fugitive from an mgmt video (yeats) wrote in queenbitchfest,
fugitive from an mgmt video
yeats
queenbitchfest

FIC: "I Would Be," (Part 1/4)

Title: I Would Be
Author: cathalin
Pairing(s): Adam/Kris. References to prior Adam/Brad, Kris/Katy.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count:~20,000
Song: "I Would Be Your Slave" from Heathen
Warning(s): Detailed warnings are in the footer because they contain partial spoilers. They pertain to non-main character death, mild offscreen slightly dubcon/rough sex, and darker characterizations of the main characters than may be standard. If you think you might have issues with any of these things, please scroll to the foot of this document and read the detailed warnings.
Summary: AU. Adam and Kris meet a few years down the road, when down-on-his-luck Kris and his young daughter Katherine show up to rent a room from Adam, who never made it to an Idol audition.
Note: Beta thanks will be added after the reveal. But you know who you are, and every single one of you was invaluable. I can't thank you enough! All mistakes are mine and undoubtedly due to obsessive fiddling.



He was on a four-day drinking binge, doing a few lines in there, too, plus a bunch of weed Cass had scored for him. Yeah, it was pathetic, but he couldn't muster the energy to give a fuck. It didn't matter, anyway, since all he needed to be able to do was show up sober enough to sing crappy songs in shitty clubs, maybe do a little flirting for extra bills.

He ignored the doorbell even when the ringing got insistent; it was probably Cassidy or maybe even Danielle; she'd been extra annoying recently, and his cell had been cut off a couple of days ago. He figured it wasn't Mom or Dad yet; they usually gave him time to figure stuff out for himself. He pulled the blanket tighter around him and took another swig of Bud; he'd come out onto the beat-up chaise on his patio once it started to get dark. At least being outside muffled the sound of the ringing. It didn't mask the taste of the crap beer he'd been reduced to.

"Daddy, daddy! There's a man here!" A high-pitched voice intruded into the relative silence of his back yard, or what passed for a yard in this shitty condo complex.

"Honey, don't run away like that. You know it makes Daddy worried." A man's voice, husky and pretty deep.

"But I found the man!"

Adam pulled the blanket off his head and looked blearily around. A tiny blond girl with pigtails was standing on his patio, hands on her waist.

"Why are you lying down? It's not bedtime yet!"

Adam groaned and scrubbed at his face.

"Katherine Allen, what did I tell you!" A man appeared in the pool of light from the dim bulb on Adam's patio. He was short and well-built, but that was all Adam could make out in the half-light. His voice had a faint twang. He was from the South, but it sounded like it had been a while since he'd lived there.

"Sorry about that." The guy stepped into the light. He wrapped his hands gently but firmly around the little girl's shoulders. "She doesn't always listen. Do you, Katherine?"

"We needa room though, daddy." She looked at Adam accusingly. "Our room, what we found in the Internet."

The man smiled down at her, then raised his hands in the air towards Adam, almost a shrug. "Sorry about that, man. She got away from me. We're looking for a guy named Lambert. Emailed about sharing an apartment with him? I thought this was the right address, but maybe not?" He looked dubiously at Adam and the dingy patio.

Adam sat up straighter, head swimming a little. "You didn't say anything about a kid. How old is she, anyway?"

The guy pressed his lips together; his hands clenched around the girl -- Katherine's -- shoulders. "She's three. She's really quiet, and we'd be gone most of the time, anyway. She's in school or day care a lot because of my hours. We'd share the room, stick a mattress in the corner for her, whatever. We just need--" The guy stopped talking abruptly, biting his lip. "Never mind, it was stupid not to tell you. It's just, when we do, no one wants us, and we're not--Our last place, they raised the rent, so we left, and we've been kind of, well--" The guy stopped abruptly again, shook his head. "You know what? Never mind."

The little girl made a choked-off sound, buried her face in the man's leg. He bent and picked her up. "It's okay, honey, don't worry." His hand was big, strong on her back, soothing. His shoulders and biceps were really muscled. "We'll find something. Or," he swallowed visibly and talked into the little girl's hair, "or we'll go to Nana and Papa's back in Arkansas. That's probably for the best, anyway."

Adam shrugged the blanket off all the way and swung his feet onto the cement of his patio. He wanted another beer pretty desperately. He looked up at the guy again; his skin was perfect, his lips were full and ripe. "This place is shitty. Tiny. And I mean, like cockroaches."

The guy looked at him. Adam couldn't see his eyes, didn't want to. "That's why we can afford it. Everything else is in the middle of a gang war zone, or so far off the grid I'd be driving so much I'd never see Katherine."

"You have a car?"

"Can't get to my jobs, get Katherine to day care, without it. If I sell it, we might as well just head back to Conway. Plus, we've needed it sometimes for--" the guy interrupted himself, pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a breath and looked at Adam again. "Please. We're really quiet, I'll clean and cook and--"

Adam held a hand up. He'd been enough of a shit, and why did he care, anyway, if this guy wanted to live in this crapped out place, even though he probably should have gone back to Nana and Papa's a long time ago. "Take a look. If you still want it, you can have it."

He stood up, a little wobbly, brought them in through the sliding door off the patio; it stuck in its tracks and he had to shove at it. "Fuck you, door," he said, not thinking. Not that he'd care even if he had thought about the little girl. It wasn't his fault she was there. "I do drugs, too," he said as he motioned to the tiny living area with its crappy little kitchen, sink full of dishes. "I mean, nothing with needles or anything, but..."

"Honey, wait here a second, okay?" The guy put the girl down in the living room, scanning it first, probably for anything that might be dangerous. "Let's chat," he said to Adam.

"Whatever," Adam said, leading him down the hall to the extra bedroom. "It's full of crap right now, maybe literally, given how many cats the last tenants had, but..."

"Listen," the guy said, voice soft but intense, "you're obviously an asshole with something to prove. I could care less what you do, but I'd rather keep living in our car than have Katherine around someone who would hurt a kid in any way. So just forget the whole thing." Adam couldn't help but notice how the guy scanned the room even as he was speaking, obviously reluctant to actually give it up.

The seconds ticked off. A hundred snarky responses raced through Adam's mind, but for some reason he bit them off. "I'm gay, too," he finally said. "Really, really massively gay, and pretty fucked up right now." Fuck, the little girl was living in a motherfucking car. He took a breath. "But I'd never hurt a kid."

The guy looked at him, biting his lip again. That would look amazing in bed, perfect teeth on a perfect mouth, trying to keep sounds in. The guy raised an eyebrow at him and Adam couldn't help it, he smiled a little, because yeah, caught. "Sorry?" He figured the guy would come up with some excuse now, because drugs and swearing, sure, but god forbid a guy liked cock.

"Least of my problems," the guy said.

Huh. "Wait, what's your name?"

"Kris. Kris Allen, remember from the email? Only, the thing is, I can't afford $600. I could probably do $500 if I add a gig or two."

"Gig?" Adam wished he hadn't asked, the second the question left his mouth, but there it was.

Kris's face closed off a little. "Yeah. I play a little, sing, for extra pocket change."

Adam thought for a while. "You said you have a car?"

"Yeah. Shitty one, but it drives."

"How about this. You give me a ride sometimes, when you can, when I'm working somewhere sketchy -- I do gigs, too -- and I'll take five hundred. I can't do less than that, I'll lose the place. I lost my biggest job last week." Adam didn't want to think about that, Michael and Debbie in that little room, loss of confidence, unreliable, diva with the changing things up all the time, next it'd be his voice to go, blah blah blah.

The guy -- Kris -- looked around the room for a few seconds. He kicked at a pile of random crap the last tenants had left when they bailed in the middle of the night, then nodded once, short. "Okay. It's not like I'd ever leave her here without me, anyway." He turned back to Adam and held out his hand. "It's a deal?"

Adam stared at his hand. "Not afraid of gay cooties?"

Kris laughed, not a pretty sound, but kind of deep and throaty anyway. "Like I said, the least of my problems. Just no actual sex in front of my daughter, okay?"

Something in Adam's stomach clenched, but he ignored it. "Yeah, I don't get off on that particular idea. You on the other hand...," he put on his best queen voice, "can watch any time you want to, honey."

Kris's face went through about three expressions before it settled on disapproving. He kept his hand out, though, grim-faced, and after a while, Adam shook it.

"Okay, it's a deal. No boys cavorting in the kitchen with the olive oil," Adam winked at Kris, "and you get to inhabit this fabulous place with me."

* * *

Adam stumbled over something on the floor on the way to the kitchen and swore. It was probably something of Katherine's -- a toy or a book or a shoe with a pink Disney princess on it. There was a light on in the tiny kitchen, too, which was weird because it was five in the morning. It wasn't enough that he had to put up with their crap everywhere; the electric bill was going to be through the roof due to Kris and his kid, and Adam had gotten on the power company's shit list often enough to know he didn't want to have the electricity cut off because he couldn't pay the fucking bill. He'd hoped the extra money from taking in roomers would help him get caught up, but fucking Lonnie had cancelled his weekly gig at The Pit. Not that Adam was going to miss the drunk businessmen on the down low feeling him up, but still, it was money.

Adam blinked against the light; his head ached anyway from the party last night after his performance at the Upright. He'd only had about an hour's sleep, but pain and thirst had woken him up from his sprawl over the top of his unmade bed. He'd only gone in to rest a minute; he'd had a blow job on tap from one of Cass's boys, but apparently they'd all left sometime after he'd passed out. He had some orange juice in the fridge that might help keep down the Advil he'd just swallowed, and a couple of crackers might help, too.

Kris was standing at the kitchen sink drinking from the orange juice container, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He had on boxers and a ratty old t-shirt that was riding up in the back. In the light of the single bulb above the stove, his skin glowed, golden.

Dammit, though, he'd wanted that juice. "Fuck, my orange juice!" Adam said.

Kris jumped and turned, juice dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. "Sorry, man, it's empty. It was almost gone." He shrugged apologetically.

"Don't fucking take my stuff," Adam said. "And pick up your little girl's shit from all over the floor. I nearly killed myself getting here."

Kris narrowed his eyes. The t-shirt hugged his chest, outlining taut pecs and broad shoulders. He obviously worked out. "I needed something to drink after being kept up all night by your party. I couldn't get Katherine back to sleep for hours."

Adam tossed his head. "You're not going to find anything this cheap that doesn't involve hypodermic needles in the hallways."

"Screw you." Kris pressed his lips together, eyes angry and hard.

"Suck on it," Adam said reflexively. Adam could imagine having those lips in his teeth, the sounds Kris would make. He sauntered up to him, rubbed his thumb over the gap where Kris's t-shirt rode up from his boxers. His skin was silky, tiny hairs golden in the slight light. "Mmmm. Maybe literally," Adam purred. "Have you ever tried it, Arkansas boy? Because I bet you'd love it."

Kris put a hand on Adam's shoulders and shoved him, hard. "I didn't know I'd signed on to be harassed when I agreed to share the rent."

Adam staggered back -- Kris was strong, mmm. He laughed and stared pointedly at Kris's slightly tented boxers. "Looks like you don't mind the idea too much."

Kris crumpled up the orange juice carton, hard, and threw it into the trash, then stalked out of the kitchen. Adam almost wanted to follow him, say something; he didn't know what, but anyway, his head was hurting, and he didn't.

* * *

Kris steered the beat-up Accord carefully, slowly, though this area was well-lit at night. Fancy cars lined the street, and expensively-dressed people strolled to their destinations. Kris braked for a young woman dressed in high heels and fur who was carrying a tiny dog in a purse and talking on a cell phone. Kris's mouth tightened; Adam was pretty sure Kris didn't approve of conspicuous consumption, just like he didn't approve of a lot of things.

"I'm going to be late!"

"You weren't even ready until twenty minutes ago," Kris said, not taking his eyes off the road.

Adam sighed. He felt too shitty to argue. Last night had been another night of drinking and weed, and his head was muzzy. He leaned his head against the cool glass of the passenger window. "It's coming up on the right."

"Your voice must be shit the way you treat it," Kris said, pulling the car over.

"Whatever." Adam got out. "Pick me up at one. I'm off at twelve but I'm going to try to," he remembered Katherine, sitting in the back seat, at the last minute, "to do some extra things after."

Kris rolled his eyes but didn't say anything.

It took a while for Adam to reach that special place tonight, the place where everything fell away except the music and the song. He didn't let himself face it very often, but the truth was, it was taking him longer to get there these days. He felt farther from the music, the heart of joy it carried for him, than he used to. And it was getting worse.

He threw himself into the performance, tried to let his headache and his shitty apartment and his parents' silent concern fall away until there was just the soulful thread of the piano, the power of his voice in his throat. Adam could hear it himself when his voice broke free of all the crap he'd subjected it to and soared. Just for a minute, he reconnected with what he had felt -- now it was years ago -- when everything was so clear.

After, he was on a high, manic and a little shaky. A pretty boy, slutty in his short, tight tank, smiled at him and raised an eyebrow and Adam nodded and followed him into the back room. It started out great, hot and dirty, the boy dropping to his knees right away. Something shifted and Adam strained to get the feeling back, the feeling he'd always loved since he figured his sexuality out, a boy on his knees right there... It wasn't working, fuck, even when the kid redoubled his efforts, cheeks hollowing mercilessly.

Adam shoved at the kid and he finally pulled off, looking first uncertain, then pissed. "What the fuck," he said.

Adam sighed, reached to zip up his pants. "It's not you," he managed.

The kid was about to say something more, something pissy, when Kris walked in. His face was tense, angry. He had Katherine cradled up close to his chest. "I've been waiting out front for twenty minutes." He gave Adam a once-over, raking his eyes over him, top to bottom, eyes lingering a little too long on his crotch. Adam realized his dick was still hanging partly out and stuffed himself back in, finished zipping. He was not going to blush. He could do whatever he wanted, had been for a very long time.

"I can't leave Katherine in the car alone. So I had to bring her in here." Kris turned and walked away, back stiff.

Adam gathered his crap and walked out, opening the door and sliding into the front seat of Kris's car. "Keep quiet," Kris said. "Somehow Katherine stayed asleep through all that." Adam glanced in back and sure enough, Katherine was slouched against the door in her booster seat, seat-belt fastened -- he could picture Kris doing that, leaning in and strapping her into place, big hands gentle on her.

They drove in silence all the way back to the apartment. They hit a traffic jam on the 405, of course, because there always was a jam on the 405, even at two in the morning, but made it home quickly even so. Kris bundled Katherine in close to him again when they arrived, darting a glance at Adam that could kill. Adam stayed quiet, because why not.

Later, when Adam was brushing his teeth -- he still had some standards -- Kris came into the bathroom and rustled around in the medicine cabinet, pulled out Advil, still not saying a word. He was wearing that ratty t-shirt again, plus sleep pants that had seen better days and were sitting low on his hips. Adam stared at the expanse of buttery skin showing. He could feel Kris's body heat. Adam looked up, and Kris's eyes were on Adam's shoulders. Interesting. Adam stood a little taller. Kris's eyes scanned his shoulders, chest, arms, then slid away.

"I thought so," Adam said, smirking.

Kris lifted his eyes to Adam's face. His blush was visible in the light of the crap bulb over the sink.

Adam crowded a little closer. "Caught. Like what you see, straight boy?"

Kris frowned. "Do you work at it, being an asshole? You must, because no one could be like that naturally." He turned and left, body stiff, still a little red at the tips of his ears and on his neck.

Adam watched his ass moving away from him, muscled and tight under those thin pants.

* * *

"You were late again," Adam said, reaching for the milk. Kris was leaning against the counter drinking a glass of water. Adam stood a little too close to him. Kris smelled like cheap soap and cheap deodorant, and he really needed some product in his hair. It was one in the morning and they'd just gotten back, Katherine dead asleep in Kris's arms when they came in.

"Yeah. Shit hit the fan at the office. I was late and had to race to get Katherine from day care. She's sick, so I had to call the free clinic and get medicine. I fell asleep on the couch by accident..." Kris's voice trailed off. He looked exhausted, actually, dark circles under his eyes. He looked delicious; the drawn lines in his face made him look even more like one of those paintings by Botticelli of some beautiful angel boy. "I'm just--" Kris put his glass down, raised his hand behind his neck and rubbed it. Adam stared at the lines of his chest and arms with his hand up like that. It was easy to picture...

"Stop it." Kris's voice was flat, but Adam could see the vein in his neck, jumping in an erratic rhythm.

"I don't think so," Adam said, letting his voice fall into his deeper register. He put his hands on the cabinets on either side of Kris's head and crowded a little closer.

Kris shifted but didn't push him away, turning his head so he wasn't looking at Adam. "Look--"

Adam leaned in close to Kris, brought his mouth to Kris's perfect shell of an ear. "I know you want it, don't even try to protest," he murmured, soft and low. "You don't have to do anything if you don't want to, but I'm going to just slide right down onto my knees, right here, right now." Kris sighed, only a little sigh, but Adam could feel it in the air between them. "And then I'm going to pull those sinful slutty pants down and give you the blow job of your life." Kris shivered, actually shivered, and wasn't that a direct hit to Adam's cock.

He slid down, lips catching every few inches on Kris's clothes, rubbed his cheek against Kris's cock through his pajamas; it was already hard. The thrill of victory made his own cock ache, and suddenly he was dying for it; he pulled the top of Kris's pants down and rubbed against him again, this time right up against the silky-hot skin.

Kris gasped above him somewhere. Adam decided he'd better not prolong this, much as he'd like to, or Kris might start thinking. He licked down Kris's length and heard Kris's sharp intake of breath, then just opened his mouth and took Kris in, sliding all the way down in one smooth move. Kris's head clunked against the cabinets above the counter. Adam shivered and pressed a hand on his own cock through his jeans, just to dampen the ache a little.

It was one of his favorite things, sucking cock. He was really good at it, too; Kris was trying to hold back his gasps, but Adam flicked his tongue on the up-sweep or moved so the angle was just a little different, and Kris was coming apart under him. He anticipated Kris's knees going weak and swept an arm up around his thighs, locking him in place. He accelerated his sucking, sliding up and down, the taste of precome and saliva strong in his mouth...

Kris's hands were clenched hard on the counter edge. Adam could see out of the corners of his eyes that his knuckles were white. Adam reached up with his free hand and pulled one of Kris's hands to his head. It hovered, uncertain, until Adam made a frustrated sound, then Kris's fingers clenched, just a little. Adam sighed around Kris's cock and Kris tightened his hand; Adam moaned without meaning to and Kris made a sound like a stifled groan and tightened his hand even more. Adam loved that, the feel of some guy's hand clenching in his hair, holding him onto his cock, desperate for it.

Kris panted above him and Adam wanted to know, wanted to hear -- he brought his hand to Kris's balls, stroked. Kris moaned. He dragged a finger back to the soft skin behind the balls, stroked again. Kris's weight sagged and Adam laughed around his cock. He circled his finger a few times, then began to drag it back, just a gentle touch. Kris made a sound like choking and stiffened, then came into Adam's mouth, gasping, holding his head to him with an iron grip. Adam forced down the instinct to fight, to breathe, and reveled in it, bringing Kris to this, savoring the taste of come on his tongue, in his throat.



After a while Kris's hand untangled from Adam's hair, and he scrabbled ineffectually at the top of his pajamas, trying to pull them back up. Adam stood, shaky, grabbing onto the counter for support. Kris's mouth was right there, and he wanted to kiss that full bottom lip, open up his mouth with his tongue--

"I--" Kris looked totally debauched, lip red and swollen from where he'd probably bitten it, skin flushed and rosy with a sheen of sweat. He licked his lips and stared at Adam, deer in the headlights. Adam could practically see him thinking, weighing what to do.

"Don't worry about it," Adam said, pushing off from the counter. "I'll take care of it myself. You won't have to dirty your hands." He walked stiffly towards the door, cock aching. He smirked at Kris. "Or your mouth."

In his bed, he stroked himself off in seconds, hand in his mouth to muffle his cries. He bit his hand when he came, still tasting Kris's come on his tongue. The guy was fucking hot, no doubt about it. It was better this way, though, leaving Kris wanting something he wouldn't like to admit he wanted.

* * *

The club where he had an interview was even more of a shit hole than the one he'd sung in last. The owner, Charlie, stared at Adam with proprietary eyes, hand lingering on Adam's lower back a little too long. So this was going to be one of those gigs. Charlie was fat and smelled of smoke and stale alcohol, but his dick was pretty clean and he didn't object too much to wearing a condom; there was no way Adam was doing this guy without it. On his knees again, but it was a job, and paid well. His mom had just sent another gift card for Trader Joe's and it stung, knowing she'd worked overtime, exhausted, just to send something like that for her very adult son. So he was going to do what he had to do.

When Kris picked him up, Katherine asleep like usual in the back, Adam just closed his eyes and leaned against the window.

"Never again," Kris finally said, low. "You got me?"

Adam sighed. "Whatever you say, honey. If you want to lock it up and stick it in the closet, what do I care?"

He could tell Kris was staring at him. He couldn't muster the energy to care, or to deflect what might be curiosity or hatred or some other emotion on Kris's part. "It's not about the closet," Kris finally said. "It's about--" He shook his head. "You know what, just forget it."

"Sounds fine by me." Adam's lips stung a little still from Charlie's frantic pumping, and his throat hurt from singing over the crowd. He squeezed his eyes shut and kept them that way for the whole drive back home.

The next day he slept until three in the afternoon, then tried to muster the energy to do a little cleaning and cook something real. By the time Kris and Katherine came home he had a bit of a buzz on from the boxed Gallo he'd been drinking. Kris looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, and Adam found himself offering to make a plate for Katherine.

Kris looked suspicious, but finally shrugged. "Hitting the shower, then."

"Oh!" Katherine said when she saw the sauce and noodles all ready on the counter, and climbed into a chair at the tiny plastic table they had in the kitchen.

Adam mounded spaghetti and butter on her plate, mixing it up the way he'd seen Kris do. Pretty soon she had noodles stuffed in her mouth, some hanging out on her chin, greasy. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and smiled a little, tentative.

He smiled back. She was usually so solemn, and it was, weirdly, kind of good to see. He slurped some noodles, loud, and let them dangle from his mouth. She just stared, and then he waggled his eyebrows. She laughed and tried to waggle hers back; spaghetti dripped all over the table. Adam remembered something that Neil and he used to do when they were kids and started making designs on the table with noodles. Katherine watched, wide-eyed, then hesitantly started making a picture, too -- something that looked like a square with a blob in it.

Adam smiled. "Excellent! Look at mine!" She did, and cracked up -- it was an exaggerated human face with spiky hair. He realized he'd never heard her laugh before.

"Look!" she said, and worked for a few concentrated seconds. She looked up and smiled. She'd made a rough approximation of a face, also.

"Niiice!" Adam said. "Who is it? Is it a person?"

"My mommy," Katherine said. "What's in heaven."

It took Adam a second to get that "what's in heaven" meant her mommy was in--oh, fuck. "Your--mommy?"

"Yeah. See her pretty hair? It's long and yellow like mine. And our names are the same, too, only Daddy won't call me Katy."

Adam sat there, momentarily speechless, something twisting in his stomach. It'd never even--he'd never thought about, wondered--oh, god.

"Katherine, why don't you run to our room for a minute and bring me your reading book, okay?" It was Kris. How long had he been where he could hear? His voice was flat, but the look he was throwing in Adam's direction...

"Listen," he said softly after Katherine left, hands on his hips, mouth set in an angry line. "Just because we're living here doesn't give you any right to mess with Katherine."

"I just--I just made spaghetti!" Adam protested,. He was still in too much shock to respond with his usual attitude. "She looked down, and I made a picture with noodles, and--"

Kris looked at him venomously.

"Okay, right, never mind." Adam cleaned up the pictures on the table. "If you don't want your kid to ever have any fun, it's fine by me."

"She has plenty of fun," Kris said. "And we don't need your kind of fun in our lives."

"I don't want to be in your lives." Adam threw the spaghetti into the sink. "It was you who came into mine." He walked to his room and slammed his door.

* * *

Adam could tell Kris was pissed off and frustrated, and for once, it wasn't with him. Kris's hands on the wheel were white from gripping it so hard, and the muscle in his cheek was moving, jaw tense. It would feel so good to just slide right into the heat of that mouth, Kris's powerful arms holding him there. If Kris were angry, that might be even hotter, his solid body--

"I said, did you get milk?" Kris literally had his teeth gritted.

"Yeah. See, I'm not completely worthless."

Kris didn't say anything. Adam looked at him for a while. "Did something happen at work?"

Kris's mouth tightened. "Just stay the hell out of it."

Adam laughed. "Fine. I don't care about the inner workings of the capitalist system, anyway. Too bad for you that you went to business school. I literally can't think of anything more boring." Kris worked at some company that sold... something.

Kris pulled into their parking space too quickly, another sign he was seriously upset, but was gentle as always lifting a sleeping Katherine into the house.

Adam was still buzzed from his set tonight, a sweet jam that ended up in an impromptu trance set, so he grabbed a beer to mellow out with and lay on the sofa in what passed as the living room, lights off, listening to his iPod.

He saw something move out of the corner of his half-closed eyes; a white shape. He opened his eyes all the way. It was Kris, standing a few feet away, staring at him, hands clenched at his sides.

Oh, yeah. He knew it.

Adam could tell the second Kris realized he was caught; his whole body tensed. Adam just looked, didn't move except to take off the iPod; weirdly breathless.

Kris moved closer, slow, almost literally dragging his feet, eyes betraying him by sweeping down the lines of Adam's sprawled body. The anger Adam had noticed earlier was still there, crackling in every step Kris made, making Adam's breath catch.

Kris made it to the sofa, eyes big and dark, and Adam just waited to see what was going to happen.

Kris dropped suddenly to his knees at the side of the sofa and Adam actually gasped, because he hadn't been expecting that; if anything, he'd thought Kris was going to try to fuck his mouth, which wasn't such a bad plan, really, but now he didn't know what was happening.

Kris's hands were at Adam's belt, and that was just--and then he pulled down Adam's pants and boxers, just enough to get at his swelling dick. Without saying a word or even looking at him, he leaned down and took him in, hot and desperate-seeming.

Adam arched into it, so unexpected, the sight of his cock between Kris's full lips so fucking exciting. Kris choked a little but kept going, and Adam realized, whoa, not his first time doing this, definitely. And wasn't that an interesting tidbit.

Kris made a frustrated sound and clambered onto the couch half on top of Adam, rubbing against Adam's foot, still sucking him, one hand squeezing Adam's balls, aching and ready. Kris was making sounds now, desperate, greedy. Adam wanted more of that, because why the fuck not, so he pressed his foot up into Kris's crotch, press, release, press, release. Kris moaned around Adam's cock and Adam moaned back, orgasm suddenly almost there, hovering, unexpected, but it'd been a long time since something like his had happened to him, something... he couldn't think of the word, but whatever, this was fucking hot, boy between his legs, getting off so hard just on sucking him and rubbing up against him through his pants.

Kris made another one of those strangled hot sounds and Adam felt it, white heat and then the joy of the moment of orgasm, everything falling away but pleasure. When he could think again, he realized Kris had scooted forward and was rubbing off against Adam's thigh, up on his elbows, head hanging down, focused. Sweat dripped from Kris's face and Adam could feel Kris's breath, fast and harsh. Poor boy was desperate. Adam normally would just let a guy like this rut against his leg, or who knows, see if he could get him to put on a show for him, but something about the sounds Kris was making...

"Come here," he said, voice raspy, lifting under Kris's arms and pulling him up so he was kneeling over him on the sofa. Kris had those sinful sleep pants on again, or ones just like them, so it was beyond easy to slip them down, lean forward and take Kris's cock, rock-hard and leaking, into his mouth. Kris sagged a little and moaned, thrust raggedly, obviously trying to hold back.

It Jesus Christ it was hot, this little Southern boy on top of him like this, fucking his mouth. He could imagine what it would be like if their positions were reversed, Kris's swollen mouth open underneath him, Adam controlling how much he took, how much he had to take.

Kris's hips jerked and Adam wanted more. He wanted Kris to know he could do this to him any time, pull him apart, make him this greedy. He brought his hand to Kris's mouth, slipped three fingers in. Kris moaned around them, and Adam's cock perked up, because holy fuck, the guy was an uptight holier than thou shit, but he was fucking intense, hardly holding back at all now, strong thighs on either side of Adam's face, arms straining to hold himself up on the armrest and back of the couch.

Adam knew just how to make him fall all the way apart, too, unless his instincts were way off. He brought his fingers, dripping, to Kris's ass, slid them down his crack. Kris groaned and shoved back hard. Pay dirt.

Adam didn't waste time; snaked a fingertip in. Kris's groan was guttural this time, the harsh sound right before coming, so Adam crooked his finger, searching...

Kris convulsed around his finger, on top of Adam, shooting hard down his throat. He managed to swallow most of it without choking, milking Kris's cock even as he felt Kris's arms tremble.

Kris pulled out and half-fell across Adam, panting. Adam had a ridiculous urge to kiss his muscled shoulder, pet his back, like he might have done back in ancient days with--

He shoved at Kris. "Can't breathe."

"Sorry," Kris mumbled, levering himself up, not looking at Adam. That was actually just fine with Adam, since he didn't have any desire to have anything more than sex with anyone, so if he could get that conveniently, all the better.

"You okay?" Kris asked, scooting back and shoving up to a stand, darting a quick glance down at Adam. "I didn't mean to--"

Adam laughed. "Mmm, more than fine, sugar. You know, they say people do to others what they want done to themselves, so I'm thinking..." He waggled his eyebrows at Kris.

Kris pressed those sweet lips together tightly. "Yeah, why do I even bother."

Adam laughed. The boy was so easy to mess with. He'd better be careful; he could get eaten alive out here in California.

* * *
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Part 2
Tags: 20k - 50k, adam/brad, adam/kris, fic, nc-17
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