Fic: Encore (David Cook/Kris Allen)
Title: Encore
Rating: R
Pairing: David Cook/Kris Allen
Summary: Kris Allen doesn't find out until the morning of that he'll be opening for David Cook. (Sort of AU taking place before Idol.)
Word Count: 2,200 words
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone in this story.
Author Note: Written for Inna_andthesky. Happy holidays <3
Not a lot of bands came to Conway that weren’t from Arkansas. Even getting a local band from Little Rock tended to be a big deal at the bars Kris frequented. He wasn’t 21 yet, still a couple of months shy, so he wasn’t at the bars to drink like everyone else (though the bartender did let him sneak drinks every once in a while.) Kris was there for the music, to listen and to play. Aside from coffee shops, and the local college, bars tended to be the only places that gave a voice to local musicians. Very few stayed in Conway, instead moving to one of the closer cities, or a different state all together. But Conway was home for Kris now. He couldn’t leave, at least not without giving up music.
He knew a couple of weeks in advance that a musician from Tulsa was coming to his bar (it wasn’t his, but he had started to think of it that way,) an artist that was on his first tour of the Midwest, attempting to extend his following. And of course Kris had been looking forward to it, anything for new live music.
The morning of the show, his phone rang, waking him from a deep sleep. It took him a full minute to realize it was Jason, the owner of the bar, begging him to play that night, that the opener for David Cook had bailed last minute. Kris said yes without even thinking, about the fact that the bar was more than likely going to be packed, about the fact that he didn’t have anything prepared, had barely played more than a couple of songs for a handful of people in weeks. The only thing that kept him steady throughout the day was the thought that this was a gig, a good gig. One that would mean not harassing his parents for money for food that week.
Kris was a quiet guy. He tended to keep to himself for the most part, especially on days he was playing. He didn’t tell any of his friends about the gig that night, knowing they would just amp up his nerves. Instead, he stuck to the back of the bar, just him and his guitar, going over chords and lyrics in his head. His eyes flew open, his thoughts pulled from the song and back to reality when someone bumped into him.
“Shit, sorry man. Small hallway, and didn’t see you.” He was carrying an amp, and a guitar case. It wasn’t a stretch for Kris to realize this had to be David Cook.
“No worries,” Kris said, bending down to help pick up the chords David had dropped.
“You my opener?” David asked, and surprisingly, there wasn’t any cockiness there; just open curiosity.
“Yeah, Kris Allen. Nice to meet you.” Kris held out his hand to shake, taking it back when he realized David’s hands were full. David put down his stuff though, held out his own hand, and Kris kind of wished he hadn’t made the offer, his palm warm and sweaty against David’s.
“David Cook. Thanks for coming in last minute. It would have sucked to extend my set, and my guitarist would have killed me.”
“Guitarist?” Kris asked questioningly, because he had thought from the information he had that this was just a singer-songwriter like him.
“Yeah, my friend Neal. He’s doing me a favor and helping out on a bunch of songs.” The corners of David’s eyes crinkled, and Kris’ breath caught at the sight. It was a strange thing to notice, the way the colors in David’s eyes shifted when he smiled.
“So, I’ll see you out there? I gotta get this stuff over to the stage.”
“Yeah,” Kris nodded, because he didn’t know what else to say. He watched David walk down the hallway, until he turned the corner. Once again, Kris drowned out the sound of the bar crowd, getting louder as the minutes rolled by, and concentrated on getting the shaking in his hands to stop. He could do this. It was just another gig. It didn’t mean anything that this guy from another state with the nice smile would be watching. It didn’t.
------
It was easier once Kris started playing to forget about his nerves. He got lost in the music, in the rise and fall of his voice, in the guitar strings beneath his fingertips. He forgot most of the time about the way half of the bar crowd was talking over his playing, and he was even able to push out the steady gaze of David watching from side stage, beer in hand. Occasionally Kris would see him lean over, say something to his guitarist, but mostly, his eyes were just on Kris.
He finished his last song to a light applause, and in his book, it had gone well. Kris didn’t mess up too much, and he probably had more people watching him that night than he had all month.
“Awesome set,” David said warmly when he reached side stage, clasping his shoulder. The gentle squeeze sent a shiver down Kris’ spine that he didn’t think was from the cold sweat that had set in.
Kris disappeared just long enough to put his guitar away. When he returned back inside, it was to the sound of the first guitar chord ringing out. It wasn’t the best performance Kris had ever seen, not by a mile. But there was something about this David Cook, in the way he swaggered like a rock star, like the stage was his and wasn’t in some flimsy little bar. He demanded the audience’s attention, and he got every bit of it. The crowd fed off of his energy until the only sound in the room was David’s voice and the backing guitars. Kris was pulled right in like everybody else.
He didn’t approach David when he was done, unsure if it was wanted, unsure of what he would say. Instead, he stayed by the bar, helping Jason clean up the plethora of beer bottles that had accumulated during David’s set, untouched because Jason was too busy watching to do his job.
“You work here too?” David asked, leaning against the bar.
Kris made a multitude of sounds, none of which could be construed as words. David’s arm was brushing against his, and Kris could see the sweat glistening on his brow. “No, just helping out.”
“Get me a beer then?” David asked, and Kris nodded. Talent usually drank for free anyway. Kris handed him the drink, watched the muscles in his neck move as David downed half of it.
“Thanks,” he said, once he put it down, licking his lips. “Some chick invited us to this party a couple blocks over. You coming?”
Kris shrugged. “I hadn’t really heard about it.”
“Come with me.” It wasn’t a question, or even a request. David’s eyes were watching him closely, as he leaned over the bar, as close to Kris as he could get without touching.
“Okay,” Kris nodded.
He didn’t know what he was doing, or why. He’d been in college long enough to know when a guy was flirting with him, and for the first time ever, he was flirting back. He didn’t know if it was the safety of this guy not being a local, the knowledge that if he didn’t want to, he never had to see him again. But Kris wanted him. He wanted those arms to hold him down, those lips to cover his, that voice to whisper things in his ear. Just the thought of it was enough to make Kris’ body heat up, a groan escaping his lips.
The party ended up being loud, and obnoxious; the kind of parties Kris could usually only stomach when drunk. He lost David a couple of times in the mix, people clamoring for his attention, to talk to this out of town musician with a killer voice. Kris didn’t mind so much. He stuck to the kitchen, drinking his fill, talking to a couple of friends from college until he was feeling loose and relaxed. When David found him again, Kris was smiling, comfortable and bright. He would have gone with David anywhere.
“Enjoying the party? David asked, a knowing smirk on his lips.
“It’s not bad.”
“The girl who lives here said we can crash here tonight. Got a room and everything.”
“Oh?” Kris couldn’t bring himself to say much else, his hand gripping the edge of the counter, the glass in his hand feeling all too heavy.
“Want to come check it out with me?” The look on David’s face was serious then, his fingers running down Kris’ arm, stopping at his wrist in a light hold. All it took was a simple nod from Kris, and David was leading the way.
Kris doesn’t remember much about the trip to the bedroom, the knowing eyes that were probably on them. He can’t bring himself to care. The moment the door closed, David was on him, hands in his hair, mouth sealed against his begging for entry. David’s tongue slipped inside when Kris went to breathe, moaning instead, letting David pin him against the door.
“Fuck, you look good,” David said when he pulled away, latching onto Kris’ neck. Kris’ eyes fluttered closed, everything in his body zeroing in on the places David was touching him. Hands, mouth, knee between his legs.
They stumbled onto the bed, Kris somehow ending up on top of David, looking down at him. “You do this a lot?” Kris asked, unable to help himself. He wants this, he does, and it shouldn’t be more than that, but somehow it is.
“I wouldn’t say a lot.” David’s palm was a warm weight against his back, unmoving, as if studying Kris for some sort of reaction.
Kris shook his head of the drunken melancholy, grinding down against David, willing himself to just feel and experience and not worry like he always does. Drunken hook up or not, he wants this.
Kris’ shirt comes off first, and then David is on top of him, straddling his waist, his own shirt following suit. Kris can’t look as David’s mouth trails down his body, open mouth kisses, stopping every once in a while to suck and lick. He reaches his belt buckle, hand running up and down the bulge in his pants until Kris is a moaning mess.
“Please,” Kris begged. “Just fucking do something.”
David shushed him with a kiss on his lips, languid and soothing, all the while his hand worked at his belt buckle, pulling his zipper down. And then there are lips wrapped around him, sucking lightly, almost teasing. It doesn’t take long once David swallows him all the way. One look at David, his head bobbing up and down, his eyes intent on what he’s doing and Kris loses it, not even enough time to give warning, but David doesn’t pull away until Kris is spent.
David crawled up his body, touching all the way, and Kris’ sensitive skin was practically thrumming by then. “Liked that, huh?” David asked, his voice low, a little raw from the blow job. Kris reached out, touched his swollen lips, watching as David’s tongue flicked out, licking around the digit.
“Do you want me to?” Kris asked, once he could find his voice again.
David laughed, loud and easy, his hand wrapping around Kris’ neck to bring him in for a kiss. “It would be appreciated.”
Kris‘ experience with guys has always been limited to drunken make outs and blow jobs at parties. He tries to pay attention to what makes David moan, grasp his hair, beg for more. The warm weight of David against his tongue feels good, better than anything has in a while. He can’t take him all the way down, but he settles his hand at the base of David’s cock, moving it along with his mouth and David seems to like that. David does warn him when he’s close, a string of profanities dripping from his tongue. Kris pulls back, brings him off the rest of the way with his hand. He wiped it on his shirt, for lack of a better place, staying on the edge of the bed. David was breathing heavy, trying to get it under control, eyes closed and a content look on his face.
He cracked one eye open, smiling at Kris. “You could come back up here you know.”
Kris nodded, crawling back up the bed, smiling a little when David pulled him against him, arm around his shoulders so Kris’ head is cradled against his chest. “You can leave if you want. Or you can stay.”
Kris knew David would be leaving in the morning, that there’s a chance he’d never see him again. But the heart beat beneath his head was steady and calming, and right then he couldn’t bring himself to care. He can have this, at least for now.
Rating: R
Pairing: David Cook/Kris Allen
Summary: Kris Allen doesn't find out until the morning of that he'll be opening for David Cook. (Sort of AU taking place before Idol.)
Word Count: 2,200 words
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone in this story.
Author Note: Written for Inna_andthesky. Happy holidays <3
Not a lot of bands came to Conway that weren’t from Arkansas. Even getting a local band from Little Rock tended to be a big deal at the bars Kris frequented. He wasn’t 21 yet, still a couple of months shy, so he wasn’t at the bars to drink like everyone else (though the bartender did let him sneak drinks every once in a while.) Kris was there for the music, to listen and to play. Aside from coffee shops, and the local college, bars tended to be the only places that gave a voice to local musicians. Very few stayed in Conway, instead moving to one of the closer cities, or a different state all together. But Conway was home for Kris now. He couldn’t leave, at least not without giving up music.
He knew a couple of weeks in advance that a musician from Tulsa was coming to his bar (it wasn’t his, but he had started to think of it that way,) an artist that was on his first tour of the Midwest, attempting to extend his following. And of course Kris had been looking forward to it, anything for new live music.
The morning of the show, his phone rang, waking him from a deep sleep. It took him a full minute to realize it was Jason, the owner of the bar, begging him to play that night, that the opener for David Cook had bailed last minute. Kris said yes without even thinking, about the fact that the bar was more than likely going to be packed, about the fact that he didn’t have anything prepared, had barely played more than a couple of songs for a handful of people in weeks. The only thing that kept him steady throughout the day was the thought that this was a gig, a good gig. One that would mean not harassing his parents for money for food that week.
Kris was a quiet guy. He tended to keep to himself for the most part, especially on days he was playing. He didn’t tell any of his friends about the gig that night, knowing they would just amp up his nerves. Instead, he stuck to the back of the bar, just him and his guitar, going over chords and lyrics in his head. His eyes flew open, his thoughts pulled from the song and back to reality when someone bumped into him.
“Shit, sorry man. Small hallway, and didn’t see you.” He was carrying an amp, and a guitar case. It wasn’t a stretch for Kris to realize this had to be David Cook.
“No worries,” Kris said, bending down to help pick up the chords David had dropped.
“You my opener?” David asked, and surprisingly, there wasn’t any cockiness there; just open curiosity.
“Yeah, Kris Allen. Nice to meet you.” Kris held out his hand to shake, taking it back when he realized David’s hands were full. David put down his stuff though, held out his own hand, and Kris kind of wished he hadn’t made the offer, his palm warm and sweaty against David’s.
“David Cook. Thanks for coming in last minute. It would have sucked to extend my set, and my guitarist would have killed me.”
“Guitarist?” Kris asked questioningly, because he had thought from the information he had that this was just a singer-songwriter like him.
“Yeah, my friend Neal. He’s doing me a favor and helping out on a bunch of songs.” The corners of David’s eyes crinkled, and Kris’ breath caught at the sight. It was a strange thing to notice, the way the colors in David’s eyes shifted when he smiled.
“So, I’ll see you out there? I gotta get this stuff over to the stage.”
“Yeah,” Kris nodded, because he didn’t know what else to say. He watched David walk down the hallway, until he turned the corner. Once again, Kris drowned out the sound of the bar crowd, getting louder as the minutes rolled by, and concentrated on getting the shaking in his hands to stop. He could do this. It was just another gig. It didn’t mean anything that this guy from another state with the nice smile would be watching. It didn’t.
------
It was easier once Kris started playing to forget about his nerves. He got lost in the music, in the rise and fall of his voice, in the guitar strings beneath his fingertips. He forgot most of the time about the way half of the bar crowd was talking over his playing, and he was even able to push out the steady gaze of David watching from side stage, beer in hand. Occasionally Kris would see him lean over, say something to his guitarist, but mostly, his eyes were just on Kris.
He finished his last song to a light applause, and in his book, it had gone well. Kris didn’t mess up too much, and he probably had more people watching him that night than he had all month.
“Awesome set,” David said warmly when he reached side stage, clasping his shoulder. The gentle squeeze sent a shiver down Kris’ spine that he didn’t think was from the cold sweat that had set in.
Kris disappeared just long enough to put his guitar away. When he returned back inside, it was to the sound of the first guitar chord ringing out. It wasn’t the best performance Kris had ever seen, not by a mile. But there was something about this David Cook, in the way he swaggered like a rock star, like the stage was his and wasn’t in some flimsy little bar. He demanded the audience’s attention, and he got every bit of it. The crowd fed off of his energy until the only sound in the room was David’s voice and the backing guitars. Kris was pulled right in like everybody else.
He didn’t approach David when he was done, unsure if it was wanted, unsure of what he would say. Instead, he stayed by the bar, helping Jason clean up the plethora of beer bottles that had accumulated during David’s set, untouched because Jason was too busy watching to do his job.
“You work here too?” David asked, leaning against the bar.
Kris made a multitude of sounds, none of which could be construed as words. David’s arm was brushing against his, and Kris could see the sweat glistening on his brow. “No, just helping out.”
“Get me a beer then?” David asked, and Kris nodded. Talent usually drank for free anyway. Kris handed him the drink, watched the muscles in his neck move as David downed half of it.
“Thanks,” he said, once he put it down, licking his lips. “Some chick invited us to this party a couple blocks over. You coming?”
Kris shrugged. “I hadn’t really heard about it.”
“Come with me.” It wasn’t a question, or even a request. David’s eyes were watching him closely, as he leaned over the bar, as close to Kris as he could get without touching.
“Okay,” Kris nodded.
He didn’t know what he was doing, or why. He’d been in college long enough to know when a guy was flirting with him, and for the first time ever, he was flirting back. He didn’t know if it was the safety of this guy not being a local, the knowledge that if he didn’t want to, he never had to see him again. But Kris wanted him. He wanted those arms to hold him down, those lips to cover his, that voice to whisper things in his ear. Just the thought of it was enough to make Kris’ body heat up, a groan escaping his lips.
The party ended up being loud, and obnoxious; the kind of parties Kris could usually only stomach when drunk. He lost David a couple of times in the mix, people clamoring for his attention, to talk to this out of town musician with a killer voice. Kris didn’t mind so much. He stuck to the kitchen, drinking his fill, talking to a couple of friends from college until he was feeling loose and relaxed. When David found him again, Kris was smiling, comfortable and bright. He would have gone with David anywhere.
“Enjoying the party? David asked, a knowing smirk on his lips.
“It’s not bad.”
“The girl who lives here said we can crash here tonight. Got a room and everything.”
“Oh?” Kris couldn’t bring himself to say much else, his hand gripping the edge of the counter, the glass in his hand feeling all too heavy.
“Want to come check it out with me?” The look on David’s face was serious then, his fingers running down Kris’ arm, stopping at his wrist in a light hold. All it took was a simple nod from Kris, and David was leading the way.
Kris doesn’t remember much about the trip to the bedroom, the knowing eyes that were probably on them. He can’t bring himself to care. The moment the door closed, David was on him, hands in his hair, mouth sealed against his begging for entry. David’s tongue slipped inside when Kris went to breathe, moaning instead, letting David pin him against the door.
“Fuck, you look good,” David said when he pulled away, latching onto Kris’ neck. Kris’ eyes fluttered closed, everything in his body zeroing in on the places David was touching him. Hands, mouth, knee between his legs.
They stumbled onto the bed, Kris somehow ending up on top of David, looking down at him. “You do this a lot?” Kris asked, unable to help himself. He wants this, he does, and it shouldn’t be more than that, but somehow it is.
“I wouldn’t say a lot.” David’s palm was a warm weight against his back, unmoving, as if studying Kris for some sort of reaction.
Kris shook his head of the drunken melancholy, grinding down against David, willing himself to just feel and experience and not worry like he always does. Drunken hook up or not, he wants this.
Kris’ shirt comes off first, and then David is on top of him, straddling his waist, his own shirt following suit. Kris can’t look as David’s mouth trails down his body, open mouth kisses, stopping every once in a while to suck and lick. He reaches his belt buckle, hand running up and down the bulge in his pants until Kris is a moaning mess.
“Please,” Kris begged. “Just fucking do something.”
David shushed him with a kiss on his lips, languid and soothing, all the while his hand worked at his belt buckle, pulling his zipper down. And then there are lips wrapped around him, sucking lightly, almost teasing. It doesn’t take long once David swallows him all the way. One look at David, his head bobbing up and down, his eyes intent on what he’s doing and Kris loses it, not even enough time to give warning, but David doesn’t pull away until Kris is spent.
David crawled up his body, touching all the way, and Kris’ sensitive skin was practically thrumming by then. “Liked that, huh?” David asked, his voice low, a little raw from the blow job. Kris reached out, touched his swollen lips, watching as David’s tongue flicked out, licking around the digit.
“Do you want me to?” Kris asked, once he could find his voice again.
David laughed, loud and easy, his hand wrapping around Kris’ neck to bring him in for a kiss. “It would be appreciated.”
Kris‘ experience with guys has always been limited to drunken make outs and blow jobs at parties. He tries to pay attention to what makes David moan, grasp his hair, beg for more. The warm weight of David against his tongue feels good, better than anything has in a while. He can’t take him all the way down, but he settles his hand at the base of David’s cock, moving it along with his mouth and David seems to like that. David does warn him when he’s close, a string of profanities dripping from his tongue. Kris pulls back, brings him off the rest of the way with his hand. He wiped it on his shirt, for lack of a better place, staying on the edge of the bed. David was breathing heavy, trying to get it under control, eyes closed and a content look on his face.
He cracked one eye open, smiling at Kris. “You could come back up here you know.”
Kris nodded, crawling back up the bed, smiling a little when David pulled him against him, arm around his shoulders so Kris’ head is cradled against his chest. “You can leave if you want. Or you can stay.”
Kris knew David would be leaving in the morning, that there’s a chance he’d never see him again. But the heart beat beneath his head was steady and calming, and right then he couldn’t bring himself to care. He can have this, at least for now.