fic post:Mariposa
1/6/07 12:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle:Mariposa
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Whit…
Rating: 5
Summary: Ecce potestas casei…which explains this AU version of Smallville.
I win! I finally got this bit out! Woo-hoo! *fistpumps--looks around to make sure no one saw--* hooo!
The Previous Parts are here, wondering if priests wear collars, why isn't it okay to spank them?
Clark hesitated and undid the belt; let it drop to the floor. The robe swung open and Whit inhaled. “You…” He reached out and splayed his fingers across Clark’s belly, drew his hand down to the base of his dick. He looked up. Clark’s head was tipped back, and his dick moved under his fingers, his hips moved. Whit leaned closer and kissed the dark coarse trail that grew upwards to his navel.
Clark gasped. “Whit, Whit…”
“I really love you.”
Clark stopped moving, and dropped his head to meet Whit’s eyes. He cradled his head in big warm hands, and Whit was stunned at the look in Clark’s eyes--love, it had to be love. Clark slipped to the floor, knelt on the blanket. He rested his hand over the bulge pressing against Whit’s fly; he pulled the zipper down, with a look of intense concentration. Slow precise movements brought down pants, boxers, Whit lifted to help. Clark smiled, his hands drifted up and down Whit’s thighs, over his dick with butterfly light touches until Whit grabbed them, said, “I’ll beg if you want me to, but I’d really like it if you blew me.”
“Gosh, Whitney, could you be more romantic? I’m just about overcome here.”
“God, shut the fuck up will you!” Whit laughed. “What do you want to me to say— you sultry goddess, worship me with your wine red lips…”
Clark looked up at Whit opened mouthed.
“What? I read some poetry from time to time.”
“No, I think you were *traumatized* by poetry at some point in your life. Therapy. That’s all I’m saying...”
Whit snorted and grabbed the back of Clark’s head, meaning to push him back down, but when his fingers slipped into the mass of Clark’s hair, soft, thick and warm, he found himself stroking. “Ah…Clark…”
“Sultry…geez, Whit.” Clark snorted but since he was inches from his dick it just sent lovely gusts of warmth over him. Clark bent, kissed the tip of Whit’s dick, teased his tongue along the length, slid the head into his mouth. Whit moaned, quietly as he could, watching as Clark circled the head of his dick with his fingers, tongued between fingers and the shaft, and took it as deep into his throat as he could, stopped to breathe with his hands resting on Whitney’s thighs.
Whitney pushed up into Clark’s mouth, his breath whistling through clenched teeth. He was trying not to make a sound, but he was helpless to hold back a gasp every time the head of his dick rubbed soft places inside, wet rolled down his shaft, and Clark chased it, licked it from his shaft, his balls...
The robe was spread around him on the floor and it looked like Clark was kneeling under a fall of scarlet petals. Poetry, he wanted to laugh, but it trailed from his lips in a moan. Clark lifted his head and the sight almost sent Whit over the edge--long black lashes swept pink flushed cheeks, serene, angelic—his eyes jerked away, settled on Clark’s mouth, bruise colored mouth, his swollen lips, wet and eager, stretched around his dick—so beautiful, so dirty--so fucking hot—but what made Whit shiver was the sight of Clark’s big, big hands spread on his thighs, his long fingers wrapped first around his dick and then moving back to dig into the muscles of his thighs, wrapping around the backs of his legs and lifting him to his mouth. He looked down, watched the play of tendons over the back of Clark’s huge hands, and came so suddenly and so hard, it startled a shout from him. He moaned, shaking and spurting down Clark’s throat, begging him to touch him, squeeze him, hurt him…
“Fuck Clark—I think I have a thing for your hands,” he gasped when he could speak again.
Clark jerked, and whisked his hands away, and Whitney grabbed them, kissed them, kissed the knuckles, bit lightly at his fingertips. He whispered. “Big hands. I love your hands. I feel like you’re holding all of me, when you touch me.” He sighed. “It’s nice to feel safe sometimes, Clark.”
“Whitney.” Clark grabbed him, and hugged him hard. “Whit…”
Whitney pulled Clark to his feet and then he kicked off boots and socks, stripped off t he rest of his clothing carelessly, doing a little bump and grind when Clark laughed at his eagerness. He pulled the butterfly robe off of Clark, threw it over the back of the couch. “You now?”
He loved the jerk, swell of Clark’s dick under his palm. He kissed him, smoothed the foreskin over the head, pulled it gently between his fingers, he teased it, rolling the loose skin, slipping his finger in and over the head, smooth as a plum, dark, and weeping, spilling precome, Whit caught the gushing liquid in his palm, rubbing it back over Clark’s shaft. “Wow, you really get wet, are all uncut guys like this?”
Clark froze and shivered. “How would I know,” he gasped, “I don’t know--”
“Okay, just wondering…shhh. Relax. It’s kind of sexy.” He tipped his palm to his face, and took a tentative lick, and thought that it tasted vaguely of ocean, and oranges. He pushed Clark back, spread all over him and grabbed his shoulders. “Kiss me,” he demanded. He sucked the last of the gloss from Clark’s mouth, the faint taste of his come from his tongue…he slid against him. “Fuck me,” he commanded.
“Yes, yes…” Clark shuddered all over, held Whit hard against him and thrust and thrust. They slid on the silk, sweat and precome dampening and spotting the fabric. Clark wrapped his arms around Whit’s neck, and moaned into his ear, “Harder, God, harder….” and pushed, his dick left slick hot trails against his skin, his ass tightened under Whit’s grip and then he was sobbing, jerking, come flooding between them like a hot wave.
“Whit—Whit…”
“Clark. Hold me, tight, tighter…” Clark’s hands clamped around him, held on tight, and on the edge of pain, Whit came again.
*****
He sat through classes, turned in work. He slept through lunch, drooling on the wadded up lump of his jacket. He listened as people talked to him, nodded in the right places.
He had no idea what happened or what anyone said the entire time.
He was a million miles away. Thinking, about Clark—about Wade. About where he went from this point, and what he could do. He thought about his place in the world, from school to the store, it was all he could think of. He looked around his dad’s store, empty, dead and locked, and realized if he went through with his plan—if he told his parents the truth, not even the store was a given. He stood on the edge of maybe losing every damn thing, even stuff he never wanted. He twirled the store keys in his hand, flipped the ring around to send the keys slapping against his palm.
Wade…Wade seemed to have found something. Something exciting. He shook his head. Dangerous.
As he was thinking that, the doors rattled and banged in their frames. He jogged over and outside in the dark, Wade and the other two were grinning at him, pounding on the glass. Dicks. He let them in, Wade slapping him on the shoulder as he sauntered past. They lounged on the benches set up in the front of the store, one of the assholes lit up and snickered when he cursed.
“Don’t fucking get comfortable, and don’t get ashes on anything, you jerk-off,” he told the little guy—the one with the real short fuse. He turned his attention to Wade. “I’m not joining whatever it is you are. Don’t even tell me anything—I don’t want to know.”
The short guy took a step forward, his face twisted into a ferocious scowl and murder in his eyes, but Wade grabbed the back of his hoodie and yanked him to a stop. He shook his head. “I gotta tell you, Big Guy, I’m sorry to hear that. Real sorry.”
Whit came out from behind the counter, put his back against it. He glared at them. Life had been kicking his ass lately and he was ready to kick some back—it might as well be these guys. A small sane voice at the back of his head said, ‘asshole, these guys are gonna *kill*you.’
The tallest guy was furious, and grabbed Wade’s arm. “Come on man—we don’t have time for this. Take care of him and let’s go.” Wade pushed him off and shoved him backwards toward the doors.
“Gimme five minutes to talk to him, and we’re done here. This is my call—go.” The two were used to obeying Wade, and they slouched back to the doors. Wade asked Whit, “Why *not* come with us? What the fuck are you going to do here? We’re giving you a chance to be part of something fucking amazing. Come on. Be with us.” His eyes seemed almost pleading, but his mouth was turned up in a sneer. “Or is it you’re afraid?”
It was quiet as a tomb in the store—and they all jerked when the door rattled again. Whit grabbed the keys hanging at his side and cursed—he’d forgotten to lock the doors…fuck, must be a customer, he thought and made a move forward and Clark flung the door wide, walked past the men standing at the door way without a look and stopped in front of Whit.
“Hey. Thought I’d walk you home.” He turned then and slowly eyed each of the men behind him. He drew himself up straight, shoulders back, planted his feet wide and Whit thought, ‘fuck, he’s huge.’ “Who’s this, Whit? Friends?”
“This is Wade, and some unimportant assholes,” he replied, and Wade laughed. Clark shifted slightly until he was pressed against Whit’s side, the heat he gave off made Whit hyper aware of him. He glanced at Clark…sweat was beading at his hairline and his brow was creased, the way it got when he was in pain. Whit figured he was getting a headache, but he turned to glance at him and wasn’t so sure. Clark’s eyes were bloody red; the irises looked gold instead of green. His nostrils flared, and the corner of his mouth lifted when Wade and his crew took a step away. Whit thought , wow…his Clark was huge *and* scary.
He leaned a little into Clark and shook his head. “Wade, I’m not afraid. It’s just that I finally realized I have something great here. I might be the only one who thinks so, but I don’t care.” He jerked his chin up. “I think maybe it’s enough to make all this worth it.”
He glanced at Clark and Clark raised his eyebrow. ‘maybe?’
Wade reached out, snatched a handful of Whit’s shirt. “It better be worth it. It better make you god damn happy.”
Clark growled, a low rumble of sound that rippled right through Whit, and made him a little hard. Jesus, he didn’t know Clark could make a sound like that….
Wade was already backing off, hands up and a sardonic grin on his face. “It better be worth it,” he repeated, his eyes on Clark. “Okay. Leaving—there’s a job waiting for us in Granville. I’ll stop in on the way back—yeah?”
Whitney inhaled, deep and sharp, and Clark growled again, “I don’t think Whit wants you to,” he said, his voice rumbling through the air. He stepped in front of Whit and folded his arms, and Whit tried not to smile.
Wade nodded and turned, headed for the door. “I am coming back. I’m not giving up that easy.”
Whit blushed. “I got that impression. But I wouldn’t suggest you do that.”
Clark grabbed the keys from Whit, walked to the doors, and opened them, pointedly waiting, glaring at Wade. Wade winked at him and walked away.
As soon as the door was locked, Whit sagged against the counter. “Shit--I thought I was going to get the shit kicked out of me—Clark. What the fuck *happened* to you, dude?”
Clark was still bristling. He crowded Whit against the counter, was almost on top of him. “He wanted you.”
“They all wanted me to join their weird little club--”
“No, he *wanted* you—so much, I could taste it on the air--” Whit hissed, he was being pushed painfully hard against the counter. “He wanted to take you from me--” Clark’s voice still held the growl; he was pushing Whit’s legs uncomfortably far apart, grinding his back into the counter. Clark pushed up hard, driving a hard-on like steel against his own, grinding and humping against him, hands clawed around Whit’s hips, pulling Whit’s legs around his waist…Whit’s back was on fire from being shoved against the edge of the counter, he’d be one massive bruise in the morning.
Clark’s face was pressed hard into Whit’s neck and he was panting so hard, it was all Whit could hear, felt the pounding beat of his heart against his chest, his dick throb every time he jabbed his hips into his, and then Clark froze against him, gasped once, twice and through the layers of clothes between them, he could feel Clark’s dick jerk, and heat flood against him.
Clark lay on him, shaking and panting for breath—and suddenly leaped upright, his eyes clear green, wide and shocked. He was apologetic, horrified—
“Whit—I’ m so sorry! I don’t know—I can’t believe I did that to you…oh.” He blushed dark red, and let Whit off the counter. Whit touched his neck gingerly, felt it stinging and frowned at Clark, who dropped his head, and bit his lip. Whit suspected he did it to keep from smiling….
Fuck, he was going to be one massive bruise tomorrow, he thought. Clark—god damn, what had gotten into Clark? He’d tried to protect him, had been so aggressive, had been ready to…it looked like he’d been ready to kill for him, then practically marked him like a dog…bit him and humped him and come on him, and…and he kind of liked it…oh God. For any moment ever that he’d complained he was bored, he was heartily sorry….
more soon, if I'm lucky...
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/Whit…
Rating: 5
Summary: Ecce potestas casei…which explains this AU version of Smallville.
I win! I finally got this bit out! Woo-hoo! *fistpumps--looks around to make sure no one saw--* hooo!
The Previous Parts are here, wondering if priests wear collars, why isn't it okay to spank them?
Clark hesitated and undid the belt; let it drop to the floor. The robe swung open and Whit inhaled. “You…” He reached out and splayed his fingers across Clark’s belly, drew his hand down to the base of his dick. He looked up. Clark’s head was tipped back, and his dick moved under his fingers, his hips moved. Whit leaned closer and kissed the dark coarse trail that grew upwards to his navel.
Clark gasped. “Whit, Whit…”
“I really love you.”
Clark stopped moving, and dropped his head to meet Whit’s eyes. He cradled his head in big warm hands, and Whit was stunned at the look in Clark’s eyes--love, it had to be love. Clark slipped to the floor, knelt on the blanket. He rested his hand over the bulge pressing against Whit’s fly; he pulled the zipper down, with a look of intense concentration. Slow precise movements brought down pants, boxers, Whit lifted to help. Clark smiled, his hands drifted up and down Whit’s thighs, over his dick with butterfly light touches until Whit grabbed them, said, “I’ll beg if you want me to, but I’d really like it if you blew me.”
“Gosh, Whitney, could you be more romantic? I’m just about overcome here.”
“God, shut the fuck up will you!” Whit laughed. “What do you want to me to say— you sultry goddess, worship me with your wine red lips…”
Clark looked up at Whit opened mouthed.
“What? I read some poetry from time to time.”
“No, I think you were *traumatized* by poetry at some point in your life. Therapy. That’s all I’m saying...”
Whit snorted and grabbed the back of Clark’s head, meaning to push him back down, but when his fingers slipped into the mass of Clark’s hair, soft, thick and warm, he found himself stroking. “Ah…Clark…”
“Sultry…geez, Whit.” Clark snorted but since he was inches from his dick it just sent lovely gusts of warmth over him. Clark bent, kissed the tip of Whit’s dick, teased his tongue along the length, slid the head into his mouth. Whit moaned, quietly as he could, watching as Clark circled the head of his dick with his fingers, tongued between fingers and the shaft, and took it as deep into his throat as he could, stopped to breathe with his hands resting on Whitney’s thighs.
Whitney pushed up into Clark’s mouth, his breath whistling through clenched teeth. He was trying not to make a sound, but he was helpless to hold back a gasp every time the head of his dick rubbed soft places inside, wet rolled down his shaft, and Clark chased it, licked it from his shaft, his balls...
The robe was spread around him on the floor and it looked like Clark was kneeling under a fall of scarlet petals. Poetry, he wanted to laugh, but it trailed from his lips in a moan. Clark lifted his head and the sight almost sent Whit over the edge--long black lashes swept pink flushed cheeks, serene, angelic—his eyes jerked away, settled on Clark’s mouth, bruise colored mouth, his swollen lips, wet and eager, stretched around his dick—so beautiful, so dirty--so fucking hot—but what made Whit shiver was the sight of Clark’s big, big hands spread on his thighs, his long fingers wrapped first around his dick and then moving back to dig into the muscles of his thighs, wrapping around the backs of his legs and lifting him to his mouth. He looked down, watched the play of tendons over the back of Clark’s huge hands, and came so suddenly and so hard, it startled a shout from him. He moaned, shaking and spurting down Clark’s throat, begging him to touch him, squeeze him, hurt him…
“Fuck Clark—I think I have a thing for your hands,” he gasped when he could speak again.
Clark jerked, and whisked his hands away, and Whitney grabbed them, kissed them, kissed the knuckles, bit lightly at his fingertips. He whispered. “Big hands. I love your hands. I feel like you’re holding all of me, when you touch me.” He sighed. “It’s nice to feel safe sometimes, Clark.”
“Whitney.” Clark grabbed him, and hugged him hard. “Whit…”
Whitney pulled Clark to his feet and then he kicked off boots and socks, stripped off t he rest of his clothing carelessly, doing a little bump and grind when Clark laughed at his eagerness. He pulled the butterfly robe off of Clark, threw it over the back of the couch. “You now?”
He loved the jerk, swell of Clark’s dick under his palm. He kissed him, smoothed the foreskin over the head, pulled it gently between his fingers, he teased it, rolling the loose skin, slipping his finger in and over the head, smooth as a plum, dark, and weeping, spilling precome, Whit caught the gushing liquid in his palm, rubbing it back over Clark’s shaft. “Wow, you really get wet, are all uncut guys like this?”
Clark froze and shivered. “How would I know,” he gasped, “I don’t know--”
“Okay, just wondering…shhh. Relax. It’s kind of sexy.” He tipped his palm to his face, and took a tentative lick, and thought that it tasted vaguely of ocean, and oranges. He pushed Clark back, spread all over him and grabbed his shoulders. “Kiss me,” he demanded. He sucked the last of the gloss from Clark’s mouth, the faint taste of his come from his tongue…he slid against him. “Fuck me,” he commanded.
“Yes, yes…” Clark shuddered all over, held Whit hard against him and thrust and thrust. They slid on the silk, sweat and precome dampening and spotting the fabric. Clark wrapped his arms around Whit’s neck, and moaned into his ear, “Harder, God, harder….” and pushed, his dick left slick hot trails against his skin, his ass tightened under Whit’s grip and then he was sobbing, jerking, come flooding between them like a hot wave.
“Whit—Whit…”
“Clark. Hold me, tight, tighter…” Clark’s hands clamped around him, held on tight, and on the edge of pain, Whit came again.
*****
He sat through classes, turned in work. He slept through lunch, drooling on the wadded up lump of his jacket. He listened as people talked to him, nodded in the right places.
He had no idea what happened or what anyone said the entire time.
He was a million miles away. Thinking, about Clark—about Wade. About where he went from this point, and what he could do. He thought about his place in the world, from school to the store, it was all he could think of. He looked around his dad’s store, empty, dead and locked, and realized if he went through with his plan—if he told his parents the truth, not even the store was a given. He stood on the edge of maybe losing every damn thing, even stuff he never wanted. He twirled the store keys in his hand, flipped the ring around to send the keys slapping against his palm.
Wade…Wade seemed to have found something. Something exciting. He shook his head. Dangerous.
As he was thinking that, the doors rattled and banged in their frames. He jogged over and outside in the dark, Wade and the other two were grinning at him, pounding on the glass. Dicks. He let them in, Wade slapping him on the shoulder as he sauntered past. They lounged on the benches set up in the front of the store, one of the assholes lit up and snickered when he cursed.
“Don’t fucking get comfortable, and don’t get ashes on anything, you jerk-off,” he told the little guy—the one with the real short fuse. He turned his attention to Wade. “I’m not joining whatever it is you are. Don’t even tell me anything—I don’t want to know.”
The short guy took a step forward, his face twisted into a ferocious scowl and murder in his eyes, but Wade grabbed the back of his hoodie and yanked him to a stop. He shook his head. “I gotta tell you, Big Guy, I’m sorry to hear that. Real sorry.”
Whit came out from behind the counter, put his back against it. He glared at them. Life had been kicking his ass lately and he was ready to kick some back—it might as well be these guys. A small sane voice at the back of his head said, ‘asshole, these guys are gonna *kill*you.’
The tallest guy was furious, and grabbed Wade’s arm. “Come on man—we don’t have time for this. Take care of him and let’s go.” Wade pushed him off and shoved him backwards toward the doors.
“Gimme five minutes to talk to him, and we’re done here. This is my call—go.” The two were used to obeying Wade, and they slouched back to the doors. Wade asked Whit, “Why *not* come with us? What the fuck are you going to do here? We’re giving you a chance to be part of something fucking amazing. Come on. Be with us.” His eyes seemed almost pleading, but his mouth was turned up in a sneer. “Or is it you’re afraid?”
It was quiet as a tomb in the store—and they all jerked when the door rattled again. Whit grabbed the keys hanging at his side and cursed—he’d forgotten to lock the doors…fuck, must be a customer, he thought and made a move forward and Clark flung the door wide, walked past the men standing at the door way without a look and stopped in front of Whit.
“Hey. Thought I’d walk you home.” He turned then and slowly eyed each of the men behind him. He drew himself up straight, shoulders back, planted his feet wide and Whit thought, ‘fuck, he’s huge.’ “Who’s this, Whit? Friends?”
“This is Wade, and some unimportant assholes,” he replied, and Wade laughed. Clark shifted slightly until he was pressed against Whit’s side, the heat he gave off made Whit hyper aware of him. He glanced at Clark…sweat was beading at his hairline and his brow was creased, the way it got when he was in pain. Whit figured he was getting a headache, but he turned to glance at him and wasn’t so sure. Clark’s eyes were bloody red; the irises looked gold instead of green. His nostrils flared, and the corner of his mouth lifted when Wade and his crew took a step away. Whit thought , wow…his Clark was huge *and* scary.
He leaned a little into Clark and shook his head. “Wade, I’m not afraid. It’s just that I finally realized I have something great here. I might be the only one who thinks so, but I don’t care.” He jerked his chin up. “I think maybe it’s enough to make all this worth it.”
He glanced at Clark and Clark raised his eyebrow. ‘maybe?’
Wade reached out, snatched a handful of Whit’s shirt. “It better be worth it. It better make you god damn happy.”
Clark growled, a low rumble of sound that rippled right through Whit, and made him a little hard. Jesus, he didn’t know Clark could make a sound like that….
Wade was already backing off, hands up and a sardonic grin on his face. “It better be worth it,” he repeated, his eyes on Clark. “Okay. Leaving—there’s a job waiting for us in Granville. I’ll stop in on the way back—yeah?”
Whitney inhaled, deep and sharp, and Clark growled again, “I don’t think Whit wants you to,” he said, his voice rumbling through the air. He stepped in front of Whit and folded his arms, and Whit tried not to smile.
Wade nodded and turned, headed for the door. “I am coming back. I’m not giving up that easy.”
Whit blushed. “I got that impression. But I wouldn’t suggest you do that.”
Clark grabbed the keys from Whit, walked to the doors, and opened them, pointedly waiting, glaring at Wade. Wade winked at him and walked away.
As soon as the door was locked, Whit sagged against the counter. “Shit--I thought I was going to get the shit kicked out of me—Clark. What the fuck *happened* to you, dude?”
Clark was still bristling. He crowded Whit against the counter, was almost on top of him. “He wanted you.”
“They all wanted me to join their weird little club--”
“No, he *wanted* you—so much, I could taste it on the air--” Whit hissed, he was being pushed painfully hard against the counter. “He wanted to take you from me--” Clark’s voice still held the growl; he was pushing Whit’s legs uncomfortably far apart, grinding his back into the counter. Clark pushed up hard, driving a hard-on like steel against his own, grinding and humping against him, hands clawed around Whit’s hips, pulling Whit’s legs around his waist…Whit’s back was on fire from being shoved against the edge of the counter, he’d be one massive bruise in the morning.
Clark’s face was pressed hard into Whit’s neck and he was panting so hard, it was all Whit could hear, felt the pounding beat of his heart against his chest, his dick throb every time he jabbed his hips into his, and then Clark froze against him, gasped once, twice and through the layers of clothes between them, he could feel Clark’s dick jerk, and heat flood against him.
Clark lay on him, shaking and panting for breath—and suddenly leaped upright, his eyes clear green, wide and shocked. He was apologetic, horrified—
“Whit—I’ m so sorry! I don’t know—I can’t believe I did that to you…oh.” He blushed dark red, and let Whit off the counter. Whit touched his neck gingerly, felt it stinging and frowned at Clark, who dropped his head, and bit his lip. Whit suspected he did it to keep from smiling….
Fuck, he was going to be one massive bruise tomorrow, he thought. Clark—god damn, what had gotten into Clark? He’d tried to protect him, had been so aggressive, had been ready to…it looked like he’d been ready to kill for him, then practically marked him like a dog…bit him and humped him and come on him, and…and he kind of liked it…oh God. For any moment ever that he’d complained he was bored, he was heartily sorry….
more soon, if I'm lucky...
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![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
1/6/07 06:03 am (UTC)You're evol, however for having Clark mark Whit in a Clex story...
*pouts*
But I don't care, it was still hot.
*grins*
(no subject)
1/6/07 06:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/6/07 01:34 pm (UTC)LOL!
*grins*
(no subject)
1/6/07 06:17 am (UTC)Damn, that was HOT!!! Though I want to cuddle and protect Whitney too... I just won't in case Clark's protectiveness comes back. ;)
LOVE Clark growling at Wade. hehehe
(no subject)
1/7/07 03:41 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked growling Clark!
(no subject)
1/6/07 07:30 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/7/07 03:44 am (UTC)Yeah, he'd been very much passive so far, mostly he'd been content to let Whit handle things but now he knows it doesn't have to be that way.
(no subject)
1/6/07 08:13 am (UTC)Also, didn't comment on the last part in the rush to catch up, but damn is Clark in makeup sexy. And I love that Whit brings him makeup as an offering. SO very HOT.
(no subject)
1/7/07 03:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/6/07 09:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/7/07 03:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/8/07 10:05 am (UTC)Maybe it's because I just don't know this Lex so far and that will change as things go along. But, also, I haven't much liked him very much from the little glimpes we've seen so far.
I completely trust you and your story-telling and will be happy to go where you lead us. It's just, you've made me love Clark and Whit together here, so very much.
*hugs*
(no subject)
1/6/07 10:02 am (UTC)Clark jerked, and whisked his hands away, and Whitney grabbed them, kissed them, kissed the knuckles, bit lightly at his fingertips. He whispered. “Big hands. I love your hands. I feel like you’re holding all of me, when you touch me.” He sighed. “It’s nice to feel safe sometimes, Clark.”
God, between that and Whit realizing Clark is 'huge' and pretty damn scary? H-O-T and absolutely deserved some self-congratulatory fist-pumping!
Can't wait for the next part. :-D
(no subject)
1/7/07 03:51 am (UTC)*beams all happy and pleased*
(no subject)
1/6/07 12:05 pm (UTC)More! More! :)
(no subject)
1/7/07 03:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/6/07 02:04 pm (UTC)i'm worrying about that bite mark, though. whitney's world is about to change big time, i think.
(no subject)
1/7/07 03:54 am (UTC)I'm so damn grateful that the porny bits worked. oy! So grateful!
(no subject)
1/6/07 03:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
1/7/07 03:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/6/07 05:00 pm (UTC)Awww, good for you, Whit!
He glanced at Clark and Clark raised his eyebrow. ‘maybe?’
Hee!
(no subject)
1/7/07 03:57 am (UTC)Hee!
*snorf*! Clark had to let him know! *G*
(no subject)
1/6/07 05:59 pm (UTC)Oh, that's so pretty pretty, the butterfly robe and the bruise-plum lips and...
Yeah.
*swoons*
And jealous!Clark!
Luff.
*smoooches you*
(no subject)
1/7/07 03:58 am (UTC)Made you some covers
1/6/07 08:08 pm (UTC)Mariposa covers
Re: Made you some covers
1/7/07 03:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/6/07 08:55 pm (UTC)See this is the Whitney that I wish they had put in the show, one who realized that there was more to him then what the small minds in Smallville thought, but I guess then Lana would have had to be part of his reason to turn away from the Wade gang and really how likely was that, at that point Lana was already kinda looking at Clark as a Whitney alternative.
I am so glad that Whitney saved himself - with Smallville being the Mysterious Death Capital of the Midwest, I think that everyone has to get on with the business of making better decision so that they don't get dead.
I really really really want Whitney to come out, so that at least Lana will get hers - please...I don't wish Whitney the damage that I think this announcement will do to him and his relationship with his family, but some Lana humiliation is always awesome.
So Wade's coming back, huh? Well if he times it right, and gets over himself and becomes a productive member of society, Clark and Whitney will have broken up as friends and Clark will be with his Metropolis based soulmate (hehehe, hint, hint..)
(no subject)
1/7/07 04:04 am (UTC)I am so glad that Whitney saved himself - with Smallville being the Mysterious Death Capital of the Midwest, I think that everyone has to get on with the business of making better decision so that they don't get dead.
right? i think by now, those folks are conditioned to just stand there and wait for the mysterious savior. Boy, the death rate in Smallville must have skyrocketed when Clark left for Metropolis!
(no subject)
1/7/07 01:32 am (UTC)First you bring the sexy back like Justin Timberlake and then you give us possessive golden eyed Clark...*whooooo*
I need a fan. The return of Wade looks extremely promising. Just a fantastic update!
(no subject)
1/7/07 04:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
1/8/07 02:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
3/19/07 02:25 am (UTC)How long till the Lex but arrives?
*hides*
(no subject)
3/19/07 02:25 am (UTC)*blushes*
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3/19/07 04:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
3/19/07 04:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
3/10/10 05:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
3/11/10 08:23 am (UTC)