A Little More Poetry

Title: Under Your Skin
Author: Kerry ~Aja (orlandoobsessive@yahoo.co.uk)
Pairing: Craig Parker/Adam Levine (Singer/Songwriter, Maroon 5)
Rating: PG13
Feedback: Always very much appreciated.
Disclaimer: Not true. Not claiming it to be anything but lies.
Summary: "Said you could use a little more poetry in your life."
Note: For the July LimeySugar challenge. Inspired by the (brilliant fantastic wonderful) Maroon 5 album, "Songs About Jane." The challenge: LOTR actor with a celebrity who isn't an actor. Word: Salt. Theme: First meetings. Body part: snail trail (hair trail on abdomen. ~L~)


Under Your Skin

"If all that we do is just a parody of what's been done before, then isn't life just one continuing parody of itself?"

"Somehow it makes sense that you share a name with the first man on earth."

"Why?" Adam asks.

"You've got the meaning of life all figured out."

Adam smiles, and though he isn't trying to be mysterious, Craig's still left wondering.

=/=

Inside the faceless building, a person could forget where they were. Or why they were there. Craig isn't fond of forgetting things, so he opens the door to a blast of clarity wrapped in cool air. There's an ageless expanse of darkness overhead and something more threatening beyond the hotel's garden walls. Craig licks his lips and tastes the salt. Margaritas. The ocean, nearby. Sweat.

"Meaning of life, right?"

Out of the shadows he emerges. Craig hadn't seen him, has to look again because he doesn't quite trust his senses. His heart's not done the cliched thing of leaping into his throat. It's just beating on, as normal.

"Harry introduced us," Craig says. Which is a bit redundant, because Adam was there. He knows.

"I'd met him before. Connections." Adam looks over his shoulder, half turns his body back towards the low wall. He must have been looking out at the sea, Craig thinks. "He told me about you. Said you could use a little more poetry in your life."

Craig can't help but nod. "I suppose he's right."

"Let me tell you a secret."

Craig moves closer, because that's what secrets are all about. Closeness. Intimacy. He braces his left hand on the wall, the other shoved deep into his pocket to keep a hold on his own secrets.

"I don't have life all figured out."

Craig remembers saying that to him the first time they met. He's aware of his brow creeping upward in surprise. "Does that make me a bad judge of character?" he asks, not wanting the answer to be yes.

Adam laughs, the intimacy broken as he swivels his body around again, leans his arms on the wall. "It just makes you judgemental," he says, still grinning.

"I don't think that's any better."

"Maybe not." Adam taps his fingers on loose stone, looks sidelong at Craig. "Tell me your name."

Craig frowns. He was sure Harry had already done that. True, some time ago, but he had. Though he wouldn't blame Adam for forgetting. "Craig," he says.

"Good effort."

Before Craig can ask what he means, Adam has him trapped against the wall, thighs pressed tight to his. "Craig." He breathes the name, eyes half-closed in a stunning imitation of reverence.

"God.." Craig feels like he's sinking.

"Wasn't that better?"

He's pulling away, stepping back, and Craig wants to reach for him but doesn't because he's not sure that it's right.

=/=

Craig's body has been aching for a certain touch, so the instant it comes, he knows. He could be blind, and he would know. It's not even a purposeful touch, just a light brush of the hand over his shoulder as Adam reaches for a packet of salt He He watches callused fingers pinch around the paper sachet, fingers he didn't really look at before.

"It's bad for your heart, you know."

"Only in excess," Craig replies, lifts his head and tilts his gaze to eyes that are so grey they're almost violet.

"True. Are you here to lie in wait for me?" Adam slides with ease into the seat opposite Craig's, still holding the sachet.

"No. Not really." Craig picks up another packet, tearing it open and shaking a little salt onto his salad.

"You're just here because you're here."

"Yes, I am." Craig picks up his fork. "Do you feel like every time we meet, it's for the first time?" He's not sure where that came from.

"Do you?"

Craig bites the bullet. "Yes. Or maybe I'm just hoping that it won't be the last time."

"It won't be." Adam reaches across the table, doesn't ask permission before taking a slice of tomato from Craig's plate, seems to assume it would be given.

"You told me you would give me poetry," Craig says quietly, thinking 'it won't be.'

"I am." Adam holds the tomato slice up, looks at it in deep concentration. "It doesn't have to be about spilling letters onto paper and making sure each word fits to the one before and the one that comes after. What good are words if they're just.. words?"

"I'm not asking you to wax lyrical about a piece of salad," Craig points out, trying to keep the laughter from his voice.

"Good job, too. I'm hungry." Adam sucks the tomato between his smiling teeth and chews. Craig watches his throat working as he swallows. "Tell me something about you."

"I like to share my dinner with people I hardly know."

Adam grins, giving Craig a pointed stare. "Something else."

Craig shrugs and puts down his fork, which Adam immediately picks up. "I'll buy you another," he promises, pulling the plate towards him.

"Is that your way of asking me to dinner?"

"Can't do that if we're already here," Adam replies.

Craig's been meaning to ask exactly what he's doing here anyway. He suspects Harry has something to do with it.

"But that's beside the point," Adam goes on. "We're talking about you."

"Alright then. I want you to ask me to dinner."

Adam eats in silence for a few minutes, making no great show of it even though Craig's watching him intently. Finally, he lays the fork carefully on the plate and pushes his chair back. "Time to begin a new stanza," he says, and leans close to touch his lips to Craig's cheek. "Tomorrow. I'm staying with friends over he" he" he explains, while Craig's cheek burns. "I'll see you tomorrow night. For dinner." He winks, and leaves the table. Craig exhales a breath he forgot he was holding.

=/=

Craig's dressing, listening to the CD of Adam's band that he got the day after they met. He's opted for dark jeans and a loose-fitting shirt, because he's not sure where they'll be going. He runs a comb through still-damp hair then sits on the edge of his bed just to absorb the music.

He decides Adam sounds a lot different when he's singing. Less guarded, like he's sharing all of his secrets. Which Craig supposes is true. The songs are just poetry taken a step further.

Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rings. Craig tries not to walk too fast to open it. Adam's face is hidden behind a bouquet of roses, which he lowers after a moment. "Hi."

"Roses? Now that is poetic," Craig says, smiling.

"Are you sure you're not confusing poetry with romance?"

Craig shakes his head, laughing, and takes the roses. "Thankyou, Adam. Come on in."

"You're not going to ask how I found this place?" Adam follows Craig inside and to the kitchen.

"Connections," Craig tells him, the corner of his mouth still quirked.

Adam grins, leans back against the sideboard while Craig fills a glass jug with water for the roses. "Yes, our mutual friend. He's extremely helpful."

Craig touches a petal of one of the flowers. "Romance?"

"It's like salt. Does you good, in small doses."

"But an excess is bad for you?"

"I think so. So I'm not going to tell you that you look utterly gorgeous. Or that you smell," Adam moves closer, presses his nose into Craig's neck, "positively edible."

Craig shivers as Adam inhales, shivers again when he steps away.

"Ready to go?"

"Mm. Yeah, sure, let me get my wallet and-"

"You won't need" A" Adam interrupts, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door. "Trust me."

=/=

Craig's still protesting when they pull up outside a pub. Nice looking place, Craig thinks. He realises he's not been there before, and wonders how Adam knows about it.

"Come on, Craig. Forget about everything. Just think about... me." Adam smiles brightly and leans across to click Craig's selt llt loose. Craig catches his wrist before he can move his hand away, lifts it to his lips. He doesn't kiss, instead swipes his tongue across Adam's knuckles, watching the other man's pupils dilate a little in response.

"Hmm. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Like life," Craig replies, letting go of Adam's wrist. He moves his arm, the belt sliding back into place, and opens his door. Immediately he can hear the muted bass of someone speaking into a mic and he looks over his shoulder at Adam. "Sounds busy."

"There's a band playing tonight," Adam tells him, concentrating for a moment on locking the car door.

"Ah." Craig feels like he shouldn't be disappointed. He just couldn't help hoping it'd be more of a quiet dinner for two. A chance for him to get to know Adam better.

"Don't look so worried. I heard they're pretty good."

=/=

"Okay," Craig admits, after hearing a couple of songs. "They are pretty good."

"Of course they are. You should trust me, Craig. I'm not here to lie to you."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Ah! Food." Adam sits back in his seat as the waitress sets down each plate. Both men ordered the same thing: corn fried chicken, salad and new potatoes, all swimming in melted butter. "Looks good enough to eat," Adam says, staring directly at Craig. The waitress just giggles softly and moves away, wishing them a pleasant meal.

Another song begins. It's not too loud or pushy, which Craig's thankful for. At least he can hear what Adam's saying when he speaks. It doesn't seem to matter though, because Adam eats quietly, hardly says a word to Craig until his meal is finished.

"Ever been to the circus?" he asks. One of his out-of-nowhere questions.

"I.. Yes. Not since I was a kid, though. Why?"

"There's a circus in town next weekend. May I take you?"

"Well.. Of course."

"Because, you know, the most wasted of all days is one without laughter."

"Adam Levine?"

"Cummings, the poet. I'm too scruffy to be a philosopher."

Craig's about to argue, recalling the very first time they met, but Adam doesn't give him the chance.

"Just scruffy enough to be a poet."

"Well, I'll agree with that," Craig says. His lashes lower, eyes following the movement of Adam's fingers across the table to touch his arm.

=/=

Things have started to wind down. Adam's at the bar, settling the bill and exchanging a few words with a couple of the band members. One of them looks over at Craig and grins. He gives a half-smile in return and waits for Adam to come back.

"Were you talking about me?" he asks, the moment Adam's within hearing range.

"Yes. So are you ready to go?"

"What did you say?" Craig doesn't move.

"Only good things. Come on out to the car and I might tell you one or two more good things."

"Where to from here?" Craig asks, giving in and getting up to follow Adam.

"Wherever you want. We can go on to someplace new if you'd like to, or I can just take you home."

"That sounds a little tame. Or were you planning to come in?"

"Convince me."

"Tell me the good things."

"I'm thinking you must taste sublime. I'm thinking pretty soon I'll just have to find out for myself."

"Those are definitely good things," Craig agrees. "So come home with me, and pretty soon could be sooner."

"Much as I like what you're saying, is it really what you want?"

"I'm not asking you to stay the night, Adam."

"Good. Because I'd have to say no."

Craig stops walking. "Why?"

"Tonight's not about that. I just want to taste."

"Take a bite and put me back? Save me for later?"

Adam laughs, nodding. "Something like that."

=/=

Adam slides his fingers between Craig's as they step off the back porch. "Wow," he says again, and then, "show me."

"Show you what?"

"Everything you did. I want to hear you talk about it."

So Craig does. Tells Adam all about choosing the right plants, about the job they had getting one of the trees to where he wanted it. Tells him about the frogs, and how eerie they sound some nights.

Adam's never seen anything like it, and says so to Craig. "It's incredible," he says. "Really full of you."

"It bloody well ought to be, too," Craig says, stroking Adam's thumb. He sits on the edge of the porch, knees parted, and pulls Adam in close. "It's weird," he whispers. "This. Sharing it."

"You don't share it?"

"With friends. Sometimes. But I don't tend to be thinking about getting into their pants." Craig's lifting Adam's shirt, exposing a tapering trail of dark hair. He leans forward, closes his mouth on rough skin and licks. Adam's fingers thread into Craig's hair, easing him off. There's a slight tremble to his hold, he's not unaffected. Craig has his eyes closed, feels the air shift across his lips a second before Adam kisses him.

Oh.

He's glad he's sat down already, because the slide of Adam's tongue across his own makes his knees slip away from him. There's heavy breathing, murmured sounds of contentment.

Adam's fingers fan out, slide down to Craig's throat. His thumb strokes in careful circles until Craig is squirming, trying to accommodate his increasing state of arousal.

Adam abandons exploration of Craig's mouth, lips curling down to suck momentarily at his chin before leaving his skin altogether.

"That was.." Craig starts to say.

"A promise," Adam concludes.

"A promise?"

"Craig." Adam kisses him again, softly, on the lips. "I have plans all week, things I already agreed to do. So I'll see you next weekend. For the circus."

Craig nods, disappointed. Though he knows why Adam's stepping back now. Tonight's not about that. "I'll be here."

=/=

"Well?"

"Christ, Harry. Get through the door first, won't you?"

Karl's laughing and shoving Harry inside the house. They follow Craig through, towards the garden; a barbecue's already been lit. Karl makes a detour to fill Craig's fridge with the beer he and Harry brought.

"Well?" Harry asks again. "How's it going with Adam?"

"Like you haven't already asked him." Craig sits down and shrugs. "It's going pretty good, I think. He's.. He's a bit tough to work out sometimes."

"How so? Cheers, mate." Harry cracks open the bottle of beer Craig hands over.

"I'm not sure what he wants, you know?"

"Ask him then. Only way to get a straight answer."

"I'm not interrupting your little women's group, am I?"

Harry grabs Karl's leg with one hand and whacks his backside with the other. "You think you're funny?"

"Nah, but I know I'm sexy."

Harry looks at Craig, raises his eyes heavenward. "Can't argue with that."

Karl sits on Harry's lap, steals his beer and kisses his cheek. "You love me really. So.. What's the news?"

"Adam's taking Craig to the circus this weekend."

Karl stops mid-swig, looks at Harry over the bottle. "Huh?"

"The circus."

"Well that's.. um.. different."

Harry nods, gives his lover a mysterious smile. "Adam is different."


~tbc