Falling Slowly, Sing Your Melody
Title: Falling Slowly, Sing Your Melody
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Author: forbiddenromanc
Rating: PG-13
Words:
Summary: Kris sang in front of thousands of people every week, but in the wee hours, in the barely lit room -- singing just for Adam --he feels nervous. It feels weird, intimate.
Disclaimer: I don't own these people, they own themselves. Written for my own enjoyment, basically. =)
"I don't know you, but I want you all the more for that. Words fall through me, and always fool me -- and I can't react."
Kris' gentle voice fills the room, empty except for himself and Adam, fingers gliding across the cool piano keys. There is no clock in the room, but Kris would guess it's about to be Tuesday. 'Songs From The Cinema' week.
Kris sang in front of thousands of people every week, but in the wee hours, in the barely lit room -- singing just for Adam --he feels nervous. It feels weird, intimate.
Adam was leaning against the wall, and then wasn't. His fingers flutter along his knobs in Kris' back, hot through the fabric of his shirt, warmth spreading like fire up his spine.
It makes him feel more than a little light-headed and he forgets the words. The feather-light touch falters with his voice, before settling on his hip, just under the shirt. The sudden heat of Adam’s body (tooclosetoofar) covers him like a blanket, and it makes him feel safer than he’d be willing to admit. He stands, feeling too much of everything to sit still.
Kris has to swallow a few times before he finds his voice, “Adam?” He squeaks.
Warm breathe ghosts by his ear, and his shudder presses his hips back into Adam’s. He could hear his sharp, quiet exhale, hears him swallow thickly. Fingers scratch the base of his skull, soothingly, but it did nothing but. “Yeah?”
“I--,” Adam rocks against him, breath decidedly heavier. The world goes a little white. “Did you like it?” He twists his head around to look at him, his whole body shifting a little. His intake of breath seems to echo off the walls, as both of Adam’s hand grip his waist, fingers splayed far apart, nails biting, sure to leave a (his) mark.
There is little blue left in Adam’s eyes, and what is left looks like the sky after a thunderstorm. Adam smirks, saying nothing, just letting his eyes wander. Kris finds himself manhandled into the side of the piano before he can think -- anything. He flushes, deep magenta -- Adam is hard against his hip, hot through two layers of denim. His body involuntarily seeks out more contact, friction making him dizzier.
Kris feels a little high, feeling too many things at once, but when Adam traces his jaw with the back of his hand and kisses him long, and slow, he can’t seem to care. His mouth opens from him, before he asks for it, wanting too much. Adam isn’t shy about what he wants, kisses him deeper, slower. Dirtier. His fingers run along the fold of denim covering Kris’ zipper, pressure too light.
"What are you --" His lips brushes Adam's as he speaks, and he has to fight his desire to dive back into that mouth.
Adam grinned, sin in his smile, still saying nothing -- and Kris breaks,
He traces the freckles on Adam’s lips with his tongue, licking into his mouth. (Kris always liked connect the dots.) He rolls his hips up, never as smoothly as Adam does, desperate for any sort of friction. Kris feels, more then hears groan that traps itself in Adam’s chest.
Kris pulls away, grins. “So, I guess you liked it.”