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roxyI’m sorry, it did turn into a big long thing. Thanks a million for the interest and the lively comments—ya’ll crack me up! And this time, I can guarantee an unambiguously happy ending! YaY! (Unless something changes before the end…)
Ripley, Believe it Or Not…
Mom made him sit on the couch, and fussed all over him and wrapped a blanket around him, and Dad kind of hovered in the background, looking alternately queasy and terrified. Yeah. He got that.
He had a big mug of hot cocoa in his hand, but he figured that was mostly because Mom didn’t know what else to do. Actually, the heat against his palms felt pretty good, kind of soothing. He took a little sip. Delicious. Wondered if he could get a few rings of green pepper in it…or maybe some seafood…
“Clark! “
“--I’m sorry—what, Mom?”
“Clark, are you…I don’t even know what to ask. Are you okay, are you…holding up?”
He stared at her, her look of concern tinged with fear—for him---and really had no idea what to say. He wanted to reassure her but there was a little core of him that was mad at her. “Sure Mom, I’m only pregnant. I hope. Why shouldn’t I be fine?” He felt an instant flare of guilt. There really wasn’t anything she could do or could have done, fucking stupid Kryptonians, and being nasty to her wasn’t going to help anything. “”Really, Mom, I’m okay. I guess.” He smiled weakly at her.
Dad came up behind Mom, and put his hands on her shoulders. It was obvious he was having a hard time processing this, hell, at least Mom had some vague idea of what was going on, but Dad…
“Pregnant. By—did it happen by…by yourself?” Dad asked, and Clark and his mom turned to stare at him.
“By…hunh?”
“Jonathan…”
“I—hey, don’t look at me like that--” He pointed at Clark ”—he’s pregnant, what do we know about all this? Anything is possible—and mind you, Son, nothing has changed for me, you understand? Your mom and I love you just the same. As ever. Always.” His head was nodding like those annoying bobble head dolls Pete used to keep in his car’s rear window…Pete.
Clark sobbed once, bit his lip and dropped his head. “No, not by myself…I think it was…”
His dad jumped in. “It wasn’t that Luthor was it?”
“DAD! Dad, it wasn’t Lex! I’m not gay. Do you think I’m gay because of this? Because I’m not. I’m fairly certain I’m not…what if it had been Lex—could it have been Lex? Clark shook himself. His mind kept wandering. Was that normal—oh god, don’t start laughing again, it’s scary when it won’t stop….
“Can you tell us who it was, dear?”
“I’ve only had sex with one person. Lana.”
“What? Her? But she’s so…so…I’ll kill her.”
“Mom! It wasn’t her fault! How could she know? Besides,” he said, a strange satisfaction filling him, “she *really* wasn’t—you know. A virgin. Really not. She’s been around the block a time or five.”
“Oh, yeah,” his mom said, leaning forward. “You know, I always had the feeling, that heifer was too good to be true--”
“Hello? Back to the point?” his dad cut in. “Never mind Lana, except—you should know better, boy, what were all the safe sex lectures about? And don’t tell me about the heat of the moment, I *know* about the heat of the moment--”
Clark wondered why meteor mutants never broke in on him when he was having a *bad* time.
Mom patted him on the leg and squeezed his ankle. “Sweetie, we’ll handle this. We’ve dealt with everything so far, we can deal with this.”
Of course she was wrong.
******
Clark marked the one hundredth and fifty-third (Lana-less) day off the calendar and leaned his head against the wall. He had no idea why he kept doing that. She’d stopped mattering to him a while ago. He didn’t even want to hear from her, most of the time. It was just…she’d been the last person to be nice to him—he laughed. Sure. Nice to him.
He stared at the plate of eggs and toast waiting for him, a tiny bowl of sliced peaches right next to it, peeled and cut into perfect slices just like he liked it, and he felt his eyes flood with tears. Mom loved him. Wonderful, he was losing his mind more and more every day. Stupid peaches. He sniffed and rubbed his hand over his eyes. Stupid commercial with the dancing elephant that for some darn reason made him cry…stupid life!
School was getting harder and harder to deal with. Most of the time he was so tired, he could barely get through class, or he was weepy or crabby…his back hurt and he didn’t know why. Wasn’t like his pelvis was spreading or anything…he sighed. And he knew way more than he ever wanted to know about pregnancy. Human women pregnancy. Which wasn’t much help to him. He bit on a peach slice and chewed thoughtfully. He had to admit, the prenatal vitamins and the iron pills really helped cut down the oddball cravings. And thinking about that—Clark got the bottles out of the cabinet t and shook one each into his hand. Thank god for the internet, he thought and swallowed the pills.
He pulled a tee shirt over the long sleeved henley he wore, and buttoned up the extra-extra large flannel. This wasn’t going to work a whole lot longer he thought. He shouldered his bag and allowed himself a minute in which to feel totally sorry for himself. God, life sucked so bad and he had to swim through the suckage by himself…
His mom came up and hugged him. “Did you eat?” she asked. “Enough?” she asked again when Clark nodded yes.
“Yes Mom. I ate enough for a small army.”
“Good.” She kissed his cheek. “Don’t miss the bus, sweetie.”
******
After school, he had a serious craving for hot cocoa, so he got off the bus in town. He walked along the main street, humming not show tunes to himself, and window-shopping. He stopped and looked for a long time at the display in Denton Sports. He shrugged and moved on, not thinking about anything in particular, just letting his brain rest, when something grabbed him by the face and made every part of him tingle. Hard on. He had an instant, rock hard, ‘oh my god, fuck right now!’ erection. He stood rooted to the spot; unable to move as the most wonderful smell in the whole world stuffed itself up his nose…cinnamon buns. Oh…my…God…his mouth watered and his nostrils flared. He had to have one right now—he refused to think about the fact he’d gotten hard smelling cinnamon buns. He was not effing ruining cinnamon buns for himself.
He moved closer to the smell and found himself near the doorway of the Talon and then…Lex walked out of the Talon, and another scent wafted toward him and decided not to waste time with nostrils and sinuses and all that and just went straight to his cock. His sadly weeping cock. *That* was the smell—that was the smell that made him feel like his cock was about to burst, and he was momentarily, insanely, happy that it wasn’t cinnamon buns giving him a hard on…he’s looking this way!
Lex looked at him and his eyes brightened, and just at that moment, Ripley rolled over and Clark grimaced.
Lex jerked his head back and Clark swore he saw in the space of a second, hurt and sad and fury and then a sarcastic sneer settled on his features. But Clark was sure for a moment, he’d been happy to see him, until he blew it of course—
“Lex!”
Lex was gone, into his car and roaring past without a glance.
Clark watched his taillights disappearing down the street. He pressed his hand flat against his navel, right over the swell. “I fucking hate you, Ripley.”
Clark felt an all too familiar wave of emotion roll over him. God, screwy hormones. He didn’t know how women did it, this constant storm of moodiness. LexHe trudged into the Talon, and sat in a booth in the back and tried to read the menu. Bacon and Lex…EngLex muffin…he gave up and threw the menu on the table. Right. “Cocoa,” he muttered when the waitress asked what he wanted.
He watched a bunch of kids from the high school, sitting a few tables over, laughing and carrying on, and it made him terribly sad. There, that’s what he should be doing, sitting over there, sitting with friends and drinking sodas and flirting with…God…flirting with one of those guys. Hell of a time to find out he was gay. Now, when he was fat and weepy and nuts. He sighed. Yep. Nuts *and* pathetic.
He sipped at his cocoa for a bit, stared into its dark chocolate depths and wished that five months ago, he’d known he would end up like this. He’d never have told Lex…he sighed. On the other hand, it might have been the only smart decision he’d made that day.
He heaved another huge sigh and looked up. Oh crap. Jordan was glaring at him. He must have thought he was staring at him. Damn. He was getting up, and motioning back a couple of the other guys. “I’ll handle this,” Clark heard and closed his eyes. Shoot. Trouble.
Jordan was in front of him. “Look, you faggot, you keep staring at me and see what happens, you hear?
Clark stood and grabbed his bag. “I wasn’t looking at you—I was just…looking.” He tried to move past Jordan and he pushed Clark, pulled his fist back and punched his shoulder.
Clark watched the huge fist come flying at him and wondered how he was going to act like it hurt, worried if Jordan was going to injure himself and then—“Yow!”
He yelped, staggered a bit and grabbed his shoulder, shocked to his core. That had kind of…hurt. “Ow,” he mumbled and rolled his shoulder, and was momentarily distracted when Ripley fluttered again. “Behave yourself.”
Jordan was looking at him oddly when Clark looked up again.
“What do you mean—and ow? That’s it?”
Clark frowned. “Ow, ow, is that better?” He rubbed his belly. Ripley was really active today. “Look, I’m sorry if my eyeballs bother you. I really don’t have the time for a fight.” He pushed an arm through the strap of his bag. “And just so you know, none of you guys have to worry, you’re not at all my type.“ he thought about the way Lex did that…walk…”So not my type,” he repeated and shuddered.
Jordan stared for a moment, obviously torn between affront and amusement and then laughed. “Okay, Kent. Okay. Damn, it’s not like I’m Quasimodo or something---don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I’m not your type--and just so you’re clear, I’m not gay.”
“Aw, big effing shame, that. Yeah. I kind of figured.”
He laughed and then looked at Clark curiously. “Whitney always used to say that you were trying to steal his girl, and you used to hang out with that ditzy blonde all the time, I figured you were hitting that. But…you really are? Gay, I mean?”
Clark looked into his eyes and said with a touch of defiance, “Yeah.”
Jordan shook his head. “Well, you’re no pussy, that’s for sure.”
Clark winced a little and gulped the last cold dregs of his cocoa. “Yeah,” he said. “Sure.”
“Listen, I’m going back there and I’m going to tell them we’re cool, ‘cause I’m a real great guy. Just—stop making me nervous, okay?” And he grinned at Clark.
Clark smiled. “Yeah, well thanks, I guess.”
Jordan went back to his table and Clark watched the quick argument that Jordan won by slapping one of the guys on the back of the head. He grinned. Maybe he’d just made a…not-so-much-an enemy.
******
“You know, when I was a kid, they used to send the girls to ‘secretarial school’,” and Clark could hear the quotes.
“Yes,” Mom said, “well, those were the bad old days, nowadays we just stone those sluts in the public square.”
“I wasn’t saying I condoned that attitude,” Dad protested.
“I don’t think there’s much point to this conversation.”
Clark nodded in agreement from his spot at the top of the stairs, hidden in the dark. He gulped the glass of milk down and wondered--what the fuck were they all going to do? They’d been dancing around the thing for the last month. He was really kind of starting to show now. What the hell was he going to do? How was he going to finish school? How was he going to take care of it? He swallowed. Did he have to take care of it? It rolled a bit and Clark felt guilty. Of course he’d take care of it. Unless…unless it planned to eat it’s way out.
He shuddered.
Not really funny, Kent.
He walked back to his room, lay on his bed, and groaned like a hundred year old man. He huffed a time or two and then did all those relaxation breathing things he read about.
Some sites he’d been to said talk to the baby.
He did.
“You know why I hate you Ripley? Because you’re turning me into a monster. Even my folks look at me and see a monster. It was a little easier before but now…” He rubbed carefully over the tight swelling, crooning as he spoke. Hey, tone was important, he figured, not words…”I hate you, because all my friends are gone and I can’t risk making new ones and I hate you for making me gay. Okay, maybe that was Lana’s fault, but still,” he sighed and eased to his side, shoved a pillow behind his aching back, “I hate you because I shouldn’t have to know that massaging my belly in a tub of hot water makes cramps go away.” He said,” I hate you because when you’re born, I won’t ever be able to pretend I’m normal again. You’ll make sure of that.”
Ripley turned, and Clark smoothed his hand over the swelling. He grimaced. Lately, he’d found out that an orgasm not only made his back feel better, it stopped it—the—Ripley from moving so much. Besides, it made him feel better. He sat up and reached for his tissues, and lotion. He plopped back down on the bed with a sigh and tried to ignore that evil little voice that lived in the back of his head. you got an audience it snickered. He hated that voice even more than he hated Ripley.
He closed his eyes and thought good thoughts. He thought about being in a shower with Wil Smith…tried to imagine Wil’s hand where his was. His knuckles brushed the ridge and he groaned softly. Every touch to it magnified every stroke of his cock. Fantasy Wil was damn good at this. He felt his ass clench and relax, he was getting closer, Wil was sliding to his knees and licking him from head to root, and his tongue did this swirly thing that he read about online and sounded real good---he wanted to try that with someone—
His hips jerked and his cock drooled and drooled, ever since he’d gotten…er…it was ridiculous how much precome he produced. It was slick now, really wet, and he jerked faster and faster, not as fast as he used to be able to, not with the partial loss of his powers but fast enough. He grunted on each down stroke, and Wil was begging him to fuck him, now right now, only Wil sounded more like him and looked like him and Lex was standing in back of him, pressing his cock into his hole, growling ‘Ready for this, Clark?’
“Oohhh, fuck yeah…yeah…” Clark missed the tissue, not that it would have helped. A jet of come shot out of his cock and reached for the stars, but mostly splattered, warm and thick, all over his chest and face and belly, and in rapid succession spurt two, three, four times before finally subsiding. Clark panted hard, he felt flooded with a wonderful sense of well-being. He thought about cleaning up, In a minute, really,and passed out with a contented smile.
Stay tuned for part three!
I've been trying to catch up with all the fic today and therre's just so much and it's all so good! I hope I can get to all the stories and comment on everything tomorrow! What amazing stories!
also, VENTURE BROS! JUNE 25!!!!!!!
Ripley, Believe it Or Not…
Mom made him sit on the couch, and fussed all over him and wrapped a blanket around him, and Dad kind of hovered in the background, looking alternately queasy and terrified. Yeah. He got that.
He had a big mug of hot cocoa in his hand, but he figured that was mostly because Mom didn’t know what else to do. Actually, the heat against his palms felt pretty good, kind of soothing. He took a little sip. Delicious. Wondered if he could get a few rings of green pepper in it…or maybe some seafood…
“Clark! “
“--I’m sorry—what, Mom?”
“Clark, are you…I don’t even know what to ask. Are you okay, are you…holding up?”
He stared at her, her look of concern tinged with fear—for him---and really had no idea what to say. He wanted to reassure her but there was a little core of him that was mad at her. “Sure Mom, I’m only pregnant. I hope. Why shouldn’t I be fine?” He felt an instant flare of guilt. There really wasn’t anything she could do or could have done, fucking stupid Kryptonians, and being nasty to her wasn’t going to help anything. “”Really, Mom, I’m okay. I guess.” He smiled weakly at her.
Dad came up behind Mom, and put his hands on her shoulders. It was obvious he was having a hard time processing this, hell, at least Mom had some vague idea of what was going on, but Dad…
“Pregnant. By—did it happen by…by yourself?” Dad asked, and Clark and his mom turned to stare at him.
“By…hunh?”
“Jonathan…”
“I—hey, don’t look at me like that--” He pointed at Clark ”—he’s pregnant, what do we know about all this? Anything is possible—and mind you, Son, nothing has changed for me, you understand? Your mom and I love you just the same. As ever. Always.” His head was nodding like those annoying bobble head dolls Pete used to keep in his car’s rear window…Pete.
Clark sobbed once, bit his lip and dropped his head. “No, not by myself…I think it was…”
His dad jumped in. “It wasn’t that Luthor was it?”
“DAD! Dad, it wasn’t Lex! I’m not gay. Do you think I’m gay because of this? Because I’m not. I’m fairly certain I’m not…what if it had been Lex—could it have been Lex? Clark shook himself. His mind kept wandering. Was that normal—oh god, don’t start laughing again, it’s scary when it won’t stop….
“Can you tell us who it was, dear?”
“I’ve only had sex with one person. Lana.”
“What? Her? But she’s so…so…I’ll kill her.”
“Mom! It wasn’t her fault! How could she know? Besides,” he said, a strange satisfaction filling him, “she *really* wasn’t—you know. A virgin. Really not. She’s been around the block a time or five.”
“Oh, yeah,” his mom said, leaning forward. “You know, I always had the feeling, that heifer was too good to be true--”
“Hello? Back to the point?” his dad cut in. “Never mind Lana, except—you should know better, boy, what were all the safe sex lectures about? And don’t tell me about the heat of the moment, I *know* about the heat of the moment--”
Clark wondered why meteor mutants never broke in on him when he was having a *bad* time.
Mom patted him on the leg and squeezed his ankle. “Sweetie, we’ll handle this. We’ve dealt with everything so far, we can deal with this.”
Of course she was wrong.
******
Clark marked the one hundredth and fifty-third (Lana-less) day off the calendar and leaned his head against the wall. He had no idea why he kept doing that. She’d stopped mattering to him a while ago. He didn’t even want to hear from her, most of the time. It was just…she’d been the last person to be nice to him—he laughed. Sure. Nice to him.
He stared at the plate of eggs and toast waiting for him, a tiny bowl of sliced peaches right next to it, peeled and cut into perfect slices just like he liked it, and he felt his eyes flood with tears. Mom loved him. Wonderful, he was losing his mind more and more every day. Stupid peaches. He sniffed and rubbed his hand over his eyes. Stupid commercial with the dancing elephant that for some darn reason made him cry…stupid life!
School was getting harder and harder to deal with. Most of the time he was so tired, he could barely get through class, or he was weepy or crabby…his back hurt and he didn’t know why. Wasn’t like his pelvis was spreading or anything…he sighed. And he knew way more than he ever wanted to know about pregnancy. Human women pregnancy. Which wasn’t much help to him. He bit on a peach slice and chewed thoughtfully. He had to admit, the prenatal vitamins and the iron pills really helped cut down the oddball cravings. And thinking about that—Clark got the bottles out of the cabinet t and shook one each into his hand. Thank god for the internet, he thought and swallowed the pills.
He pulled a tee shirt over the long sleeved henley he wore, and buttoned up the extra-extra large flannel. This wasn’t going to work a whole lot longer he thought. He shouldered his bag and allowed himself a minute in which to feel totally sorry for himself. God, life sucked so bad and he had to swim through the suckage by himself…
His mom came up and hugged him. “Did you eat?” she asked. “Enough?” she asked again when Clark nodded yes.
“Yes Mom. I ate enough for a small army.”
“Good.” She kissed his cheek. “Don’t miss the bus, sweetie.”
******
After school, he had a serious craving for hot cocoa, so he got off the bus in town. He walked along the main street, humming not show tunes to himself, and window-shopping. He stopped and looked for a long time at the display in Denton Sports. He shrugged and moved on, not thinking about anything in particular, just letting his brain rest, when something grabbed him by the face and made every part of him tingle. Hard on. He had an instant, rock hard, ‘oh my god, fuck right now!’ erection. He stood rooted to the spot; unable to move as the most wonderful smell in the whole world stuffed itself up his nose…cinnamon buns. Oh…my…God…his mouth watered and his nostrils flared. He had to have one right now—he refused to think about the fact he’d gotten hard smelling cinnamon buns. He was not effing ruining cinnamon buns for himself.
He moved closer to the smell and found himself near the doorway of the Talon and then…Lex walked out of the Talon, and another scent wafted toward him and decided not to waste time with nostrils and sinuses and all that and just went straight to his cock. His sadly weeping cock. *That* was the smell—that was the smell that made him feel like his cock was about to burst, and he was momentarily, insanely, happy that it wasn’t cinnamon buns giving him a hard on…he’s looking this way!
Lex looked at him and his eyes brightened, and just at that moment, Ripley rolled over and Clark grimaced.
Lex jerked his head back and Clark swore he saw in the space of a second, hurt and sad and fury and then a sarcastic sneer settled on his features. But Clark was sure for a moment, he’d been happy to see him, until he blew it of course—
“Lex!”
Lex was gone, into his car and roaring past without a glance.
Clark watched his taillights disappearing down the street. He pressed his hand flat against his navel, right over the swell. “I fucking hate you, Ripley.”
Clark felt an all too familiar wave of emotion roll over him. God, screwy hormones. He didn’t know how women did it, this constant storm of moodiness. LexHe trudged into the Talon, and sat in a booth in the back and tried to read the menu. Bacon and Lex…EngLex muffin…he gave up and threw the menu on the table. Right. “Cocoa,” he muttered when the waitress asked what he wanted.
He watched a bunch of kids from the high school, sitting a few tables over, laughing and carrying on, and it made him terribly sad. There, that’s what he should be doing, sitting over there, sitting with friends and drinking sodas and flirting with…God…flirting with one of those guys. Hell of a time to find out he was gay. Now, when he was fat and weepy and nuts. He sighed. Yep. Nuts *and* pathetic.
He sipped at his cocoa for a bit, stared into its dark chocolate depths and wished that five months ago, he’d known he would end up like this. He’d never have told Lex…he sighed. On the other hand, it might have been the only smart decision he’d made that day.
He heaved another huge sigh and looked up. Oh crap. Jordan was glaring at him. He must have thought he was staring at him. Damn. He was getting up, and motioning back a couple of the other guys. “I’ll handle this,” Clark heard and closed his eyes. Shoot. Trouble.
Jordan was in front of him. “Look, you faggot, you keep staring at me and see what happens, you hear?
Clark stood and grabbed his bag. “I wasn’t looking at you—I was just…looking.” He tried to move past Jordan and he pushed Clark, pulled his fist back and punched his shoulder.
Clark watched the huge fist come flying at him and wondered how he was going to act like it hurt, worried if Jordan was going to injure himself and then—“Yow!”
He yelped, staggered a bit and grabbed his shoulder, shocked to his core. That had kind of…hurt. “Ow,” he mumbled and rolled his shoulder, and was momentarily distracted when Ripley fluttered again. “Behave yourself.”
Jordan was looking at him oddly when Clark looked up again.
“What do you mean—and ow? That’s it?”
Clark frowned. “Ow, ow, is that better?” He rubbed his belly. Ripley was really active today. “Look, I’m sorry if my eyeballs bother you. I really don’t have the time for a fight.” He pushed an arm through the strap of his bag. “And just so you know, none of you guys have to worry, you’re not at all my type.“ he thought about the way Lex did that…walk…”So not my type,” he repeated and shuddered.
Jordan stared for a moment, obviously torn between affront and amusement and then laughed. “Okay, Kent. Okay. Damn, it’s not like I’m Quasimodo or something---don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I’m not your type--and just so you’re clear, I’m not gay.”
“Aw, big effing shame, that. Yeah. I kind of figured.”
He laughed and then looked at Clark curiously. “Whitney always used to say that you were trying to steal his girl, and you used to hang out with that ditzy blonde all the time, I figured you were hitting that. But…you really are? Gay, I mean?”
Clark looked into his eyes and said with a touch of defiance, “Yeah.”
Jordan shook his head. “Well, you’re no pussy, that’s for sure.”
Clark winced a little and gulped the last cold dregs of his cocoa. “Yeah,” he said. “Sure.”
“Listen, I’m going back there and I’m going to tell them we’re cool, ‘cause I’m a real great guy. Just—stop making me nervous, okay?” And he grinned at Clark.
Clark smiled. “Yeah, well thanks, I guess.”
Jordan went back to his table and Clark watched the quick argument that Jordan won by slapping one of the guys on the back of the head. He grinned. Maybe he’d just made a…not-so-much-an enemy.
******
“You know, when I was a kid, they used to send the girls to ‘secretarial school’,” and Clark could hear the quotes.
“Yes,” Mom said, “well, those were the bad old days, nowadays we just stone those sluts in the public square.”
“I wasn’t saying I condoned that attitude,” Dad protested.
“I don’t think there’s much point to this conversation.”
Clark nodded in agreement from his spot at the top of the stairs, hidden in the dark. He gulped the glass of milk down and wondered--what the fuck were they all going to do? They’d been dancing around the thing for the last month. He was really kind of starting to show now. What the hell was he going to do? How was he going to finish school? How was he going to take care of it? He swallowed. Did he have to take care of it? It rolled a bit and Clark felt guilty. Of course he’d take care of it. Unless…unless it planned to eat it’s way out.
He shuddered.
Not really funny, Kent.
He walked back to his room, lay on his bed, and groaned like a hundred year old man. He huffed a time or two and then did all those relaxation breathing things he read about.
Some sites he’d been to said talk to the baby.
He did.
“You know why I hate you Ripley? Because you’re turning me into a monster. Even my folks look at me and see a monster. It was a little easier before but now…” He rubbed carefully over the tight swelling, crooning as he spoke. Hey, tone was important, he figured, not words…”I hate you, because all my friends are gone and I can’t risk making new ones and I hate you for making me gay. Okay, maybe that was Lana’s fault, but still,” he sighed and eased to his side, shoved a pillow behind his aching back, “I hate you because I shouldn’t have to know that massaging my belly in a tub of hot water makes cramps go away.” He said,” I hate you because when you’re born, I won’t ever be able to pretend I’m normal again. You’ll make sure of that.”
Ripley turned, and Clark smoothed his hand over the swelling. He grimaced. Lately, he’d found out that an orgasm not only made his back feel better, it stopped it—the—Ripley from moving so much. Besides, it made him feel better. He sat up and reached for his tissues, and lotion. He plopped back down on the bed with a sigh and tried to ignore that evil little voice that lived in the back of his head. you got an audience it snickered. He hated that voice even more than he hated Ripley.
He closed his eyes and thought good thoughts. He thought about being in a shower with Wil Smith…tried to imagine Wil’s hand where his was. His knuckles brushed the ridge and he groaned softly. Every touch to it magnified every stroke of his cock. Fantasy Wil was damn good at this. He felt his ass clench and relax, he was getting closer, Wil was sliding to his knees and licking him from head to root, and his tongue did this swirly thing that he read about online and sounded real good---he wanted to try that with someone—
His hips jerked and his cock drooled and drooled, ever since he’d gotten…er…it was ridiculous how much precome he produced. It was slick now, really wet, and he jerked faster and faster, not as fast as he used to be able to, not with the partial loss of his powers but fast enough. He grunted on each down stroke, and Wil was begging him to fuck him, now right now, only Wil sounded more like him and looked like him and Lex was standing in back of him, pressing his cock into his hole, growling ‘Ready for this, Clark?’
“Oohhh, fuck yeah…yeah…” Clark missed the tissue, not that it would have helped. A jet of come shot out of his cock and reached for the stars, but mostly splattered, warm and thick, all over his chest and face and belly, and in rapid succession spurt two, three, four times before finally subsiding. Clark panted hard, he felt flooded with a wonderful sense of well-being. He thought about cleaning up, In a minute, really,and passed out with a contented smile.
Stay tuned for part three!
I've been trying to catch up with all the fic today and therre's just so much and it's all so good! I hope I can get to all the stories and comment on everything tomorrow! What amazing stories!
also, VENTURE BROS! JUNE 25!!!!!!!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
5/23/06 12:55 pm (UTC)I loved that the peaches almost made him cry. It's all so sweet and weird and wonderful and I love that Jordan is so in love with Clark (in my mind) and it broke my heart when Lex just drove off with his sexy self and I could not stop laughing when I read the line "a jet of come shot out of his cock and reached for the stars" *brain fizzle*
Wow. Mpreg. The new crack. I love it!! And dammit, I love you, too!!
(no subject)
5/23/06 05:15 pm (UTC)Great, great icon!