SV fic post: East of the Sun part 31
5/19/08 03:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: East of the Sun
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/a person or two, eventually clex of course
Rating:R
Word Count:2802
Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings: my version of the swing era. Possibility of heavy shmoop
Many, many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
danceswithgary expert hand holder, brilliant beta and super patient person, who didn't get a chance to check this out and so don’t blame her for boo-boos!
By the time he made his way back to Alex's building it was almost dawn, and Clark figured that Alex had to be home now—there was no reason for him to be out all night long, certainly not with Mr. Rattlesnake Eyes. He'd have to wake him up, and he hoped Alex wouldn’t mind. He had a brief flash of Alex wearing soft silk pajamas, just like the ones the stars wore in Screen Idol magazine. He stopped on the apartment building stairs, and listened. He heard nothing inside that sounded like Alex. Lots of heartbeats, but which one, if any, was Alex's he had no idea. Clark blushed…a lot of people were making love…he forced his hearing back to normal levels. He looked up at the building, and wished he could see inside. Now, that would be a real handy gift to have, X-ray eyes.
He pressed the apartment buzzer. Once, twice…three times…Clark huffed in frustration. He doubted Alex slept so soundly that he wouldn't hear that buzzer. It was more than likely that he wasn't home, hadn’t been home all night. Clark felt the familiar itch and slight burn behind his eyes, and squashed the spike of anger swelling in his chest. Fine. He'd wait. He had all the time in the world to wait.
@@@@@@
Morning brought bright winter sunlight peeking over the roof-tops—it woke Clark from his light doze. He yawned, surprised he'd dozed off at all, even though it'd been a few days since he'd slept. He stretched and startled a cat who'd been sharing the step with him, probably enjoying the warmth. It gave him a dirty look, jumped off the step and headed for the street, whipped around and leaped onto a garbage bin when a big black Cadillac sedan pulled up to the curb. Clark quickly moved off the steps too, into the shadows of a narrow alleyway between the buildings.
The sedan rolled to a stop and the engine died. The driver got out—Clark recognized him as Mr. Mahaney's bodyguard, a great big slab of a guy. He opened the rear door and Alex climbed out, his face powder white, purple smudges under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept all night. Without a backward glance at the car, he trotted up the steps and let himself into the apartment building. The Cadillac sat at the curb until a light went on in Alex's apartment, and then pulled away.
Clark watched the car go; the air he breathed in felt thick and sticky. Maybe he should just go home…it didn’t take a professor to figure out who Alex had been with all night. But Pete said…and Alex didn't look happy….
He swallowed a few times, worked up the nerve to ring the buzzer again. He marched up the stair and pressed the buzzer. Instantly the intercom crackled to life, startling Clark.
"Who the hell is it?"
"Oh--it's me, Clark. Can I come up?"
"Clark? No! Wait…yes."
The door clicked, and Clark quickly pushed it open, and ran up the stairs to Alex's top floor apartment. He waited outside the apartment door until he figured the correct amount of time had passed before knocking tentatively. The door flew open and Alex was standing there, looking very annoyed—the expression only lightened a bit when Clark said, "I was in the neighborhood…"
"Clark, it's…" he glanced at the gold face of his watch."It's six in the morning. How the hell do you come to be 'just in the neighborhood?'"
Clark edged past Alex into the apartment. "I walk a lot—I don't sleep so good. Your place is nice." He cocked an eyebrow, and gazed about. "Hunh. Messier than I thought it'd be…"
Clothes were every where, on wooden hangers, on padded hangers….they hung from the tops of doors, and from curtain rods and light fixtures …there were empty and half-full glasses and cups and overflowing ashtrays everywhere. Clark craned his neck, tried to look down the dark hall off the living area. He wished he could see what Alex's bedroom looked like...he could see a bit of the kitchenette, with its breakfast nook and mullioned doors leading to a little balcony. "It must be nice here in the morning, lots of light," he said with a smile. Alex nodded, still looking…confused…alarmed?
Clark sighed and folded his hands together behind his back. He watched Alex walk away from him, over to a desk in one corner, rosewood and brass and topped with a hutch. The desk, in contrast to the rest of the living room, was a model of neatness—pens and ink on their tray, the blotter lined up perfectly, neat stacks of paper covered with painstakingly perfect script, and alone on top of the desk, sat his clarinet case, the black leather gleaming in the low light. Clark smiled at the order there. That was the Alex he'd imagined. Alex followed his eyes around the apartment. "Well…some times it's neater than this…" he said, and his sentence trailed off.
"Really? Are you sure?"Clark laughed. He smiled at Alex and Alex actually blushed. He frowned and half-turned away from Clark, waved his hand at a radio that ratcheted up Clark's envy by a thousand…wow, his parents would have loved a radio like that…the top was lifted and underneath it was a record player. "Let's see if we can find some decent music this time of the morning--" Alex turned back to Clark with a wry smile. "That was a transparent bid to distract you from my lack of housekeeping," and Clark chuckled softly.
Alex bent over the dial, busily adjusting it until the station's sound was clear and music floated out of the cloth covered speakers. "What do you want Clark?" he murmured. "I thought last time we spoke, we agreed not to repeat any silly mistake."
Clark blinked at Alex. "I don’t remember that. I remember having a nice kiss and then, leaping to conclusions. You could have told me you and Pete weren't together."
"What?"
"I thought you and Pete were together and it...I couldn't do something like that. But I find out you're free, and I'm free, and that means—"
"Listen, Clark…I'm sorry, but this can't go anywhe—"
Clark kissed Alex--not much of one—a pretty crummy one, really, a kind of a mash of lips like little kids on a playground but he just needed to shut Alex up. "Get to know me before you say no," he said when he released him. "Get to know *me*, not the singer in the band, not Chloe's—" Clark stopped, and swallowed hard. Yeah. "Not Chloe's friend. Me."
Alex shook his head. "I'm sorry. I can't. I don't…I don’t want to."
Clark felt like he had the time he'd fallen off that train trestle—shocked and helpless, unable to breathe. The smile he struggled to keep on his face wobbled just a bit. "Okay, I do feel kind of silly now. I was prepared to storm the castle," he laughed weakly, went on with a slighter bigger smile, "and here no one's at home. I don’t embarrass myself as much as I used to, but I've got to say, this was a doozy." He stepped past Alex and had his hand on the doorknob when Alex said, "Don't go."
He stopped and leaned his forehead on the door. "Why not?"
"Boy…" Alex swiped both hands over his head and sighed. "I don't know what it's like out in the country, what kind of things happen, but in the city, sometimes—sometimes you get caught up in other people's webs."
Clark turned to Alex with a puzzled look. Alex grimaced and said, "I mean to say…I kind of stepped into this setup that…turned a little sour. I don’t want anyone to know. I'm trying to protect people, people I care about. If you get caught between me and…this thing, you'll get hurt. I couldn’t stand knowing I hurt you.
His heart skipped a beat. "You can't hurt me. No one can, not now. Believe me." Alex stalked away, grabbed a cigarette from the box on his desk. He lit it and drew in deep. "Clark, you don't know what kind of things can happen in this world. It's not like…it's different where I am, okay? Different rules apply. A person can get lost. A person can get hurt—or more—for a dozen different reasons."
Clark rubbed his face. "You mean Wade. You mean the people who run the club, and run the street. Don't you worry, Alex. I have a pretty damn good idea about this city and what happens in it. I walk at night. I see the underworld. I *know*."
"God, Clark, you *think* you know."
He felt a tide of frustration sweep over him—he tried to stay calm, balanced…"What if that guy wasn't in the picture? If he couldn't hurt anyone? Would you want me? Tell me the truth, the real truth. I trust you to do that."
Alex blew a noisy breath thick with smoke out, he laughed. "Trust me? Buddy boy, you don't even know me. Wade is…he's my lover. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Not Pete. Wade does things for me that you wouldn't understand."
Clark jerked back from Alex. "You're lying. I asked you for the truth and you're lying to me."
Alex laughed. "God, Clark, how old are you? Twenty, nineteen?" He suddenly looked wary…I'm serious Clark, how old are you?
"I'm…eighteen."
"Go home," he waved his hand. "Go back to—to—whatever farm town you came from and—"
Clark reached out and grabbed the hand Alex was waving. He closed his hand around the cigarette he held. "I'm not leaving. And I can take anything Wade or any of those goons can dish out." Alex yelped and tried to jerk his hand back. Clark only squeezed and opened his hand, showed Alex the crushed butt…and his unblemished hand. "I can protect you. Promise."
@@@@@@
Alex gaped at what should have been a pretty bad burn. Clark flexed his fingers, flattened his palm. It was clear…nothing but a black smear and ashes in his palm. Alex rubbed his thumb though it. "No mark—" Alex swept his free hand over his head. "What's the gimmick, Clark? How'd you do that?"
"Alex, there's something I want to tell you. Have to tell you. You have to listen with an…an open mind." Clark smiled a little, nerves making his mouth quirk. "You…have you ever wondered about life on…other worlds?"
"What, like…Things To Come? Buck Rogers? Monsters coming from space?"
Clark winced. "No, I mean like—" The door buzzer went off like a hive of crazed bees, on and off, and Alex thumbed the intercom. "Hey!" he shouted. "Do you mind?"
"Where are you? Rehearsal—hard to have when my lead guy is still in bed. Besides I brought breakfast—I'll let you look at my ass—"
"Jesus. Come on up." The look Alex turned on Clark was mostly relieved. "Can we talk later?"
"Yeah, but…Alex, this is important. Can we talk after the show tonight?"
The door flew open and Walt came in. "Hey, Alex---C.C.?" Walt threw the bag of donuts at Clark. "Hi. What are you doing here? Chloe's been looking for you." He narrowed his eyes at Clark, stared him up and down…he looked at Alex suspiciously. "Everything all right? You're not arguing over the song or anything, are you?"
"No sir, Mr. Walt. I just came to tell Alex something. It can wait, I guess." Walt was still looking at him, curiosity in his gaze. "Can I see you in the kitchen before I go, Alex?"
"Clark…"
"Just for one minute."
"Oh, all right." Clark walked past Walt with an apologetic smile and followed Alex into the small kitchenette.
"I wanted to say…" He curved his hands around Alex's shoulders and leaned in. "I hope you let me…" He pressed his lips to Alex's and this time, it wasn't a hasty smash of lips and teeth and chin. This time, it was soft and sweet, like he'd never ever kissed anyone before. He pressed in, flicked the tip of his tongue right against that little scar in the center of Alex's lip because he'd wanted to know how that felt…Alex moaned a little, and Clark felt everything flip inside of him. "Oh…" He lunged forward, pinching tender flesh between teeth, jamming his nose against Alex's. Alex laughed into Clark's mouth—gently took control of the kiss, guiding Clark into it. Clark let Alex tease his mouth open, slide his tongue inside, rake his lips with his teeth, over and over, scrape and sooth, scrape and sooth until they tingled, until they felt like they were burning…Clark didn't think anything could feel better and then Alex rolled his hips against Clark's.
Clark cried out, forgetting Walt, forgetting everything but that feeling, that touch. He was instantly hard, so hard it was almost painful. He was groaning, reaching out and pulling Alex into him, trying to keep Alex's cock rubbing against his. Blood thundered in his ears, his cock, the pulse beat all through him, filling him—he felt that tingling, thrumming, wild feeling start in his gut, the base of his cock. His boxers were wet and clinging to him, and…he was so close, he needed to stop, stop touching….
@@@@@@
It was like being dropped into the center of a volcano. Like falling into fire, a whole lake of fire…Clark was so…so…inexperienced, but enthusiastic. Wildly enthusiastic. Alex felt a little flash of fear…*strong* and wildly enthusiastic….They hit the kitchen table and it scraped across the floor with a shriek, the chairs went tumbling.
"Shhh! Clark—Walt--!" Alex gasped, tried to keep his mouth against Clark's but Clark kept whimpering, moving, pulling Alex with him, trying to grind against him. They staggered the length of the little kitchen, bumping against counter, stove, icebox, making a horrible racket and all Alex could do was try to keep up with him, grinning, laughing….
Clark fetched up against the icebox and moaned. "You're laughing at me."
"God, no, Clark, you—you're so fucking sexy—so fucking—it's adorable—"
Clark dropped his hands from Alex's hips, and stood swaying, red-faced and sweating, his clothes rumpled, his hair wild from Alex's grip in it. "*Adorable*?" Alex blinked. For one strange moment, Clark's eyes seemed to flash red…he shook his head and looked again, and Clark's sea green eyes glittered through a messy fall of black waves. He was scowling, trying to pull his clothes back in order.
Alex raked his fingers through Clark's hair, trying to fix it. He said quietly, "Hey, did you go deaf on the part where I said sexy? Very sexy…" A very impressive bulge filled out the front of Clark's chinos, a little too impressive if he wanted to walk past Walt without advertising what'd been going on in the kitchen. He yanked Clark's shirt out, smoothed it over his pants to hide the bulge. He meant to do it quickly, impersonally, but the heat, the thickness…the kid was so fucking…alive, he had to squeeze, feel it, just a little. Clark yelped, threw his head back against the icebox. Alex winced. The poor guy's head hit with a 'thunk' that had to be heard in the other room. Hard hit or not, Clark pushed into Alex's hand, and shuddered so hard, for a second Alex thought he'd come. "Clark…?"
Clark lowered his head to look at him, slowly opening his eyes. "I…I. I'm sorry. I've never done this with. I mean, I've come pretty close…damn." He flushed even harder.
Alex drank in the sight of him, flushed and quivering…God, Clark was the picture of sex and he didn't even know it. Alex wanted more than anything to toss Walt out of the apartment, rip Clark's clothes off and suck his cock until he had him deep in his throat. He wanted his tongue in every bit of him, from his mouth to his ass--he wanted to throw him face down on the bed and fuck him until they both screamed.
And he couldn't, and it was going to kill him, swear to god, this was going to murder him. His prick didn't care about right and wrong, it was trying to rise….He swallowed down a groan and tried a smile. "Don't worry, I couldn't tell. Not at all."
Clark backed out of the room, still red-cheeked, now smiling. "I'll see you tonight, I mean, at rehearsal. I mean--" he laughed, whirled around and out of the room.
Alex whispered at Clark's departing back. "God, I wish…I wish."
part 32
eta: aaaaahstooopit!! where is my brain?
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Lex/a person or two, eventually clex of course
Rating:R
Word Count:2802
Summary: Lex learns about trust and love from an unlikely source.
Notes/Warnings: my version of the swing era. Possibility of heavy shmoop
Many, many thanks to
danceswithgary expert hand holder, brilliant beta and super patient person, who didn't get a chance to check this out and so don’t blame her for boo-boos!By the time he made his way back to Alex's building it was almost dawn, and Clark figured that Alex had to be home now—there was no reason for him to be out all night long, certainly not with Mr. Rattlesnake Eyes. He'd have to wake him up, and he hoped Alex wouldn’t mind. He had a brief flash of Alex wearing soft silk pajamas, just like the ones the stars wore in Screen Idol magazine. He stopped on the apartment building stairs, and listened. He heard nothing inside that sounded like Alex. Lots of heartbeats, but which one, if any, was Alex's he had no idea. Clark blushed…a lot of people were making love…he forced his hearing back to normal levels. He looked up at the building, and wished he could see inside. Now, that would be a real handy gift to have, X-ray eyes.
He pressed the apartment buzzer. Once, twice…three times…Clark huffed in frustration. He doubted Alex slept so soundly that he wouldn't hear that buzzer. It was more than likely that he wasn't home, hadn’t been home all night. Clark felt the familiar itch and slight burn behind his eyes, and squashed the spike of anger swelling in his chest. Fine. He'd wait. He had all the time in the world to wait.
@@@@@@
Morning brought bright winter sunlight peeking over the roof-tops—it woke Clark from his light doze. He yawned, surprised he'd dozed off at all, even though it'd been a few days since he'd slept. He stretched and startled a cat who'd been sharing the step with him, probably enjoying the warmth. It gave him a dirty look, jumped off the step and headed for the street, whipped around and leaped onto a garbage bin when a big black Cadillac sedan pulled up to the curb. Clark quickly moved off the steps too, into the shadows of a narrow alleyway between the buildings.
The sedan rolled to a stop and the engine died. The driver got out—Clark recognized him as Mr. Mahaney's bodyguard, a great big slab of a guy. He opened the rear door and Alex climbed out, his face powder white, purple smudges under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept all night. Without a backward glance at the car, he trotted up the steps and let himself into the apartment building. The Cadillac sat at the curb until a light went on in Alex's apartment, and then pulled away.
Clark watched the car go; the air he breathed in felt thick and sticky. Maybe he should just go home…it didn’t take a professor to figure out who Alex had been with all night. But Pete said…and Alex didn't look happy….
He swallowed a few times, worked up the nerve to ring the buzzer again. He marched up the stair and pressed the buzzer. Instantly the intercom crackled to life, startling Clark.
"Who the hell is it?"
"Oh--it's me, Clark. Can I come up?"
"Clark? No! Wait…yes."
The door clicked, and Clark quickly pushed it open, and ran up the stairs to Alex's top floor apartment. He waited outside the apartment door until he figured the correct amount of time had passed before knocking tentatively. The door flew open and Alex was standing there, looking very annoyed—the expression only lightened a bit when Clark said, "I was in the neighborhood…"
"Clark, it's…" he glanced at the gold face of his watch."It's six in the morning. How the hell do you come to be 'just in the neighborhood?'"
Clark edged past Alex into the apartment. "I walk a lot—I don't sleep so good. Your place is nice." He cocked an eyebrow, and gazed about. "Hunh. Messier than I thought it'd be…"
Clothes were every where, on wooden hangers, on padded hangers….they hung from the tops of doors, and from curtain rods and light fixtures …there were empty and half-full glasses and cups and overflowing ashtrays everywhere. Clark craned his neck, tried to look down the dark hall off the living area. He wished he could see what Alex's bedroom looked like...he could see a bit of the kitchenette, with its breakfast nook and mullioned doors leading to a little balcony. "It must be nice here in the morning, lots of light," he said with a smile. Alex nodded, still looking…confused…alarmed?
Clark sighed and folded his hands together behind his back. He watched Alex walk away from him, over to a desk in one corner, rosewood and brass and topped with a hutch. The desk, in contrast to the rest of the living room, was a model of neatness—pens and ink on their tray, the blotter lined up perfectly, neat stacks of paper covered with painstakingly perfect script, and alone on top of the desk, sat his clarinet case, the black leather gleaming in the low light. Clark smiled at the order there. That was the Alex he'd imagined. Alex followed his eyes around the apartment. "Well…some times it's neater than this…" he said, and his sentence trailed off.
"Really? Are you sure?"Clark laughed. He smiled at Alex and Alex actually blushed. He frowned and half-turned away from Clark, waved his hand at a radio that ratcheted up Clark's envy by a thousand…wow, his parents would have loved a radio like that…the top was lifted and underneath it was a record player. "Let's see if we can find some decent music this time of the morning--" Alex turned back to Clark with a wry smile. "That was a transparent bid to distract you from my lack of housekeeping," and Clark chuckled softly.
Alex bent over the dial, busily adjusting it until the station's sound was clear and music floated out of the cloth covered speakers. "What do you want Clark?" he murmured. "I thought last time we spoke, we agreed not to repeat any silly mistake."
Clark blinked at Alex. "I don’t remember that. I remember having a nice kiss and then, leaping to conclusions. You could have told me you and Pete weren't together."
"What?"
"I thought you and Pete were together and it...I couldn't do something like that. But I find out you're free, and I'm free, and that means—"
"Listen, Clark…I'm sorry, but this can't go anywhe—"
Clark kissed Alex--not much of one—a pretty crummy one, really, a kind of a mash of lips like little kids on a playground but he just needed to shut Alex up. "Get to know me before you say no," he said when he released him. "Get to know *me*, not the singer in the band, not Chloe's—" Clark stopped, and swallowed hard. Yeah. "Not Chloe's friend. Me."
Alex shook his head. "I'm sorry. I can't. I don't…I don’t want to."
Clark felt like he had the time he'd fallen off that train trestle—shocked and helpless, unable to breathe. The smile he struggled to keep on his face wobbled just a bit. "Okay, I do feel kind of silly now. I was prepared to storm the castle," he laughed weakly, went on with a slighter bigger smile, "and here no one's at home. I don’t embarrass myself as much as I used to, but I've got to say, this was a doozy." He stepped past Alex and had his hand on the doorknob when Alex said, "Don't go."
He stopped and leaned his forehead on the door. "Why not?"
"Boy…" Alex swiped both hands over his head and sighed. "I don't know what it's like out in the country, what kind of things happen, but in the city, sometimes—sometimes you get caught up in other people's webs."
Clark turned to Alex with a puzzled look. Alex grimaced and said, "I mean to say…I kind of stepped into this setup that…turned a little sour. I don’t want anyone to know. I'm trying to protect people, people I care about. If you get caught between me and…this thing, you'll get hurt. I couldn’t stand knowing I hurt you.
His heart skipped a beat. "You can't hurt me. No one can, not now. Believe me." Alex stalked away, grabbed a cigarette from the box on his desk. He lit it and drew in deep. "Clark, you don't know what kind of things can happen in this world. It's not like…it's different where I am, okay? Different rules apply. A person can get lost. A person can get hurt—or more—for a dozen different reasons."
Clark rubbed his face. "You mean Wade. You mean the people who run the club, and run the street. Don't you worry, Alex. I have a pretty damn good idea about this city and what happens in it. I walk at night. I see the underworld. I *know*."
"God, Clark, you *think* you know."
He felt a tide of frustration sweep over him—he tried to stay calm, balanced…"What if that guy wasn't in the picture? If he couldn't hurt anyone? Would you want me? Tell me the truth, the real truth. I trust you to do that."
Alex blew a noisy breath thick with smoke out, he laughed. "Trust me? Buddy boy, you don't even know me. Wade is…he's my lover. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Not Pete. Wade does things for me that you wouldn't understand."
Clark jerked back from Alex. "You're lying. I asked you for the truth and you're lying to me."
Alex laughed. "God, Clark, how old are you? Twenty, nineteen?" He suddenly looked wary…I'm serious Clark, how old are you?
"I'm…eighteen."
"Go home," he waved his hand. "Go back to—to—whatever farm town you came from and—"
Clark reached out and grabbed the hand Alex was waving. He closed his hand around the cigarette he held. "I'm not leaving. And I can take anything Wade or any of those goons can dish out." Alex yelped and tried to jerk his hand back. Clark only squeezed and opened his hand, showed Alex the crushed butt…and his unblemished hand. "I can protect you. Promise."
@@@@@@
Alex gaped at what should have been a pretty bad burn. Clark flexed his fingers, flattened his palm. It was clear…nothing but a black smear and ashes in his palm. Alex rubbed his thumb though it. "No mark—" Alex swept his free hand over his head. "What's the gimmick, Clark? How'd you do that?"
"Alex, there's something I want to tell you. Have to tell you. You have to listen with an…an open mind." Clark smiled a little, nerves making his mouth quirk. "You…have you ever wondered about life on…other worlds?"
"What, like…Things To Come? Buck Rogers? Monsters coming from space?"
Clark winced. "No, I mean like—" The door buzzer went off like a hive of crazed bees, on and off, and Alex thumbed the intercom. "Hey!" he shouted. "Do you mind?"
"Where are you? Rehearsal—hard to have when my lead guy is still in bed. Besides I brought breakfast—I'll let you look at my ass—"
"Jesus. Come on up." The look Alex turned on Clark was mostly relieved. "Can we talk later?"
"Yeah, but…Alex, this is important. Can we talk after the show tonight?"
The door flew open and Walt came in. "Hey, Alex---C.C.?" Walt threw the bag of donuts at Clark. "Hi. What are you doing here? Chloe's been looking for you." He narrowed his eyes at Clark, stared him up and down…he looked at Alex suspiciously. "Everything all right? You're not arguing over the song or anything, are you?"
"No sir, Mr. Walt. I just came to tell Alex something. It can wait, I guess." Walt was still looking at him, curiosity in his gaze. "Can I see you in the kitchen before I go, Alex?"
"Clark…"
"Just for one minute."
"Oh, all right." Clark walked past Walt with an apologetic smile and followed Alex into the small kitchenette.
"I wanted to say…" He curved his hands around Alex's shoulders and leaned in. "I hope you let me…" He pressed his lips to Alex's and this time, it wasn't a hasty smash of lips and teeth and chin. This time, it was soft and sweet, like he'd never ever kissed anyone before. He pressed in, flicked the tip of his tongue right against that little scar in the center of Alex's lip because he'd wanted to know how that felt…Alex moaned a little, and Clark felt everything flip inside of him. "Oh…" He lunged forward, pinching tender flesh between teeth, jamming his nose against Alex's. Alex laughed into Clark's mouth—gently took control of the kiss, guiding Clark into it. Clark let Alex tease his mouth open, slide his tongue inside, rake his lips with his teeth, over and over, scrape and sooth, scrape and sooth until they tingled, until they felt like they were burning…Clark didn't think anything could feel better and then Alex rolled his hips against Clark's.
Clark cried out, forgetting Walt, forgetting everything but that feeling, that touch. He was instantly hard, so hard it was almost painful. He was groaning, reaching out and pulling Alex into him, trying to keep Alex's cock rubbing against his. Blood thundered in his ears, his cock, the pulse beat all through him, filling him—he felt that tingling, thrumming, wild feeling start in his gut, the base of his cock. His boxers were wet and clinging to him, and…he was so close, he needed to stop, stop touching….
@@@@@@
It was like being dropped into the center of a volcano. Like falling into fire, a whole lake of fire…Clark was so…so…inexperienced, but enthusiastic. Wildly enthusiastic. Alex felt a little flash of fear…*strong* and wildly enthusiastic….They hit the kitchen table and it scraped across the floor with a shriek, the chairs went tumbling.
"Shhh! Clark—Walt--!" Alex gasped, tried to keep his mouth against Clark's but Clark kept whimpering, moving, pulling Alex with him, trying to grind against him. They staggered the length of the little kitchen, bumping against counter, stove, icebox, making a horrible racket and all Alex could do was try to keep up with him, grinning, laughing….
Clark fetched up against the icebox and moaned. "You're laughing at me."
"God, no, Clark, you—you're so fucking sexy—so fucking—it's adorable—"
Clark dropped his hands from Alex's hips, and stood swaying, red-faced and sweating, his clothes rumpled, his hair wild from Alex's grip in it. "*Adorable*?" Alex blinked. For one strange moment, Clark's eyes seemed to flash red…he shook his head and looked again, and Clark's sea green eyes glittered through a messy fall of black waves. He was scowling, trying to pull his clothes back in order.
Alex raked his fingers through Clark's hair, trying to fix it. He said quietly, "Hey, did you go deaf on the part where I said sexy? Very sexy…" A very impressive bulge filled out the front of Clark's chinos, a little too impressive if he wanted to walk past Walt without advertising what'd been going on in the kitchen. He yanked Clark's shirt out, smoothed it over his pants to hide the bulge. He meant to do it quickly, impersonally, but the heat, the thickness…the kid was so fucking…alive, he had to squeeze, feel it, just a little. Clark yelped, threw his head back against the icebox. Alex winced. The poor guy's head hit with a 'thunk' that had to be heard in the other room. Hard hit or not, Clark pushed into Alex's hand, and shuddered so hard, for a second Alex thought he'd come. "Clark…?"
Clark lowered his head to look at him, slowly opening his eyes. "I…I. I'm sorry. I've never done this with. I mean, I've come pretty close…damn." He flushed even harder.
Alex drank in the sight of him, flushed and quivering…God, Clark was the picture of sex and he didn't even know it. Alex wanted more than anything to toss Walt out of the apartment, rip Clark's clothes off and suck his cock until he had him deep in his throat. He wanted his tongue in every bit of him, from his mouth to his ass--he wanted to throw him face down on the bed and fuck him until they both screamed.
And he couldn't, and it was going to kill him, swear to god, this was going to murder him. His prick didn't care about right and wrong, it was trying to rise….He swallowed down a groan and tried a smile. "Don't worry, I couldn't tell. Not at all."
Clark backed out of the room, still red-cheeked, now smiling. "I'll see you tonight, I mean, at rehearsal. I mean--" he laughed, whirled around and out of the room.
Alex whispered at Clark's departing back. "God, I wish…I wish."
part 32
eta: aaaaahstooopit!! where is my brain?
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