FIC: Sugar and Spice (AI RPF, Adam/Kris, NC-17)
Happy first day of Toronto Pride Week! Astroglide is on sale at Shoppers Drug Mart for 99 cents! (No, really, it is.)
And speaking of gay sex, I definitely did not expect the first Adam/Kris story I posted to be knifeplay, but apparently that's just the way kink bingo rolls. Fluffy, domestic knifeplay, but still.
Disclaimer: No disrespect intended to any of the persons depicted herein, who I hope are all living happy and fulfilled lives with their partner(s) of choice. This is purely fictional.
Sugar and Spice
American Idol RPF. NC-17. Adam/Kris. 1700 words.
Written for kink bingo. Warnings: knifeplay; very minor bloodplay; open marriage
It's an Adam weekend, his first in a month, and Kris is just glad there are no professional obligations pulling either of them away for once. That isn't what they actually call it, of course - to anyone outside the Allen household Kris is 'working in LA' for the next few days - but Kris left his guitar in Conway and Katy made him promise to kiss Adam for her and this weekend has nothing to do with work.
It's a complicated arrangement, make no mistake, but frankly they're all pretty happy and somehow they make it work. Kris figures that probably means it really is something that's part of God's plan for his life.
"You need to cut those smaller," says Adam, placing another shot of tequila right on the cutting board in front of him. "But first? You need to drink this."
Kris grins and shakes his head at the shot. "Is it really going to ruin the curry if the ginger isn't minced into perfect little symmetrical pieces?"
"Yes," says Adam, "but I promise the shot will help."
"More than the two that came before it?" says Kris, licking at the corner of his mouth. "You know I don't drink that much."
"That's part of the fun of it," says Adam, but when Kris doesn't pick up the shot he takes it back himself. "Fine, your loss, but I'm not letting this go to waste. Tilt your head a little further, would you?"
"Hm?" says Kris, but he instinctively trusts Adam's voice and does exactly as he asks, tilting his head to the left even as he makes another pass at the ginger. "Why?"
"Body shots," says Adam, and licks a stripe up his neck.
Kris shivers, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, his skin prickling. It's just a moment, a breath, of inattention and the knife is biting into the tip of his finger. The sharp sting and throb of blood mingle with the heat from Adam's tongue to make him hard in what feels like only moments.
It doesn't go unnoticed.
Adam gently takes the knife from his hand, brings Kris's finger up to his mouth and Kris hisses at the tequila sting of Adam's lips and tongue, even as his eyes follow the knife in Adam's hand. The blade just brushes against his wrist and Kris exhales in a rush, leaves his hand right where it is in case the touch might come again and presses himself hard against the edge of the counter.
This does not go unnoticed either.
"Kris?" says Adam softly, uncertainly, lips right against his ear. He's still holding Kris's other hand, the blood at the tip of Kris's finger smeared from his lips.
Kris bites his lip and doesn't know how to answer, doesn't know how to explain. Doesn't even understand why he's suddenly aching for it when moments ago he'd been focused on dinner, the smell of onions and cumin and the sound of cupboard doors opening and closing as Adam searched for the curry powder. Now it's like none of that even exists, or ever did.
Slowly, painfully slowly, Adam drags the tip of the knife over Kris's forearm, just barely a scratch. Kris shivers and closes his eyes.
"Turn off the stove," he says, and is surprised by how rough, how needy, his voice has already become.
"Congratulations," murmurs Adam, still so close. "You've finally found something I've never done before."
Kris's eyes are still closed, but even as he's focused on the sting on his arm, the throb in his cock, he can hear everything Adam does, hear the click of the stove dial, the swish of the blinds as he closes them, the scrape of spice jars and plastic containers as Adam slides them down the counter, out of the way. He turns just enough to press his backside to the counter and grips it with both hands, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
"How much do you like this shirt?"
Kris blinks his eyes open and sees Adam with the knife poised at the top button, tip just beneath it. "I have two more just like it," Kris breathes, and can't look away as Adam flicks the button off with just a turn of his wrist.
The rest go one by one until his shirt is hanging wide open, then Adam drags the tip of the knife down his breastbone, curving to the side to circle one of Kris's nipples. He doesn't draw blood, but then Kris doesn't want him to; it's the idea that he might that makes his nerves fire, makes his blood pump harder, makes him almost impossibly hard. He lets out a helpless moan and reaches out to tangle his fingers in Adam's shirt.
"Wow," murmurs Adam, moving the knife to the side and letting himself be pulled closer. His thigh is suddenly pressing up against Kris's aching cock and there is genuine surprise in his expression.
"I don't--" Kris starts, flushed with arousal and faint shame, but Adam doesn't let him go there. He never has.
"You've got nothing to be embarrassed about," he says, leaning in closer still and sinking his teeth lightly into Kris's earlobe for a moment. "Sometimes things just get us going and we don't even know why. Go with it."
Kris might've protested but then Adam kisses him, kisses him with all the same tenderness as the first time they ever did it, and Kris gives in.
"Again?" he murmurs, glad his face is mostly hidden, and shivers as Adam uses the knife to gently push the fabric off Kris's shoulders till the shirt slips right to the counter top and then, as Kris moves his hips just far enough to untrap it, to the kitchen floor. He can't stop watching, the way the light glints off the edge of the knife, the way it gets so close to his skin without ever - quite - touching. Adam could do anything with it - anything - and the idea alone makes his breath hitch.
The blade touches skin again just below his scar, then below his navel, skimming through the trail of hair that leads into his jeans. It's sharp enough that it slices a few in half, leaving them loose in its wake.
"You need to...." he starts, but if there's one thing Adam's never needed to be told, it's how to get into Kris's pants.
"Getting there," says Adam, unbuttoning him with a practiced press of his thumb. Then he drops to his knees and uses the tip of the knife to pull the zipper down.
Kris nearly comes in his pants.
"Adam...." he says, breathless, and he doesn't know how to ask for what he wants, or what that even is. But Adam just looks up at him with dark, mischievous eyes and tugs Kris's jeans down to mid-thigh.
"It's okay," he says, and drags the knife down the front of Kris's thigh as he swallows him down.
Kris chokes on his breath and tries to think unsexy thoughts, but he's looking down at the point of the knife just barely pressing into his skin, at Adam's lips sliding down his cock, swallowing him deeper, and there's nothing unsexy in his whole world.
He knows he can't move, not even a little, but that just makes it hotter. He sucks in breath after shuddering breath and twists a hand in Adam's hair and barely keeps from coming when Adam's tongue traces against his cock and the knife skims the crease between his leg and his abdomen, coming perilously close to his groin.
"Adam... Adam...." he says, and it's just barely in time before the tip of the knife twists against his sensitive skin and he comes down Adam's throat in a sudden rush that leaves him shaking and breathless.
Adam lets the knife fall to the floor when he stands up, and Kris has a hand down his pants before Adam can even wipe his mouth, his lips glossy and swollen. Kris is just glad these pants aren't skin tight, and wraps his fingers around Adam's cock, tugging rhythmically with each of his own halting breaths.
"Kris... fuck... Kris...." says Adam and barely manages to get his own pants open, his own shirt pushed up and out of the way, before Kris brings him off with ragged enthusiasm. His fingers are sticky with it and he doesn't care, smearing them down Adam's stomach, caressing his balls, then leaving his hand cupped there as he leans in and finally kisses him again.
If feels like they're kissing a very long time before Kris finally pulls away, glad the kitchen counter is still holding them both upright. The full impact of what they just did doesn't hit him until the brain-fuzzing effects of orgasm finally pass.
"Oh God," he says softly, not quite meeting Adam's eyes as he finally pulls his hand away. "Adam, I. That was--"
"Unexpected," finishes Adam, leaning in to nuzzle his ear again. "And fun. Don't you think?"
Kris lets out a nervous laugh and presses his forehead to Adam's shoulder, wiping his fingers on his jeans as he begins to pull them up. Not the words he would have chosen, but welcome all the same.
"You're not weirded out?" he says.
"Nah," says Adam, curling his fingers around Kris's wrist to stop his progress. "If you're into that, it's fine with me."
"I don't even know what I'm into," says Kris. "Apparently. I guess it's like you said when we first... when things started changing. You never stop figuring yourself out."
"Exactly," says Adam, pulling Kris's hand to his mouth and sucking off each of his fingers, one by one. Then he lays Kris's hand against his cheek and leans in to kiss him once again. "And now that we know, maybe we can even plan it a little better next time."
"Next time?" says Kris, swallowing hard.
"Mm-hm," murmurs Adam contentedly. "I can't wait to find out what you figure out next."
And speaking of gay sex, I definitely did not expect the first Adam/Kris story I posted to be knifeplay, but apparently that's just the way kink bingo rolls. Fluffy, domestic knifeplay, but still.
Disclaimer: No disrespect intended to any of the persons depicted herein, who I hope are all living happy and fulfilled lives with their partner(s) of choice. This is purely fictional.
Sugar and Spice
American Idol RPF. NC-17. Adam/Kris. 1700 words.
Written for kink bingo. Warnings: knifeplay; very minor bloodplay; open marriage
It's an Adam weekend, his first in a month, and Kris is just glad there are no professional obligations pulling either of them away for once. That isn't what they actually call it, of course - to anyone outside the Allen household Kris is 'working in LA' for the next few days - but Kris left his guitar in Conway and Katy made him promise to kiss Adam for her and this weekend has nothing to do with work.
It's a complicated arrangement, make no mistake, but frankly they're all pretty happy and somehow they make it work. Kris figures that probably means it really is something that's part of God's plan for his life.
"You need to cut those smaller," says Adam, placing another shot of tequila right on the cutting board in front of him. "But first? You need to drink this."
Kris grins and shakes his head at the shot. "Is it really going to ruin the curry if the ginger isn't minced into perfect little symmetrical pieces?"
"Yes," says Adam, "but I promise the shot will help."
"More than the two that came before it?" says Kris, licking at the corner of his mouth. "You know I don't drink that much."
"That's part of the fun of it," says Adam, but when Kris doesn't pick up the shot he takes it back himself. "Fine, your loss, but I'm not letting this go to waste. Tilt your head a little further, would you?"
"Hm?" says Kris, but he instinctively trusts Adam's voice and does exactly as he asks, tilting his head to the left even as he makes another pass at the ginger. "Why?"
"Body shots," says Adam, and licks a stripe up his neck.
Kris shivers, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, his skin prickling. It's just a moment, a breath, of inattention and the knife is biting into the tip of his finger. The sharp sting and throb of blood mingle with the heat from Adam's tongue to make him hard in what feels like only moments.
It doesn't go unnoticed.
Adam gently takes the knife from his hand, brings Kris's finger up to his mouth and Kris hisses at the tequila sting of Adam's lips and tongue, even as his eyes follow the knife in Adam's hand. The blade just brushes against his wrist and Kris exhales in a rush, leaves his hand right where it is in case the touch might come again and presses himself hard against the edge of the counter.
This does not go unnoticed either.
"Kris?" says Adam softly, uncertainly, lips right against his ear. He's still holding Kris's other hand, the blood at the tip of Kris's finger smeared from his lips.
Kris bites his lip and doesn't know how to answer, doesn't know how to explain. Doesn't even understand why he's suddenly aching for it when moments ago he'd been focused on dinner, the smell of onions and cumin and the sound of cupboard doors opening and closing as Adam searched for the curry powder. Now it's like none of that even exists, or ever did.
Slowly, painfully slowly, Adam drags the tip of the knife over Kris's forearm, just barely a scratch. Kris shivers and closes his eyes.
"Turn off the stove," he says, and is surprised by how rough, how needy, his voice has already become.
"Congratulations," murmurs Adam, still so close. "You've finally found something I've never done before."
Kris's eyes are still closed, but even as he's focused on the sting on his arm, the throb in his cock, he can hear everything Adam does, hear the click of the stove dial, the swish of the blinds as he closes them, the scrape of spice jars and plastic containers as Adam slides them down the counter, out of the way. He turns just enough to press his backside to the counter and grips it with both hands, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
"How much do you like this shirt?"
Kris blinks his eyes open and sees Adam with the knife poised at the top button, tip just beneath it. "I have two more just like it," Kris breathes, and can't look away as Adam flicks the button off with just a turn of his wrist.
The rest go one by one until his shirt is hanging wide open, then Adam drags the tip of the knife down his breastbone, curving to the side to circle one of Kris's nipples. He doesn't draw blood, but then Kris doesn't want him to; it's the idea that he might that makes his nerves fire, makes his blood pump harder, makes him almost impossibly hard. He lets out a helpless moan and reaches out to tangle his fingers in Adam's shirt.
"Wow," murmurs Adam, moving the knife to the side and letting himself be pulled closer. His thigh is suddenly pressing up against Kris's aching cock and there is genuine surprise in his expression.
"I don't--" Kris starts, flushed with arousal and faint shame, but Adam doesn't let him go there. He never has.
"You've got nothing to be embarrassed about," he says, leaning in closer still and sinking his teeth lightly into Kris's earlobe for a moment. "Sometimes things just get us going and we don't even know why. Go with it."
Kris might've protested but then Adam kisses him, kisses him with all the same tenderness as the first time they ever did it, and Kris gives in.
"Again?" he murmurs, glad his face is mostly hidden, and shivers as Adam uses the knife to gently push the fabric off Kris's shoulders till the shirt slips right to the counter top and then, as Kris moves his hips just far enough to untrap it, to the kitchen floor. He can't stop watching, the way the light glints off the edge of the knife, the way it gets so close to his skin without ever - quite - touching. Adam could do anything with it - anything - and the idea alone makes his breath hitch.
The blade touches skin again just below his scar, then below his navel, skimming through the trail of hair that leads into his jeans. It's sharp enough that it slices a few in half, leaving them loose in its wake.
"You need to...." he starts, but if there's one thing Adam's never needed to be told, it's how to get into Kris's pants.
"Getting there," says Adam, unbuttoning him with a practiced press of his thumb. Then he drops to his knees and uses the tip of the knife to pull the zipper down.
Kris nearly comes in his pants.
"Adam...." he says, breathless, and he doesn't know how to ask for what he wants, or what that even is. But Adam just looks up at him with dark, mischievous eyes and tugs Kris's jeans down to mid-thigh.
"It's okay," he says, and drags the knife down the front of Kris's thigh as he swallows him down.
Kris chokes on his breath and tries to think unsexy thoughts, but he's looking down at the point of the knife just barely pressing into his skin, at Adam's lips sliding down his cock, swallowing him deeper, and there's nothing unsexy in his whole world.
He knows he can't move, not even a little, but that just makes it hotter. He sucks in breath after shuddering breath and twists a hand in Adam's hair and barely keeps from coming when Adam's tongue traces against his cock and the knife skims the crease between his leg and his abdomen, coming perilously close to his groin.
"Adam... Adam...." he says, and it's just barely in time before the tip of the knife twists against his sensitive skin and he comes down Adam's throat in a sudden rush that leaves him shaking and breathless.
Adam lets the knife fall to the floor when he stands up, and Kris has a hand down his pants before Adam can even wipe his mouth, his lips glossy and swollen. Kris is just glad these pants aren't skin tight, and wraps his fingers around Adam's cock, tugging rhythmically with each of his own halting breaths.
"Kris... fuck... Kris...." says Adam and barely manages to get his own pants open, his own shirt pushed up and out of the way, before Kris brings him off with ragged enthusiasm. His fingers are sticky with it and he doesn't care, smearing them down Adam's stomach, caressing his balls, then leaving his hand cupped there as he leans in and finally kisses him again.
If feels like they're kissing a very long time before Kris finally pulls away, glad the kitchen counter is still holding them both upright. The full impact of what they just did doesn't hit him until the brain-fuzzing effects of orgasm finally pass.
"Oh God," he says softly, not quite meeting Adam's eyes as he finally pulls his hand away. "Adam, I. That was--"
"Unexpected," finishes Adam, leaning in to nuzzle his ear again. "And fun. Don't you think?"
Kris lets out a nervous laugh and presses his forehead to Adam's shoulder, wiping his fingers on his jeans as he begins to pull them up. Not the words he would have chosen, but welcome all the same.
"You're not weirded out?" he says.
"Nah," says Adam, curling his fingers around Kris's wrist to stop his progress. "If you're into that, it's fine with me."
"I don't even know what I'm into," says Kris. "Apparently. I guess it's like you said when we first... when things started changing. You never stop figuring yourself out."
"Exactly," says Adam, pulling Kris's hand to his mouth and sucking off each of his fingers, one by one. Then he lays Kris's hand against his cheek and leans in to kiss him once again. "And now that we know, maybe we can even plan it a little better next time."
"Next time?" says Kris, swallowing hard.
"Mm-hm," murmurs Adam contentedly. "I can't wait to find out what you figure out next."