Making Good
Title: Making Good
Pairing: Kradam
Word Count: 2,767
Rating: NC-17. Look, even that seems light. NC-25. Really, no one should read this.
Summary: Denied by Adam, Kris has gone looking for all the right things in all the wrong places. Katy begs Adam to intervene, and Adam goes against his better judgment by taking carte blanche to a whole new level.
Warnings: Prostitution, Reference to Dug Use, Alcohol Use, Profanity, Light Domination but Nothing That Crazy
Disclaimer: Lies for a good cause.
A/N: Written in part for
murderaidx who requested "Kris being really drunk , lost somewhere Adam is worried.... if that makes sense but I keep getting this mental image of him in briefs and a buttoned down plaid shirt straddling him on the coach, sofa, w/e whispering dirty things to Adam , telling him all this stuff he wants Adam to do to him. :] while Adam tries to resist and keep himself from taking advantage of poor drunk Kris but fails to do so, and from there you can write all the hot sex after that."
and also for
blaqkaudio who wanted "filthy dirty fingering." This prompt was seconded by windandcoffee and vaguelycoherent for the Dollar Donation Thing, and I am a total whore for charity. Pay up, benches. This got WAY more angsty than I envisioned but who am I to argue with Adam? He's skurry when he's angry.
Unbetad and written in a hot sweaty minute.
Devilstone readers, I promise this is the last non-Devilstone fic I will post before the last chapters. If it's any consolation I might need to bump my chapter count to 13. We'll see. I apparently am in a mood.
They are only in LA for a month before it happens. Katy’s voice on the phone, desperate, and I’m saying all the right things.
“I’ll find him.”
“No, I am sure he didn’t go there.”
“No, Katy, he never tried anything with me, I swear. He’s just going through a phase.”
She tells me she wishes he had tried it with me. At least it would be someone he loved. At least he’d be safe. She’s hysterical and I’m driving, trying to get down to WeHo as fast as I can and talk Katy off the ledge at the same time.
“I’ll bring him home tomorrow. I promise.”
She tells me thank you, she tells me she loves me, and she tells me it’s ok - whatever happens is ok. I pretend not to know what she means. She probably doesn’t even know what she means.
I pull up in front of the shadiest gay bar I can find, the one Katy told me Kris had been going to. She followed him, once, but couldn’t follow him in. It’s my fault, I think. I lied to Katy. He did try something with me, in New York. Thinking of her, I pushed him back. Thinking of Drake, I told him no though it broke my heart to do it. So instead of experimenting with me, instead of letting my heart have its way, Kris Allen has been sleazing it up with fuck-knows who.
I burst through the door and if anyone is surprised to see me, no one shows it. Maybe these coked-up assholes are too far gone to recognize me. Thank God. If they don’t recognize me they certainly won’t recognize Kris. I make my way back into the bathroom, hoping beyond hope he’s there, and sure enough I see a familiar pair of ratted-up converse sneakers facing sideways in one of the stall doors. There’s someone in there with him, I can see his knees and I feel a surge of white-hot jealousy in my stomach.
You bastard. You absolute bastard. You have a wife, you have me. But you told him no.
I’m railing at him and myself alternately in my mind, things I’d never say aloud, as I listen to the proceedings.
“Yeah, Adam. Like that.”
Kris is saying my name. I don’t know if that’s the guy’s name or if this is something Kris is paying him to do. I don’t give a fuck, it makes me sick. I’m about to bust the door down when I hear Kris’s terrified squeak.
“Adam?”
I know this isn’t part of his game. He can see me through the crack in the door, or recognizes my footwear or cologne or maybe he can just read my mind after all our time together.
“Tell your friend this is over, or I’m going to tell him with my fist.”
“This isn’t any of your business.” Kris’s protest is hollow; his desperation for my approval is stronger than his lust for the man on his knees.
“I’m making it my business.”
The man gets up, mumbling an apology through the door and asking if he can leave. I step aside and he bolts without looking at me. I look at him, though, and I see why Kris chose him. He’s tall, with dyed black hair and outlandish fashion sense. A look I’ve seen on far too many WeHo poseurs lately.
He’s standing there, stupidly pushing his cock back into his pants, looking pissed, sheepish, and a little like he wants to cry. He doesn’t move, not even when I cross the few feet between us and pull him into a hug. He lets me hold him, crushing his arms to his sides. I pull back finally and he’s looking hard into my eyes. His pupils are huge; he’s drunk and probably high. He’s terrified.
“Let’s go home.” I say gently and his tough mask dissolves.
“Don’t make me. I can’t face her. You knowing makes it real.” He whispers.
“She knows where you are. You don’t give her enough credit. But I’m not taking you to your home. You’re in no shape and honestly, Kris. I’m afraid of what you’d say. You’re coming home with me.”
He’s in my arms, holding me this time, and he’s mumbling “thank you” into my neck, the word almost soundless against my skin.
***
I pass him the bottle of whiskey, knowing it’s his favorite and he’s sobered up a bit on the ride home. That’s not how I want him. I need him to talk to me, and in vino veritas. Kris has never lied to me, but he’s omitted a hell of a lot. It’s not even ten pm and I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. He’s laying in my lap, snuggling the bottle like a small child would cuddle with a blankie and I’m holding his hand, his unhappy confessor.
“I started two weeks ago. I just drove around, looking for the shittiest place I could find.”
“Oh, that’s safe.” I chide him.
“I didn’t touch them. Didn’t … didn’t have sex.”
“Then what did you do? Pay them for conversation?” I’m aware that I’m being cruel, but the idea of this is making my flesh crawl and my conscience boil. He was desperate, and I had told him no. He was desperate for me and I had sent him packing. I might as well have dropped him off at that club. Fuck, this is all my fault.
“I paid him to blow me. Twice a week.” Kris’s voice is small, and after that admission he sucks another long drink from the bottle.
“Did you pay him extra to call him Adam?”
“He told me that was his name.” Kris says, blinking. “You think he was lying?” The thought was honestly occurring to him for the first time. Bad news. If the dude knew who I was, he knew who Kris was.
“Yes. I think he was lying. I also think the tabloids are going to have a field day.”
“No one will believe him. There weren’t any pictures.” Kris mumbles, uncertain.
“Not that you know of. But someone could have been in a booth, in the next stall. Fuck, Kris.”
“I had to know. I needed to know. Please don’t hate me.” My anger breaks - I can never stay mad at him - and I squeeze his hand.
“I could never hate you. You know that. That’s all you need to know.” He shakes his head at my words.
“I need to know what it feels like. I keep trying to imagine it, imagine you. I need to know and you won’t show me. Why won’t you show me?” He sits up abruptly, the bottle of whisky falling from his lap and onto the floor with a thud. “You don’t want me.” Kris says as if this insight explains everything. “You were kidding about the crush. You were making fun of me.”
“Kris I was not. Don’t be stupid.”
“Then tell me.” He stands up and turns towards me, anger and fear in his eyes. “Tell me you want me.” I can’t. I can’t say it, not if I want to retain the fragile hold I had on my sanity.
“Kris.” I start, but the look on my face gives it away.
“I knew it. You were fucking joking. I bet you and Drake had a good laugh. I bet the whole world thought it was funny. Why would someone like you want someone like me? You can have anyone. You don’t want me, you never wanted me. Fuck.” He stammers, eyes wide at his profanity. “Fuck you, Adam Lambert.”
“Kristopher Allen, stop shouting at me this fucking instant.” I reach out and grab both his wrists before they can swing the angry punches I can see just beginning to form.
“Tell me.” He begs. “Just tell me.” The look on his face was so desperate and wounded that I can’t help myself any longer.
“There’s nothing I want more than you.” I whisper, looking up into his eyes. I bring one of his hands to my mouth and kiss it softly, listening to him gasp. “No one. Nothing.” I let him pull his hands away and regret it instantly. He's out of his jeans in a flash, his blue briefs contrasting with his red and white plaid shirt. Fuck, he looks like Mr. July in some crappy pin-up calender. All he's missing is a bale of hay and a strategically placed garden hoe.
“Kris, we can’t.” I beg, but he straddles me anyways, hands gripping my shoulders.
“Show me.” He begs right back. “I’m not gonna stop. If I can’t get it from you I’ll find someone who can.”
“That’s not fair. Kris you’re not being fair.” My hands are pressed into the couch and I'm determined not to touch him.
“Neither are you. I was fine before I met you. I was normal. Fuck, Adam, I am done playing fair.”
“Don’t put this on me. I didn’t turn you. You’re not going to guilt me into this.”
“I will if it will work.” Kris is hard, and I haven’t even touched him yet. Yet. I can feel myself giving in. Kris was willing to risk everything and I ccan't pretend I wasn’t turned on by it. I’m not a sadist, but I’m sadistic enough. “I can’t take it any longer. Please, Adam.” He breathed the hard words into my ear and I'm gone.
“You little fucker. “ I brought my hands up to the soft cotton that covered his ass. He gave a surprised yelp and wriggled a little, breath hitching hot as I squeezed. “Is this what you want.”
“I want everything.” He groans, pushing his hard on against my chest. He;'s desperate for contact and I'm desperate to give it to him.
“Tell me. Tell me what you want. What were you trying to find in another man’s mouth?”I ask, rubbing gently.
“I’m sorry.” He whimpers. “I was thinking of you the whole time.”
“I know you were.” I purr, sliding my fingertips just beneath his briefs and stroking the soft flesh beneath. “Tell me what you were looking for. I want to hear it from you - how can I make this better? How can I keep you from being so fucking stupid every again? You wanted me. You’ve got me. Now start talking.
“I want to kiss you.” He starts, and moves to do so but I turn my head and tell him to keep talking. He wasn’t getting off that easy. “I want your tongue in my mouth; I want my lips between your teeth.” He whispers into my ear, and as hot as that is -
“Louder.” I commanded, enjoying the gradual blush that swept over his features.
“I want your hands inside me. Your fingers. God.” He pulls one of my hands off his ass and into his mouth. Stunned, I let him. He sucks on my right pointer finger, swirling his tongue over it and letting his slick spit run down my hand. It's too good of an invitation to pass up. Pulling his briefs aside with my free hand I slid the well lubricated finger between his crack and pressed firmly at the tight ring of muscle, which clenches reflexively against my attack.
“I can get lube.” I offer, but he shakes his head.
“I want it to hurt.” His voice soft again. “I think I deserve it, don’t you?”
Fuck.
My cock is stiff against and pressed hard against my jeans, but I have other matters at hand, quite literally.
“Then let me in.” My voice was as forceful as I could muster and I felt him relax, biting his lower lip as the pain took over. “Come on, baby. Come on.” I soothe him, rubbing his ass with my other hand. He gasps. “That’s my boy.” I say, letting him kiss me finally once my finger is all the way inside his snug hole. He whines when I start to move it, but I deepen the kiss, silencing him with my tongue as I work him open. I pull our mouths apart after a good many thrusts and stick my free hand in his face.
“Lick it.” I shudder as his tongue darts out instantly to coat my palm and fingers, taking his time to suck each one. I fucking can't wait to get my cock in his mouth but there's time enough for that later. Using my damp hand, I moisten my right middle finger and push it in alongside its neighbor. Kris groans loudly.
“Does it hurt?” I ask him, wishing I could keep the hunger out of my voice. He nods, head tilted back and eyes closed in bliss as I invade him. It was too tempting.
I shimmy lower and used my teeth to push the front of his underwear off to the side. Once he saw what I was going to do he was begging me for it, practically praying.
“You filthy slut.” I say, more because he needs to hear it than because I actually believe it. “You want me to suck your dick even though it’s got some fucking prostitute’s slobber all over it? You think you deserve that?” I work my fingers in as deep as they could go, scissoring them back and forth so that my fingertips brush against his deepest spot.
“I don’t.” He manages to say, remorse evident in his voice. “ I don’t deserve it.”
“That’s fucking right you don’t. But I love you, Kristopher. And I want you to know just how much.” He's filthy fucking gorgeous grinding his ass against my hand, head leaking and heavy; mouth slack from desire. He opens his eyes to watch me, crying as I take the head of his cock between my lips. I wait until I have my lips all the way down to the base of his cock before I press a third finger in. He cries out but I keep fucking him with my fingers, spreading them wide at the apex of each thrust. He's salty-sweet all over my tongue and I realize it was far too quiet. I have needs too, and what I need most is his voice.
“What else?” I say, pulling back and whispering the words against his head, a hot rush of my spit running down his cock. “Tell me.”
“Wanna be on my knees for you.” Kris groans as I swallow him down again, feeling his hands tighten in my hair. “Want you to fuck me so hard I scream. I want you to destroy me from the inside.”
I'm panting around his cock, and my jeans are painfully constrictive. I pull my free hand from its position and slide my zipper open. Kris hears and arches his back to be able to reach me. I help him pull my cock free and he grips it as if holding on for dear life. It's downright acrobatic and there's no way we can keep up this angle for very long.
There's no need, though. I press sharply up with all three of my fingers, splaying them as far apart as I can at the same time as I flick my tongue against his head.
“Can I?” He gasps, showing more self restraint than I had given him credit for. I pull my mouth off with a resounding pop.
“Come for me.” I tell him, giving his ass one more hard thrust. Not needing any further invitation - and perhaps my voice was what he really needed in that moment - he shoots all over my open mouth, coating my lips and tongue and cheeks. It's messy heaven, feeling the hot run of him grace my skin as his ass pulses hard against my fingers. Kris leans forward; resting his head against the back of the couch as I slowly pull my fingers out. I wipe my face on his shirt - it's hanging right there - and scoot up to kiss him.
“That what you needed?” I ask after our mouths part. The darkness is gone from his face, replaced by a look of absolute bliss. He actually smiles at me, as though we hadn’t just broken all the laws of God and Man and our own unspoken boundaries.
“Well, that was half of it.” He admits. "But I think I mentioned a few other things." He glances down at my considerable problem, which was jabbing him insistently in the thigh. I look at him, searching for fear or regret and finding nothing. He looks more himself than he has in months. Best of all. his voice is back to normal, even more relaxed than he is normally. His perfect skin is shining, reflecting the light from my floor lamp, and I knew he'd be okay. He looks gorgeous and whatever had prevented me from doing this with him sooner is completely destroyed. I kiss my self control goodbye as I pull his head down lower for another, more literal, kiss.
“Bedroom.” I insist, standing up with his arms and legs still wrapped around me.
“Lube.” He replies, wincing with the motion and I laugh sympathetically, carrying him towards my bed to make good on the other half of his wish list.
Pairing: Kradam
Word Count: 2,767
Rating: NC-17. Look, even that seems light. NC-25. Really, no one should read this.
Summary: Denied by Adam, Kris has gone looking for all the right things in all the wrong places. Katy begs Adam to intervene, and Adam goes against his better judgment by taking carte blanche to a whole new level.
Warnings: Prostitution, Reference to Dug Use, Alcohol Use, Profanity, Light Domination but Nothing That Crazy
Disclaimer: Lies for a good cause.
A/N: Written in part for
murderaidx who requested "Kris being really drunk , lost somewhere Adam is worried.... if that makes sense but I keep getting this mental image of him in briefs and a buttoned down plaid shirt straddling him on the coach, sofa, w/e whispering dirty things to Adam , telling him all this stuff he wants Adam to do to him. :] while Adam tries to resist and keep himself from taking advantage of poor drunk Kris but fails to do so, and from there you can write all the hot sex after that."
and also for
blaqkaudio who wanted "filthy dirty fingering." This prompt was seconded by windandcoffee and vaguelycoherent for the Dollar Donation Thing, and I am a total whore for charity. Pay up, benches. This got WAY more angsty than I envisioned but who am I to argue with Adam? He's skurry when he's angry.
Unbetad and written in a hot sweaty minute.
Devilstone readers, I promise this is the last non-Devilstone fic I will post before the last chapters. If it's any consolation I might need to bump my chapter count to 13. We'll see. I apparently am in a mood.
They are only in LA for a month before it happens. Katy’s voice on the phone, desperate, and I’m saying all the right things.
“I’ll find him.”
“No, I am sure he didn’t go there.”
“No, Katy, he never tried anything with me, I swear. He’s just going through a phase.”
She tells me she wishes he had tried it with me. At least it would be someone he loved. At least he’d be safe. She’s hysterical and I’m driving, trying to get down to WeHo as fast as I can and talk Katy off the ledge at the same time.
“I’ll bring him home tomorrow. I promise.”
She tells me thank you, she tells me she loves me, and she tells me it’s ok - whatever happens is ok. I pretend not to know what she means. She probably doesn’t even know what she means.
I pull up in front of the shadiest gay bar I can find, the one Katy told me Kris had been going to. She followed him, once, but couldn’t follow him in. It’s my fault, I think. I lied to Katy. He did try something with me, in New York. Thinking of her, I pushed him back. Thinking of Drake, I told him no though it broke my heart to do it. So instead of experimenting with me, instead of letting my heart have its way, Kris Allen has been sleazing it up with fuck-knows who.
I burst through the door and if anyone is surprised to see me, no one shows it. Maybe these coked-up assholes are too far gone to recognize me. Thank God. If they don’t recognize me they certainly won’t recognize Kris. I make my way back into the bathroom, hoping beyond hope he’s there, and sure enough I see a familiar pair of ratted-up converse sneakers facing sideways in one of the stall doors. There’s someone in there with him, I can see his knees and I feel a surge of white-hot jealousy in my stomach.
You bastard. You absolute bastard. You have a wife, you have me. But you told him no.
I’m railing at him and myself alternately in my mind, things I’d never say aloud, as I listen to the proceedings.
“Yeah, Adam. Like that.”
Kris is saying my name. I don’t know if that’s the guy’s name or if this is something Kris is paying him to do. I don’t give a fuck, it makes me sick. I’m about to bust the door down when I hear Kris’s terrified squeak.
“Adam?”
I know this isn’t part of his game. He can see me through the crack in the door, or recognizes my footwear or cologne or maybe he can just read my mind after all our time together.
“Tell your friend this is over, or I’m going to tell him with my fist.”
“This isn’t any of your business.” Kris’s protest is hollow; his desperation for my approval is stronger than his lust for the man on his knees.
“I’m making it my business.”
The man gets up, mumbling an apology through the door and asking if he can leave. I step aside and he bolts without looking at me. I look at him, though, and I see why Kris chose him. He’s tall, with dyed black hair and outlandish fashion sense. A look I’ve seen on far too many WeHo poseurs lately.
He’s standing there, stupidly pushing his cock back into his pants, looking pissed, sheepish, and a little like he wants to cry. He doesn’t move, not even when I cross the few feet between us and pull him into a hug. He lets me hold him, crushing his arms to his sides. I pull back finally and he’s looking hard into my eyes. His pupils are huge; he’s drunk and probably high. He’s terrified.
“Let’s go home.” I say gently and his tough mask dissolves.
“Don’t make me. I can’t face her. You knowing makes it real.” He whispers.
“She knows where you are. You don’t give her enough credit. But I’m not taking you to your home. You’re in no shape and honestly, Kris. I’m afraid of what you’d say. You’re coming home with me.”
He’s in my arms, holding me this time, and he’s mumbling “thank you” into my neck, the word almost soundless against my skin.
***
I pass him the bottle of whiskey, knowing it’s his favorite and he’s sobered up a bit on the ride home. That’s not how I want him. I need him to talk to me, and in vino veritas. Kris has never lied to me, but he’s omitted a hell of a lot. It’s not even ten pm and I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. He’s laying in my lap, snuggling the bottle like a small child would cuddle with a blankie and I’m holding his hand, his unhappy confessor.
“I started two weeks ago. I just drove around, looking for the shittiest place I could find.”
“Oh, that’s safe.” I chide him.
“I didn’t touch them. Didn’t … didn’t have sex.”
“Then what did you do? Pay them for conversation?” I’m aware that I’m being cruel, but the idea of this is making my flesh crawl and my conscience boil. He was desperate, and I had told him no. He was desperate for me and I had sent him packing. I might as well have dropped him off at that club. Fuck, this is all my fault.
“I paid him to blow me. Twice a week.” Kris’s voice is small, and after that admission he sucks another long drink from the bottle.
“Did you pay him extra to call him Adam?”
“He told me that was his name.” Kris says, blinking. “You think he was lying?” The thought was honestly occurring to him for the first time. Bad news. If the dude knew who I was, he knew who Kris was.
“Yes. I think he was lying. I also think the tabloids are going to have a field day.”
“No one will believe him. There weren’t any pictures.” Kris mumbles, uncertain.
“Not that you know of. But someone could have been in a booth, in the next stall. Fuck, Kris.”
“I had to know. I needed to know. Please don’t hate me.” My anger breaks - I can never stay mad at him - and I squeeze his hand.
“I could never hate you. You know that. That’s all you need to know.” He shakes his head at my words.
“I need to know what it feels like. I keep trying to imagine it, imagine you. I need to know and you won’t show me. Why won’t you show me?” He sits up abruptly, the bottle of whisky falling from his lap and onto the floor with a thud. “You don’t want me.” Kris says as if this insight explains everything. “You were kidding about the crush. You were making fun of me.”
“Kris I was not. Don’t be stupid.”
“Then tell me.” He stands up and turns towards me, anger and fear in his eyes. “Tell me you want me.” I can’t. I can’t say it, not if I want to retain the fragile hold I had on my sanity.
“Kris.” I start, but the look on my face gives it away.
“I knew it. You were fucking joking. I bet you and Drake had a good laugh. I bet the whole world thought it was funny. Why would someone like you want someone like me? You can have anyone. You don’t want me, you never wanted me. Fuck.” He stammers, eyes wide at his profanity. “Fuck you, Adam Lambert.”
“Kristopher Allen, stop shouting at me this fucking instant.” I reach out and grab both his wrists before they can swing the angry punches I can see just beginning to form.
“Tell me.” He begs. “Just tell me.” The look on his face was so desperate and wounded that I can’t help myself any longer.
“There’s nothing I want more than you.” I whisper, looking up into his eyes. I bring one of his hands to my mouth and kiss it softly, listening to him gasp. “No one. Nothing.” I let him pull his hands away and regret it instantly. He's out of his jeans in a flash, his blue briefs contrasting with his red and white plaid shirt. Fuck, he looks like Mr. July in some crappy pin-up calender. All he's missing is a bale of hay and a strategically placed garden hoe.
“Kris, we can’t.” I beg, but he straddles me anyways, hands gripping my shoulders.
“Show me.” He begs right back. “I’m not gonna stop. If I can’t get it from you I’ll find someone who can.”
“That’s not fair. Kris you’re not being fair.” My hands are pressed into the couch and I'm determined not to touch him.
“Neither are you. I was fine before I met you. I was normal. Fuck, Adam, I am done playing fair.”
“Don’t put this on me. I didn’t turn you. You’re not going to guilt me into this.”
“I will if it will work.” Kris is hard, and I haven’t even touched him yet. Yet. I can feel myself giving in. Kris was willing to risk everything and I ccan't pretend I wasn’t turned on by it. I’m not a sadist, but I’m sadistic enough. “I can’t take it any longer. Please, Adam.” He breathed the hard words into my ear and I'm gone.
“You little fucker. “ I brought my hands up to the soft cotton that covered his ass. He gave a surprised yelp and wriggled a little, breath hitching hot as I squeezed. “Is this what you want.”
“I want everything.” He groans, pushing his hard on against my chest. He;'s desperate for contact and I'm desperate to give it to him.
“Tell me. Tell me what you want. What were you trying to find in another man’s mouth?”I ask, rubbing gently.
“I’m sorry.” He whimpers. “I was thinking of you the whole time.”
“I know you were.” I purr, sliding my fingertips just beneath his briefs and stroking the soft flesh beneath. “Tell me what you were looking for. I want to hear it from you - how can I make this better? How can I keep you from being so fucking stupid every again? You wanted me. You’ve got me. Now start talking.
“I want to kiss you.” He starts, and moves to do so but I turn my head and tell him to keep talking. He wasn’t getting off that easy. “I want your tongue in my mouth; I want my lips between your teeth.” He whispers into my ear, and as hot as that is -
“Louder.” I commanded, enjoying the gradual blush that swept over his features.
“I want your hands inside me. Your fingers. God.” He pulls one of my hands off his ass and into his mouth. Stunned, I let him. He sucks on my right pointer finger, swirling his tongue over it and letting his slick spit run down my hand. It's too good of an invitation to pass up. Pulling his briefs aside with my free hand I slid the well lubricated finger between his crack and pressed firmly at the tight ring of muscle, which clenches reflexively against my attack.
“I can get lube.” I offer, but he shakes his head.
“I want it to hurt.” His voice soft again. “I think I deserve it, don’t you?”
Fuck.
My cock is stiff against and pressed hard against my jeans, but I have other matters at hand, quite literally.
“Then let me in.” My voice was as forceful as I could muster and I felt him relax, biting his lower lip as the pain took over. “Come on, baby. Come on.” I soothe him, rubbing his ass with my other hand. He gasps. “That’s my boy.” I say, letting him kiss me finally once my finger is all the way inside his snug hole. He whines when I start to move it, but I deepen the kiss, silencing him with my tongue as I work him open. I pull our mouths apart after a good many thrusts and stick my free hand in his face.
“Lick it.” I shudder as his tongue darts out instantly to coat my palm and fingers, taking his time to suck each one. I fucking can't wait to get my cock in his mouth but there's time enough for that later. Using my damp hand, I moisten my right middle finger and push it in alongside its neighbor. Kris groans loudly.
“Does it hurt?” I ask him, wishing I could keep the hunger out of my voice. He nods, head tilted back and eyes closed in bliss as I invade him. It was too tempting.
I shimmy lower and used my teeth to push the front of his underwear off to the side. Once he saw what I was going to do he was begging me for it, practically praying.
“You filthy slut.” I say, more because he needs to hear it than because I actually believe it. “You want me to suck your dick even though it’s got some fucking prostitute’s slobber all over it? You think you deserve that?” I work my fingers in as deep as they could go, scissoring them back and forth so that my fingertips brush against his deepest spot.
“I don’t.” He manages to say, remorse evident in his voice. “ I don’t deserve it.”
“That’s fucking right you don’t. But I love you, Kristopher. And I want you to know just how much.” He's filthy fucking gorgeous grinding his ass against my hand, head leaking and heavy; mouth slack from desire. He opens his eyes to watch me, crying as I take the head of his cock between my lips. I wait until I have my lips all the way down to the base of his cock before I press a third finger in. He cries out but I keep fucking him with my fingers, spreading them wide at the apex of each thrust. He's salty-sweet all over my tongue and I realize it was far too quiet. I have needs too, and what I need most is his voice.
“What else?” I say, pulling back and whispering the words against his head, a hot rush of my spit running down his cock. “Tell me.”
“Wanna be on my knees for you.” Kris groans as I swallow him down again, feeling his hands tighten in my hair. “Want you to fuck me so hard I scream. I want you to destroy me from the inside.”
I'm panting around his cock, and my jeans are painfully constrictive. I pull my free hand from its position and slide my zipper open. Kris hears and arches his back to be able to reach me. I help him pull my cock free and he grips it as if holding on for dear life. It's downright acrobatic and there's no way we can keep up this angle for very long.
There's no need, though. I press sharply up with all three of my fingers, splaying them as far apart as I can at the same time as I flick my tongue against his head.
“Can I?” He gasps, showing more self restraint than I had given him credit for. I pull my mouth off with a resounding pop.
“Come for me.” I tell him, giving his ass one more hard thrust. Not needing any further invitation - and perhaps my voice was what he really needed in that moment - he shoots all over my open mouth, coating my lips and tongue and cheeks. It's messy heaven, feeling the hot run of him grace my skin as his ass pulses hard against my fingers. Kris leans forward; resting his head against the back of the couch as I slowly pull my fingers out. I wipe my face on his shirt - it's hanging right there - and scoot up to kiss him.
“That what you needed?” I ask after our mouths part. The darkness is gone from his face, replaced by a look of absolute bliss. He actually smiles at me, as though we hadn’t just broken all the laws of God and Man and our own unspoken boundaries.
“Well, that was half of it.” He admits. "But I think I mentioned a few other things." He glances down at my considerable problem, which was jabbing him insistently in the thigh. I look at him, searching for fear or regret and finding nothing. He looks more himself than he has in months. Best of all. his voice is back to normal, even more relaxed than he is normally. His perfect skin is shining, reflecting the light from my floor lamp, and I knew he'd be okay. He looks gorgeous and whatever had prevented me from doing this with him sooner is completely destroyed. I kiss my self control goodbye as I pull his head down lower for another, more literal, kiss.
“Bedroom.” I insist, standing up with his arms and legs still wrapped around me.
“Lube.” He replies, wincing with the motion and I laugh sympathetically, carrying him towards my bed to make good on the other half of his wish list.