Give Me Tonight
Title: Give Me Tonight
Author: morganlight
Pairing: Kradam, yay.
Rating: R? I think. Sex-stuff and implications.
Notes: As said before... I never thought I would actually DO the Kradam thing, but a scene-bunny stole me, and I haven't been able to concentrate. I actually wrote this immediately after reading the RS interview, but it's taken me this long to figure out what to do with it.
Disclaimer: Fiction. Nonprofit. True only in the fictional realm, which some would argue is as true as anything...
Sort of a sequel to Bitter-Sweet. Based on the song by Art of Fighting.
“Did you mean it? About my being your type, and the crush, and all that…”
“Absolutely,” Adam said. He grinned. “I mean, honestly, Kris, when was the last time you heard me say something I didn’t mean?”
Kris smiled widely. “Point.”
Adam tried to read Kris’s face. “I guess it doesn’t make you feel weird?”
“No,” Kris said, a little too soon. “Of course not. I mean…”
He fidgeted and looked at the floor. Adam stared straight at him; a crashing noise came from the other end of the tour bus, but neither seemed to hear it.
“I mean,” Kris continued, “that you’re amazing. I mean, if I were into guys-”
“Stop,” said Adam. “Just stop. You’re just… going to make it harder.”
Sometimes when you’re like this I want no part
There was silence for a moment. Then Kris started giggling. It took Adam a few minutes to get the joke.
“Make it harder?” Kris laughed, falling over sideways into his bunk.
“GODDAMMIT,” Adam cried, also laughing. “I DIDN’T EVEN MEAN TO BE DIRTY!”
There was an explosion of intense laughter. They both burned calories giggling for several minutes, Kris lying askew with his hand over his eyes, Adam bent forward, almost kissing his own knees.
The chuckles died down in stages, like popcorn kernels in a microwave bag.
“I can’t laugh with anybody else like that,” Kris said softly.
Adam wanted to say, Why not?, but he settled for a soft look, slightly inquisitive, still resigned.
If you give me an answer that I can hold onto
Something that we can belong to
Adam scowled internally. The fluidity of gender had always seemed so natural to him - why was the world so obsessed with boxing people in? Why was he so obsessed with it?
“C’mere,” he said, and Kris got up from the bedframe, trusting him - he had no reason not to - and Adam enveloped Kris into a tight hug, having to scoot back on the bunk to make room for both bodies.
Will you make it last?
“God, I wish…” Kris began.
Adam had always considered their hotel room experiment to be just that: an experiment. But his heart opened at those words. “What,” he whispered. “What.”
Like every start you make is a false start
that’s holding you back in the past
“I don’t know.”
“Kris, honey,” he said without even meaning to, “not knowing is the best way to start.”
Kris’s muscles came unclenched then, like a fishing line going slack, and he had to be reeled in. No predatory intentions, Adam convinced himself - just a rod and a reel. Just a catch. Like a what-if. What if I trusted you completely?
With relaxed muscles also came tension in other, perhaps more obvious, areas in which subtlety was impossible.
“Um?” Adam started. “Kris-”
“Shut up,” came the statement. “Just shut up. I don’t know and I don’t care, okay? I don’t fucking care.”
Cause now your indifference has grown
I don’t want to follow your shadow home
Kris pulled his body back - thus far buried against Adam’s shoulder - and closed his eyes.
Adam waited.
Kris kissed him. Again. Earlier than ever.
Your whole world is an early night
But again? Was it really a repeat? There was something different, this time, something more earnest, less speculative. A first-time want.
“Oh god,” Adam breathed. “Don’t do this and then stop.”
“I’m not going to stop.”
Echo over echo, it was cavernous, like he had three ears.
Mouth over mouth, now, except less direction, and more of a So what?
So won’t you do something with me tonight?
Under this pretty sky
The beer, the tour, the stage, the fans, the surreality of it all, said so what? Something shook the bus, likely the engine, but who heard it?
Not Kris, who was taking this, whatever it was, and running with it. Not Adam, who could barely fucking believe his good fortune. They were too busy testing each other. Testing, tasting.
They unfolded just long enough to morph from a hug into a sprawl, moving against the sheets, grinding from sternum to stomach. Adam had to hold himself back-“I don’t want to scare you - oh god, not you,” he said, amidst panting.
“You could never scare me. Never.”
It was like something Adam would have scripted if he could have, if he would have.
But he hadn’t. It wasn’t. There was no script. There was only spontenaeity.
Give me tonight
Say that you might
I’ll make it all right
“Unghhhh,” came his groan, in a lost attempt to be eloquent.
I love you more than anyone.
Was this spoken, or sworn in silence?
He didn’t know. It could have been either.
Adam’s jeans were chafing him. The whole fucking world was chafing him. The daily grind was laughing, defiant.
Rug burn was nothing compared to crotch burn, Adam thought - and then thought again.
It didn’t stop him. Didn’t stop either of them. Friction knows no enemies - not even ‘totally straight’ ones.
Give me tonight
Say that you might
Heat was overtaking. Hips were grinding like the sides of a wrench freed to grasp a screw. There was an existential gap between the heaving breaths and gasping of names - then wetness - then release.
Adam couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten off with his pants still on.
And yet, here were two pairs of wet jeans - one gay, one supposedly straight.
But how did this matter? How would it end?
“I…” Kris began. “I wish you weren’t...”
Adam thought, it doesn’t matter.
Because it didn’t. Not tonight.
I’ll make it all right.
Author: morganlight
Pairing: Kradam, yay.
Rating: R? I think. Sex-stuff and implications.
Notes: As said before... I never thought I would actually DO the Kradam thing, but a scene-bunny stole me, and I haven't been able to concentrate. I actually wrote this immediately after reading the RS interview, but it's taken me this long to figure out what to do with it.
Disclaimer: Fiction. Nonprofit. True only in the fictional realm, which some would argue is as true as anything...
Sort of a sequel to Bitter-Sweet. Based on the song by Art of Fighting.
“Did you mean it? About my being your type, and the crush, and all that…”
“Absolutely,” Adam said. He grinned. “I mean, honestly, Kris, when was the last time you heard me say something I didn’t mean?”
Kris smiled widely. “Point.”
Adam tried to read Kris’s face. “I guess it doesn’t make you feel weird?”
“No,” Kris said, a little too soon. “Of course not. I mean…”
He fidgeted and looked at the floor. Adam stared straight at him; a crashing noise came from the other end of the tour bus, but neither seemed to hear it.
“I mean,” Kris continued, “that you’re amazing. I mean, if I were into guys-”
“Stop,” said Adam. “Just stop. You’re just… going to make it harder.”
Sometimes when you’re like this I want no part
There was silence for a moment. Then Kris started giggling. It took Adam a few minutes to get the joke.
“Make it harder?” Kris laughed, falling over sideways into his bunk.
“GODDAMMIT,” Adam cried, also laughing. “I DIDN’T EVEN MEAN TO BE DIRTY!”
There was an explosion of intense laughter. They both burned calories giggling for several minutes, Kris lying askew with his hand over his eyes, Adam bent forward, almost kissing his own knees.
The chuckles died down in stages, like popcorn kernels in a microwave bag.
“I can’t laugh with anybody else like that,” Kris said softly.
Adam wanted to say, Why not?, but he settled for a soft look, slightly inquisitive, still resigned.
If you give me an answer that I can hold onto
Something that we can belong to
Adam scowled internally. The fluidity of gender had always seemed so natural to him - why was the world so obsessed with boxing people in? Why was he so obsessed with it?
“C’mere,” he said, and Kris got up from the bedframe, trusting him - he had no reason not to - and Adam enveloped Kris into a tight hug, having to scoot back on the bunk to make room for both bodies.
Will you make it last?
“God, I wish…” Kris began.
Adam had always considered their hotel room experiment to be just that: an experiment. But his heart opened at those words. “What,” he whispered. “What.”
Like every start you make is a false start
that’s holding you back in the past
“I don’t know.”
“Kris, honey,” he said without even meaning to, “not knowing is the best way to start.”
Kris’s muscles came unclenched then, like a fishing line going slack, and he had to be reeled in. No predatory intentions, Adam convinced himself - just a rod and a reel. Just a catch. Like a what-if. What if I trusted you completely?
With relaxed muscles also came tension in other, perhaps more obvious, areas in which subtlety was impossible.
“Um?” Adam started. “Kris-”
“Shut up,” came the statement. “Just shut up. I don’t know and I don’t care, okay? I don’t fucking care.”
Cause now your indifference has grown
I don’t want to follow your shadow home
Kris pulled his body back - thus far buried against Adam’s shoulder - and closed his eyes.
Adam waited.
Kris kissed him. Again. Earlier than ever.
Your whole world is an early night
But again? Was it really a repeat? There was something different, this time, something more earnest, less speculative. A first-time want.
“Oh god,” Adam breathed. “Don’t do this and then stop.”
“I’m not going to stop.”
Echo over echo, it was cavernous, like he had three ears.
Mouth over mouth, now, except less direction, and more of a So what?
So won’t you do something with me tonight?
Under this pretty sky
The beer, the tour, the stage, the fans, the surreality of it all, said so what? Something shook the bus, likely the engine, but who heard it?
Not Kris, who was taking this, whatever it was, and running with it. Not Adam, who could barely fucking believe his good fortune. They were too busy testing each other. Testing, tasting.
They unfolded just long enough to morph from a hug into a sprawl, moving against the sheets, grinding from sternum to stomach. Adam had to hold himself back-“I don’t want to scare you - oh god, not you,” he said, amidst panting.
“You could never scare me. Never.”
It was like something Adam would have scripted if he could have, if he would have.
But he hadn’t. It wasn’t. There was no script. There was only spontenaeity.
Give me tonight
Say that you might
I’ll make it all right
“Unghhhh,” came his groan, in a lost attempt to be eloquent.
I love you more than anyone.
Was this spoken, or sworn in silence?
He didn’t know. It could have been either.
Adam’s jeans were chafing him. The whole fucking world was chafing him. The daily grind was laughing, defiant.
Rug burn was nothing compared to crotch burn, Adam thought - and then thought again.
It didn’t stop him. Didn’t stop either of them. Friction knows no enemies - not even ‘totally straight’ ones.
Give me tonight
Say that you might
Heat was overtaking. Hips were grinding like the sides of a wrench freed to grasp a screw. There was an existential gap between the heaving breaths and gasping of names - then wetness - then release.
Adam couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten off with his pants still on.
And yet, here were two pairs of wet jeans - one gay, one supposedly straight.
But how did this matter? How would it end?
“I…” Kris began. “I wish you weren’t...”
Adam thought, it doesn’t matter.
Because it didn’t. Not tonight.
I’ll make it all right.