Blue Angel

Title: Blue Angel
Kradam. NC-17. From the M&D universe.
Disclaimer: Don't know these people. Never happened.
Note: For [info]lolitaray. This was her prompt. :D

"Sometimes I think I'm too boring for him."

"Say what?"

Saturday afternoon in Kris and Adam's studio, where J-dogg Gabriel Martinez had invited himself over to record some "beats" while Adam was in New York, a favor which J-dogg had provided a "thank-you" gift in return and which they broke into after Kris had recorded J-dogg rapping and scratching across about five songs filled with so much reverb and compression that J-dogg's voice didn't sound even human anymore, but more like an East LA robot.
multimaster tool
However after they'd got good and "skunked" enough to where J-dogg was able to convince Kris to record some beats himself ("Haw haw I never thought I'd ever hear you sing no Kanye you little white-boy bitch, oh my Lord" J-dogg had cackled in approval) they flopped down on the studio couch together as Kris snorted and giggled about nothing in particular and J-dogg patted his head and said "Damn boy, you are hiiii-iiiigh."

"Shit yes, biyoch," Kris answered with what felt to be a stupid grin, which set J-dogg cackling all over again as he said "Damn dude, if only HBIC could see ya now."

"Yeah," Kris shrugged in reply, his smile suddenly dying as he reached out to pick a thread in the hole of his worn jeans.

"What?" J-dogg said to that, frowning a little as he tried to peer into Kris's face with his glassy, red-rimmed eyes.

"Nothing," Kris shrugged again, biting his lip. "Just that--Well. Sometimes I think I'm too boring for him."

"Say what?"

"Just that....well," Kris continued sort of sheepishly. "It's like Brad was kind enough to tell me the other day about all the things him and Adam used to get up to--in three-D detail, you know," Kris added with a sneer. "And....And well it got me thinking that....I don't know."

"Why, 'cause you don't wear feathers and shit all day?" J-dogg asked next, taking Kris's hand. "Dude that just ain't your style, dude. And for reals, it sure don't seem to me that ol' HBIC finds ya boring atall."

"No but I also mean...I don't know," Kris said, feeling his face blush a little. "I mean I think I'm sort of too....vanilla or something."

"Ya mean in bed?" J-dogg asked with a smile. "Well I wouldn't know personally a course, 'cept for that one time when I walked in on y'all in your room back when you still lived with me and I seen ol' HBIC had the kinda expression on his face like a man whose dick done died and gone to heaven."

"Shit," Kris said, shaking his head with a smirk. "That was so bad of you."

"But for reals dude," J-dogg said now. "If you really worried about it that much you should like try to spice things up or something, though I doubt you need to."

"Yeah but like how?" Kris asked, leaning back against J-dogg's shoulder. "I'm just no good at that stuff, you know?"

"Well when's he coming back home?" sears credit card

"Tomorrow night."

"Alright then," J-dogg said, his eyes twinkling merrily as Kris could almost hear the gears turning in his head. "This is what you need to do."

But after J-dogg described to Kris J-dogg's plan for him Kris sort of frowned, and said "How am I supposed to do all that though? I'd feel foolish."

"Ya won't if you got some a this here to get you in the right mood," J-dogg smiled in return as he pointed to the baggie on the couch. "I'll leave the rest a that with you so's that you can make yourself all sexy and hot for your HBIC. And you can tell HBIC You're welcome for me, alright?" J-dogg added with a laugh. "Now, you got any Cheez-It's around here? I'm fucking starved...."


After the shitty-ass flight from New York and the ass-long traffic-filled drive from LAX to Brentwood, all Adam Lambert wanted when he got home was a quiet drink, something to eat, somebody to fuck, and to sleep, not necessarily in that order.

So when he stepped into the house that night feeling like he'd just been dragged through the Devil's toothed anus, he was sure he was hallucinating things when he thought he heard dance music coming from somewhere in the house--and not any dance music either, but his own music, turned up high with the bass bumping deep and for a moment he just stood there at the front door thinking WTH before he called out at last "Kris?"

When there was no answer however he closed the door behind him, stepped into the foyer, then into the living room, where uncharacteristically there was no Kris waiting there to greet him with a warm smile and a hot dinner, which was when the WTH grew into WTF as Adam turned his feet toward where he thought the source of music was, which seemed to be upstairs.

However it wasn't until he reached the bedroom door and opened it that the WTF grew into Oh my fucking Ra when a wave of music blasted him in the face, and he saw, sitting on the bed, in the shadows of a blue light coming from somewhere, a--

--an angel.

An angel: a little shimmering, barely-dressed imp, whose black wings spread out from him with wicked promise, and whose little face smiled impishly at Adam like wet dreams come true.

But before Adam could even find words to comment on such a visitation, the little angel suddenly stood up, and stepped toward Adam close enough to where the light coming in from the bedroom door illuminated the glittery skin and the kohl-lined dark eyes that were familiar enough to Adam, but held within them a determined sultriness that Adam had never imagined seeing in that little face: a calculated knowingness that nearly took Adam's breath away before, unbelievably, the imp began to dance--dance!--to the music (Adam's own music, oh my fuck), and for a second Adam thought that he'd walked into the wrong house, walked into the wrong life and that somehow he was still back in 2007.

But Brad had never had that special, heartbreaking innocence to him like this one did, as the little imp twirled and snaked for Adam in the most seductive way (how in the fuck did he learn to dance like that?), before he shimmied up to Adam to take Adam's face in his hands, and stand on his tiptoes to kiss Adam like a whore.

It was only when Kris wrapped one glitter-streaked leg around Adam's waist and ground his crotch into Adam's own that Adam finally released a helpless groan, because there was no fucking way in hell this was happening, no fucking way, Adam thought weakly as he felt the little imp's hand run down his chest to caress Adam's by-now throbbing cock; and then there was that wicked smile again, that lopsided smile that told Adam this little one knew everything about him, knew what lived in the corners of Adam's dreams and had decided to make them manifest and yes, yes, he was going down now, falling to the floor and freeing Adam from the tightness of his jeans so that Adam got to witness within the cool blue shadows a perfect angel face taking Adam into his mouth as though Adam were a god, a vision that belonged on a fresco in a church of the sacred damned. But before Adam could weep at the sight of it and come like the Flood, the little angel drew away, smiled at Adam, and then turned round on his knees to present to Adam an offering that was a thousand times better than what the Snake had ever promised the Original Adam--and just like the Original Adam, Just Adam sunk down on his own knees, and bit deep into that ripe delicious temptation.

Kris was more than ready for him, evil boy, and really it was all Adam could do to hold back long enough to where he saw that perfect spine arch as Adam got Kris good, and hear Kris's voice make that sound that never failed to send shivers through Adam's blood when Kris lost himself, and Adam lost himself too, falling now onto Kris's back as Kris's wings folded, and they collapsed together on the floor, Adam still inside Kris, and Adam's own voice still singing somewhere outside of them, over and over and over again.

"So, um," Adam said after a time over the music when their breathing grew steady at last, and Adam sat up a little to remove the wings from Kris's back so that he could curl Kris up in his arms and lay that tousled head on his shoulder. "So, um....Hi?"

"Hi," Kris replied with a sleepy smile, his eyes still traced with that impishness through the black liner.

"So, um," Adam said next, staring down at Kris's face and running a thumb over Kris's glittery cheek. "Not that I'm complaining, but....I mean, so what was all this for again?"

"I don't know," Kris shrugged as he drew his arm around Adam's waist. "Just wanted to mix it up a little, I guess."

"'A little'," Adam said, rolling his eyes. "Oh my Ra. I was sure I was having a heart attack or something."

"That bad, huh?" Kris asked with a grin, to which Adam sighed, shook his head, and said "Yeah, it was the worst thing that's ever happened to me in my life."

After a moment though Adam reached out to run his fingers through Kris's hair, and said quietly "You don't have to do that, you know. Unless you want to," Adam amended with a slight smile. "Because oh my fuck. But, you don't have to."

"I wanted to."

"You don't need to. The fact that you did though," Adam said, drawing his arms around Kris and hugging him tight as he pressed his lips into Kris's hair.

The fact that he did--that this one, this Kris Allen who could barely bring himself to wear a nice shirt, and whom Adam knew that, despite his past, was about as demure as a daisy when it came down to "fancier" things--

Well. Even though Adam knew Kris would never give Adam the reasons why, Adam thought he could guess them; and it was the intention of the gift from someone like Kris, more than the hotness of the gift itself, that made Adam close his eyes, and wonder what in the world he had ever done to deserve this.

I Need to Know

Title: I Need to Know
Kradam. R. Short piece from the M&D universe.
Disclaimer: Don't know these people. Never happened.
Note: More religion stuff. I don't know. I just feel like exploring this more.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?"

"Nah, it's all right. Go have fun with your friends."

"Well they're your friends too."

"Yeah, Katy Perry and Ferras? Uh-huh, sure."

"Oh come on, they love you."

"Oh yeah? Well, they're real sweet, themselves."

"'Sweet' isn't the exact word I'd use, but I think I know what you're trying to say."

"No, go have fun," Kris grinned as he reached out to adjust the lapels of Adam's leather jacket, then stand on his tiptoes to give Adam a kiss on his fragrant cheek. "You don't need me sitting in the corner like a wallflower, anyway."

"Like you could ever be a wallflower," Adam replied, rolling his eyes as he sort of tousled Kris's hair. "Please, I'm sure everybody there--guys and girls--would just be falling all over themselves to talk to you. Which, now that I think about it," Adam amended, "may not be so awesome. Maybe it's good that you stay home."

"Jerk," Kris replied with a smile as Adam leaned down to kiss Kris's cheek likewise.

"I knooooow, right?"

Late Friday evening in November, where Adam finally and at last left the house to go to some industry party he was invited to while Kris turned his steps from the front door after he made his farewells to Adam, and went to the studio to lay down some tracks for a song that had been itching his brain all day.

He only felt a tiny amount of guilt for not going to the party with Adam, since he knew he'd just stand there mute and awkward around all of Adam's dazzling friends and probably be a burden to Adam since Adam most likely would want to stick by his side just to make sure that Kris wasn't uncomfortable. However, any residual remorse Kris felt was immediately washed away when he stepped down into the warm, dark studio, and flipped on the board whose red and green lights glowed with a familiar, almost Christmas-like merriment as Kris adjusted the faders and microphones before hitting Record, then closed his eyes to begin the first rough tracks of the song.

It was one thing to go into his study to write music while Adam was somewhere in the house; but it was another thing entirely to be in the studio and belt out a song that would no doubt reverberate all throughout the residence, despite the studio's insulated walls. And while certainly Adam was gone from home enough to where Kris would have the opportunity of utter solitude on a regular basis, it wasn't often that he felt he had something worthy of recording, so that a few hours' space in which to work in the studio when he was inspired really felt like a Christmas of sorts indeed.

Especially since tonight the first couple of tracks came out like perfection, one of those rare incidents when everything you sang and played was transmitted faithfully from what you imagined in your head. And after he hit Stop and listened to the tracks with a warm satisfaction, he decided that, since he was "on" that night, that he would record a couple more songs that he'd been practicing over the last few weeks, just to see if they'd come out good too.

And they did; he didn't know what was in him tonight, but whatever it was seemed to be coming from a place Beyond, so that after he'd recorded a couple more songs he understood that he'd been especially blessed this evening, and after he'd listened to the most recent tracks he bowed his head in silent prayer, thanking God for being with him tonight, and more determined than ever to show gratitude for His generosity by doing as much as he could tonight, if it pleased Him.

Therefore he found himself reaching back, back, back in time to record songs he'd written over the last year or so but had never performed: songs written in his head, mostly, but which told the story of wandering souls, and of prodigal sons, and of sin--not the sin of the flesh, which even to someone like Kris wasn't the greatest error a man could commit, but sins of the heart, of forgetting one's place in the world, of turning one's back on one's family and friends--of turning one's back on God.

And thus he found himself time-traveling to one of the darkest points of his life, where he had lost his way and felt that God had abandoned him, that Life had abandoned him, and where he was too far gone to understand that he'd been the one to turn his back on everything due to his bitter, selfish disappointment about selfish things.

Time must have run away from him, however; for it was when he reached the end of a song that had come from the most abysmal epicenter of his spirit's crisis, a song he felt incumbent upon to sing as he lay on his back, the microphone lowered so that it was but a scant inch from his mouth, that something caught the corner of his eye, and his guitar abruptly paused from its last phrases when he saw Adam standing there at the doorway, a look on his face as though he'd seen a ghost.

"I'm sorry," Adam said in a rough voice when Kris jerked up with surprise. "I didn't mean to....Just that I came home, and was wondering....But, well," Adam shrugged, glancing down at the floor. "Never mind."

"It's all right," Kris replied, standing on his feet and stopping the recording before unstrapping the guitar from his shoulder. "Was just fooling around here, you know," he added with a sheepish grin.

At this Adam bit his lip and nodded as he continued to stare at the floor, before he cleared his throat, and said as he tried for a smile "'Fooling around'. Yeah, okay."

"Well, you know," Kris shrugged, coming up to Adam and drawing his arms around Adam's waist, but then frowning when Adam didn't return the embrace and only glanced away.

"What's wrong? Did something happen? Or--or are you mad I didn't go to the party with you just so I could work on this old stuff?" Kris asked, letting go of Adam and reaching up to touch his face. "I'm sorry. If you wanted me to go that bad you should have said something, and--"

"That's not it," Adam said, suddenly grasping Kris's wrist and staring down at his hand. "Fuck the party. It's just that....It's just that this," he went on, running his black-nailed fingers over Kris's callused palm. "It's just this thing, and the....I mean are you even real," Adam said, holding Kris's hand to his cheek and looking at Kris with dim grey eyes.

"Oh. Well no, that wasn't me, you know. It was....well, never mind," Kris amended, shaking his head when he realized what he was about to say.

"What do you mean it wasn't you?"

"I mean it was me, yeah, but not....not from me, you know," Kris replied, feeling his cheeks blush slightly in confusion.

They rarely talked about Kris's religion, mostly because Kris wasn't that good at articulating such things, but also because he felt it made Adam uncomfortable, and anyway he knew what Adam thought about that stuff in the first place. But for some reason the way Adam was looking at him just now made Kris relax a little, and decide to say with only a small amount of hesitation "I mean that it was like He was in the room with me tonight, you know. And so that....well, so that's why if it was any good, it was because of....Him," Kris said, glancing down at the floor and licking his lips.

However instead of snorting or making some disparaging remark like Kris expected, Adam merely squeezed Kris's hand in his, and then said with a soft chuckle "Well then He's an okay guy. But He doesn't--"

"What?" Kris asked, lifting his head up and peering into Adam's face when Adam didn't continue.

"Oh, nothing. Just that--I mean you don't think He hates us?" Adam asked, his eyes hooding over in such a way that Kris seemed to finally understand why Adam sometimes was so dismissive of Kris's religion.

"Well," Kris replied, bringing Adam's hand to his mouth and pressing his lips into the large warm palm thoughtfully. "As my momma says, God is Love. And that's the only kind of God I believe in, myself."

And before Adam could even answer that Kris dropped Adam's hand and drew his arms around Adam's waist again, pressed his face against the cool leather of Adam's jacket, where he sighed deep when he felt Adam embrace him in return, then shivered as Adam grazed his cheek over Kris's hair and whispered "It's late, let's go to bed."

Strange to Kris how having sex with Adam seemed no sin to him, unlike with his other partners of the past--that being laid flat on the mattress by Adam Lambert as Adam worked over Kris with a hedonistic hunger and crooned dirty-sweet things into his ear all about "You're such a perfect fuck" and "Come for me, Kris" didn't seem dirty or sinful to Kris after all, not while he could see the light of the Spirit within Adam's miraculous eyes: eyes that knew things, and saw things, well beyond what most people could see, and with an understanding that told Kris that Adam had his own lost and lonely wanderings, but had been redeemed by That which was the mark of God's very own hand, whether or not Adam himself would ever know it.

But Kris liked to believe that Adam did, in his own way; no one could have eyes like that, and a heart like that, who has not been touched by the most wonderful gift that God had imparted to man. And that, when it came down to it, is what has made all the difference.


Title: Metaverse
Kradam. NC-17. From the M&D universe.
Disclaimer: Don't know these people. Never happened.

"Oh my fucking Ra."

"What?" Kris asked as he walked into the living room just returned from his run, his small sweaty face frowning a little as he glanced over at Adam sitting on the couch with his laptop.

"Ugh don't do that, you're all slimy," Adam said with a face after Kris came up to him and kissed his cheek, to which Kris smiled, then said as he pulled off his sweat-damp t-shirt "That's funny, I don't remember you having a problem with that before."

"Shut up. And oh shit are you really going to do a striptease right now?" Adam said as he stared at Kris's gleaming bare chest.

"No but what were you Oh my Ra-ing about when I came in," Kris asked, ignoring Adam's question but seeming to flex his pecs with a teasing expression on his face, that little shit.

"I'm afraid that that information is not appropriate for young viewers," Adam muttered in reply as Kris sat down next to him and tried to peer at Adam's laptop. "And you're going to make the couch all sweaty," Adam added, tilting the laptop away from Kris's view, "so you'd better get your ass into the shower or something."

But it was too late: because he saw Kris's eyes widen into something like WTF as he scanned the contents of the screen, before his cheeks began to flush cherry red and he mumbled "What the heck? Did you write that?"

"Fuck no," Adam replied, shaking his head with resignation. "But it seems as though there are people out there who do."

"What? What do you mean?" Kris asked as he craned his neck to try to peek at the laptop screen again.

"I mean, Kristopher, that people are writing fanfic about us."

"Fanfic? What's that?"

"You know, porn," Adam said with wry amusement. "Like, people write stories about us fucking or whatever."


"Ex-act-ly," Adam sang, laughing a little now at Kris's shocked expression.

"But--but where did you get that?"

"Oh, somebody tweeted the link to me," Adam shrugged as he glanced at his laptop again. "I guess they thought I'd appreciate it or something. But don't worry," Adam added when he saw Kris crumple his t-shirt in his hands and throw it on the floor. "I mean that's just what people do nowadays. Everybody ships everything anymore, and really, you haven't made it until somebody writes fanfic about you."


"You know. Pair. I guess there are people who are way turned on by the idea of you and me, poor things," Adam said with a smile. "Not that I blame them."

"But isn't that kind of....creepy?"

"You don't say," Adam replied with a snort. "At least they have good taste though."

Kris had nothing to say to that in reply though, merely furrowed his brow as he stared down at his discarded t-shirt and chewed on his bottom lip, to which Adam sighed a little, then said "See, that's why I didn't want to show it to you, since I knew you'd get all freaked out about it."

"I'm not 'freaked out'."

"Okay then. And anyway it's not so bad, this one is just about us giving each other blowjobs in a bathroom or something."

"'This one'? You mean there are more?"

"Oh just never mind," Adam said, rolling his eyes as he shut his laptop firmly closed. "How was your run?" Adam added, staring at the rivulets of sweat running down Kris's chest--Adam would never bring himself to do something as smelly and boring and painful as jogging, but he sure didn't mind it if Kris did, especially given the results of such endeavors.

"It was good," Kris shrugged, leaning back on the couch and kicking his shoes off with his toes. "Made five miles today, which I haven't done since before I moved out here."

"Ugh," Adam groaned, then shook his head. "Five miles? What a total nightmare."

"You should try it one time," Kris replied to him with a smile as he reached down to the floor to retrieve his shirt, then wipe his brow with it. "Makes you feel good, you know? And it keeps you fit."

"'Fit'? What are you trying to say?" Adam asked, feeling his hackles raise slightly despite himself.

"I'm not trying to say anything, sheesh," Kris replied, rolling his eyes. "I'm just saying that running does good things, that's all."

"No thanks. God, can you just imagine me in those tacky-type running shoes and all that? I don't think so."

At this though Kris sort of pressed his lips together through his grin, to which Adam irritably shoved him on the arm and said "Don't even say it. I got enough shit about that Michelin Man shit from everybody else as it is."

"Well if you ever change your mind let me know, and I'll take you running with me sometime," Kris said then, leaning his sweaty head against Adam's shoulder. "It would be fun, I think, to have you out there with me."

And even though Kris was getting his sweat all over Adam's nice shirt Adam found he didn't mind, and instead drew his arm around Kris's neck and hugged him close like the little pup that he was.

"Maybe you can take a shower with me," Kris said in a low voice after they sat there like that for a time and Adam ran his other hand up Kris's bare thigh.

"That's something I definitely could see myself doing," Adam murmured in reply, dipping his fingers beneath the leg of Kris's shorts and teasing them up toward Kris's sweaty crotch.

And if Kris had ever felt any momentary disgust about Adam's slight belly or other things Adam would never have known it, not by the way Kris pressed his naked form against Adam beneath the shower and crooned in that deep dark voice of his all about "So nice, so good" as he ran his hands up and down Adam's spine and stood on his tiptoes to slide his erection along Adam's own; and while Kris never ever could bring himself to use sexual language even in the throes of their most primal acts, his voice sure had a way of making the sweetest things sound downright NC-17, especially when his dark eyes were almost sleepy-looking with lust and his lips were red and slack with need so that during such times when he said things to you like "So good" you almost came right then and there before anything happened.

Particularly now, when Kris's lashes were heavy with water drops and his cheeks were flushed from the heat of the shower and his tongue was sort of sticking out a little as he gazed up into Adam's face in that special way so that Adam had no other recourse except to lean down and kiss that needy mouth, run his hands down that perfect spine and clench that magical ass that belonged on the pages of the best porn websites but thankfully was Adam's own and his only; and it was really difficult not to take Kris swift rough and hard right there in the shower, but Adam defied even Kris's precious Jesus to turn the other cheek when presented with the glory of that gorgeous boy leaned over and parted just for you like miracles did happen after all, and all the dirty things that you sang about in your songs were actually true.

However it was also times like this when, after the "shower" was over and Kris sleepy-smiled Adam into bed so that they could curl up together naked and still wet beneath the sheets and draw their arms around each other's necks, that Adam thought that the syrup-sweet songs one sang could also be true as well: songs about forever and perfection, all the things that those anonymous, sad-eyed girls wrote about in their fan fictions but which Adam hoped they would get to experience themselves one day, even as they spun fantasies about lives other than theirs which were perhaps more true in some ways than those mysterious little witches could ever themselves believe.

Because there are other people I stan besides Kris

I am very excited about the upcoming film Inception, directed by one of my favorite directors, Chris (God it's so weird to spell that name with a "Ch" now lol) Nolan, and starring two of my old favorites: Cillian Murphy and Joseph Gordon-Levitt:

Leo and JGL on set:
Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Cillian (boo for watermarks):
Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Chris, Cillian and JGL in the same picture OMG I am so excite!:
Image and video hosting by TinyPic

I'm anticipating that with such awesome actors (Leo, JGL, and Cillian) and such a great director this film is going to kick ASS. And it's going to be pretty amazing to see JGL and Cillian on the screen together. Mmmmmmm..........

Anyway.... :)

Silver Linings

Title: Silver Linings
Kradam. PG. A short interlude from the M&D universe.
Disclaimer: Don't know these people. Never happened.
Note: I never forget that in RL Kris is a spiritual person, so this interlude addresses his faith. Avoid this one if that topic does not appeal to you.

It wasn't only to have a solitary space in which to compose that Kris had wanted a room of his own.

Oh sure, he did do a lot of songwriting within that rather unadorned space--a space appointed with only his guitar, a comfy chair, and a table on which to write--where he would spend hours at a time staring out his window into the backyard whether day or night as he picked out new songs, or conversely, bowing over his table while he scribbled lyrics or ideas for songs in his journal, biting his lip and chewing on the end of his pencil as he tried to come up with a word that rhymed with "blessed," for instance, or sometimes just making notes to himself as to the arrangements of songs that were still only on the tip of his brain, really, and were only waiting to be fleshed out.

But there were times when all he wanted to do was to be alone, where he could go into his head and live there for a while without distraction, something that was hard to explain to Adam but which, curiously, Kris thought Adam seemed to understand all the same, if somewhat grudgingly.

However perhaps the biggest reason why Kris wanted a room to himself was so that, in the quiet of his solitude, he could gather his spirit together, and pray.

Kris suspected that this wasn't something that Adam would particularly understand about him, since Adam himself did not seem very deep into any sort of spirituality, except in an allegorical way. But for Kris, religion had always been a big part of his life, especially since the last time he was in Arkansas and had played at the church with his dad, where it seemed to him that the Lord had seen fit to welcome Kris back into the fold, and Kris didn't want to turn his back again on such beneficence.

There was also the fact that, especially recently, Kris had found that he had much to be grateful for, had much in his life for which to give thanks; and so once a day he would come into his studio, and before beginning on his music he would sit in his chair, fold his hands between his knees, and thank God for the life he had been blessed with, a life he'd never imagined having even a year ago.

It was almost sometimes hard to believe: that he was actually making a living playing music now, instead of working crappy jobs at shoe stores or restaurants where he was yelled at by customers and treated like a feebleminded serf. And not only that, he got to play music, write music, record music any time he wanted, in a comfortable house where he could do his thing in peace, and be alone (but not lonely) any time he needed to. That he had somehow found his way out of the dark shadow he'd lived in since before last spring, where he more or less hadn't given a shit about anything except being taken care of, and held, even it was by someone Kris had no particular interest in.

Seemed hard for him to believe now that the person who had sleepwalked through that murky life had been him: that it had been he who had let strangers touch him, fuck him, and pay him for it, just so that he could feel wanted and needed as though he were not a complete useless piece of shit. That he'd drugged himself with sex so that he didn't have to feel the other things that he couldn't bear the thinking of, like his total failure as a musician, or his total failure to be a good boyfriend to someone who at one time had meant the world to him, and everything in it; his total failure at life.

Because it seemed as though the opposite were true, for him now: his music has of late been better than it ever had been, he had no wish to escape from the everydayness of his life, and most importantly, he did not feel he was inadequate to the very person who had helped bring his life to this point in the first place.

So when he went into his room to say his daily prayer, he never forgot to thank God for the man who, for all his brash and whimsical ways, was about as kind to Kris as anybody had ever been, including his mom; who worried about him, and put up with his shit, and his moods, and his need for solitude, and did not think he was a loser because he loved music more than--or almost more than--anything else. But most of all, what Kris was thankful for was the fact that Adam understood Kris, and seemed to respect the nobody from Arkansas as though the both of them were equals and not separated by a chasm of fame and money and talent.

Kris wasn't much, he knew; was just a simple man, and a sinner, like all men who are made from the soil of the earth. And yet, if there was one quality about himself that he thought had merit, it was that he was capable of gratitude, which was probably why when after he'd stepped out of his study at last one evening to find Adam returned from business and sitting on the couch while he watched Project Runway or something, Kris didn't balk or even make a face when Adam said to him without looking away from the TV "You should come with me to the AMAs."

"The AMAs?" Kris replied, stepping up to Adam and flopping down next to him on the couch. Then he smiled, said "Well I don't remember getting an invitation to that."

"I mean as my date," Adam said with a bit of peevishness as he turned to Kris with a faint frown on his dark brow. "You know? People customarily bring someone with them to these things, though--Well, I know you probably wouldn't want to," Adam shrugged, glancing away from Kris again as though he didn't want Kris to read his face. "I know how that's not your thing or anything, but--"

"I'd love to," Kris replied, drawing his arm around Adam's neck and sort of leaning his head on Adam's shoulder.

"Oh. I mean, you will?" Adam asked, looking down at Kris as though with blank surprise.

"Sure," Kris said with a smile. "You'll have to help me find something to wear though, since--well, you have a pretty good idea of what kind of clothes I have. Or don't have," he added with a laugh. "And somehow I get the idea that plaid and Converse won't really cut it."

"But--but I mean there's going to be a lot of people there, and cameras, and all that shit that I know you hate," Adam pointed out. "And I know how you can't stand getting dressed up, and--and there's going to be a lot of people there, and--"

"Why are you trying to talk me out of it?" Kris grinned. "I said I wanted to go. And yeah, I have a pretty good idea about what those types of things are like. I mean I've watched TV before, you know."

"But you mean you really--? You'll really go?" Adam said, his face starting to break into a smile now that he actually seemed to believe Kris.

"Well I can't have you taking some other guy or something, can I?" Kris replied with a sly smile of his own.

"Oh shit! Oh fuck, this is going to be so--And oh fuck yes I can help you find something to wear, oh my fuck this is going to be epiiiiiiiiic!" Adam said, nearly bouncing up and down in his seat as he squeezed Kris to him and beamed down at him with a merry gaze. And Kris couldn't help but feel a quiet satisfaction in watching Adam grow so excited as he chatted to Kris about his plans for the event, how Adam just knew the exact perfect place to take Kris to get fitted up for a "siiiick" outfit and how he'll do Kris's hair for him and how they'll have the finest limo to take to the awards show and et cetera et cetera--though Kris's smile faltered a little when Adam's face suddenly grew quiet, almost sad some, before he bit his freckled lip and leaned his head against Kris's own as he said in a soft voice "I know this sounds stupid, Kris, but--but this is something I have always wanted to do. With you."

And even though he wasn't alone in his little room right then--even though he sat face-to-face with someone whom Kris knew scorned Kris's religion as a simple thing, at best, and a militant cult at worst, Kris still found his spirit kneeling down in gratitude as he gazed into those wondrous blue eyes that somehow were also grey and green and all the cool colors of the sky at any season but which radiated a warmth like the sun behind a silver cloud; and right then the most essential part of Kris said a silent prayer to God to thank him, once more, for leading Kris into sin, only so that he could find the light of grace in a man who, in many ways, understood the Spirit, and the teachings of Love, better than almost anybody.

Kind of Blue

Title: Kind of Blue
Kradam. PG. From the M&D universe.
Disclaimer: Don't know these people. Never happened.
Note: sort of a light, unserious one this time.

"Damn dude, I just knowed that the ol' HBIC would totes throw down."

Saturday night on a balmy evening in November, where their heretofore rather quiet household had burst into a veritable fireworks display of noise and people and music and fine food (and drink, natch) as Adam Lambert and Kris Allen finally and at last held their long-awaited housewarming party for a list of select guests, including Allison Iraheta (!) and Katy Perry (!!) and other sundry people in the music industry, though not scorning old friends from the days of yore, including Brad "Cheeks" Bell (who to Kris's surprise had kissed Kris on the cheek in a fluffy feathered greeting and had thrust into his hand a bottle of something that Kris just knew would be stronger than Everclear) and Cassidy Haley (at whom Kris had frozen a little in confusion when he recognized the handsome face that had kissed Adam in the picture that Simon had shown Kris but who had smiled congenially at Kris when he introduced himself, before embracing Kris in a warm fragrant hug as he said kindly "Well no wonder Adam's been AWOL for the last couple of months, love") and of course, the intrepid gangsta from down East LA, J-dogg Gabriel Martinez himself, who had pointed and laughed at Kris's outfit upon greeting (the same outfit Kris had worn when Adam took him to that fancy restaurant that one time) before saying "Damn dude, I guess the HBIC done showed you how to get pretty 'n shit, huh? Dayuuuum."

Kris of course wasn't used to being around so many people at once, especially in his own home; but since he was one of the hosts, he found the wherewithal to be congenial and accommodating and social to all their guests, especially since Adam, dressed like a glam version of a squire and smiling that thousand-watt smile of his, kept cutting excited blue eyes to Kris all throughout the evening and well, Adam's enthusiasm was infectious, to say the least.

Though it had been slightly embarrassing when Adam would introduce Kris to the industry people at the party and wax long about Kris's unbelievable musical talent, even as Katy Perry (dressed in an outfit that might have been a leather handkerchief and just, wow) smiled at Kris with approval and had said to Adam "Well I'm sure he is, love, since I know your good taste doesn't extend to just clothes" or something like that but Kris really couldn't take in what she said because he was too busy staring at her legs. Just, wow.

J-dogg of course made himself right at home, chatting up Katy and Allison like they were old friends (especially Allison, where J-dogg and she comradely broke into a staccato of Spanish and then laughed and hugged each other as though they'd been born from the same womb) before hitting on some of the older guys there, producer types who no doubt had wives and kids but who seemed more than happy (way more than happy, as a matter of fact) to have a gorgeous blue-eyed half-Latino boy flirting with them as though they still retained a patina of their long-lost youth.

All in all it was rather fun, Kris had to admit, especially when J-dogg broke out his "housewarming gift" and the joints began to be passed around, where at some point Kris found himself sitting on their couch bookended by Brad and Cassidy as they curled up next to him cosily and interrogated him in an almost flirtatious way, especially Cassidy, who took the by-now stoned Kris's hand in his and smiled at Kris with weed-warm eyes as he said "Why haven't I seen you in WeHo before? Brad did tell me that you got around."

"Shit oh dear," Brad replied to that, rolling his eyes and reaching across Kris's lap to slap Cassidy on the knee. "That's not exactly what I said, you whore. And anyway it's not like he was around that long before our mutual friend swiped him up and made every Daddy in WeHo weep bitter fail-whale tears of scorn at their loss."

But before Kris could reply to this J-dogg swaggered up to them with a forty of Old English 800 in his hand, then pointed his finger and laughed at the trio as he said "Oh my God, goddam. If it ain't Adam Lambert's harem! Damn dude, you one a HBIC's bitches too?" J-dogg asked Cassidy, at which Cassidy immediately dropped Kris's hand, smiled at J-dogg, and said "No, I haven't had that honor. However," he added, eyeing J-dogg up and down with appreciation, "I suppose I could always console myself with someone else, if you know what I mean."

Right then though Kris saw a rather put-out Adam storm up to J-dogg, grasp him by the collar, then drag him away, where they had a short conversation in the corner that Kris couldn't hear over the music thumping in the background but which consisted of Adam waving his hands at J-dogg in exasperation and then pointing in the direction of the couch, to which J-dogg nodded, cracked a smile, and said something that looked like You know it, HBIC.

"Come on then," J-dogg said after a minute when Adam stalked off from him and J-dogg came back to the couch to yank on Kris's arm. "You gonna give me a tour a your place, ain't you?"

"But we were having fun," Brad scowled now, dropping his cigarette into his empty glass. "Go pick on someone your own size, you thug."

"You traitor," Cassidy said to J-dogg in mock resentment when J-dogg jerked Kris up from the couch. "I thought you were going to console me."

"Later, baby," J-dogg replied to him with a wink, before dragging Kris off while he said to him "Damn dude, I just knowed that the ol' HBIC would totes throw down."

However once Kris had taken J-dogg to the studio (J-dogg nodding appreciatively at the recording equipment and instruments here and there) and then afterward leading him to the study, J-dogg shut the door behind them, sat down in Kris's chair, and then said to him "You better watch out, K-Sizzle. Ol' HBIC means to kill."

"What?" Kris asked, snapping his head up from his guitar that he'd picked up out of habit.

"I mean ol' HBIC isn't liking it too much that dudes are getting cozy wichoo. Thought he was gonna punch ol' Cute Guy in the face or something for a minute, but that ain't all."

"You mean he's jealous?" Kris asked then, setting his guitar back down in its stand and flopping cross-legged on the ground next to J-dogg.

"Yeah. Which is I guess why he told me to get you away from Cute Guy and make you show me 'round your place--which is fuckin sweet, by the way," J-dogg added, looking around the room. "Goddam dude, you totally scored, and I don't mean just 'cause you got yourself some Adam Lambert HBIC cock and shit."

"But why would he be jealous?" Kris asked now, glancing up at J-dogg's face with a frown. "I mean Cassidy is like an old friend of his," Kris added with some irony, "and--I mean--"

"Aw Christ," J-dogg broke in, shaking his head. "Don't you even get it, dude? You one hot hottie--especially tonight, all dressed up and cute and shit--and I mean damn dude I'd even hit some a that, 'cept that you're too young and short for me," J-dogg added with a wink. "But it wasn't just ol' Cute Guy--Cassidy, you say his name was? Damn. But it wasn't just him looking at you like you like a damn dog at a bone. Was just 'bout every damn dude in the house yo, and I think ol' HBIC is kinda sad and frustrate that you been smiling and laughing with them all night and hardly saying a word to ol' HBIC himself."

"But he was busy talking to his friends," Kris replied, though he couldn't help but notice a tad of petulance in his voice as he said those words. "And I was just being nice to people, you know? I wasn't....I wasn't flirting with anybody."

"That don't matter," J-dogg said with a shrug as he took a sip from his forty. "At least, not to HBIC. Alls he knows is that everybody wants ta swoop down on his bitch, and while he likes that in a way, he also don't like it neither. Not atall."

"Well what should I do, make out with him in front of everybody?" Kris asked as he stared down at the hardwood floor of the study.

"Just as long as you're sure nobody from TMZ is here," J-dogg replied with a grin. "Or anybody with a camera phone."

"I missed you," Kris said now, reaching out and laying his arm across J-dogg's knee.

"Oh son don't even go inta that, 'cause Jesus I still ain't found me a roommate who ain't a loser piece a shit and who ain't gonna wipe his mocos on the wall or something," J-dogg replied, taking Kris's hand and squeezing it tight.

"Like you don't."

"Oh fuck no, you punk!" J-dogg cackled at that with a merry gaze. "But yeah," he added, leaning down and wrapping his other arm around Kris's neck. "You and me, we brothers for lyfe, K-Sizzle. Which means you gotta let me come over any time I want and record some tracks in your sweet studio."

"You know it," Kris smiled, resting his head against J-dogg's and shaking J-dogg's hand like it was a done deal.

After that they both got up and exited the room, where Kris found Adam chatting up someone or another with a full drink in his hand but his eyes darting here and there until they snagged onto Kris's, whereupon Adam's eyes sort of hooded over like they sometimes did when Kris knew Adam was trying to hide something, and at which Kris found himself stepping straight up to Adam, smiling at him, and then taking Adam's face in his hands before standing on his tiptoes to plant a kiss square on Adam's mouth.

"What in the fuck was that for," Adam said with vodka breath when Kris released him at last (after a shout of merry hoots from the room at large) and grinned at Adam.

"Oh, only just that I want everybody to know you're mine, you know," Kris answered, gazing at Adam through his lashes in a way that Kris had by now found out was irresistible to Adam.

Because even though Kris was sort of resentful about Adam's possible jealousy, all the same he thought he understood it, since there have been few times in the last six or so months where Kris hadn't been certain that any day, at any time, Adam would leave him in the dust for better and brighter things; and to Kris, that was just unimaginable.

Especially when, after the kiss, and Kris's words, Adam looked down at him with that gas-ring gaze as though there were nobody else in the room: a blue that promised everything once this party was over at last, and which was a promise that Kris held onto, the way his memory had held onto the vision of that gorgeous, beloved face on TV, long before Adam Lambert had even known that Kris Allen existed.

Sudden Storms

Title: Sudden Storms
Kradam. NC-17. From the Metaphors and Dinosaurs universe.
Disclaimer: Don't know these people. Never happened.

For such a simple, down-home guy, Kris Allen sure was harder than hell to figure out sometimes.

He was like those Russian doll things, or the bear that went over the mountain: every time you thought you got down to the last painted wooden figure, or the final peak, there was another one before you, and another, till it seemed as though there was no end to the different layers that made up that curious, unassuming boy from the sticks of Arkansas.

For instance: despite the fact that Kris loved cock like a fat kid loved cake, he sure seemed to Adam sometimes to be about the ungayest person Adam had ever met in his life: his utter disregard for fashion, for one, and for two, his almost maniacal love of sports, especially football (ugh); but mostly it was the way he just was, the type of guy who would probably have never set Adam's gaydar off in the first place except for the fact that within the hour of Adam's first seeing him at the club in WeHo he'd sucked Adam's dick (or tried to, anyway) like a thousand-dollar-a-night hustler.

There was also the fact that, for such a hottie as he was, Kris seemed almost oblivious to his appearance, as though he just had no idea that from top to toe he was a gay man's wet dream, a twink to put all other twinks to utter shame; it was part of his ineffable charm, of course, but Adam was certain that if he'd been blessed with Kris's boyish good looks he would have worked that shit like a boss from Day One and taken over WeHo long ago as the reigning king of studliness.

Then there was the peculiar way that Kris seemed to live in his head most of the time: his need to lock himself in his study for hours at a pop, for instance, or the way he would sometimes stare into space as if lost in thought, his dark eyes taking on a dreamy distance as though he were seeing vistas within his mind that Adam was not, or could not be, privy to. Except on those occasions when Kris would perform for him, where all those different layers of feeling he kept buried inside would manifest themselves in his voice, in his expressions as he played his guitar, as though music were really the only language Kris was fluent in, and Adam had to admit there were times when he was jealous of the little shit's ability to paint a picture with music like something out of the fucking Sistine Chapel or something, Adam didn't fucking know.

Though perhaps not just music. For the truth was that, when they were in bed together, Kris's face would take on that same faraway dreaminess as Adam fucked him, as though the act of sex were a hallowed thing for Kris, even when they were doing the most raunchy things. And it was that almost more than the fantastic hotness of his bod that made sex with Kris Allen such a mind-blowing pleasure, because Adam couldn't recall ever having been with anybody who loved to fuck as much as Kris did, not even Brad, and that was saying quite a lot.

Yet you'd never know it just by looking at him, say, as he watched one of his stupid football games, or sat in bed of a Sunday morning as he peered through his glasses at his crossword puzzle, his little face furrowed in concentration as his little fuzzy hand brought the pencil to the newspaper to write down a few more letters, before reaching over to the bed stand for his cup of coffee and taking a sip from it as his eyes continued to focus on the crossword even as he mumbled to Adam in his Southern drawl "Maybe we should get a dog."

"A dog?" Adam asked blankly, looking up from his cup of tea.

"Sure," Kris shrugged, setting his coffee down and then smiling over at Adam through his glasses. "Be nice to have a dog, don't you think?"

"Um, excuse me, but I'm not exactly sure how we went from crossword puzzles to dogs," Adam remarked, setting his own cup down and studying Kris's smirking face.

"Oh. Well, there was a question on the puzzle about barns, and that got me to thinking about farms and stuff, and then all the kinds of animals on a farm, like cows and stuff, and then how most farms always have at least one dog," Kris finished, nodding his head to himself as though this train of thought should have been obvious even to a five-year-old.

"Oh, of course," Adam replied, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "How silly of me."

"Jerk," Kris said, flipping his pencil at Adam's shoulder with a grin. "But really, don't you think it'd be nice to have a dog?"

"Sure, so that it can jump on the bed all day and pee on the rug and get hairs everywhere," Adam replied, wrinkling his nose at the idea of all his nice clothes covered in dog fluff.

"Well but we can train it though," Kris reasoned, tossing his newspaper onto the floor and taking his glasses off to look at Adam with those soft puppy-brown eyes, and Adam knew he was going to lose this battle before it even begun because damn Kris Allen's stupid face.

"Shit. Well what kind of dog then," Adam sighed, leaning back on his pillow with weary resignation.

"How about a collie?" Kris smiled, scooting closer to Adam and drawing an arm around Adam's waist.

"Fuck no. Too much hair," Adam replied, shaking his head vehemently. "How about one of those little weenie dogs instead?" he added, thinking that those things had hardly any hair on them and were nice and tiny so that they couldn't even try to jump on the bed or anything.

"Nah," Kris vetoed, shaking his head likewise. "We need to get a big dog, you know? Nice big dog you can play fetch with and stuff. Those little dogs are okay, but the big ones--well, they're just real nice," Kris added thoughtfully.

"But I like the little ones," Adam replied to this, putting his arm around Kris's neck and planting a kiss on his soft floppy hair.

"You don't say," Kris said with a smirk as he leaned his head on Adam's shoulder.

"Shut up."

"Well," Kris said after a time, sort of staring across the room as his eyes took on that distance that told Adam he was in Kris-land again. "Maybe a medium-size dog then. With short hair. Like a beagle."

"Can't we just get a bird or something instead?" Adam asked. "Or a lizard or something? Or--hey, how about a snake," Adam added with a wicked smile. "That would be siiiick."

"Well maybe you can have a snake, and I can have my dog," Kris replied unperturbed.

"Great, so now we're going to have a fucking zoo then?"

"Why not? This place is big enough."

"And who's going to take care of all those things? I'm hardly home much as it is, and I can't see you coming out of your damn cave long enough to take a piss, much less pick up after a dog."

"Are we going to go over that again?"

"No, just saying. I know you, Kris Procrastinator Allen, which means I know if we get a damn dog or whatever the poor thing would just probably starve or something when I'm away."

"I wouldn't do that," Kris answered now, pulling away from Adam now and frowning like offended. "You think I'd neglect an animal like that?"

"Damn, chill out," Adam replied, rolling his eyes. "Why are you being so defensive? I was only joking."

"No you weren't."

"Yes I--Wait, what the fuck?" Adam said when Kris abruptly stood up from the bed and began to march out of the room. "What in the fuck's the matter?"

But Kris didn't answer, just flipped Adam the bird and stormed out the door as though Adam had called him a whore or something, so that Adam only sat there for a minute wondering what in the fuck he'd said that could have pissed Kris off so much.

"Mother of fuck," Adam muttered to himself after a moment, standing up from the bed and exiting the room likewise to go find that little shit, who naturally was locked in his cave and pissily playing his guitar, judging by the clumsy off-key notes that floated to Adam through the door.

Adam was about to knock on the door and shout something cold at Kris, but at the last minute he thought better of it, and turned away to go back upstairs and take a shower, then get dressed to go out and find something to eat because he would be fucked sideways if he was going to deal with this kind of fuckery on his fucking day off.

He didn't even bother to tell Kris he was leaving, just got into his car and drove through the big gate that protected his domain from the curious and the crazy, and motored off down the street without even noticing where he was going, just needed to get away so that he didn't kick Kris's study door open and slap his face off like the little bitch he was being.

However he didn't end up getting anything to eat after all, but rather drove to the top of the hills and parked the car to stare out the windshield at the vista below, a scrim of smog blanketing the valley so thickly that Adam's eyes could hardly see the buildings and the streets beneath it. But it was all right: for Adam knew that all it would take was a good rain to wash the haze away, and afterward the valley would be as clear and pristine as the promised land it promised to be for so many.

It was then that Adam started the car up again and drove home, where he carefully avoided Kris's study and made straight to the kitchen to try to find something to eat that he didn't have to cook. However, when he walked through the kitchen door he was surprised to find Kris sitting at the kitchen table staring out the window, dressed in an old t-shirt and jeans but bearing almost the exact same aspect he had on the morning that Katy had called him.

"I'm sorry," Kris said after time without turning his gaze from the window. "I acted like a jerk, I know. And I'm sorry."

"I just don't understand why you got so upset," Adam replied as he took a few steps toward Kris and then stood in front of him trying to read the expression on his face.

"I don't know," Kris replied, lowering his head and running his fingers through his hair. "It's just that you--I mean, maybe....I mean, I think you were right."

"Oh shit," Adam said, sitting down in the chair next to Kris and drawing the stupid boy into his arms. "Don't be such an idiot. I know you wouldn't neglect a dog or whatever, I mean--"

"No, that's not it," Kris replied, shaking his head. "I mean it is, but....Well, I mean that's sort of the story of my life, you know?" Kris added, glancing down at the floor. "I mean, I know it's why Katy left me--well, one of the reasons, anyway," Kris amended somewhat sheepishly. "And I know it's why I couldn't finish school, and why I'm pretty much nowhere now. But that's not your fault," Kris finished, reaching up to finger the hem of Adam's shirt. "So I'm sorry I got all weird on you."

"What, because you don't want to do anything except play music?" Adam asked, trying to look into Kris's woebegone face. "Don't you know how lucky you are, to have a passion in life? Most people don't have shit, Kris. All they have is their crappy job and their TV and their computer porn or whatever--no, I'm serious," Adam insisted when Kris snorted a little at that. "And anyway, even people who do have a passion aren't always good at what they do, and you are. Fuck, you're more than good, Kris. You were meant to do music and nothing else, even if means you sometimes forget to eat or sleep or put the cap on the fucking toothpaste tube. Which is why you need to be with somebody who gets that."

"You mean like you?" Kris asked with a faint smile.

"Damn straight."

"Well, 'straight' isn't exactly the word I would have picked," Kris smirked, then ducked his head with a giggle when Adam reached out to swat him on the hair.

"Oh my God, you're giggling! So what, does this mean you're not going to be all pissy and emo anymore for the rest of my fucking day off?"

"I don't know."

"Shit, I just don't even get you," Adam said, shaking his head as he watched Kris's face go from clouds to sunshine in the span of a minute.

But then, Kris's smile faded a little, and he pressed his lips together for a moment before he looked up into Adam's eyes, and said quietly "Actually, you do, Adam. Maybe more than anybody."

And before Adam even had time to respond to this Kris stood up from his chair and climbed into Adam's lap, his legs straddling Adam's hips as he fit his crotch snug with Adam's own and placed his hands on either side of Adam's face before parting his lips in that hungry, hazy way that drove Adam damn near crazy, and kissing Adam square on the mouth.

Oh God, Adam thought to himself dizzily as Kris slid his warm lips over Adam's with a passion like music, then drew away a little to pull his t-shirt off and unbutton the front of Adam's shirt so that he could press his bare chest against Adam's own while he kissed Adam's neck open-mouthed and ran his guitar-callused hands down Adam's sides till Adam was sure he was going to come right through the fabric of his jeans. However before he could start to beg Kris to please do something, God, Kris suddenly sunk down between Adam's knees and undid Adam's belt, then his jeans, and allowed Adam to fuck that sweet cherry-red mouth of his, Kris's eyes closing in something like helpless joy and his eyelashes fluttering against the fine smooth skin of his cheeks as Adam reached down and grasped that puppy-soft brown hair to thrust himself all the way in, to which Kris hummed around Adam's dick in approval and mashed his small perfect nose against Adam's belly as he swallowed Adam whole and Adam was almost glad that Kris had been such a little pisser today because Kris sure knew how to do make-up sex better than anybody else in the world, or even beyond.

"We can have a fucking dog," Adam muttered weakly after Kris had gulped down Adam's almost agonizing release and then lay his head on Adam's knee with a lazy smile, his lips faintly streaked with saliva and other things that made Adam tremble a little with the aftershock.

"No," Kris replied to that, closing his eyes and shaking his head against Adam's knee. "No point in having one if you don't want it around."

"Will you just shut up. Go get your fucking dog, I don't fucking care. It can even be a St. Bernard or whatever the fuck, just as long as the fucking thing doesn't get hair all over my clothes or whatever."

"I'll think about it," Kris said after licking a silvery drop off his bottom lip with a pink tongue and then looking up at Adam with a furrowed brow as though the whole damn dog idea had been Adam's in the first place.

"God, you suck. And no, don't even say it," Adam added when he saw Kris crack a wry smile and open his mouth to speak. "Because what you're going to do now is get up and make me something to eat, since I've fucking starved myself half the day all because of your stupid shit."

"So demanding," Kris said with a lopsided grin as he stood up from the floor and reached for his t-shirt. "Well what are you in the mood for? French toast? Eggs? or--"

"You can make me some of your biscuits and gravy, thank you very much. And keep your shirt off too if you please, since I prefer to have a nice view while my boy cooks for me."

"But it's cold in here."

"I don't give a fuck about that. And anyway the stove will warm you up while you cook over it."

"You jerk."

"I knooooow, right?"

"Just for that I should pick out a St. Bernard," Kris mumbled as he walked shirtless over to the stove and turned it on. "And train it to sleep in the closet so that it gets its hair all over your clothes."


"Uh-huh," Kris replied, opening one of the cabinet doors with a smile and pulling out a pan. "Takes one to know one, I guess."

Kris was, for the most part, clear skies and calm waters, which was something that Adam loved about him; but it was the sudden rare storms that blew in from the Pacific, and the sweet clarity of light and peace that followed afterward, that sometimes nearly overwhelmed Adam, and left him about as storm-tossed and turned around as a schooner on the high seas

The Mirror's Eye

Title: The Mirror's Eye
Kradam. R. From the Metaphors and Dinosaurs universe.
Disclaimer: Don't know these people. Never happened.

"Kris, are you ever coming out of there? Our reservations are ten."

Kris had snapped his head up abruptly at the sudden knock on the door of his study, then looked guiltily down at his guitar when he'd heard the words that Adam had called to him through the door, realizing that time had run away from him again, as it always did when he was composing.

However when he set his guitar down in its stand and opened the door at last, he couldn't help but smile a little when he saw that Adam was dressed to kill (natch): black jeans, shiny black boots, and a leather jacket Kris seemed to recall seeing Adam wear on one of the episodes of the show last spring, way back before Adam Lambert had even known that a person named Kris Allen even existed.

"Yeah, sure, I'm ready," Kris said now, stepping through the door and sort of running his hands over his rather crumpled plaid shirt.

"Really Kris? Really?" Adam replied with a frown as his eyes went over Kris's shirt, his worn jeans, his ancient Converse. "This isn't Chick-Fil-A we're going to, you know."

"Oh," Kris mumbled, staring down at his offending couture. "Well I guess I could change then."

"Come on," Adam said now, tugging on Kris's arm as his eyes began to sparkle a merry blue. "Let me dress you up tonight, make you look siiiiick."

"Well it's not like I'm gonna be able to fit into anything of yours," Kris reasoned as Adam dragged him down the hall toward the stairs.

"Nobody's saying anything about you wearing any of my things," Adam replied logically as he pushed Kris ahead of him up the staircase. "I have a surprise."

"Huh?" Kris said to this, turning around a little to look at Adam's face, but Adam only gently shoved him on the shoulders in response, and said "Will you just get your ass up the stairs please, or we're going to be late."

The "surprise" turned out to be far less specious than Kris had expected, amounting merely to a plain black button-up shirt made of some fine material that Adam had purchased somewhere on one of his shopping trips and that Adam had known would look "bangin" on Kris when he saw it "Size small," Kris said as though to himself with a crooked smile as he glanced at the label of the shirt that Adam held out for him.

"Never mind that, look at who the designer is!" Adam replied eagerly.

"Oh, yeah," Kris shrugged as he took the shirt from Adam's hands and lay it on the bed, though the truth was that Kris didn't know one designer from another and so if Adam had said it was from Target it would have made no difference to Kris at all.

"But first," Adam said as watched Kris unbutton his old plaid shirt and pull it off, "we're going to do something about that hair of yours."

"What's wrong with my hair?" Kris replied uneasily as Adam dragged Kris into the bathroom and sat him down on the toilet seat: his hair was a slightly touchy subject for Kris, though he would never in a million years admit that to anybody.

"It's all over the place, that's what's wrong," Adam muttered, teasing his fingers through Kris's hair and sort of tilting his head as he studied Kris contemplatively. "Maybe I'll just....Oh, I know," Adam said brightly now, reaching for one of the million bottles on the sink and squirting a dollop of something into his silver-ringed hands.

"Ugh, that stuff stinks," Kris said, wrinkling his nose as Adam ran the goop through Kris's hair and then maneuvered it this way and that.

"Shut up, it's gonna look fantastic," Adam replied absently, his eyes focused in concentration while he made Kris's strands do his bidding, before at last stepping away and smiling to himself in satisfaction as he observed his handiwork, then pointed to the bathroom mirror as he said to Kris "Well go on, check it out."

"Huh," Kris said when he peered into the mirror and saw not the scary fright he'd been expecting, but rather just him, with his hair neatened up and sort of sticking up a little but nothing too outrageous or absurd.

"Yeah, I guess that's okay," Kris shrugged after a moment, then turned to walk back out of the bathroom but not before Adam mimicked in exasperation "'I guess that's okay'? God, you're impossible, aren't you."

To this Kris merely waved his hand at Adam as he walked toward the bed and reached for the new shirt, only to be interrupted again by Adam saying behind him "Well you're not going to wear those jeans, are you? Don't you have some, like, nice pants or something?"

But whatever Adam was about to add was cut short when Kris turned to him and silently pointed his finger at Adam, then pointed to the bedroom door as he quirked his eyebrows at Adam meaningfully.

"Fine," Adam muttered at last, stomping toward the door. "But hurry up, I'm fucking starved."

Sheesh, Kris thought to himself as he kicked off his shoes and wriggled out of his jeans, then stepped toward the dresser to try to fish out a pair of pants that were "nice" or whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. However all Kris could find was a pair of black jeans he'd maybe worn only twice because they were somewhat too tight, but then he shrugged, figuring that if Adam didn't like it he could just kiss Kris's ass.

After having yanked and squeezed his way into the too-tight jeans, he then reached for the black shirt on the bed and drew it on, where to his surprise he found it fit perfectly--usually the sleeves of Size Small men's shirts were a bit too long for him, and the shoulders a bit too tight, but for some reason it was as though this particular garment had been made for him, as though somebody had known Kris's measurements exactly and had the shirt tailored to suit him.

"Oh," Kris said to himself then, looking down at the shirt after he'd buttoned it up and adjusted the cuffs. And then, as an afterthought, he unbuttoned the top few buttons again so that the shirt gaped somewhat alarmingly (at least to him) over his chest, before he went to the closet to dig out the black sneakers he'd gotten sometime within the last year but which he rarely wore, since he was somewhat attached to the beat-up white Converse that had made the journey with him from Arkansas a lifetime ago.

Peering into the full-length mirror that stood opposite to the bed in their room (yeah Kris knew exactly why Adam had had that mirror placed there, he thought to himself with a faint blush) he adjusted the collar of his shirt, fussed with his hair so that it had a bit more of a rakish aspect, and, once deciding that it was about the best he could do, he stepped toward the door at last and opened it, where he found Adam standing there with arms folded across his chest, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor as he muttered "So are you finally....Oh."

Whatever Adam had been about to say however seemed all forgot about when his gaze took in Kris's form, and there was a moment where Adam just stood there staring at Kris with an expression that made Kris reach uncertainly toward his hair before Adam suddenly closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, then released it very slowly as he opened his eyes again, and gazed down at Kris with that light-saber blue that had first drawn and quartered Kris on the initial night of their meeting.

"Fuck," Adam said under his breath after some moments passed, glancing away and licking his lips before turning that laser-beam gaze to Kris again. "If I had half a mind I'd take you out to the clubs in WeHo after dinner, just so that I show off to all those fucks what kind of gorgeous little twink I fucking caught in my hot little hands."

And before Kris could even utter a reply Adam reached out, grasped Kris by the back of the neck, and bent down to kiss Kris hard on the mouth, once, twice, three times before he drew away again and licked his lips with a catlike smile as he said "That's right. Let's go, so that I can make everybody at the restaurant pass out and die with jealousy when they get a look at you."

As though anybody would even notice me when you're around, Kris thought wryly to himself as Adam stepped aside to let Kris lead them down the stairs. All the same, Kris experienced a strange gratification in knowing that someone like Adam--that someone like Adam Lambert--would feel a sense of pride in being seen with a relative nobody like him.

It was a rainy night that night, and the drops on the windshield of Adam's Mustang caught the lights of the traffic like morning sun on the dew of a spiderweb as Adam drove them to the restaurant, Adam now and again singing quietly to himself some slower song that Kris had never heard before, or, as they sat at a red light, leaning over to kiss Kris on the neck, his black-nailed hand pressing warmly against Kris's thigh in almost but not-quite invitation till Adam drew back again when the light turned green, and stared straight ahead of him as though lost in reverie. They barely spoke.

A similar silence ensued between them even after they arrived at the restaurant at last and the valet took the keys from Adam, though to Kris's surprise Adam reached for Kris's hand as the paparazzi's cameras snapped away at the pair, Adam's big warm paw enfolding Kris's fingers tightly as though they were not in public and Kris tried not to let his astonishment show on his face even though Adam had never, till now, demonstrated any PDA with him, at least where anybody could see. But the bright look of defiance in Adam's eyes and the sort of wry half-smile on his face as he led Kris into the restaurant told Kris that Adam knew exactly what he was doing, and also knew the sort of reaction this display of affection would garner from any and all observers.

It had been all Adam's idea, of course, to go to some fancy restaurant for dinner on a Saturday night; however, the place itself was far more quiet and sober than anything Kris would have predicted Adam would have chosen, so that he found himself relaxing a little when he looked around at the hushed dark booths and candle-lit tables as the maitre-d' lead them to a private corner of the room--though of course, even the relatively staid patrons of the place still turned round to stare at the tall, leather-clad rake who by now was familiar to just about everyone in the country who was semi-conscious, before they adjusted their vision to observe Kris with curiosity, and yeah, Kris would have to admit, even a bit of admiration.

The restaurant turned out to be one of those places whose menus did not list the prices and whose offerings were indecipherable, and so Kris was content to let Adam order something for him, as well as some bottle of wine all of what sounded like fancy French words and which Kris immediately understood would cost at least a Ben Franklin if it was a dollar, though he permitted his uneasiness at this to drift away once the waiter departed at last and Adam leaned over the table with a small, almost shy smile to take Kris's hand in his, and squeeze it gently.

"You like?" Adam asked after a moment as he watched Kris look round the place once more, though Adam's own eyes seemed never to leave Kris's, as though he were searching for something within Kris's face that he needed to know the answer to.

"Sure," Kris shrugged, then smiled a little as his other hand reached for the--what was it? Bread?--on the small plate between them. "Don't know what half those things were on the menu, but I'm sure it won't be too bad."

"You little redneck," Adam replied with an indulgent smile as he watched Kris take a small bite from the bread or whatever it was--was bread supposed to have little green bits on it?--and chew on it cautiously. "I bet you'd be happy just eating Chick-Fil-A and wearing grungy old shirts forever, wouldn't you."

"Maybe," Kris answered with a smirk, broadening his drawl through the bite of bread in his mouth--was actually not too bad, green bits or not--then swallowing and wiping his lips on the back of his hand. "But there's more to life than fried chicken and plaid, you know," he added, squeezing Adam's hand briefly before he pressed his lips together, looked away.

At this Kris felt Adam's hand release his own, though before Kris could look up to try to understand what was wrong he found Adam bringing Kris's hand to his face, then pressing his warm open mouth in the hollow of Kris's palm as he closed his eyes.

"Adam," Kris heard himself whisper helplessly when Adam held Kris's palm against his cheek for a moment, his eyes opening now and gazing at Kris with a strange blue that was almost green in the shimmer of the candlelight from their table.

However they drew apart rather abruptly when the waiter returned with their drinks and a platter of something that Kris could hardly identify but which smelled even better than fried chicken, and for a time they were silent as they nibbled on their first course and sipped their drinks (vodka for Adam, a Budweiser for Kris "Ugh you gotta be kidding me," Adam had said with a face when Kris had ordered his drink), though now and again they would glance up at each other and sort of smile to each other over their food, and once or twice Kris felt Adam's toe press gently against his own beneath the table as though they shared a secret that the rest of the world was not privy to, or could possibly understand.

It continued that way for the rest of the meal, as the waiter poured the wine into Kris's glass and Kris got to have his first sample of something that wasn't Winn-Dixie Gallo or whatever, and after their main courses arrived at last and Kris was forced to admit that, yeah, there were some things that could be said to rival even Chick-Fil-A in tastiness.

And strange: for it seemed to Kris that the silence between them that evening was in no way awkward, but rather held within it a language of its own that seemed to express more than what their usual banter did, or even their rare declarations; and Kris had to wonder how a tall, dark, enigmatic superstar like Adam Lambert--how a man so enamored of spectacle and drama, a man who wore rings on every finger and whose miraculous eyes were lined like a midnight cat's, could all the same be as still as a summer night in Conway, and imbued with just as much longing.

Kris had almost forgotten that there was a time in the not-so-distant past that he'd sit out on his parents' back porch of an evening and dream of getting away from Conway: of escaping into a life where music came first rather than shoved in the corner so that he could work or go to school--a life much broader than the confines of what he knew in Arkansas but which he understood had to be out there, where he could be more than what the people in his life saw him as: where he might, maybe, at last be able to spread the wings that he kept folded so carefully around him, though where he thought he would fly to he at the time had no idea.

So it was rather strange to find that, when it came down to it, his destination turned out to be made of the very same night sky that had held his boyhood dreams--that the man who, once they'd gotten home at last and had climbed the stairs to their room, had undressed Kris carefully in front of the mirror, then sunk down on the floor before him to take Kris into his mouth while Kris was helpless to avert his eyes from the vision in the mirror's faithful reflection--that this man, this Adam Lambert, was the tall dark shadow that had lived in the most hidden part of Kris's midnight fantasies back home, and yet had the very flavor of the Arkansas moonlight that Kris had thought he'd left behind him, forever.

And maybe that's why when, after Adam had brought Kris to the brink, then over it, Kris knelt before Adam likewise in front of the very same mirror that Kris heretofore had scorned, so that Adam too might get to witness just what devotion, and contentment, and gratitude looked like, within the mirror's all-seeing but uncritical, unjudging eye.


Title: Afterimage
Kradam. R. From the Metaphors and Dinosaurs universe.
Disclaimer: Don't know these people. Never happened.
Note: I've been listening to the snippets of Kris Allen's album almost continuously, so I blame him for this chapter.

"God, I wish I didn't have to do that fucking thing tomorrow."

"What thing?"

"Going to New York, hello."

"Oh. Well you sort of use the word 'thing' for lots of different stuff, so it's not always easy to tell."



"But seriously, I mean we just moved in here, and now I've got to go all over the place again to do these things to promote the thing and--"

"There you go again, with that 'thing' thing."

"Shut up and let me finish."

"All right."

"Well this is no fun," Adam said, reaching across the bed and snatching the Sunday paper out of Kris's hands. "How are we supposed to have a good argument if all you'll say is 'Okay' or "All right' or whatever?"

"Okay," Kris said, smiling that crooked smile of his as he took off his glasses and leaned back luxuriously on his pillow. "What should I say instead? 'You jerk'? Or how about....'diva'? But nah," Kris amended, shaking his head. "That one's sort of overused, don't you think? I mean not by me, but by other people. So maybe....Oh, I know: how about 'crazy'?"

"You know it, baby," Adam purred as he leaned closer to Kris till Kris's honey-dark eyes were only inches from his own, before they closed helplessly when Adam reached beneath the sheets for Kris's already stirring cock.


It had seemed as though the day that Adam would have Kris safely ensconced in the Brentwood place would never come, that by the time escrow closed at last and the moving-in date was set Kris would somehow change his mind suddenly, or decide to scurry back to Arkansas again, or some fucking thing--Adam could never tell what went on in that exasperating boy's head--so that in a way when they finally stepped through the door of their house, keys in hand, what Adam had felt most was relief, before he decided to inaugurate the brand-new couch in their brand-new (plain-white, ugh) living room with a dazy hazy sex-drunk Kris splayed before him like an offering to Ra.

Which, in a way, it had been.

Though it's true that there were certain things that Adam hadn't particularly anticipated in this arrangement: for one, the ball games that would shout from the TV all weekend and even some weeknights (how many fucking sports games or whatever did Kris need to watch anyway?); and for two, the fact that, at odd and unpredictable times of the day or night, Kris would go into the basement studio, or worse, lock himself in his "study" for hours at a time, where by the time he emerged at last--pale, somehow, yet peaceful, his eyes almost drowsy with satisfaction--Adam couldn't do much else but take his boy in his arms and claim from him a payment for all those precious minutes when Adam had been deprived of Kris's company.

It was all worth it, though--was all worth it to have his own place, with his very own Southern Comfort American-pie sweet-faced boy who was there to open the door for him with a smile when Adam came back from one of his trips, or to cook for Adam some down-home Southern food that was like angels dancing on the head of a pin, or, best of all, to fuck his boy senseless wherever whenever without having to worry about Kris deciding to go home because he already was home and that was just how it needed to be.

And so it had been a sort of giddy Adam who, after he'd laid his Kris flat that Sunday morning and reaped the rewards of being Adam Lambert, picked up his phone and cryptically tweeted that one word, knowing full well that all his fans would go crazy trying to figure out what the fuck he meant by that, and taking great satisfaction in the knowledge.

As Adam was busy with his phone however, Kris's own phone chimed on the bedside table next to him; and since it was around the time that Mama Allen tended to call, Adam didn't take much notice of it (Oh my fucking Ra, Adam thought to himself when he received a particularly absurd @reply from a fan), until out of the corner of his eye he saw Kris freeze up after he answered his phone, and then turn abruptly away from Adam as he said into the phone in a low voice after a pause "Um. Hi."

But what made Adam forget all about his stupid Twitter was the fact that, after some moments, Kris stood up from the bed as he held his phone to his ear, and sort of stumbled out the bedroom door while he said into the phone quietly "Yeah. Yeah. Me too." And then he was gone.

At this Adam shut off his own phone, lay it on the bedside table, and stared up at the ceiling, trying his best to remain calm and collected because surely it was nothing: surely there was nothing amiss, after all it's not like Kris always left the room whenever he got a phone call from somebody, had even stayed with Adam when the calls started to come in from Arkansas after the media got hold of Adam's and Kris's thing (shut up) and so why the fuck did he need to leave the room this time because--

Fuck. Just....fuck.

When it seemed like ten hours had passed and Kris still hadn't returned, Adam sighed, stood up at last, then padded out of the room and down the stairs, where to his surprise he found no Kris in the study, found no Kris in the living room, and Adam pretty much searched the entire house till he finally stepped into the kitchen, and saw a small form sitting naked at the kitchen table, blank phone held listlessly in his hand as his shoulders curled around him and he stared at the floor with a grey face.

"Kris?" Adam asked after a moment when it seemed as though Kris hadn't noticed Adam's presence.

At this Kris swiftly looked up at Adam, then glanced away again but not before Adam saw the expression in his dark eyes, expression of a man who had seen a ghost.

"I....I mean, yeah," Kris said at last, swallowing a little and faintly nodding his head.

"Are you okay?" Adam asked now, quickly coming up to Kris and taking the chair beside him. "You look sick. Did something happen? Your mom--is she--"

"No, no," Kris replied, shaking his head and turning away. "That's not....Well."

"Well then what?"

But to Adam's surprise Kris suddenly dropped his phone on the kitchen table and brought his hands up to his face, whereupon instinct swept away everything else and Adam scooted closer to Kris, took him in his arms.

"What happened, baby?" Adam asked as he stroked Kris's hair and rocked him slowly back and forth. "What's the matter?"

"It was....It was....Oh shit, never mind," Kris responded in a choked voice, shaking his head against Adam's shoulder. "It'd just sound stupid."

"Nothing you could say could ever be stupid to me," Adam reassured him, pressing a kiss onto Kris's head. "But you don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to."

"It's nothing," Kris muttered against Adam's shoulder. "Just that--well, it was Katy, and--Well," Kris went on, as though he hadn't noticed that Adam had froze up at those words. "It was her, and...."

And suddenly it was like a dam had broken loose, for, unbelievably, Kris began to sob in Adam's arms, muffled, hoarse sobs as he inarticulately said things about Arkansas and how he was such a failure and how he let everybody down and how he was just no good and "Hush," Adam said after a time, mustering up the will to smooth his hand through Kris's hair again even though right then and there he felt like he'd been carved out of ice. "You're not a failure, Kris. Come on. And anyway," Adam said next, his tone growing sharper despite himself. "What did she say to you? Did she call you a failure?"

"No," Kris whispered, pressing his face against Adam's shoulder. "She was really nice, Adam. Had just called to say hi, that--I mean she knows all about the--but she was still really nice, and....and," he continued after swallowing hard, "and just wanted to tell me she hoped I was happy, that she never forgot me and that she was sorry things ended bad between us but that she still cared about me and....Oh God, it was all my fault," Kris said, shaking his head vehemently. "All my fault that stuff with her didn't work out. I just let her down because I'm a failure, a loser who couldn't get their shit together, and she deserved so much better than me. You know?" Kris said, lifting his head at last and staring into Adam's eyes, his own eyes lost and filled with the kind of agony Adam never imagined he could ever see within that face.

At this hot and angry words bubbled to Adam's lips, but they were immediately checked by the memory of a time in the not-too-distant past when, during one particularly champagne-soaked evening, he'd wailed to Kris pathetically about stuff with Brad, even though it was all over but the hurt of a breakup still will leave its ghostly afterimage to haunt you, and shout to you your failure even if you were now on top of the world and had everything.

And what had Kris done in response to that? Adam remembered damn well what Kris had done.

"Hush," Adam repeated now, holding Kris tight in his arms and banishing the ugly thoughts from his mind. "You are not a failure, Kris. You can't help but be who you are. And maybe I'm biased, but I think that Kristopher Neil Allen is kick-awesome."

"You idiot," Kris replied, taking a shaky breath and sort of smiling at Adam with his lopsided smile. But then, his smile faded, and he glanced at the floor as he went on with "I guess it's just that--I guess it's just that talking to her reminded me of things, and....And I know you may not want to hear this, but at one time she was everything I'd wished for."

And right then Adam suddenly remembered a pretty little blonde in the pictures of a MySpace page, a girl even tinier than Kris who looked up at him with warm eyes as he looked warmly down at her, and once more Adam wondered what in the fuck was Kris Allen doing a million miles from where he belonged, and couldn't help but wonder also if Kris was wondering the same thing just now.

It had reached a point where Adam could not imagine Kris being gone from his life--could not imagine a life where he was not blessed by sunny brown eyes and a land of smiles, a land where a small supple puppy-like body like the one that he now held in his arms was not available to him. Inconceivable.

But what was worse was imagining this same stalwart yet fragile boy broken by misery, and so Adam bowed his head for a moment in silent prayer to a God he didn't even believe in, before he managed to say at last "If you....If she wants you back...."

"No," Kris replied immediately, swiftly looking up at Adam again and blinking hard through the salt in his eyes. "I mean, she was everything to me, but that....Well, that life is gone. Forever," Kris said, glancing at the floor again. "I couldn't go back, even if I wanted to. And I don't."


"No, Adam," Kris said now, drawing away a little and taking Adam's hands in his. "That life was....Well, it's like it was only a dream, for me. It was what I wanted to be, but not--not who I really was. Or am. This is what I really am," Kris said, then added as he squeezed Adam's fingers hard in his own "And this is where I belong."

"Uh-huh," Adam replied, leaning forward to rest his chin on Kris's head. "You can just be a loser failure with me, Kris Allen. I am not minding it."

"Shut up."

"That's better," Adam smiled faintly, releasing his hand from Kris's own so that he could place his fingers under Kris's chin and tilt his head up till Kris was looking into his eyes. "Now just call me a jerk or a diva, and I'll know it's all good."

"You jerk," Kris replied, though the corner of his mouth twitched a little all the same as he said it. And even though Adam knew that it meant all would be well, for now--even as he coaxed Kris back up to the bedroom, and Kris willingly followed, Adam knew that there lived between them more than one silent ghost; for the specter of loss, and regret, is as hard to wash away from memory, as the afterimage of the sun behind closed eyes.

It was nothing new...

It was nothing new, of course, for Adam to invite himself over to Kris's hotel room whenever he felt like hanging out: to unceremoniously knock on the door as he called through it "Yoo-hoo, Mr. Allen, it's Mary Kay" or something, and have the door immediately crack open for him, to reveal a cute little face that smiled at him in greeting as it said "Sorry but I don't need any rouge today" or some other equally lame but amusing quip. What was new, however, was the fact that this was to be the last time.

And the unspoken knowledge of this seemed to dim their customary greeting that night, as Kris's smile was not quite as bright as usual when he answered the door, and Adam himself was clearly out of sorts since it took him a minute to realize that Kris wore nothing but one of the long white bathrobes the hotel provided, to which Adam heard himself say uncharacteristically "Oh, were you getting ready for bed? I'm sorry, I can leave."

"No no," Kris said, settling down on the bed and patting the space next to him with his hand. "I'm not sleepy. Not even the shower helped," he said a little wryly as Adam came up to him and sat next to him, drew his arm around Kris's neck as he always did when they were alone together, and Kris lay his head on Adam's shoulder with a sigh, closed his eyes.

"I know," Adam said after a moment, sort of running his jaw over Kris's shower-wet hair.

Kris said nothing to that, only pressed his face into Adam's shoulder, sighed again as Adam drew his other arm around Kris's waist.

But after some time had passed Kris gently extricated himself from Adam's hold, and said as he glanced down at the flocked bedspread "I can't do this anymore."

"I know," Adam replied, closing his eyes and trying to dismiss the cold space that had replaced the solid warmth of Kris's form. "I understand."

"That's not what I mean," Kris said now in a low voice, raising his eyes to Adam's with a wide-blown stare that made Adam start back a little. "I mean I can't just--I can't just sit here and hug you like that anymore, and not--Well, screw it."

"What are you....Oh my God," Adam groaned when Kris suddenly unbelted his bathrobe, then peeled it off right in front of Adam--and for a moment Adam thought he was on the verge of fainting as his eyes took in the almost heartbreaking perfection of Kris's body that he never thought he'd ever see in this lifetime, before Kris climbed into Adam's lap and clung to him like a cat in a tree, waiting to be rescued.

And right then all the questions, all the doubts, all the knowledge that this was wrong flew right out the window as Kris's solid form pressed against Adam's, and Adam buried his face into Kris's hot neck while his greedy hands pawed at Kris's body--as something beyond logic took over him at the feel, the taste, the reality of Kris's skin beneath his mouth and yes, he was kissing Kris's neck now, wet sloppy kisses interspersed with licking and sucking so that Adam's cheek was streaked with his own saliva when he pressed his face into Kris's neck again at the sound of Kris's soft sighs because it was too much, it was too much, and too sudden for Adam's mind to grasp and he needed to....he needed to breathe. Except instead of doing so he lifted his head from Kris's neck, cradled Kris's drugged-looking face in his hands, and kissed that fucking mouth that had fucked with his head since November of the year before.

There are occasionally times in life where everything comes together: where all the threads of one's existence suddenly pull into a complete tapestry, despite the fact that just moments before they seemed nothing but a bunch of loose ends that had nothing to do with each other. And it was like that as Kris wrapped his arms around Adam's neck and pulled him into the kiss, as they lay down on the bed and made out as though everything since last November had been working toward this point, and suddenly it did not matter how wrong this was since it felt so fucking right, just felt right to have Kris in his arms while he kissed the living breath out of Kris and Kris kissed him back with equal ferocity, those warm red lips sliding over Adam's with a passion Adam had hardly imagined Kris was capable of, as those dark drowsy eyes gazed into his own when they parted for a moment to just stare at each other with the wonder of it all and that was it: Adam didn't give a fuck anymore since this was just where he belonged, just where he had to be, needed to be, so that when Kris's shaking fingers began tugging at Adam's clothing and Kris's cock pressed into his thigh Adam lowered his head and whispered against Kris's cheek "I need to fuck you, Kris. Right now. Because I think I'll die if I don't."

To this Adam only received in response a small feral growl as Kris planted his lips on Adam's neck and dug his fingers into Adam's spine, and the momentum that had carried them thus far did not stop even as Adam paused to finally undress himself and align his body with Kris's, though the sensation of their flesh coming together at last forced them both to grow still for a moment in order to savor it with small breathless groans, before Adam's mouth found Kris's once more and kissed him with a dizziness he had never experienced before in his life, as though there was no tomorrow after today and there had never been a yesterday and nothing mattered at all except for this: to have Kris in his arms as though he were born to be there, and at one point they both broke the kiss to smile against each other's lips, their gaze bright and giddy as they looked into each other's eyes because the miracle had happened and they were one now, the same being, the same soul and Adam knew it was going to be okay, it was going to be all right; it was fine.

It was just fine, for Adam to take Kris's gorgeous cock in his mouth as he slowly inserted his spit-slicked fingers into Kris; it was just fine, for Kris to moan and clutch Adam's hair and shove himself deeper down Adam's throat as Adam got him ready; it was just fine for Adam to finally, finally, oh ever so slowly but so very deliciously ease himself into Kris, watching Kris's face draw into faint surprise at first, then clench a little with discomfort, before his eyes closed and his mouth dropped open when Adam's cock found Kris's special spot and Adam was able to bestow upon Kris his first experience of unalloyed ecstasy.

And it was just fine, because the way Kris responded--the way he wrapped his legs around Adam's waist, the way he arched his spine as though to take in more despite the peripheral discomfort he must be feeling--the way his eyes darkened as though drugged, his face slackening as though he were immersed in a wonderland of dreams, the hungry sounds he made as Adam fucked him--all of it told Adam that there was no fucking way in hell this wasn't going to happen again, there was no fucking way Kris wouldn't want this again and it better be true because God, Adam could not imagine a future where he did not get to do this with Kris a thousand times over, God would not be so cruel as to give this to Adam only to snatch it away again, especially oh God when Kris came at last, when Adam was able to draw from Kris the indubitable evidence of his joy all over his belly and Adam's, and with a final open-mouthed kiss on Kris's abused lips Adam let come to an end the longest journey he'd ever taken in his life, a journey that had taken him beyond the borders of where he'd ever expected to go, or dared dream of.

For a long time afterward they didn't stir, Adam merely lying on top of Kris's body as his cock grew soft within Kris, Kris's arms around Adam's neck solid but unmoving, their faces pressed together but neither of them uttering a breath, as the soft silence of the room filled with the noiseless ticking of time's inexorable march, because outside of the bubble of this room--outside of this bubble where, for a brief time, time had ceased to live, there lived the world, and the future, and all that went with it.

And right then Adam only wished for one thing, which was to encase that bubble in lucite, freeze it in its perfect form forever, so as to never be popped by time's careless hand. But since he knew that could not be, that the world outside waited for them, he merely gifted himself with one last illusion of permanence, and held the breath he realized he'd meant to release an hour and a lifetime ago, but never did.