Burn It Up

(Many thanks to Brynnmck for beta!)

Adam and Kris are real people but this is a work of fiction.

The closet is dusty and smells strongly of shoes and worst of all, it's a long ways from the door, which means Kris is still going to have to get all the way through the party before he can leave. But that's cool. What he will do is just not leave, ever, until it's quiet enough out there that he can be confident everybody's gone. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and something brushes his head. Flailing at it reveals that it's the pull-chain for an overhead light, which is also cool. At least there's light, he thinks. At least it's sort of peaceful in here. He feels a little crazy tonight, still charged up from the crowd at the show, his body not sure if it wants to be buzzed or exhausted. He can actually use the break, he thinks. Maybe he can write a new song while he's stuck in here: "The Sexual Harassment Blues". He hums a little walking blues riff under his breath and sighs up at the stacks of shoeboxes on the shelves above him. He's never ever been in a house where the people have this many shoes before. He wonders what they're all supposed to be for.

He's working out a bridge for the stupid song when the closet door suddenly opens a crack. Kris's heart ka-thumps in a dangerous-feeling way, but it's just Adam. He sticks his head inside, but then rolls his eyes and slides in the rest of the way in response to Kris's frantic motions, closing the door behind him. Kris doesn't ask how Adam knew where he was and Adam doesn't say anything, just crosses his arms over his chest and presses his lips together. But since Kris knows exactly what Adam's not saying, it totally doesn't help that he's not saying it. "She's Ed Geoffrey's wife, dude," Kris whispers. "And right now, I'm nobody. It is not a good time to make enemies."

Adam makes a face. "Kris, she stuck her fucking hand in your pants," he says. " I think that means you're allowed to object."

Kris scrunches his nose up and looks away. They've had this conversation already, and nothing's changed since it ended in a stalemate. Eventually, Adam lifts his eyes toward the ceiling and leans back against the wall, giving up. "Fine," he says softly. "Whatever. But you can't seriously spend the whole night in here, Kris. That's ridiculous."

Kris scowls. "What, then?" "You stick close to me," Adam says. "I'll keep a lookout and make sure she doesn't spot you. We'll spend a few minutes talking to people and then we'll get out of here."

Kris shoves a hand over his face, but then nods, agreeing, and starts toward the door. Adam stops him with a hand on his chest. "Hang on," he says, and he pulls the knit hat off Kris's head.

Kris frowns at him. "What are you doing."

Adam shoves the hat in his own back pocket and tousles Kris's hair, tugs at the front part of it. "We have to change your appearance a little," he says. "Like a disguise. Shut up, it'll totally work. I'm awesome at these kinds of things."

Kris lifts an eyebrow, skeptical. Adam ignores him, hands busy in Kris's hair. The music is a lot quieter in here. He can hear himself breathing. He can hear Adam breathing, too, soft and uneven, can see his chest move with it, making the silver writing on his t-shirt glimmer. "You know," Adam says after a moment, and then stops and exhales, his mouth pressed closed. He finishes what he's doing to Kris's hair, then puts a hand on Kris's shoulder, gives him a shake. "You really piss me off sometimes," he says, and he's smiling but he means it, too. Kris knows him well enough to tell.

"I'm sorry," he says reflexively, and Adam lets his head drop forward, laughing helplessly. Kris shoves at him, grinning, and Adam lifts his head, meets Kris's gaze. They look at each other for a moment and Adam lifts his eyebrows, the smile mostly gone from his face.

"Okay," Kris says, softly, holding Adam's gaze. "I get it."

Adam gives him one last shake. "You are not nobody," he says.

Kris huffs a laugh but he's flushed and he can feel it, and he can feel that restlessness again, too, like electricity under his skin. Adam is still standing too close and he looks like himself, like the Adam who sleeps with his face mashed into his pillow and does stupid cockney accents when things get tense, but he also looks a little bit like the guy who just blew the roof off a sold out stadium, singing Zeppelin like he meant it, rock star. Adam number one thinks Kris is cute and blushes when he's flirted with. Adam number two is…something else.

Kris swallows hard and he can feel Adam watching him do it, watching his throat move, watching his lips. He breathes out, a little nervously, and Adam drops his eyes, lifts his hand to scratch at the back of his own head. He starts to shift away from Kris and Kris thinks okay, that's probably a good idea, but somehow one of his hands seems to have closed itself around Adam's wrist and the other one seems to be fisted in the front of Adam's t-shirt and Adam's eyes snap right back up to Kris's face, heavy-lidded and assessing. "Kris," he says, and Kris nods and licks his lips.

It feels like it takes forever but that's probably just adrenaline, probably it's just a couple of seconds before Adam's mouth is on his, wet and warm and careful, Adam's palm a little rough against the side of his flushed face, thumb stroking his cheekbone. He moans into Adam's mouth and uses the hand in his t-shirt to pull him closer and Adam breathes out against his cheek, kisses him again, slides his other arm around Kris's waist. Adam's t-shirt bunches up a little when Kris slides his hand up Adam's chest and into the thick black hair at the back of Adam's head and he opens his mouth when Adam licks at his lower lip, pants out loud when Adam's teeth close on it instead, biting just hard enough to hurt.

They overbalance and stumble backward a little but there's nowhere to go except into the wall and there's probably going to be a bruise tomorrow but Kris doesn't care. He pushes closer to Adam, pulls him in harder, and Adam kisses his cheek and his temple and his lips again, hands everywhere, on his throat and his chest, unbuttoning Kris's shirt so he can push it back over Kris's shoulders, following his fingers with his mouth. Kris is breathing like he just ran hard for home, his fingers still threaded through Adam's hair, his head tipped back against the wall. Adam's sucking a kiss into Kris's neck just above the collarbone, his breath loud in the small space, his free hand sliding down around Kris's bare waist to the front of Kris's jeans, pressing in just hard enough through the denim. "Unh," Kris says, without meaning to, and his hips snap forward, pressing him harder into Adam's hand. "Yeah?" Adam says, breathless, lips still wet against Kris's skin, and Kris nods wildly when he gets that Adam's waiting for permission. Adam huffs a laugh. He pulls the button open one-handed, nips at Kris's shoulder and pushes his hand into Kris's open fly, palming his cock through his underwear.

There are voices outside the sliding door again, a woman laughing too loudly about something, a man's voice, low and amused. Kris closes his teeth on his lower lip, trying to keep himself silent, but Adam's shoving Kris underwear out of the way, halfway down his hips, and he's wrapping his hand around Kris's cock, big and warm, his mouth on Kris's again, kissing him deep and slow. Kris's knees give way but it's all fine, he's pinned between Adam and the wall and he's not going anywhere, his first gasp lost in Adam's mouth. Adam gives him a few sweet pulls and then slows down, breaks the kiss and moves his mouth to the side of Kris's face. He presses his lips to Kris's ear, nose nudging his temple, one hand spread on the small of Kris's back, under his shirt, holding him up. "I want to suck your cock," he whispers, mostly breath, careful to mute the esses. "But you can't make noise. Think you can manage that?"

Kris closes his eyes and nods and swallows because this is, this is. Fuck. Adam kisses his cheek, then kisses his mouth again, sweet this time, eyes closed. Kris pulls himself together enough that he can lift the hem of Adam's t-shirt and push at it, fumbling. Adam nudges Kris's hands away and squirms out of the shirt himself, lets it fall to the floor, leans in for one more kiss that ends up a moan when Kris slides his hands up Adam's bare sides and around his back, digs his fingers into the muscle there, pressing him close.

Kris thinks he might fall when Adam sinks to his knees; he throws an arm out and grabs one of the wire shelves on the far side of the closet and clings, fingers curling tight. Adam kisses Kris's hip and Kris clenches his other hand in Adam's hair, sucks in a desperate breath and nearly bites through his own fucking lip when Adam's mouth sinks all the way down on his cock. "Hnnnff," he says, and lets go of the shelf so he can put that arm over his face instead, bury his mouth in the crook of his elbow to muffle the sounds he seriously can't stop himself from making; Adam is swallowing around him, wet and messy and tight and perfect, and Kris is only human. But his back starts a slow slide down the wall without his grip on the shelf to brace him, his shirt catching on the drywall, bunching under his arms. Adam makes an impatient noise around Kris's cock and pins Kris's hips to the wall, holding him in place like Kris is, like it's easy or something, like it's a normal everyday thing to just do a thing like that. Kris lets his head fall back against the wall behind him and he hears the thunk it makes but doesn't feel it, doesn't feel anything but Adam's hands around his hips and Adam's mouth and Adam's breath, hot and getting louder, and just when he thinks he's going to lose it, Adam slows, then stills, then pulls his mouth away from Kris and wipes his chin on his own shoulder, still breathing hard.

"Huh," Kris says. He can't quite coordinate the things you need to make speech happen. Can't lift his head either, actually, or close his mouth.

Adam kisses Kris's cock and then his belly and then his hip, soothing the bruise Kris can feel is starting there. He unfolds himself from his crouch on the floor, pressing more wet, open-mouthed kisses to Kris's skin as he goes, his ribs and his left nipple, his collarbone and then his shoulder. "I want to watch you when you come," Adam whispers into Kris's neck. He pulls Kris's arm away from his face, pins it to the wall beside Kris's head and kisses his mouth again, deep and hot, and then he slides his other hand down into the tight space between them and wraps it around Kris's cock. Kris actually whimpers out loud and that means Adam's smiling when Kris comes, lips pressed against the sweaty hair at Kris's temple, not quite a kiss.

"Fuck," Adam says, his breath stirring Kris's hair. "Jesus, Kris." He kisses Kris's head and then his mouth again, wet and slow, sliding his hand down Kris's back, under his shirt and then lower, into the open waistband of Kris's jeans to cup his ass. They're kind of a sticky mess, Adam's bare stomach and the hand he still has between them, Kris's chest. "Here," Adam says, "wait." And he kisses Kris again then pulls away a little so he can swipe at them both with something soft. Kris manages to lift his head and peer down at himself long enough to see that the thing Adam's using is Kris's knit hat.

"Hey," he says, grinning, letting his head fall back against the wall. It isn't the most believable objection. Adam snorts and kisses him, still smiling. He pulls Kris's shirt closed over the imperfect cleanup job and does up the buttons, closes his jeans, too.

Kris can see how hard Adam is inside his own still-zipped jeans; he pushes himself up off the wall and curves his palm around Adam's cock through the denim, and Adam breathes out another "fuck" before he nudges Kris's hand away. "I want to get naked with you," he whispers, when Kris gives him a questioning look. "Think you can hang onto that thought until we get back to the hotel?" And he's asking a lot of stuff all at once right there, his eyes meeting Kris's, wide open and not hiding a thing.

Kris breathes out. He has no idea how any of this is going to work, but he rolls up onto the balls of his feet and kisses Adam because it is going to work, somehow. He needs it to. "Okay," he says, handing Adam his shirt. "Let's get out of here."