(no subject)
Title: Here Comes Goodbye
Author: me
Rating: R
Author's Note: this is my first kradam. i've heard of kradam but never really ventured into it. ive been reading/lurking and finally decided to give it a try. this is also posted in the glambert_fic comm.
Disclaimer: i own nothing
It’s one of those nights.
One of those nights where you find yourself wide awake, sleep nowhere to be found. You lie on the bed, propped up on the pillows, and you wonder. You wonder how you could’ve possibly made it from a small-town boy-next-door twenty-three year old, to the top two of American Idol. You wonder how you made it through all these weeks. You always wonder.
Tonight is no exception. The suite you’re staying in the night before the finale is amazing and you spent most of the night taking your own tour. But now you just wish it was all over; you want to get the next night over with. You’re tired and stressed and just wishing you and Adam knew already. You think it would be great, a release, to find out right now who the winner is. You’re tired of being pulled taut with stress and anxiety. You want it to end.
Head whirling with thoughts, you get out of bed and trudge to the bathroom connecting the suites. The tile of the floor is cold against your bare feet and a small shiver takes over your body. You lean against the sink, hands braced on the edge, and stare in the mirror. There’s dark circles under your normally happy brown eyes, your hair is disheveled from running a hand through it all day, and you have worry lines creasing your forehead. You think you look awful and wonder, for a brief moment, if Adam would lend you some makeup to cover it all up.
You blink fast in surprise at the random thought. You shake your head to clear the thought from your mind but find that it doesn’t really help. It’s still there and you wish you could do something about it.
Something thumps in the other suite. You push away from the sink and head for the door leading into the bedroom opposite yours. The door opens easily and you stick your head in. There’s no movement in the darkness. Frowning, you enter the room to check things out. The moonlight that’s streaming through the window illuminates only a patch of the room. You see the cause of the noise lying on the floor next to the bed: the alarm clock.
Laughing on the inside so you don’t wake a sleeping Adam, you tip-toe to the clock to pick it up off the floor. He must’ve knocked it off in his sleep or something, you figure. He does tend to move a lot when he’s sleeping or having a bad dream. You would know after being his roommate for the past few weeks of Idol. It’s when you stand upright that you get a good look at the form on the bed.
Your breath hitches in your throat. The moonlight casts a pale glow on his freckled and lightly tanned skin. He’s bare up top and you don’t seem to mind. It’s the expanse of his back glowing in the moonlight that’s got you transfixed. It’s the rise and fall as he breathes that has you wondering just how soft that skin really is. You stand there and keep staring, keep mentally tracing the bumps and ridges of his spine until they disappear underneath the waistband of a pair of pajama pants. You smile when you realize in the pale light that the Coca-Cola logo is printed all over the material.
You hold your breath when Adam shifts and twists and turns until he’s laying on his other side, facing you. You freeze for a moment, wondering if he’ll wake and see you standing there staring at him. When he doesn’t you back up towards the door but not in time.
“Kris, what’re you doing?” You freeze again, the sound of his voice coated with sleep making you close your eyes and wish you hadn’t come in the room. Stupid alarm clock.
“Thought I heard something fall, man. Just checking to make sure it wasn’t your clumsy ass,” you joke. You joke because it’s the only way to tell the truth and lie at the same time. You did come in there to check on him when you heard the noise. But then you stayed and watched him sleep with the moonlight reflecting off his back. You stood there and watched the rise and fall from his rhythmic breathing. You admired the nakedness of his top half, admired the freckles covering the expanse of his back.
“Cool,” he mumbles and there’s a loud yawn.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” you apologize and make your way back to the door. But something hits your back and you stop to turn and stare at him. You look at the floor first and see one of the many pillows adorning the bed laying on the floor, bright white against the dark carpet.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Adam laughs and you shiver involuntarily at the sound. You’ve always loved his laugh and the way his whole face lights up when he does so.
The sudden thoughts have you grabbing for your wedding ring that isn’t there; it’s on the dresser with your wallet, where you always take it off and put it every night. You frown and rub at the spot anyway. But then you move to your painted thumbnail. It’s chipped now, and you idly think that Adam needs to repaint it for you for the finale tomorrow night.
“Kris?” His whisper makes you jump slightly. You’d almost forgotten that you were still standing in the same room as him, impeding on his sleep, with a question hanging in the air. You need sleep yourself but you don’t think you’ll get any at all until it’s all over.
“Sorry. I’ll leave.” You quickly turn on your heels and hightail it back to your room before worse thoughts can enter your mind.
Thoughts that might lead to something uncomfortable for you and for him.
***
You won the competition. You won the title of American Idol. You got the confetti falling out of the ceiling and the top twelve contestants surrounding you while you sang Kara’s cheesy coronation song. You looked for Adam before Katy came up on the stage but you briefly saw him at the back with Allison. Then Katy got to you and you hugged her tight and you cried.
You cried because it was finally over. The waiting, the stress, the sleepless nights. You cried because you wouldn’t see these other amazing singers again until the tour. You cried because you wouldn’t be on that stage anymore but Katy hugged you back just as tightly.
You go through a whirlwind of press interviews and photos and interviews with Adam. You go to the after party with all the other contestants and you spend time with your family and Katy. You eat and you party and you have a good time. But he’s there in the back of your mind. Last night is in the back of your mind on replay. You can’t get that picture out of your head, even if you were there for only about ten minutes. You kiss Katy once you and your family are in the limo and for a moment you wish that simple gesture would take your mind off last night.
“Kris, baby, you okay?” Katy asks you and you turn to smile at her, and you kiss her hand lightly.
“I’m good,” you reply instantly. Really, though, you’re not that good. You want to get back to the suite and spend your last night there; your last night with Adam.
The ride to the hotel is filled with laughter and talking, but you’re not really into it. You’d rather be sleeping right now and it’s already rounding on midnight. When the limo finally pulls up to the hotel you and Adam are staying at you readily slide out into the cool night air. You tell everyone goodnight and that you’ll see them tomorrow. You stand there waving until the limo is out of sight, then you hurry inside, key card already in hand.
You didn’t think you’d ever be so happy to see a bed. You feel like you glide straight to it and you’re dressed down to your boxers and undershirt in only a few seconds. You flop face first onto the bouncy mattress and sigh: it feels so good. Your eyes close and you feel the exhaustion creeping through your body like honey.
But no matter how long you lay there you know sleep won’t come until you get something resolved. So with a groan you push off the bed and trudge through the bathroom. You don’t even knock; you go straight into the other room.
And you freeze mid-step.
He’s standing there changing out of the shiny black suit he wore for the results and the after party. He’s in just the pants and the shiny black shoes that match. One of his necklaces is resting on his bare chest, and you wonder for a second if it’s cool against his skin.
He looks up, then, and you force a smile on your face.
“Oh, hey.”
You swallow hard. It’s taking you forever to come up with something to say, but you don’t want to sound stupid.
“So…” You mentally roll your eyes. What a start to a conversation.
“Yeah?”
You swallow again and find that the lump that had been forming is slowly dissipating with each moment that passes and you’re still standing there. “It’s over.” You know the statement means a lot more than what it’s meant to be. You think that maybe he won’t understand the implications of that one statement. But you can tell by the look in his eyes that he does. There’s sadness and happiness and excitement and weariness all there in those baby blues that drew you in from the first time you sat next to him at Hollywood week.
“It’s just…I-I can’t believe it’s all over,” you groan and hurry over to his bed to sit without being asked to. You put your elbow’s on your knees and your face in your hands. The mattress sinks next to you and a hand is on your shoulder.
“I know. Me too. But we’ll tour this summer. That’ll be fun.” You watch him shrug and snatch a plain black v-neck tee off the top of his open suitcase.
You watch the way he bends over to yank off his shoes one-by-one. You chuckle, low and raspy, when he tosses them aside and goes for his socks next. He smirks at you over his shoulder and your laugh stutters to a halt. You watch the muscles in his back bunch and stretch and you see for the first time just how tired and stressed he really is. You lightly trail a finger down his spine, not having a care in the world about what you’re doing. He sits up fast, spine going straight, and he shoots off the bed like a rocket.
Your eyes go wide at the realization of what you just did. You just stepped over a line into uncharted territory. Territory you’ve never explored with the same sex. You stumble off the bed and don’t know what to do except run for the door. You’re almost there until he’s got you by the wrist and has you against the wall. You feel the flush go through your body, feel the jolt in your chest at the closeness.
The look in his eyes is startling when you finally have the guts to see. The eyeliner and mascara from the night’s performances is still there and looks as if it hasn’t been through hours of people and pushing and energy. The black around his eyes makes those baby blues smolder with intensity and, for the first time, you notice, pure want. For you. You wonder how you’ve never noticed that in his looks. Sure, you two have always given each other the biggest hugs that consist of face plants and body-to-body squeezes. You’ve noticed the quick peeks he takes when he thinks you’re not looking. But you’ve given them, too.
“Don’t walk away from this,” he whispers and releases your wrist. He doesn’t move out of your personal space, though, and you silently revel in that. You love it when he’s pressed against you; whether it’s from those hugs or being squished together on booths and couches. You’ve never minded.
“I’m not,” you whisper back and surge forward before he can say anything else. You press your lips against his in a desperate maneuver to be close to him. If anything, you’re not leaving this competition without doing this.
All these feelings, you realize, have been suppressed. They’ve been building with each touch, each glance, each smile, each Wednesday night that you get to stay. Finally, finally, you’re coming to terms with them. The dam has burst. The wedding band on your ring finger suddenly feels like a thousand-pound weight. You brush it off as nothing. You can’t help these feelings that have been boiling just under the surface for weeks now. You can feel guilty about Katy later. Right now, you want Adam, and only him.
The kiss ends and you wish it hadn’t. You already miss the feeling of those sinful lips against yours. So you grab his face and pull it back to you. He hums contently and his hands go to the hem of your undershirt and his fingers gently slide across your over-heated skin. You urge him on, take his hands and force them up your sides. He takes the shirt along for the ride and you instinctively raise your arms above your head. The shirt is tossed to the side and you open your eyes for a moment.
“Adam,” you mumble against his lips and he pulls back fast. You see the alarm on his face and those eyes are full of panic, where just a second ago they were filled with want and need.
“Sorry, sorry. We shouldn’t be doin-”
You silence his ramblings with a hand over his mouth. He, however, continues to talk behind your hand, but it’s muffled and a little comical. His eyes are wide and he’s digging blunt fingernails into your sides without even realizing it. “Adam, shut up.” His mouth stops moving and you remove your hand.
“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” he asks frantically, hands fluttering off your sides but coming back a second later. For once, Adam is fragile, vulnerable. You caught him at his weakest and he’s cracked. You feel triumphant over this new-found knowledge. You finally found a chip in Adam Lambert’s armor.
“No. In fact, you’re doing everything right,” you say and grin crookedly at him. He visibly relaxes but you can still feel the tension in his fingertips as they slide up and down your ribs. Before he can say anything you press up against him, cursing for being so short, and kiss him again.
You reach for the button on those perfectly fit pants and his hips stutter from the simple contact. A hand slams onto the wall next to your head, making you shut your eyes and groan. You want this so bad. It only takes a second to get the button undone and the zipper all the way down. The pants fall to the floor and he steps out of them, then puts his free hand on your waist and yanks you closer to him. You gasp at the initial contact of skin on skin and a shudder runs down your spine.
Adam moans low in his throat and you think it’s the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard besides that voice. You smile at him, that sweet, half-assed smile that everyone says makes you look adorable. It makes you laugh thinking about it.
All thoughts become mush when Adam’s lips attach to your jaw. He travels slowly down, nipping and sucking at skin, and you shudder again. When he sucks a mark high on your neck and just below your ear for all the world to see, you push your hips against his and tangle your fingers in his still-styled hair and tug. It’s not sharp enough to hurt but not soft enough to be gentle. His mouth finds yours and you open up easily; allow a slide of his tongue against yours before the battle for dominance begins.
Short work is made of what’s left of clothes. You let him manhandle you to the bed covered in clothes and accessories, and your heart does a back flip in your chest. When he’s got you sprawled out and wanting, you just close your eyes and wait. The sensations running through your body are too hard to take in all at once. You can feel the excitement sizzling through your veins like fire, the desire pulsing from your every pore, the pure need bubbling forth in a moan that would make a nun blush.
His lips slide over your chest, leaving a trail of white-hot fire behind. He stops, your head shooting up to see what the hell he’s stopping for, and see he’s staring at you in mock innocence. “I know you were watching me last night,” he murmurs and places a kiss above your belly-button.
“R-really?” It comes out as a squeak that you won’t admit to later. Adam laughs whole-heartedly and trails the tip of his nose down the length of your cock, your breath coming in shorts bursts. You feel oxygen deprived when he finally stops. Your chest is heaving with the need to touch and be touched, and you make that need known by arching against him. He readily takes you in his mouth, flicking a dark-eyed gaze at you.
You don’t think you’ve cursed so much in your life. It was all slow and teasing and about feeling good. When he worked you open you nearly screamed. And when he finally rolled a condom on and lubed up and entered you in one languid thrust, you squeezed your eyes shut and prayed that you could still breathe when it was all over. The sensations all boiled down to one feeling: release. He tipped you over the edge and you moaned and said his name in a constant mantra. When you finished you flipped so he was beneath you, surprise mixed in with the pleasure on his face. You held him down with both hands to his shoulders and rocked your hips against his until he tipped his head back, mouth open on a moan, and shuddered through his own release, his hands gripping your own tightly.
Now, after the shaking has subsided and you’ve decided you feel pretty damn good, you turn to him propped up on one elbow. He stares up at you, eyes droopy with sleep. You feel bad keeping him up but you both need the sleep. You glance at the alarm clock on the other side and see it’s almost two-thirty in the morning.
“We have to be up early,” he says and you nod your head in agreement. Yet you can’t seem to drop to the mattress and just go to sleep. There’s a make-up bag digging into your back and a flat-iron poking you in the foot. All the damn accessories.
“It’s not so messy in my room. Wanna go?” you ask and hope the answer is an immediate yes. He nods instead of giving you a verbal answer and you roll off the bed, feet hitting the floor quietly.
Adam follows you through the bathroom and into your room. You sigh at the sight of the clutter free bed and rush to the edge and fall onto the comfortable surface. He crawls in beside you. You lay on your back, hands folded on your stomach, and ankles crossed. He flips onto his side to face you and you wonder what’s going through that pretty head of his.
“Where are you going once this is over?”
The question comes out of no where and you don’t expect him to answer. You feel stupid for asking.
“Probably home for a little while,” he answers and shrugs like it’s really no big deal. “You?”
You sigh in the darkness of the room, contemplating the question. “I guess back to Arkansas for a couple of days before the tour starts. I don’t know, man.”
Then the room goes silent. You lay there staring at the ceiling while he curls in on himself and places a protective hand over your hips, fingertips just barely brushing your waist. You smile to yourself when his breathing starts to even out and you look down. His black hair is the only thing you can see for his face is pressed into your side and the blanket is drawn up around him. You wonder when that got there and shrug it off, not really caring.
The end of tomorrow will bring you closer to home. You will have a few interviews with Adam and spend more time with your wife and parents. You’ll say goodbye to the best friend you could have met through this experience. He’ll come with you to the airport and you’ll share one of those face plant, bodies-pressed-so-close hugs with him and you’ll be sad. But you’ll be grateful that he’s someone in your life now. You can feel guilty about Katy when you see her and you can mope and feel sorry for yourself. But you’ll never really regret tonight. You won’t regret trying out for the show and making it to the finals and winning the title.
You look down at the sleeping Adam as he shifts a little and nudges his nose into your side some more. You smile and think about how much you’re going to miss being around him all the time. You’ll miss tonight the most, though. For now you’ll lay here and bask in the afterglow of what happened, and you’ll run it over and over in your head on repeat. You won’t regret anything when he wakes up next to you in the morning. You’ll kiss him again, because you discovered you really like kissing him, and you’ll smile and tell him good morning.
Goodbye comes later.