Fic: Stephen, Part II, Chapter 8: The End 1/2 Kris/Adam, AI8, NC-17
Title: Stephen, Part II, Chapter 8
Author: amproof
Pairing: Adam/Stephen, Adam/Kris, OMC/Stephen
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word count: 11,000
Warnings: High possibility of triggering content. Non-AU sexual slavery (Kris) and requisite abuse: physical, mental, sexual, mainly in flashbacks. PTSD, brainwashing. This chapter: abuse in flashback.
Genres: angst, hurt/comfort, healing/recovery, amnesia, mystery
Betas: brimtoast.
Notes: This is revised from my story on aianonlovefest, which was inspired by a prompt on ai_kinkmeme for rescued sex slave Kris.
Summary: Kris has been missing for three years. When Adam finds him, he's not the person he used to be. In fact, he doesn't know who he used to be.
Previously: Part I
Chapters 1-5, 6-8, 9-10
Part II
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7
Poster by katekat1010
Within a few days, it became apparent that the re-naming ceremony was going to take more time than they'd thought to organize. Turned out that finding a pastor to perform a slightly New Age ceremony who was not only willing but also qualified (i.e. able to pass Brad's series of tests that Kris couldn't begin to understand and quickly gave up trying to figure out) took longer than expected. In the meantime, Kim and Neil were comfortably situated in the guest room at night and making themselves at home during the day: Kim, by reorganizing Adam's laundry room and Neil by building shelves in the garage. Daniel and Christina became regular fixtures around the house, as did Brad, though he spent most of his time in the backyard managing the workers he had brought with him. Adam handed over his credit card, gave a warning look to Brad, and didn't ask any questions.
Kris had a witness advocate from the district attorney's office assigned to him. Her name was Ms. Turner, and her job was to keep him informed of court proceedings and his rights throughout. On her first call, in the same breath with which she introduced herself, she told him that Smith had been arraigned two days before. Kris did a quick calculation and realized that while he had been sitting in a doctor's office having blood drawn, Smith had been in front of a judge. It seemed like an appropriate metaphor. Kris looked over at Adam, who was loading the dishwasher, to see if he was listening. Someone (either his mother or Adam) had realized that Kris hadn't had a complete physical since his return, so he and Adam had both gone for one at Adam's fancy doctor and gotten STD screens as well. Kris had been nervous that Smith might have given him a phobia of doctors, but it had been fine. It had helped that the doctor was a woman and about twenty years younger than Smith.
"He's charged with kidnapping with rape for now," Ms. Turner said. "There may be more charges added at a second arraignment after the Preliminary Hearing."
"He did more than that," Kris said. "That can't be all." He knew he was clutching the phone too tightly. His palms were sweating. He tried to relax his grip so it wouldn't fly out of his hand.
"That charge carries a life sentence." Ms. Turner had a soothing voice, but not in a patronizing way. "He's leveled with the same charge against the seventeen-year-old victim, too. Right now it looks like they'll be dealing with your cases separately. Are you aware of your rights as a victim?"
She took his silence as a no and advised him to read an online pamphlet. Then she explained how she would help keep him informed of court dates, including the ones he would not be allowed to attend, and decisions made regarding litigation. She concluded by telling him that she could only do so much and, considering the complicated nature of his case, he should hire a lawyer who could better guide him through the process.
"He's in jail now, right?" Kris asked. He needed a second to let the tide of information settle. He thought she could hear it in his voice because she did pause before answering.
"He's been placed under house arrest."
"What?" He blinked, as if she could see his disbelief. "I don't understand. He's...he's free?"
Adam looked up from arranging glasses on the top rack and mouthed, 'What?' Kris gestured him over and turned the phone to share the conversation with him.
"It's standard in California," Ms. Turner was saying. "Jails are overcrowded, so the accused are often fitted with ankle bracelets and returned home. He is under constant surveillance. If he steps off his stoop, an alarm goes off and the entire LAPD will be at his door."
"He's not in jail," Kris said. He was shaking so much that Adam took the phone. When he tried to put his arm around Kris's shoulders, Kris shrugged it off. Adam whispered to him, but Kris kept his head down, so Adam put the phone to Kris's ear and hunched down so he could hear too.
"I know what this must seem like, Mr. Allen," Ms. Turner said, "but try to remember that this is the start of a very long process. It's important that you have support at this time. Do you have that?"
Kris felt Adam next to him and nodded. Even if he didn't want to be touched, Adam was still there.
"Yes," Adam said, answering for him.
"Mr. Lambert?"
"Yeah."
"I've advised Mr. Allen that he may wish to hire a lawyer to help him through this process."
"O.K."
"In a few days, someone from the D.A.'s office will be in touch to interview Mr. Allen."
"O.K."
Kris shifted a little closer to Adam and held still when Adam put his hand on his back. "You'll tell us when the second arraignment is?" Kris asked.
"Yes. We'll be in touch regularly from now until the trial begins."
"O.K. Thank you."
"Thank you," Ms. Turner said.
Adam ended the call and put the phone on the counter. "Are you all right?"
"They let him go," Kris said. He sounded as dull as he felt.
"No, Kris, they didn't. House arrest. It's...something they do here. A lot."
Kris scrubbed his face with his sleeve, uncertain if he was wiping away tears of grief or anger. "He's not going to jail, though, is he? He's going to be in his house. His house, which is like a million times better than yours."
"Yeah, but...I can leave mine. He's not running around free. And he's not going to come after you."
"I wasn't thinking about that," Kris said, even though Adam had hit on exactly what had been bothering him: he might open Adam's door one day soon and see Smith standing there with the collar in his hand, telling him to come home.
"He's not," Adam said again, and squeezed his shoulder. Kris nodded and pulled away, mumbling that he needed to be alone.
Adam didn't follow him. Thankful for that, Kris shut himself in the bathroom, sat down on the closed toilet and clenched his fists between his knees, trying not to feel.
#
On the first Sunday, Kris went to Daniel and Christina's church with his family, and Adam stayed home. Neil told Adam about Music Sunday beforehand, so when they returned, they found that Adam had gathered a group of friends, all with instruments. After some hesitation and a lot of encouragement, Kris played his viola late in the afternoon. He only knew the one song, but Adam hadn't heard it yet. At least, not since he'd re-learned it. Everyone applauded and acted like it was the best thing he'd ever done. Kris tried not to blush too deep.
Adam spent a lot of time in his recording studio. He said now that Kris was back, he was inspired again. Kris bunkered down with him, because sometimes that was the only room where he could have quiet. Outside, everything was bustling, but in the studio he could stretch out on the floor, close his eyes and listen to Adam wail. It seemed a lifetime ago when he'd done the same thing on his second day with Adam and been so worried about pleasing his new master. There was still an empty spot on the wall where the gold record had been. It was at the police station along with the suitcase and the rest of Kris's things. He worried that Smith's lawyer would try to use them to prove that Kris returned to him willingly, but the lawyer he and Adam hired to advise him on legal matters said it wouldn't matter because the moment Kris was not allowed to leave, he became a crime victim. Kris didn't like to look at the bare spot on the wall. It made his heart race, made him remember, so he focused on Adam bent over his laptop, sometimes cursing at it, and that helped.
The delay in the re-naming ceremony continued as they struggled to find a pastor everyone could agree on. Things became a little easier when Brad got vocal and insisted that in this scenario, "everyone" was "me and Kris. And sometimes Adam." Even so, Daniel and Brad interviewed thirty before settling on Pastor Nick of the United Church of Christ. Pastor Nick came with his own ideas and suggested from the start that he saw it as a kind of wedding between past and present. Kris and, more importantly, Brad, liked that image.
As Ms. Turner had said, district attorneys from California and New York interviewed him, some by satellite. There was a delay in the preliminary hearing while they figured out which state should have jurisdiction over the case.
He had a new psychiatrist, too, two sessions a week: one alone and one with Adam.
The STD tests came back clear the same day as the renaming ceremony. It seemed like the perfect cap to the most hectic two weeks Kris could remember. Most days, he didn't have time to think about Smith sitting in his multi-million dollar home instead of in a cell where he belonged.
When he did, it hit him like a cold, wet stone, and it felt like drowning.
#
The backyard had been off limits all week. Brad had put a tent up that covered most of it, so they couldn't even look out the window to see what he had going on. The tent was gone now. Kris looked around the yard and saw Tiki torches lining the perimeter. His family, all dressed in their Sunday Best, were in a line smiling at him. His father looked a little nervous. Adam was dressed in white just like Kris, from his shirt down to his painted toenails. Kris noticed that no one was wearing shoes. He also noticed that he was the only one without pants. He fiddled with the sleeves of the white choir robe that Brad had dressed him in.
"Kris, how are you feeling?" Pastor Nick came up, hand extended. Kris shook it. He was still looking around the yard. Pastor Nick put his arm around him and moved him towards his family. They stopped a few feet away. Kris swallowed as Nick put both hands on his shoulders as if he was presenting him.
Pastor Nick directed himself to Kris as if he didn't care whether or not the others could hear, even though his voice was definitely carrying. "We are here today, the family and friends, those who love you, to witness your rebirth as Kris Allen. Someone who is neither the person you were at birth, Kristopher Neil Allen, nor the person you were made, Stephen Smith. Today, you officially acknowledge, before God and before those gathered and, by extension, before the world, that you are your own person. A combination of the personages of Kristopher and Stephen. From here, you will move forward with the confidence and knowledge that who you are is your own choice and that you are loved and trusted in your choices. Will you accept this confirmation?" He moved in front of Kris to ask the last question.
"I will," Kris said.
Pastor Nick smiled. Kris smiled back. "That wasn't so bad," Kris said. "I was expecting something more intense."
Pastor Nick cocked an eyebrow. "Kris, to cement your confirmation, there is one task that you must perform, in order to cleanse your spirit and free you from the negativity that you may be carrying with you from your old names. We pray that as you move forward into becoming your new self, you will hold close to you those memories and traits which are most positive, and that you will let the others fall away."
Kris nodded. Yes, he'd like that very much. Pastor Nick turned him around. His family stepped aside to show what they had been blocking. Apparently here was the reason for all the banging that had been going on. There was a pit in Adam's yard, about three feet wide and seven feet long.
It was filled with burning coals.
Kris stared at it. Pastor Nick squeezed his shoulder. From the back corner of the yard, someone began beating steadily on a drum.
"You can do it, Kris," Nick said. He stepped back.
Kris stepped forward. He sought Adam's eyes. Adam gave him a small, tight smile. He reached out, but Kris shook his head. He could do this. He'd been keeping all his hurt, betrayal, and confusion smashed into a tiny flammable ball inside himself where he could contain it with a forcefield of resistance and denial. As he stood beside the coals, he began to relax his grip and let it expand until it filled him. Until it reached his toes and fingertips.
He stepped onto the coals. They felt warm, but manageable. He took another step. Focused on the end of the pit, he let his feet take him towards it. With each step, he chanted his name in his mind. Kris. Kris. Kris. Each time his foot touched the coals, he let the heat sear away every negative emotion he'd been holding back. The three years with Smith. The confusion and fear upon coming back. Of finding out Smith wasn't who he'd thought. Of not knowing who he was himself. He felt like he was seeing clearly at last, no longer squinting through a veil of hurt. He could see what was important. Moving forward mattered. He landed on the grass again. Family mattered. Adam mattered. His friends. There was silence. No one was in his line of sight, and for a moment, he stood watching the stars over the wooden fence.
When he turned around, everyone cheered. Kris smiled. He touched his face and realized he was crying. Before he could wipe his tears, Adam swept him up, so he rubbed his face on Adam's shoulder instead.
"And now, a song," Brad said, signaling the musicians on the edge of the yard. A drag queen dressed as Dolly Parton took the vocals, accompanied by two shirtless, glistening young men in fur trousers on the harp and flute.
"Good God, it really is like a wedding," Kris whispered.
Adam laughed against Kris's shoulder.
#
Apparently, parties at Adam's house had the same effect on Adam's friends as lights had on moths. Although less than ten people had been present for the ceremony, by the end of the night the backyard was so full it was difficult to move. Kris couldn't see over to the pit, but he was pretty sure from the cheers rising near it that people were taking turns running across it. His parents went to bed at midnight. They had a flight out in the morning and had to leave before dawn. They laughed down Brad's attempts to get them to stay up all night. Adam finally kicked everyone out at two A.M.
Kris was drowsy from punch and barbecued chicken wings. He leaned into Adam's hand as he started to guide Kris inside before the yard was cleared of revellers. On the staircase, Adam stretched for the light. His groin bumped Kris's hip, hardness there and obvious. Kris swallowed. He tried to shift back into Adam, but Adam moved, put his hand on Kris's hip and urged him upstairs, yawning.
In the bathroom, Adam brushed his teeth while Kris peed. They switched places, Adam smiling sleepily and making Kris wonder if he'd imagined the pressure against his hip. Adam kissed Kris on the cheek and went into the bedroom.
When Kris finished, he found Adam already changed into his T-shirt and in bed. Kris slipped his choir robe off. Somehow, he'd ended up keeping it on all night. It seemed less strange when Adam's friends showed up, and he saw what they were wearing. He plucked his T-shirt off the pillow and pulled it on.
"Can I hold you?" Adam asked.
Kris nodded and crawled into his arms. Adam shifted his hips away from Kris's. He kissed Kris's neck. "Goodnight, Kris Allen," he said.
Kris twisted around until he could reach Adam's lips with his. "Goodnight."
#
Kris woke up alone. It was still dark. Before he could panic, Adam said, "I'm down here." Squinting, he saw Adam sitting at the end of the bed.
"Adam?"
"Do you feel any different?" Adam asked, keeping his back turned.
"Between now and right before I walked over burning coals? No. Between now and two weeks ago when I came home to you? Yes." Kris moved down to lie beside Adam.
"You've got your name now."
"Yeah. And I've got you."
Adam rubbed Kris's back. "You've always had me."
"I've always had my name too. I just didn't know it."
"I want to do it," Adam said.
"Do?" Kris rolled onto his side so he could see Adam better.
"The coals. They're still burning."
For a moment, Kris was embarrassed for not thinking about it before. Adam had gone through a hellish three years. He deserved a ceremony of his own. "I think you should."
"It's just...the last three years... I want to be cleansed, too. Want all that out of me."
"I said I think you should." Kris got up and took Adam's hand. "You want to?"
Adam looked at him for a few seconds as if thinking it over. "Yes."
They went downstairs quietly, both barefoot. It felt too heavy to speak, and they didn't. They stepped over bits of trash: plastic cups, napkins, the occasional fork. The Tiki lamps were still burning, casting shadows over the yard. The coals glowed softly. They looked invitingly warm. Kris reached out to hold Adam's hand. He could hear traffic in the distance rolling over the road at the bottom of the hill that they could see from their bedroom window. A trio of fireflies hovered beneath the single tree, making Kris want to run after them and see if they would let him catch them. He remembered doing it as a child and didn't let himself dwell on if it was Kristopher's memory or Stephen's. It was Kris's memory now.
Adam smiled at Kris and turned his attention to the smoldering coals. Kris released his hand. Adam took his first step. Kris walked alongside him on the grass. He remembered the first time he'd seen Adam when he came running out of the house to meet him in the driveway. He'd been so pale, so tired, too thin. If not for Brad keeping Adam going, Kris didn't want to think about how he might have ended up. Adam was healthy now. Sometimes Kris caught Adam smiling at him, having stopped whatever he was doing to watch Kris. He didn't think Adam knew he did it. When Adam reached the other side, Kris waited until he turned around. The moment he did, Kris jumped into his arms.
"Thank you," Adam said. Tears glistened in his eyes, but didn't fall. He looked happy. Joyful.
"I'd do anything for you," Kris said. He tugged on Adam's shirt, trying to show how much he meant it, how he wasn't going to let Adam go. Just like he knew Adam would never let him go.
"I love you so fucking much." Adam bent down and kissed him. Kris went on his tiptoes to meet him halfway, his bare feet slipping in the chilly morning dew.
#
They had set the alarm for five so they would be up to say goodbye to Kris's parents, but instead of incessant beeping, Kim woke them. "Don't get up," she said, perching on the bed next to Kris, but Adam was already yawning and stretching.
"I'll make you breakfast," he said.
"Really, don't get up," Neil said with urgency, having been subjected to Adam's liquid-in-the-middle pancakes the previous Sunday. "There's no time."
"I was thinking Pop-Tarts and coffee."
"In that case..." Neil stopped trying to urge Adam back down.
Thanks to Kim's trips to the store, there were Pop-Tarts in the kitchen now and a slew of other things Kris was certain Adam didn't eat. As soon as Neil and Kim's backs were turned, Adam would probably be cramming Frosted Blueberry into their luggage. Kris followed them downstairs, squinting against the too-bright lights as his brain tried to catch up with the idea of being awake after so little sleep.
"Are you sure you don't want us to stay for the second arraignment?" Kim asked.
"Mom, they just started the preliminary hearing. It could be another three weeks or longer."
Kim looked like she was going to say something, so Kris hurried on. "Ms. Turner says it'll only take two minutes. I don't even have to be there." He didn't want his parents with him when he saw Smith again.
"We'll come back for the trial," Kim said.
"Counting on it."
With hugs and kisses, they put Kim and Neil into a car from a local service and waved them goodbye. "How many Pop-Tarts do we have left?" Kris asked as they drove away.
"I saved you the chocolate ones," Adam said.
"Good." He went back into the kitchen to find the box.
Adam headed for the stairs. "I'm going back to bed."
"O.K."
He turned, one foot on the first step. "You're staying up?"
There was something in Adam's tone that Kris didn't quite understand. It seemed like he was forcing casualness. Adam was waiting for an answer, though, so he said, "I think so." Kris liked quiet mornings, and there was no sense in wasting one.
"O.K." For a tired person, Adam moved remarkably quickly up the stairs. Kris covered a yawn and watched him go.
#
Kris had seen hundreds of men masturbate. He'd seen them do it near him, on him, at him, all jerking out grunts and "slut" and "pretty boy," and sometimes acting like he wasn't there at all until their come splattered on him and they looked down with fake surprise that turned immediately to satisfaction.
Watching Adam was different. Adam was quiet, contained. And, when he looked up and saw Kris watching in the mirror, Kris could add another unique trait. Embarrassed. Or maybe 'caught', if that could be a trait. He had decided that he was tired after all and come back to the bedroom to join Adam for a nap. Instead of in bed, he found Adam in his sleep pants and t-shirt standing in front of the toilet, elbow moving rapidly and soft moans spilling out of him.
"You look like you could use some help." It felt so corny to say, but Adam met his gaze in the mirror and gave a small nod. His lips parted and a bit of tongue poked out as Kris moved behind him and turned him around. They hadn't touched like this yet. Not intentionally, at least. There was the odd accidental brush in bed, the occasional tangle of legs and awkwardly placed hand. Adam had looked Kris in the face every time, judging something, and always backed down--sometimes to Kris's disappointment, sometimes to his relief. Every time Adam proved that he could keep his word, Kris loved and resented him. It wasn't fair sometimes, but other times, having Adam reinforce over and over that he could be trusted was what Kris needed more than a fleeting touch.
Kris wanted to go to his knees, but Adam pulled him into a hug, bent down and whispered Kris's name onto his head. His hair was still so short that he felt Adam's lips on his scalp. Rubbing his palm over Adam's cock, he thumbed the head and fisted Adam's shirt with his other hand as Adam rocked into his grip.
"Kris, fuck. Yes."
Kris hiccupped. Tea always did that to him. It seemed to wake Adam up. He started moving his hands. He slid them over Kris's head and down his back, over his ass. Kris wasn't going to panic. He stroked Adam harder, trying to bring him off before Adam realized...
"Kris?"
Fuck.
Adam had stopped his exploration right where he should. He pressed on Kris's cock. His soft, limp, flaccid, disinterested cock. "Kris?" Adam said again, so Kris had to look up and see the confusion and self-hatred written on his expression. He looked down again, trying to ignore it, worked harder on getting Adam off. Adam pulled Kris's hand away, though. Kris moved his freed hand to Adam's shirt and held on. Adam moved his own hand from Kris's groin to his hip. For a few seconds, they stood there, breathing.
"I...I'm sorry," Kris said. "I guess I'm out of practice."
"When was the last time you..." Adam gestured towards Kris's groin. "Touched yourself. Aside from peeing."
Oh. 'Touched himself.' That was a whole different question from 'when's the last time you came. That question was...Kris didn't have any idea. "I don't know," he said.
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I don't remember, all right?" He tried to nuzzle into Adam again. "Look, I can make you feel good. I want to. It'll make me feel good, and you want that too, right?"
"Of course, but--"
"So let me." Kris pushed at Adam's waistband, trying to get it out of the way, but Adam caught his wrist and held him.
"Kris. Stop. We said no sex before because you weren't ready. That hasn't changed."
"You don't need to be getting blueballs just because I'm not..."
"My hand works fine. You saw it in action a few minutes ago. Do not worry about me." Adam lifted Kris's hand to his face and stared at it. "Wonder about yours, though.
"Mine?"
"When's the last time you tried it out?"
"Oh." Kris caught his reflection in the mirror behind Adam. Ears red, lips squeezed together, fuzzy head. "That."
"Yes, 'that.'"
"Smith didn't like me to."
"You've been away from him for almost two months, Kris, aside from your return engagement. You never jerked off in that whole time?"
"I'm not a very sexual person."
Adam slid closer and bent down until his nose was brushing the soft skin behind Kris's ear. With one hand on Kris's shoulder, he nuzzled in. Kris swallowed and felt his dick harden.
"Are you sure about that?" Adam asked.
"What are you...?" Kris didn't know if he wanted to latch onto Adam or run away from the feeling. Before he could decide, Adam had pulled away.
"You can use that excuse if you want, Kris, but you're only hurting yourself. I'm not going to let you use me for that."
"So, we're not going to have sex? Ever?" He didn't mean to sound so plaintive.
"We are. But not until you can come on your own. Alone."
"You mean like homework? You're giving me jerk off homework?"
Adam shrugged, but a smile tugged his lips. "Sure."
"Can I think of you while I'm doing it, though?"
"You'd better not be thinking of anyone else," Adam said, teasing. This time when Adam's hand fell on Kris's head, he leaned into it.
"There is no one else." Kris gave him his best wide-eyed love-struck look.
Adam's tone shifted, as if he thought he'd said something that was too dominating. "There could be if you wanted there to be. I mean, I'm not an overlord or anythi--"
Kris grinned. "Adam, shut up."
"Right."
#
Kris stood with his back to the bathroom mirror. He looked down at his dick. He was allowed to touch it now. It was difficult to remember when he'd wanted to. He liked having it touched, but when the choice was between touching it himself or not touching at all...he didn't think touching himself was an option to be considered. Slipping his hand under it, he tested its weight. It felt dull and warm. He shivered a little. It felt wrong to do this. Strange. His cock wasn't responding to him--not that sitting on his palm was any stimulant. It was all he could bring himself to do, though. Slowly, he made a fist around it, but the first attempt to move caused a sick feeling deep in his stomach. He stopped.
Smith had never punished him for touching himself. He'd only looked disappointed as he pulled Kris's--Stephen's--hands away, gently scolding him that he needed to trust his master to care for him. He stared at his hand, at his dick as he held himself. The only thing stopping him from snatching his hand away was that Adam had told him to do this. He knew Adam hadn't intended him to think of it as an order. Adam didn't give orders. But, if he was going to manage this without getting sick, Kris needed to believe that it was.
He tried, but he knew it wasn't real. He managed another stroke before the roiling in his stomach and bile in his throat made him give up. Turning, he caught himself on the counter, saw his pale reflected face and splashed water on it until the color came back.
When he opened the door, he wasn't surprised to see Adam standing there. He pushed down his anger when Adam glanced at his cock and then away, as if seeing Kris naked was a horrible thing. He'd told Adam before that if he wanted someone else to fuck while Kris sorted himself out, he could have that. Adam had refused. He was so stuck on the idea that Kris could get better. Fuck him. Fuck--
"I couldn't do it," he said. He had no idea why his voice was breaking, why he was grabbing Adam's raised hand and pushing it against his shoulder. Why that was the only place he could stand to be touched.
"It's O.K.," Adam said.
Kris held his hand in place and looked away. It wasn't O.K.
Keep reading.
Author: amproof
Pairing: Adam/Stephen, Adam/Kris, OMC/Stephen
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word count: 11,000
Warnings: High possibility of triggering content. Non-AU sexual slavery (Kris) and requisite abuse: physical, mental, sexual, mainly in flashbacks. PTSD, brainwashing. This chapter: abuse in flashback.
Genres: angst, hurt/comfort, healing/recovery, amnesia, mystery
Betas: brimtoast.
Notes: This is revised from my story on aianonlovefest, which was inspired by a prompt on ai_kinkmeme for rescued sex slave Kris.
Summary: Kris has been missing for three years. When Adam finds him, he's not the person he used to be. In fact, he doesn't know who he used to be.
Previously: Part I
Chapters 1-5, 6-8, 9-10
Part II
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7
Poster by katekat1010
Within a few days, it became apparent that the re-naming ceremony was going to take more time than they'd thought to organize. Turned out that finding a pastor to perform a slightly New Age ceremony who was not only willing but also qualified (i.e. able to pass Brad's series of tests that Kris couldn't begin to understand and quickly gave up trying to figure out) took longer than expected. In the meantime, Kim and Neil were comfortably situated in the guest room at night and making themselves at home during the day: Kim, by reorganizing Adam's laundry room and Neil by building shelves in the garage. Daniel and Christina became regular fixtures around the house, as did Brad, though he spent most of his time in the backyard managing the workers he had brought with him. Adam handed over his credit card, gave a warning look to Brad, and didn't ask any questions.
Kris had a witness advocate from the district attorney's office assigned to him. Her name was Ms. Turner, and her job was to keep him informed of court proceedings and his rights throughout. On her first call, in the same breath with which she introduced herself, she told him that Smith had been arraigned two days before. Kris did a quick calculation and realized that while he had been sitting in a doctor's office having blood drawn, Smith had been in front of a judge. It seemed like an appropriate metaphor. Kris looked over at Adam, who was loading the dishwasher, to see if he was listening. Someone (either his mother or Adam) had realized that Kris hadn't had a complete physical since his return, so he and Adam had both gone for one at Adam's fancy doctor and gotten STD screens as well. Kris had been nervous that Smith might have given him a phobia of doctors, but it had been fine. It had helped that the doctor was a woman and about twenty years younger than Smith.
"He's charged with kidnapping with rape for now," Ms. Turner said. "There may be more charges added at a second arraignment after the Preliminary Hearing."
"He did more than that," Kris said. "That can't be all." He knew he was clutching the phone too tightly. His palms were sweating. He tried to relax his grip so it wouldn't fly out of his hand.
"That charge carries a life sentence." Ms. Turner had a soothing voice, but not in a patronizing way. "He's leveled with the same charge against the seventeen-year-old victim, too. Right now it looks like they'll be dealing with your cases separately. Are you aware of your rights as a victim?"
She took his silence as a no and advised him to read an online pamphlet. Then she explained how she would help keep him informed of court dates, including the ones he would not be allowed to attend, and decisions made regarding litigation. She concluded by telling him that she could only do so much and, considering the complicated nature of his case, he should hire a lawyer who could better guide him through the process.
"He's in jail now, right?" Kris asked. He needed a second to let the tide of information settle. He thought she could hear it in his voice because she did pause before answering.
"He's been placed under house arrest."
"What?" He blinked, as if she could see his disbelief. "I don't understand. He's...he's free?"
Adam looked up from arranging glasses on the top rack and mouthed, 'What?' Kris gestured him over and turned the phone to share the conversation with him.
"It's standard in California," Ms. Turner was saying. "Jails are overcrowded, so the accused are often fitted with ankle bracelets and returned home. He is under constant surveillance. If he steps off his stoop, an alarm goes off and the entire LAPD will be at his door."
"He's not in jail," Kris said. He was shaking so much that Adam took the phone. When he tried to put his arm around Kris's shoulders, Kris shrugged it off. Adam whispered to him, but Kris kept his head down, so Adam put the phone to Kris's ear and hunched down so he could hear too.
"I know what this must seem like, Mr. Allen," Ms. Turner said, "but try to remember that this is the start of a very long process. It's important that you have support at this time. Do you have that?"
Kris felt Adam next to him and nodded. Even if he didn't want to be touched, Adam was still there.
"Yes," Adam said, answering for him.
"Mr. Lambert?"
"Yeah."
"I've advised Mr. Allen that he may wish to hire a lawyer to help him through this process."
"O.K."
"In a few days, someone from the D.A.'s office will be in touch to interview Mr. Allen."
"O.K."
Kris shifted a little closer to Adam and held still when Adam put his hand on his back. "You'll tell us when the second arraignment is?" Kris asked.
"Yes. We'll be in touch regularly from now until the trial begins."
"O.K. Thank you."
"Thank you," Ms. Turner said.
Adam ended the call and put the phone on the counter. "Are you all right?"
"They let him go," Kris said. He sounded as dull as he felt.
"No, Kris, they didn't. House arrest. It's...something they do here. A lot."
Kris scrubbed his face with his sleeve, uncertain if he was wiping away tears of grief or anger. "He's not going to jail, though, is he? He's going to be in his house. His house, which is like a million times better than yours."
"Yeah, but...I can leave mine. He's not running around free. And he's not going to come after you."
"I wasn't thinking about that," Kris said, even though Adam had hit on exactly what had been bothering him: he might open Adam's door one day soon and see Smith standing there with the collar in his hand, telling him to come home.
"He's not," Adam said again, and squeezed his shoulder. Kris nodded and pulled away, mumbling that he needed to be alone.
Adam didn't follow him. Thankful for that, Kris shut himself in the bathroom, sat down on the closed toilet and clenched his fists between his knees, trying not to feel.
#
On the first Sunday, Kris went to Daniel and Christina's church with his family, and Adam stayed home. Neil told Adam about Music Sunday beforehand, so when they returned, they found that Adam had gathered a group of friends, all with instruments. After some hesitation and a lot of encouragement, Kris played his viola late in the afternoon. He only knew the one song, but Adam hadn't heard it yet. At least, not since he'd re-learned it. Everyone applauded and acted like it was the best thing he'd ever done. Kris tried not to blush too deep.
Adam spent a lot of time in his recording studio. He said now that Kris was back, he was inspired again. Kris bunkered down with him, because sometimes that was the only room where he could have quiet. Outside, everything was bustling, but in the studio he could stretch out on the floor, close his eyes and listen to Adam wail. It seemed a lifetime ago when he'd done the same thing on his second day with Adam and been so worried about pleasing his new master. There was still an empty spot on the wall where the gold record had been. It was at the police station along with the suitcase and the rest of Kris's things. He worried that Smith's lawyer would try to use them to prove that Kris returned to him willingly, but the lawyer he and Adam hired to advise him on legal matters said it wouldn't matter because the moment Kris was not allowed to leave, he became a crime victim. Kris didn't like to look at the bare spot on the wall. It made his heart race, made him remember, so he focused on Adam bent over his laptop, sometimes cursing at it, and that helped.
The delay in the re-naming ceremony continued as they struggled to find a pastor everyone could agree on. Things became a little easier when Brad got vocal and insisted that in this scenario, "everyone" was "me and Kris. And sometimes Adam." Even so, Daniel and Brad interviewed thirty before settling on Pastor Nick of the United Church of Christ. Pastor Nick came with his own ideas and suggested from the start that he saw it as a kind of wedding between past and present. Kris and, more importantly, Brad, liked that image.
As Ms. Turner had said, district attorneys from California and New York interviewed him, some by satellite. There was a delay in the preliminary hearing while they figured out which state should have jurisdiction over the case.
He had a new psychiatrist, too, two sessions a week: one alone and one with Adam.
The STD tests came back clear the same day as the renaming ceremony. It seemed like the perfect cap to the most hectic two weeks Kris could remember. Most days, he didn't have time to think about Smith sitting in his multi-million dollar home instead of in a cell where he belonged.
When he did, it hit him like a cold, wet stone, and it felt like drowning.
#
The backyard had been off limits all week. Brad had put a tent up that covered most of it, so they couldn't even look out the window to see what he had going on. The tent was gone now. Kris looked around the yard and saw Tiki torches lining the perimeter. His family, all dressed in their Sunday Best, were in a line smiling at him. His father looked a little nervous. Adam was dressed in white just like Kris, from his shirt down to his painted toenails. Kris noticed that no one was wearing shoes. He also noticed that he was the only one without pants. He fiddled with the sleeves of the white choir robe that Brad had dressed him in.
"Kris, how are you feeling?" Pastor Nick came up, hand extended. Kris shook it. He was still looking around the yard. Pastor Nick put his arm around him and moved him towards his family. They stopped a few feet away. Kris swallowed as Nick put both hands on his shoulders as if he was presenting him.
Pastor Nick directed himself to Kris as if he didn't care whether or not the others could hear, even though his voice was definitely carrying. "We are here today, the family and friends, those who love you, to witness your rebirth as Kris Allen. Someone who is neither the person you were at birth, Kristopher Neil Allen, nor the person you were made, Stephen Smith. Today, you officially acknowledge, before God and before those gathered and, by extension, before the world, that you are your own person. A combination of the personages of Kristopher and Stephen. From here, you will move forward with the confidence and knowledge that who you are is your own choice and that you are loved and trusted in your choices. Will you accept this confirmation?" He moved in front of Kris to ask the last question.
"I will," Kris said.
Pastor Nick smiled. Kris smiled back. "That wasn't so bad," Kris said. "I was expecting something more intense."
Pastor Nick cocked an eyebrow. "Kris, to cement your confirmation, there is one task that you must perform, in order to cleanse your spirit and free you from the negativity that you may be carrying with you from your old names. We pray that as you move forward into becoming your new self, you will hold close to you those memories and traits which are most positive, and that you will let the others fall away."
Kris nodded. Yes, he'd like that very much. Pastor Nick turned him around. His family stepped aside to show what they had been blocking. Apparently here was the reason for all the banging that had been going on. There was a pit in Adam's yard, about three feet wide and seven feet long.
It was filled with burning coals.
Kris stared at it. Pastor Nick squeezed his shoulder. From the back corner of the yard, someone began beating steadily on a drum.
"You can do it, Kris," Nick said. He stepped back.
Kris stepped forward. He sought Adam's eyes. Adam gave him a small, tight smile. He reached out, but Kris shook his head. He could do this. He'd been keeping all his hurt, betrayal, and confusion smashed into a tiny flammable ball inside himself where he could contain it with a forcefield of resistance and denial. As he stood beside the coals, he began to relax his grip and let it expand until it filled him. Until it reached his toes and fingertips.
He stepped onto the coals. They felt warm, but manageable. He took another step. Focused on the end of the pit, he let his feet take him towards it. With each step, he chanted his name in his mind. Kris. Kris. Kris. Each time his foot touched the coals, he let the heat sear away every negative emotion he'd been holding back. The three years with Smith. The confusion and fear upon coming back. Of finding out Smith wasn't who he'd thought. Of not knowing who he was himself. He felt like he was seeing clearly at last, no longer squinting through a veil of hurt. He could see what was important. Moving forward mattered. He landed on the grass again. Family mattered. Adam mattered. His friends. There was silence. No one was in his line of sight, and for a moment, he stood watching the stars over the wooden fence.
When he turned around, everyone cheered. Kris smiled. He touched his face and realized he was crying. Before he could wipe his tears, Adam swept him up, so he rubbed his face on Adam's shoulder instead.
"And now, a song," Brad said, signaling the musicians on the edge of the yard. A drag queen dressed as Dolly Parton took the vocals, accompanied by two shirtless, glistening young men in fur trousers on the harp and flute.
"Good God, it really is like a wedding," Kris whispered.
Adam laughed against Kris's shoulder.
#
Apparently, parties at Adam's house had the same effect on Adam's friends as lights had on moths. Although less than ten people had been present for the ceremony, by the end of the night the backyard was so full it was difficult to move. Kris couldn't see over to the pit, but he was pretty sure from the cheers rising near it that people were taking turns running across it. His parents went to bed at midnight. They had a flight out in the morning and had to leave before dawn. They laughed down Brad's attempts to get them to stay up all night. Adam finally kicked everyone out at two A.M.
Kris was drowsy from punch and barbecued chicken wings. He leaned into Adam's hand as he started to guide Kris inside before the yard was cleared of revellers. On the staircase, Adam stretched for the light. His groin bumped Kris's hip, hardness there and obvious. Kris swallowed. He tried to shift back into Adam, but Adam moved, put his hand on Kris's hip and urged him upstairs, yawning.
In the bathroom, Adam brushed his teeth while Kris peed. They switched places, Adam smiling sleepily and making Kris wonder if he'd imagined the pressure against his hip. Adam kissed Kris on the cheek and went into the bedroom.
When Kris finished, he found Adam already changed into his T-shirt and in bed. Kris slipped his choir robe off. Somehow, he'd ended up keeping it on all night. It seemed less strange when Adam's friends showed up, and he saw what they were wearing. He plucked his T-shirt off the pillow and pulled it on.
"Can I hold you?" Adam asked.
Kris nodded and crawled into his arms. Adam shifted his hips away from Kris's. He kissed Kris's neck. "Goodnight, Kris Allen," he said.
Kris twisted around until he could reach Adam's lips with his. "Goodnight."
#
Kris woke up alone. It was still dark. Before he could panic, Adam said, "I'm down here." Squinting, he saw Adam sitting at the end of the bed.
"Adam?"
"Do you feel any different?" Adam asked, keeping his back turned.
"Between now and right before I walked over burning coals? No. Between now and two weeks ago when I came home to you? Yes." Kris moved down to lie beside Adam.
"You've got your name now."
"Yeah. And I've got you."
Adam rubbed Kris's back. "You've always had me."
"I've always had my name too. I just didn't know it."
"I want to do it," Adam said.
"Do?" Kris rolled onto his side so he could see Adam better.
"The coals. They're still burning."
For a moment, Kris was embarrassed for not thinking about it before. Adam had gone through a hellish three years. He deserved a ceremony of his own. "I think you should."
"It's just...the last three years... I want to be cleansed, too. Want all that out of me."
"I said I think you should." Kris got up and took Adam's hand. "You want to?"
Adam looked at him for a few seconds as if thinking it over. "Yes."
They went downstairs quietly, both barefoot. It felt too heavy to speak, and they didn't. They stepped over bits of trash: plastic cups, napkins, the occasional fork. The Tiki lamps were still burning, casting shadows over the yard. The coals glowed softly. They looked invitingly warm. Kris reached out to hold Adam's hand. He could hear traffic in the distance rolling over the road at the bottom of the hill that they could see from their bedroom window. A trio of fireflies hovered beneath the single tree, making Kris want to run after them and see if they would let him catch them. He remembered doing it as a child and didn't let himself dwell on if it was Kristopher's memory or Stephen's. It was Kris's memory now.
Adam smiled at Kris and turned his attention to the smoldering coals. Kris released his hand. Adam took his first step. Kris walked alongside him on the grass. He remembered the first time he'd seen Adam when he came running out of the house to meet him in the driveway. He'd been so pale, so tired, too thin. If not for Brad keeping Adam going, Kris didn't want to think about how he might have ended up. Adam was healthy now. Sometimes Kris caught Adam smiling at him, having stopped whatever he was doing to watch Kris. He didn't think Adam knew he did it. When Adam reached the other side, Kris waited until he turned around. The moment he did, Kris jumped into his arms.
"Thank you," Adam said. Tears glistened in his eyes, but didn't fall. He looked happy. Joyful.
"I'd do anything for you," Kris said. He tugged on Adam's shirt, trying to show how much he meant it, how he wasn't going to let Adam go. Just like he knew Adam would never let him go.
"I love you so fucking much." Adam bent down and kissed him. Kris went on his tiptoes to meet him halfway, his bare feet slipping in the chilly morning dew.
#
They had set the alarm for five so they would be up to say goodbye to Kris's parents, but instead of incessant beeping, Kim woke them. "Don't get up," she said, perching on the bed next to Kris, but Adam was already yawning and stretching.
"I'll make you breakfast," he said.
"Really, don't get up," Neil said with urgency, having been subjected to Adam's liquid-in-the-middle pancakes the previous Sunday. "There's no time."
"I was thinking Pop-Tarts and coffee."
"In that case..." Neil stopped trying to urge Adam back down.
Thanks to Kim's trips to the store, there were Pop-Tarts in the kitchen now and a slew of other things Kris was certain Adam didn't eat. As soon as Neil and Kim's backs were turned, Adam would probably be cramming Frosted Blueberry into their luggage. Kris followed them downstairs, squinting against the too-bright lights as his brain tried to catch up with the idea of being awake after so little sleep.
"Are you sure you don't want us to stay for the second arraignment?" Kim asked.
"Mom, they just started the preliminary hearing. It could be another three weeks or longer."
Kim looked like she was going to say something, so Kris hurried on. "Ms. Turner says it'll only take two minutes. I don't even have to be there." He didn't want his parents with him when he saw Smith again.
"We'll come back for the trial," Kim said.
"Counting on it."
With hugs and kisses, they put Kim and Neil into a car from a local service and waved them goodbye. "How many Pop-Tarts do we have left?" Kris asked as they drove away.
"I saved you the chocolate ones," Adam said.
"Good." He went back into the kitchen to find the box.
Adam headed for the stairs. "I'm going back to bed."
"O.K."
He turned, one foot on the first step. "You're staying up?"
There was something in Adam's tone that Kris didn't quite understand. It seemed like he was forcing casualness. Adam was waiting for an answer, though, so he said, "I think so." Kris liked quiet mornings, and there was no sense in wasting one.
"O.K." For a tired person, Adam moved remarkably quickly up the stairs. Kris covered a yawn and watched him go.
#
Kris had seen hundreds of men masturbate. He'd seen them do it near him, on him, at him, all jerking out grunts and "slut" and "pretty boy," and sometimes acting like he wasn't there at all until their come splattered on him and they looked down with fake surprise that turned immediately to satisfaction.
Watching Adam was different. Adam was quiet, contained. And, when he looked up and saw Kris watching in the mirror, Kris could add another unique trait. Embarrassed. Or maybe 'caught', if that could be a trait. He had decided that he was tired after all and come back to the bedroom to join Adam for a nap. Instead of in bed, he found Adam in his sleep pants and t-shirt standing in front of the toilet, elbow moving rapidly and soft moans spilling out of him.
"You look like you could use some help." It felt so corny to say, but Adam met his gaze in the mirror and gave a small nod. His lips parted and a bit of tongue poked out as Kris moved behind him and turned him around. They hadn't touched like this yet. Not intentionally, at least. There was the odd accidental brush in bed, the occasional tangle of legs and awkwardly placed hand. Adam had looked Kris in the face every time, judging something, and always backed down--sometimes to Kris's disappointment, sometimes to his relief. Every time Adam proved that he could keep his word, Kris loved and resented him. It wasn't fair sometimes, but other times, having Adam reinforce over and over that he could be trusted was what Kris needed more than a fleeting touch.
Kris wanted to go to his knees, but Adam pulled him into a hug, bent down and whispered Kris's name onto his head. His hair was still so short that he felt Adam's lips on his scalp. Rubbing his palm over Adam's cock, he thumbed the head and fisted Adam's shirt with his other hand as Adam rocked into his grip.
"Kris, fuck. Yes."
Kris hiccupped. Tea always did that to him. It seemed to wake Adam up. He started moving his hands. He slid them over Kris's head and down his back, over his ass. Kris wasn't going to panic. He stroked Adam harder, trying to bring him off before Adam realized...
"Kris?"
Fuck.
Adam had stopped his exploration right where he should. He pressed on Kris's cock. His soft, limp, flaccid, disinterested cock. "Kris?" Adam said again, so Kris had to look up and see the confusion and self-hatred written on his expression. He looked down again, trying to ignore it, worked harder on getting Adam off. Adam pulled Kris's hand away, though. Kris moved his freed hand to Adam's shirt and held on. Adam moved his own hand from Kris's groin to his hip. For a few seconds, they stood there, breathing.
"I...I'm sorry," Kris said. "I guess I'm out of practice."
"When was the last time you..." Adam gestured towards Kris's groin. "Touched yourself. Aside from peeing."
Oh. 'Touched himself.' That was a whole different question from 'when's the last time you came. That question was...Kris didn't have any idea. "I don't know," he said.
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I don't remember, all right?" He tried to nuzzle into Adam again. "Look, I can make you feel good. I want to. It'll make me feel good, and you want that too, right?"
"Of course, but--"
"So let me." Kris pushed at Adam's waistband, trying to get it out of the way, but Adam caught his wrist and held him.
"Kris. Stop. We said no sex before because you weren't ready. That hasn't changed."
"You don't need to be getting blueballs just because I'm not..."
"My hand works fine. You saw it in action a few minutes ago. Do not worry about me." Adam lifted Kris's hand to his face and stared at it. "Wonder about yours, though.
"Mine?"
"When's the last time you tried it out?"
"Oh." Kris caught his reflection in the mirror behind Adam. Ears red, lips squeezed together, fuzzy head. "That."
"Yes, 'that.'"
"Smith didn't like me to."
"You've been away from him for almost two months, Kris, aside from your return engagement. You never jerked off in that whole time?"
"I'm not a very sexual person."
Adam slid closer and bent down until his nose was brushing the soft skin behind Kris's ear. With one hand on Kris's shoulder, he nuzzled in. Kris swallowed and felt his dick harden.
"Are you sure about that?" Adam asked.
"What are you...?" Kris didn't know if he wanted to latch onto Adam or run away from the feeling. Before he could decide, Adam had pulled away.
"You can use that excuse if you want, Kris, but you're only hurting yourself. I'm not going to let you use me for that."
"So, we're not going to have sex? Ever?" He didn't mean to sound so plaintive.
"We are. But not until you can come on your own. Alone."
"You mean like homework? You're giving me jerk off homework?"
Adam shrugged, but a smile tugged his lips. "Sure."
"Can I think of you while I'm doing it, though?"
"You'd better not be thinking of anyone else," Adam said, teasing. This time when Adam's hand fell on Kris's head, he leaned into it.
"There is no one else." Kris gave him his best wide-eyed love-struck look.
Adam's tone shifted, as if he thought he'd said something that was too dominating. "There could be if you wanted there to be. I mean, I'm not an overlord or anythi--"
Kris grinned. "Adam, shut up."
"Right."
#
Kris stood with his back to the bathroom mirror. He looked down at his dick. He was allowed to touch it now. It was difficult to remember when he'd wanted to. He liked having it touched, but when the choice was between touching it himself or not touching at all...he didn't think touching himself was an option to be considered. Slipping his hand under it, he tested its weight. It felt dull and warm. He shivered a little. It felt wrong to do this. Strange. His cock wasn't responding to him--not that sitting on his palm was any stimulant. It was all he could bring himself to do, though. Slowly, he made a fist around it, but the first attempt to move caused a sick feeling deep in his stomach. He stopped.
Smith had never punished him for touching himself. He'd only looked disappointed as he pulled Kris's--Stephen's--hands away, gently scolding him that he needed to trust his master to care for him. He stared at his hand, at his dick as he held himself. The only thing stopping him from snatching his hand away was that Adam had told him to do this. He knew Adam hadn't intended him to think of it as an order. Adam didn't give orders. But, if he was going to manage this without getting sick, Kris needed to believe that it was.
He tried, but he knew it wasn't real. He managed another stroke before the roiling in his stomach and bile in his throat made him give up. Turning, he caught himself on the counter, saw his pale reflected face and splashed water on it until the color came back.
When he opened the door, he wasn't surprised to see Adam standing there. He pushed down his anger when Adam glanced at his cock and then away, as if seeing Kris naked was a horrible thing. He'd told Adam before that if he wanted someone else to fuck while Kris sorted himself out, he could have that. Adam had refused. He was so stuck on the idea that Kris could get better. Fuck him. Fuck--
"I couldn't do it," he said. He had no idea why his voice was breaking, why he was grabbing Adam's raised hand and pushing it against his shoulder. Why that was the only place he could stand to be touched.
"It's O.K.," Adam said.
Kris held his hand in place and looked away. It wasn't O.K.
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