The Family Way

aka the slutty babyfic

Kris checks the kitchen, the bathroom, and the balcony before opening the door leading to the master bedroom—because surely Adam wouldn't invade their friends’ bedroom—but no, there he is, pacing the floor between the plush, navy-blue armchair and the bed. He looks up when Kris enters, and stops in his tracks.

Kris closes the door and leans against it. "What's going on?"

Adam shrugs, shaking his head jerkily. It makes him look like he's having a seizure. "We have to break up."

Kris stops breathing. He's almost positive that his heart is not beating anymore. He wants to demand an explanation, but having no air in his lungs means he can't even make a sound. He stands there, perfectly still, waiting to suffocate.

This is… not as big a surprise as it should be. Kris did spend the first six months of their relationship waiting for Adam to grow tired of him. He hadn’t honestly thought that Adam would stay with him all that long. He’d waited for Adam to meet someone new, fall in love—Adam so loves falling in love—and forget about Kris. He hasn’t thought about all that for a while though; he’d thought he’d left those fears behind. But judging by the not-breathing thing he has going on, he really, really hadn't.

He can guess when it happened; must have been at that new club Tommy took him to the other night. Kris knew he should have gone with—but no, it's probably better this way. He doesn't want to know who’s gotten Adam's attention. The break-up will be painful enough; he doesn't need any more blows to his ego.

He can’t help but imagine it, though. It must be someone glamorous, like Tommy, or Brad. Someone who wouldn't stay at home to write lesson plans while his boyfriend is out clubbing. Someone who’d wear sparkly clothes, enjoy kinky sex, and drink colorful cocktails with colorful names.

He shakes the mental pictures away, trying to stand up straight and sound cool. "You met someone."

Adam's head snaps up, his hair flying back with the force of it. There’s no product in it today; it's uncharacteristically limp. "What?"

"It's okay..." Kris says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He's not going to let himself start playing with his shirttails; that's such an obvious tell. "It's okay if you met someone."

Adam makes a face. "What? No. That's not—"

Kris' heart starts beating again. That’s genuine surprise on Adam’s face. "Then what..."

"The baby!" Adam exclaims, arms flailing wildly.

"The—what? The baby?" That makes…absolutely no sense.

Adam, pacing furiously now, nods without looking up. “Yes. The baby.”

Kris thinks about it, turns it this way and that, but nope. It still doesn't make any sense. "You want to break up with me, because... Danielle had a baby?"

"No, not because—" Adam makes frustrated gestures that may or may not mean anything. Kris is way too frazzled to try and make sense of them right now. "Because you were holding her, and I just—" Running a hand over his eyes, he falls into the armchair, landing in a surprisingly dignified heap.

Kris steps closer. "And you just what?"

"…wanted that."

Okay. They’re getting closer, at least.

"You wanted to hold the baby?" Kris tries.

Adam hides his face in his hands. "No," he mumbles into them. "I wanted you to hold the baby. Not—not that baby. I wanted—" He looks up, eyes determined and a little crazy. "That's not the point. The point is, I can't be wanting babies right now. I'm not even thirty yet. What about my career? What about getting a record deal? This is just—not happening."

Kris tries to blink away the confusion. He’d held the baby because it's the polite thing to do. Plus she's really cute; Kris likes cute kids. But he hadn’t been about to run out of the room with her or anything. "You realize I don't want to have a baby?"

Adam looks surprised, which at least makes him look less crazy. "Why not?"

Kris considers the question carefully. Why not want the biologically impossible baby that his boyfriend is breaking up with him over? It’s a tough one.

“Let me get this straight. You want me to want to have a baby with you so you can break up with me over it?”

Adam starts to nod, but then stops, looking confused. “I wasn’t—”

This is why Kris had agreed to go out with Adam in the first place—even though he’d been intimidated as hell. The glamour, the bravado, the self-esteem and the confidence make Kris pause (still) and doubt how compatible they could possibly be, but then Adam’s brutal honesty and improbable naiveté peek out at the most unexpected moments, and Kris wants to hold onto him and never let go.

“I love you,” Kris tells him, stepping closer.

“I know,” Adam moans. “I love you, too. That’s the problem.”

Shaking his head, Kris climbs onto Adam’s lap, straddling his thighs and cupping his face to make him look up. “That’s never a problem.”

Adam gulps, looking nervous and panicked. “It is—when it means I want to turn my life upside down for it.”

Kris rubs their noses together. “And you think I’d let you?”

Adam exhales loudly. “You wouldn’t?”

Kris never thought he’d be so happy that his boyfriend is an idiot. “No,” he tells him. “I wouldn’t.” He kisses Adam’s lips—softly, carefully, making sure they both feel and savor the moment properly. “I want you just like this,” he says, pushing closer. The second kiss is a little more desperate, a little dirtier. “Crazy.” He nips at Adam’s plump bottom lip. “Beautiful.” A series of bites down to Adam’s collarbone, drawing a moan out of him. “Wild.”

“Kris.”

Adam’s hands tighten on Kris’ hips and pull him down, grinding their cocks together through two layers of denim. Kris groans into Adam’s neck and starts rocking against him urgently. He’s nowhere near ready to give this up yet—having sex three times a day, on every available surface in their apartment—and sometimes in other people’s apartments, too, which is something they probably wouldn’t do if they were responsible parents. It would just seem wrong.

Well. More wrong.

But anyway—even without considering the fact that they can barely take of care of themselves as it is, Kris is just not in a parent-like place in his life.

He is, however, in a very boyfriend-like place.

He licks Adam’s lips open and fucks his mouth with his tongue, hands scrabbling with the buttons of Adam’s shirt. Too impatient to unbutton more than half, he pushes a hand inside through the gap and caresses Adam’s side, gripping him around the waist and leaning in to bite his nipple. Adam jerks, surprised, then pulls Kris’ head closer, asking for more.

“When we get home,” Kris informs him, “you’re fucking me through the mattress.”

Adam moans. Loudly.

“I want you to fuck me really, really hard. Make me scream.”

Adam nods.

“And see, that’s why we don’t want babies.”

“But I do want—”

“No,” Kris shakes his head, pinching Adam’s already reddened nipple. “You don’t.”

“I don’t?”

“No.”

Kris pulls down the zipper of Adam’s stupidly tight jeans and works a hand in, cupping his dick and squeezing it in greeting before pulling it out and giving it a couple of firm strokes. Adam pants against his neck in loud, wheezing breaths. Kris unzips his own jeans—much easier to access­—and pulls his own cock out to press against Adam’s. He rests his forehead on Adam’s shoulder and stares down at the picture they make. Certainly not a Kodak moment, but definitely one of the sexiest things he’s ever seen.

He can’t believe he spent twenty-five years unaware of the possibility of having something this hot in his life.

And he seriously can’t believe that five minutes ago he’d thought he could give it up, if Adam wanted. He can’t. He won’t. And now he knows for a fact that neither will Adam. The man wants his babies. Literally.

“Here,” he says, bringing Adam’s hand up. Adam takes both of them in a tight grip—automatically, it seems—and Kris turns his attention back to Adam’s lips. “Jerk me off.”

Adam does as he’s asked. He’s a trooper like that.

“If you really wanna try and knock me up,” Kris pants, “we can just stop using condoms.”

Adam’s hand stutters on a down stroke and tightens uncomfortably.

“I doubt it’ll work, but still…” Kris says. “You’re welcome to try.”

Adam catches his mouth in a bruising kiss. “That would be awfully domestic of us.”

“Well. I said I won’t let you stop chasing your dreams. Never said anything about letting you chase tail out there.”

Adam chuckles, low and hoarse.

“You can go out and strut your stuff and then come home and be sickeningly domestic with me.” Kris grins. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

Adam stares up at him, looking serious and happy through the most brilliant blue Kris has ever seen—and oh, there he is. It’s the sane Adam again. Kris greets him with a playful kiss.

“Mmm,” Adam moans, leaning in for a second kiss, then a third, and pushes a hand down the back of Kris’ jeans while he’s at it, cupping his ass. “Where did you even come from, Kris Allen?” he mumbles.

Kris grins. He hasn’t heard that one in a while—not since maybe the first month of their relationship. He’s about to answer the question—who cares if it’s rhetorical?—but Adam decides just then to press a finger inside him, and that pretty effectively wipes Kris’ own name from his memory, let alone the name of his hometown.

It takes only a couple of seconds for Kris to come all over Adam’s fingers after that. It’s not the fastest Adam has ever made him come, but it’s definitely right up there in top five.

If he hadn’t just come his brains out, Kris might feel a little ashamed about that. Oh, well.

~

One of the things Kris loves about Adam is how comfortable he is to collapse on. It doesn’t work the other way around, because Adam tends to crush him, but when he’s on top, he enjoys taking his time getting off Adam’s chest.

But then sometimes Adam occupies himself with something creative as he waits for Kris to come back to the land of the living—involving his fingers, or his dick, or Kris’ ass, or on one memorable occasion, all three—and Kris ends up sobering up rather quickly.

Like right now, for example, there’s Adam licking Kris’ come off his fingers. Slowly.

Kris is pretty sure the sound he makes at the sight doesn’t have a name. He’s kind of grateful that it doesn’t, to tell the truth, because it’s something between a squeak and a moan, and he’s not exactly proud of it. Adam doesn’t laugh at him though, God bless his freaky soul; he just holds his hand out to Kris to share.

“Hmm,” Kris agrees, licking up Adam’s pinky and then sucking it into his mouth.

They really, really need to get home. Soon.

“Kris,” Adam says, sounding abrupt and slightly anxious. One look at his flushed face reminds Kris why.

“Oh,” he says sheepishly, sliding down onto his knees. He pushes Adam’s thighs apart and takes a moment to tuck himself in. He wants to be able to concentrate properly. When he looks up, Adam is holding his dick, breathing hard, and the look on his face is betraying his impatience, so Kris doesn’t torture him any longer. He leans forward and lets Adam brush the head against his lips, painting his mouth with pre-come until Adam’s breaths start turning into moans—and rather loud ones at that—and then Kris takes him in, fast and deep, the way he knows Adam likes it.

Adam’s fingers bury themselves in Kris’ hair, first petting and then tightening their hold. Kris relaxes and closes his eyes, riding the rocking of Adam’s hips, and when Adam pulls him in, Kris lets him fuck his mouth, hard and fast, hitting the back of his throat and sliding down even deeper, making noises that almost inspire Kris’ dick for a second round. But of course he’s not a teenager anymore, and the second round will have to wait until they’re home. He can enjoy this for now—driving Adam crazy, making him sound out of control, making him lose control. His throat begins to hurt, but Kris doesn’t pull back. A cup of tea will take care of that. It’s always worth it in the end to see the look on Adam’s face—satisfaction with a touch of awe. Kris is addicted to it.

Adam pushes in, again and again, pulling at Kris’ hair, just on the verge of hurting him, but not really—and then he’s coming with a loud groan, body shuddering once before slumping back in the chair, fingers going lax in Kris’ hair.

Kris rests his cheek on Adam’s thigh and gulps in air. He still has room to improve at this, but he’s happy to practice, really. He’ll perfect it one day. He’s a patient guy.

“We should probably—”

A loud wail coming from downstairs cuts him off.

“And that’s why we’re not having babies,” he tells Adam.

Adam grins, wide and satisfied, and pulls Kris up into his lap.

“But one day, right?” he says, trying his most charming smile on Kris.

Kris rolls his eyes. “Way in the future.”

“When I’m a rock star?”

Kris nods. “When you’re a rock star,” he confirms. “You need to be rich, so I can be a stay-at-home dad. And have at least two nannies at my beck and call.”

“Two?” Adam asks, turning Kris’ face up to lazily kiss his lips.

“They can work in shifts.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Adam says. “But okay. I’ll agree to your terms, if you agree to getting one of those.” He points to the rocking chair by the window, made of a dark wood.

Kris’ brow furrows. Why wouldn’t he agree to getting a—

Oh, of course.

“You’re thinking about having sex in it, aren’t you?”

Adam nods, a grin splitting his face. “It rocks.”

“You’re going to traumatize our baby,” Kris states, mock-serious.

Adam licks a stripe up his neck, slow and teasing. “I was actually thinking we could buy one today.”

“Huh,” Kris says. “We do have that empty corner in the bedroom.”

Adam hums into his collarbone happily.

The End

April 12th, 2010