by jenn
Te: Jenn? I want porn.
Te: I neeeeeed porn.
Jenn: Porn?
Te: Make porn for me?
Jenn: What kind of porn?
Jenn: *thinks*
Te: Pornolicious goodness featuring Clark getting fucked so very, very hard by Lex?
Sex shouldn't be clean. Not if you're doing it for real.
It's like love, like playing, like dancing, like living--if you're scared of getting dirty, if you're afraid of getting hurt, you're never going to do it right. It's got to be all or nothing, no in-between, no time to sit, to think, to do anything but feel.
Clark thinks that a lot when his hands are braced against the headboard, eyes staring into the ceiling, breathing something instinctive, words meaningless syllables strung together in bare whispers. Stripped naked and stretched out on the bed, the feel of warm hands ghosting his skin like the memory of touch.
So good. So, so good.
Slow, almost casual fuck of Lex's mouth, wanting to keep that bit of control, just that little bit that Lex always wants to take.
Lex always wants everything.
Slow, teasing strokes with Lex's tongue on his balls, his stomach, taking him in his mouth in one swallow and then pulling away. Exquisite tease worth a thousand words or one big secret, and God knows, Clark could have been promising him anything, anything at all, just to put his mouth back *there*. On his cock, please, God, Lex, let it happen....
Lex plays like he works, though--focus and will and pure control. A quick, bright-hot look from behind blue eyes that know exactly what he's doing, how he's doing it, and why.
Sucking bite to his stomach and Lex's hands on his hips, fingers digging into the bone like he wants to leave fingerprints for others to find. Lick light as air over his navel, quick, soft kiss to the head of his cock that ends too fast even to shiver.
Not enough, not nearly enough, and Clark arches his hips, trying to get more.
"Please, Lex--"
It's not enough. Lex is still playing.
A finger circles in--has been circling, maybe forever, maybe just for seconds--running around the hole with methodical attention, slow and careful and ruthless, like he's mapping skin and wants to memorize everything. Every time Clark twitches, every time he moans, everything that makes him want to crumble the headboard between his palms and everything that makes him--Clark.
Tongue following, and Clark knows he moans at the first thrust of that tongue inside of him. Hot and wet and hard, ruthless and demanding everything he is.
Everything he is, will ever be, and Lex's hand on his cock is like the best afterthought in the world.
"Lex--"
Sex shouldn't be safe.
It's like jumping, like falling, like that first second of dizzy, heady rush when you realize that there's nothing you can do but give it up, let it go. Clark's never been afraid, not really, not like that, but here, now, with Lex, he always is.
Always dangerous, spread out and vulnerable for anything Lex wants to see, wants to do, every secret edging just beneath his skin with every bite that leaves no mark and every scratch that disappears in seconds.
"Lex, please, now--"
It's almost painful, when Lex pulls up, tongue running over his lips. Watching him with that endless patience and utter focus. Waiting for him to--
"What?" Slow, easy jack of his cock, fingers tightening fast and hard, reminding him that there's nothing now that Lex doesn't know about his body.
"Please, Lex--"
"Please what?" Slow, careful, almost gentle.
And his hands are just a hair beyond normal strength, gripping the headboard, grinding in, wood giving, and it'll give with just a little more pressure. Just a little more--
"Say it, Clark."
Words and wood can splinter, but only one can hurt him.
"Suck me, please, Lex."
And....
God....
Wet heat, sucking around him dark and delicious and so fast, so hard, fucking Lex's mouth and wanting more, wanting everything. Those long fingers moving into his body, quick-bright feeling that could be pain but only tightens every muscle that much more, and Clark's--God, saying things, yelling things, telling Lex whatever he wants to know, whatever he wants to hear, just don't stop, don't stop, God, please *don't stop*--
It's a bright, hot rush--every part of his body awake and alive and screaming, rushing everything to his groin and out and Lex, swallowing him easy and quick and fast, head bent and taking it all. Everything.
Aftershocks are still shaking his body when he feels Lex pull his thighs apart, lifting his legs. Blunt nudge against the hole and Clark whimpers, trying to get back his focus. Something. Anything. Hand on his jaw forcing it up, meeting blue eyes that allow nothing less than Clark's full attention.
"Watch this."
He couldn't have looked away if he tried.
Slow, careful penetration, making sure he feels every inch stretching him, making sure he knew what Lex was doing to him, no way to do anything but *know*. Soft, negligible burn, thick and heavy inside of him, and so full he can't imagine how he's lived without it. Lazy rock inside of him until Lex is seated all the way inside, no space between their bodies.
No movement either, when every instinct screamed for it. A single experimental rock got Clark a sharp bite to his shoulder, a reminder and a warning.
Lex sets the pace--still slow, but hard. Slide out, rock back in, taking away his breath, his reason, his mind, condensing everything into what Lex is doing to him, here and now. How it feels, how it fills him, how much he wants this, God, so badly. A little faster, a little harder now, Lex's hand on his cock jerking him back screamingly erect, too sensitive, but that doesn't matter.
The headboard is splintering in his fists and Lex is splintering his mind and he doesn't give a shit.
Sex shouldn't be easy.
The rough slide body to body, gritted teeth and edges of pain, the hot burn of bodies moving desperately toward an single, unstoppable goal.
"God, Lex--please, yes--"
"Come on, Clark." Brutal stroke of his cock, brutal stroke inside, and Clark screams, doesn't care who hears him--not the servants, not the delivery guy who might or might not be downstairs, not his parents or Smallville or Lionel or--God--anyone at all.
"Harder?" Lex whispers--sweat standing out on pale skin that he wants to lick, but Lex is just out of reach and Clark can't pry his hands off the headboard. Fast bite to his throat, another to his chest, Lex, braced above him on one arm and just *watching*. Waiting for that second, that moment--
"Yes, harder, faster, anything--*fuck* me, Lex."
And it is--*God*, yes. Hand on his cock hard and fast and almost cruel, fingernails scratching the length so he screams again, Lex pushing deep inside him, every thrust like a mark. Inside and outside, but in ways only Lex could see.
Lex, teeth clenched, sounds almost painful to hear, and it's this moment--this *second*--that Clark looks for, watches for, wants most. When Lex is in the fuck, his totally and completely, when nothing else matters to either one of them but the heat and the rush and the need like something tangible in the room.
"Fuck--" Lex grits out between clenched teeth, and Clark moans. "Come on, Clark. Come for me. Now, Clark. *Now*."
He can't imagine being able to disobey.
He can't imagine wanting to.
It's pain and it's good and it's *right*, because sex shouldn't be clean, shouldn't be safe, shouldn't be easy. It rips itself out of his body with a wail that hurts his throat, hot on his stomach, Lex seconds behind him, inside him in another hot rush of sensation. Groaning something that could be his name, trembling, collapsing against him, warm and slick and almost weightless. Clark sucks in a shuddering breath, letting the aftershocks shake them both. Untwisting his fingers from ruined wood and wrapping his arms around Lex, shutting his eyes now and feeling the soft pressure of Lex's mouth against his shoulder.
It's everything.
The End.