this togethercoloured instant (Idol RPF, Adam/Kris/Katy, R)
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. I don't even have a number. If you got here by googling your name, there's a back button. Or take inspiration. IDC. Title and poem threaded throughout by ee cummings. (Title from "sometimes i am alive because with" and other from "somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond")
Summary: Adam wants to feel: himself, them all, together.
AN: So zorabet and I are fucking crazy and have a Kradamaty verse now? I don't know, man. Um. This stands on it's own fairly well...future fic. Adam's been in a major car accident, Kris and Katy are taking care of him, that's all you vaguely need to know, but it doesn't matter much. I'm gonna call it a hard R, because there is some descriptive sex in it, but I don't think it's that explict? Also, this is the first time I've written semi-porn in like two or three years and I decide to try it with a fucking threesome. oh. This is also quite likely an experimental syntax mess. I'm playing around so feedback is WAY WAY WAY appreciated, please.
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
The pain in his leg is really just a dull throb at this point, but that’s almost worse, how the feeling never quite reaches the surface. He grunts in frustration, trying to make it build, goading it but it just sit sit sits. He wants to cry but-
But he doesn’t. Kris Kris Kris he chants to his right (immediate right, have to specify now), he thinks in his head but maybe out loud because:
Kris grabs his hand, and he squeezes hard. It reaches to his bones. He sob-cry-laughs in relief or something mangled like hope breaking through. Kris slides down, fumbling to get the sweats off without jostling Adam’s leg. Adam wishes he would, but doesn’t say. Kris would hate that.
(The air on his legs is cool and he can feel his skin prickling.)
The mattress creaks as Katy crawls over. He didn’t know she was awake, but he isn’t surprised. He props himself on his elbows, leaning up as she slides up behind him, all silky smooth legs against his side and cool bare breast against the bones of his back-
and Kris’ mouth against him still, open and wet and early morning chapped-raw against his thigh, inches away from an infantile scar
and Katy’s hand splayed across his chest, small but firm, working his nipple between thumb and forefinger. His eyes are closed but he thinks to himself the chips in her nail polish and then
he sink sink sinks, against Katy, below Kris, between them both and away away away from Arkansas, down the rabbit hole.
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
Kris goes slowly, because Adam likes to feel it, let it spread to the tips. He can’t do it by himself (fuck what can he?) but add Kris’ mouth multiplied by the caress of Katy’s hand over the total sum of their parts and he’s upside down inside out can’t tell the difference or isn’t trying.
Kris mouths up his thigh, eyelashes like butterflies, sending sparks shooting up and down and out. He lets it fill him up, stretch stretch stretch him out until he’s everywhere. So slowly that he barely expects it but has been waiting for it, all at once, Kris brings a hand up to Adam’s dick, tracing so gently Adam hurts with more more more:
(He stretch stretch stretches all the way til his head is pressed tight against Katy’s chest. He fold fold folds into her. She is soft like falling into heaven.
Her fingers trace down his jawline, neck, skating softly across his skin: the want aches.)
He is rocking up and tilting back: kiss, he breathes-says-thinks-lives.
Almost instantaneously (though that kind of timing is only a vaguely sort of possible, he thinks if it can happen at all, it would happen in their twilight zone), Katy mashes her lips against his, hard, and Kris breathes out a burst of hot air over his erection like a blessing before tonguing up and swiping rough.
He cries out-out of Kris, into Katy-like feeling.
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
He is break break breaking, exploding and shattering and motherfucking fireworking into thousands of molecules of stardust under the rhythmic swirling of Kris’ tongue.
(yes yes yes YES fuck yes yes yes oh yes.)
He is healing like sunset, smooth and whole and strong, he can feel his own muscles building and tensing and constricting, hard against Katy’s roaming hands. He lets out a moan as her lips suck at a spot below his jaw.
(baby baby yes baby fuck.)
His splits his attention and lets it converge again: it build build builds. Kris’ closes over him, katy’s hand pressed tight against his heart and oh
rendering death and forever with each breathing
yes Oh, like choirs of angels reaching a crescendo or maybe actually cacophony but it’s sort of beautiful anyway.
Yes. Reaching into forever. Yes. Launching and bending and breaking and falling back again. Yes. Being caught.
Kris works slow but rough and Katy soothes in sharp whispers and Adam feels: soft and hard and ache and good braided tight. He twists his hands in the blonde and brown and then he is gone and there together.
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
Afterwards they are a mess.
Like dominos: Adam is still cradled against Katy, head lolling against her should as she brushes back sweat matted hair where the blood used to be. Kris has moved up and to the right, mindful of Adam’s bad leg, but grounding him with his head against Adam’s chest, counting the rise and fall.
He links his hands with both of theirs, fingers threading tight like in a tapestry.
They all breathe.
Summary: Adam wants to feel: himself, them all, together.
AN: So zorabet and I are fucking crazy and have a Kradamaty verse now? I don't know, man. Um. This stands on it's own fairly well...future fic. Adam's been in a major car accident, Kris and Katy are taking care of him, that's all you vaguely need to know, but it doesn't matter much. I'm gonna call it a hard R, because there is some descriptive sex in it, but I don't think it's that explict? Also, this is the first time I've written semi-porn in like two or three years and I decide to try it with a fucking threesome. oh. This is also quite likely an experimental syntax mess. I'm playing around so feedback is WAY WAY WAY appreciated, please.
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
The pain in his leg is really just a dull throb at this point, but that’s almost worse, how the feeling never quite reaches the surface. He grunts in frustration, trying to make it build, goading it but it just sit sit sits. He wants to cry but-
But he doesn’t. Kris Kris Kris he chants to his right (immediate right, have to specify now), he thinks in his head but maybe out loud because:
Kris grabs his hand, and he squeezes hard. It reaches to his bones. He sob-cry-laughs in relief or something mangled like hope breaking through. Kris slides down, fumbling to get the sweats off without jostling Adam’s leg. Adam wishes he would, but doesn’t say. Kris would hate that.
(The air on his legs is cool and he can feel his skin prickling.)
The mattress creaks as Katy crawls over. He didn’t know she was awake, but he isn’t surprised. He props himself on his elbows, leaning up as she slides up behind him, all silky smooth legs against his side and cool bare breast against the bones of his back-
and Kris’ mouth against him still, open and wet and early morning chapped-raw against his thigh, inches away from an infantile scar
and Katy’s hand splayed across his chest, small but firm, working his nipple between thumb and forefinger. His eyes are closed but he thinks to himself the chips in her nail polish and then
he sink sink sinks, against Katy, below Kris, between them both and away away away from Arkansas, down the rabbit hole.
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
Kris goes slowly, because Adam likes to feel it, let it spread to the tips. He can’t do it by himself (fuck what can he?) but add Kris’ mouth multiplied by the caress of Katy’s hand over the total sum of their parts and he’s upside down inside out can’t tell the difference or isn’t trying.
Kris mouths up his thigh, eyelashes like butterflies, sending sparks shooting up and down and out. He lets it fill him up, stretch stretch stretch him out until he’s everywhere. So slowly that he barely expects it but has been waiting for it, all at once, Kris brings a hand up to Adam’s dick, tracing so gently Adam hurts with more more more:
(He stretch stretch stretches all the way til his head is pressed tight against Katy’s chest. He fold fold folds into her. She is soft like falling into heaven.
Her fingers trace down his jawline, neck, skating softly across his skin: the want aches.)
He is rocking up and tilting back: kiss, he breathes-says-thinks-lives.
Almost instantaneously (though that kind of timing is only a vaguely sort of possible, he thinks if it can happen at all, it would happen in their twilight zone), Katy mashes her lips against his, hard, and Kris breathes out a burst of hot air over his erection like a blessing before tonguing up and swiping rough.
He cries out-out of Kris, into Katy-like feeling.
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
He is break break breaking, exploding and shattering and motherfucking fireworking into thousands of molecules of stardust under the rhythmic swirling of Kris’ tongue.
(yes yes yes YES fuck yes yes yes oh yes.)
He is healing like sunset, smooth and whole and strong, he can feel his own muscles building and tensing and constricting, hard against Katy’s roaming hands. He lets out a moan as her lips suck at a spot below his jaw.
(baby baby yes baby fuck.)
His splits his attention and lets it converge again: it build build builds. Kris’ closes over him, katy’s hand pressed tight against his heart and oh
rendering death and forever with each breathing
yes Oh, like choirs of angels reaching a crescendo or maybe actually cacophony but it’s sort of beautiful anyway.
Yes. Reaching into forever. Yes. Launching and bending and breaking and falling back again. Yes. Being caught.
Kris works slow but rough and Katy soothes in sharp whispers and Adam feels: soft and hard and ache and good braided tight. He twists his hands in the blonde and brown and then he is gone and there together.
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
Afterwards they are a mess.
Like dominos: Adam is still cradled against Katy, head lolling against her should as she brushes back sweat matted hair where the blood used to be. Kris has moved up and to the right, mindful of Adam’s bad leg, but grounding him with his head against Adam’s chest, counting the rise and fall.
He links his hands with both of theirs, fingers threading tight like in a tapestry.
They all breathe.