I hate titling fic, I hate it.
Title: Vintage If You Make It
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Kris convinces Adam he should keep his ugly furniture. Pretty much PWP.
Wordcount: 3600
A/N: Many thanks to moonmelody for an amazing beta. Your input shaped this into something so much better than it was before ♥
It makes Adam laugh now - or gasp as Kris licks up the side of his cock, gaze hot and determined - that he ever imagined Kris to be innocent.
“Honestly,” Kris says, one shoulder rising. His breath flickers warm over the tip of Adam’s dick and it’s a good thing Kris has an arm thrown over Adam’s stomach, beautiful splay of tan skin against the pale cut of Adam’s hip. “It’s not like there’s much to do back home, you know?”
He says it so conversationally that Adam has no issue twining his hand into the fabric of Kris’s shirt and impatiently pulling in. The tip of Kris's nose brushes against Adam's balls. “Jesus, Kris, just get on with it.“
They're in Kris's home, now, in LA. Adam's reclined in the only item Kris had insisted on bringing from Conway - or, more likely, the only one Katy had insisted on him taking in the divorce: a god-awful, beat-to-hell easy chair. The fabric is matted and nubbly, but the cushioning is soft, and Kris had stripped Adam down and pressed him naked into it before sinking to his knees.
Adam pretty much hates it, but Kris running his mouth all over Adam’s dick has completely derailed his argument against keeping the ugly thing.
Kris twists out of Adam's grasp now and leans back onto his heels. He grins, molasses slow and just as sweet; deceptive. He doesn’t let up on his rambling. “Everyone thinks Arkansas is all backwater, small-minded hillbilly, you know? I bet even you thought that, didn’t you, Adam?”
Kris likes to do this, sometimes. Push and prod until Adam gives, until he admits just how deep Kris has gotten under his skin, be it with words or grunts. It’s rare, but Adam doesn’t fault Kris for wanting to have the upper hand some of the time. So he plays along, letting Kris up the ante and peel away at Adam's layers one at a time.
Now, Kris drags his fingertips over the surface, calloused texture playing on Adam’s nerves as easily as they do his guitar. Strung out from Kris’s teasing, Adam tries to focus on the way the metal of his rings bites into his palm instead; how they glimmer against Kris’s plaid. He breathes deep.
“It’s ok, you know,” Kris says, looking up at Adam from beneath his lashes. Kris must really be keyed up to push so hard. He drawls on, rich and slow, and it resonates low in Adam’s gut. Maybe he’s not allowing Kris to have control as much as Kris is wrestling it away. “Most people do, I’m used to it by now.”
“Less talking, more sucking,” Adam tries to order, doing his best to keep his voice steady. Kris glances up to catch Adam’s eye and flat out laughs. His eyes crinkle at the corners, oh-so-pleased with himself, and Adam is so seriously reconsidering the type of guys he falls for after this. Fucking tease.
He grows even more determined when Kris takes his hands away completely, slowly running them down the front of his shirt instead, popping the buttons open until it hangs loose from his shoulders. Kris has pulled back just out of Adam's reach, and it frustrates him to no end, fingertips gliding through air instead of falling on the smooth skin of Kris's collarbone. Kris shrugs the material off completely.
When Adam leans forward to try and touch again, Kris shifts up on his knees, curling both palms on Adam’s hips and forcing him back against the chair. He rises with a smirk, sure of himself, and it's the most gorgeous thing Adam's ever seen. Smooth, tan skin that Adam wants to mark up, flesh that would look oh-so-pretty with bruised smudges peeking out from the cut of Kris's jeans, fanning over his hips. Adam's gaze slides across to the dark line of hair leading down, to Kris's hands as he lowers the zip, jeans and boxer-briefs taking the same path only seconds later.
He's hard, cock curving up towards his stomach, and Adam just wants Kris to get on with it, wants to slide his hands all over those tight muscles and soft skin. But instead of climbing into Adam's lap, Kris sinks back down onto his knees and palms Adam's thighs, thumb tracing slow and teasing.
Kris slides his hands higher, eyes on Adam's face, pressing bruises of his own onto Adam's skin. Adam could shift around a bit, he knows; he could move and get some leverage and buck Kris off easily, but Kris is leaning in to trace his tongue along Adam’s skin, the touch almost non-existent. The muscles of Adam’s stomach twitch as Kris ever so slowly twirls his tongue higher, following the course trail of hair up, up, to dip into Adam’s belly-button.
That seriously shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
“I was sixteen, the first time,” Kris says, his breath ghosting across Adam’s stomach. The first time you what, Adam wants to say, but it’s clear where Kris is heading with this conversation. Adam almost bites through his lip at the thought, dozens of firsts that Kris could be talking about, images of him eager and young - younger, god - flashing through Adam’s mind at a lightning pace.
“The first time I jerked off with another guy, I mean,” Kris clarifies, and the images change with the trip of Adam’s heartbeat. Adam assumed that he was the first guy Kris had been with. He’d never even thought to ask.
Kris slides his mouth up Adam’s chest, his lower lip dragging like velvet. “It was hot, Adam, and we were both so nervous. Neither of us knew if we were doing it right, we both wanted to make sure, so we - together.”
The chair fabric is fraying beneath Adam’s left arm, the threads tickling the soft skin of his forearm, but the rest is scratchy, an irritation against his bare back every time Kris makes Adam squirm.
“You’re killing me here,” Adam groans. Kris is kneeling on the chair's edge, now, and Adam wraps his palms around Kris’s hips, tries to pull him down firmer on his cock, relieve some of the pressure, but Kris’s skin is slick with sweat. Adam can’t get a good grip. “Why are you telling me this now?“
Kris finally settles himself down, his knees bracketing Adam’s hips. He doesn’t stop moving, though, a slow, sinuous roll of his body that Adam never could have imagined either. Adam’s cock keeps slipping between the rounded globes of Kris’s ass, and Adam throws his head back and groans.
“I’m sorry you ever felt ashamed for it,” Kris whispers, seemingly forgetting his game for a moment. “And I needed you to know.”
His fingers are splayed across Adam’s heart, stroking back-forth, like he thinks he can massage the ache away. He’s the kind of guy who would try, Adam thinks, and curls his fingers around the slender bones of Kris’s wrist.
“That was a long time ago,” Adam whispers back, “I grew out of it. But you, always - always surprising me.”
He cranes his neck up to press their lips together, licking his way into Kris's mouth and loving how easily Kris opens for him. Adam thrusts his tongue deep, tip dragging across the back of Kris’s teeth. He sucks on Kris’s tongue, heady with the faint taste of himself that he finds there. It’s amazing, still, the way Kris melts against him, like he can’t survive with out being plastered as close to Adam as he can get. It makes Adam’s head spin, being wanted with such open honesty.
They make out for a long time, and Adam could be happy with just this, he could: Kris in his arms, writhing and pouring everything into intense, drugging kisses, but eventually Adam needs more. He nips at Kris’s lower lip one last time and pulls back; shoves none-to-gently at Kris and how he’s pinning Adam down to the chair with his weight. “C’mon, Kris. I wanna fuck you. Let me up.”
Kris hums, still trailing his mouth along Adam’s jaw, tongue twirling hot and rapid down Adam’s neck, over his pulse.
“Katy loved this chair, actually. Liked to ride me on it, you know?” Kris leans in; worries the lobe of Adam’s ear between his teeth, and a chill tingles down Adam’s spine like frost when Kris breathes, “I wanna ride you like that.”
Katy’s never been an off limit topic between them - she and Kris were together since almost childhood, and Adam could never find it in him to be jealous of something that began with such purity - but Kris has never brought her up like this. It doesn’t take much to piece together what Kris is trying to do.
Adam lets his eyes slip shut, his head lolling back on the top of the chair. Kris takes the opportunity to ravish Adam’s neck, press of tongue against flesh, nipping love-bites. His hips keep rocking, slow, torturous circles.
“Keep trying to make me jealous,” Adam says. He slaps his hands down on Kris’s ass the next time he shifts forward, the sound ringing in Adam’s ears. Kris gasps, his lips forming a perfect O in shock, before sliding into a pleased grin. Adam pulls Kris’s cheeks apart, his fingertips brushing over Kris’s hole and Kris - Kris just spreads his legs wider and grinds back. He’s driving Adam insane and he knows it, if the gleam in his eyes is any indication.
“Kris,” Adam groans.
“Yeah,” Kris says. He licks his lips and stares Adam straight in the eye. “C’mon, then. Open me up. Fuck me with your fingers, get me all wet.”
“Jesus Christ,” Adam says, and grips Kris by the hips, loving the way the skin goes pink and white beneath his touch. He’s wanted it bad before, yeah, but Kris is driving Adam out of his mind. The room feels like a sauna, Adam’s skin prickling with it, but Kris is even hotter. Kris digs in the side of the side of the chair, bending impossibly far backwards, and returns, triumphant, tube of lubricant in hand.
“Aren’t you the boyscout,” Adam says, and Kris shoots him a ridiculously adorable grin.
Kris pulls himself up, grabs Adam’s wrist and guides his fingers back. Normally, Adam would protest: if there’s one thing he doesn’t need a lesson in, it’s getting a guy ready to take his cock. But Adam can barely remember his name, the way Kris is licking at his skin, dragging his hands all over Adam’s chest, only to follow the faint lines with scraping teeth.
And he doesn’t let up on the filth, either. “This. This was further than my friends wanted to go, you know? Woulda - fuck, there - woulda made ‘em gay, for real. But I knew. Doesn’t - doesn’t matter. Not when it feels so good.”
The last bit of Kris’s speech is drawn out, vowels elongated into a moan. Adam can’t help but smirk, just the tiniest bit, vindicated. It’s not that Adam can’t hand over the reigns, but Kris is so beautiful like this: wanton and desperate, stretched hot around three of Adam’s fingers. He rubs his thumb down the crease of Kris’s ass, loving how Kris automatically bucks forward, his cock smearing wet between their stomachs.
“Gonna put it to you so good, baby,” Adam purrs, and Kris thrusts his hips back, trying to get off from just this, from Adam’s fingers inside of him. “Look at your greedy little hole sucking at me so bad. So desperate for it.”
“Ready. C’mon. Adam,” Kris whines. Adam can’t take much more himself, and he pulls his fingers out, slow, loving the way Kris groans at the loss and rubs himself back along the shaft of Adam’s dick.
But Kris started this, and if it's teasing he wants, well. Adam can play along. He's willing to hold out just a little longer.
“This is your game, Kris. Tell me more. How’d you ever deal if no one would give you this? Did you do it yourself? Find Katy’s vibrator and shove it inside?”
“Oh, God,” Kris groans. He’s shaking beneath Adam’s hands, every muscle tight. Sweat beads on his forehead and Adam tracks a single drop as it slides down Kris’s temple, his cheek, beads and hangs at the tip of his chin. Adam leans in and catches it on his tongue.
“Tell me,” he insists, his lashes fluttering against Kris’s skin. He places gentle kisses under Kris’s jaw, skin jumping beneath Adam’s lips when Kris finally finds words.
“I did,” and Adam rewards Kris’s admission with a slight tilt of his hips. The head of his cock snags on Kris's asshole, so slick with lube, so open from Adam's fingers, and Kris moans when Adam slides back away. “Adam, please.”
“What else? Hmm? Did you beg your friends to let you suck their cocks? I bet you did, bet you convinced them there was nothing wrong with that.”
Adam leans in, letting his breath fall over Kris’s nipple, watching the flesh pebble when he darts his tongue out to lick. He nips, quick and sharp with his teeth, and angles his face towards Kris. “Well?”
“They - fuck, Adam - they didn’t mind. They just thought I was, I -“
Kris falters here, for the first time, and Adam feels him tremble beneath his lips. He hadn’t intended to make Kris uncomfortable. “Hey. You don’t have to tell me if - “
Kris steels himself, his fingers tightening on Adam’s shoulders. “No, it’s ok, I just. Needy, they thought I was just needy is all. I convinced them that it was all me, that they were just being really good friends by letting me.”
Adam wants to laugh. Only Kris would think he had to persuade guys to let him suck them off.
“No wonder you have so many friends,” Adam jokes, and drags his hands over Kris’s ass, parting his cheeks and rutting up between. “I’m sure it was such a hardship for them.”
“We bonded,” Kris says. His lips quirk and he relaxes slightly back into Adam’s touch, trusting completely. It’s a blessing that no one ever took advantage of that sweet nature, Adam knows, because he can’t even imagine Kris being hurt. He can’t imagine Kris putting up walls.
“I like you needy,” Adam murmurs, and cants his hips forward. He spreads his palms across the back of Kris’s thighs, holding him open, heat so close to the head of Adam’s cock. “It works on you.”
Kris moans, hands clutched tight on Adam's shoulder, and stares at Adam, eyes bright and pleading. It hits Adam then: there’s more too it, more that Kris wants to tell him. More that he needs to get off his chest and it’s up to Adam to get him past whatever is holding him back.
“You keep saying they, Kris. Just how many guys were there?“ Kris shuts his eyes, tight, and worries his lip between his teeth. It takes Adam butting his forehead against Kris’s chin to get him to open them again, half-mast, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as they color under the weight of what Kris has to say. “Tell me,” Adam whispers.
Kris swallows hard and shivers. “Five. I. One night, I convinced all of them to, I - “
“Oh my god, you can not be for real,” Adam breathes, and tugs Kris down onto his cock.
The pressure is incredible. No matter how many times they do this, it will never cease to amaze Adam, the way Kris's body slots perfectly against his own, hips to ass to thighs. Kris’s admission buzzes in Adam’s ears, but Kris melts in his arms; his taste sits heavy on Adam’s tongue, Kris’s mouth open and wide for Adam alone.
Kris is his, right now and maybe even forever. Kris’s fingertips on Adam’s skin are a solid reminder, but the thought of Kris with those other guys, letting them use him, wanting them to - Adam bites down on Kris’s lower lip, sucking it hard between his teeth when Kris whimpers.
Kris bends when Adam shifts and thrusts up, hard, his hands flexing on Kris’s hips and leaving the bruises Adam had wanted to mark him with from the start. His spine arches inward, Kris’s head thrown back, his whole body pliant, flexible, tight around Adam’s cock, and it strikes Adam that maybe he just hadn't let himself see what had been there all along. Kris always bent to everyone else's will just as easily as his body does now; he swayed with the group's ever changing moods, Adam's above all.
It's addicting, knowing that Adam has power like that, that Kris would do whatever Adam asks of him. One day, Adam will test it out, push Kris to his limits. Tie him up and make him beg and cry out -
But not now. Now Adam doesn't have to do a damn thing. The greater truth is that Adam will never have to make Kris do anything. Kris wants and he takes, shameless and open.
Kris wiggles beautifully on Adam’s cock, knees pressed tight around his hips. Adam can barely hold back at the sight of him, flush creeping down his neck, muscles tight and strained. Kris’s mouth is bitten red, wet and open as he pants, as he lifts himself up and falls slippery back down Adam’s dick. Adam throws his head back and clenches his fingers even tighter onto Kris’s hips, his entire body spiking with heat and pleasure.
Through the haze, Adam can hear Kris rambling on still, and he slams his hips up as much as the soft cushioning beneath him will allow, determined to drive Kris to incoherency.
“Never - never like this,” Kris is chanting. The muscles of his arms strain as he leans against the chair and rocks his body. Adam slides his fingers down the contour of Kris’s back, his fingers slicking through the sweat that drips between his shoulder blades. When he reaches the base of Kris’s spine, Kris gasps, clenching down almost painfully on Adam’s cock.
“Yeah?” Adam says, not really a question, and slides his fingers lower, tracing the stretched skin where his dick presses into Kris; where Kris is fucking himself into oblivion. Adam teases at Kris’s hole, and when he feels Kris begin to relax once more, he slides two fingers in along with his cock.
Kris's reaction is instant. "Ah-Adam," he chokes out, throwing his head back, his whole body shivering. He clenches against Adam's cock, his fingers, and Adam bites his own lip hard enough to taste blood, metallic and sharp on his tongue. Kris cries out once more, body bucking wildly, and fumbles for his dick, pumping through his fist frantically.
"C'mon, just a little more," Adam groans, overwhelmed. Kris's thighs slap against Adam's, solid, dirty noise cracking through the room and Kris cries out when Adam slips his thumb over the slick head of his cock where it peeks out from his fist.
Adam doesn’t know what pushed Kris to do this tonight, to come clean, to spill his secrets and lay himself bare, but Adam knows how much it takes to do so. He leans in to taste the salt of Kris's skin, laying his claim with hands and teeth, and Kris loses it, locking up tight and coming undone. Adam barely registers the hot splash of Kris's come across his knuckles, between their stomachs, but he feels the way Kris's hole tightens around him, the way his knees squeeze against Adam's sides strong enough to steal his breath.
Adam worries the same spot on Kris's neck with his mouth, then gasps, teeth scraping along skin as he thrusts and feels his own orgasm spiral out. Sparks dance in the blackness behind his lids, Kris's body warm around him, thrusts slippery now with come.
They stay huddled together, Adam too boneless to move, Kris apparently just as reluctant. It's gonna be almost impossible to clean up after this, but when Adam slips his fingers out and wipes them, sticky, along Kris's skin, he doesn't really care about anything but right now.
"So," Kris says. His breath feathers hot against Adam's shoulder and Kris follows with a press of his mouth, open and gasping. He tilts his face up, beautifully vulnerable and open. "You, uh. You really think I should ditch this thing?"
It’s not really what he’s asking. Adam sees the question in his eyes, is it all ok?; hears the hitch in his voice, does this change how you feel? Adam knows these questions because he’s asked them of his boyfriends before, explained away his past with baited breath.
Kris has never asked him to.
Adam runs his fingers through the sweat spiked hair that tickles against his chin and relaxes back. "Do you," he starts, then pauses, trying to find the right words. The chair itself is disgusting, especially now, stench of sweat and sex worked into the fabric, but there’s more at stake than a piece of furniture. “It’s part of your history, you know? I get that.”
“I’ve had it since I first moved out,” Kris admits. He runs his fingers along the chair’s arm, absentmindedly. “I dunno, it just. It felt wrong to throw it away.”
Adam tilts his head back and Kris tucks himself even tighter under Adam’s arm, if that’s possible. He always seems to find a way.
“Yeah,” Adam says, and lets his eyes slip shut, one of Kris’s hands curled around the armrest, the other flat over Adam’s heart, “The chair stays."
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Kris convinces Adam he should keep his ugly furniture. Pretty much PWP.
Wordcount: 3600
A/N: Many thanks to moonmelody for an amazing beta. Your input shaped this into something so much better than it was before ♥
It makes Adam laugh now - or gasp as Kris licks up the side of his cock, gaze hot and determined - that he ever imagined Kris to be innocent.
“Honestly,” Kris says, one shoulder rising. His breath flickers warm over the tip of Adam’s dick and it’s a good thing Kris has an arm thrown over Adam’s stomach, beautiful splay of tan skin against the pale cut of Adam’s hip. “It’s not like there’s much to do back home, you know?”
He says it so conversationally that Adam has no issue twining his hand into the fabric of Kris’s shirt and impatiently pulling in. The tip of Kris's nose brushes against Adam's balls. “Jesus, Kris, just get on with it.“
They're in Kris's home, now, in LA. Adam's reclined in the only item Kris had insisted on bringing from Conway - or, more likely, the only one Katy had insisted on him taking in the divorce: a god-awful, beat-to-hell easy chair. The fabric is matted and nubbly, but the cushioning is soft, and Kris had stripped Adam down and pressed him naked into it before sinking to his knees.
Adam pretty much hates it, but Kris running his mouth all over Adam’s dick has completely derailed his argument against keeping the ugly thing.
Kris twists out of Adam's grasp now and leans back onto his heels. He grins, molasses slow and just as sweet; deceptive. He doesn’t let up on his rambling. “Everyone thinks Arkansas is all backwater, small-minded hillbilly, you know? I bet even you thought that, didn’t you, Adam?”
Kris likes to do this, sometimes. Push and prod until Adam gives, until he admits just how deep Kris has gotten under his skin, be it with words or grunts. It’s rare, but Adam doesn’t fault Kris for wanting to have the upper hand some of the time. So he plays along, letting Kris up the ante and peel away at Adam's layers one at a time.
Now, Kris drags his fingertips over the surface, calloused texture playing on Adam’s nerves as easily as they do his guitar. Strung out from Kris’s teasing, Adam tries to focus on the way the metal of his rings bites into his palm instead; how they glimmer against Kris’s plaid. He breathes deep.
“It’s ok, you know,” Kris says, looking up at Adam from beneath his lashes. Kris must really be keyed up to push so hard. He drawls on, rich and slow, and it resonates low in Adam’s gut. Maybe he’s not allowing Kris to have control as much as Kris is wrestling it away. “Most people do, I’m used to it by now.”
“Less talking, more sucking,” Adam tries to order, doing his best to keep his voice steady. Kris glances up to catch Adam’s eye and flat out laughs. His eyes crinkle at the corners, oh-so-pleased with himself, and Adam is so seriously reconsidering the type of guys he falls for after this. Fucking tease.
He grows even more determined when Kris takes his hands away completely, slowly running them down the front of his shirt instead, popping the buttons open until it hangs loose from his shoulders. Kris has pulled back just out of Adam's reach, and it frustrates him to no end, fingertips gliding through air instead of falling on the smooth skin of Kris's collarbone. Kris shrugs the material off completely.
When Adam leans forward to try and touch again, Kris shifts up on his knees, curling both palms on Adam’s hips and forcing him back against the chair. He rises with a smirk, sure of himself, and it's the most gorgeous thing Adam's ever seen. Smooth, tan skin that Adam wants to mark up, flesh that would look oh-so-pretty with bruised smudges peeking out from the cut of Kris's jeans, fanning over his hips. Adam's gaze slides across to the dark line of hair leading down, to Kris's hands as he lowers the zip, jeans and boxer-briefs taking the same path only seconds later.
He's hard, cock curving up towards his stomach, and Adam just wants Kris to get on with it, wants to slide his hands all over those tight muscles and soft skin. But instead of climbing into Adam's lap, Kris sinks back down onto his knees and palms Adam's thighs, thumb tracing slow and teasing.
Kris slides his hands higher, eyes on Adam's face, pressing bruises of his own onto Adam's skin. Adam could shift around a bit, he knows; he could move and get some leverage and buck Kris off easily, but Kris is leaning in to trace his tongue along Adam’s skin, the touch almost non-existent. The muscles of Adam’s stomach twitch as Kris ever so slowly twirls his tongue higher, following the course trail of hair up, up, to dip into Adam’s belly-button.
That seriously shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
“I was sixteen, the first time,” Kris says, his breath ghosting across Adam’s stomach. The first time you what, Adam wants to say, but it’s clear where Kris is heading with this conversation. Adam almost bites through his lip at the thought, dozens of firsts that Kris could be talking about, images of him eager and young - younger, god - flashing through Adam’s mind at a lightning pace.
“The first time I jerked off with another guy, I mean,” Kris clarifies, and the images change with the trip of Adam’s heartbeat. Adam assumed that he was the first guy Kris had been with. He’d never even thought to ask.
Kris slides his mouth up Adam’s chest, his lower lip dragging like velvet. “It was hot, Adam, and we were both so nervous. Neither of us knew if we were doing it right, we both wanted to make sure, so we - together.”
The chair fabric is fraying beneath Adam’s left arm, the threads tickling the soft skin of his forearm, but the rest is scratchy, an irritation against his bare back every time Kris makes Adam squirm.
“You’re killing me here,” Adam groans. Kris is kneeling on the chair's edge, now, and Adam wraps his palms around Kris’s hips, tries to pull him down firmer on his cock, relieve some of the pressure, but Kris’s skin is slick with sweat. Adam can’t get a good grip. “Why are you telling me this now?“
Kris finally settles himself down, his knees bracketing Adam’s hips. He doesn’t stop moving, though, a slow, sinuous roll of his body that Adam never could have imagined either. Adam’s cock keeps slipping between the rounded globes of Kris’s ass, and Adam throws his head back and groans.
“I’m sorry you ever felt ashamed for it,” Kris whispers, seemingly forgetting his game for a moment. “And I needed you to know.”
His fingers are splayed across Adam’s heart, stroking back-forth, like he thinks he can massage the ache away. He’s the kind of guy who would try, Adam thinks, and curls his fingers around the slender bones of Kris’s wrist.
“That was a long time ago,” Adam whispers back, “I grew out of it. But you, always - always surprising me.”
He cranes his neck up to press their lips together, licking his way into Kris's mouth and loving how easily Kris opens for him. Adam thrusts his tongue deep, tip dragging across the back of Kris’s teeth. He sucks on Kris’s tongue, heady with the faint taste of himself that he finds there. It’s amazing, still, the way Kris melts against him, like he can’t survive with out being plastered as close to Adam as he can get. It makes Adam’s head spin, being wanted with such open honesty.
They make out for a long time, and Adam could be happy with just this, he could: Kris in his arms, writhing and pouring everything into intense, drugging kisses, but eventually Adam needs more. He nips at Kris’s lower lip one last time and pulls back; shoves none-to-gently at Kris and how he’s pinning Adam down to the chair with his weight. “C’mon, Kris. I wanna fuck you. Let me up.”
Kris hums, still trailing his mouth along Adam’s jaw, tongue twirling hot and rapid down Adam’s neck, over his pulse.
“Katy loved this chair, actually. Liked to ride me on it, you know?” Kris leans in; worries the lobe of Adam’s ear between his teeth, and a chill tingles down Adam’s spine like frost when Kris breathes, “I wanna ride you like that.”
Katy’s never been an off limit topic between them - she and Kris were together since almost childhood, and Adam could never find it in him to be jealous of something that began with such purity - but Kris has never brought her up like this. It doesn’t take much to piece together what Kris is trying to do.
Adam lets his eyes slip shut, his head lolling back on the top of the chair. Kris takes the opportunity to ravish Adam’s neck, press of tongue against flesh, nipping love-bites. His hips keep rocking, slow, torturous circles.
“Keep trying to make me jealous,” Adam says. He slaps his hands down on Kris’s ass the next time he shifts forward, the sound ringing in Adam’s ears. Kris gasps, his lips forming a perfect O in shock, before sliding into a pleased grin. Adam pulls Kris’s cheeks apart, his fingertips brushing over Kris’s hole and Kris - Kris just spreads his legs wider and grinds back. He’s driving Adam insane and he knows it, if the gleam in his eyes is any indication.
“Kris,” Adam groans.
“Yeah,” Kris says. He licks his lips and stares Adam straight in the eye. “C’mon, then. Open me up. Fuck me with your fingers, get me all wet.”
“Jesus Christ,” Adam says, and grips Kris by the hips, loving the way the skin goes pink and white beneath his touch. He’s wanted it bad before, yeah, but Kris is driving Adam out of his mind. The room feels like a sauna, Adam’s skin prickling with it, but Kris is even hotter. Kris digs in the side of the side of the chair, bending impossibly far backwards, and returns, triumphant, tube of lubricant in hand.
“Aren’t you the boyscout,” Adam says, and Kris shoots him a ridiculously adorable grin.
Kris pulls himself up, grabs Adam’s wrist and guides his fingers back. Normally, Adam would protest: if there’s one thing he doesn’t need a lesson in, it’s getting a guy ready to take his cock. But Adam can barely remember his name, the way Kris is licking at his skin, dragging his hands all over Adam’s chest, only to follow the faint lines with scraping teeth.
And he doesn’t let up on the filth, either. “This. This was further than my friends wanted to go, you know? Woulda - fuck, there - woulda made ‘em gay, for real. But I knew. Doesn’t - doesn’t matter. Not when it feels so good.”
The last bit of Kris’s speech is drawn out, vowels elongated into a moan. Adam can’t help but smirk, just the tiniest bit, vindicated. It’s not that Adam can’t hand over the reigns, but Kris is so beautiful like this: wanton and desperate, stretched hot around three of Adam’s fingers. He rubs his thumb down the crease of Kris’s ass, loving how Kris automatically bucks forward, his cock smearing wet between their stomachs.
“Gonna put it to you so good, baby,” Adam purrs, and Kris thrusts his hips back, trying to get off from just this, from Adam’s fingers inside of him. “Look at your greedy little hole sucking at me so bad. So desperate for it.”
“Ready. C’mon. Adam,” Kris whines. Adam can’t take much more himself, and he pulls his fingers out, slow, loving the way Kris groans at the loss and rubs himself back along the shaft of Adam’s dick.
But Kris started this, and if it's teasing he wants, well. Adam can play along. He's willing to hold out just a little longer.
“This is your game, Kris. Tell me more. How’d you ever deal if no one would give you this? Did you do it yourself? Find Katy’s vibrator and shove it inside?”
“Oh, God,” Kris groans. He’s shaking beneath Adam’s hands, every muscle tight. Sweat beads on his forehead and Adam tracks a single drop as it slides down Kris’s temple, his cheek, beads and hangs at the tip of his chin. Adam leans in and catches it on his tongue.
“Tell me,” he insists, his lashes fluttering against Kris’s skin. He places gentle kisses under Kris’s jaw, skin jumping beneath Adam’s lips when Kris finally finds words.
“I did,” and Adam rewards Kris’s admission with a slight tilt of his hips. The head of his cock snags on Kris's asshole, so slick with lube, so open from Adam's fingers, and Kris moans when Adam slides back away. “Adam, please.”
“What else? Hmm? Did you beg your friends to let you suck their cocks? I bet you did, bet you convinced them there was nothing wrong with that.”
Adam leans in, letting his breath fall over Kris’s nipple, watching the flesh pebble when he darts his tongue out to lick. He nips, quick and sharp with his teeth, and angles his face towards Kris. “Well?”
“They - fuck, Adam - they didn’t mind. They just thought I was, I -“
Kris falters here, for the first time, and Adam feels him tremble beneath his lips. He hadn’t intended to make Kris uncomfortable. “Hey. You don’t have to tell me if - “
Kris steels himself, his fingers tightening on Adam’s shoulders. “No, it’s ok, I just. Needy, they thought I was just needy is all. I convinced them that it was all me, that they were just being really good friends by letting me.”
Adam wants to laugh. Only Kris would think he had to persuade guys to let him suck them off.
“No wonder you have so many friends,” Adam jokes, and drags his hands over Kris’s ass, parting his cheeks and rutting up between. “I’m sure it was such a hardship for them.”
“We bonded,” Kris says. His lips quirk and he relaxes slightly back into Adam’s touch, trusting completely. It’s a blessing that no one ever took advantage of that sweet nature, Adam knows, because he can’t even imagine Kris being hurt. He can’t imagine Kris putting up walls.
“I like you needy,” Adam murmurs, and cants his hips forward. He spreads his palms across the back of Kris’s thighs, holding him open, heat so close to the head of Adam’s cock. “It works on you.”
Kris moans, hands clutched tight on Adam's shoulder, and stares at Adam, eyes bright and pleading. It hits Adam then: there’s more too it, more that Kris wants to tell him. More that he needs to get off his chest and it’s up to Adam to get him past whatever is holding him back.
“You keep saying they, Kris. Just how many guys were there?“ Kris shuts his eyes, tight, and worries his lip between his teeth. It takes Adam butting his forehead against Kris’s chin to get him to open them again, half-mast, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as they color under the weight of what Kris has to say. “Tell me,” Adam whispers.
Kris swallows hard and shivers. “Five. I. One night, I convinced all of them to, I - “
“Oh my god, you can not be for real,” Adam breathes, and tugs Kris down onto his cock.
The pressure is incredible. No matter how many times they do this, it will never cease to amaze Adam, the way Kris's body slots perfectly against his own, hips to ass to thighs. Kris’s admission buzzes in Adam’s ears, but Kris melts in his arms; his taste sits heavy on Adam’s tongue, Kris’s mouth open and wide for Adam alone.
Kris is his, right now and maybe even forever. Kris’s fingertips on Adam’s skin are a solid reminder, but the thought of Kris with those other guys, letting them use him, wanting them to - Adam bites down on Kris’s lower lip, sucking it hard between his teeth when Kris whimpers.
Kris bends when Adam shifts and thrusts up, hard, his hands flexing on Kris’s hips and leaving the bruises Adam had wanted to mark him with from the start. His spine arches inward, Kris’s head thrown back, his whole body pliant, flexible, tight around Adam’s cock, and it strikes Adam that maybe he just hadn't let himself see what had been there all along. Kris always bent to everyone else's will just as easily as his body does now; he swayed with the group's ever changing moods, Adam's above all.
It's addicting, knowing that Adam has power like that, that Kris would do whatever Adam asks of him. One day, Adam will test it out, push Kris to his limits. Tie him up and make him beg and cry out -
But not now. Now Adam doesn't have to do a damn thing. The greater truth is that Adam will never have to make Kris do anything. Kris wants and he takes, shameless and open.
Kris wiggles beautifully on Adam’s cock, knees pressed tight around his hips. Adam can barely hold back at the sight of him, flush creeping down his neck, muscles tight and strained. Kris’s mouth is bitten red, wet and open as he pants, as he lifts himself up and falls slippery back down Adam’s dick. Adam throws his head back and clenches his fingers even tighter onto Kris’s hips, his entire body spiking with heat and pleasure.
Through the haze, Adam can hear Kris rambling on still, and he slams his hips up as much as the soft cushioning beneath him will allow, determined to drive Kris to incoherency.
“Never - never like this,” Kris is chanting. The muscles of his arms strain as he leans against the chair and rocks his body. Adam slides his fingers down the contour of Kris’s back, his fingers slicking through the sweat that drips between his shoulder blades. When he reaches the base of Kris’s spine, Kris gasps, clenching down almost painfully on Adam’s cock.
“Yeah?” Adam says, not really a question, and slides his fingers lower, tracing the stretched skin where his dick presses into Kris; where Kris is fucking himself into oblivion. Adam teases at Kris’s hole, and when he feels Kris begin to relax once more, he slides two fingers in along with his cock.
Kris's reaction is instant. "Ah-Adam," he chokes out, throwing his head back, his whole body shivering. He clenches against Adam's cock, his fingers, and Adam bites his own lip hard enough to taste blood, metallic and sharp on his tongue. Kris cries out once more, body bucking wildly, and fumbles for his dick, pumping through his fist frantically.
"C'mon, just a little more," Adam groans, overwhelmed. Kris's thighs slap against Adam's, solid, dirty noise cracking through the room and Kris cries out when Adam slips his thumb over the slick head of his cock where it peeks out from his fist.
Adam doesn’t know what pushed Kris to do this tonight, to come clean, to spill his secrets and lay himself bare, but Adam knows how much it takes to do so. He leans in to taste the salt of Kris's skin, laying his claim with hands and teeth, and Kris loses it, locking up tight and coming undone. Adam barely registers the hot splash of Kris's come across his knuckles, between their stomachs, but he feels the way Kris's hole tightens around him, the way his knees squeeze against Adam's sides strong enough to steal his breath.
Adam worries the same spot on Kris's neck with his mouth, then gasps, teeth scraping along skin as he thrusts and feels his own orgasm spiral out. Sparks dance in the blackness behind his lids, Kris's body warm around him, thrusts slippery now with come.
They stay huddled together, Adam too boneless to move, Kris apparently just as reluctant. It's gonna be almost impossible to clean up after this, but when Adam slips his fingers out and wipes them, sticky, along Kris's skin, he doesn't really care about anything but right now.
"So," Kris says. His breath feathers hot against Adam's shoulder and Kris follows with a press of his mouth, open and gasping. He tilts his face up, beautifully vulnerable and open. "You, uh. You really think I should ditch this thing?"
It’s not really what he’s asking. Adam sees the question in his eyes, is it all ok?; hears the hitch in his voice, does this change how you feel? Adam knows these questions because he’s asked them of his boyfriends before, explained away his past with baited breath.
Kris has never asked him to.
Adam runs his fingers through the sweat spiked hair that tickles against his chin and relaxes back. "Do you," he starts, then pauses, trying to find the right words. The chair itself is disgusting, especially now, stench of sweat and sex worked into the fabric, but there’s more at stake than a piece of furniture. “It’s part of your history, you know? I get that.”
“I’ve had it since I first moved out,” Kris admits. He runs his fingers along the chair’s arm, absentmindedly. “I dunno, it just. It felt wrong to throw it away.”
Adam tilts his head back and Kris tucks himself even tighter under Adam’s arm, if that’s possible. He always seems to find a way.
“Yeah,” Adam says, and lets his eyes slip shut, one of Kris’s hands curled around the armrest, the other flat over Adam’s heart, “The chair stays."