Kris Allen: Worst Personal Assistant Ever
Mar. 3rd, 2011 10:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eirana_reganTitle: Kris Allen: Worst Personal Assistant Ever
Pairing: Kradam
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2,500
Disclaimer: It’s fiction.
Notes: ~2,500 words of porny porn for the sake of porn. This has no plot, this has no point.
Originally posted 1/9/10
~*~
Kris Allen likes his job. Sometimes.
As he attempts to knock on the door without having the haphazardly balanced stack of folders fall all over the place, he thinks that it’s moments like these when he doesn’t. Being Adam Lambert’s Personal Assistant - he can freaking hear the capitalization in people’s voices - isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. For one thing, Adam’s a workaholic and always busy, which means that as his assistant, Kris is also always busy. And always carrying around folders that start to slip at the same moment his glasses do. The second reason this isn’t all that…
Kris is jolted out of his thoughts at the “come in” he gets in response to his rapid knock. He fumbles for the door handle, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, where they belong.
The second he gets the door open, the folders are knocked out of his hands and they spill all over the floor in such a way that Kris just knows will be hopeless to organize properly. He barely has the time to stutter out a reminder to close the door - and lock it - before Adam has him pinned against the door. His hands are working on the buttons of his shirt, growling in frustration when they aren’t coming undone fast enough and tugging until almost all of his buttons are ripped off.
Thank God for soundproofed offices.
“Adam! That was my shirt!”
He makes a non-committal noise, nosing at Kris’ neck, licking and nibbling and biting until Kris can’t remember why he was upset in the first place. Adam’s in a mood, and when he gets like this, Kris knows that it’s hopeless to dissuade him. Not that he wants Adam to stop because - oh god - Adam’s so damn good at this. He gives a mournful glance to the folders on the floor and then sighs, giving in and baring his neck for better access.
Kris can feel Adam’s smile against his neck. He nips at him first, light little nibbles that tease more than they satisfy, but when Kris groans loudly and pulls Adam closer, asking for more without saying it, he bites harder. He starts sucking dark red marks onto his skin, trailing down to his chest, going onto his knees to unzip Kris’ slacks and pull them off. When Kris is finally bare before him, he sucks a mark onto his hip, smiling smugly at the breathy little whimpers that escape Kris when he presses down on the bruise, admiring the dark red blooming against his pale skin. Kris bruises easily. He’s going to see them tonight in the mirror and remember.
He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take, and Adam hasn’t even touched his cock. Hell, Adam’s still fully dressed; the only evidence that he’s been doing anything improper is his swollen lips and the obvious erection he’s sporting.
“Adam,” he breathes out, cringing at how desperate he sounds just from this, from Adam marking him all over. Before he can figure out what he’s asking Adam for, he’s being guided over to Adam’s mahogany desk. All the papers and assorted office paraphernalia are swept off the desk and Adam grips Kris’ hips and hoists him onto the desk, smirking when he has to wrap his arms and legs wrap around Adam to keep his balance.
Adam loves his nice, new mahogany desk, but not as much as he loves fucking Kris on it.
“Missed you.” His hands are everywhere, roaming all over the smooth skin before him, teasing his nipple into a hard peak before taking it into his mouth, eyes sparkling at how gorgeously Kris is writhing against him. He blows against the now-wet flesh and enjoys the quiver it earns him. “My desk doesn’t look as nice without you on it.”
Adam likes looking at Kris. He doesn’t understand the fascination, but the way Adam’s eyes rake over every inch of his body makes him feel hot and shivery; wanted. He feels like an offering just waiting to be taken.
“Turn over.” His hands are deceptively gentle as they remove Kris’ glasses.
Kris is still reeling from his touch, his tongue, his eyes, his scent. He feels like he’s drowning. He can’t clear his head and make sense of the words Adam’s saying.
When Kris doesn’t comply immediately, Adam’s eyes narrow. He moves closer, crowding against him and he can’t move away; doesn’t want to move away.
“Turn over, Kris. I won’t ask a third time.” Adam’s hands are brushing against his neck, fingers fluttering away after a brief caress. He’s touching Kris so tenderly, but he can see the tension just beneath the surface.
He turns over.
The desk is really nice. Nice enough that he feels kind of bad about how it’s been subjected to this kind of treatment almost every day since it’s been here. But then he feels Adam behind him, hands caressing his ass and going everywhere except where he really wants them.
Adam likes to draw things out, even when they don’t have the time for it.
“Adam-”
“Ssh. Don’t talk. Just let me look at you. You’re beautiful like this, you know. All spread out for me.”
“I-” It breaks off into a harsh moan when Adam pulls his cheeks apart, tongue flicking against him teasingly.
“Adam!”
“Mmm. You like it when I do this, don’t you?”
Adam doesn’t give him the chance to answer, going back to driving him insane with his mouth. He’s pushing back against him, asking for more with every twist of his hips and panting audibly. He can hear someone whining pathetically, and he realizes with a start that it’s him.
"You know, these windows aren't tinted."
"What?" He can't understand what Adam’s talking about because his hands and his tongue are driving Kris to the edge. Adam’s taking him apart slowly, so, so slowly, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can take this.
“We’re only on the second floor. It isn’t that hard to see, Kris. People can see you like this, on my desk, taking it so nicely for me. You like the idea of other people knowing that you’re mine?”
“Adam, please. I want…” His words trail off. Kris can’t get them out, but they’re there, in his head, and he fucking wants it; he wants it so damn badly. “Adam,” he tries again, and it comes out a whine, high and thin.
“What do you want, baby? What do you need?”
“More.”
“More what, Kris? I can’t give you what you want if you won’t tell me, baby. I know you can say it. You have the filthiest mouth when you aren’t thinking about it. Tell me. Tell me, sweetheart.”
“Adam, just, just more. Please. It’s not enough.”
“My tongue isn’t enough for you?” He goes back to work then, licking and sucking at him, and it’s good, but he needs-
“Give me your finger. Put it in me.” Kris pushes back, squirms against the hands gripping his hips. He jumps when he feels Adam pinch one of his cheeks before leaning down to bite at it. Kris tries to wriggle away, but Adam bites harder, sucking another mark onto him.
“Stay still.”
Kris does.
“Good boy,” he whispers against his skin.
Kris bites back the whimpers that want to escape when Adam finally pushes two slick fingers - because of course always prepared Adam has lube on hand - into him. It feels so good, that sharp tinge of pain mingling with the pleasure of being filled.
But it’s not enough.
Soon - much too soon - Kris wants more, and he’s pushing back against Adam, asking with everything but words. Words aren’t something Kris is good with - they make him blush and stutter and fumble - which means Adam loves to make him talk, to make him ask. Adam coaxes and teases and says gorgeously filthy things until Kris breaks.
“Need you. Now. Please.” He clenches down around the fingers inside him and hears Adam’s pained groan, feels his mouth on his other cheek - the one he hasn’t marked - biting down hard.
“Patience.”
Adam takes his time getting himself ready, unzipping his fly, getting the condom on. He keeps brushing the head of his cock against Kris’ hole teasingly, tempting him with the promise of more but not following through. It’s driving Kris insane.
Fuck this.
He twists until he’s facing Adam again, a spark of satisfaction going through him at the surprise on his face. That spark grows into a full-fledged flame when he wraps his legs around Adam’s hips and pulls him in, working that thick length all the way into his body.
Kris can’t bring himself to care about how loud that last moan was because it feels so fucking good to finally have Adam in him. He lets his head fall back, reveling in the overwhelming fullness filling him, hands moving up to clutch at Adam’s hair, running his fingers through the thick strands. So soft.
He winces when Adam grabs his wrists, pinning his hands to the desk and bending him back until he’s lying flush against the desk. Bodies aren’t meant to bend this far.
“You don’t control this. I do.”
“Adam-” he protests, because that’s what he’s supposed to do. But he likes it when Adam gets like this.
“Shut up.” He bites Kris’ shoulder, sucking another mark there, one of many decorating his body. “I know what you want, and you got it. But don’t forget, Kris, I’m in charge.” He pulls out so, so slowly, and this is both better and worse than Adam’s earlier teasing. He’s so full, but it’s still not enough. Adam is trying to make him beg, trying to push him even further.
That’s when the words start.
“You feel so perfect around me, you know that? You’re made for this. For me. Do you think anyone’s watching? Watching you and seeing how pretty you are taking my cock?”
The more he talks, the faster his hips, the rougher his thrusts until Kris is almost over the edge. They’re moving faster and he knows that after another week of this, this desk won’t look so new and shiny, but that doesn’t matter because Adam’s hitting all the right spots and he’s so fucking close it hurts.
He wants to touch himself, fuck his hand until he spills all over his stomach and Adam’s expensive silk shirt, but his hands are still trapped in Adam’s grip, harsh and unrelenting.
“Adam, can you, can you-” He stops, heat flooding his face. Even now, he can’t say it. He moves a little closer, rubbing his aching cock against Adam’s shirt, and the hold on his hands gets a little tighter.
“What do you want, Kris? I’m not a mind-reader.”
“I need more.”
“You always need more. You’re such a slut, Kris. So fucking hungry for it.”
“Adam, please,” he asks, and he’s outright begging him now.
“No. You’re going to come just. From. This.”
God, how does Adam know how to move his hips in just the right way to make him lose his mind?
Kris thinks he’s saying please, over and over again. He’s saying so many things, so many lewd, filthy things, and if he was thinking straight, he’d be mortified, but he can’t think. He can’t think anything other than “please” and “more” and “Adam”.
“I know. I know you want it. But you’ll have to do it without any help. You can do that for me, can’t you, Kris? Come for me.”
“I…”
“Do it. Come on. Come for me. Now.”
That statement’s accompanied by a rough thrust, and Kris breaks. He falls over the edge and he messes up Adam’s expensive silk shirt and the not-so-shiny, new mahogany desk but he doesn’t fucking care because he feels like he’s flying.
Kris lies there, blissed out and spent, lets Adam finish because he’s always so good to Kris.
After, Adam ties off the condom and throws it away, grimacing at the silk shirt before taking it off and wandering to a cabinet. Kris still thinks it's weird - no matter how practical - that Adam keeps extra clothes here. Then again, Kris is usually the only one who ends up completely naked so the extra clothes thing isn't really an issue.
Adam gets dressed, and when he's done, he cleans Kris up, teasing him a little because Kris squirms delightfully and he's so pretty on his desk, relaxed and floating in the afterglow. He sighs a little when Adam puts his glasses back on, brushing a soft kiss against his lips. He helps him off the desk and Kris starts picking his clothes up from where they'd been thrown on the floor.
“So, what did you want to see me about?”
“Umm…” Well, fuck. Kris can’t remember. “It’s in those files,” he says, making a vague gesture at the folders scattered on the floor.
“Right.” Adam gives him a look that’s equal parts fondness and exasperation. “Worst assistant ever. Don’t know why I keep you around.”
Ha-ha.
“If you hadn’t jumped me the second I walked in here,” Kris starts, because they’re done for now so he’s allowed to say things like that, but stops when he sees the blush starting to spread across Adam’s face.
Interesting.
“Why did you jump me? You usually wait until I’ve at least set down whatever I’m holding and made sure the door's locked.”
“About that…”
No way in hell, Lambert.
“Adam.”
Adam’s nervous. But why?
Kris watches him, waiting and he starts mumbling, words Kris can’t catch. Except for “glasses”.
“Wait, what?”
The blush darkens, and if Kris didn’t know any better, he’d think Adam was cute and harmless; like a bunny.
“I said,” he spits out from between gritted teeth, “I couldn’t help myself when I saw you were wearing those stupid glasses.”
Kris stares at him for a long moment, and Adam feels like all the breath has been sucked out of him. Until Kris starts laughing, loudly and gleefully.
“This isn’t funny!”
“The hell it isn’t!” He’s still giggling so Adam can barely understand him, but he gets the message loud and clear.
“Worst. Assistant. Ever.”
“You know I’m the best damn assistant you’ve ever had. I’m incredibly efficient when you aren’t bending me over your desk.”
Adam rolls his eyes at him because, really? “You’re lame. Go back to work! There’s a pile of folders waiting to be organized with your name on it.”
Kris sighs. “Yes, sir.”
He bends down to pick up all the files, cringing at the thought of all the work awaiting him. He’s about to leave when Adam stops him, a hand on the small of his back.
“Oh, and Kris?”
“Yes, sir?”
He leans in, hot breath ghosting across Kris’ neck. “Come back during your lunch break.”
It’s not his boss voice, it’s the other voice, the one he uses when they’re alone.
“Yes, sir.”
Adam’s pleased smile - along with a light kiss to the dark red mark peeking out from his shirt collar - makes him flush as he scurries out the door.
Sometimes, Kris Allen loves his job.
End.
Pairing: Kradam
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2,500
Disclaimer: It’s fiction.
Notes: ~2,500 words of porny porn for the sake of porn. This has no plot, this has no point.
Originally posted 1/9/10
~*~
Kris Allen likes his job. Sometimes.
As he attempts to knock on the door without having the haphazardly balanced stack of folders fall all over the place, he thinks that it’s moments like these when he doesn’t. Being Adam Lambert’s Personal Assistant - he can freaking hear the capitalization in people’s voices - isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. For one thing, Adam’s a workaholic and always busy, which means that as his assistant, Kris is also always busy. And always carrying around folders that start to slip at the same moment his glasses do. The second reason this isn’t all that…
Kris is jolted out of his thoughts at the “come in” he gets in response to his rapid knock. He fumbles for the door handle, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, where they belong.
The second he gets the door open, the folders are knocked out of his hands and they spill all over the floor in such a way that Kris just knows will be hopeless to organize properly. He barely has the time to stutter out a reminder to close the door - and lock it - before Adam has him pinned against the door. His hands are working on the buttons of his shirt, growling in frustration when they aren’t coming undone fast enough and tugging until almost all of his buttons are ripped off.
Thank God for soundproofed offices.
“Adam! That was my shirt!”
He makes a non-committal noise, nosing at Kris’ neck, licking and nibbling and biting until Kris can’t remember why he was upset in the first place. Adam’s in a mood, and when he gets like this, Kris knows that it’s hopeless to dissuade him. Not that he wants Adam to stop because - oh god - Adam’s so damn good at this. He gives a mournful glance to the folders on the floor and then sighs, giving in and baring his neck for better access.
Kris can feel Adam’s smile against his neck. He nips at him first, light little nibbles that tease more than they satisfy, but when Kris groans loudly and pulls Adam closer, asking for more without saying it, he bites harder. He starts sucking dark red marks onto his skin, trailing down to his chest, going onto his knees to unzip Kris’ slacks and pull them off. When Kris is finally bare before him, he sucks a mark onto his hip, smiling smugly at the breathy little whimpers that escape Kris when he presses down on the bruise, admiring the dark red blooming against his pale skin. Kris bruises easily. He’s going to see them tonight in the mirror and remember.
He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take, and Adam hasn’t even touched his cock. Hell, Adam’s still fully dressed; the only evidence that he’s been doing anything improper is his swollen lips and the obvious erection he’s sporting.
“Adam,” he breathes out, cringing at how desperate he sounds just from this, from Adam marking him all over. Before he can figure out what he’s asking Adam for, he’s being guided over to Adam’s mahogany desk. All the papers and assorted office paraphernalia are swept off the desk and Adam grips Kris’ hips and hoists him onto the desk, smirking when he has to wrap his arms and legs wrap around Adam to keep his balance.
Adam loves his nice, new mahogany desk, but not as much as he loves fucking Kris on it.
“Missed you.” His hands are everywhere, roaming all over the smooth skin before him, teasing his nipple into a hard peak before taking it into his mouth, eyes sparkling at how gorgeously Kris is writhing against him. He blows against the now-wet flesh and enjoys the quiver it earns him. “My desk doesn’t look as nice without you on it.”
Adam likes looking at Kris. He doesn’t understand the fascination, but the way Adam’s eyes rake over every inch of his body makes him feel hot and shivery; wanted. He feels like an offering just waiting to be taken.
“Turn over.” His hands are deceptively gentle as they remove Kris’ glasses.
Kris is still reeling from his touch, his tongue, his eyes, his scent. He feels like he’s drowning. He can’t clear his head and make sense of the words Adam’s saying.
When Kris doesn’t comply immediately, Adam’s eyes narrow. He moves closer, crowding against him and he can’t move away; doesn’t want to move away.
“Turn over, Kris. I won’t ask a third time.” Adam’s hands are brushing against his neck, fingers fluttering away after a brief caress. He’s touching Kris so tenderly, but he can see the tension just beneath the surface.
He turns over.
The desk is really nice. Nice enough that he feels kind of bad about how it’s been subjected to this kind of treatment almost every day since it’s been here. But then he feels Adam behind him, hands caressing his ass and going everywhere except where he really wants them.
Adam likes to draw things out, even when they don’t have the time for it.
“Adam-”
“Ssh. Don’t talk. Just let me look at you. You’re beautiful like this, you know. All spread out for me.”
“I-” It breaks off into a harsh moan when Adam pulls his cheeks apart, tongue flicking against him teasingly.
“Adam!”
“Mmm. You like it when I do this, don’t you?”
Adam doesn’t give him the chance to answer, going back to driving him insane with his mouth. He’s pushing back against him, asking for more with every twist of his hips and panting audibly. He can hear someone whining pathetically, and he realizes with a start that it’s him.
"You know, these windows aren't tinted."
"What?" He can't understand what Adam’s talking about because his hands and his tongue are driving Kris to the edge. Adam’s taking him apart slowly, so, so slowly, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can take this.
“We’re only on the second floor. It isn’t that hard to see, Kris. People can see you like this, on my desk, taking it so nicely for me. You like the idea of other people knowing that you’re mine?”
“Adam, please. I want…” His words trail off. Kris can’t get them out, but they’re there, in his head, and he fucking wants it; he wants it so damn badly. “Adam,” he tries again, and it comes out a whine, high and thin.
“What do you want, baby? What do you need?”
“More.”
“More what, Kris? I can’t give you what you want if you won’t tell me, baby. I know you can say it. You have the filthiest mouth when you aren’t thinking about it. Tell me. Tell me, sweetheart.”
“Adam, just, just more. Please. It’s not enough.”
“My tongue isn’t enough for you?” He goes back to work then, licking and sucking at him, and it’s good, but he needs-
“Give me your finger. Put it in me.” Kris pushes back, squirms against the hands gripping his hips. He jumps when he feels Adam pinch one of his cheeks before leaning down to bite at it. Kris tries to wriggle away, but Adam bites harder, sucking another mark onto him.
“Stay still.”
Kris does.
“Good boy,” he whispers against his skin.
Kris bites back the whimpers that want to escape when Adam finally pushes two slick fingers - because of course always prepared Adam has lube on hand - into him. It feels so good, that sharp tinge of pain mingling with the pleasure of being filled.
But it’s not enough.
Soon - much too soon - Kris wants more, and he’s pushing back against Adam, asking with everything but words. Words aren’t something Kris is good with - they make him blush and stutter and fumble - which means Adam loves to make him talk, to make him ask. Adam coaxes and teases and says gorgeously filthy things until Kris breaks.
“Need you. Now. Please.” He clenches down around the fingers inside him and hears Adam’s pained groan, feels his mouth on his other cheek - the one he hasn’t marked - biting down hard.
“Patience.”
Adam takes his time getting himself ready, unzipping his fly, getting the condom on. He keeps brushing the head of his cock against Kris’ hole teasingly, tempting him with the promise of more but not following through. It’s driving Kris insane.
Fuck this.
He twists until he’s facing Adam again, a spark of satisfaction going through him at the surprise on his face. That spark grows into a full-fledged flame when he wraps his legs around Adam’s hips and pulls him in, working that thick length all the way into his body.
Kris can’t bring himself to care about how loud that last moan was because it feels so fucking good to finally have Adam in him. He lets his head fall back, reveling in the overwhelming fullness filling him, hands moving up to clutch at Adam’s hair, running his fingers through the thick strands. So soft.
He winces when Adam grabs his wrists, pinning his hands to the desk and bending him back until he’s lying flush against the desk. Bodies aren’t meant to bend this far.
“You don’t control this. I do.”
“Adam-” he protests, because that’s what he’s supposed to do. But he likes it when Adam gets like this.
“Shut up.” He bites Kris’ shoulder, sucking another mark there, one of many decorating his body. “I know what you want, and you got it. But don’t forget, Kris, I’m in charge.” He pulls out so, so slowly, and this is both better and worse than Adam’s earlier teasing. He’s so full, but it’s still not enough. Adam is trying to make him beg, trying to push him even further.
That’s when the words start.
“You feel so perfect around me, you know that? You’re made for this. For me. Do you think anyone’s watching? Watching you and seeing how pretty you are taking my cock?”
The more he talks, the faster his hips, the rougher his thrusts until Kris is almost over the edge. They’re moving faster and he knows that after another week of this, this desk won’t look so new and shiny, but that doesn’t matter because Adam’s hitting all the right spots and he’s so fucking close it hurts.
He wants to touch himself, fuck his hand until he spills all over his stomach and Adam’s expensive silk shirt, but his hands are still trapped in Adam’s grip, harsh and unrelenting.
“Adam, can you, can you-” He stops, heat flooding his face. Even now, he can’t say it. He moves a little closer, rubbing his aching cock against Adam’s shirt, and the hold on his hands gets a little tighter.
“What do you want, Kris? I’m not a mind-reader.”
“I need more.”
“You always need more. You’re such a slut, Kris. So fucking hungry for it.”
“Adam, please,” he asks, and he’s outright begging him now.
“No. You’re going to come just. From. This.”
God, how does Adam know how to move his hips in just the right way to make him lose his mind?
Kris thinks he’s saying please, over and over again. He’s saying so many things, so many lewd, filthy things, and if he was thinking straight, he’d be mortified, but he can’t think. He can’t think anything other than “please” and “more” and “Adam”.
“I know. I know you want it. But you’ll have to do it without any help. You can do that for me, can’t you, Kris? Come for me.”
“I…”
“Do it. Come on. Come for me. Now.”
That statement’s accompanied by a rough thrust, and Kris breaks. He falls over the edge and he messes up Adam’s expensive silk shirt and the not-so-shiny, new mahogany desk but he doesn’t fucking care because he feels like he’s flying.
Kris lies there, blissed out and spent, lets Adam finish because he’s always so good to Kris.
After, Adam ties off the condom and throws it away, grimacing at the silk shirt before taking it off and wandering to a cabinet. Kris still thinks it's weird - no matter how practical - that Adam keeps extra clothes here. Then again, Kris is usually the only one who ends up completely naked so the extra clothes thing isn't really an issue.
Adam gets dressed, and when he's done, he cleans Kris up, teasing him a little because Kris squirms delightfully and he's so pretty on his desk, relaxed and floating in the afterglow. He sighs a little when Adam puts his glasses back on, brushing a soft kiss against his lips. He helps him off the desk and Kris starts picking his clothes up from where they'd been thrown on the floor.
“So, what did you want to see me about?”
“Umm…” Well, fuck. Kris can’t remember. “It’s in those files,” he says, making a vague gesture at the folders scattered on the floor.
“Right.” Adam gives him a look that’s equal parts fondness and exasperation. “Worst assistant ever. Don’t know why I keep you around.”
Ha-ha.
“If you hadn’t jumped me the second I walked in here,” Kris starts, because they’re done for now so he’s allowed to say things like that, but stops when he sees the blush starting to spread across Adam’s face.
Interesting.
“Why did you jump me? You usually wait until I’ve at least set down whatever I’m holding and made sure the door's locked.”
“About that…”
No way in hell, Lambert.
“Adam.”
Adam’s nervous. But why?
Kris watches him, waiting and he starts mumbling, words Kris can’t catch. Except for “glasses”.
“Wait, what?”
The blush darkens, and if Kris didn’t know any better, he’d think Adam was cute and harmless; like a bunny.
“I said,” he spits out from between gritted teeth, “I couldn’t help myself when I saw you were wearing those stupid glasses.”
Kris stares at him for a long moment, and Adam feels like all the breath has been sucked out of him. Until Kris starts laughing, loudly and gleefully.
“This isn’t funny!”
“The hell it isn’t!” He’s still giggling so Adam can barely understand him, but he gets the message loud and clear.
“Worst. Assistant. Ever.”
“You know I’m the best damn assistant you’ve ever had. I’m incredibly efficient when you aren’t bending me over your desk.”
Adam rolls his eyes at him because, really? “You’re lame. Go back to work! There’s a pile of folders waiting to be organized with your name on it.”
Kris sighs. “Yes, sir.”
He bends down to pick up all the files, cringing at the thought of all the work awaiting him. He’s about to leave when Adam stops him, a hand on the small of his back.
“Oh, and Kris?”
“Yes, sir?”
He leans in, hot breath ghosting across Kris’ neck. “Come back during your lunch break.”
It’s not his boss voice, it’s the other voice, the one he uses when they’re alone.
“Yes, sir.”
Adam’s pleased smile - along with a light kiss to the dark red mark peeking out from his shirt collar - makes him flush as he scurries out the door.
Sometimes, Kris Allen loves his job.
End.
