[AI] Next Time (Won't You Sing With Me?) {T through Z}
Title: Next Time (Won't You Sing With Me?) {T through Z}
Pairing/Characters: Adam/Kris, Kris/Katy, Kradison friendship, Katy/OMC
Wordcount: ~1500
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Everyone mentioned belongs only to themselves, and none of this ever happened. Except the bits they showed on TV.
Author's Note: SO. As lilymajolis suggested back when I was stuck on Q (thank you, love!), I ended up doing a mirror effect. It's not perfectly done - W is too long - but it's nicely symmetrical and I'm happy with how it came out. ::nodnod::
Also, I would like to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who encouraged me through this process. The love I've gotten in response to this series has absolutely blown my mind, and don't worry - I'll be back.
Previous Chapters:
A through J (Plus Author's Note)
K through M
N and O
P and Q
R and S
T is for Truth
They meet at a diner, just the three of them. It's a small place, where no one's likely to recognize them. Adam and Kris slide into one side of the booth, with Alli on the other. She orders a milkshake and fries and then fixes them with a stare that probably meant to be terrifying, but she cracks up in the middle, her laughter just a little nervous.
"Seriously, you guys." She says, leaning forward. "It's not like I, and half the country, haven't been wanting this to happen, but that was all a crazy-ass fantasy world where Kris was single and not completely oblivious. This is real life. What exactly was going on?"
"I was kissing Kris' ribs." Adam says, sipping his coffee. Kris elbows him. "What? I was!"
"Alli." Kris ignores Adam, gearing himself up again for another earnest speech. "This isn't a spur of the moment thing for me - for either of us. I...I really lo - "
"Dude." Alli cuts him off. "I know. I know you guys love each other, I'm Allison, remember? I've been here the whole time! I was asking when that started getting physical, and whether Katy's okay with it, and how the hell Adam finally managed to get you to realize it."
Kris stares at her for a long moment, Adam laughing at him, low and amused, by his side. She smirks, and accepts her chocolate milkshake from the waiter.
Kris laughs. "He kissed me on the ear."
Adam turns and looks at him, surprised. "That's really what did it?"
Alli gestures with her spoon. "Dude, I've seen that clip online! You mean that little chaste kiss was it? He does stuff like that to me all the time."
Adam chuckles at her. "The kiss that followed that clip was anything but chaste, hun."
Her eyebrows fly up. "Yeah? You show him a thing or two about kissing boys?"
"Actually..." Adam glances sidelong at Kris. "He showed me."
Kris looks back, feeling his ears heat up at the sly curl of Adam's lips. "I've gotta say, if Katy's the only one he's ever kissed, she is a fucking amazing kisser. Taught you well, baby."
Alli actually claps her hands at the endearment, slurping down milkshake. She settles herself, face a little more worried. "Which brings me to my other question - "
Kris tears his eyes away from Adam's, his fingers tangling with his boyfriend's on the seat between them. "Yes, she knows." He says, staring at the tabletop. "No, she's not completely happy with it, but then...I can't really blame her, can I?"
Allison looks sympathetic. Not pitying, not sad, just plain sympathetic, uncomplicated, and Kris kind of wants to hug her and never let go. He takes a deep breath, venturing a smile. "We're waiting until after the tour to start the divorce proceedings or make anything public."
Alli nods. "Makes sense." She eats a french fry, thoughtful, and then asks, "Do you think she'll still lend me those awesome shoes?"
Kris stares at her a moment, sees the calculation, the care, in her face, and his smile widens. "Yeah." He says. "I think she will."
Allison grins.
U is for Urgent
Warm hands against stomach, cold tile at his back. Their breathing is harsh in the tiny bathroom, Adam's face stark with the artificial lights and he looks otherworldly, impossible, as Kris fumbles him out of his jeans. His freckles stand out like stars and his stomach trembles at Kris' touch but there's no time, no time to look and linger, no time to do anything but grasp and pinch and shudder, pull and push and moan. His hands are wrapped around Adam - the first time he's really touched, bare skin to bare skin, no denim or leather or cloth in the way and it's glorious, makes him gasp in unison with his lover.
There's no finesse to it - he jerks Adam off quick and dirty, and Adam does the same to him, but as they thrust and crash together Kris can't help but think there's a sort of beauty to it - and maybe that's what Adam does, that's what Adam is - he can bring a crowd listening for his beauty to the edge with a lascivious tongue and gyrating hips, and here, tongue and hips almost come secondary because there's a beauty to him, arched and cursing, there's a beauty to the way they fit together.
Their breath is harmony, their heartbeats rhythm, a wild sort of song.
V is for Voracious
Kris slumps in his chair, a hand over his eyes. He feels chewed-out, terrible, so tired. On the couch, Katy's asleep, curled into herself, circles around her eyes that match his own. She looks awful, golden hair tangled and makeup mussed. He closes his eyes against the sight.
A minute later, and they're open again. His head feels empty, but he can't sleep, can't dream, can't think. He picks up the magazine from the table, one of about a thousand copies.
The Weight of America Too Much To Bear for Idol Kris Allen? The headline says, in blazing red letters, and below it there's a picture of him. He's sick of it - he knows he's unphotogenic, he's too beaten down, he's "depressed".
He throws the magazine across the room. He knows what it says. The same tired quotes from Katy, the same gossiping headlines about when they "fell out", what this had to do with Adam and Kris being seen together more and more.
The same question, again and again: Wouldn't it have been better, maybe, if Adam Lambert had won?
He looks at his phone again. Three new voicemails, now. He's not mad. He's not, not at all, but he's so...
Fuck reporters.
W is for Whole
Adam is careful with him, the first time, like he'll break. Kris curses him out, because he's not a girl, but Adam just raises an eyebrow, and Kris flushes. Yeah, alright, that was a stupid way to object, because obviously -
But even careful, Adam is overwhelming, and he stops thinking.
The second time he's more commanding but still gentle, still an artist with his hands and his tongue before he takes his own pleasure. And Kris keeps silent because he's not objecting, God no, not to what Adam can do.
The third time Kris pushes him, using his own hands, his own mouth, making Adam squirm and beg for it. But even then, when he finally relents, Adam is holding back - almost like he's...apologizing, like this is something that he wants, that isn't enjoyable for Kris. And when Kris realizes that, he almost laughs aloud in the middle of being fucked into the mattress.
So the fourth time, or perhaps the fifth, he loses track, Kris asks if he can top.
Adam stares at him for a long moment. "Are you not - I know it's not something you've ever done before, but I was trying to make it good for you - "
"God, no, that's not it at all." Kris breathes, his hands stilling in Adam's hair. "The opposite, actually. I...I want to show you what it's like, Adam, because you don't seem to know what you do to me. You...you don't seem to understand, I've never...I've never felt so complete as I do, when you're inside me."
Adam stares at him for a moment, mouth half open in shock. "...Oh," He says, helpless. "Kris."
X is for Xenophile
Kris sits in front of the mirror, looking vaguely in the direction of the handheld camera but more distracted by Adam, across the room, and the breathy hint of his voice that says he's singing as he touches up his makeup.
The reporter, a pretty redhead, asks him something. He smiles, because he's recognized the song (Slow Ride - Adam is a sap) and then remembers himself, turning to the camera again. "Sorry." He apologizes, sheepish. "What was that?"
The girl laughs, and he chuckles back. "I said that you're kind of famous for doing covers of pretty obscure songs, and all your own stuff seems to have a sort of weird, out-there twinge to it. Is that just coincidence, or are you a little bit of a xenophile?"
He raises his eyebrows. "A what?"
"A xenophile. It means that you love things that are strange."
Inexorably, his eyes are drawn back across the room, to where Adam is applying tiny rhinestones to his lower eyelids. Kris bites his lip. "Yeah." He says to the reporter. "Yeah, I'd say I am."
Y is for Yours
He says it with every kiss he presses against his skin, every brush of his hand, every long, lingering glance. He says it in the way he cocks his hips, all arrogance, in the way his eyes heat and his lips curl. He says it in the slow lick of his tongue, the nip of his teeth. He says it in his laugh and his grin and his solemn, serious face, the face that he makes when people underestimate his intelligence.
But it still makes his heart skip, makes his breath quicken, when Adam brings the microphone to his lips, right there in front of a crowd suddenly gone quiet, and tells him, "I'm yours."
Z is for Zero
The ball drops, the countdown begins. Kris watches Katy, her arm around Ian Campbell's waist, as she waits, and then turns his eyes away. Adam slides in next to him, steaming cups in his hands, and Kris loses himself in his smile.
Pairing/Characters: Adam/Kris, Kris/Katy, Kradison friendship, Katy/OMC
Wordcount: ~1500
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Everyone mentioned belongs only to themselves, and none of this ever happened. Except the bits they showed on TV.
Author's Note: SO. As lilymajolis suggested back when I was stuck on Q (thank you, love!), I ended up doing a mirror effect. It's not perfectly done - W is too long - but it's nicely symmetrical and I'm happy with how it came out. ::nodnod::
Also, I would like to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who encouraged me through this process. The love I've gotten in response to this series has absolutely blown my mind, and don't worry - I'll be back.
Previous Chapters:
A through J (Plus Author's Note)
K through M
N and O
P and Q
R and S
T is for Truth
They meet at a diner, just the three of them. It's a small place, where no one's likely to recognize them. Adam and Kris slide into one side of the booth, with Alli on the other. She orders a milkshake and fries and then fixes them with a stare that probably meant to be terrifying, but she cracks up in the middle, her laughter just a little nervous.
"Seriously, you guys." She says, leaning forward. "It's not like I, and half the country, haven't been wanting this to happen, but that was all a crazy-ass fantasy world where Kris was single and not completely oblivious. This is real life. What exactly was going on?"
"I was kissing Kris' ribs." Adam says, sipping his coffee. Kris elbows him. "What? I was!"
"Alli." Kris ignores Adam, gearing himself up again for another earnest speech. "This isn't a spur of the moment thing for me - for either of us. I...I really lo - "
"Dude." Alli cuts him off. "I know. I know you guys love each other, I'm Allison, remember? I've been here the whole time! I was asking when that started getting physical, and whether Katy's okay with it, and how the hell Adam finally managed to get you to realize it."
Kris stares at her for a long moment, Adam laughing at him, low and amused, by his side. She smirks, and accepts her chocolate milkshake from the waiter.
Kris laughs. "He kissed me on the ear."
Adam turns and looks at him, surprised. "That's really what did it?"
Alli gestures with her spoon. "Dude, I've seen that clip online! You mean that little chaste kiss was it? He does stuff like that to me all the time."
Adam chuckles at her. "The kiss that followed that clip was anything but chaste, hun."
Her eyebrows fly up. "Yeah? You show him a thing or two about kissing boys?"
"Actually..." Adam glances sidelong at Kris. "He showed me."
Kris looks back, feeling his ears heat up at the sly curl of Adam's lips. "I've gotta say, if Katy's the only one he's ever kissed, she is a fucking amazing kisser. Taught you well, baby."
Alli actually claps her hands at the endearment, slurping down milkshake. She settles herself, face a little more worried. "Which brings me to my other question - "
Kris tears his eyes away from Adam's, his fingers tangling with his boyfriend's on the seat between them. "Yes, she knows." He says, staring at the tabletop. "No, she's not completely happy with it, but then...I can't really blame her, can I?"
Allison looks sympathetic. Not pitying, not sad, just plain sympathetic, uncomplicated, and Kris kind of wants to hug her and never let go. He takes a deep breath, venturing a smile. "We're waiting until after the tour to start the divorce proceedings or make anything public."
Alli nods. "Makes sense." She eats a french fry, thoughtful, and then asks, "Do you think she'll still lend me those awesome shoes?"
Kris stares at her a moment, sees the calculation, the care, in her face, and his smile widens. "Yeah." He says. "I think she will."
Allison grins.
U is for Urgent
Warm hands against stomach, cold tile at his back. Their breathing is harsh in the tiny bathroom, Adam's face stark with the artificial lights and he looks otherworldly, impossible, as Kris fumbles him out of his jeans. His freckles stand out like stars and his stomach trembles at Kris' touch but there's no time, no time to look and linger, no time to do anything but grasp and pinch and shudder, pull and push and moan. His hands are wrapped around Adam - the first time he's really touched, bare skin to bare skin, no denim or leather or cloth in the way and it's glorious, makes him gasp in unison with his lover.
There's no finesse to it - he jerks Adam off quick and dirty, and Adam does the same to him, but as they thrust and crash together Kris can't help but think there's a sort of beauty to it - and maybe that's what Adam does, that's what Adam is - he can bring a crowd listening for his beauty to the edge with a lascivious tongue and gyrating hips, and here, tongue and hips almost come secondary because there's a beauty to him, arched and cursing, there's a beauty to the way they fit together.
Their breath is harmony, their heartbeats rhythm, a wild sort of song.
V is for Voracious
Kris slumps in his chair, a hand over his eyes. He feels chewed-out, terrible, so tired. On the couch, Katy's asleep, curled into herself, circles around her eyes that match his own. She looks awful, golden hair tangled and makeup mussed. He closes his eyes against the sight.
A minute later, and they're open again. His head feels empty, but he can't sleep, can't dream, can't think. He picks up the magazine from the table, one of about a thousand copies.
The Weight of America Too Much To Bear for Idol Kris Allen? The headline says, in blazing red letters, and below it there's a picture of him. He's sick of it - he knows he's unphotogenic, he's too beaten down, he's "depressed".
He throws the magazine across the room. He knows what it says. The same tired quotes from Katy, the same gossiping headlines about when they "fell out", what this had to do with Adam and Kris being seen together more and more.
The same question, again and again: Wouldn't it have been better, maybe, if Adam Lambert had won?
He looks at his phone again. Three new voicemails, now. He's not mad. He's not, not at all, but he's so...
Fuck reporters.
W is for Whole
Adam is careful with him, the first time, like he'll break. Kris curses him out, because he's not a girl, but Adam just raises an eyebrow, and Kris flushes. Yeah, alright, that was a stupid way to object, because obviously -
But even careful, Adam is overwhelming, and he stops thinking.
The second time he's more commanding but still gentle, still an artist with his hands and his tongue before he takes his own pleasure. And Kris keeps silent because he's not objecting, God no, not to what Adam can do.
The third time Kris pushes him, using his own hands, his own mouth, making Adam squirm and beg for it. But even then, when he finally relents, Adam is holding back - almost like he's...apologizing, like this is something that he wants, that isn't enjoyable for Kris. And when Kris realizes that, he almost laughs aloud in the middle of being fucked into the mattress.
So the fourth time, or perhaps the fifth, he loses track, Kris asks if he can top.
Adam stares at him for a long moment. "Are you not - I know it's not something you've ever done before, but I was trying to make it good for you - "
"God, no, that's not it at all." Kris breathes, his hands stilling in Adam's hair. "The opposite, actually. I...I want to show you what it's like, Adam, because you don't seem to know what you do to me. You...you don't seem to understand, I've never...I've never felt so complete as I do, when you're inside me."
Adam stares at him for a moment, mouth half open in shock. "...Oh," He says, helpless. "Kris."
X is for Xenophile
Kris sits in front of the mirror, looking vaguely in the direction of the handheld camera but more distracted by Adam, across the room, and the breathy hint of his voice that says he's singing as he touches up his makeup.
The reporter, a pretty redhead, asks him something. He smiles, because he's recognized the song (Slow Ride - Adam is a sap) and then remembers himself, turning to the camera again. "Sorry." He apologizes, sheepish. "What was that?"
The girl laughs, and he chuckles back. "I said that you're kind of famous for doing covers of pretty obscure songs, and all your own stuff seems to have a sort of weird, out-there twinge to it. Is that just coincidence, or are you a little bit of a xenophile?"
He raises his eyebrows. "A what?"
"A xenophile. It means that you love things that are strange."
Inexorably, his eyes are drawn back across the room, to where Adam is applying tiny rhinestones to his lower eyelids. Kris bites his lip. "Yeah." He says to the reporter. "Yeah, I'd say I am."
Y is for Yours
He says it with every kiss he presses against his skin, every brush of his hand, every long, lingering glance. He says it in the way he cocks his hips, all arrogance, in the way his eyes heat and his lips curl. He says it in the slow lick of his tongue, the nip of his teeth. He says it in his laugh and his grin and his solemn, serious face, the face that he makes when people underestimate his intelligence.
But it still makes his heart skip, makes his breath quicken, when Adam brings the microphone to his lips, right there in front of a crowd suddenly gone quiet, and tells him, "I'm yours."
Z is for Zero
The ball drops, the countdown begins. Kris watches Katy, her arm around Ian Campbell's waist, as she waits, and then turns his eyes away. Adam slides in next to him, steaming cups in his hands, and Kris loses himself in his smile.