right and godly (ruby_fruit) wrote in glambert_fic,
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Fic: Angels or Machines

Title: Angels or Machines
Author: ruby_fruit
Rating: NC-17. PWP. This is not the plot you are looking for. [/jedi]
Pairing: Kris Allen/Adam Lambert
Summary: In which there is a slideshow, and no questions are answered.
Warnings: Infidelity. Mild dominance play, descriptions of BDSM.
Notes: Sort of sequel to TWOTW(IL). If I refuse to call it a series will that stop it from becoming one? anandrine once again put up with my whining and abuse of the common comma. I &hearts her. The title still belongs to Ginsberg and I still want you to turn right the fuck around if you actually know anyone in this fic.



His problem – Kris thinks – is curiosity. His life would be so much simpler if he could just learn to let things go and keep his damn mouth shut.

“What is this thing, anyway?”

Adam spins awkwardly when Kris grabs the ever-present leather thing hanging from his belt. The sudden clumsiness is novelty, and Kris pulls Adam a little closer by it, just to see Adam try to keep his balance.

“Careful! And what about it?”

Kris tugs again, “This. You’re always wearing it,” and lets Adam go.

Adam gives Kris a measuring look, dropping back to walk beside him, and he unclips the bit of leather from his belt and rolls it between his palms. It’s kind of pretty, fine black leather strands spilling between Adam’s fingers, and reminds Kris of the little whisk broom his dad used to clean out the car, only leather instead plastic. He has no idea why Adam’s being so weird about it.

Kris is about to repeat his question when Adam’s expression switches from thoughtful to devious and the hand holding the not-a-broom snaps out. The noise it makes when it cracks across Kris’ ass is surprisingly loud, but not as loud as Kris’ yelp.

Jesus!”

Adam promptly cracks up, laughing so hard he has to hold onto the wall to stay upright. Kris punches him in the arm, rubbing the stinging spot on his ass and trying not to laugh himself.

“You dick, what the hell was that?”

Adam takes a few deep breaths and seems to get himself mostly under control, with only a few random eruptions of giggling.

“I’m sorry, but you should have seen your face.”

Kris glares, Adam pats his shoulder sympathetically, then ruins it by laughing again. Kris elbows him.

Dick.”

Adam eyes him sidelong, still far too amused.

“You shouldn’t have asked if you didn’t want to know.”

Adam holds up the whip and shakes it, face mischievous.

“I cannot believe you are walkin’ around with a bondage whip on your belt.”

Adam laughs with his head thrown back, delighted.

“It’s a cat o’ nine tails. And technically, it’s purely decorative, not functional.”

“Didn’t feel decorative.” Kris drops down on his bed to take off his shoes, his ass still hurts, a sort of burn coming up under the fading sting.

Adam strips off his shirts and kicks his boots off haphazardly, droping face down onto his bed. Kris takes a moment to appreciate his messy hair and the long line of him from shoulder to knee.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t know.” Adam watches him over the curve of his folded arm, easing into the slow crash he always does after a show.

Kris wanders across the room, and kneels over Adam. He’s not trying to start anything, but Adam always seems to end up on top when they fuck around. It’s nice to have the upper hand for once; Kris kisses Adam’s shoulder, and sees the curve of his cheek move up in a smile.

“You’ve never used a real one?” Kris stretches out, covering Adam, who sighs contentedly.

“Never had one used on me.”

Kris blinks at Adam’s profile, the sleepy smile and sliver of an amused grey eye. “You’ve...done that?” Adam’s smile widens, showing teeth.

Adam turns his head a little more towards Kris, expression gentling. Kris tries to rearrange his face, he suspects he looks pretty freaked out right now.

“Oh dear. Too much?”

“No. I just. It’s weird. I can’t imagine you doing that, hurting someone.”

Adam frowns, pensive. “I don’t, really.” He grins at Kris. “You’ve really never done anything like that? Bit of spanking, pink fuzzy handcuffs?”

Kris turns red, and digs his chin into Adam’s shoulder, who laughs and rocks back into him.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’. Here, let me.” Adam wiggles a little and Kris leans off him, watches him pull his laptop out from under the bed and open it up.

The curiosity is too much when Adam reaches back and covers Kris’ eyes while he opens up a protected folder.

“Ok, seriously, what is it?”

Adam takes his hand off Kris’ eyes and, oh. Apparently Adam is in a ‘show, don’t tell’ mood. Kris recognizes the guy sprawled on the bed in the photo as Brad, his sharp, distinctive face half covered by his blurred hand pushing the hair out of his eyes. The photo is in black and white, and it takes Kris a minute to realize that the stripes on Brad’s back and ass aren’t just from the blinds in the background.

“Oh. Woah.” Kris’ breath ruffles the hair above Adam’s ear as he leans forward.

Adam hums contentedly, his face affectionate and disturbingly reminiscent of Kris’ relatives, gathered around a vacation scrapbook.

“You did this.” It’s not really a question; Adam is a shadow at the edge of the photograph, distinctive freckled forearm and perfectly painted nails.

“Yeah. You don’t have to look if you don’t want too, but I thought this would be easier than me trying to explain, then falling asleep halfway through.”

“Easier is…a word for it.”

Adam tries to turn a little more and Kris leans on his shoulders. He wants to look without being watched. Adam subsides with a grunt and Kris presses an absent kiss into his hair, reaching around his shoulders to tap the scroll button.

“Panicking yet?” Even muffled, Adam sounds amused. Kris ignores him in favor of remembering how to breathe.

This picture is more… Kris doesn’t have words. Pornographic doesn’t quite cover it. It was taken over the sharp edge of Brad’s hip, without the shadows of the blinds to diffuse them, the welts are vivid. Adam’s forehead is pressed to Brad’s stomach, cheeks hollowed. He’s looking into the camera.

“You look at the camera like that.” Kris’ clears his throat, he sounds rusty.

“Well yeah, I was performing.” Adam’s voice is losing its precise enunciation, he’s barely watching Kris through his lashes.

“Do you always?” That sounded less pathetic in Kris’ head.

Adam’s voice is dry.

“Sure, when there’s a photographer there.”

Kris makes a noncommittal noise, and keeps scrolling. After a few pictures Adam shifts under him deliberately, pressing his ass back against Kris. Several pictures fly by in rapid succession as Kris grips the laptop, hissing in a breath.

“Not just freaking out. Interesting.” There’s something lurking under the sleepiness in Adam’s voice.

Trying to get settled again isn’t working, every position just seems to make Kris even more aware of how hard he is. Finally, Adam reaches back and grabs his thigh, Kris freezes.

“Go back.”

“What?”

“Go back, you missed a few.”

Kris skips back too far when Adam pushes back into him again, he can’t help rocking forward, grinding against Adam’s ass through two pairs of jeans. He breathes out, shaky, and Adam makes a pleased, wordless murmur beneath him, eyes shut. Kris does it again.

Brad with his arms tied behind him, bent over the edge of the bed like an offering. On his knees with Adam standing over him in boots and blue jeans that are hiding nothing. Adam’s braced arm and shoulder over Brad, their half obscured faces and the curve of Adam’s back making it very clear what’s happening.

The last picture was taken from between Brad’s thighs. His stomach is wet, and Adam’s hand, wrist bound in leather, is holding his cock. There’s a bite mark high up on Brad’s thigh, Kris can see the individual tooth marks.

“Jesus.”

Kris hides his face in Adam’s hair, abandoning dignity and just rocking frantically against him. Adam’s fingers lace through his own, pulling his hands away from the keyboard. It takes maybe a minute for Kris to come in his pants, hot flush of embarrassment warring with release. Adam’s eyes are still closed, but he’s smiling, and he rubs his thumb across Kris’ knuckles soothingly.

Kris slides partway off Adam, turning away from the laptop and breathing hard. He licks his lips,

“Do you want, uh.”

Adam shakes his head.

“Mmph. Offer that again when I wake up.” His face is already going slack with sleep.

Kris sits up the rest of the way, feeling a little run over. He looks at Adam, then the laptop, humming away innocuously; he shakes his head, carefully shuts the machine, and goes to shower.

*

Adam is always a little manic after rehearsal. All of the build up of performing, not enough of the release.

Kris slides to his knees in front of Adam, it’s surprising, still, how much he likes doing this. Adam’s wearing underwear this time and they’ve left a red pressure mark across his stomach. Kris grins, thinking of an old girlfriend who liked to wear jeans as tight as Adam does, and leans in to lick along it. Then does it again when it makes Adam curl in on himself with a gasp and a burst of sharp, stuttering laughter.

“Oh, what the hell!”

He holds Kris away by the shoulders, still laughing. Kris grins up at him, with his flushed face and messy hair, performance clothes half on, Adam looks very much the debauched rock star. Minus the giggling, of course.

“No one ever did that to you?”

“Most people in your position aren’t concerned with my stomach.”

Kris rolls his eyes and reaches out to rub his thumb across the red mark, firmer this time. Adam flinches and twists, Kris presses harder and finally gets the sigh and shiver he was looking for. Adam’s eyes go half shut and he leans into Kris again.

“Mmm, I take back all the bad things I just thought about you.”

“It’s not my fault you’re ticklish like a little girl.”

Adam pulls a face at him and Kris smiles innocently back, running his palms over Adam’s hips and around to his back. There’s an indented line where the mic pack always digs in, no matter how you sit and he’s still a little sweaty from the stage lights. Kris tugs Adam closer and ducks his head to mouth his cock through the fabric. Whether Kris is just that transparent or Adam’s merely good at reading people, it’s very hard to hide anything he’s thinking from Adam. And right now Kris wants to get off, not talk about how he was just on national TV and now he’s blowing another guy and really, how completely bizarre is his life right now.

“And here I thought you’d forgotten what you were down there for.”

Kris snorts and leans back, working Adam’s pants down over his hips.

“Exactly how many times have you been slapped instead of getting head?”

“None! I’m very charming.”

Adam, bracing a hand on Kris’ shoulder for balance as he steps out of his pants, kisses his cheek as punctuation. Kris turns his head and pulls him into a longer one.

“You’re bossy.”

Adam’s grin is dark and dirty, and he arches an elegant eyebrow.

“I am. But you know that.”

Kris can feel the heat flooding his face as he remembers those pictures. It’s in the details. Adam’s hand in the middle of Brad’s back, pressing him down. Tucked into the crease of his knee, bending him in half. Or one particular one, shot from the back, with the bare curve of Adam’s ass, and Brad on his knees with Adam’s hand holding his jaw, thumb pressing down on his tongue.

Adam watches him remember, eyes bright and mouth wicked, and his hand drifts to the side of Kris’ face.

“Wanna try something?”

Kris’ immediate thought is not just no, but hell no. It must be obvious, because Adam’s smile switches from wicked to sweet and he runs his knuckles along Kris’ jaw.

“Nothing crazy, promise. You can always say stop.”

It’s a little irritating to be able to see Adam using his stage charm on him, and have it work anyway. Kris bites his lip, feeling slightly vindicated when Adam’s gaze falters.

“Nothing crazy?”

“Cross my heart. Keep your hands on your thighs and touch my arm if you want me stop.”

It’s one of those things that shouldn’t be a big deal, but it is. Kris has been experiencing a lot of those lately. He’d never really realized how much he used his hands when he sucked Adam until he couldn’t. Adam goes slow and keeps his thrusts shallow, rolling his hips lazily as he holds Kris’ head still, or tilts him for better friction. Still, Kris feels frighteningly lacking in control. He’s also so hard that being confined in his jeans is starting to hurt. It’s a double relief when Adam’s breath starts coming short and hard and his rhythm falters. For the first time Adam’s quiet when he comes, just a little whine and catch in his breathing.

Kris sits back, trying to catch his own breath, and realizes his hands are clenched so tight into the legs of his jeans they’re starting to cramp. He rubs them on his thighs, trying to restore some blood flow. Adam’s watching him, and his face is not quite angry. It’s intense, and not a look Kris has been on the receiving end of before, it makes him feel like. He doesn’t know.

Adam seems to recognize that, and folds himself down onto the floor in front of Kris, covering his hands with his own, and kissing his jaw delicately. Kris shuts his eyes, grateful, his mouth feels raw and numb.

“Wonderful. And now you get a reward.”

Adam pushes Kris back and gets him to stretch out and it’s almost more relief than pleasure when he gets Kris’ pants open and down around his thighs. It feels like he’s been hard for hours, and Kris groans softly when Adam’s tongue swirls over the head of his cock. Adam smirks up at him, and then swallows him, going down until his nose is pressed to Kris’ belly. Kris curses – god that was way too loud – and grabs at Adam’s hair reflexively.

Adam pulls off slowly, tongue dragging against the underside of Kris’ cock, and slides back down. His eyes are heavy-lidded and pleased and Kris just tries not to make enough noise to alert every single person in the house. It takes Kris an embarrassingly short time to come, and he shudders, completely over-sensitized when Adam pulls off. Kris watches the ceiling and remembers breathing and fine motor control while Adam makes himself comfortable, draped across Kris’ chest. They’re companionably quiet for a few minutes.

“What, no one ever did that to you before?”

Kris snorts, laughs, flails out and smacks Adam on the ear, making him laugh too.

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.”

Kris laughs again, pushing his arm under his head so he can look at Adam.

“You don’t ever, ah-”

Adam is far too amused with Kris’ inability to phrase this particular question.

“Catch? Bottom? Let people fuck me?”

“Sure, yeah. That.”

“I do, but not so much with random hook-ups. And Brad was a great big greedy bottom, so.” Adam shrugs, jostling them both, and smiles sweet and sly. “Besides, like you said, I’m bossy.”

Kris wrinkles his nose and thinks about that, carding his fingers through Adam’s hair. Adam chuckles, leaning into it.

“You have thirty years to stop doing that. And stop looking so pensive, it’s just fucking. I may have a preference, but I’m not opposed to either position.”

“Even with a random hook up?”

“Don’t get dramatic on me now, Mary. You’re not a random hook up. You’ve officially made regular hook up status.” Adam pats Kris’ chest, tone droll.

Kris tugs at the hair he was petting. “Gee, I feel all special.”

They’re quiet for a minute, and Kris should know better, because Adam never drops anything until he’s figured it out.

“Hey, is this all some lapsed-straight boy way of asking if you can fuck me?”

Kris sputters.

“It totally is! Isn’t it? You want to fuck me and now because of one little photoshoot you think I won’t let you!”

Adam is way too gleeful. Kris thinks calling a folder full of porn staring you and your ex-boyfriend a little photoshoot is underplaying it just a tad. Adam beams at him, and Kris groans and covers his face; he’s never going to live this down. Adam pulls his hands away.

“Hey, hey. Come on, now. I’m charmed, that was totally adorable.”

Adam isn’t helping, and Kris tells him so.

“Would it help to know the answer is yes?”

“Huh?”

Adam rolls his eyes hugely.

“Remember five minutes ago when I told you it was just fucking, and to stop freaking out? I meant that. I swear, you breeders and your gender roles. We don’t get to you people when you’re young you get all these weird ideas.”

“Ha ha.”

Adam smirks at him and stick out his tongue, Kris huffs, still hot-faced.

“I’m serious, you can if you want to. You won’t even have to tie me up.”

Kris takes a minute before responding, because really, that’s a thought.

“It’s not a big deal?”

“Not since I was seventeen.”

Kris hums, and goes back to petting Adam’s hair. Adam sighs softly and watches him, eyes half shut and patient.
Tags: fic, pairing: adam/kris, rating: nc-17
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