Caught in the Tide

sequel to that old black magic

"Kris!"

Adam drops his keys and dumps his jacket on the floor, tripping over his own feet as he tries to kick off his shoes and walk at the same time.

"Kriskriskriskriskris!"

He knows he has a huge, stupid smile on his face. People have been giving him odd looks all the way home. He's a little bit worried that he'll scare Kris off with his enthusiasm, but it's been such a long time since he's had someone to come home to and share a piece of good news with, and—well, he's been dreaming about that person being Kris for years...

They've been living together—as completely platonic but perhaps a bit overly-cuddly roommates—for almost a month now, and Adam still can't believe that this is happening. Kris is real. He's everything Adam thought—hoped, wished, prayed—he would be.

Kris is handsome. He's cute. He's unbearably polite. He's talented; Adam can't get enough of his voice. And he's so nice. He always wants the best for people. He seems to think that Adam can do no wrong, that Adam should have all the fame and success and money in the world. They usually talk carefully around the topic of their love lives, but the few times they did flippantly talk about it, Adam got the impression that Kris can't quite wrap his head around the fact that Adam has been literally waiting for him for years, dating just for fun and never really offering his heart to anyone.

Adam wants to explain it to him so much he could burst from keeping the words in, but fate and soul mates are heavy concepts, and it's a lot of pressure to put on a new relationship.

There's no way Adam is going to lose Kris by moving too fast. All those other guys, they were the training wheels. This is the real thing. This is for good. So what if Adam feels like greeting Kris with a kiss every time they say hi? What if he wants to drag Kris to bed with him every night when they say good night? What Adam wants doesn't matter; he can make do with the memory of their kiss at the playground for now. Kris hasn't kissed him again, and Adam is okay with that. He can wait until Kris is ready. He can be patient when it counts.

And it's not like it's a hardship to be Kris' roommate, to enjoy Kris' warm hugs, and his bright smiles, and his selfless support. To run home with a stupid smile on his face just to find Kris—

—staring blearily at him from the bedroom door, looking rumpled.

Adam's brain stutters to a stop. Kris is standing at Adam's bedroom door. Adam's never even seen him enter that room before. He's wearing one of Adam's faded Queen t-shirts, and his hair's all over the place, like—like he just got out of bed... out of Adam's bed.

Adam's heart swells and tries to escape his chest, floating up like a helium balloon, and Adam's dick—Adam's dick has a lot of feelings about this as well, but Adam tells it to shut it. He gulps down against the knot in his throat and tries to blink away the sudden haze of lust.

"I woke you up."

Kris runs a hand through his hair sheepishly. "Sorry, I—The couch really is killing my back, and you weren't home, so I thought..."

"Oh, that's—" Adam's voice breaks. He has to stop and clear his throat. (He's not thinking about Kris in his bed. He's not.) "That's cool. I mean. I told you before, you should—I can take the couch."

"No, no," Kris says, waving Adam's words away as always. "This was more than—" He yawns, covers his mouth with a hand, and then smiles blearily. "I guess I do miss sleeping in a bed," he admits.

We can get you a bed, Adam almost says for the thousandth time but holds it back in the last second. Getting a bed for Kris will mean turning the tiny junk room into a second bedroom, and if Kris has his own room then they really will be roommates—which is fine. It's cool. It's just that Adam's not quite ready yet to give up on the hope that maybe Kris will move into Adam's room and they'll be more than just roommates. Adam could get used to Kris looking sleepy and rumpled. And if Kris wanted to be sweaty and naked from time to time, that would also be—Adam bites his lip at the thought—fine.

"You were saying something," Kris prompts.

He's leaning against the doorjamb, one hand resting on his own stomach under his (Adam's) t-shirt, and his pajama bottoms are riding low on his hips, giving Adam a peek of golden skin.

Adam can't breathe.

He can, however, move.

Two steps forward and he's in Kris' space, close enough to catch that moment of surprise, Kris' eyes going wide. And then, unexpectedly, Kris lets out a sound, whisper-soft, and his eyelids drop halfway, making Adam lose whatever bit of sanity he had left.

Adam grips Kris' hips and is leaning down to kiss him before it occurs to him that hey maybe he should ask for permission first.

"Kris."

It's so hard to concentrate on talking when his fingers are brushing that teasing strip of skin visible over Kris' pajama bottoms. Kris doesn't seem to be doing much better. His chest is heaving, and his lips are parted, and Adam can't—he can't—if this ruins everything—

"Is this—can I—?"

Kris grips Adam's arms—God, he has a strong grip—and says, "Yes, yeah, please," in one breath, and Adam is a goner.

The kiss starts out deep and messy and only gets deeper and messier from there. In all of Adam's fantasies—okay, not all of them, but the recent ones anyway—they'd gone much slower than this, taking their time and leisurely making out, lots of foreplay where they discover each other's bodies... But this is cool, too, obviously. This is more than cool; this is incredible. Kris' arms are wrapped around Adam's neck, one hand buried in Adam's hair, and he's pulling himself up for more. Finally, finally Adam knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Kris wants him as much as he wants Kris, and the relief is overwhelming.

The Queen t-shirt is old, worn thin in places and so very soft under Adam's hands, but it can't compare to the feel of Kris' skin. Adam's hands run up and down Kris' back, fingers splayed, and when Kris moves closer, making an impatient sound against Adam's lips, Adam tightens his hold and pulls him in, supporting his weight.

The feeling of finally having Kris in his arms after all this time is indescribable. A part of Adam wants to laugh uncontrollably from joy, another part just wants to wrap Kris up in cotton and keep him somewhere safe, only take him out on special occasions. Mostly though, Adam wants to see Kris in his bed, naked, spread out on Adam's messy sheets.

Kris is tiny. (Not that. That feels perfectly proportionate against Adam's thigh.) The height difference makes it hard to keep their balance without some sort of support. Adam can pick Kris up and hold him just where he wants him, but he's not sure how Kris would feel about that and he doesn't want to push his luck. So he makes do with turning them around and pushing Kris up against the wall. Kris moans his assent at the new position and bites Adam's lower lip, pulling it into his mouth to suck on it—and God, Adam can't quite handle the noises he makes; the self-satisfied moans, the loud, panting breaths. He reaches down to grab Kris' ass, pulling his hips up and against his own, grinding their erections. That makes Kris stop kissing Adam and throw his head back, eyes closed and mouth open, his neck bared and tempting. He's like something out of a wet dream, and Adam has to grind harder, lean in and breathe in the scent of him, to make sure it's all real, not a dream, finally.

"God, Adam..."

Kris' voice is low and rough, travelling down Adam's spine like an electric current, making him shiver. He buries his groan in Kris' throat and opens his mouth wide to suck a bruise there, where it will be visible over the neck of a t-shirt. Adam never said he wasn't a possessive bastard, and when it comes to Kris, he feels double the need to claim.

It's a horrible thought and maybe it makes him a bad person, but he's had enough of Kris belonging to other people to last him a lifetime. Now that the ring is no longer on Kris' finger, Adam wants to mark him before someone else can snatch him up. Taking their time is all well and good, but Adam doesn't want there to be any misunderstandings about this. Adam is here to stay—for as long as Kris lets him.

Kris pulls at Adam's shirt, scrabbling at his back to get it off, and breathes out, "Adam, off, come on," and maybe it's ridiculous how every time Kris says his name in that tone Adam wants to grin and kiss him and come, but he can't help it. Adam bites Kris' shoulder to suppress his manic grin, and then stands back a step, pushing his hands up and bunching Kris' t-shirt as he goes. Kris raises his arms up obediently and Adam yanks the t-shirt off, revealing Kris' chest and his arms, golden skin flushed pink down the middle, under a dusting of hair.

Adam can spend days, weeks just exploring Kris' chest, but Kris is already unbuttoning his shirt, so he has to look away and help him with that.

Nakedness is good. There should be more nakedness.

Kris' touch on Adam's chest is hesitant, his fingers tentative and shaky as they travel down Adam's neck to his nipples, and it snaps Adam out of his sex! now! yes! daze and reminds him that this is probably Kris' first time with a man, and he just got out of a marriage, and he's in a city where he doesn't know anyone, living with a guy he barely knows.

Maybe this is not the best idea right now.

Adam catches Kris' hands in his, holding them against his chest and squeezing his fingers reassuringly. "Kris, we don't have to do this."

Kris looks up at him with huge, uncomprehending eyes. "What?"

"This isn't—if you need more time... I mean, we don't have to rush into anything. I don't want you to think—"

Kris keeps staring at him expectantly.

"What I'm trying to say is... I don't want to be your rebound guy, and I don't want to be your experiment. This is—you're very important to me."

Adam is mentally kicking himself for coming on so strong—both with the sex and with the clumsy explanations—but then Kris smiles at him, red lips curling up on one side, and Adam breathes a sigh of relief.

Kris is not freaking out. That's good. That's awesome.

"You've been thinking about this," Kris says, cupping Adam's cheek with one hand and running his thumb over Adam's lower lip. "About us. Having sex."

"A lot," Adam confesses. His verbal filter has been disengaged with all the blood rushing to his dick; he can't stop the words.

"Yeah, well, so have I," Kris tells him, bringing him closer for a soft kiss.

Adam groans and melts into his touch.

Pulling back, Kris says, "I think we've both done enough thinking to last us a while. It's time to stop thinking and..."

"Fuck?" Adam offers, trying not to look too hopeful.

"Yeah," Kris says, grinning up at him impishly.

"That is so romantic," Adam tells him, only half joking.

Kris shrugs. "Bedroom?"

~

Adam hasn't felt this nervous about sex since he was nineteen.

They stand in front of the bed, all bravado left behind in the hallway, and Adam waits. He can see that Kris is just as nervous as he is, and figures that maybe giving him the lead and letting him start things off at his own pace would make this easier. Adam knows that won't last. He knows himself well enough to tell that once they get going, he'll instinctively take over, and that's—that's something he hopes Kris will enjoy, but maybe not right off the bat; he doesn't want to overwhelm Kris.

All his good intentions aside though, it's never been this hard to keep his hands to himself.

Kris' pajamas are barely hanging onto his hips, and the outline of his cock is taunting Adam mercilessly. Adam hasn't felt self-conscious about his body in a long time, but taking in Kris' naked torso and wondering at how perfect every line of him is, he has a second of panic that Kris wouldn't feel the same way—but then Kris' hands press against his chest and his heart starts beating madly for a completely different reason.

The urgency they were feeling in the hallway seems to have ebbed for the time being, and Kris' palms make their way down Adam's stomach, the calluses on his fingertips teasing Adam's skin as they go. Kris bites his bottom lip as one of his hands continues down (down, down) and cups Adam's cock over his jeans. Adam lets out a heavy, stuttering breath and pushes into the touch, which makes Kris grow bolder, pressing harder and dragging a finger along the line of the bulge.

Adam has to ball his hands into fists to keep from grabbing Kris and rubbing himself all over him.

Kris undoes the button of Adam's jeans with a flick of his fingers and pulls down the zipper slowly. Adam breathes hard and bites the inside of his cheek to hold a groan inside. Kris doesn't look up at him; he looks completely focused on the task at hand—which is a good thing, considering that Adam's pretty sure his face looks red and blotchy right now. A moment's hesitation and Kris' hand slides into Adam's underwear, palming his cock—hard, leaking by now—and wrapping his fingers loosely around it.

Adam can't keep the sounds in any longer and moans, "Yes," and pushes into Kris' hand, feeling his touch grow more confident by the second, watching Kris' chest heaving harder, his skin flushing darker. And this is it, Adam thinks. They're really doing this. They're not just making out, and neither of them is having second thoughts; they really are going to have sex.

That's when Kris looks up. His eyes are dark, pupils blown; he looks so turned on that Adam's cock throbs harder in sympathy. He licks his lips and nods to Adam, pulling his hand away to push down his pajamas along with his underwear, crawling backwards onto the bed and lying down, clutching the pillow under his head with both hands nervously.

Adam stops and stares. He knows he's only making Kris more nervous by just standing there, but he needs that one moment to take it in. Kris—naked in his bed, waiting for him.

"Adam," Kris says, sounding breathless, "the jeans."

"Right." Adam nods, pushing them down, never once taking his eyes off Kris as he undresses himself. Jeans, underwear, socks; then he's climbing on the bed, aligning their bodies and melting into Kris, perfect, warm, naked, touching everywhere.

They make out for what feels like forever, enjoying the sensation of their bodies sliding against one another, brushing in all the wonderful places. Kris likes holding onto Adam's hair, tight, pulling just enough to make him feel it. Adam loves Kris' scent, sweaty and musky, and he loves the sounds Kris makes when Adam sucks on his nipples, the way he arches his back and pulls Adam closer.

They're not going to last long, but Adam tells himself that it's all right. They can do it again and again and again. Later, he can teach Kris, show him everything he knows. They can take their time. Later.

"Tell me what you want," he says, consciously trying not to sound too commanding—but probably failing. Kris doesn't seem to mind. He has one leg wrapped around Adam's hips to keep him in place, and when Adam brings his hands up to hold them trapped over his head, Kris lets him. He searches for Adam's lips and licks his way into Adam's mouth, pulling back only to breathe, and he looks up to Adam with so much trust and want that Adam feels like he could come just from that look.

"You're so perfect," Adam tells him, biting his jaw, his neck. "Everything I wanted—you're—" He kisses Kris' lips again and again, and grinds his hips down, making Kris moan with abandon. "Tell me," he pleads. "You can have anything."

Kris' mouth opens and closes without a sound.

"You want me to suck you off?" Adam whispers, licking the corner of Kris' mouth. "I would love to suck you off."

Kris groans, strains against Adam's hands, and nods. "Yes. Yeah. Please."

Licking the bruise already forming on Kris' neck, Adam lets Kris' hands go and works his way down his body. He pushes up into Kris' hands when they automatically take their places back in Adam's hair, and leans in for a taste, sucking the head of Kris' cock into his mouth and swirling his tongue around.

"Oh, God," Kris moans, trying to push his hips up.

Adam holds him down and licks once more experimentally.

"Jesus Christ, Adam, don't tease, please—God."

Adam wants to make Kris thrash and moan, make him beg and sweat until the whole bed is soaked, and when he finally lets him come, Adam wants Kris to black out.

He wants their first time to be memorable.

But he also wants Kris to stop trembling. He wants Kris sated and pliant in his arms.

Their relationship has been one long tease up to this point, years and years where Adam could do nothing but sit on his hands. Now that it's in his grasp, Adam just wants to give Kris what he wants.

"Sssh, baby, I got you," he says, dropping a kiss on Kris' hipbone.

"Please," Kris begs, his voice low and hoarse.

No more teasing, Adam decides, and takes Kris in his mouth.

~

Adam watches Kris run a hand down his own chest, spreading Adam's come on his skin.

Now that the urgency's gone, Adam is having trouble grasping what has happened. This morning he was determined to take things slow, and now his come is all over Kris.

Not that there's any bad here. Kris and sex and Adam's bed and come—these things go perfectly well in Adam's head. He's just having trouble catching up to the fact that they now also go together in reality, that's all.

"I—um. Sorry for—you know, jumping you."

Kris looks at him with narrowed eyes, searching, then he looks down to his own come-covered fingers and puts them in his mouth.

Adam groans. That's not fair. How is he supposed to form sentences when Kris is lying next to him, tasting his come.

"Hmm," Kris says, looking intrigued by the taste.

Adam's mind provides a million different scenarios where Kris can taste more of it.

"You were going to tell me something," Kris says conversationally, as if he wasn't enacting a porn scene just now two inches from Adam's face.

It takes Adam a moment to comprehend what he means. "Oh. Right." He grins. "I got the part."

Kris beams back at him. "I told you so." He covers Adam's hand with his on the sheets. "We should celebrate."

"I thought we just did," Adam retorts.

Kris gives him a wicked grin. "Give me twenty minutes."

~

Later that night, spooned against Kris' back, Adam can't stop shaking long enough to pull out of him.

"Perfect," he mumbles into Kris' sweaty hair. "I knew you were—I knew all along."

Kris pulls Adam's hand up to his lips and kisses his palm.

Adam holds him tight until the shaking stops, and then he holds him some more.

The End

May 25th, 2011