itsmadeofgold (itsmadeofgold) wrote,
itsmadeofgold
itsmadeofgold

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[Charity Fic] Between Two Lungs

Title: Between Two Lungs
Author: itsmadeofgold
Beta: The tremendous and stupendous norosegarden, who - much to my delight - continues to tolerate me for reasons unknown.
Word Count: ~4000
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Mention of infidelity (very much in passing), graphic sex (as implied by the rating), language (which shouldn't bother you if the graphic sex doesn't).
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and nobody is paying me. I come in peace.
Summary: It shouldn't be a big deal for good friends Kris and Adam to share a guest room at Tommy's beach house, but with the lights out there's more between them than just the dark.
A/N: This fic is shamefully overdue, and there's no apology strong enough to excuse it. Please believe I've been trying; my own mental block and stupid personal dramas led to the starting and scrapping of probably half a dozen stories in the last few months. That I've managed to finish one feels like triumph, even as I'm hating myself for how long it's taken. pulapunat, this one is for you, and I really hope you enjoy it. I'm so sorry for the absurd wait, and for telling you I was almost done only to have my story collapse again. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your donation, and your patience, and your understanding. ♥
A/N II: Title and cut text from the song "Between Two Lungs" by Florence + The Machine.
A/N III: Seriously, norosegarden is a saint for putting up with me. All praise to you, bb. ♥



Kris was awake in the dark. He lay on his side, both hands pillowed under his cheek like a little boy, open eyes staring at nothing. All of his focus and thought was behind him, on the other half of the queen sized bed, where Adam lay.

He was awake, too. Kris could hear his breathing, much too quick and shallow to be asleep.

It had been a very long time - more than two years now, Kris was painfully aware - since they’d shared a bed. Though both acted like it was no big deal when they had been informed of the sleeping arrangements at their friend’s beach house that evening, at the moment Kris felt so tense it seemed possible that he might not be able to sleep at all. If it was the same for Adam - if neither of them slept and instead spent the hours anxiously aware of each others’ every breath and movement - this night was going to be torturously long.

Kris sighed, and then Adam shifted his position. Kris felt the faintest draft on the back of his neck, his skin breaking out in goosebumps when he realized it was Adam’s breath - he had turned on his side, too, facing Kris’s back.

The last time they’d been in the same bed had not been the first - far from it. They used to nap together often and sometimes spend the night together, drifting off in one or the other’s bed while watching a movie, or settling in after a night spent playing games or just talking. It was easier than driving home in the middle of the night, they reasoned, and felt harmless - not to mention that they both enjoyed it, finding comfort in each others’ company. It hadn’t even been odd for them to occasionally wake up to find their limbs tangled, Kris’s head on Adam’s chest.

It wasn’t so long ago. It seemed so recent to Kris, in fact, that he felt like he was engaged in an active battle with his body now, willing it not to turn around and face Adam, not to reach back and touch him, to encourage him to move closer.

A few short years before, when they’d just been good friends who enjoyed spending time together whether awake or asleep, those gestures might have seemed innocent. Now, though, Kris had to be careful. Now there was a dangerous precedent between them. Now everything was different.

The last time Adam had fallen asleep beside him, Kris had woken up to find himself more than tangled - he’d felt intermingled with Adam, kissing him, his hands buried in his hair, their legs intertwined and locked together. He couldn’t remember how it happened, and since both were so enthusiastic - neither stopping to question it even once they were fully awake and aware - it didn’t seem to matter much who started it.

Deep down, Kris felt pretty sure it had been him. He remembered the dream he’d been having that night - he and Adam had been kissing under dark water, spinning in place like they were trapped a whirlpool. They couldn’t have pulled themselves apart if they wanted to, the forces of nature and physics plastering them together, but it wasn’t like they were trying to fight it anyway. Kris remembered feeling like he was drowning and not caring at all... and then suddenly he was back in his bed, wrapped all around Adam and disoriented, lightheaded, scared and euphoric.

Like he was drowning and didn’t care.

When it was over Adam had spent entirely too long in the bathroom, Kris getting ever more anxious as he waited for him. When he’d finally come out, his face was all crinkled up in something that looked like horror, sadness softening the edges. He stood in the middle of the room and stared at the bed instead of meeting Kris’s eyes, that grieved look on his face.

So, OK, Kris had had a girlfriend at the time - that was part of the problem. He’d never told her about his habit of sleeping with Adam, knowing she wouldn’t understand even though she had nothing to worry about - or, so he had believed, anyway. He felt bad about deceiving her - and now betraying her, as well - although he didn’t think he felt bad enough, and that was probably a sign that some changes were in order.

The cheating element didn’t fully explain Adam’s reaction, though; the way he panicked and withdrew.

He’d told Kris that he didn’t remember what happened, that he was sorry if it was his fault, and that the whole thing scared the shit out of him. Kris pointed out that neither of them had stopped it, so they were both equally to blame if there was blame to lay at all. At the time he’d thought there might be hope of spinning it as a good thing, for Adam to be happy. But, no, he just waved his hands in the air like he didn’t even want to listen, shaking his head forcefully.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, and stood to leave, pulling his pants on hastily and reaching for his shirt.

“Adam,” Kris had said, standing too, starting to reach out and then stopping himself. “It’s OK, really. Let’s talk about it.”

“It’s not OK,” he answered. “We’ll talk later.” And he’d walked out, just like that.

Kris sighed in the dark again, cutting it short and making himself cough a little when he realized every time he did that he let Adam know he was awake. It just kept the tension going longer; maybe if Adam would go to sleep, he could too. Maybe if Adam’s breaths got slow and steady, Kris could synchronize them with his own, like he used to, and find rest. He just had to focus on staying still and quiet.

But then Adam moved. He seemed to just be shifting a little bit - maybe stretching his legs - but Kris could swear he had moved closer. He felt another little gust on the back of his neck and his muscles clenched. Kris knew that if he scooted back - not even far, maybe just a foot or so - his body would find Adam’s. He willed himself not to do it.

He had to remind himself what had happened last time. He had to remember the damage that had been done, the state of their friendship now compared to before and the long climb even to get this far. He had to be strong if he wanted to keep Adam, even this much. If he hoped to get to sleep with him again, he had to prove that he could do it. He never wanted to see that anguished look on Adam’s face again.

But then - what if Adam had scooted closer just now? If Kris was right and he was still awake - and he was sure of it - that meant he had moved forward on purpose, meaning to, wanting to close the space. Maybe he hoped Kris would move back, meet him halfway.

Kris’s heart shuddered, then picked up speed.

Almost as a defense - a counterpoint - he abruptly remembered the day after that last time. Waiting for Adam to call, debating over whether to leave another message, hating himself for so many reasons, most of all for how not sorry he felt about it, when apparently it was the worst thing that had ever happened. Or so it seemed, judging by Adam’s reaction.

It had been weeks before Adam would really talk to Kris at all - for more than a few seconds before he suddenly had an urgent reason to get off the phone, anyway - and several months before they spent actual time together. It had been awkward at first, but Adam had slowly calmed down and relaxed, and they’d managed to find a comfort level between them again. It wasn’t what it had been before, of course, and the years of mourning the ease and intimacy they’d once had now seemed very long and dreary to Kris. Being friends with Adam in this new, careful way felt exhausting, and had always come with a certain level of frustration; stifled urges constantly buzzing in the background.

Being close to him like this now, so very close and alone in the dark, felt like a test he couldn’t pass, though he was trying. He knew a lost cause when he saw one, and he could feel his muscles twitching, wanting to move, unwilling to listen to reason or be deterred by the memory of Adam’s retreat the last time.

He wants me to do it, he thought, suddenly sure. He felt lightheaded, all his skin heating up as the absolute fact of it settled on him.

They’d both arrived today to spend the weekend, and they’d had a wonderful afternoon laying in the sand and talking - among their friends and just the two of them - joking and goofing around as they always did. By the time Tommy told them that he’d be giving Monte and Lisa one guest room and Kris and Adam the other - unless one of them wanted to take the couch - they’d all had a few margaritas and Kris had said “I don’t mind sharing,” with a grin before he could stop himself.

Adam’s face had gone blank for a moment, but it didn’t last; he rearranged it into a smile quickly, nodding with a light, “sounds good.”

But Kris remembered now with sudden clarity the last look before Adam had turned away. He had narrowed his eyes, he thought, and his face had darkened; there had been something there. Now that he watched the moment again in his mind, Kris thought maybe Adam had turned away - heading up the stairs and toward their room - in order to hide that look.

There had been an intensity there, Kris thought - intention.. He wasn’t testing their strength, Adam wanted to break, he wanted--

Kris stiffened as he felt movement behind him. There was a whisper-quiet scritch sound with the slide of skin across the sheets, and he realized it was Adam’s hand, crossing the space between them.

It stopped just short of touching, but Kris could feel it there; less than an inch away, a point of heat his skin wanted to move toward.

He wants me to, he thought again in the same moment that he was moving, his hands coming out from under his head and sliding down, pushing against the mattress just enough to shift his body the tiniest amount, to feel the soft resistance of Adam’s fingers through the thin cotton of his shirt. Kris exhaled, then heard and felt Adam do the same behind him as he moved his hand, sliding it up and under Kris’s t-shirt to rest his palm on the small of his back.

Kris was utterly still for a moment, holding his breath. He realized that Adam could almost certainly feel the pounding of his heart, the heat of his skin and the tension underneath. That one touch revealed everything - if there had ever been any secret to begin with - and Kris knew there was no point pretending anymore. He pushed on his hands again, moving back; Adam’s hand wound around, finding Kris’s belly and pulling him in closer still.

When Kris started breathing again it was in quick gasps, and he felt like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen to stay lucid. He felt Adam’s lips on his skin and every muscle seemed to spasm in response; he threw his head back.

“Is this OK?” Adam said, his lips moving across the back of Kris’s neck.

“Yes,” Kris said in a drawn-out whisper, the jerking of his hips, grinding his ass against the hard length of Adam’s cock through two layers of cotton reinforcing his consent. Adam groaned, diving back into Kris’s neck with more force, getting his teeth into it, making him hiss and writhe. It was partly the biting and partly the teasing friction below, the promise of what would come next.

The feel of Adam’s mouth on his skin was just as Kris remembered it and somehow even more lovely, maybe because he’d thought it had been lost forever. It was then Kris realized that if this was really happening - if they were really going to do this - then that meant he was going to get to kiss Adam. And if he was somehow lucky enough to find himself in a universe where he was allowed to kiss Adam again, he wasn’t going to put it off for one more second. He moved suddenly, bringing a surprised noise out of Adam as he flipped over in his arms to face him. The sound only lasted part of a second, though, as Kris sealed their mouths and silenced him. His hands moved up to bury themselves in Adam’s hair, his legs wrapping around to lock them together - just like the first time, and yet even better still.

Kris realized that there was no way in hell he could ever have been expected to resist this. It was too perfect, too much exactly what he wanted. There was nobody to blame - then or now - because there had never been any wrong done. There was only rightness here. Nature and physics and irresistible forces.

Adam began to mutter against Kris’s mouth, a tickling vibration that wasn’t quite enough for Kris to understand, although it felt like more. Kris wanted that, too, so he lifted his arms up above his head, breaking the kiss for just a moment so Adam could get the message. Adam moved fast then, pulling Kris’s shirt up and off and then freeing their legs long enough to strip them both of their pajama pants in what seemed like one motion. His own shirt was off in one last fluid slide of his arm and then he was back, pushing Kris against the mattress and laying on top of him, covering him with the length of his body.

The feeling of skin-on-skin, touching everywhere, brought Kris’s breath out of him in a quavering woosh; he sucked it back in again when Adam’s body rocked against him, sending shockwaves across his skin.

It seemed to go so fast, then, everything happening in a blur of skin and sweat, friction on hot skin, panted breaths and stifled moans. Kris lost track of time, of himself, his brain half present and half boggling; remembering how often he’d mourned Adam, the idea of having lost their closeness forever a constant sadness in the back of his mind for so long. It just didn’t jive with this sudden, new reality - the feeling of Adam’s slick, heated skin under his palms, the sound of his breathy groans in his ear, the painfully wonderful slide of his hard-on against his own - all of it so unexpected and wonderful that Kris almost wanted to laugh, to sing. He tried to focus, to relish every sensation in case it was all just a dream, but it seemed to be too much for his mind to take in and the moments went by with dizzying speed, seeming to trip over themselves until Kris felt like he was seeing a slideshow - snapshots of his experience as it passed him by.

Adam’s roaming palms settled on Kris’s ass, finally, kneading and touching at first and then moving in, one finger tracing around his hole as he arched up against him with a whine.

“I want to,” Adam said, little more than a breath, into Kris’s ear.

“I want you to,” Kris answered, quieter still.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then suddenly Adam was gone, scrambling off of Kris and to the edge of the bed. Kris made a noise of protest and propped himself up on his elbows, craning his neck to see what Adam was doing and finding him hanging half-off the side of the mattress. When he turned around to face Kris again, he sat cross-legged, smirking as he held up what he’d been reaching for: a tiny bottle of lube and a condom, barely visible in the moonlight.

“You planned this?” Kris said, smirking in return.

“I hoped,” Adam said, his smile shrinking, turning almost embarrassed. The dim blue light made his face all shadow and impressions - precious, adorable and sexy all in one, and Kris began to wonder again if he were dreaming.

“Come here,” he said, not willing to risk waking up before the good part.

Adam did as he was told, moving onto all fours and crawling toward Kris and then over him as he lay back on the pillows. His smile grew again, becoming a triumphant grin in the gloom for just a moment before it darkened, turning intense and determined as he moved in to kiss Kris again. One hand moved beneath him, wasting no time getting to work. Kris lifted his hips, whining as he felt the first touch circling lightly around his hole, getting firmer with each lap.

Suddenly the touch turned cold and wet as Adam drizzled the lube and Kris hissed, bucking, and then groaned louder than he intended when he felt one long finger slide in.

“Yeah,” Adam said, and Kris couldn’t agree more - yes, absolutely, this. YES.

There was that slideshow sensation again, time speeding up to a fast forward so blistering Kris only caught glimpses of his sweet life as it buzzed past. He ground his ass against Adam’s hand and realized there were two fingers inside of him and he wasn’t sure when that happened. His eyelids fluttered, his body moving in spastic rocking motion, and he glanced down to see Adam staring at him intently, his face dark and wanting, his hand stroking his cock.

“Hurry,” Kris said, or thought he did. “Want it.”

And then a second or a minute or an hour later he pushed down hard, gasping at the full feeling of three fingers, pushing down harder again, wanting more.

“Want it,” he said again, a hint of a sob in his voice that time. He felt like maybe he’d lost his mind, like if he wasn’t dreaming he might be hallucinating, experiencing a full break from reality. The only thing that felt real was Adam’s hand inside him and his own aching cock, his own need, his own sorrow at not feeling full enough. It was a torturous, wonderful, terrifying feeling and he wanted both to escape it and live in it forever.

It was the full-body, emotional equivalent of Adam himself - maddening, addictive, scary, beautiful.

“Patience,” Adam said, his voice something near a growl.

“Now,” Kris answered, almost petulant, his hips grinding desperately. “Enough waiting, enough. Enough. Now.”

And then there Adam was, pushing into Kris, hovering over him. Kris felt drips of sweat land on his face, mingling with his own. He panted with the pressure of being filled, holding his breath and staring up at the shadows of Adam’s face, tense and focused, his lips parted and dark in the low light. When they were flush Adam tried to hold his position but Kris wasn’t having it, his hips refusing to stop moving, begging Adam to do the same and meet him thrust for thrust.

“Gently,” Adam said, and Kris could hear the concern in his voice. He wanted to go but was worried for Kris. If Kris were capable at that second, he would’ve smiled at how sweet and thoughtful Adam was - but he wasn’t in the mood for touching gestures. Instead he wrapped his arms tightly around Adam’s neck, planted his feet on the mattress and pushed, maneuvering them with surprising finesse until Adam was on his back, Kris on top and straddling him.

He had wanted to do this forever. Every night alone in his bed, every shower, every frustrated moment this image came to mind: riding Adam. It had always felt painful - knowing he could never have it - but he could never stop that fantasy from haunting him, following him every day. Whether it was a dream or a psychotic break he was going to do it now, and he was going to make it count.

He rolled his hips, grinding down hard as Adam cried out, surprised. Kris would have, too, but the breath was knocked out of him by how good it was, how amazingly full he felt, the complete fucking glory of Adam’s cock inside him. It was better than he’d imagined, so he moved up on his knees, crashing down again even harder.

“Oh, fuck,” Adam said, his hands coming up to grip Kris’s hips, guiding him, his concern for his comfort now seemingly gone as he encouraged him to move harder, faster. Kris was happy to oblige, his skin on fire and dripping wet, his hair plastered to his forehead, his body rocking into, against, onto Adam’s over and over until he completely lost himself, a steady stream of gasps and babble flowing from his mouth as he got closer to coming undone.

He looked down at Adam and saw his open, panting mouth, his eyes rolled back, the veins standing out on his neck.

“God,” Kris said. “Oh, God.”

Adam answered with a long groan, and then, “Kris, I can’t.” It seemed like he wanted to say more but couldn’t get it out, only able to produce harsh moans.

Kris wasn’t sure what that meant, until he felt Adam tighten under him, his hips lifting him off the bed. It was the end for Kris too, then; the feeling of Adam pulsing deep inside him, the sight of his face contorted with something that looked like an impossible mix of pain and joy, the wonderful beauty of everything, everything, everything. He threw his head back, his chest heaving as he came with a shout, stars dancing in front of his eyes as he spattered Adam’s chest and belly.

It seemed to go on forever, like his body was trying to make up for lost opportunities, putting all the months and years of frustration into this one release. When it was finally over Kris felt like crying, collapsing against Adam with no concern for the mess, the sticky slide between them as they wrapped their arms around each other and tried to remember how to breathe.

A few minutes of silence passed, their frantic breathing slowing down, past normal and toward something near to sleep.

“Adam,” Kris muttered, the sound seeming much louder than it was in the silence.

“Hm?”

“You’re not going to freak out are you?”

Adam chuckled, jostling Kris on his chest. “No,” he said, then sighed, his voice sounding far-away and sleepy. “Sorry ‘bout that. Thanks for the second chance.”

“As many as you need,” Kris said.

Adam squeezed him tighter. “I will owe Tommy for this forever,” he said, then laughed again - one quiet, whispered chuckle.

“Me too,” Kris said, knowing it was true. They would have to thank him somehow, but he would think about that tomorrow.

He let himself go, then, sliding into sleep with the ease of the sated and secure. He knew now that he hadn’t gone crazy and he wasn’t dreaming - Adam would be there in the morning, and this would not be their last night together. He hadn’t known it was possible for years of pain to be erased in one evening, but it was, and his relief was incredible; his satisfied heart was ready to find rest now in a way it hadn’t for a very long time. He and Adam found it together, wrapped up and tangled, their breath coming and going in the same synchronized, slow rhythm.

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