by jenn
Clark thinks that Lex might have picked up a fetish for his hair.
Lex has a fondness for silk, satin, things that slip across his callused fingertips. Textures for him to play with, they fascinate him. The worked brocade of an eighteenth century wall hanging that's in the armory. The feel of his shirts and velvet-smooth leather and slick vinyl. Lex's closet is like a sensory feast, and Clark's learned the pattern.
Lex loves to touch. Easy for Lex to curl his fingers in it when he's in Clark's mouth.
And that's a *lot*.
Because Clark loves blowjobs.
Something about them, Clark thinks sometimes. Maybe that Lex can surrender control and just let himself be had. And all it takes is Clark's mouth. His tongue.
At first, Lex just lets him play. Slow licks, sucking, just tasting everywhere. Hearing Lex's breath catch, callused fingertips stroking into his hairline and behind his ears, down his throat.
Just the tip sliding up the vein underneath. Tickling, slow and steady. Gentle. Not quite a tease, just a promise.
Clark moans and God, Lex will feel that somewhere at the base of his skull.
Just the *taste* of him....
Clark can do this for hours, keep Lex like this, through phone calls that he answers too shortly, ignoring paperwork, fuck the computer, and Clark grins, remembering when Lionel came to visit while Clark had both Lex's balls in his mouth under the desk.
But. Like this. Just like this. Lex breathing slow and steady, little jerks of his body that are all just under the skin when Clark slides his hands over Lex's thighs and pulls him down in the seat a little more. Modified slump as Lex leans back, and Clark ducks under long thighs, get his tongue to that tender place right behind Lex's balls and hears that soft catch of breath.
Could be his name.
Clark doesn't stay there long, though--it's a tease for him, too. Wets his lips and sucks softly on the tender skin of Lex's thigh, then back up. Thick cock, hard and red and waiting, and Clark lets Lex brace his feet on the floor, trickling his tongue up and down from base to tip. Soft sigh that melts through him, and that's when he leans up and swallows Lex whole. Incredible, shocking stretch of his mouth, thick, heavy weight on his tongue, pushing against his palate, his mouth fits so perfectly it could have been made just for this. Lex makes an impossible sound, like he's dying, but better.
Clark *loves* this.
Loves how Lex moans and twists into the chair, waits for it when he pulls out, just holding the tip in his mouth. Sucks, pushing his tongue against the slit and feeling the quiver of Lex's body, the way his breath catches in his throat. Loves the way Lex's fingers feel when they slide into his hair, not quite desperate, not quite needy enough.
Not quite what Clark wants.
And it's so natural. Sucks and swallow, mouth pressed to warm, velvet-smooth skin at the base, forehead against Lex's stomach, feeling the twitch of Lex's cock in his throat.
Goes slow, sucking his way back up, letting his teeth graze *just* enough. Slick-salty precome to catch on his tongue, wants more and runs his tongue around the head, letting one hand fall idly to wrap gently around Lex's balls. Weigh and play, light and easy. The way that makes Lex moan just like *that*.
And tightening fingers, threading through, holding on, Lex arching his hips to follow when Clark pulls back. He can't help grinning. He remembers the play in Metropolis, in the balcony, and Lex's fingers closing over the arm of the chair, leaving fingernail trails in the glossy wood.
Waits for it while he sucks, and Lex is groaning, murmuring things that Clark can't quite understand, before both hands tighten and Lex *thrusts*.
Into his mouth, his throat, and it's impossible that Lex seems *bigger* when he does that, filling him up, hollowing him out, aching ever time Lex pulls out. Fingers curled into his hair so tightly Lex will pry them loose later, and his mouth feels huge and wide and impossibly open, impossibly full.
Lex fucking his mouth, and it's Lex losing control--this Lex can't talk on the phone or sit through a meeting or do anything but take, take what he needs and Clark knows how to touch him, caressing the tight, hard balls, sliding his other hand under, find the hole with a wet fingertip. Knows how Lex likes it when he slides it inside with the rhythm of the fuck.
Knows Lex right now will forget his own name, but when he comes--oh God, when he comes, he'll only remember Clark's.
Sudden, sharp shock of the beginning of orgasm. Clark can feel it like it's his own body, pushes a second finger in beside the first and Lex arches, off leather, off the chair, saying *his* name, yelling his name, God, it's perfect, he makes Lex *do* this. A Lex that doesn't give a fuck about image or cool or reports or ambition, the one that's fucking his mouth like he owns it and comes hard, shaking, shifting the world and Clark swallows, bitter-salty, tangy, *different*, like Lex himself.
Clark sucks until Lex collapses into body-warm, sweat-dampened leather, shaking, and Clark pulls away gently. Thinks about pulling Lex's pants up, but he likes him like this, disheveled and sweaty and exhausted, no fashion model chic, just flushed skin and satiated need. This Lex that he can just touch, rub his fingertips in gentle circles and make him shiver more, and then Lex is looking down at him with that *look*.
Watching him with fever-bright eyes while he licks his lips, runs his hands over Lex's thighs, and lets him crawl up into his lap. And Lex is--no other word for it, no way to say it--snuggly, soft and pliant and Clark can wrap himself around him, feel every breath.
Feel every shudder, when he's totally Clark's, body and soul.
And all it takes is his mouth.