Yes
(Kris/Adam, NC-17, 1160 words, mansionfic, angsty)
Note: Written as an exercise in dark(ish) themes, posted to let my flist know that I haven't drifted away from fandom, just gotten myself mired in two long WIPs. *waves hello*
Disclaimer: Pure imagination. No disrespect intended.
Yes
Another man’s hard cock. A purposeful thing. Vaguely threatening, even when it was rubbing against your own, friendly; even when its owner was laughing softly, between kisses, at his weakness for your mouth.
Typical Adam. Adam was sensual. He reveled in contact, glowed with it, like he was absorbing a charge through every square inch of skin. And yet. Those inches aimed at Kris. So many, and thick; sleekly tapered at the tip, to seek and penetrate. A hard cock wasn't to be denied. The dreamy nights of exploring and lingering--denials, at least some of them, scenes played out only partway to completion.
This was going to be one of the other nights. Kris kicked free of the covers and brought his legs up on either side of Adam’s, a promise of welcome. He lifted his hips to make it explicit, and Adam said, “You want to try?” Voice neutral, giddiness vanished. He waited for Kris’s answer. A nod wasn’t good enough.
“Yeah.”
Adam raised off him and went into the bathroom to get what they needed. No reason why he shouldn’t keep that stuff next to the bed--except to send a message to Kris, about what he didn’t expect, much less demand. Kris believed him, but there was a superseding truth. The hard cock.
Adam brushed Kris’s lips with his fingers--the fingers that were going inside Kris--before he began. For luck, maybe, or simply for love. This part was nice. Adam tending to him, his progress slow and slippery. “Two now, OK?” Squeezing out more lube for three, eyes attentive on Kris’s face as he gently twisted them deep.
Kris didn’t care what anyone said, it was different between a man and a man. Adam put him on his back, and on a pedestal, and there was no deference in either. It wasn’t that he wanted Adam to beg for his favors, or anything stupid like that. He just . . . They came together as equals in strength, but somehow that worked out to Adam having an advantage.
“I’m--that’s enough,” Kris said. He watched the condom unroll between Adam’s thumb and forefinger. “I hate the way those things feel.”
“Kris, do you even want to do this?”
Yes and no.
He let his thighs fall open. The first time, Adam had cupped his chin and kissed him, and said earnestly, “It’ll probably feel weird and uncomfortable when we start. Tell me if it’s too much.” Now he asked, polite, checking off the final consent box, “Are you sure?”
And Kris, at the point of his cock, said, “Yes.”
That too-tight, sticking grip of his body, trying to hold on to it and reject it at the same time. Weird, all right. His hips jerked in involuntary retreat. Nowhere to go. Adam pressed forward, knowing from experience that Kris’s resentful grunt didn’t mean stop. Stop came an inch or two later, around the halfway mark.
Adam never called him on the obvious. That he was the one who climbed naked into Adam’s bed; that Adam could’ve had him there the first week, and not because he was some master seducer of straight boys. But if you followed up every yes with no, even the most patient lover was bound to decide, sooner or later, that you weren’t worth the drama. One of these nights, Kris would use up his quota of no, and that would be that.
“Adam-- ”
Adam stilled above him. “Kris, I want you to do something for me.” Authority like the lick of a whip, shocking Kris into momentary submission. “I want you to be loud. As loud as you can. I want you to moan and curse and fucking scream. Stop still means stop,” he added. He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, parting the damp curtain of his bangs. “Can you do that?”
“Adam, fuck-- ” It was crazy, how the words were right there, waiting to leap from his throat--how they must’ve been right there, for God knew how long. Letting loose felt viciously satisfying, like biting down with a snap of teeth. Adam pushed the rest of the way into him, huge and intrusive, and the dammed-up pleas and protests and whatever the fuck spilled over, tumbling incoherence, “Oh, fuck, fuck, Adam, oh God-- ”
Getting it up there was only the beginning. Adam’s cock meant to do this to him over and over, to have him over and over. This whole thing, their whole thing, was so easy for Adam, none of the concessions on his side. “Who the hell do you think you are,” Kris raged, quieter. He was panting a little, trembling.
“It’s all right. It’s all right.” Adam stroked his cheek. Light questioning fingertips, making sure. “Go ahead, no one can hear us down here.”
“You don’t know that,” Kris argued, with a grudge’s worth of bitterness. You always think you know.
“They’re not going to come running at the sound of you yelling my name, trust me.” Adam was moving now, precise shallow thrusts. “Go on.”
He couldn’t hold back. He moaned, long and low. This was happening. Of course. There was no humbling a hard cock, you had to fall back, open up . . . It wasn’t pain where Adam was stretching him. It was heat. He was being forged in it.
“If you’re going to fuck me, then fuck me, come on-- ”
Adam gasped once, then frowned, as though resisting the distraction of pleasure. Adam was so--he was the most generous person Kris had ever met. He didn’t deserve this shit. He couldn’t help it, any more than Kris could.
Kris struck out anyway, with all the words he’d been raised never to say, words he’d never suspected himself of. “Yeah, like that, the whole fucking thing, harder, make me take it, make me-- ”
He shoved at Adam’s chest. Adam took the hint and lowered his full weight, and then Kris got to hold on to Adam’s shoulders while Adam nuzzled at him and urged him on, proud of him, ridiculous.
“I can’t,” Kris said, accusing.
“You can.”
He clung. Gathering, tensing. Almost, almost believing in himself as Adam saw him, supple and strong. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“I know, baby, I know.”
No words for the slam-shut and release that arched his body into Adam’s, his cock pumping against Adam’s belly, smearing slick and messy everywhere. Adam cried out for both of them, an abrupt, helpless sound, muffled in Kris’s neck. Kris couldn’t really feel him come--he’d wondered about that--except for a brief pulsing inside, startlingly sweet.
Adam did the two-fingered V to secure the condom while he pulled out, as gradually as he’d entered, leaving the shape of himself behind. Kris had never imagined such a thing, a hollowness that pierced. How could Adam do this to him, what was he supposed to--
He said furiously, “Next time, stay.” And then he turned into Adam’s waiting arms and sobbed, because breaking through felt a lot like breaking.
--end--
Note: Written as an exercise in dark(ish) themes, posted to let my flist know that I haven't drifted away from fandom, just gotten myself mired in two long WIPs. *waves hello*
Disclaimer: Pure imagination. No disrespect intended.
Yes
Another man’s hard cock. A purposeful thing. Vaguely threatening, even when it was rubbing against your own, friendly; even when its owner was laughing softly, between kisses, at his weakness for your mouth.
Typical Adam. Adam was sensual. He reveled in contact, glowed with it, like he was absorbing a charge through every square inch of skin. And yet. Those inches aimed at Kris. So many, and thick; sleekly tapered at the tip, to seek and penetrate. A hard cock wasn't to be denied. The dreamy nights of exploring and lingering--denials, at least some of them, scenes played out only partway to completion.
This was going to be one of the other nights. Kris kicked free of the covers and brought his legs up on either side of Adam’s, a promise of welcome. He lifted his hips to make it explicit, and Adam said, “You want to try?” Voice neutral, giddiness vanished. He waited for Kris’s answer. A nod wasn’t good enough.
“Yeah.”
Adam raised off him and went into the bathroom to get what they needed. No reason why he shouldn’t keep that stuff next to the bed--except to send a message to Kris, about what he didn’t expect, much less demand. Kris believed him, but there was a superseding truth. The hard cock.
Adam brushed Kris’s lips with his fingers--the fingers that were going inside Kris--before he began. For luck, maybe, or simply for love. This part was nice. Adam tending to him, his progress slow and slippery. “Two now, OK?” Squeezing out more lube for three, eyes attentive on Kris’s face as he gently twisted them deep.
Kris didn’t care what anyone said, it was different between a man and a man. Adam put him on his back, and on a pedestal, and there was no deference in either. It wasn’t that he wanted Adam to beg for his favors, or anything stupid like that. He just . . . They came together as equals in strength, but somehow that worked out to Adam having an advantage.
“I’m--that’s enough,” Kris said. He watched the condom unroll between Adam’s thumb and forefinger. “I hate the way those things feel.”
“Kris, do you even want to do this?”
Yes and no.
He let his thighs fall open. The first time, Adam had cupped his chin and kissed him, and said earnestly, “It’ll probably feel weird and uncomfortable when we start. Tell me if it’s too much.” Now he asked, polite, checking off the final consent box, “Are you sure?”
And Kris, at the point of his cock, said, “Yes.”
That too-tight, sticking grip of his body, trying to hold on to it and reject it at the same time. Weird, all right. His hips jerked in involuntary retreat. Nowhere to go. Adam pressed forward, knowing from experience that Kris’s resentful grunt didn’t mean stop. Stop came an inch or two later, around the halfway mark.
Adam never called him on the obvious. That he was the one who climbed naked into Adam’s bed; that Adam could’ve had him there the first week, and not because he was some master seducer of straight boys. But if you followed up every yes with no, even the most patient lover was bound to decide, sooner or later, that you weren’t worth the drama. One of these nights, Kris would use up his quota of no, and that would be that.
“Adam-- ”
Adam stilled above him. “Kris, I want you to do something for me.” Authority like the lick of a whip, shocking Kris into momentary submission. “I want you to be loud. As loud as you can. I want you to moan and curse and fucking scream. Stop still means stop,” he added. He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, parting the damp curtain of his bangs. “Can you do that?”
“Adam, fuck-- ” It was crazy, how the words were right there, waiting to leap from his throat--how they must’ve been right there, for God knew how long. Letting loose felt viciously satisfying, like biting down with a snap of teeth. Adam pushed the rest of the way into him, huge and intrusive, and the dammed-up pleas and protests and whatever the fuck spilled over, tumbling incoherence, “Oh, fuck, fuck, Adam, oh God-- ”
Getting it up there was only the beginning. Adam’s cock meant to do this to him over and over, to have him over and over. This whole thing, their whole thing, was so easy for Adam, none of the concessions on his side. “Who the hell do you think you are,” Kris raged, quieter. He was panting a little, trembling.
“It’s all right. It’s all right.” Adam stroked his cheek. Light questioning fingertips, making sure. “Go ahead, no one can hear us down here.”
“You don’t know that,” Kris argued, with a grudge’s worth of bitterness. You always think you know.
“They’re not going to come running at the sound of you yelling my name, trust me.” Adam was moving now, precise shallow thrusts. “Go on.”
He couldn’t hold back. He moaned, long and low. This was happening. Of course. There was no humbling a hard cock, you had to fall back, open up . . . It wasn’t pain where Adam was stretching him. It was heat. He was being forged in it.
“If you’re going to fuck me, then fuck me, come on-- ”
Adam gasped once, then frowned, as though resisting the distraction of pleasure. Adam was so--he was the most generous person Kris had ever met. He didn’t deserve this shit. He couldn’t help it, any more than Kris could.
Kris struck out anyway, with all the words he’d been raised never to say, words he’d never suspected himself of. “Yeah, like that, the whole fucking thing, harder, make me take it, make me-- ”
He shoved at Adam’s chest. Adam took the hint and lowered his full weight, and then Kris got to hold on to Adam’s shoulders while Adam nuzzled at him and urged him on, proud of him, ridiculous.
“I can’t,” Kris said, accusing.
“You can.”
He clung. Gathering, tensing. Almost, almost believing in himself as Adam saw him, supple and strong. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“I know, baby, I know.”
No words for the slam-shut and release that arched his body into Adam’s, his cock pumping against Adam’s belly, smearing slick and messy everywhere. Adam cried out for both of them, an abrupt, helpless sound, muffled in Kris’s neck. Kris couldn’t really feel him come--he’d wondered about that--except for a brief pulsing inside, startlingly sweet.
Adam did the two-fingered V to secure the condom while he pulled out, as gradually as he’d entered, leaving the shape of himself behind. Kris had never imagined such a thing, a hollowness that pierced. How could Adam do this to him, what was he supposed to--
He said furiously, “Next time, stay.” And then he turned into Adam’s waiting arms and sobbed, because breaking through felt a lot like breaking.
--end--