show and tell, kris/adam, ai rpf, 1/1. there be porn within this post
Title: show and tell
Author: moirariordan
Fandom: american idol rpf
Pairings/Characters: kris allen/adam lambert
Rating: nc-17
Summary: porn. self-indulgent porn.
Warnings: bondage, humiliation, D/s, BDSM, light voyeurism. From a prompt at aianonlovefest: Kradam, established. Kris tied up and on a spreader bar. Adam doing whatever he wants to Kris, for however long he wants. Bonus points for lots of begging from Kris. So. You can imagine. Or just read it, I guess.
A text, in the middle of a midday meeting, makes Kris’s blood run hot and cold, all at once.
Dry cleaning?
“Shit,” he curses, fiercely under his breath. His assistant looks up, startled, and he blushes hotly, turning his face away. “Sorry. Nothing - it’s nothing. What were you saying?”
was late this morning, forgot, he sends in response, shivering, so so sorry. i’ll make it up to u?
yes you will, he gets back, a few extra long minutes later. Kris can’t concentrate for the rest of the day.
When he gets home, Kris enters cautiously, almost creeping across the living room, setting his keys down carefully on the table, chagrined at his own nervousness but unwilling to actually take the risk.
“Adam?” he calls, carefully. An answering reply comes from somewhere upstairs, and Kris shivers.
Adam is sitting at his desk, glasses perched delicately on the bridge of his nose, pouring over a stack of paperwork. “Hey baby,” he greets distractedly, “did you know that hiring a new publicist sucks hardcore? Because I do. Now.”
“Um,” Kris replies, peeking over Adam’s shoulder to peer at the contracts laid across the desk. “I did, actually. I told you not to fire what’s-her-name.”
“Brianna,” Adam supplies, “and she sucked hardcore too.” Shaking his head, he drops the papers with a small noise of disgust, turns his head up for a kiss. “Hi.”
“Hey,” Kris mumbles back, muffled by the soft press of Adam’s skin.
“How was your day?” Adam asks, reaching up with one hand to smooth down Kris’s collar. “You look tired.”
“Meetings,” Kris says, distracted and a bit taken aback, the tension and expectation from Adam’s earlier text itching beneath his skin in a steady, pulsing beat. “Um. I’m sorry I forgot to drop off your suit.”
Adam raises a single eyebrow. “Mmhmm,” he says steadily, tracing the line of Kris’s collarbone with his knuckles. “We’ll talk about that later. But now - are you hungry? I got Chinese.”
Kris blinks as Adam’s hand falls away, and he resists the urge to tip forward and follow it. “Uh - sure,” he says haltingly, and Adam smiles indulgently.
“Tea,” he says bluntly, narrowing his eyes.
“What?”
“You need tea,” Adam clarifies, and leads Kris back towards the stairs. “Special Adam Lambert recipe, guaranteed to wipe away any and all remnants of a long, boring, meeting-filled day.”
“Does this special Adam Lambert recipe involve pot?” Kris asks suspiciously.
“Kris,” Adam says emphatically, widening his eyes, “I’m not twenty-two anymore. Or twenty-five. Or twenty-seven. Jeez.”
The special Adam Lambert recipe does its work well, regardless of the distinct lack of marijuana, and with the added perk of a special Adam Lambert neck massage, Kris’s tension melts away magically. Adam even kills the lights and sets up the candles from the patio all around the living room, flipping on some music and humming along in a low, warm voice.
“I bought myself a present today,” he says, leaning down to nibble lazily at Kris’s shoulder, rubbing at the pressure points in Kris’s hands.
“Yeah?” Kris manages, despite the fact that he is now, in fact, a puddle of his former self.
“A few presents, actually,” Adam continues, “I wanna show you. Okay?”
“‘Kay,” Kris agrees, head tipping back onto Adam’s shoulder, eyes slipping shut languidly.
“Kristopher,” Adam intones, voice lifting at the edges with laugher, “don’t fall asleep on me. That would suck even more than hiring a publicist. Or firing a publicist.”
“‘m not asleep,” Kris protests, forcing his eyes open. “See?”
“Right,” Adam says, rising from the couch smoothly, pulling him up by an elbow. “C’mon.”
Adam leads him into the bedroom, pushing him down on the edge of the bed with one firm hand. Snagging a blue scarf from the night stand, he dangles it in front of Kris’s face. “Okay?”
Kris raises an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted to show me.”
“I am going to show you,” Adam replies, imitating the lilt of Kris's voice with a grin. “I just want it to be a surprise.” He smiles innocently.
Kris grumbles, but tips his head back obediently, allowing Adam to tie the scarf around his eyes, knotting it at the back of his head. He winces slightly as Adam pulls it a little too tight, and Adam brushes an apologetic hand down his cheek, adjusting it until it sits snugly across his eyes.
“This is what I love about this,” Adam says silkily. His voice is coming from somewhere above Kris’s head, and with his vision obscured, Kris feels a bit floaty, sense perception thrown out of whack. “It’s not about me, it’s about you, with this on,” Adam continues, and Kris feels the tap of a finger on the blindfold, right on the bridge of his nose. “It’s just about what you’re feeling, what you’re experiencing. Not about what I look like or what I’m doing. See?”
“Nope,” Kris quips, grinning as he feels Adam slide his hand down the side of his face, tracing the line of his chin.
“Smart ass,” Adam says fondly, and the hand pulls away. Kris feels its absence almost immediately.
He hears a strange sort of commotion to his right, and he cocks his head, trying to picture what Adam must be doing, but it’s useless. He thinks he can make out the sound of rustling material, the sheets of the bed, maybe? And some kind of clinking, like the sound of jewelry, but he can’t be sure.
“So,” Adam says, and his voice is startlingly close. Kris barely keeps himself from jumping at it. “That party is tomorrow night.”
Kris wracks his brain, trying to remember details, and fails. “Oh?” he settles on, knowing Adam will see through it.
“You forgot that too, huh,” he says, and his voice is a bit different on that, not colder, but not as warm and fond as it’d been before, earlier. “You are such a guy sometimes.”
“I’m sorry,” Kris says sheepishly. “If it makes you feel any better I forget important things about my life even more.”
“Not really,” Adam comments easily, voice coming from a different direction, now, and Kris startles again slightly. “The party,” he continues pointedly, “is very important to me; it’s at Drew Barrymore’s house, and I’m supposed to be singing. At Drew Barrymore’s house, Kris. I love her.”
“And…I’m happy for you?” Kris attempts, hearing Adam sigh, in frustration, disappointment, he can’t tell.
“I was going to wear that suit,” Adam says flatly.
“Oh,” Kris says, skin breaking out into goose bumps.
“Yeah, oh.” Adam’s hands grasp Kris’s wrists, pulling him to his feet in one swift motion. Kris stumbles slightly, thrown off by the blindfold, and ends up steadying himself on Adam’s chest, hands digging into his shoulders. “And since you forgot to drop it off this morning, it won’t be clean by the time I need to get ready tomorrow, and so now I have to wear something else.”
“I’m sorry,” Kris says, genuinely. “Adam, really, I am.”
A hint of breath on Kris’s cheek, and the brush of a hand against his neck, and Kris shivers. “I know,” Adam says softly, and steps away. Kris lets his hands fall to his sides listlessly. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t owe me one. Which is why I treated myself today. And if I don’t say so myself, I have excellent taste.”
Kris feels a churning sort of mix of anticipation and trepidation in his stomach. “Okay,” he says cautiously.
“So,” Adam continues briskly, “your safe word, Kris. What is it?”
Kris swallows thickly, muscles tightening instinctively. “Laptop,” he says, a bit shakily.
“Good,” Adam purrs, and there are hands on his wrists again, pulling him forward gently. “Don’t be scared,” he says, sounding as intimidating as he possibly can, and Kris feels a burst of exasperation.
“I’m not scared,” he says, a touch of defiance, and the grip on his wrists tighten.
“No talking until I say so,” Adam says roughly, and grabs him by the base of his neck, pulling him forward without preamble. “Take your clothes off.”
Kris blinks, swaying in place as Adam’s hand falls away.
“Now,” Adam reminds him impatiently, voice from a completely different direction again, as startling as ever. Swallowing his retort, Kris plucks at his clothes jerkily, pulling them off as slowly as he dares to.
The cool air of the air conditioning prickles at his bare skin, but he kicks his clothes away determinedly, straightening his spine.
“Hands,” Adam commands, and Kris extends his arms obediently, palms up. He feels the familiar leather of the cuffs slide into place, tightening fractionally until they grip his wrists tightly. “Arms up.” From directly behind him now, a sudden shock of warm hands on his forearms, propelling them upwards. Kris acquiesces easily, feeling a tug on the chain linking the cuffs, pulling upward until they’re hooked on something, high above his head.
He wants to ask, because um wow, this is new, did Adam really install a hook in their bedroom ceiling, but he’s not supposed to talk. He’s just supposed to feel, that’s his job when they do this, that’s what Adam always tells him. Just stop thinking, just let yourself go, he always says, and that’s usually the hardest part, for Kris, but he tries. He really tries.
Hands on his ankles, pulling them apart, and Kris moves with them as best he can, unused to the odd sensation of sort-of hanging, unsure of letting whatever it is that’s holding the cuffs hold his full weight. There’s the small thread of unease that’s always present when Adam tries something unexpected or new, which is pretty much most of the time lately, but Kris pushes past it.
There’s what feels like the same type of leather cuffs that Adam uses on his wrists, only bigger and wider, wrapped around his left ankle, and the sound of metal against metal, and something long and blunt, pushing against the side of his foot. A hand on the inside of his knee, pulling his legs apart further, further, another cuff, some kind of bar pressing at the insides of his feet, holding them apart.
“Is this all right?” Adam asks, then a beat. “You can answer.”
“Um,” Kris says, swallowing, “yes.”
“It doesn’t hurt?”
He’s balanced on the balls of his feet, hanging from his wrists, wobbling precariously. The position forces his ass outwards, his head hanging down, arms pulled upwards and shoulders forced backwards. He can imagine what he must look like, blindfolded and pulled into an obscene display, and feels a rush of desire that leaves him dizzy.
“No,” he manages, “no, it doesn’t hurt.”
“Good,” Adam replies, voice rich with satisfaction.
Hands run up Kris’s calves slowly, the barest hint of fingernails, up his thighs, smoothing over his cheeks to his hips. Pulling sharply, Kris sways with the motion of Adam’s hands, hips pulled backwards, leg muscles straining as he attempts to keep his feet on the floor. A rush of air brushes over his hole, the spread eagle of his legs and the pull on his wrists forcing his back to arch, exposing it to the open air.
A shock of coldness makes him jerk in surprise, swinging forward, then back again. Adam laughs, grabbing his hip, holding him still. “Just lube,” he says, running his fingers down Kris’s crack, smearing his hole with the slick substance. Kris tries to push backwards into his hands as one finger slips inside, then two, but he has no leverage at all. All he can do is hang there while Adam works him open, quickly and efficiently.
The hand pulls away and in its place, something blunt and plastic, and Kris’s stomach jumps. Dildo, just a dildo, they’ve done this before, but it’s big, bigger than anything Adam’s used on him before, and he feels a small spike of fear.
“Stop it,” comes Adam’s voice sharply, the hand on Kris’s hip tightening in warning. “You can take it. Just breathe.”
Kris tries to obey, clamping down on his bottom lip, trying to force his muscles to relax. It only makes the push harder when it comes, impossibly huge, stretching him open. The position he’s in makes it impossible for him to shrink away, Adam’s hand holding him in place by his hip, legs anchored wide by the bar cutting off any mobility. The helplessness of the situation crashes down on him all at once and he moans, high and loud, muscles twitching in mild panic.
It does nothing to sway Adam, who cuts off all pretense of gentleness and shoves the dildo the rest of the way in in a quick motion, twisting it cruelly as Kris yelps at the intrusion.
“Well, that was embarrassing,” Adam says, voice moving away, cutting and sharp. Kris flushes, still focused on the dildo splitting him open, pulse jumping. Every movement of his body focuses his attention on it, just this side of uncomfortable, muscles clenching around it and sending little shockwaves through his nerves, knees shaking.
A sharp slap on one thigh elicits a surprised cry, and Adam tuts disapprovingly. “Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he chides, dragging his fingernails down the inside of Kris’s thigh. “You were probably thinking about this all day, weren’t you? Imagining what I’d do to you when you got home. What I had planned.”
“Yes,” Kris gasps, feeling his cock throb with every scratch of Adam’s fingers. At his voice, Adam pulls away abruptly and Kris remembers with a sickening drop of his stomach his order to stay silent.
“Very disappointing,” Adam says, voice somewhere over Kris’s left shoulder. “I can’t believe I have to resort to this…honestly, Kris.”
Kris flushes in shame, shaking, wanting to speak but keeping his mouth clamped shut.
“I could fuck you, I guess,” Adam says listlessly. “I don’t think you deserve it.” Kris twitches, clenching involuntarily around the dildo, ever present reminder of Adam’s disappointment. “Or I could let you hang there until you remember your place.”
Adam’s twisting words make Kris’s blood push hot, throbbing in his cock, muscles clenched tight.
“Look at this,” Adam says scornfully. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already aching for it.” A fierce grip at the base of his cock, and Kris gasps. “Do you know what that makes you?” A sharp tug propels Kris’s body forward, strangled groan tearing its way out of his throat. “Answer me.”
“I - I don’t - “
“A slut, Kris. God, I don’t even know what to do with you.” Adam releases his cock abruptly and Kris almost wants to cry. “You probably forgot the dry cleaning on purpose so I would have to do this, just because you want it so much. You think this is a game?”
“No,” Kris pushes out through a dry throat.
“It’s not a game,” Adam continues, ignoring him. “It’s not a fucking game, and I am not fucking amused.”
He’s so hard he’s aching, head spinning, every sensation somehow heightened by the deprivation of his sight. His arms aching, the clutch of the cuffs around his wrists and ankles, the brutal presence of the dildo, Adam’s sharp words, it all presses in on him until he can barely breathe for wanting. “Please. I’m sorry, please. Please, Adam.”
“No,” Adam says sharply, the rejection hitting Kris like a slap. “You’re going to stay there, and tell me what you did wrong, and why you did it. And if I like what I hear, I might let you go.”
Footsteps, and the clatter of something, and then the dildo starts, oh my God, vibrating, slow and steady, pulsing in a maddeningly slow rhythm. Kris groans, hips twitching in an instinctive plea for friction. A few too-short seconds and the vibrating stops, leaving a clawing desperation and helplessly twitching muscles.
“I don’t have all night, Kris,” Adam reminds him, and Kris lets a breath go he hadn't realized he was holding.
“I, um,” Kris starts, swallowing, trying to generate saliva in his dry mouth. “I forgot your suit.”
“Because?”
“Because I…” Kris trails off, unsure of what Adam wants from him. “Because I w-wanted you to fuck me. Punish me.”
The slow pulsing starts up again and Kris feels a rush of relief, cock twitching at the steady sensation.
“And I…talked when I shouldn’t have,” Kris continues, haltingly, pulse jumping in his throat. “Because I don’t listen.” The vibrating shuts off abruptly and Kris gasps in loss. “No, I mean. Because I don’t uh, respect you.” The dildo remains painfully still and Kris feels a crushing frustration. “I mean, I don’t know, I’m sorry. Because I wanted you to punish me more, I’m a slut, I wanted it harder, Adam. Adam.”
The vibration kicks in again abruptly, more intense than before, the pulsing faster. Kris gasps, heartened, grasping for more words, more of what Adam wants.
“And I didn’t um. The dildo, when you - “ Kris stammers, trying to find the sentence through the mass of sensation. “I wasn’t - grateful? I acted like I didn’t want it. But I did want it, and it was - disrespectful, because I should be thankful for anything you give me. Because um, I don’t deserve it.”
The vibration kicks up another notch, dragging a ragged groan from Kris, legs shaking, rattling the chains that attach him to the bar. He needs friction, he needs to move, needs - something, but all he can do is hang there, there’s nothing but air, nothing to rub or press against, just the vibration, nothing else.
“And I - I would let you do anything,” Kris continues, riding the wave of the pulses, chasing the edge, just out of his reach. “I would - you could do anything to me and I’d love it, in public, whatever, and I’d do it for anyone, because I’m a slut, oh my God - “ the vibration increases again, Kris’s voice riding up into a high squeak. “More. More, please, just a little more, Adam. Adam, please give me more. Just a little.”
Instead, the vibration reduces instantly at his words, moving down to the first slow, steady pulse, and Kris keens, breath releasing in short, sobbing bursts.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry, what do I do, please, Adam.”
Adam remains coldly silent and Kris sags, desperation clawing at him, making him tremble.
“Okay,” he says, swallowing, “okay. I - I begged. I wasn’t supposed to beg, I was supposed to, um. Talk about what I did wrong.” The vibration increases again, encouragingly, and Kris thrusts his hips into nothing, clenching around the pulsing dildo, trying in vain to get more stimulation. “Because I couldn’t follow directions, uh, I want it too much. Yeah.”
The vibration increases again and Kris lets out another heavy breath, muscles twitching involuntarily. “I need - I want it all the time, your cock, your mouth, fingers, I can’t help it. I’m just - I want - “ Kris stammers off into nothing, vibration ratcheting up harshly, sending shockwaves directly to his dick, achingly hard. He clenches around the dildo desperately, wanting it deeper, wanting more slam, thrust, push, needing it pressed against his prostate instead of just barely touching, an painful tease of vibration. “Hard,” he gasps, “Need it hard. God, Adam - “
A hand on his ribcage makes him jolt in nasty surprise, and Kris cries out in wordless distress as Adam grasps the dildo, pulling it out swiftly until just the blunt end is pressed against his hole, buzzing frantically.
“No,” he says through a moan, “no, no, please, Adam, ungh - “ He pushes backwards urgently with his hips, trying to thrust backwards onto it again, only managing to move fractionally, muscles straining.
A bruising grip on his hip, and then Adam pushes the dildo back in, a long, harsh thrust, hitting Kris’s prostate and setting off the chain reaction in a burst of sensation, the vibrations pushing him through a wrenching orgasm, every muscle clenching, high-pitched whimpers drawn from his throat with every throb of his cock, in rhythm to the unwavering pulse of the vibrator.
Kris comes back to earth trembling, Adam’s hand a sharp press of pain, the vibrator still buzzing, sending jolting aftershocks through his wrung-out body. Then, Adam’s hand disappears and he jerks, trying to follow, and seconds after, the pulses of the vibrator slow once more, the same soft, barely-there vibrations from before.
Adam’s hands, again, reaching up and releasing Kris’s cuffs from the ceiling, allowing his arms to fall down, and Kris groans in relief, tingles rushing up his arms where the circulation had been cut off.
Hands on his shoulders, and Kris leans into it, expecting a soothing touch but instead a hard push, pitching him forward, stumbling as the bar still locked between his ankles sends him sprawling on the floor, hands outstretched to catch himself but fumbling because of the cuffs, landing hard on his knees, scraping his hands on the carpet.
A hiss from Adam, and he’s pulled upward again, onto his knees, crying out at the painful stretch in his legs, still forced apart by the bar. The new position forces him to clench even tighter around the dildo, pressing uncomfortably inside him, the vibration hammering at his over stimulated flesh, the flared ends at the base jutting into his ass cheeks sharply.
“Mouth,” comes the command, Adam’s voice sounding scraped raw, the clink of a belt opening, faint rustling of material. Kris opens obediently, wincing as Adam’s hand grabs his jaw, forcing it wider.
Hand sliding around to the back of Kris’s head, Adam shoves his cock inside Kris’s mouth unceremoniously, a fast thrust, hitting the back of Kris’s throat. Kris chokes, trying to pull back reflexively but stopped by the unyielding grip of Adam’s hand, laced into the hair at the base of his skull, rings scraping his scalp.
“Take it,” Adam says roughly, pressing in wider, groaning as the head of his cock slides down Kris’s throat marginally. Eyes watering beneath the blindfold, he breathes in sharply through his nose, reaching out with his cuffed hands and grabbing Adam’s clothed knee, gripping the material with his fingers. Relaxing the muscles of his throat, Kris leans forward, taking Adam down until his lips reach the base, the press of testicles against his chin, scratchy hair against his face.
“Good boy,” Adam’s cooing, voice sounding far away. “Such a good boy, that’s it. Suck me, c’mon.” Kris hollows his cheeks, trying his best to obey, mouth stretched impossibly wide across Adam’s length, throat full and lips numb.
Pulling back, Adam keeps his hard grip on Kris’s head, sliding out and thrusting back in sharply. “Yes,” he hisses, starting a fast, uncompromising rhythm, cock hitting Kris’s throat on each thrust, saliva sliding down Kris’s chin, tears leaking out of his eyes and soaking the edges of the blindfold.
Kris concentrates on staying open, muscles relaxed, the assault from Adam’s cock overpowering. His body jerks with each thrust, fingers clenching in Adam’s jeans, the vibration from the dildo still an unwavering presence, the clench of his muscles around it uncomfortable and distracting. His knees, spread far apart on the carpet add to the discomfort, skin scratched and raw against the fibers.
Grunts and moans signal the approach of Adam’s orgasm, his thrusts increasing in intensity until his fingers clench painfully in Kris’s hair, sliding all the way in once more, pressing Kris’s face to his crotch as his cock pulses in Kris’s mouth, spilling his release down Kris’s throat.
Kris hollows his cheeks again, sucking on Adam’s dick, working him through the aftershocks, gripping Adam’s leg tightly, his own cock twitching again, the vibrations in his ass more noticeable than ever.
Adam finally releases Kris’s head, pulling out of his mouth with an ardent groan. Kris keeps the suction up, tasting the come on the head, trailing it across his taste buds as Adam pulls out.
A second later, and the blindfold is pulled off abruptly, and Kris squints at the sudden influx of light, eyes slamming shut in instinct. A warm hand on his cheek and he blinks haltingly, pupils adjusting, until he can see Adam looming above him, lazy grin on his face, cock hanging out of his pants, soft and glistening with come and saliva.
“Such a good boy,” Adam soothes, petting his face, rubbing at the tears on Kris’s cheeks. “My sweet, good boy. That’s it.” Bending down, he keeps one steadying hand on Kris’s shoulder, reaching back and unlocking the cuffs on Kris’s ankles one by one, grabbing the bar and tossing it out of the way. Pulling back, he grabs Kris’s wrist cuffs and pulls him to his feet, steadying him when he stumbles, feet tingling as the blood rushes back into them. “Okay?”
Kris nods shakily, licking his lips, tasting Adam on them. “Yes,” he says, voice gravelly and hoarse.
Adam smirks, pulling Kris by the cuffs to the bed, pushing him down face first. Each movement jolts the vibrator, still embedded in Kris’s ass, and he moans as he hits the bed, reaching up with his cuffed hands and grabbing the headboard, trying to pull himself into a position that doesn’t jolt the dildo anymore than necessary.
Adam watches him struggle with a smug smile, pulling his clothes off and climbing up on the bed next to him. “You did very well,” he says, rubbing at Kris’s knees, scraped raw from the carpet. “So gorgeous. Look at yourself, so pretty, Kris.”
Kris looks down at his own body shakily, seeing the harsh red marks on his knees, the imprints on his ankles from the cuffs, the hints of bruises forming on his hips. Reaching up with his bound hands, he rubs at his aching jaw, eyelids fluttering.
“Sore, I know,” Adam soothes. “Don’t talk for awhile, it’ll make it worse. Just relax. You did so good - so good, baby. You’re amazing.”
Kris feels a rush of pleasure at the praise, then holds up his cuffs plaintively. Adam chuckles.
“Leave those on,” he says. “This too.” He reaches back and adjusts the vibrator, pushing it in a little farther, the flared base pressed against Kris’s cheeks uncomfortably.
Kris moans, hips twitching, scrambling at the headboard with his cuffed hands.
“I know, I know. Here.” Adam rises from the bed and comes back a split second later with a small remote in his hands. Pressing a button, the vibrations cease, and he tosses it away, smoothing down Kris’s leg with one hand. “Better?”
Kris nearly collapses in relief. He nods thankfully.
Adam smiles warmly, turning him over onto his side, spooning up behind him, thigh pressing between his legs and against the base of the dildo, eliciting another weak groan from Kris. Hands on his arms, Adam presses his face to the back of Kris’s neck, breath hot and wet on his skin.
“You’ll get used to it,” he assures, reaching down with one hand and stroking Kris’s cock once, grip stuttering on the drying come, sticky on the skin of Kris’s cock and thighs. “We’ll take a break, get some rest. But we’re not done yet.”
Kris whimpers in protest, trying to inch away from Adam’s thigh, but is held tight.
“Stop it,” Adam says sternly. “I’ll turn it back on if you don’t.”
Kris’s entire body stills at the warning, and he nods, allowing Adam to pull him back against his thigh.
“Good boy,” Adam murmurs, pressing down the side of Kris’s ass cheek, emphasizing the uncomfortable press of the dildo. Kris’s breath stutters, and he clamps down on the urge to move, forcing himself to stay still. “Very good,” Adam says approvingly, moving his hand away, sliding it back around Kris’s body to lie on his chest.
Kris feels the overwhelming urge to fidget, his hole sore and stretched around the dildo, the plastic digging in uncomfortably, overpoweringly distracting. He concentrates on ignoring it, slowly forcing himself to relax into the pillows, cuffed hands lying against the comforter, next to his head.
“Try and sleep, baby,” Adam says softly, chest rumbling against Kris’s back.
Kris shivers, a little overwhelmed from both sensation and emotion, wrung-out and tired. “Love you,” he says, knowing he shouldn’t talk, risking it anyway.
“I love you too,” Adam answers, giving a little lick to Kris’s shoulder. “And I love when you forget the dry cleaning.”
Kris smiles sleepily, allowing the warmth of Adam’s body and the looming promise of more to pull him down into a light, satisfied doze.
Author: moirariordan
Fandom: american idol rpf
Pairings/Characters: kris allen/adam lambert
Rating: nc-17
Summary: porn. self-indulgent porn.
Warnings: bondage, humiliation, D/s, BDSM, light voyeurism. From a prompt at aianonlovefest: Kradam, established. Kris tied up and on a spreader bar. Adam doing whatever he wants to Kris, for however long he wants. Bonus points for lots of begging from Kris. So. You can imagine. Or just read it, I guess.
A text, in the middle of a midday meeting, makes Kris’s blood run hot and cold, all at once.
Dry cleaning?
“Shit,” he curses, fiercely under his breath. His assistant looks up, startled, and he blushes hotly, turning his face away. “Sorry. Nothing - it’s nothing. What were you saying?”
was late this morning, forgot, he sends in response, shivering, so so sorry. i’ll make it up to u?
yes you will, he gets back, a few extra long minutes later. Kris can’t concentrate for the rest of the day.
When he gets home, Kris enters cautiously, almost creeping across the living room, setting his keys down carefully on the table, chagrined at his own nervousness but unwilling to actually take the risk.
“Adam?” he calls, carefully. An answering reply comes from somewhere upstairs, and Kris shivers.
Adam is sitting at his desk, glasses perched delicately on the bridge of his nose, pouring over a stack of paperwork. “Hey baby,” he greets distractedly, “did you know that hiring a new publicist sucks hardcore? Because I do. Now.”
“Um,” Kris replies, peeking over Adam’s shoulder to peer at the contracts laid across the desk. “I did, actually. I told you not to fire what’s-her-name.”
“Brianna,” Adam supplies, “and she sucked hardcore too.” Shaking his head, he drops the papers with a small noise of disgust, turns his head up for a kiss. “Hi.”
“Hey,” Kris mumbles back, muffled by the soft press of Adam’s skin.
“How was your day?” Adam asks, reaching up with one hand to smooth down Kris’s collar. “You look tired.”
“Meetings,” Kris says, distracted and a bit taken aback, the tension and expectation from Adam’s earlier text itching beneath his skin in a steady, pulsing beat. “Um. I’m sorry I forgot to drop off your suit.”
Adam raises a single eyebrow. “Mmhmm,” he says steadily, tracing the line of Kris’s collarbone with his knuckles. “We’ll talk about that later. But now - are you hungry? I got Chinese.”
Kris blinks as Adam’s hand falls away, and he resists the urge to tip forward and follow it. “Uh - sure,” he says haltingly, and Adam smiles indulgently.
“Tea,” he says bluntly, narrowing his eyes.
“What?”
“You need tea,” Adam clarifies, and leads Kris back towards the stairs. “Special Adam Lambert recipe, guaranteed to wipe away any and all remnants of a long, boring, meeting-filled day.”
“Does this special Adam Lambert recipe involve pot?” Kris asks suspiciously.
“Kris,” Adam says emphatically, widening his eyes, “I’m not twenty-two anymore. Or twenty-five. Or twenty-seven. Jeez.”
The special Adam Lambert recipe does its work well, regardless of the distinct lack of marijuana, and with the added perk of a special Adam Lambert neck massage, Kris’s tension melts away magically. Adam even kills the lights and sets up the candles from the patio all around the living room, flipping on some music and humming along in a low, warm voice.
“I bought myself a present today,” he says, leaning down to nibble lazily at Kris’s shoulder, rubbing at the pressure points in Kris’s hands.
“Yeah?” Kris manages, despite the fact that he is now, in fact, a puddle of his former self.
“A few presents, actually,” Adam continues, “I wanna show you. Okay?”
“‘Kay,” Kris agrees, head tipping back onto Adam’s shoulder, eyes slipping shut languidly.
“Kristopher,” Adam intones, voice lifting at the edges with laugher, “don’t fall asleep on me. That would suck even more than hiring a publicist. Or firing a publicist.”
“‘m not asleep,” Kris protests, forcing his eyes open. “See?”
“Right,” Adam says, rising from the couch smoothly, pulling him up by an elbow. “C’mon.”
Adam leads him into the bedroom, pushing him down on the edge of the bed with one firm hand. Snagging a blue scarf from the night stand, he dangles it in front of Kris’s face. “Okay?”
Kris raises an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted to show me.”
“I am going to show you,” Adam replies, imitating the lilt of Kris's voice with a grin. “I just want it to be a surprise.” He smiles innocently.
Kris grumbles, but tips his head back obediently, allowing Adam to tie the scarf around his eyes, knotting it at the back of his head. He winces slightly as Adam pulls it a little too tight, and Adam brushes an apologetic hand down his cheek, adjusting it until it sits snugly across his eyes.
“This is what I love about this,” Adam says silkily. His voice is coming from somewhere above Kris’s head, and with his vision obscured, Kris feels a bit floaty, sense perception thrown out of whack. “It’s not about me, it’s about you, with this on,” Adam continues, and Kris feels the tap of a finger on the blindfold, right on the bridge of his nose. “It’s just about what you’re feeling, what you’re experiencing. Not about what I look like or what I’m doing. See?”
“Nope,” Kris quips, grinning as he feels Adam slide his hand down the side of his face, tracing the line of his chin.
“Smart ass,” Adam says fondly, and the hand pulls away. Kris feels its absence almost immediately.
He hears a strange sort of commotion to his right, and he cocks his head, trying to picture what Adam must be doing, but it’s useless. He thinks he can make out the sound of rustling material, the sheets of the bed, maybe? And some kind of clinking, like the sound of jewelry, but he can’t be sure.
“So,” Adam says, and his voice is startlingly close. Kris barely keeps himself from jumping at it. “That party is tomorrow night.”
Kris wracks his brain, trying to remember details, and fails. “Oh?” he settles on, knowing Adam will see through it.
“You forgot that too, huh,” he says, and his voice is a bit different on that, not colder, but not as warm and fond as it’d been before, earlier. “You are such a guy sometimes.”
“I’m sorry,” Kris says sheepishly. “If it makes you feel any better I forget important things about my life even more.”
“Not really,” Adam comments easily, voice coming from a different direction, now, and Kris startles again slightly. “The party,” he continues pointedly, “is very important to me; it’s at Drew Barrymore’s house, and I’m supposed to be singing. At Drew Barrymore’s house, Kris. I love her.”
“And…I’m happy for you?” Kris attempts, hearing Adam sigh, in frustration, disappointment, he can’t tell.
“I was going to wear that suit,” Adam says flatly.
“Oh,” Kris says, skin breaking out into goose bumps.
“Yeah, oh.” Adam’s hands grasp Kris’s wrists, pulling him to his feet in one swift motion. Kris stumbles slightly, thrown off by the blindfold, and ends up steadying himself on Adam’s chest, hands digging into his shoulders. “And since you forgot to drop it off this morning, it won’t be clean by the time I need to get ready tomorrow, and so now I have to wear something else.”
“I’m sorry,” Kris says, genuinely. “Adam, really, I am.”
A hint of breath on Kris’s cheek, and the brush of a hand against his neck, and Kris shivers. “I know,” Adam says softly, and steps away. Kris lets his hands fall to his sides listlessly. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t owe me one. Which is why I treated myself today. And if I don’t say so myself, I have excellent taste.”
Kris feels a churning sort of mix of anticipation and trepidation in his stomach. “Okay,” he says cautiously.
“So,” Adam continues briskly, “your safe word, Kris. What is it?”
Kris swallows thickly, muscles tightening instinctively. “Laptop,” he says, a bit shakily.
“Good,” Adam purrs, and there are hands on his wrists again, pulling him forward gently. “Don’t be scared,” he says, sounding as intimidating as he possibly can, and Kris feels a burst of exasperation.
“I’m not scared,” he says, a touch of defiance, and the grip on his wrists tighten.
“No talking until I say so,” Adam says roughly, and grabs him by the base of his neck, pulling him forward without preamble. “Take your clothes off.”
Kris blinks, swaying in place as Adam’s hand falls away.
“Now,” Adam reminds him impatiently, voice from a completely different direction again, as startling as ever. Swallowing his retort, Kris plucks at his clothes jerkily, pulling them off as slowly as he dares to.
The cool air of the air conditioning prickles at his bare skin, but he kicks his clothes away determinedly, straightening his spine.
“Hands,” Adam commands, and Kris extends his arms obediently, palms up. He feels the familiar leather of the cuffs slide into place, tightening fractionally until they grip his wrists tightly. “Arms up.” From directly behind him now, a sudden shock of warm hands on his forearms, propelling them upwards. Kris acquiesces easily, feeling a tug on the chain linking the cuffs, pulling upward until they’re hooked on something, high above his head.
He wants to ask, because um wow, this is new, did Adam really install a hook in their bedroom ceiling, but he’s not supposed to talk. He’s just supposed to feel, that’s his job when they do this, that’s what Adam always tells him. Just stop thinking, just let yourself go, he always says, and that’s usually the hardest part, for Kris, but he tries. He really tries.
Hands on his ankles, pulling them apart, and Kris moves with them as best he can, unused to the odd sensation of sort-of hanging, unsure of letting whatever it is that’s holding the cuffs hold his full weight. There’s the small thread of unease that’s always present when Adam tries something unexpected or new, which is pretty much most of the time lately, but Kris pushes past it.
There’s what feels like the same type of leather cuffs that Adam uses on his wrists, only bigger and wider, wrapped around his left ankle, and the sound of metal against metal, and something long and blunt, pushing against the side of his foot. A hand on the inside of his knee, pulling his legs apart further, further, another cuff, some kind of bar pressing at the insides of his feet, holding them apart.
“Is this all right?” Adam asks, then a beat. “You can answer.”
“Um,” Kris says, swallowing, “yes.”
“It doesn’t hurt?”
He’s balanced on the balls of his feet, hanging from his wrists, wobbling precariously. The position forces his ass outwards, his head hanging down, arms pulled upwards and shoulders forced backwards. He can imagine what he must look like, blindfolded and pulled into an obscene display, and feels a rush of desire that leaves him dizzy.
“No,” he manages, “no, it doesn’t hurt.”
“Good,” Adam replies, voice rich with satisfaction.
Hands run up Kris’s calves slowly, the barest hint of fingernails, up his thighs, smoothing over his cheeks to his hips. Pulling sharply, Kris sways with the motion of Adam’s hands, hips pulled backwards, leg muscles straining as he attempts to keep his feet on the floor. A rush of air brushes over his hole, the spread eagle of his legs and the pull on his wrists forcing his back to arch, exposing it to the open air.
A shock of coldness makes him jerk in surprise, swinging forward, then back again. Adam laughs, grabbing his hip, holding him still. “Just lube,” he says, running his fingers down Kris’s crack, smearing his hole with the slick substance. Kris tries to push backwards into his hands as one finger slips inside, then two, but he has no leverage at all. All he can do is hang there while Adam works him open, quickly and efficiently.
The hand pulls away and in its place, something blunt and plastic, and Kris’s stomach jumps. Dildo, just a dildo, they’ve done this before, but it’s big, bigger than anything Adam’s used on him before, and he feels a small spike of fear.
“Stop it,” comes Adam’s voice sharply, the hand on Kris’s hip tightening in warning. “You can take it. Just breathe.”
Kris tries to obey, clamping down on his bottom lip, trying to force his muscles to relax. It only makes the push harder when it comes, impossibly huge, stretching him open. The position he’s in makes it impossible for him to shrink away, Adam’s hand holding him in place by his hip, legs anchored wide by the bar cutting off any mobility. The helplessness of the situation crashes down on him all at once and he moans, high and loud, muscles twitching in mild panic.
It does nothing to sway Adam, who cuts off all pretense of gentleness and shoves the dildo the rest of the way in in a quick motion, twisting it cruelly as Kris yelps at the intrusion.
“Well, that was embarrassing,” Adam says, voice moving away, cutting and sharp. Kris flushes, still focused on the dildo splitting him open, pulse jumping. Every movement of his body focuses his attention on it, just this side of uncomfortable, muscles clenching around it and sending little shockwaves through his nerves, knees shaking.
A sharp slap on one thigh elicits a surprised cry, and Adam tuts disapprovingly. “Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he chides, dragging his fingernails down the inside of Kris’s thigh. “You were probably thinking about this all day, weren’t you? Imagining what I’d do to you when you got home. What I had planned.”
“Yes,” Kris gasps, feeling his cock throb with every scratch of Adam’s fingers. At his voice, Adam pulls away abruptly and Kris remembers with a sickening drop of his stomach his order to stay silent.
“Very disappointing,” Adam says, voice somewhere over Kris’s left shoulder. “I can’t believe I have to resort to this…honestly, Kris.”
Kris flushes in shame, shaking, wanting to speak but keeping his mouth clamped shut.
“I could fuck you, I guess,” Adam says listlessly. “I don’t think you deserve it.” Kris twitches, clenching involuntarily around the dildo, ever present reminder of Adam’s disappointment. “Or I could let you hang there until you remember your place.”
Adam’s twisting words make Kris’s blood push hot, throbbing in his cock, muscles clenched tight.
“Look at this,” Adam says scornfully. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already aching for it.” A fierce grip at the base of his cock, and Kris gasps. “Do you know what that makes you?” A sharp tug propels Kris’s body forward, strangled groan tearing its way out of his throat. “Answer me.”
“I - I don’t - “
“A slut, Kris. God, I don’t even know what to do with you.” Adam releases his cock abruptly and Kris almost wants to cry. “You probably forgot the dry cleaning on purpose so I would have to do this, just because you want it so much. You think this is a game?”
“No,” Kris pushes out through a dry throat.
“It’s not a game,” Adam continues, ignoring him. “It’s not a fucking game, and I am not fucking amused.”
He’s so hard he’s aching, head spinning, every sensation somehow heightened by the deprivation of his sight. His arms aching, the clutch of the cuffs around his wrists and ankles, the brutal presence of the dildo, Adam’s sharp words, it all presses in on him until he can barely breathe for wanting. “Please. I’m sorry, please. Please, Adam.”
“No,” Adam says sharply, the rejection hitting Kris like a slap. “You’re going to stay there, and tell me what you did wrong, and why you did it. And if I like what I hear, I might let you go.”
Footsteps, and the clatter of something, and then the dildo starts, oh my God, vibrating, slow and steady, pulsing in a maddeningly slow rhythm. Kris groans, hips twitching in an instinctive plea for friction. A few too-short seconds and the vibrating stops, leaving a clawing desperation and helplessly twitching muscles.
“I don’t have all night, Kris,” Adam reminds him, and Kris lets a breath go he hadn't realized he was holding.
“I, um,” Kris starts, swallowing, trying to generate saliva in his dry mouth. “I forgot your suit.”
“Because?”
“Because I…” Kris trails off, unsure of what Adam wants from him. “Because I w-wanted you to fuck me. Punish me.”
The slow pulsing starts up again and Kris feels a rush of relief, cock twitching at the steady sensation.
“And I…talked when I shouldn’t have,” Kris continues, haltingly, pulse jumping in his throat. “Because I don’t listen.” The vibrating shuts off abruptly and Kris gasps in loss. “No, I mean. Because I don’t uh, respect you.” The dildo remains painfully still and Kris feels a crushing frustration. “I mean, I don’t know, I’m sorry. Because I wanted you to punish me more, I’m a slut, I wanted it harder, Adam. Adam.”
The vibration kicks in again abruptly, more intense than before, the pulsing faster. Kris gasps, heartened, grasping for more words, more of what Adam wants.
“And I didn’t um. The dildo, when you - “ Kris stammers, trying to find the sentence through the mass of sensation. “I wasn’t - grateful? I acted like I didn’t want it. But I did want it, and it was - disrespectful, because I should be thankful for anything you give me. Because um, I don’t deserve it.”
The vibration kicks up another notch, dragging a ragged groan from Kris, legs shaking, rattling the chains that attach him to the bar. He needs friction, he needs to move, needs - something, but all he can do is hang there, there’s nothing but air, nothing to rub or press against, just the vibration, nothing else.
“And I - I would let you do anything,” Kris continues, riding the wave of the pulses, chasing the edge, just out of his reach. “I would - you could do anything to me and I’d love it, in public, whatever, and I’d do it for anyone, because I’m a slut, oh my God - “ the vibration increases again, Kris’s voice riding up into a high squeak. “More. More, please, just a little more, Adam. Adam, please give me more. Just a little.”
Instead, the vibration reduces instantly at his words, moving down to the first slow, steady pulse, and Kris keens, breath releasing in short, sobbing bursts.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry, what do I do, please, Adam.”
Adam remains coldly silent and Kris sags, desperation clawing at him, making him tremble.
“Okay,” he says, swallowing, “okay. I - I begged. I wasn’t supposed to beg, I was supposed to, um. Talk about what I did wrong.” The vibration increases again, encouragingly, and Kris thrusts his hips into nothing, clenching around the pulsing dildo, trying in vain to get more stimulation. “Because I couldn’t follow directions, uh, I want it too much. Yeah.”
The vibration increases again and Kris lets out another heavy breath, muscles twitching involuntarily. “I need - I want it all the time, your cock, your mouth, fingers, I can’t help it. I’m just - I want - “ Kris stammers off into nothing, vibration ratcheting up harshly, sending shockwaves directly to his dick, achingly hard. He clenches around the dildo desperately, wanting it deeper, wanting more slam, thrust, push, needing it pressed against his prostate instead of just barely touching, an painful tease of vibration. “Hard,” he gasps, “Need it hard. God, Adam - “
A hand on his ribcage makes him jolt in nasty surprise, and Kris cries out in wordless distress as Adam grasps the dildo, pulling it out swiftly until just the blunt end is pressed against his hole, buzzing frantically.
“No,” he says through a moan, “no, no, please, Adam, ungh - “ He pushes backwards urgently with his hips, trying to thrust backwards onto it again, only managing to move fractionally, muscles straining.
A bruising grip on his hip, and then Adam pushes the dildo back in, a long, harsh thrust, hitting Kris’s prostate and setting off the chain reaction in a burst of sensation, the vibrations pushing him through a wrenching orgasm, every muscle clenching, high-pitched whimpers drawn from his throat with every throb of his cock, in rhythm to the unwavering pulse of the vibrator.
Kris comes back to earth trembling, Adam’s hand a sharp press of pain, the vibrator still buzzing, sending jolting aftershocks through his wrung-out body. Then, Adam’s hand disappears and he jerks, trying to follow, and seconds after, the pulses of the vibrator slow once more, the same soft, barely-there vibrations from before.
Adam’s hands, again, reaching up and releasing Kris’s cuffs from the ceiling, allowing his arms to fall down, and Kris groans in relief, tingles rushing up his arms where the circulation had been cut off.
Hands on his shoulders, and Kris leans into it, expecting a soothing touch but instead a hard push, pitching him forward, stumbling as the bar still locked between his ankles sends him sprawling on the floor, hands outstretched to catch himself but fumbling because of the cuffs, landing hard on his knees, scraping his hands on the carpet.
A hiss from Adam, and he’s pulled upward again, onto his knees, crying out at the painful stretch in his legs, still forced apart by the bar. The new position forces him to clench even tighter around the dildo, pressing uncomfortably inside him, the vibration hammering at his over stimulated flesh, the flared ends at the base jutting into his ass cheeks sharply.
“Mouth,” comes the command, Adam’s voice sounding scraped raw, the clink of a belt opening, faint rustling of material. Kris opens obediently, wincing as Adam’s hand grabs his jaw, forcing it wider.
Hand sliding around to the back of Kris’s head, Adam shoves his cock inside Kris’s mouth unceremoniously, a fast thrust, hitting the back of Kris’s throat. Kris chokes, trying to pull back reflexively but stopped by the unyielding grip of Adam’s hand, laced into the hair at the base of his skull, rings scraping his scalp.
“Take it,” Adam says roughly, pressing in wider, groaning as the head of his cock slides down Kris’s throat marginally. Eyes watering beneath the blindfold, he breathes in sharply through his nose, reaching out with his cuffed hands and grabbing Adam’s clothed knee, gripping the material with his fingers. Relaxing the muscles of his throat, Kris leans forward, taking Adam down until his lips reach the base, the press of testicles against his chin, scratchy hair against his face.
“Good boy,” Adam’s cooing, voice sounding far away. “Such a good boy, that’s it. Suck me, c’mon.” Kris hollows his cheeks, trying his best to obey, mouth stretched impossibly wide across Adam’s length, throat full and lips numb.
Pulling back, Adam keeps his hard grip on Kris’s head, sliding out and thrusting back in sharply. “Yes,” he hisses, starting a fast, uncompromising rhythm, cock hitting Kris’s throat on each thrust, saliva sliding down Kris’s chin, tears leaking out of his eyes and soaking the edges of the blindfold.
Kris concentrates on staying open, muscles relaxed, the assault from Adam’s cock overpowering. His body jerks with each thrust, fingers clenching in Adam’s jeans, the vibration from the dildo still an unwavering presence, the clench of his muscles around it uncomfortable and distracting. His knees, spread far apart on the carpet add to the discomfort, skin scratched and raw against the fibers.
Grunts and moans signal the approach of Adam’s orgasm, his thrusts increasing in intensity until his fingers clench painfully in Kris’s hair, sliding all the way in once more, pressing Kris’s face to his crotch as his cock pulses in Kris’s mouth, spilling his release down Kris’s throat.
Kris hollows his cheeks again, sucking on Adam’s dick, working him through the aftershocks, gripping Adam’s leg tightly, his own cock twitching again, the vibrations in his ass more noticeable than ever.
Adam finally releases Kris’s head, pulling out of his mouth with an ardent groan. Kris keeps the suction up, tasting the come on the head, trailing it across his taste buds as Adam pulls out.
A second later, and the blindfold is pulled off abruptly, and Kris squints at the sudden influx of light, eyes slamming shut in instinct. A warm hand on his cheek and he blinks haltingly, pupils adjusting, until he can see Adam looming above him, lazy grin on his face, cock hanging out of his pants, soft and glistening with come and saliva.
“Such a good boy,” Adam soothes, petting his face, rubbing at the tears on Kris’s cheeks. “My sweet, good boy. That’s it.” Bending down, he keeps one steadying hand on Kris’s shoulder, reaching back and unlocking the cuffs on Kris’s ankles one by one, grabbing the bar and tossing it out of the way. Pulling back, he grabs Kris’s wrist cuffs and pulls him to his feet, steadying him when he stumbles, feet tingling as the blood rushes back into them. “Okay?”
Kris nods shakily, licking his lips, tasting Adam on them. “Yes,” he says, voice gravelly and hoarse.
Adam smirks, pulling Kris by the cuffs to the bed, pushing him down face first. Each movement jolts the vibrator, still embedded in Kris’s ass, and he moans as he hits the bed, reaching up with his cuffed hands and grabbing the headboard, trying to pull himself into a position that doesn’t jolt the dildo anymore than necessary.
Adam watches him struggle with a smug smile, pulling his clothes off and climbing up on the bed next to him. “You did very well,” he says, rubbing at Kris’s knees, scraped raw from the carpet. “So gorgeous. Look at yourself, so pretty, Kris.”
Kris looks down at his own body shakily, seeing the harsh red marks on his knees, the imprints on his ankles from the cuffs, the hints of bruises forming on his hips. Reaching up with his bound hands, he rubs at his aching jaw, eyelids fluttering.
“Sore, I know,” Adam soothes. “Don’t talk for awhile, it’ll make it worse. Just relax. You did so good - so good, baby. You’re amazing.”
Kris feels a rush of pleasure at the praise, then holds up his cuffs plaintively. Adam chuckles.
“Leave those on,” he says. “This too.” He reaches back and adjusts the vibrator, pushing it in a little farther, the flared base pressed against Kris’s cheeks uncomfortably.
Kris moans, hips twitching, scrambling at the headboard with his cuffed hands.
“I know, I know. Here.” Adam rises from the bed and comes back a split second later with a small remote in his hands. Pressing a button, the vibrations cease, and he tosses it away, smoothing down Kris’s leg with one hand. “Better?”
Kris nearly collapses in relief. He nods thankfully.
Adam smiles warmly, turning him over onto his side, spooning up behind him, thigh pressing between his legs and against the base of the dildo, eliciting another weak groan from Kris. Hands on his arms, Adam presses his face to the back of Kris’s neck, breath hot and wet on his skin.
“You’ll get used to it,” he assures, reaching down with one hand and stroking Kris’s cock once, grip stuttering on the drying come, sticky on the skin of Kris’s cock and thighs. “We’ll take a break, get some rest. But we’re not done yet.”
Kris whimpers in protest, trying to inch away from Adam’s thigh, but is held tight.
“Stop it,” Adam says sternly. “I’ll turn it back on if you don’t.”
Kris’s entire body stills at the warning, and he nods, allowing Adam to pull him back against his thigh.
“Good boy,” Adam murmurs, pressing down the side of Kris’s ass cheek, emphasizing the uncomfortable press of the dildo. Kris’s breath stutters, and he clamps down on the urge to move, forcing himself to stay still. “Very good,” Adam says approvingly, moving his hand away, sliding it back around Kris’s body to lie on his chest.
Kris feels the overwhelming urge to fidget, his hole sore and stretched around the dildo, the plastic digging in uncomfortably, overpoweringly distracting. He concentrates on ignoring it, slowly forcing himself to relax into the pillows, cuffed hands lying against the comforter, next to his head.
“Try and sleep, baby,” Adam says softly, chest rumbling against Kris’s back.
Kris shivers, a little overwhelmed from both sensation and emotion, wrung-out and tired. “Love you,” he says, knowing he shouldn’t talk, risking it anyway.
“I love you too,” Adam answers, giving a little lick to Kris’s shoulder. “And I love when you forget the dry cleaning.”
Kris smiles sleepily, allowing the warmth of Adam’s body and the looming promise of more to pull him down into a light, satisfied doze.