Ripley part 4
5/25/06 12:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyMore of the evil mpreg fic…
Jordan loves Clark—can we say redshirt?
Lex shows up.
Clark shows out.
Ripley wants cinnamon buns.
Ripley, Believe It Or Not
Clark thought that Jordan’s bed was much nicer than his. It was bigger for one thing, queen size, and the mattress was a lot nicer than his, too. He sighed. Geez, it felt so good. He had one pillow shoved under his head, another under his feet and control of the remote—what could be better?
Jordan came in with a giant bag of chips and salsa, and ice cream. Clark beamed. Besides that.
“Kent, you’re costing me a damn fortune, dude. Don’t you ever fucking eat at home, scoot over.” He dropped down on the edge of the bed, and kicked his shoes off. “What are we watching tonight, and if you say fucking Batman, I’m killing you.”
Clark grinned, started the movie and laughed when Jordan moaned as the too familiar sound track blared out.
“Geez, fuck—I’m so sick of this movie. Michael fucking Keaton—I hate him.”
“You’re just jealous,” Clark laughed and Jordan rolled to his side and with a look absolutely devoid of humor said, “Yeah, I am. I’m jealous of Michael Keaton. And Wil Smith. And Coby Bell and that fucking little fairy Elijah Wood…”
“Hobbit,” Clark muttered around a mouthful of ice cream.
“Yeah--fuck that hobbit. I’m jealous of that stupid kid at the Quick Shop who always checks out your crotch, and I’m really, really jealous of that fucking bald mother fucker who’s been stalking us from day one.”
Clark choked and dropped ice cream down the front of his extra tall big mans two ex tee shirt. “Who—Lex—isn’t gay…” He blushed and tried to scoop up the ice cream with his hand.
Jordan grabbed his hand. “He wants you. Bad. I can see it whenever he thinks we’re not looking and when he catches your eye, he acts like he hates you. He doesn’t hate you. He wants you so much *I* can taste It.” Jordan stared at him, and his eyes were so hot, so black…Clark gasped when Jordan grabbed his hand, shoved his fingers in his mouth, sucking away the ice-cream on them, licking them, rolling his tongue between them, teasing the web between his fingers—his tongue was so strong, he thought, so fierce…Clark’s heart was pounding, his mouth was dry and his cock was throbbing by the time Jordan let the fingers slide out of his mouth. They left a wet trail over his chin, and Clark could only stare at it, open mouthed and stupid with lust.
Jordan licked his lips and said, “You got ice-cream on your shirt.” He gripped the edge and started to lift and Clark yelled, “No! “ He tried to yank the shirt out of Jordan’s hand but he pushed Clark’s hands out of the way.
“What, let me look, you never let me look.” He pulled the shirt up and looked at the thick red ridge, touched it lightly. Clark managed not to move.
“I can feel it through your shirts…whenever I touch your stomach. What happened—did you have an accident or something?”
Clark nodded, and gasped, “Yes, yes, accident—farming accident. I—I got stabbed, in the stomach, rake, fork…pointy thing…”
“Man,” Jordan breathed, “Aren’t you glad it didn’t get your cock, or your nads—awfully close dude,” he said in a tone of reverent horror.
Clark closed his eyes and went for it. “Yeah, I got stabbed, and I lost, um...some intestine? And that’s why it moves? My stomach—when I’m digesting? It makes movement-- What the fuck? Where the hell did that come from? He’s so not going to buy that--
“Ooohh, *that’s* why—man, I was beginning to think you had something in there.”
Clark stared for a bit and then laughed. “Ah-ha! That’s crazy talk…but I’ll just go home now. I’m--“
Jordan pushed him back. “Let me see…” he looked hard at the red line, touched it and Clark squeezed his eyes shut. “Lift,” he heard, and he lifted his hips and Jordan slid the sweat pants down, freeing his dripping cock. He bent and breathed in deep, and touched his ridge with his nose. Rubbed his nose against Clark’s belly. “It’s…it’s really smooth, almost slick,” he said and his tongue slipped out and licked a narrow line up along it.
Clark cried out, and jerked uncontrollably, so Jordan did it again. And again, until Clark was crying and Jordan was squeezing his cock, and then, Jordan made time stop.
Clark knew he wasn’t breathing, knew his heart wasn’t beating, or his blood moving, he was deaf and his brain was useless …everything stopped while he looked down and watched Jordan suck his cock into his mouth. He watched it come out again, all shiny with spit, and pre-come rolled down the length and Jordan. Caught it. With his. Tongue.
Too much.
This—was the best. Blow Job ever. Ever.
It was the best blowjob ever and the second one he’d ever had.
His cock throbbed and spilled, shooting straight down Jordan’s throat, and he swallowed and swallowed, coughed, and swallowed some more.
Clark ground his teeth into the palm of his hand, and shook so hard, the bed creaked and he felt waves rolling over his stomach—oh fuck!
Jordan dropped his head on his thighs and shuddered. “Damn. Damn.” He pulled his hands up Clark’s legs and cradled his knees. “Jesus…that was…great. Damn. “ He turned bright red, and pressed his face against Clark’s leg. “You tasted good,” he whispered, and Clark laughed weakly.
“Yeah, you too.”
Jordan looked up, “How…”
And Clark licked his fingers
.
“Oh. Heh.”
Clark didn’t ask, he didn’t have to. He rolled Jordan to his back and pulled down his zipper, and pulled out his cock. He licked up one side, like Jordan had done, and sucked the tip into his mouth and licked again. He licked a little harder, and felt a wonderful surge when Jordan groaned. He licked a slow circle around the head of his cock, tasting, savoring the taste. And feeling more and more powerful with each moan he wrung from him.
“Please. Please.”
Clark opened his mouth and sunk down over Jordan, stopped when he felt him nudge the back of his throat and rested. Jordan yelped and bucked and Clark gagged, but clamped hands down on Jordan’s hips, and sucked and bobbed up and down on him, sucking and licking and loving the sounds he was pulling out of Jordan--he cursed and groaned, moaned and grabbed Clark’s head. Clark waited for him to shove his head down—but he just held it, fingers laced in his hair, and sighed. His cock jumped, and he spilled in Clark’s mouth.
After a bit, he sighed and petted Clark’s head, smoothing the hair back, rubbing his temples. He drew his thumb over his lips. He asked quietly, “That Luthor guy—why did you guys break up?”
“We didn’t break up. Not like that. We were friends, that’s all. Lex isn’t gay. He is a jerk, though. You wouldn’t believe what a jerk he is.”
Jordan just looked. “Uh-hunh. I’m gonna get something to drink. You coming?”
“Can I just lay here until you get back?”
“No, come on, fat boy, get some exercise.” He pulled Clark up to his feet, and they checked each other to make sure they were presentable.
“You know, Clark groaned as he stretched. That fat thing would really hurt my feelings if I weren’t sure of how crazy you are about me.” He grabbed his shoes and his jacket, and followed Jordan to the door.
“Tchah—what a little girl! Besides,” he said, “I’m sure you’ll pay me back.”.
Clark looked at him but he was grinning.
******
Dear Ripley.
Well, it’s been a while since I’ve done one of these but, I’ve been really busy…I’ve been helping a friend move…okay, when I say friend, it’s a little more than that. You know…I love someone, someone you’ll never meet…but this friend. I really care for him. A lot. I want it to be enough, you know…oh crap. That’s not what—in case you’re wondering, you’re making me look like a whale. Okay, not really, but I look like I’ve swallowed a cantaloupe. Good thing I wasn’t a vain kind of guy. And I think…you’re playing basketball. Ow.
click
*****
“Jordan, shut up. Really, I mean it. Okay. I’ll talk to you next time.” Clark put his phone back in his pocket and sighed. It was nice talking to him. He missed him. He’d been looking forward to seeing him next weekend, but so much for that. Jordan was a busy guy. Clark rested his chin on his fist. Yeah. He had a life, unlike some pathetic people who had to take their own selves to lunch. Alone. Oh well, think positive thoughts for the Ripley…eating alone—more food for me! He rubbed his stomach and sucked up the contents of a sugar packet as he read the menu—suddenly, his nose shut off his brain, and waited. Coming, coming...ah. There….
Lex was making his way past the tables, looking around with slightly raised eyebrows, as if he were surprised to find himself in such a plebian joint. Clark smiled, surprised himself at how much he missed that smirk. He waited for him to come close to his table but Lex glanced toward him and away, as if he wasn’t even there. Clark felt a pain, right under his ribs, a pain that rose up into his throat.
Lex took his time placing an order, and turned, leaned slightly against the bar.
Looked right at Clark.
Clark felt red bloom in his cheeks, and fought the urge to drop his eyes. Just because he was wearing a huge sweatshirt, and track pants, and rubber flip-flops, which anyone else would wear if their feet hurt non-stop like his did and these had those little nubbies inside that made his feet feel like they were getting million little massages when he walked…massage…He felt himself getting a little hard, and sniffed up that wonderful smell that was short circuiting his brain, and got a lot hard.
Shit.
Double shit. Lex was coming his way. Clark was even more aware of the fact that his hair looked like he’d up-ended a bottle of oil into it but—that was Ripley’s fault. She was screwing up…everything. He tried to subtly pull his sweatshirt down over his belly, and like an eagle, Lex picked up the movement and raised an eyebrow. He was about to walk past when a combination of lust and nerves made Clark speak.
“Lex.”
Lex stopped as if he’d been slapped and turned. Looked at Clark in that special way that said, you’re dirt, but if you can amuse me, I might allow you to live. Might. “Yes?”
Clark heard it all in that single ‘Yes’—‘You’re speaking to me. You think you have the right to speak to me? Weren’t you the one who said this friendship is over? Weren’t you the one to snub and ignore me after all…”Lex—Lex, can I--”
Lex held his hand up. “No, Clark, let me guess, you need something? Something has gone wrong and you need to throw money at it?” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a slim black wallet, opened it, pulled a few impossibly crisp bills from it. Clark wondered wildly if he had his money literally laundered,
Lex leaned close, and said softly, “Or did your boyfriend stand you up, Clark? No money for coffee?” and two dollar bills fluttered to the table. “Wait, you look like you’re pretty used to having something to go with that coffee. Enjoy.” A twenty landed on top of the singles.
Clark felt tears fill his eyes so fast it almost hurt, and he couldn’t breathe around the huge painful lump in his throat. He looked up at Lex, and for a moment, Lex looked—awful. Pale and stunned and--awful, and then he was gone.
Lex was a bitch. Why did it surprise him? Well, fuck him. Lex was mean and sarcastic, and never let a slight go by without some kind of retaliation. Lex held a grudge. Lex never let go. Clark blinked, and a fat tear dropped onto the table. He got up, hesitated, and swept the money off the table. Principles were fine and all, but he was hungry, god damn it.
He wandered over to Fordman’s, nibbling at the cinnamon roll he’d bought with Lex’s money. He walked around the aisles, bought a pack of tee-shirts, a bag of socks and casually strolled over to the infants department. He stood looking at a peg board display of packaged infant tees and sleepers. They came in pink, white, blue and yellow. Yellow must be the neutral color. Or the in-between, he snorted. Immediately froze…naaaah.
He put his hand on a package of pink sleepers, and saw a little bag thing hanging below it. It looked like a dress with a string in the bottom. It was lilac, and had purple crowns on it. Tiny purple crowns. With little yellow jewels on it. Purple. His eyes swam, and he had to promise certain death to himself and a certain alien baby someone before he was able to control himself.
He pulled the remainder of Lex’s money out of his pocket and counted. Just enough. He grinned. Somehow, it just seemed right.
“Look, Ripley,” he whispered. ”Uncle Lex bought you your first present.” He grabbed a pack of pacifiers too.
*****
tbc
Jordan loves Clark—can we say redshirt?
Lex shows up.
Clark shows out.
Ripley wants cinnamon buns.
Ripley, Believe It Or Not
Clark thought that Jordan’s bed was much nicer than his. It was bigger for one thing, queen size, and the mattress was a lot nicer than his, too. He sighed. Geez, it felt so good. He had one pillow shoved under his head, another under his feet and control of the remote—what could be better?
Jordan came in with a giant bag of chips and salsa, and ice cream. Clark beamed. Besides that.
“Kent, you’re costing me a damn fortune, dude. Don’t you ever fucking eat at home, scoot over.” He dropped down on the edge of the bed, and kicked his shoes off. “What are we watching tonight, and if you say fucking Batman, I’m killing you.”
Clark grinned, started the movie and laughed when Jordan moaned as the too familiar sound track blared out.
“Geez, fuck—I’m so sick of this movie. Michael fucking Keaton—I hate him.”
“You’re just jealous,” Clark laughed and Jordan rolled to his side and with a look absolutely devoid of humor said, “Yeah, I am. I’m jealous of Michael Keaton. And Wil Smith. And Coby Bell and that fucking little fairy Elijah Wood…”
“Hobbit,” Clark muttered around a mouthful of ice cream.
“Yeah--fuck that hobbit. I’m jealous of that stupid kid at the Quick Shop who always checks out your crotch, and I’m really, really jealous of that fucking bald mother fucker who’s been stalking us from day one.”
Clark choked and dropped ice cream down the front of his extra tall big mans two ex tee shirt. “Who—Lex—isn’t gay…” He blushed and tried to scoop up the ice cream with his hand.
Jordan grabbed his hand. “He wants you. Bad. I can see it whenever he thinks we’re not looking and when he catches your eye, he acts like he hates you. He doesn’t hate you. He wants you so much *I* can taste It.” Jordan stared at him, and his eyes were so hot, so black…Clark gasped when Jordan grabbed his hand, shoved his fingers in his mouth, sucking away the ice-cream on them, licking them, rolling his tongue between them, teasing the web between his fingers—his tongue was so strong, he thought, so fierce…Clark’s heart was pounding, his mouth was dry and his cock was throbbing by the time Jordan let the fingers slide out of his mouth. They left a wet trail over his chin, and Clark could only stare at it, open mouthed and stupid with lust.
Jordan licked his lips and said, “You got ice-cream on your shirt.” He gripped the edge and started to lift and Clark yelled, “No! “ He tried to yank the shirt out of Jordan’s hand but he pushed Clark’s hands out of the way.
“What, let me look, you never let me look.” He pulled the shirt up and looked at the thick red ridge, touched it lightly. Clark managed not to move.
“I can feel it through your shirts…whenever I touch your stomach. What happened—did you have an accident or something?”
Clark nodded, and gasped, “Yes, yes, accident—farming accident. I—I got stabbed, in the stomach, rake, fork…pointy thing…”
“Man,” Jordan breathed, “Aren’t you glad it didn’t get your cock, or your nads—awfully close dude,” he said in a tone of reverent horror.
Clark closed his eyes and went for it. “Yeah, I got stabbed, and I lost, um...some intestine? And that’s why it moves? My stomach—when I’m digesting? It makes movement-- What the fuck? Where the hell did that come from? He’s so not going to buy that--
“Ooohh, *that’s* why—man, I was beginning to think you had something in there.”
Clark stared for a bit and then laughed. “Ah-ha! That’s crazy talk…but I’ll just go home now. I’m--“
Jordan pushed him back. “Let me see…” he looked hard at the red line, touched it and Clark squeezed his eyes shut. “Lift,” he heard, and he lifted his hips and Jordan slid the sweat pants down, freeing his dripping cock. He bent and breathed in deep, and touched his ridge with his nose. Rubbed his nose against Clark’s belly. “It’s…it’s really smooth, almost slick,” he said and his tongue slipped out and licked a narrow line up along it.
Clark cried out, and jerked uncontrollably, so Jordan did it again. And again, until Clark was crying and Jordan was squeezing his cock, and then, Jordan made time stop.
Clark knew he wasn’t breathing, knew his heart wasn’t beating, or his blood moving, he was deaf and his brain was useless …everything stopped while he looked down and watched Jordan suck his cock into his mouth. He watched it come out again, all shiny with spit, and pre-come rolled down the length and Jordan. Caught it. With his. Tongue.
Too much.
This—was the best. Blow Job ever. Ever.
It was the best blowjob ever and the second one he’d ever had.
His cock throbbed and spilled, shooting straight down Jordan’s throat, and he swallowed and swallowed, coughed, and swallowed some more.
Clark ground his teeth into the palm of his hand, and shook so hard, the bed creaked and he felt waves rolling over his stomach—oh fuck!
Jordan dropped his head on his thighs and shuddered. “Damn. Damn.” He pulled his hands up Clark’s legs and cradled his knees. “Jesus…that was…great. Damn. “ He turned bright red, and pressed his face against Clark’s leg. “You tasted good,” he whispered, and Clark laughed weakly.
“Yeah, you too.”
Jordan looked up, “How…”
And Clark licked his fingers
.
“Oh. Heh.”
Clark didn’t ask, he didn’t have to. He rolled Jordan to his back and pulled down his zipper, and pulled out his cock. He licked up one side, like Jordan had done, and sucked the tip into his mouth and licked again. He licked a little harder, and felt a wonderful surge when Jordan groaned. He licked a slow circle around the head of his cock, tasting, savoring the taste. And feeling more and more powerful with each moan he wrung from him.
“Please. Please.”
Clark opened his mouth and sunk down over Jordan, stopped when he felt him nudge the back of his throat and rested. Jordan yelped and bucked and Clark gagged, but clamped hands down on Jordan’s hips, and sucked and bobbed up and down on him, sucking and licking and loving the sounds he was pulling out of Jordan--he cursed and groaned, moaned and grabbed Clark’s head. Clark waited for him to shove his head down—but he just held it, fingers laced in his hair, and sighed. His cock jumped, and he spilled in Clark’s mouth.
After a bit, he sighed and petted Clark’s head, smoothing the hair back, rubbing his temples. He drew his thumb over his lips. He asked quietly, “That Luthor guy—why did you guys break up?”
“We didn’t break up. Not like that. We were friends, that’s all. Lex isn’t gay. He is a jerk, though. You wouldn’t believe what a jerk he is.”
Jordan just looked. “Uh-hunh. I’m gonna get something to drink. You coming?”
“Can I just lay here until you get back?”
“No, come on, fat boy, get some exercise.” He pulled Clark up to his feet, and they checked each other to make sure they were presentable.
“You know, Clark groaned as he stretched. That fat thing would really hurt my feelings if I weren’t sure of how crazy you are about me.” He grabbed his shoes and his jacket, and followed Jordan to the door.
“Tchah—what a little girl! Besides,” he said, “I’m sure you’ll pay me back.”.
Clark looked at him but he was grinning.
******
Dear Ripley.
Well, it’s been a while since I’ve done one of these but, I’ve been really busy…I’ve been helping a friend move…okay, when I say friend, it’s a little more than that. You know…I love someone, someone you’ll never meet…but this friend. I really care for him. A lot. I want it to be enough, you know…oh crap. That’s not what—in case you’re wondering, you’re making me look like a whale. Okay, not really, but I look like I’ve swallowed a cantaloupe. Good thing I wasn’t a vain kind of guy. And I think…you’re playing basketball. Ow.
click
*****
“Jordan, shut up. Really, I mean it. Okay. I’ll talk to you next time.” Clark put his phone back in his pocket and sighed. It was nice talking to him. He missed him. He’d been looking forward to seeing him next weekend, but so much for that. Jordan was a busy guy. Clark rested his chin on his fist. Yeah. He had a life, unlike some pathetic people who had to take their own selves to lunch. Alone. Oh well, think positive thoughts for the Ripley…eating alone—more food for me! He rubbed his stomach and sucked up the contents of a sugar packet as he read the menu—suddenly, his nose shut off his brain, and waited. Coming, coming...ah. There….
Lex was making his way past the tables, looking around with slightly raised eyebrows, as if he were surprised to find himself in such a plebian joint. Clark smiled, surprised himself at how much he missed that smirk. He waited for him to come close to his table but Lex glanced toward him and away, as if he wasn’t even there. Clark felt a pain, right under his ribs, a pain that rose up into his throat.
Lex took his time placing an order, and turned, leaned slightly against the bar.
Looked right at Clark.
Clark felt red bloom in his cheeks, and fought the urge to drop his eyes. Just because he was wearing a huge sweatshirt, and track pants, and rubber flip-flops, which anyone else would wear if their feet hurt non-stop like his did and these had those little nubbies inside that made his feet feel like they were getting million little massages when he walked…massage…He felt himself getting a little hard, and sniffed up that wonderful smell that was short circuiting his brain, and got a lot hard.
Shit.
Double shit. Lex was coming his way. Clark was even more aware of the fact that his hair looked like he’d up-ended a bottle of oil into it but—that was Ripley’s fault. She was screwing up…everything. He tried to subtly pull his sweatshirt down over his belly, and like an eagle, Lex picked up the movement and raised an eyebrow. He was about to walk past when a combination of lust and nerves made Clark speak.
“Lex.”
Lex stopped as if he’d been slapped and turned. Looked at Clark in that special way that said, you’re dirt, but if you can amuse me, I might allow you to live. Might. “Yes?”
Clark heard it all in that single ‘Yes’—‘You’re speaking to me. You think you have the right to speak to me? Weren’t you the one who said this friendship is over? Weren’t you the one to snub and ignore me after all…”Lex—Lex, can I--”
Lex held his hand up. “No, Clark, let me guess, you need something? Something has gone wrong and you need to throw money at it?” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a slim black wallet, opened it, pulled a few impossibly crisp bills from it. Clark wondered wildly if he had his money literally laundered,
Lex leaned close, and said softly, “Or did your boyfriend stand you up, Clark? No money for coffee?” and two dollar bills fluttered to the table. “Wait, you look like you’re pretty used to having something to go with that coffee. Enjoy.” A twenty landed on top of the singles.
Clark felt tears fill his eyes so fast it almost hurt, and he couldn’t breathe around the huge painful lump in his throat. He looked up at Lex, and for a moment, Lex looked—awful. Pale and stunned and--awful, and then he was gone.
Lex was a bitch. Why did it surprise him? Well, fuck him. Lex was mean and sarcastic, and never let a slight go by without some kind of retaliation. Lex held a grudge. Lex never let go. Clark blinked, and a fat tear dropped onto the table. He got up, hesitated, and swept the money off the table. Principles were fine and all, but he was hungry, god damn it.
He wandered over to Fordman’s, nibbling at the cinnamon roll he’d bought with Lex’s money. He walked around the aisles, bought a pack of tee-shirts, a bag of socks and casually strolled over to the infants department. He stood looking at a peg board display of packaged infant tees and sleepers. They came in pink, white, blue and yellow. Yellow must be the neutral color. Or the in-between, he snorted. Immediately froze…naaaah.
He put his hand on a package of pink sleepers, and saw a little bag thing hanging below it. It looked like a dress with a string in the bottom. It was lilac, and had purple crowns on it. Tiny purple crowns. With little yellow jewels on it. Purple. His eyes swam, and he had to promise certain death to himself and a certain alien baby someone before he was able to control himself.
He pulled the remainder of Lex’s money out of his pocket and counted. Just enough. He grinned. Somehow, it just seemed right.
“Look, Ripley,” he whispered. ”Uncle Lex bought you your first present.” He grabbed a pack of pacifiers too.
*****
tbc
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
5/25/06 10:41 pm (UTC)2)A little thuggish. *nod* but sweet :)
3)come on now!
4)lol! yeah, he's an expressive guy!
5) you know what they say! *grin*
6) Ahh-hahahaaa!!!