if I don’t know what I want?”
Adam pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “We’ll figure that out soon enough.”
Kris’ breath hitched in his throat as he felt the tip of Adam’s finger breach the tight ring of muscle. It felt odd and certainly uncomfortable, but not necessarily painful. He wiggled his ass a little, trying to get used to the feeling of being penetrated.
“Kris, baby, no.” Adam stilled him. “If you move around too much, that’s going to be too tempting for me. Hold still so I can open you up properly, alright?”
“Such a gentleman,” Kris grumbled. “It feels funny, though. Like there’s something missing.”
“That’s because one finger isn’t enough to cause any real sensation down here,” Adam explained. “I’m going to press in with two now; tell me if it hurts.”
Kris nodded. He couldn’t resist squirming a little as he tried to accustom himself to the girth of Adam’s fingers. He knew very well that taking Adam’s cock would prove to be a very different experience; the idea terrified him a little, in all honesty. As if sensing his discomfort, Adam began to scissor him open in an attempt to relax his muscles. Kris bit his lip as Adam pressed in further; from the way he was poking and reaching in, it was as if he was in search of something.
“…Jesus, Adam,” he exhaled. “How far in are you trying to-oh, fuck.”
He arched off the counter when he felt a puzzling current surge through his body. It was a strange, alien pleasure; Kris had never felt anything quite like it before.
“I got it, didn’t I?” Adam sounded triumphant. “That was your prostate, baby; you’re going to feel just that good when I finally get my cock in you. God, you make the prettiest little sounds, too.”
Kris moaned loudly when Adam pushed in with three fingers, finally feeling the sting of being penetrated. Adam was angling his thrusts in such a way that he hit Kris’ prostate each time he pushed in, making Kris mewl like a kitten. If someone were to peek through the club’s large glass windows, they would have no trouble seeing him sprawled out on the bar with Adam Lambert’s fingers in his ass. The thought of being caught in the act thrilled and embarrassed him at the same time; it surprised him greatly because he had never allowed himself to explore his sexuality before.
“Fuck me, please!” he begged Adam, panting harshly in time with his thrusts. “…I want-I want to feel your cock inside me when I come.”
“I’m gonna make it so good for you, baby,” Adam promised, withdrawing his fingers from Kris’ ass. “But first, you gotta get the condom on me. My hands are slippery, so you’ll have to take care of this.”
Kris figured it was the perfect opportunity to wipe the smirk off Adam’s face. He rolled over from underneath Adam and wrapped his legs around Adam’s waist, never once taking his eyes off him as he tore the foil wrapper open with his teeth.
“I love it when you let your inner animal go wild,” Adam said with a grin, pulling Kris’ stockings down. “Jesus, you should see yourself right now. I feel so fucking hot because I know I was the one who made you look this debauched.”
“You gotta fuck me hard if you want to make me scream.” Kris winked at him before busying himself with unbuckling Adam’s belt. “That’s just the kind of toppy bastard you are, aren’t you? You want to make your little toys feel like you own them because you’re such a control freak. Well, let me issue a warning of my own as early as now, Adam Lambert-I’m not like those pretty boys who willingly sink to their knees for you; I’ll let you top me, but I’ll fuck you as hard as you fuck me.”
A soft whine escaped his throat when he finally succeeded in ridding Adam of his belt. It hardly surprised Kris that he went commando and was noticeably more hung than what was probably legal, but the realization that he was finally holding another’s man’s cock slammed into him like a bullet to his brain. Fascinated, he curled his fist around Adam’s cock and stroked him gently, trembling a little when he felt Adam arch into his touch.
“…am I doing this right?” he asked softly.
“God, yes!” Adam growled. “But if you don’t stop touching me, you’ll have to get me up and hard again before I can fuck you-and I know that greedy little hole is aching to be fucked.”
Swallowing nervously, Kris rolled the latex over Adam’s cock, slicking it up with the lube when the condom was nice and snug around it. Adam gave his cock one last stroke-for good luck, perhaps-before pulling Kris’ legs further apart, positioning himself in the space between them.
“Okay?” he asked breathlessly. “This is your last chance to say no.”
“Give it to me,” Kris breathed, spreading himself open with his hands. “I want you to fuck me so hard that I won’t be able to feel anything but you for days.”
Adam chuckled, pressing the tip of his cock against Kris’ opening. “You’re crazy, do you know that? I’ve had boys beg for my cock before, but none of ‘em did it like you do.”
Kris moaned as he felt the head of Adam’s cock push into him, stretching him almost impossibly wide. Adam kept a hand on his chest, preventing Kris from pushing upwards as he guided himself into Kris’ willing body. He bit his lip and whimpered softly when he felt Adam’s crotch brush against his ass, indicating that he was fully sheathed inside him.
“You’re so big,” he muttered. “Fuck, Adam; I feel like I’m burning from the inside…”
“It’ll get better soon, baby,” Adam crooned, petting his hair. “You’re going to have to set the pace for this so I won’t end up hurting you. When the pain subsides, tell me so I can move.”
“It doesn’t really hurt that much,” Kris admitted. “I just feel really full, and it’s odd because I’m not used to it at all. Maybe I should have chanced upon a vibrator once upon a time, huh?”
“Don’t fret over small things,” Adam snorted. “Believe me; nothing gets a toppy bastard like me going more than knowing he’s about to fuck an honest-to-goodness virgin boy.”
“But I won’t know what to do,” Kris protested. “I won’t know how to-oh god, Adam!”
“That’s all you need to know,” Adam smirked, pulling out halfway to slowly slide into Kris again. “All you need to do is let your inner slut take over and make pretty noises while I fuck you.”
“That, uhm, sounds easy enough,” Kris said with an experimental wiggle of his hips. “Fuck, you need to do what you just did again.”
“Ahhhhhh, I see you’re the insatiable type,” Adam purred. “This will work nicely in our favor.”
Kris did not complain when he felt Adam hike his legs up even further, bending him like the men at Auntie Anne’s would their pretzels. He steadied himself by gripping Adam’s arms, allowing loud, breathy moans to escape his throat as Adam fucked him into the counter. Each thrust was a new experience; Kris felt like Adam was touching and sensitizing the nerves in his body he didn’t even know he had.
“Fuck, Adam!” he cried. “Harder, please! I want-no, I need it to hurt…”
“No can do, baby,” Adam whispered in his ear. “I would never hurt you.”
Kris shivered in Adam’s grasp, fully aware that he was nearing his peak. He clenched his hole around Adam’s cock, pleased to find out that such a small gesture could make Adam groan.
“You’re such a fucking cocktease,” he hissed, gripping Kris’ cock tightly. “And because you’re such a good boy, I’m going to help you come just this once---the next time we do it, you’re going to come because I’m balls deep in your delectable little ass.”
“Please, oh, please…” Kris murmured. “Make me come, Adam!”
Adam bent over him, bringing him to orgasm with quick, shallow thrusts. Kris cried loudly as he came, Adam jerking him dry all over his expensive white shirt. He lay there in a boneless haze as Adam continued to thrust into him, body finally going slack as he emptied himself into the condom. It was an indeterminate amount of time later when Adam eased himself out and tossed the condom into an empty trash bin behind the bar, zipping himself up afterwards. Kris bit his lip and shyly turned away as Adam wiped him down with some tissues, pulling his dress back down before helping him stand.
“I’m sorry about your panties,” Adam said with a grimace. “When I get too excited, I rip things apart-this was why they never let me play with certain toys when I was little.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Kris assured him. “I have plenty more where that came from.”
Sensing the end of the conversation, Kris motioned for Adam to follow him to the door so he could finish locking up. As soon as he slipped the keys back into his purse, Adam curled a hand around his wrist, eyes blazing with the same fire that was there when he had first backed Kris against the counter.
“Come home with me,” he said softly. “I want to see Kris.”
Kris sighed as Adam pressed their lips together. He couldn’t help but suppress the shiver that traveled down his spine as Adam pulled the long, tangled wig off his head.
“Hush,” Adam whispered against his lips. “I won’t hurt you, baby…I promise.”
(PART THREE)
Author: lady_michaelis , Artist: creativmind1281 , Beta: eirana_regan
Pairing: Adam Lambert/Kris Allen
Rating: R
Genre: AU - romance, erotica
Word Count: 23,570
Warnings: Sexual situations, cross dressing, language, potentially triggering references to homophobia
Summary: For Kris, it has always a never-ending battle between the consequences of fear and the temptations of desire. The only way to forge a path to freedom is to slip on a sequined dress.
Disclaimers: Not mine, not yours, not ours, not theirs.
Notes: Inspired by Burlesque and the lovely Raja herself. As I like to say, any excuse to put Kris in a dress is a good one. Be warned that the majority of this fic discuss the dilemma of homophobia; I hope the characters put things into perspective for those who, to this day, cannot accept our gay, lesbian and transgender friends.
Much to Kris’ relief, Eber Lambert had not placed any blame upon Krista or The Red Room in lieu of the dinner party incident. He had telephoned the club and asked to speak to Kris to apologize in behalf of his son’s terrible manners. Unfortunately, Eber insisted that Adam apologize in person, which only meant that Krista would be forced to see him again. Kris dutifully put the incident behind him, immersing himself into his work and his role as Krista Allen in an attempt to avoid thinking about everything else. Though he was still having rough nights, he found himself sleeping a little better as of the late. The nightmares were no longer as terrible (sometimes, he didn’t have them at all) and Brad dutifully kept him company on the nights when he felt like he couldn’t handle it on his own. Overall, there had been a dramatic improvement in his condition, and he felt pretty proud of himself for it.
“Uhm, Krista?” Brandi poked her head into the break room. “You have a client waiting.”
“I’ll be right there,” Krista promised, slipping her feet back into her heeled pumps. “Why the weird face, Brandi? Is the client wearing ugly orange crocodile shoes?”
“No,” Brandi sighed. “He’s very easy on the eyes, actually.”
Krista frowned. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“…because it’s Adam Lambert and a giant bouquet of red roses?”
“…you’re kidding me, right?” Krista asked faintly. “His dad told me that he was going to force the brat into dragging his ass over here to apologize in person, but I didn’t think he would actually go through with it; he seems to find it so easy to disobey his parents! I mean, you saw the way he behaved during the dinner party; it was seriously unbecoming of a man his age and place in society.”
“For the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to say,” Brandi admitted. “I gaped at him for about five minutes after he asked to see you. Coco had to kick me before I remembered I needed to function. I don’t know what he’s planning; his face was a total blank slate.”
“Great,” Krista mumbled. “I just hope we don’t end up fighting like Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”
“That would actually be insanely hot,” Brandi remarked thoughtfully. “Adam Lambert ripping up your dress and fucking you on the bar? That’s a gay man’s wet dream come true.”
“Sometimes, I hate it when you get ideas,” Krista sighed. “Anyway, you’d better wish me luck; I don’t want my temper to get the best of me tonight.”
“If you’re having angry sex, I want it recorded on video!” Brandi called after her. “Oh, and good luck trying not to rip his balls off.”
Krista did a critical once-over on her reflection in the large hallway and smoothed out imaginary wrinkles in her skirt before heading out into the main area. It wasn’t difficult to spot Adam; he was seated in one of the more private booths by the bar, nursing what seemed to be an iced White Russian.
“How many has he had to drink?” She paused to hail Cook down at the bar. “Because I have no idea whether it’s safer to have a conversation with him when he’s drunk or sober.”
“He’s had a couple,” Cook replied. “Two, probably-both in ten minutes; the man seems stressed out. He’s been very quiet, so you might not kill each other. Anyway, what will you be having?”
“A Mojito, of course,” Krista grinned. “Make it three; I’m going to need to be tipsy if I want to be kind to this jerk tonight. Just send ‘em over to the booth.”
She slid into the booth and made herself comfortable in the seat across Adam, whose face was obscured by the giant bouquet of flowers that nearly took up half the table.
“Uh….hi?” she ventured. “I’m…well, I’m here. Uhm, obviously.”
“Look, I just really want to say sorry.” Adam moved the bouquet aside so she could look him in the eye. “My Dad asked me to visit to apologize in person, but I would have never come over if I didn’t feel like it. We obviously got off on the wrong foot with each other during the dinner party; I almost always lash out at people when I’m in a terrible mood. I know it’s a lame excuse, but I am sincerely sorry.”
Krista studied him critically. Adam Lambert seemed to be far less of a threat than he was when they had first crossed paths. He seemed calmer and more down-to-earth tonight with his less imposing clothes and natural makeup. Maybe she could actually give him a chance.
“We’re not going to be bosom buddies anytime soon, but okay. I forgive you.”
“Thank you.” Adam sounded relieved. “I got you some flowers, too. I don’t know you well enough-heck, I don’t know you at all-to know what would actually please you, so I got you these instead. Flowers are generic, but they’re pretty and girls like them, so yeah.”
“…you’re really trying, aren’t you?” Krista asked softly, nodding her thanks to Cook as he served up her order. “I’ve only been with The Red Room for a few weeks, but I’ve learned how to tell if men are actually being honest with you-not that anyone has ever tried to lead me on or anything.”
“Sutan’s a miracle worker,” Adam said. “This place has done so much good for all the gay boys in LA who just couldn’t seem to find their place in society. I don’t know how much he’s told you, but he led a pretty tough life himself. Winning RuPaul as Raja changed his life.”
“Sutan is amazing,” Krista agreed. “I wouldn’t have survived this long without him.”
“You’re not from here, are you?” Adam asked. “You have a distinct Southern twang.”
“I’m from Arkansas,” Krista replied icily, not wanting to dwell on the subject.
“…shit.” Realization dawned in Adam’s eyes. “Fuck, no wonder you’re here. I’m just---I just can’t---okay, I’m…I’m sorry, Miss Allen. I know how homophobic people in conservative states are; openly gay men like me might never be allowed to see the light of day.”
“Yeah, well, treatment of closeted gay men like me isn’t very different,” Krista said with a harsh laugh. “It’s one thing to have random strangers glaring at you from every which way while you try to shop for groceries. It’s another thing to have your friends and family shoot withering, disappointed glances at you just because you were born to fall in love with another man.”
Adam placed his hand over hers. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” she replied. “So am I.”
She lifted her Mojito to her lips, relishing the fresh, minty taste as the slow burn settled in her stomach. She hadn’t meant to sound bitter at all. She had taught herself how to keep in character when entertaining clients, but there was just something about Adam Lambert that pulled Kris out of the persona that was Krista. She had taught herself how to keep in character when entertaining clients.
“Do you visit regularly?” she asked him.
“When I have time, yes,” Adam replied. “Sutan and I go way back, so I bring friends here whenever I can to help with the business. You fine ladies don’t seem to need my help anymore, though. Your regulars and their friends are more than enough to keep this place going-plus, I’ve hear some clients are rather generous with their tips. Given the quality of staff Sutan keeps, I’m not surprised.”
“You sound like the type who has never come here for entertainment,” Krista remarked. “Actually, you seem like you do little for the sake of leisure. You pretend to be the childish jerk that the tabloids are painting you out to be because in reality, you’re actually quite devoted to your work. You spend endless hours on the set whining about everything just so you can make sure things are picture-perfect. It’s annoying and it makes you seem like the asshole you really aren’t, but it works for you.”
“…and you managed to figure that out how?” Adam’s brow rose in skepticism.
“Tommy,” Krista replied. “Or Tammy, whichever name you would know him better by. He taught me how to develop a backbone in this business. There are tricksters around every corner, so you have to know how to protect yourself from them. It isn’t easy, but that’s the way it is.”
“You’re like soldiers in sequined dresses,” Adam commented with a dry chuckle, ignoring the glare she sent his way as he reached for one of her Mojitos. “It’s pretty amazing, actually. The Red Room is a different dimension on its own-you could lose yourself in it.”
Krista swallowed nervously, knowing full well what he meant. In the world of The Red Room, only Krista existed. As soon as she set foot into the club, Krista was who she was and all she knew. Because of all the fun she had been having as Krista, she almost always forgot where Kris would fit in all of this.
“You’re thinking,” Adam said calmly. “You probably forgot who you are by now.”
“Don’t make assumptions!” she cried. “You don’t know me! You don’t know anything about me or my life, so just…just shut up.”
“You’re right; I don’t know you at all.” Adam rose from his seat, a sense of finality in his tone. “I don’t know who you are because you’re hiding him under all those sequins and feathers-that isn’t the way things are supposed to be. It was good meeting you, Krista; I don’t think we’ll see each other again.”
Krista turned away. For some reason, it hurt her to watch him go.
“We should go shopping today!” Brad declared. “You need some new clothes, petal.”
“I’m confused.” Kris reluctantly abandoned his omelet to stare at Brad for a good ten seconds. “Didn’t a shipment of new dresses just come in yesterday?”
“Not for work, you dumdum.” Brad stuck his tongue out at Kris. “For you! You need something else in your closet aside from the plaid monstrosities you brought from Bumfuck, Arkansas.”
“Er, I don’t think day-glo shirts and purple pants would suit me very well,” Kris wrinkled his nose. “I mean, they look nice and uhm, colorful on you, but I’d look like a total poser in them.”
“Honey, I have zero intentions of putting you in an outfit only Cheeks can rock-no offense,” Brad said delicately. “I just think you deserve tighter jeans and shirts that don’t look like your brother wore them all throughout elementary.”
“As long as I don’t have to wear anything ridiculously frilly or obscene, I think I’ll live,” Kris chuckled. “And no, I did not take offense at that; Cheeks is an entity all on his own.”
“And this is why I love you.” Brad dropped a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll just hit the showers while you make love to your omelet and brush your teeth. As soon as I’m dressed, we can go.”
Kris rolled his eyes. “Knowing you, I’m going to have an extra thirty minutes to make love to omelet number two. Don’t take too long in deciding whether you’re going to use the strawberry, lime or apple shampoo-if it helps, you used the apple yesterday.”
“Great! That leaves only two for me to choose from. You can subtract five minutes from my usual bath time. Honey bear, I would not know what to do without you.”
Kris returned to his omelet, allowing his thoughts to stray back to the night when he had met Adam Lambert for the second time. It was frightening how they had each managed to sort out the other in a matter of minutes; there was something electric about Adam and the way he easily measured Kris. His cutting observation about how Kris chose to hide under the mask that was Krista had hit a little too close to home, hence the outburst. The worst thing about the entire situation was that Kris knew he was right. Brad, Tommy and Sutan were well aware that he was having trouble, but because they were his friends, they would refuse to push him unless they felt he was ready. Adam, on the other hand, was a complete stranger who knew everything there was to know about false personas; he was an actor, after all. It was probably why he had been so guiltless about expressing his opinions that night-they weren’t friends; neither of them would have anything to lose if they fought.
What bothered Kris most about it was that it had seemed like Adam was trying to say that Kris did have something to lose. He just couldn’t figure out what.
“…what do I have to lose?” he asked himself quietly. “What did he see that even I failed to notice?”
No one was there to answer him, of course. The only sounds in the apartment were the steady stream of water from the shower and background noise from the football game he had been watching on television before breakfast. Sighing, he busied himself with his omelet, hoping Brad would hurry the hell up in the shower so he wouldn’t have to mope while eating the second omelet.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Kris practically jumped out of his seat at the sound of Tommy’s voice. He watched in amazement as Tommy yanked the window shut behind him, flipping the latch back into place for good measure.
“Brad takes forever to open doors, so I scale the gratings and haul myself up,” he said matter-of-factly as he helped himself to some of Kris’ coffee. “Also, the novelty of using windows as a leisurely means of breaking and entering rather thrills me.”
Kris giggled. “Doors are just too normal for Tommy Joe Ratliff now, huh?”
“Exactly,” Tommy nodded. “We could all use a little abnormality in our lives.”
“…Adam Lambert asked for me two nights ago at The Red Room.”
“Really now?” Tommy arched an eyebrow. “And what did he want?”
“Basically, he came in to apologize for being such a dickwad the first time we ran into each other.” Kris shrugged. “I got a giant bouquet of flowers, too.”
“You mean that thing that looks like it’s about to tip over?” Tommy jerked his head in the general direction of the living room area. “I’m surprised you were able to carry it home.”
“I wasn’t,” Kris said solemnly. “I had to borrow a wagon from the kid who lives in the apartment across The Red Room.”
“At least it’s pretty.” Tommy shrugged. “You need to own at least one pretty thing that isn’t your face. I love you and your big doe eyes and your fluffy hair, but your clothes kind of suck.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Kris said dryly. “I feel so much better now.”
“This is me building your backbone strength,” Tommy reminded him. “You’re not crumpling up in defeat right now, so I’m considering this conversation as an achievement.”
“That’s because it’s just you,” Kris sighed. “I still lack the guts to defend myself in front of strangers or people from Conway if ever I run into them again.”
“Baby steps, lover.” Tommy pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t push yourself too far.”
“Of course you let yourself in through the window again.” Brad materialized from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. “I should really have my landlord install grills to the windows.”
“Metal bars won’t drive me away from my baby Kristopher.” Tommy smirked. “I know people, Brad; dangerous weapons aren’t exactly difficult for me to acquire.”
“Which is exactly why I am never walking into your apartment without an armored suit again,” Brad huffed. “The memory of finding a shotgun under your mattress will forever be ingrained into my head.”
Tommy hopped off the kitchen counter. “Better safe than sorry, little children. Anyway, we better get our asses out of here if we want to hit Skin.Graft before the rest of LA sees the ‘FOR SALE’ sign; Cassidy stopped by yesterday to tell Jonny to save the size zeros for Kris.”
“I am not a zero!” Kris flailed.
“Not really,” Brad eyed him critically. “Maybe a two or a four.”
“In girl jeans,” Tommy added helpfully. “Kris needs women’s jeans.”
“I am going to keep my hands over my ears until we reach that store,” Kris scowled. “I’ll be so stubborn that you two will end up dragging me to a nice, sensible store like the Gap.”
“Fuck Gap,” Brad rolled his eyes. “We’re doing Skin.Graft and that’s final.”
“I need better friends,” Kris moaned, flinging a hand over his eyes as they-Tommy pulling and Brad pushing-dragged him bodily out of the apartment.
Because Kris had such terrible luck, all of his wishes (getting a flat tire, getting stuck in a traffic jam, having Brad’s hair turn green) for a detour in Brad and Tommy’s conquest to bedazzle his wardrobe went unanswered. To make matters worse, Brad cheerfully told him that Cassidy’s friend Jonny would let them look around before he opened the store to the public.
It was a sure sign of Kris’ impending doom.
“G’morning, sweetcakes.” A tall, lanky dark-haired man pressed a kiss to Brad’s cheek. “Cass told me you’d be stopping by with a fashion emergency.”
“Jonny, I’d like you to meet my pride and joy,” Brad said solemnly, tucking Kris under his arm. “This is Kris Allen. He works nights with Tommy and me at Sutan’s and is in bad need of a wardrobe that does not suffer from a terrible influx of plaid. Krissifer, this is Jonny Cota, head designer of Skin.Graft and your ultimate go-to guy if you need something amazing to wear.”
“Pleased to meet you, dollface.” Jonny grinned. “Have a look around and feel free to try on as much things as you want. There’s no one here but Adam Lambert and myself, so no one’s going to bother you.”
Kris was certain his eyes had grown to the size of saucers. “…like, Adam Lambert?”
“The one and only,” Jonny said with a laugh. “Adam is Skin.Graft’s most prominent celebrity client and image model; I’m sure you’ve seen our promotional materials that feature him.”
“He hasn’t,” Brad sighed ruefully. “He ignores all my Vogue magazines.”
“Mister Allen doesn’t need an issue of Vogue to associate a face with my name.” Adam strolled out of the dressing room area. “We’ve met before; he knows very well who I am.”
“Ooh, aren’t we touchy?” Tommy smirked teasingly. “I’ll leave you to your own devices, gentlemen; I have a few purchases of my own to make. Brad, try not to stuff Kris into anything made entirely out of sequins and peacock feathers. Such creations are more up your own alley.”
“You wait right here, cuddle puff.” Brad instructed Kris as if he was talking to a very small child. “Jonny and I are going to get you some things to try on. If you run away, I’ll know.”
“Uhm, okay?” Kris blinked. “I’ll uhm, be right here, then.”
Of course they would leave him alone with Adam Lambert. Unrepentant traitors.
“Do you think this jacket looks alright?” Adam asked him, preening a little in the full-length mirror. “Jonny has the exact same thing in liquid mercury, but I’m having trouble deciding whether I should get that or this midnight oxide one.”
“You shouldn’t take fashion advice from me, sir,” Kris said politely. “I know next to nothing about it; I’m just here because my friends think that the amount of plaid in my wardrobe is equivalent to a national emergency. As you can see, I have no sense of style at all.”
“Just give me an honest opinion.” Adam held up a silver grey jacket identical to the black one he was wearing. “Black or silver?”
“Well, the silver one looks really cool,” Kris shrugged. “And it goes well with your eyes.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Adam said agreeably, divesting himself of the black one. “I also think you should get the black one. Come; Jonny has one in your size.”
Kris reluctantly followed Adam to another corner of the store where Adam immediately began rifling through a rack of jackets before pulling out one in a smaller size for Kris to try on.
“Arms up now,” he ordered. “Always get your jackets one or two sizes bigger than your regular shirt size, but never go beyond that; baggy is not the new black. Ah, this one hugs your body quite nicely-it’s tight yet not too tight and you don’t look like you’re drowning in it.”
“I’ve never owned anything with feathers at the sleeves before,” Kris protested. “Also, I can’t afford this! It isn’t on sale and I doubt Mister Cota will just let me walk out of the shop with it.”
“I’m the brand ambassador, Kris,” Adam reminded him. “Consider it a gift.”
“But I couldn’t!” Kris flailed. “I’d feel like I’m taking something away from you and I just know I’m going to end up feeling guilty about it for the rest of my life.”
“Chill, sweetheart.” Adam gripped Kris’ biceps, holding him still. “You’re not taking anything away from me by accepting a gift; you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. As far as I remember, you had a lot more fire in you the last time we met.”
“…that’s Krista,” Kris mumbled, prying himself out of Adam’s grasp. “That’s not me.”
“But you’re the same person, aren’t you?” Adam arched an eyebrow. “Just because you put on a dress and a wig at night doesn’t mean you transform into someone else.”
“Look, you don’t understand, okay?” Kris snapped. “You don’t and you never will.”
Adam crossed his arms over his chest. “Try me.”
“Why are you so insistent, anyway?” Kris glared at him. “You said you never wanted to speak to me again, remember? You sounded pretty sure of that, too.”
“I meant that I wasn’t going to speak to you again on the occasions that you have your walls up,” Adam said evenly. “I like you like this; you’re prone to short bursts of anger and sudden moments of depression. I know I’m assuming way too much, but seeing you like this makes me feel like I’ve cracked that shell you build around yourself when you assume the role of Krista.”
Kris stumbled as he took a step backward, suddenly afraid to be in Adam’s breathing space. “…you-you have no idea what you’re saying. If you know what kind of person I really am, you’d stay away from me. You’d hate me as much as they do-probably even more.”
“Who are they, Kris?” Adam asked softly, reaching out to him.
Brad came traipsing back into the main room. “Kris! I found some things for you to try on. There are kind of a lot and you might want to kill me, but I promise you they’re all amazing!”
Relieved by the distraction, Kris bade Adam a hasty goodbye before ducking into the dressing room area with his friends, confident that Adam would be unable to follow him in there.
“Are you alright, precious?” Tommy asked. “You look a little shaken up.”
“It’s nothing,” Kris lied. “I was just a little overwhelmed at running into Adam Lambert again.”
“Did he say something, petal?” Brad asked anxiously. “Because you don’t look too hot right now. If he said anything that hurt you or scared you, I’m going to run back out there and kill him.”
“Brad, please,” Kris placated him. “It’s alright; I’m alright. He didn’t hurt me. He just said a few things that got me thinking, that’s all.”
“He’s pushing you,” Tommy observed. “I think this is actually good for you, Kris-provided he doesn’t push the boundaries, of course. Maybe you should see him more often.”
“Tommy, I don’t even have his number!” Kris threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. “The fact that we ran into each other today is simply a coincidence; I don’t think we’re going to see each other again unless he walks into the club and asks for me.”
“Which is totally possible,” Tommy finished for him. “I saw the way he was looking at you, Kris. Some men enjoy puzzles they can’t quite solve-I have a feeling he’s going to come for you.”
“Can we just not talk about him for awhile?” Kris sighed. “I’ll try on whatever you want me to try on without complaint as long as we leave the Adam Lambert topic alone.”
“Yay!” Brad perked up, extracting a pair of stonewashed jeans from the alarmingly large pile of clothing he had brought in. “Try these on first; I picked them out especially for you.”
Kris sighed and resigned himself to his fate. Knowing his luck, Brad would force him to try on everything even if they would only go home with half of whatever it was that tickled his fancy. Before they left, Jonny wordlessly pressed a carefully wrapped parcel into his hands. Kris didn’t have to tear the package open to know it was the soft leather jacket Adam had insisted on purchasing for him. Later that evening, Kris finally allowed himself to divest the jacket of its wrappings so he could hang it in his closet. Adam had been clever and cruel enough to leave a cryptic note with it:
Take it. Don’t be a stranger.
- A. Lambert
Krista was relieved that things in the club had gone relatively slow that night. She had volunteered for the closing shift since she needed the extra hours due to the hole their shopping spree had burned into her pocket, so she was pretty much the lone soul left in the club. Tommy had volunteered to stay and help as soon as he had changed out of his Tammy ensemble, but Krista had shooed him away after she promised him she would be home as soon as she locked up the club. Cook had stayed behind to clean up the bar, but he had left her to her own devices about half an hour ago. Krista loved her friends dearly, but it was nice to be alone with her thoughts for once. Her only problem about living with Brad was that she rarely had moments to herself unless she was in the shower or about to fall asleep. She had a lot on her mind right now, and the only way for her to clear her head was to be by herself for a little while. Fortunately, busying herself with clean-up duties had taken her mind off the clutter in her head.
“I guess that takes care of things,” she remarked, toeing off her stilettos. “I’d better change and head home; Tommy’s going to have a cow if I don’t make it back before the witching hour.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a loud rapping sound on the glass paneled door by the ticket booth. Much to her chagrin, Adam Lambert was standing there, looking terribly inebriated.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she hissed as she threw open the door. “Anyone could see you standing out here! Do you want your face plastered all over TMZ tomorrow night?”
“It’s not like I give a fuck,” Adam flipped her off, moving past her to make himself comfortable in one of the booths. “Charlie Sheen’s fuckery is more important than mine, anyway.”
“You need to get your ass home, mister,” Krista scowled. “It’s nearly three in the morning and The Red Room is already closed. I need to go home right now, so I can’t stay and babysit you.”
“Fuck you,” Adam retorted drunkenly. “You’re the reason why I went past my consumption limit in the first place, Kristopher Allen. You’re like this annoying itch that just refuses to go away.”
“Why do I matter so much to you, anyway?” Krista demanded. “I’m no one in your life and nothing next to you. Why won’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”
Adam’s gaze was predatory. “Because I want you.”
“No, you don’t,” Krista said quietly. “You’re just fascinated by me because I’m a puzzle you can’t piece together. It’s not that complicated, Mister Lambert; I’m just a scared queer in the closet unable to come out because I can’t bring myself to forget the nasty things people from home said to me. I came to work here after I saw how confident and comfortable Brad and the others are in their own skin. Assuming the identity of Krista is my only refuge from the reality I’m too scared to face, so I’m going to hide under these clothes for as long as I can. Now that I’m done explaining, will you please leave?”
“I’m not leaving.” Adam shook his head. “Not when I finally have the real Kris Allen in front of me.”
“…what are you talking about?” Krista frowned. “I’m still in drag, in case you’re too drunk to notice. Just because I told you my story doesn’t mean you earn a place in my life.”
“You’re angry, scared and fucking horny,” Adam breathed, advancing towards Krista. “Even if you’re wearing a disguise, the emotions coursing through your body are purely Kris’. You’re scared of outing yourself because of what happened to you, but you can’t help but want someone to manhandle you, anyway. You want to be cared for, you want to be loved…you want to be fucked.”
Kris whimpered as Adam backed him up towards the bar counter, the press of his muscled body a welcome warmth against Kris’ own. Adam slid his leg in between Kris’ thighs, hiking up his dress in the process. His palms were hot and rough against the sensitive skin around Kris’ hips, and Kris found himself arching into the sinful touch.
“I’ve wanted you since the day we met,” Adam panted harshly into his ear. “You were so fucking feisty, so full of anger; it gave me chills. But do you know what truly killed me, Kris? It was the haunted look in your eyes-they spoke volumes of what your body refused to express. That look deserves no place on a face that is meant to be beautiful and happy.”
“…you’re killing me,” Kris whispered.
He let Adam turn him over and press his chest down on the wooden surface, holding him down with a firm grip while fumbling for something in his coat with his free hand.
“It never hurts to be prepared.” Adam set a packet of lubricant and a foil-wrapped condom down on the counter. “I’ve always been prone to random acts of debauchery, so I’m never short on supplies.”
“I’m probably the first guy who let you fuck him even if he hated you,” Kris said with a breathless chuckle. “Be gentle, though, okay? I’ve…never really had anything in my ass before.”
“…fuck,” Adam groaned. “You’ve never even fingered yourself open before?”
“I was too scared,” Kris admitted. “If my parents-or anyone around me, for that matter-caught me exhibiting any form of gay sexual behavior…well, you can guess what could have happened.”
“Oh, baby.” Adam’s voice was soft and soothing. “Of course you couldn’t---I should have remembered that. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”
Kris twisted his neck a bit to look Adam in the eye. “Don’t make promises you’re not going to fulfill. A big part of me may be shit scared and insanely embarrassed because my sexual experience is limited to jacking off, but there’s this small part inside that wants this so bad.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Adam growled, bringing his hand down on Kris’ ass. “They just don’t make ‘em like this in LA anymore; perhaps I’ve been fishing in the wrong pool all this time.”
Kris bit his lip as Adam’s hand crawled underneath his dress to rip his stockings and lace thong open, exposing his ass to the cold air.
“For the record, this is probably the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever chanced upon in my entire life.” Adam sounded awed, running his thumb down Kris’ crack. “Seriously, babe; I could arrange for a photoshoot with my pal Lee. We could have you sprawled out naked on my faux fur rug at home.”
“Are you seriously like this with all the guys you’ve fucked?” Kris glared at him.
Adam shook his head. “Not all of them had perfect bubble butts. Now, let’s get on with the prepping, shall we? I can assure you that we are both going to get insanely lucky tonight.”
As Adam went about with the necessary preparations, Kris found himself lost in his own thoughts again. Was he really going to spread his legs for some man he believed he hated? Given the description of his situation, it would be most appropriate to pull down his dress and hightail it out of there. However, he had always been a firm believer in the idea that desire surpassed all forms of logical thinking. When people wanted something, they would prefer to succumb to pleasure before even dreaming of the consequences their choices would entail.
“This is going to feel rather uncomfortable,” Adam warned him, pressing the flat of his thumb against Kris’ sphincter. “We’re going to start slow, but you have to tell me what it is that you want.”
“But what if I don’t know what I want?”
Adam pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “We’ll figure that out soon enough.”
Kris’ breath hitched in his throat as he felt the tip of Adam’s finger breach the tight ring of muscle. It felt odd and certainly uncomfortable, but not necessarily painful. He wiggled his ass a little, trying to get used to the feeling of being penetrated.
“Kris, baby, no.” Adam stilled him. “If you move around too much, that’s going to be too tempting for me. Hold still so I can open you up properly, alright?”
“Such a gentleman,” Kris grumbled. “It feels funny, though. Like there’s something missing.”
“That’s because one finger isn’t enough to cause any real sensation down here,” Adam explained. “I’m going to press in with two now; tell me if it hurts.”
Kris nodded. He couldn’t resist squirming a little as he tried to accustom himself to the girth of Adam’s fingers. He knew very well that taking Adam’s cock would prove to be a very different experience; the idea terrified him a little, in all honesty. As if sensing his discomfort, Adam began to scissor him open in an attempt to relax his muscles. Kris bit his lip as Adam pressed in further; from the way he was poking and reaching in, it was as if he was in search of something.
“…Jesus, Adam,” he exhaled. “How far in are you trying to-oh, fuck.”
He arched off the counter when he felt a puzzling current surge through his body. It was a strange, alien pleasure; Kris had never felt anything quite like it before.
“I got it, didn’t I?” Adam sounded triumphant. “That was your prostate, baby; you’re going to feel just that good when I finally get my cock in you. God, you make the prettiest little sounds, too.”
Kris moaned loudly when Adam pushed in with three fingers, finally feeling the sting of being penetrated. Adam was angling his thrusts in such a way that he hit Kris’ prostate each time he pushed in, making Kris mewl like a kitten. If someone were to peek through the club’s large glass windows, they would have no trouble seeing him sprawled out on the bar with Adam Lambert’s fingers in his ass. The thought of being caught in the act thrilled and embarrassed him at the same time; it surprised him greatly because he had never allowed himself to explore his sexuality before.
“Fuck me, please!” he begged Adam, panting harshly in time with his thrusts. “…I want-I want to feel your cock inside me when I come.”
“I’m gonna make it so good for you, baby,” Adam promised, withdrawing his fingers from Kris’ ass. “But first, you gotta get the condom on me. My hands are slippery, so you’ll have to take care of this.”
Kris figured it was the perfect opportunity to wipe the smirk off Adam’s face. He rolled over from underneath Adam and wrapped his legs around Adam’s waist, never once taking his eyes off him as he tore the foil wrapper open with his teeth.
“I love it when you let your inner animal go wild,” Adam said with a grin, pulling Kris’ stockings down. “Jesus, you should see yourself right now. I feel so fucking hot because I know I was the one who made you look this debauched.”
“You gotta fuck me hard if you want to make me scream.” Kris winked at him before busying himself with unbuckling Adam’s belt. “That’s just the kind of toppy bastard you are, aren’t you? You want to make your little toys feel like you own them because you’re such a control freak. Well, let me issue a warning of my own as early as now, Adam Lambert-I’m not like those pretty boys who willingly sink to their knees for you; I’ll let you top me, but I’ll fuck you as hard as you fuck me.”
A soft whine escaped his throat when he finally succeeded in ridding Adam of his belt. It hardly surprised Kris that he went commando and was noticeably more hung than what was probably legal, but the realization that he was finally holding another’s man’s cock slammed into him like a bullet to his brain. Fascinated, he curled his fist around Adam’s cock and stroked him gently, trembling a little when he felt Adam arch into his touch.
“…am I doing this right?” he asked softly.
“God, yes!” Adam growled. “But if you don’t stop touching me, you’ll have to get me up and hard again before I can fuck you-and I know that greedy little hole is aching to be fucked.”
Swallowing nervously, Kris rolled the latex over Adam’s cock, slicking it up with the lube when the condom was nice and snug around it. Adam gave his cock one last stroke-for good luck, perhaps-before pulling Kris’ legs further apart, positioning himself in the space between them.
“Okay?” he asked breathlessly. “This is your last chance to say no.”
“Give it to me,” Kris breathed, spreading himself open with his hands. “I want you to fuck me so hard that I won’t be able to feel anything but you for days.”
Adam chuckled, pressing the tip of his cock against Kris’ opening. “You’re crazy, do you know that? I’ve had boys beg for my cock before, but none of ‘em did it like you do.”
Kris moaned as he felt the head of Adam’s cock push into him, stretching him almost impossibly wide. Adam kept a hand on his chest, preventing Kris from pushing upwards as he guided himself into Kris’ willing body. He bit his lip and whimpered softly when he felt Adam’s crotch brush against his ass, indicating that he was fully sheathed inside him.
“You’re so big,” he muttered. “Fuck, Adam; I feel like I’m burning from the inside…”
“It’ll get better soon, baby,” Adam crooned, petting his hair. “You’re going to have to set the pace for this so I won’t end up hurting you. When the pain subsides, tell me so I can move.”
“It doesn’t really hurt that much,” Kris admitted. “I just feel really full, and it’s odd because I’m not used to it at all. Maybe I should have chanced upon a vibrator once upon a time, huh?”
“Don’t fret over small things,” Adam snorted. “Believe me; nothing gets a toppy bastard like me going more than knowing he’s about to fuck an honest-to-goodness virgin boy.”
“But I won’t know what to do,” Kris protested. “I won’t know how to-oh god, Adam!”
“That’s all you need to know,” Adam smirked, pulling out halfway to slowly slide into Kris again. “All you need to do is let your inner slut take over and make pretty noises while I fuck you.”
“That, uhm, sounds easy enough,” Kris said with an experimental wiggle of his hips. “Fuck, you need to do what you just did again.”
“Ahhhhhh, I see you’re the insatiable type,” Adam purred. “This will work nicely in our favor.”
Kris did not complain when he felt Adam hike his legs up even further, bending him like the men at Auntie Anne’s would their pretzels. He steadied himself by gripping Adam’s arms, allowing loud, breathy moans to escape his throat as Adam fucked him into the counter. Each thrust was a new experience; Kris felt like Adam was touching and sensitizing the nerves in his body he didn’t even know he had.
“Fuck, Adam!” he cried. “Harder, please! I want-no, I need it to hurt…”
“No can do, baby,” Adam whispered in his ear. “I would never hurt you.”
Kris shivered in Adam’s grasp, fully aware that he was nearing his peak. He clenched his hole around Adam’s cock, pleased to find out that such a small gesture could make Adam groan.
“You’re such a fucking cocktease,” he hissed, gripping Kris’ cock tightly. “And because you’re such a good boy, I’m going to help you come just this once---the next time we do it, you’re going to come because I’m balls deep in your delectable little ass.”
“Please, oh, please…” Kris murmured. “Make me come, Adam!”
Adam bent over him, bringing him to orgasm with quick, shallow thrusts. Kris cried loudly as he came, Adam jerking him dry all over his expensive white shirt. He lay there in a boneless haze as Adam continued to thrust into him, body finally going slack as he emptied himself into the condom. It was an indeterminate amount of time later when Adam eased himself out and tossed the condom into an empty trash bin behind the bar, zipping himself up afterwards. Kris bit his lip and shyly turned away as Adam wiped him down with some tissues, pulling his dress back down before helping him stand.
“I’m sorry about your panties,” Adam said with a grimace. “When I get too excited, I rip things apart-this was why they never let me play with certain toys when I was little.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Kris assured him. “I have plenty more where that came from.”
Sensing the end of the conversation, Kris motioned for Adam to follow him to the door so he could finish locking up. As soon as he slipped the keys back into his purse, Adam curled a hand around his wrist, eyes blazing with the same fire that was there when he had first backed Kris against the counter.
“Come home with me,” he said softly. “I want to see Kris.”
Kris sighed as Adam pressed their lips together. He couldn’t help but suppress the shiver that traveled down his spine as Adam pulled the long, tangled wig off his head.
“Hush,” Adam whispered against his lips. “I won’t hurt you, baby…I promise.”
(PART THREE)