by jenn
Category: C/Lex, AU
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Jitters
Summary: In which Clark picks up the concept of mortality and Lex picks up Clark. Sort of.
Author Notes: Anathema and Bonibaru sort of convinced me to finish it.
Archiving: SSA
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I accept this with very little equanimity and much pulling of the hair and grinding of the teeth. Metaphorically speaking.
Bored. Totally bored. Brand new levels of incredible, mind-numbing boredom--rather, in fact, like Mrs. Locke's history of art class, come to think of it. Except for the fact that there was no one to throw spitballs at and no Lana in the front desk to mull.
Algebra homework had never looked less inspiring.
Or more prone to being the reason Clark finally lost his sanity. Letters, numbers, symbols, all arranged together in a mystical potluck of crossover confusion that someday, some advanced group of archeologists studying twenty-first century man was going to puzzle over and probably relate to some weird religious phenomenon. There shouldn't be more letters than numbers in an equation. Somehow, the point of math seemed to be lost when Clark could read the word ZED if he looked at the paper from the right direction.
Five days of grounding were apparently good for the growth and development of teenage rebellious tendencies, and wonder of wonders, Clark found out he had some. Since the Football Incident, he'd considered himself a pretty model son and really thought that, just maybe, Mom and Dad wouldn't be quite so--draconian--when they found out about the party.
Well, it had actually been an 'if' sort of situation. As in 'if' they find out, preferably never or years from now, long after Clark had started a successful career as a--banker? lawyer? superhero?--and they could laugh over it during dinner over a bowl of his mom's mashed potatoes and fried chicken. Well, that *so* hadn't worked out, dammit. Leaving Clark--grounded.
Grounded. How--depressing. And anti-climactic, come to think of it, considering the events of the day.
And that bothered him. It really hadn't been *his* fault the party had turned out that large and that messy. Just a few friends that became the entire damn school and possibly most of the surrounding countryside. God. And hadn't he saved dozens of lives? Helped out? Did good things? *And* cleaned the entire house at just about the speed of light?
Dropping his pencil to the desk, Clark drummed his heels against legs of his chair absently, thinking on the fact his parents would be out tonight until late--because he was a good boy, and of course he'd respect the limits of grounding.
Clark felt less respectful than usual that night. Grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, he went down the stairs two at a time and pushed out the front door.
Grinning.
Oddly enough, one of Lex's--servants? help?--didn't even comment on the late hour, merely stating Lex was in his office. He instantly disappeared in one of those acts of teleportation when Clark turned from closing the door, and that made Clark violently curious once again about the concept of secret passages and trap doors. It tempted him, just a little, to sneak around and see if he could find one, but doubtless the butler was already telling Lex that he'd arrived, and it would probably look a little too weird if he got--well, sort of lost.
Or ended up knocking his way through a wall if he *did* find a secret passage that didn't want to let him out. He could talk his way out of some acts with adrenaline, but breaking through six feet of solid stone--no, he didn't think so.
Tucking his hands into his pockets, Clark went looking for the man of the house through the chilly grey hallways. So to speak. Both terms being high subjective when referring to a twenty-one year old guy and a castle, though Lex was one of the few people who might be able to say 'king of his castle' without it being a euphemism.
The office was quiet, warm and elegant, and fit Lex like a glove. All rich coloring and dark panels, the leather sofa temptingly comfortable and practically begging for Clark to wander over and fall on top of it. Clark stopped at the door just to watch Lex as he studied a binder on his desk, impossibly thick, reminding Clark uncomfortably of the English homework waiting for him on his desk.
He also noted, with a little grin, that Lex was wearing headphones, and long fingers were tapping out a soft rhythm on the edge of the desk. If he listened closely, he could almost hear the bass of the song. Even at rest, Lex projected energy. Impatience was written into the lines of his forehead, in the tight set of his mouth while winter moonlight poured cold and bright on the floor behind him. Like he wished he could be doing anything other than this.
Clark could sympathize.
Only a few brief seconds of study, before the blue eyes came up, catching him, and he got a quick smile.
"Clark. Come in." A hand came up to wave at him vaguely, and Clark slipped inside, checking the time. Lex pulled the headphones down around his neck, reaching for the pencil that had rolled dangerously close to the edge of the desk.
"Seven."
Lex looked up, blinking a little.
"Hmm?"
Clark pointed at the old clock just above the sofa. "It's seven."
Lex obediently glanced at the wall, and a smile fought its way across his face.
"So it is. I--didn't notice." Tiny pause, and Lex glanced down at the binder with evident dislike. "I'm picking up a work ethic, aren't I?"
Wide grin. "Looks like it."
Lex shut the binder with a finality that suggested he was considering the option of burying it somewhere dark and deep. "Can't have that."
Clark had been in this office often enough to be comfortable taking the seat on the couch, settling awkwardly long limbs in some semblance of order, while Lex drawered the binder with all the satisfaction of burying an enemy, before standing up and pushing the chair back in a single fluid movement. Fascinating to watch, the way Lex lived so comfortably in his body. Coming out from behind the desk, Lex regarded him with that little smile that Clark had never seen Lex bestow on anyone else, leaning back into the dark wood.
It was somewhat of a shock to see the bruising, now that Clark was looking. High reddish scrape on one cheekbone; thin dark-purple lines on his throat where his tie had been used as a leash, visible through the unbuttoned collar; vivid deep purple on the back of his head that made Clark wince in sympathy when Lex tilted his head.
He realized, with something of a jolt, that he hadn't talked to Lex since that afternoon, leaving with his parents only to glance back once and see Lex watching Lionel handle the press with that indefinable stillness that had something in it of both anger and cool interest. Blue eyes narrowed as they took Lionel's measure before all those reporters. Lionel, who'd hugged his son with all the warmth of a Kansas winter, and Clark wondered how his father could ever compare the two.
It was weird, how blase the entire saving-the-town thing had become to Clark. Just looking at Lex, who carried the physical reminders of the reality that Clark had never really experienced. Sudden and shocking, to realize Lex had been hurt.
Hurt. A lot, maybe. That could have been a concussion.
"How are you?" Clark knew his father had come by to see Lex that night, supposedly to confirm some vegetable orders Lex had made for the next week. Clark had tried to envision the conversation--Lex wasn't at his personal best when feeling vulnerable, and he could almost see his father's impatience with Lex's carelessness. Pissed his dad off, probably more, and then the strange pity that Lex would have seen on his father's face--oh God, he didn't even want to *think* how Lex had reacted to that.
No, much better not to know.
"Small headache, lots of well-wishing, and a combined number of fifteen casseroles and assorted food items from the various mothers of the other kids in your class." Little shrug and blinding Lex-smile, all warmth. "I'm gaining weight."
Oh. Clark watched Lex shift on the carpet--restless energy seeping from him without a vent. He wondered if he was keeping Lex from a fencing lesson.
"Big weekend ahead?" Lex asked suddenly, and Clark was surprised into a grimace.
"Grounded."
Lex chuckled, resting both hands lightly on the desk behind him.
"How long?"
"A month." He couldn't quite keep the disgust from his voice.
"Better you than me." Little shift, as he turned to the small table he kept the brandy on. He looked at it for a second with an intense concentration more appropriate for advanced equations than liquor choices, then shook his head briefly. "Though I got the feeling your father wanted to ground me for the fireworks."
Clark grinned, but it faded with the slightest wince as Lex drew back, setting the glass aside. He wondered what the cut of Lex's coat hid beneath it in the way of injuries. Lex hadn't bothered to go to the hospital--too busy directing the plant back into business, though he'd given everyone present the next day off, Chloe's dad a whole week that Gabe hadn't wanted to take.
"Sorry 'bout that." Clark shifted on the sofa. Energy level aside, something Clark suspected Lex would have on his deathbed, there was something--*off*--about him. More than restlessness. "Are you--you sure you're okay?"
Almost reflexively, Lex's hand slid up to his head, sliding across the back, jerking down as if he'd betrayed something vital.
"Nothing a bottle of brandy and six kinds of narcotics don't cure. Not to mention some time sleeping on my stomach." Lex shook his head briefly, turning away from the bottle. He smiled impersonally at Clark. "I'm fine. Don't worry so much."
Clark opened his mouth, shutting it tight, not sure what to say. What *did* you say to that? In the mercilessly bright light of the room, he could see other things, now that he was looking. Pale purple shadows beneath blue eyes, and the restlessness that was both energy and tightly leashed tension.
Maybe Lex *needed* a fencing lesson. Or something. He looked wound enough to snap at the slightest provocation.
"That was--I didn't tell you before, but--"
Lex shook his head dismissively, almost defensively.
"It was just practical. It doesn't look promising on the resume if some kids died because one of my former employees got too disgruntled."
"Yeah," Clark answered automatically, leaning into the couch as Lex shifted back against the desk. "I suppose they covered 'how to deal with psychotic former employees' in Business Ethics 101 right?"
Confidence, bright and sharp and almost tangible, and Clark could remember the way it shone around Lex when he'd walked in the room, and the way even Earl had paused at the feel of it. Still raw and unrefined--just *Lex*, who made the deal without a hint of anything but absolute confidence.
"It wasn't like I had anything planned for the afternoon, you know...."
"Lex--" Lex, who moved like he owned the world, as if he never *dreamed* of failure. Looking at Earl almost tiredly, telling him the bald facts of the case, the facts that Earl had somehow *had* to have known about Lionel Luthor. He left his own son there to die--he wouldn't scruple to leave a bunch of smalltown kids he didn't give a damn about. "I'm--you know, thanks."
Lex's feet looked in imminent danger of taking off, and by the expression on his face, the rest of his body was voting on whether to give in.
"Don't mention it. It was just good business." The lavender shadows seemed to deepen, and it hit Clark like a two-by-four--for some reason, in the shock and rush of the moment, it hadn't. Not really. Lex had just--done it. Walked down there, shedding kevlar like it was an annoyance, not the only thread of safety; negotiating them out with that certainty that admitted no possibility of failure. The Lexes of the world didn't fail. "Besides, you saved my life after." Little tilt of his head, and the smile was utterly clear. "Thank you, by the way."
Lying through his teeth with a straight face about the existence of a place that he'd believed was nothing more than the delusions of a madman. That his father *let* him believe.
"You just don't want to admit that you went in there because you gave a damn what happened to us."
"Maybe you." Spoken lightly, and Clark shifted on the couch uncomfortably. "It's not like I could pick and choose who to got to leave. I figured throw you all in for the hell of it. Who knew Earl would weigh a Luthor more valuable than a dozen kids?"
Clark winced.
"Are you all right?" Lex, crouching in front of him, neatly folded onto himself with that perfect balance that Clark would give anything to emulate.
"You could have died." Maybe it'd been there at the back of his mind all this time, barely formed, but sitting across from a bruised Lex, it was--there. Lex. Could. Have. Died. The bruises marking his body were the vivid reality. One stray bullet, one unhinged moment with Earl holding that gun, and one slip of Earl's hand on that catwalk.
Dead. All that enigmatic charm and brilliance and bright energy, snuffed out in the blink of an eye.
"So could you." Little shrug. "Dad doesn't think I'll survive to thirty anyway at the rate I'm going. Not that much of a loss--he can certainly father more children if he can work it into his schedule."
Clark frowned, looking up, but read nothing but a sort of amused resignation on the face so close to his.
One bullet, one wrong move, Lex had been *hanging* there, and Clark still had no idea where the strength to pull Lex and Earl up with had come from. The green stone in Earl's skin had almost drained him--he'd felt...
"Clark?"
...powerless. For the first time, please God for the last time. Maybe he'd told the truth in the elevator--maybe it had been adrenaline. Blank terror. One goal--get Earl up, get *Lex* up. Had to do it, no other options allowed.
No thought of failure, because he couldn't fail Lex.
"You shouldn't have gone in." Even to himself, his voice sounded strained.
"You shouldn't have stayed," Lex answered shortly, arms folding over the upraised knees. "The whole place could have gone up. God alone knows how the pipes shut off." A hand slid out suddenly, locking below Clark's chin in an unexpectedly strong grip. "You have a thing for saving people--next time, when I say leave, leave."
The blue eyes were serious, and Clark sucked in a startled breath.
"I was fine." He would have been. The entire place could have gone up at any time, and chances were, Clark could have walked away. "If I'd left, you would have died."
"Maybe. But there's being brave, Clark, and there's being practical. One life isn't worth--"
There wouldn't have been enough left of Lex to bury. Something beneath Clark's skin began to crawl, and--and God, that was close. That was too close.
He might not have been sitting here with a bruised and tired Lex. He might have been standing in a Metropolitan cemetery while everything Lex would ever be disappeared into the cold ground.
"Don't say that." His body was moving, onto his knees, almost knocking Lex over, and Lex was *here*, warm and solid and alive. Wrapping both arms around the lean body, Clark pulled Lex into a hug, forgetting to leash his strength just so he could hold on. Burying his face against the elegant line of Lex's shoulder, smelling of expensive cologne and expensive clothes, just *holding*. Lex and his personal space issues be damned. "Don't--just don't ever say that. Don't--don't *do* that again."
Lex thought Clark was brave and good and so fearless, when he wasn't. He wasn't in danger in that plant, and that made it cheap to be brave. No one stripped safety off with that kind of casualness, no one traded life off like a party favor, not unless they were suicidal or unbelievably stupid.
Lex Luthor was a lot of things, but stupid never came close. Clark didn't know nearly enough about the man in his arms. And might never have known any more.
There were long, surprised seconds where Lex's body was almost wooden with shock, before tentative arms slid around him, and Clark held on, eyes shut. Fingers digging in through the smooth fabric of Lex's jacket, pulling Lex in as close as he could get him, and a hand was sliding uncertainly through his hair, almost like Clark's mother had that very night when they'd gotten home.
"Hey." Very uncertain. Clark thought of Lionel, the way he touched Lex, and shivered a little. "It's okay, Clark."
It'd never be okay. Not really. Not as long as Clark had to hide what he was and how he could have--could have saved them all if he'd been willing to reveal a few secrets. Twelve years of indoctrination into lying could have--God, could have killed them all.
"I'm sorry," Clark murmured, and he felt Lex's hand against his face and burrowed closer. Vaguely, wondered what they looked like, a sprawl of tangled limbs on the floor by the couch. Didn't even care.
"For what?" The arms around him were more confident now, hand stroking his back gently, smoothing his jacket down from where it'd rucked up in his jump to the floor. "For being yourself?"
Yes. Just for that. Exactly for that.
Lex didn't so much as shift, simply holding him, the stroking soft and steady, matching the beat of Clark's heart--Lex's too. It was comforting just to sit and be held like this--warm and tight and soothing. He could protect Lex, he had to--Lex didn't know enough to protect himself. Couldn't know, either, which just made it worse in some indefinable way.
Finally, Clark lifted his grip and pulled back reluctantly--the flawless jacket was rumpled and to his horror, it looked as if--he raised a hand to his face but Lex was quicker, fingers sliding over his cheek and tracking the lines of tears with one finger.
"Clark--" Thumb brushing below his eye, and Clark drew in a breath. A thousand questions chased themselves across Lex's face, and it was the first time Clark had ever seen him so unguarded. Naked shock had wiped everything else away. "Clark, what--"
Clark shook his head slowly, quiet under the soft touch of Lex's fingers, smoothing the marks away. Light across his cheekbone, down his cheek, brushing the corner of his mouth.
"Hmm. You shouldn't worry so much. Remind me to walk in more often on maniacs with guns. I liked the broccoli casserole Nell sent."
Clark opened his eyes, and Lex was smiling at him with careless ease. He had no idea, not really, what he'd done.
"I couldn't have died down there," Clark said softly, and Lex's fingers on his face stilled.
"So speaks adolescent invulnerability." Little shake of his head. "Clark--"
"You took off the jacket, you knew he hated Luthors, all Luthors. He might have killed you. You just--for us, and you--" Didn't have to, didn't need to, and Clark wondered if anyone really got that, even his parents. People didn't walk in on insane gunmen, they just didn't. Invulnerable boys might, though. Invulnerable boys could afford to be hit by cars, dodge in front of bullets, be thrown from lofts, walk through fire, and face down maniacs. Invulnerable boys couldn't afford to have friends who thought--who thought that they needed saving. "It would have been my fault--if he'd shot you, if you'd fallen. Mine."
That got him a sharp frown.
"Last I checked, my dear Dad was the one--"
"Lex--"
His shoulders were taken in a tight grip and Lex shook him lightly.
"Clark. It wasn't--" Lex paused, obviously thinking. "He--Earl--you knew him from before, so you might feel responsible, but my father caused this mess." Lex's mouth tightened. "He did it and covered it up, lied about it, and left it up to fate to fix it for him. Fate or his son or a teenage boy who never should have been in danger in the first place. It's not your fault."
The words were on the tip of his tongue, but Lex's finger slid over, stopping them. "Don't. I would do it again."
God, that was--Clark breathed out, staring at Lex, at the utterly clear blue eyes and amused smirk. So Lex.
"Would you?"
"Hey, I got *casseroles*, Clark. And cookies. You have no idea."
"You'd do it again." Breathed out, and Clark sat back on his heels. Couldn't quite let go yet, didn't try to figure out why. "After--"
"Cookies, Clark." Bright smile, no edges, just Lex. "My cook doesn't make chocolate chip cookies. Has issues with food that wasn't invented in France. If I keep this up, I'll be set for life."
"Next time." Clark couldn't help the choked laugh, and Lex smiled back at him--a real smile, nothing in it that could hurt. This perfect moment where Lex was just--Lex.
Leaning forward, Clark brushed a kiss across the lips so close to his. It seemed--natural.
There was a moment, pure and clear and utterly intoxicating, when Lex leaned into it, head tilting, the hands on his shoulders tightened. Dizzy rush from the touch, from--from feeling Lex respond. To him.
He didn't know what he expected, couldn't have said what he was doing, but this....
Then he was being pushed back and Lex was a foot away, blue eyes wide and looking at him with an expression Clark couldn't even begin to describe.
"Clark, don't. I don't need that kind of gratitude."
"It's not that."
Not moving, barely breathing, and Clark tried to think of something to say. Anything. Still feeling Lex on his lips, licking to catch the taste, and felt Lex's eyes fix on his mouth. Stayed there for an endlessly long moment that Clark felt to the bottom of his feet. His entire body was suddenly warm and he was viciously aware of the erection pressing into his jeans, all from that look that seemed to be asking questions. And Clark could answer every damn one of them.
"Clark--"
A foot between them that became inches, and Clark held Lex's eyes, shivering at the hand that touched his face. As if he'd break, as if he'd bolt, when God knew, nothing on earth could have moved him in that moment. Both hands on his face, tilting his head, threading through his hair and Clark closed his eyes at the touch of Lex's lips on his.
Just slow, warm pressure at first. Careful, so gentle, and Clark reached for Lex, finding the line of a shoulder, the smooth skin of his face. Lex tilted his head and the kiss changed, tongue sliding over the line of his lips. Pressing him back against the body-warmed leather of the couch, Lex shifting into his lap and Clark opened his mouth, gave Lex what he wanted.
"Clark." Lex had pulled back, pressing his forehead to Clark's, breathing shaky. Some kind of weird thrill in this, in making Lex look like that, sound like *that*. "You--say stop. Tell me to stop. This isn't good timing. You know that. Say stop."
"No. I--" Blindly seeking Lex's mouth again, catching the corner and licking it tentatively. The softest sigh, air brushing his skin, and Lex was inside--inside his mouth, tongue warm and soft and moving over his teeth, pushing. Slow, hot licks to his tongue, exploring his mouth, over his teeth, then around his tongue again. Amazing. Clark followed the movements, feeling Lex's encouragement in the soft sounds, the tight grip in his hair, pushing into Lex's mouth and a silky, satisfied sound came from Lex's throat, a sound Clark could *taste*.
Shifting closer until they were pressed together and Lex *had* to feel Clark's erection against his stomach, could feel Lex's as a hand dropped to his waist, lining up their hips, and then Lex moved against him, cock to cock--
Hot. Sensation. Bright and brilliant and so good. He arched into it instinctively, following the movement of Lex's hand on his back.
"Oh...God, Lex--"
He felt Lex's smile, the hand on his back guiding him into a slow, painfully delicious rhythm, and Lex's mouth against his chin, warm and soft and hard on his throat. Tried to find something to do with his hands, pushing at Lex's jacket and Lex moved back briefly, shrugging it off and stripping Clark's off in a few quick movements before that mouth was on Clark's again. Harder now, faster, bright thrusts of his tongue to match the rhythm of their hips, and Clark pulled Lex's shirt free of his pants, finding skin and running his fingers over the silky smooth lines of Lex's back. Cool skin, warming under his touch, and Lex's hands were at his throat, unbuttoning the soft flannel, sliding down to pull t-shirt up and hands flowing across his chest like water. Better--slow, hard touches, feeling him from the skin out, thumbing his nipples awake, and he was aware of them as he'd never really been in his life.
"Not here." Low, husky voice--Lex sounded like that? He made Lex sound like that? Clark opened his eyes as Lex's knuckles stroked over his face, long and hard. "Anyone--" Deep breath, let out slowly, Lex's hand slowing just beside his mouth, and Clark turned his head, unable to help it, mouthing the warm fingers, letting his tongue taste clean skin. "Shit, Clark--" Didn't pull away, just watched him, fingers digging into his back. "Clark--choice time. Come upstairs with me or go home. Now."
It was a bigger decision than it looked on the surface, and Clark freed Lex's hand, hormones aside, thinking about it. Everything could change with this--no, everything *would* change with this, and he thought, just maybe, he and Lex could play off making out on the floor of Lex's office as a thing of the moment. Now, they could, possibly, just back off and tomorrow if he saw Lex, he'd get the smile and the tilted head and the only place he'd ever feel Lex like this again would be in his dreams.
Knew, with a little start, that this was just *it*, and the decision was so easy that it scared him.
"Okay."
"Okay *what*?" Strained voice, and he wondered briefly what Lex would do if he said he wanted to leave. There was no give in the body on his, nothing in his face either. Clark's mouth went dry.
"Up-upstairs."
Something like a release of breath, then a brutal kiss, hard and fast and possessive. Clark's mouth felt almost bruised when Lex lifted his head, staring into his eyes.
"You understand what we're going to do?"
Clark couldn't find the words, nodding shortly, and Lex was on his feet in a quick smooth flex of muscles, hand extended. Shakily, Clark took it, and Lex's fingers slid through his, anchoring him in place, before he bent, picking up both their jackets. Shirt untucked, wrinkled pants, licking his lips quickly and so sexy, glancing around the room before pulling Clark to the door.
It was a very, very long walk upstairs--a lot of time to think, in fact. Too much time, if he hadn't been pushed into the wall on the first landing, Lex's mouth nipping inside the loose collar of his shirt, their twined fingers pinned to the stone wall and their bodies touching along every inch. Bucking a little against Lex, hearing the ragged sound of his own breath in the quiet.
"Your--the help--" Who for all Clark cared could line up and watch at this point, when Lex's tongue found that sensitive spot below his ear and nipped into it, making Clark's cock jump against the restraint of far too tight jeans.
"Never come upstairs unless asked." Mumbled against his skin.
"We're--not upstairs."
"What a wonderful observation." It was supposed to be snarky, but Lex pulled back, brilliant smile and licking his lips. "You taste too good to wait."
And that--wow. Flush stealing up Clark's face and heat settling thick and heavy into his stomach. Amazing, that he'd agreed to--do this--with Lex, and he was blushing now. Just so unreal. Lex's laugh was soft, and he was being pulled again, and there was a door and a brief glimpse of the walls of a darkened room, and Lex was just--standing there. Two feet away, no contact at all, and Clark wondered what he was waiting for. He leaned into the shut door, shivering at the heat in those blue eyes was just--unreal.
Felt big and awkward and so young.
"Lex--"
"Just--don't move." Still staring at him, breath fast and sharp, and Lex--Lex *wanted* him. It was written into every line of his body like a shout; even Clark couldn't miss this. Lex slowly crossing the space between them, until Clark could feel the warmth of Lex's body. "God, you're gorgeous. Just--" Another breath, and Lex's hands were against his collar, sliding slowly toward the remaining buttons. Easy, quick movements of his fingers, and Clark let the shirt fall to the floor at his feet, kicking it absently aside. Then a slow curl around the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head, and Clark watched Lex toss it aside without a glance, staring at him with all that banked heat. Rough fingertips skimming up his stomach, over his chest to his collar, and Clark leaned his head back into the door, closing his eyes and trying to breathe, while his mind took off in a thousand different directions. Pressing his fingertips into the wood, feeling Lex's hands at his waist, unfastening his belt, then unbuttoning his jeans and God--so close, so close to exactly what he needed, what he wanted so desperately.
"Lex," he whispered, and warm lips pressed against the skin of his chest briefly.
"Shh. Let me."
The jeans and boxers pooled on the floor at his ankles and he blindly toed off his shoes and toed off his socks, stepped out of the cloth, hearing Lex kick them away. No time for even the beginnings of embarrassment--strong hands ran over his hips, as if Lx was studying Clark by touch, every muscle and bone. Strong fingers circling his cock and Clark couldn't help the little thrust, the involuntary shiver of his body. Yeah, this was new.
Then his cock was pressed against scratchy wool and hands were on his face, drawing it down, a hot kiss of pure need, thrusting into his mouth, filled with the taste of Lex. Following Lex's mouth, Clark crossed the room blindly until he felt the turn and was pushed down on the edge of the bed. Reaching out and clinging when Lex would have stepped back, sinking his fingers into wool-covered skin and holding on.
"Lex." He wasn't sure what he was asking for, but definitely something. Getting his hands up between them, unbuttoning the lavender shirt, he looked in wonder at the pale, perfect skin. Utterly hairless, so smooth, and he drew his fingertips over it before leaning forward and brushing his lips across.
The skin jumped and Lex shivered, making a soft sound that was as good as encouragement. Sliding his hands around Lex's back to pull him closer, licking the warm, silky skin, tasting of soap and sweat and something sharp and bright, Lex. Tracing the line of muscle with the tip of his tongue, as far up as he could go, the linen sides of the shirt brushing his face, Lex's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.
"Oh Clark...."
Lex was wearing *way* too many clothes. The shirt went first.
The single button of Lex's pants fought him in a losing battle and hit the floor with a soft finality as Clark dragged the pants down, pushing them past Lex's knees. Boxers, silk, had to be, followed, and Lex balanced against Clark's shoulder, easily slipped free of socks and shoes. Pushing Clark back into the mattress and moving on top of him with simple liquid grace, kissing him slowly, carefully, opening his mouth with casual deliberation and grinding his hips into Clark's with exquisite accuracy.
Oh. Oh *man*....
Clark breathed out and simply held on, running helpless fingers over Lex's skin and arching up into every thrust of Lex's hips. Just--God, wow. Smooth skin rubbing up against every inch of him, slick beneath his fingers, and soft, making Clark try to burrow closer. Amazing *taste*, and God, he never would have guessed that, and he might never, ever pry his mouth away.
"What do you want to do?" A slow, hard bite into the muscle of his shoulder, and Clark arched, fingers digging into any skin in reach.
"This. Everything." Cock sliding against his, and that was just unreal, how *good* it felt. Lex laughed, low and amused and maybe a little hysterical, one elbow braced beside Clark's head, his other hand reaching between them, closing over their cocks, pushing them hard together. "Oh God, that's good. Yeah. That."
"Glad to oblige." Slow, hard stroke, friction then damp from the precome beginning to slick Lex's hand, and then Lex pulled up, licking his palm quick and dirty, staring into Clark's eyes. That *smile*--God, like this was just the most fun ever and why on earth didn't everyone do this? Back down, holding them together--and oh God, yes, better, slicker, jacking them slow and ruthless and Clark was making sounds he was sure had to be part of the entire alien thing, because could humans *sound* like this?
Another hot, messy kiss, tongue buried in Clark's mouth, making him whimper. Deep, sucking kisses that made up the entire world, and God, he never wanted this to *stop*. Fingers grasping, and he knew his nails were leaving indents in Lex's skin, and that only made Lex thrust harder.
Just--more. More *now*.
"Clark--" Breathless against his mouth, dropping little biting kisses down his jaw, face against his shoulder. "God, yes--"
Coming was like something out of a romance novel--dragged up and thrown over the edge of a cliff, an explosion of heat and wetness and frantic movement, the smells of sex heavy in the air. Clark heard his own voice, loud and shocked in the quiet. Lex bit down and came too--against him, on him, all wet and slick between them, and it was long seconds before they both fell motionless on the still-made bed.
Wrapping his arms more firmly around Lex's slick back, Clark held on as they rolled over, Lex's thigh over his, his hand on the back of Clark's neck, foreheads touching. Synched breathing like they'd just run a major race to, like, Alaska or something. When he opened his eyes, Lex was staring at him, breathless grin and all.
Open for anyone to see, and Clark thinks, a little drowsily, that he never wants Lex to look any other way.
the end