samanthahirr: (golden years)
[personal profile] samanthahirr
Title: Ready Now (If You Can Wait a Little More)
Fandom: American Idol (Adam/Kris)
Word Count: 44,500 [complete]
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: No infringement on the rights of real people intended. Not profiting in any way.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI


Kris's sleep cycles were hopelessly screwed up.

He woke up sweating at 5 a.m., Adam's arm thrown across his chest. Kris folded the arm carefully back onto Adam's side of the bed and pushed the blankets off, trying to cool down so he could get back to sleep, but it was hopeless. It was humid as a rain forest in the room, and he needed fresh air. He got up and dug a pair of Adam's too-long sweatpants out of a drawer so he could go out on the balcony and cool down in the December chill. He paused in the bedroom doorway, listening past the hiss of the humidifier to hear Adam's breathing, now slow and quiet. Kris sighed in relief and closed the door behind him.

The view was spectacular—moonlight making the Getty Museum glow ghostly white in the darkness of the surrounding hills. Kris leaned against the steel railing and looked down onto the pool area, noticed the silver Christmas tree and fake snow display sparkling around the cabana tents, and smiled wistfully. Closing his eyes, he said a prayer of thanks for everything that had gone right and everything that could go right in their future.

When he eventually retreated to the warmth of the ultra-chic living room, he found his phone on one of the couches and checked his e-mail. There was a new message from Vanessa, letting him know that 19E was officially voiding his contract to perform at the New Year's Eve show. She was certain he didn't actually care given the circumstances, though. He smiled at the despairing tone of her text and sent her a thank you note; he honestly wouldn't have gotten through the last two days without her.

Now that Kris was completely awake, he wanted to wake Adam up, wanted to kiss him, touch him, and spend time with him, but Adam needed his rest and—to Kris's chagrin—that swampy air. So he stayed where he was and played with his phone some more, scrolled through his messages and found the e-mail with Adam's set list. After a quick glance at the hallway to make sure Adam wasn't standing there watching him, Kris opened the set list again and looked at it with new eyes.

A little after 7, Kris heard the toilet flush in the master bathroom and finally placed the call for room service.

Adam stumbled out in boxers a few minutes later, and the first thing he did was slump next to Kris on the couch, cuddling up against him. "You're here," he said, voice rough from sleep and two days screaming in a basement in Pasadena. Kris shied away from that thought and got an arm around Adam's shoulders, squeezed his warm, soft skin.

"Course I am," he smiled. "Sleep okay?"

Adam nodded. "Yeah." His head slowly relaxed back onto the pillows and he closed his eyes, and Kris listened to his much improved breathing for a long time before he noticed how slow it was getting.

"Are you falling asleep on me?" he asked, indignant.

Adam's eyes fluttered open for a moment and then sank shut again. "You're watching The Weather Channel," Adam yawned.

"It's the one station not talking about you."

Adam grinned, and Kris fondly watched his face relax toward sleep. And then Kris sighed, untangled himself, and went to haul the damned humidifier out of the bedroom.

Twenty minutes later room service knocked on the door and Kris jostled Adam off his shoulder. "Hey, breakfast, wake up."

Adam grumbled and let Kris prop him against the back cushion. He was still blinking heavily after Kris had sent the waiter away with a $10 tip and wheeled the full cart over to the couch, but he seemed to come back to life when he sniffed the food. "Coffee?" he asked hopefully.

Kris poured himself a mug of black coffee, slurped a big, noisy sip, and set it down on the low table. "No coffee for you."


"I got you decaf lemon tea. With honey." He dunked two tea bags into the pot to steep. Adam's jaw stuck out like he wanted to fight him on it, but Kris gave him his mom's I-know-what's-best-for-you look and lifted the silver lids off the plates to distract him. "And sausage, bacon, and western omelets."

"Egg whites?"

"Yes, and your sausages are tofu. Although considering the last few days, you don't need to worry about what you eat for a while."

"You haven't seen Friday's costume," Adam said, working his mouth into a tired smirk. "Gimme."

Kris transferred the plates to the glass coffee table, along with the glasses of orange juice and silverware, and dug in.

Adam plowed through his omelet and sausage, and then ate half of Kris's bacon while he was watching the forecast for Arkansas. "Hey!" Kris protested when he caught Adam reaching for the last piece.

"What?" Adam asked, batting his eyes. "You said I shouldn't worry about what I ate…."

"I didn't mean my breakfast!"

"Go ahead, try to hate me," Adam dared with a smile.

Kris huffed and considered Adam's plate, but there was nothing left worth stealing. "Drink your tea," he ordered.

When they were done eating, Kris leaned back against the arm of the sofa, his feet in Adam's lap, third cup of coffee in hand. "You sound so much better than yesterday."

"I know," Adam agreed happily, still talking softly, but sounding almost normal. "I was really worried about that. But I think if I don't talk for two days, I'll be good to go by show time."

"You'd better be. I'd hate to hear you croaking and hacking your way through your Kris Allen: This Is Your Life retrospective."

He watched carefully for Adam's reaction, although he needn't have bothered; there was nothing subtle about the bright red flush that spread over Adam's skin or the way he ducked his head over his tea.

"This is the part where you explain your crazy-ass set list," Kris prompted, nudging him in the stomach with his toes.

"I'm sorry," Adam mumbled innocently into his cup, "'m not supposed to be talking."

Kris ignored the excuse. He'd made his big declaration last night; now it was Adam's turn to confess. "You're singing The Allman Brothers. What the hell are the Glamberts gonna think of that?"

"I'm not gonna tell them it's The Allman Brothers," Adam said weakly. "We made it less country, and anyway, I sound really good on it."

Kris could imagine. Please Call Home was so heartfelt and bluesy; he could already hear how Adam would wail the bridge.

"And that was totally a secret. Who showed you the set list?"

"Your band! I was supposed to sing it for you, remember? You made me choose between all my favorites; it was kinda hard not to figure out you were up to something."

Adam sighed and leaned forward, picked up his fork and pushed at a bit of green pepper and cheese on his plate. "I thought…I wanted to impress you. So you'd, you know…."

"So I'd what? You made an entire concert for me, so I would…." He waited for Adam to fill in that blank, but when no answer was forthcoming, he started offering his own ideas: "Put out? Hit you on the head and drag you back to my cave? What?"

"…Admit you wanna be with me," he finished reluctantly.

"Admit I want to be with you? Adam, I did that on Sunday."

"I know, and you totally stole my thunder," he complained, sullen blue eyes looking up through his eyelashes. "I had it all worked out to make you fall for me, and you go and throw yourself at me less than a week before the show!"

He sounded so annoyed Kris actually had to laugh. "I'm sorry I ruined your plans," he said, not really meaning it. "But why on earth did you think you had to do all that? You know me; all you had to do was be yourself."

"I didn't wanna screw it up like before. And Katy knows you better than anyone," Adam explained—as though that explained anything.

"Okay, maybe," Kris allowed, "but what does that have to do with the show?"

"I've kind of been talking to her. A lot. Asking for advice," he admitted. "Don't be mad."

Kris wasn't mad, he was just really confused. Because Katy hadn't said anything about it, which didn't make sense when they'd spent the last few days talking about nothing but Adam. "What? Since when?"

"I called her, after the divorce was finalized. I wanted to apologize for everything—"

"It wasn't your fault," Kris tried to cut him off.

"And that's what she said," Adam continued. "She was so fucking sweet about it, it blew my mind. Said all she wanted was for you to be happy now. And that meant getting us together."

"Oh God," Kris groaned. Why was everyone he knew determined to play matchmaker for him and Adam?

"She told me you were in love with me," Adam said, a sympathetic grimace on his face as if he appreciated the depths of Kris's embarrassment. "But that you would never, ever do anything about it until you got your head out of your ass."

"Uh huh. Go on." Kris turned to his coffee for solace. His coffee would never rat out his secrets to the object of his affection.

"So I had to show you how I felt with a really dramatic gesture. Using the concert was her idea—she helped me pick which of your songs—"

"Wait," Kris said, sitting up and cutting him off, his own embarrassment suddenly forgotten. "Katy told you you could, what, 'win my heart' by…. She said I needed a big, over-the-top spectacle?"


"Adam. Dude." This was rich. This was absolutely priceless. "She may know me, but I know Katy. Her favorite movies are romantic comedies. You know, the ones that end with the guys in tuxedos standing in the rain making humiliating, public declarations to win the girl back."

Adam's sympathetic expression started to look a little strained. "Uh."

"Yeah. My favorites are action movies. She likes to see the men grovel and crawl. In public."

"Uh…." Adam was looking positively pale.

Kris threw back his head and cackled, "Oh, this must've been a dream come true for her! You let her talk you into standing in front of your fans and making a big 'I'm in love with Kris Allen' spectacle of yourself?"

"That could be one interpretation of tomorrow's show," he said faintly.

"Oh, man. This is gonna be hysterical."

"It was going to be fucking touching," Adam protested too loudly, his voice going hoarse as he pointed an accusatory finger at Kris. "You totally would've fallen in love with me!"

"You already knew I was in love with you, dumbass! And let me guess: Katy wanted a ticket so she could watch the humiliation firsthand?"

Adam wadded up his linen napkin and threw it at him. "She's punishing me, isn't she?"

Kris rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding? She adores you. This is just her idea of grand romance. But since you already know I love you, and I know you love me enough to sing country, I guess you don't have to go through with it—"

"Of course I do! The show's tomorrow! It's all costumed and choreographed! I can't start making changes now: 19E would kill me!"

"And Katy would be crushed."

Adam sighed, resigned. "So tomorrow night it's the Hey-World-I'm-in-Love-with-Kris-Allen show. And you'd better not even think of skipping it."

Kris's grin softened into something gentler. "Why would I wanna miss that?" he asked.

Adam shot him a disgruntled look, probably expecting another joke at his expense. But Kris leaned over and caught Adam's hand to pull him closer.

"Hey," Kris said, getting distracted from his goal of kissing the frown off Adam's face. He thumbed the edge of one of the white bandages. "Can I see?"

Adam frowned at the thick gauze wrapped around his wrists and shook his head. "They're not pretty."

"I don't care about that," Kris coaxed, edging a finger along the tape, looking for the seam.

But Adam shook his head again. "If you look, then I'm gonna look. And I really don't wanna do that."

Kris thought about being stubborn, because he really wanted to see them; in his head, he could kiss them and magically make them better. That wasn't how the real world worked, though. "Okay," he relented, let go of Adam's wrist and reached up to kiss his mouth.

That part worked like a charm. Adam smiled, frown forgotten, and cupped his cheek, kissed back, lips tugging at Kris's lower lip. Kris pressed a little closer, looking for a deeper caress, and Adam leaned in, tongue sweeping in to stroke and tease, gentle at first, and then more insistent when Kris moaned.

He pulled back. "I meant to go slower last night," Adam breathed, stroking his palm across Kris's collarbones. "I waited so long…."

"My fault, all my fault," Kris said, his heart wrenching unexpectedly. He bit Adam's lip to prompt another kiss.

"Gonna take my time with you," Adam promised, mouthed a kiss at the corner of Kris's smile. "Show you everything we could've…." Adam licked hard up his cheek, wet against the stubble, and then tipped Kris's chin back so he could look him in the eyes. "Gorgeous," he whispered and kissed him again, this time fierce and possessive. He ducked his head, kissed under Kris's chin, along his jaw, down to his throat, and Kris's back arched under the torturously slow onslaught, Adam's skin hot against his own as Adam sucked a mark into his neck, stinging and dizzying.

Kris gasped and held on to Adam's shoulders as that amazing mouth worked on his neck, teeth dragging over the sensitized flesh, making Kris shiver uncontrollably. Adam was getting hard in his boxers, and Kris jerked and moaned again when a wet patch of cotton brushed his thigh. He remembered that taste, from last night, from more than a year ago, remembered how he'd craved it, like a fever in his blood. "Please," he begged, holding Adam's head right there, where he was marking Kris, telling him without words how much he'd always wanted him.

A loud knock startled his eyes open. Kris blinked and loosened his grip on Adam's hair, but Adam hummed and bit lightly, and Kris's body shook, breath catching in his throat. He shifted to lie back against the couch, pulling Adam with him until the taller man was stretched out between his thighs and they were skin on skin, Adam's pulse beating in time with Kris's.

The knock came again, louder. Adam grumbled and said, "They'll go away."

As if the visitor had heard, the knock trebled in speed and force, making the locks rattle. "Adam, I know you're awake! You ordered breakfast from room service!"

"Fuck off, Donald!" Adam yelled back.

"No, you fuck off! And open this fucking door!"

Kris reluctantly moved his hands off Adam's head, and Adam eased off of him, contrition on his face. "I'll get rid of him. You stay right—" he kissed Kris, deep and lingering, igniting sparks in Kris's veins again, "—here."

Kris's head fell back and he closed his eyes, counted to ten so he wouldn't touch himself or scream or drag Adam back down to the sofa.

Adam stomped to the door and flipped the locks and security bar. Kris heard the soft whoosh of the door opening, and Adam demanding, "What do you want?"

And then there was more stomping on the carpet, and Donald, sounding a lot closer, shouting, "What do I want? I want you to do your fucking job is what I—"

Kris's eyes flew open and he stared at Donald, who was standing in the hotel room staring at him, at Kris sprawled shirtless in tented sweatpants, still flushed, an extra bloom of heat on his throat. Kris knew this looked bad, wouldn't even fool the casual observer, and Donald was anything but casual as he glared and shook off Adam's attempts to push him back out the door.

"Seriously, I'm busy. You need to come back later. A lot later."

Donald whipped around and said, still loud, "Yes, you are busy. Busy getting ready to go. Dress rehearsal starts in half a fucking hour, and if you want to sing at your own concert, you're going to fucking be there. You are not going to keep your band, eight backup dancers, and a dozen techs and assistants waiting while you fuck the American Idol, even if I have to stand here watching you to make sure that doesn't happen."

A ferocious argument started between Adam and his short agent, and Kris was glad to be out of the line of fire for the moment. He picked up a tiny orange pillow and placed it in his lap, trying to look inconspicuous.

Finally, after a lot of insults and an intense staring match, Adam sighed and backed down. "Fuck. Whatever. Ten minutes," he rasped, voice deteriorated by all the shouting.

"Ten minutes of getting ready," Donald insisted, and Adam scowled and marched over to the couch, leaned down and licked into Kris's mouth for a wet, defiant kiss. His thumb rubbed hard against the bruise on Kris's neck and Kris whimpered when Adam pulled back to smirk at Donald.

"Come on, baby," Adam said and dragged him off the sofa, pulling him toward the bedroom.

Unfortunately, all they did in the bedroom was get Adam dressed. Kris found a long-sleeved t-shirt long enough to cover his bandages, and Adam squeezed into skinny jeans and low boots. He threw some water on his face, gelled his hair into place, put on a little eyeliner, dabbed concealer on his left cheek, and then pulled Kris back out to the living room.

Adam banged on the balcony door to get Donald's attention, and the agent came back inside, hanging up his phone. Adam grabbed a messenger bag off the armchair and headed for the kitchen, leaving Kris and Donald unexpectedly alone together.

"Um," Kris said awkwardly.

Donald sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, said, "Don't even. Just. What's Vanessa's phone number?"

Adam came back a minute later drinking a fresh bottle of water and shoved a bag filled with a dozen more bottles at Donald. "I'll meet you downstairs," he said pointedly.

Donald took the bag but stubbornly stood his ground.

"Alright, god," Adam huffed. He walked over to Kris and frowned, reached out toward Kris's face again.

Kris dodged this time, walked around him to get a small box off the room service cart. "Here. I got you cough drops. And no singing, okay?"

Adam beamed and took the box, looked at Donald and gave Kris a quick, gentler peck on the lips. "I promise. See you tonight?"

Kris grinned.

He moved to lock the door after them and heard Donald saying as they headed to the elevator, in a much friendlier tone, "Marty and Big Joe are downstairs. And I got you that new cell phone—this one's an upgrade…."

No one tried to take Kris's photo or grab an interview as he walked up the drive to his apartment building an hour later. They were doubtless back to stalking Adam already. Kris enjoyed the anonymity while he could—things were going to be pretty different once the press figured out they were a couple. Speaking of….

Kris called Katy as soon as he got inside; she deserved to know before anyone else.

"Hey, babe," she said when she answered the phone, and he heard the sound of running water.

"Hey. You're not doing those dishes, are you?"

"No way," she laughed. "Just watering the plants. What's up?"

"Oh, I um. I wanted to tell you something. Before you saw it on the news."

"Too late, I already saw," she said, getting excited.

Kris gulped. She'd already seen? How was that possible? They hadn't been out in public…there had been paparazzi outside the W last night, but none this morning….

"I can't believe we called it," she gushed. "I mean, they're saying they suspected as early as Monday, but I don't know if I believe that."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"The guy from The Crystal Club. Why…what were you talking about?"

The conversation Kris thought he was having took a sharp turn, and he had to catch his breath for a second before blurting, "Wait, what?"

"You've been watching the news, right? You saw they arrested him?"

"No! Was he really the one who took Adam?"

"Yes, oh my God, where have you been?!"

"With Adam!" he defended himself. As far as he was concerned, no news—even this news—could have been more important than that.

"With…." She was silent for a moment, making her own course adjustment. "Is that what you were gonna tell me? Kris, did you and Adam hook up?!" she demanded.

He coughed. "Um, yeah? He called last night, so I went over to his hotel and uh." He trailed off, unwilling to go into any more detail.

"Oh my God!" she shouted, forcing him to pull the phone away from his ear.

"Yeah," he agreed from a safe distance.

She sounded confused, uncertain when she said, "I thought…. I mean, this is great. But I thought it would take you—"

Kris knew exactly what she'd been thinking, and he couldn't help a satisfied grin. "Uh huh," he interrupted. "Sorry if this ruins the dramatic finale you and Adam were planning for me."

"What?" she squeaked.

"You are so busted; Adam spilled the beans about your strategy sessions."

"Oh goodness. Kris, sweetie…."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me!" he rubbed it in, determined to make her squirm. "I can't believe you were planning this behind my back! I can't believe you didn't tell me when I told you I was going to sing it myself! You were practically crying!"

She laughed nervously. "I'm sorry, but it was just so…."

"Romantic, I know."

"Okay, I so wanted to tell you when you were freaking out, because I just knew Adam wouldn't duck out on that concert. But we'd worked on it for months. And if we'd pulled it off…you would've loved it."

"I'm sure it'll still be something," he allowed, hoping she couldn't hear his smile.

"Wait, is he still gonna do it?" Katy asked, sounding confused.

"Of course; I'm not gonna let him off this hook. He's rehearsing it at the club right now."

"But. How can they still have the show there when the owner's been arrested?"

And the conversation veered left again, catching him off guard. "I don't…. Tell me what the news said about it. I haven't heard any of this."

"They said the owner paid two of the club's bouncers to hold Adam until the show was canceled. They kept him in one of their houses, tied up. The guy's been in prison before!" her voice was hushed with dread.

"Who, the owner?"

"No, the bouncer. But the owner—E! admitted he was their source when they said the show was canceled."

So Hopkins had planted that rumor himself and then called 19E to pressure them into canceling…. Kris's hand clenched in a fist and he dragged his knuckles over the edge of the counter to feel the sharp, controlled impacts. "Son of a bitch."

"The Feds claimed they'd focused on him from the beginning 'cause he took a lot of cash out of his bank on Saturday. And when the bouncers started spending all of it, they worked on them until they confessed everything. It sounds to me like the Feds are covering their asses, though. They didn't tell you anything about this when they were beating up on you."

He wanted to agree with her, he really did, because he still resented Foltz for the way she'd scared him, but she'd also said she had other leads. And of course she couldn't have talked about them at the time. It was his own fault for assuming she was at a dead end just because she wasn't letting him in on confidential information.

Foltz could have at least said something to him in the hospital, though. Like 'you were right; good job.' Or 'sorry I threatened to put you and Cale in jail.'

Kris wasn't sure if he owed Foltz an apology for doubting her competence or if he should strangle her. But she had saved Adam. Maybe he could live with an apology after all. He shook out his hand, rubbed his knuckles, and made himself answer Katy's earlier question.

"I'll ask Adam what's up with the club. He's been texting from rehearsal."

"How's he doing? Like, really, how's he taking everything?"

Kris smiled and settled into something he actually wanted to talk about; how amazing Adam was.

Adam's texts to Kris on Thursday morning were a series of banal updates, barely more enlightening than his first official Tweet back: Home safe & sound! Gonna celebrate being alive w/ singing & dancing tomorrow. Who's with me?

He texted Kris about the fans lined up outside the club to welcome him back; about the salad his PA brought him for lunch; about Monte doing all his talking for him; about how hard it was to not sing too soon. He even answered Kris's question about the venue-situation, just saying the club's manager was totally a lovely person. Unlike the asshole-owner.

He sent Kris a picture of his shiny performance hair and makeup reflected in a dressing room mirror as a sneak peek. Kris was more interested in the bottom half of the picture, where he could see Adam's whole chest bare down to his belt. He wrote Adam back: Not nice to tease. Take off yr pants.

The texts got a lot dirtier after that.

Sexting in public wasn't actually a good idea, Kris discovered over burgers with Allison, Anoop, and Matt. One moment he was blushing and typing under the table, trying to come up with gay dirty talk to keep up with Adam, and the next Allison had grabbed his phone and was reading his messages for the other guys to hear.

She giggled as she quoted Adam's latest, "You're gonna scream so loud I'll have to gag you with my cock—" and Anoop spit his soda across their burgers.

Matt turned lobster red, Kris's twin, and slapped the phone out of her hands. "Put that shit away, man," he begged, staring at the phone like he thought it would bite him.

Kris shoved the phone in his pocket, so embarrassed he could barely speak for the rest of the meal.

At 5 o'clock, Adam texted, Fuck. Overtime. Meet me when I'm done?

Just tell me when, Kris answered, and grabbed a bag of chips while he settled in to watch one of the Bowl games he'd TiVo'ed on his big living room plasma.

Someone pounded on his apartment door just past 8 p.m., and Kris looked up, confused. No one made it past the high rise's front desk without calling up, and his phone was sitting on his chest, absolutely silent. "Who is it?" he called.

"It's me," said someone who sounded like Adam, and Kris threw the empty bag behind the couch, turned off the TV, and hurried to open his door.

"You didn't call—" he started to say, but Adam was already inside and pushing him against the wall, kissing him hard, urgent, nothing like that morning. "What's—" Kris gasped when Adam gave him a chance to breathe. "What's the matter?"

Adam shook his head, said, "Nothing, everything's amazing. Baby. Baby." And he kissed Kris again until he was almost drowning in it, barely aware of Adam tugging Kris's shirts up.

"Adam, what's the matter," Kris repeated muzzily when the fabric slipped over his head, interrupting the kiss. Because this wasn't what he'd expected, and he wasn't sure it was what he wanted, either, not if Adam was upset. "Did something freak you out?"

Adam shoved him even harder against the wall, bent his knees to grind their hips together and said, sucking on an earlobe, "Agent Foltz came by, said it's closed, they all confessed. And she said— She said you'd figured it out, too, without her even telling you anything."

Kris's stomach twisted and he turned his head away, not sure he could deal with the gratitude, Adam's or his own, not with Adam's cock hard against his thigh, his own cock getting hard in his jeans under the insistent friction. It was too much for right now.

Adam kept whispering against his skin, voice breaking, "They could've gotten it wrong—they don't know me or the people I work with. But you do. If you hadn't been looking for me, I might still be there, in the dark—"

And that undid Kris, the thought of Adam still missing, still alone and hurting, and suddenly he was just as lost as Adam, a fist of emotion closing off his air, choking him. Kris grabbed at his hair and kissed him frantically, held on like Adam might be taken from him again.

Adam's hands were between them, unzipping Kris's fly and pushing his jeans down, and Kris could feel Adam's fingers shaking against his skin. Adam dragged his lips down Kris's throat, found the mark he'd put on his neck that morning and bit. Kris writhed and bucked, nails scratching heedlessly at Adam's scalp, and tried to catch his breath as he fell apart.

"You," Adam was still whispering, "you knew. You found me," and Kris should make him stop saying that—the FBI had found him; Kris had just guessed long after the wheels were in motion—but it was heady, that feeling like he'd done something right for Adam, helped bring him home somehow. All Kris could do was close his eyes tight and whimper.

And then Adam was on the floor, kneeling in front of him, getting his boxers down and licking at the head of his cock. Kris bucked toward his mouth and Adam sucked him in deep, until his cock was touching the back of Adam's throat and a single clear thought pierced through the haze of heat and need.

"No, stop," he gasped, yanking hard on black hair until Adam pulled off with a complaining note and looked up at him. "You can't. Your voice," Kris pleaded, hoping Adam would agree. He wouldn't be able to stop him a second time, not faced with Adam's red lips, wet with saliva, so close to his weeping cock. Adam pressed his face to Kris's thigh and inhaled deeply, fingers digging into Kris's hips when he exhaled on a groan. Stubble rubbed against the too-sensitive skin of his cock and Kris whimpered, trying to keep his legs under him. "Please," Kris said, tugging more gently.

Adam climbed to his feet and leaned against him, tipped Kris's head back to lick into his mouth for a suffocating moment. "What do you want?" he asked, voice rough with urgency.

A million possibilities overloaded Kris's brain, all the things Adam had texted, things he'd never even dreamed of wanting before now; they left him mute and shaking.

Adam bit at his jaw line. "Kris, tell me."

"You," was the only answer Kris could give, and he arched helplessly when Adam rolled their hips together, denim and metal rough against Kris's naked cock.

"Anything, you can have anything," Adam promised, mouthing at his cheek, his upper lip.

Everything felt so good with Adam, there was no way he could make a decision like that. He slid his hands under Adam's shirt, managed to pull it up and off despite the tangle of heavy jewelry, tried to show him how much he wanted Adam, just Adam, by touching him everywhere he could reach.

"Fuck me," Adam said in Kris's ear, and Kris was so distracted by Adam's hot skin and his intoxicatingly familiar scent of rehearsal sweat that it took him a long time to notice the difference in the stresses. It wasn't an exclamation; it was an offer.

Lust punched him in the gut, a hard hit that left him breathless. "You— Oh my God," Kris choked and shoved Adam away so he could get off the wall, could grab Adam's face and kiss his lips, back him toward the bedroom on tiptoes.

Adam held on tight, a strong arm locked around his waist, his teeth biting at Kris's lower lip. Kris kicked off his own pants, and they tore at Adam's belt buckle together. When Adam sat on the end of the bed, Kris wrenched his boots and tight jeans off before following Adam across the tangled covers. He came down on top of him, chest to chest, and kissed him again, unable to stop the frantic pace of his heart, the feeling he would die if he didn't get as close as possible.

He ground their cocks together, got a hand between their stomachs to grab Adam's hard length, rubbed his thumb across the head and Adam arched off the bed.

"C'mon, baby, I need you," Adam pleaded, his eyes closed.

Kris wanted to comply, wanted to take care of Adam, give him anything he needed, but he didn't know how. He put his forehead down on Adam's shoulder, tried to catch his breath and concentrate. "Adam," he husked desperately, unable to stop jacking his hand. "What do I need?" One of Adam's messages had described working Kris open on his fingers, getting him slick for his cock. Kris had lotion under the bed, but he was pretty sure that wasn't what Adam had meant.

"Pocket," Adam said, and Kris turned around, reached over the edge of the bed and grabbed Adam's jeans.

He found a condom and a little black packet of personal lubricant and smiled with relief. "My fingers, right?" he asked, already tearing the packet open.

"Yeah, slow, work the muscle open."

Adam spread his legs for him, knees coming up a little. Kris crawled back up the bed and looked down and gulped, squeezed the slick liquid onto his fingers. It was silky smooth, felt insanely good, and he thought of it on his cock. Later. First, he took a deep breath and pressed a trembling finger to Adam's hole, not sure it would work but pressing in anyway. His finger sunk in slowly and he gasped at the tight heat, Adam squirming and shifting to get more comfortable. Kris made himself move slow like Adam had said, pushed in and pulled out, twisted his finger like Adam had done to him once.

And it came back, the memory of what that had felt like, the pleasure so sharp and startling. Kris bit his lip and watched Adam's face, needing to see that sensation reflected there, to know he was making Adam feel good. Adam had his head back, mouth open, but he wasn't gasping with pleasure like Kris had done. Kris frowned and moved his finger around, tried to do something different. It wasn't working, and he wanted to cry with frustration.

Adam sighed, said, "Okay, two now." And then he jerked and gasped, hips twisting under Kris's hand. Kris did it again, pressed right there, and Adam shook. "Fuck! Oh, that's it, honey. You're a natural," he panted, his voice pitched higher.

Hot pride replaced frustration and Kris squeezed more slick on his fingers and pushed in with two. It was tighter, but he knew what he was aiming for now, and Adam made the most amazing moans when he pressed, slid out, pressed again.

"Three," Adam begged a minute later, urgency back in his voice, his neck glistening with sweat, fingers squeezing and rolling his own pierced nipples, hips rocking up on Kris's fingers. Adam's cock was leaking precum onto his stomach, and Kris couldn't resist ducking down and licking it off, salty-bitter and delicious, before pulling his fingers out.

"You're beautiful," Kris said, marveling at the way Adam's body stretched open for three fingers, the way Adam tossed his head. There were smudges on his cheeks from eye makeup sweating off, and he was still wearing all his necklaces, silver shining on his flushed, freckled skin, light catching the barbells in his nipples, and Kris couldn't tear his eyes away, not even to blink.

He twisted his fingers, squeezed a bruise into Adam's hip when he arched off the bed, and then Adam gasped, "Okay, you now. Come on."

Kris reached for the condom and got it on, smeared the last of the lube on his cock and shuddered, all the concentration he'd been lavishing on Adam suddenly divided as his own body clamored for immediate attention. He squeezed hard at the base of his cock, trying to get himself under control.

Adam shifted around him, lifted his knees to his chest, and Kris stared down at him, awed and a little afraid. "Please, baby," Adam said again, his blue eyes open and desperate.

Kris couldn't worry when Adam was looking at him like that, so he moved, carefully positioned the head of his cock against Adam's body and pressed forward. Adam shivered and exhaled loudly, body somehow opening up and taking it, and Kris lost the ability to breathe.

"Kris," Adam whispered when he was fully inside an eternity later, his long, lean body trembling under and around him.

"Oh my God," Kris whimpered, feeling like he was about to come just from the intense pressure, the silky heat, and the knowledge that it was Adam, that he finally had Adam. "I can't even."

"You found me," Adam said again, hands coming up to pet his cheeks in wonder. "You'll always find me—"

Kris's hips bucked hard, out of his control, as Adam's words lashed him with raw emotion; too much trust, too much love and everything that went with it. He closed his eyes and tried to stop himself, but the drag as he pulled back was so sweet he thought his heart would burst.

Adam kept talking, kept saying things like, "You were all I thought about—getting back to you before you left," and, "You were looking for me the whole time."

It was more than he could bear. "Stop it. Stop, Adam, please," Kris begged, even as his hips slammed forward, his arms braced on the mattress, rocking in, in, in, until he lucked into that magic spot again and Adam's words dissolved into moans of ecstasy.

Kris tried to hang on, tried to make it last. Adam was jerking himself off, knuckles brushing against Kris's stomach in counterpoint to his thrusts, and Kris bent himself over and got his mouth on one of Adam's nipples, licked and sucked, doing everything he could think of to get Adam there first.

Without warning, Adam arched off the bed and yelled, his strong body clenching down so tight around Kris's cock that Kris came, too, with a surprised shout, his entire body shaking as it hit him like lightning, a jolt of pleasure through his whole nervous system that left him twitching and gasping, all his muscles gone weak. He managed not to land on Adam, rolled to the side when Adam's legs sagged open, his cock slipping out. After a long minute he was finally able to strip off the condom and check on Adam, who was still breathing hard, a blissful smile on his face.

"Are you okay?" Kris asked, not sure why he was worried but putting it out there anyway, hoping for a blanket reassurance.

Adam rolled toward him languidly, ran fingers from Kris's lips down his chest to his stomach. Kris's eyes widened as Adam dragged his fingers through his own cum on Kris's belly in a circular motion, rubbing it into his skin. "Mine," Adam purred, his eyes half-lidded. "Mine."

Kris's head dropped down on the pillow and he gave himself up to the sensations, happy to have his Adam back at last, confident and in control. He didn't care if Adam asked him to never shower again. He would probably like it, knowing he had Adam in his skin all the time.

"You," Adam said, voice just a whisper away from his lips, "are my hero."

"Hmm?" Kris sighed, too relaxed to get worked up again.

"You're like…some kind of super-stealth-detective. How could you not tell me about the tip you called in?"

Kris yawned and stretched, eased his body a little closer. "It was just a guess."

Adam licked Kris's lips, his hand still trailing across Kris's stomach, catching here and there, sticky and dry. "Okay, Clark Kent, play the mild-mannered musician all you want. But you know you might be able to collect that reward, right?"

Kris snorted and said, without thinking, "Which one? Mine or 19E's?"

Adam's fingers stopped moving and Kris opened his eyes, saw the soft expression on Adam's face. "I heard about that, too," Adam said.

Kris tried unsuccessfully to shift away. "I'm gonna roll over and die of embarrassment now, thanks."

"Oh, no you don't. I need you very much alive for round two." Adam ran his toes up Kris's shin.

Kris grinned. "And three, and four…."

"Mmm, mind reader." Adam leaned in and kissed him, tongues tangling together before he sucked on Kris's lower lip with promise. "So I'm gonna tell you something. Don't be offended," he warned, a teasing light in his eyes when he leaned back.

Kris smiled and nodded.

"Before the tour, I used to tell myself you sucked in bed. Good Christian boy from Arkansas, only one partner, you had to be the most uptight, missionary-position-loving, vanilla-white-bread redneck in the country."

"Hey," Kris protested half-heartedly.

Adam ignored him and feigned indignation, his hand absently drifting up to tweak Kris's nipple, sending a mini-echo of his orgasm through him. "And then on the tour, you suddenly turned into this dirty, insanely hot version of yourself, and it was all over. I couldn't even use bad sex as an excuse not to fall for you." He frowned for a second longer, and then smiled down at Kris like what they'd done in Kansas City was a sweet memory, and not the single worst thing Kris had ever done to Adam.

In the wake of everything they'd just shared, Kris couldn't take the sudden reminder. He flinched hard against the guilt, turned his head away.

"Hey, you're not really upset, are you? I was just teasing."

"I'm sorry," he blurted. Late, he was so late saying it, but Adam needed to know.

"Honey? Kris, come on." Adam brushed his forehead with sticky fingers.

"I knew," Kris made himself explain, forcing the words past the lump growing in his throat. "I knew how you felt about me. And I was…I was so selfish. I only thought about myself, not what it would do to you."

"It's okay—"

"No it's not! I gave you something I knew you wanted and then pretended it didn't happen. Pretended it hadn't meant anything to me. You should have hated me."

"Kris, I can read you like a book," Adam said. "I knew it meant something. Besides, I was already crazy in love with you—that night didn't change anything for me."

"I made it worse! You were already with Drake; you should've been falling in love with him."

"Doesn't work that way," Adam said, a forgiving smile on his beautiful, makeup-stained face. "I couldn't've gotten over you any more than you could've gotten over me. And I know you tried."

"But you and Drake should've…. I wanted you to—"

Adam rolled onto him, his hips half-pinning Kris's, a thigh thrown over his legs. "That wasn't your fault," he said firmly. "I tried to be there, but Drake was jealous of the life, not you. I was always flying off to some city or other, never spending more than a day or two with him, and that wasn't what he wanted. He's the one who left, not me."

And those were the same reasons Adam had given Kris when he and Drake were breaking up, just two months after Kansas City. Kris had assumed Adam was lying, covering up the wounds Kris had inflicted for the sake of saving their tenuous friendship. The old doubt must have shown on his face, because Adam tipped Kris's chin up and pressed a finger to the tip of his nose.

"You're supposed to believe me, here," he insisted, blue eyes flashing. "That's how this works; I tell you the truth, and you believe me."

Kris blushed, stammered, "I— I do."

"Good. 'Cause this next part is really important: I never blamed you. Not when you freaked out on me and hid in the bathroom. Not even when you made me wait more than a year for this. Which, by the way, really sucked."

It had sucked for Kris, too. "I'm sorry," he apologized all over again. "I just…wasn't ready." To let go of his marriage, to risk rejection from the man he'd fallen in love with.

"I know; that's why I waited. And you came through in the end, so it was worth it."

And that was the answer to the question Kris had asked last night. It shouldn't have mattered, the coincidence of a repeated figure of speech, but somehow it mattered more than anything, fitting into the guilt-shaped hole in his chest until it didn't hurt quite so much. Kris leaned up and kissed Adam once, twice, repeating the words in his head: it was worth it.

Adam laughed ruefully, "And Katy said this conversation would be easy," and he leaned their foreheads together.

"Shows what she knows," Kris agreed.

"Anyway," Adam said, shifting his weight off of Kris and forcefully changing the subject, "that was my amazing, foot-in-my-mouth way of telling you you're hot as fuck in the sack. And that we're gonna start trying out all those positions I texted you as soon as I can feel my legs again."

Kris smiled despite the mess of emotions still clogging his chest. "You couldn't've said it that way the first time?"

Part VI

(no subject)

Date: 2010-07-26 10:48 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I kinda hate comments that only say this (so I'll try to make up for it later) but THAT WAS UNBELIEVABLY HOT. Holy shit.


samanthahirr: (Default)

October 2014


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