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roxyTitle: How I Spent My Summer Vacation
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/ Whit, Jason/Whit
Rating: R
Summary: All about what Clark learns on his summer job.
I promise, this one is not going to be a year long never-ending WIP.
The previous parts are lounging about here, in nothing but underwear, tsk-tsk. Oh dear, not their own? You have wonderful taste in underwear. *koff* just sayin'….
Clark thought about Lana all that night…well, he thought about Whit too, but mostly about Lana. And thought about the good old days when he'd get a hard-on thinking about her, not her boyfriend…or her boyfriend's boyfriend—gaah, what the fuck was wrong with his life? Wasn't it enough to be a freak from space? Thanks a lot God, don’t ever let anyone tell you you don’t have a sense of humor.
The next night, he waited until Dad went out to the porch with his paper for a little quiet time, and followed him. Because if he didn’t talk about this to someone, his brains were going to explode and Dad had surprisingly good advice considering he was an old guy.
He dropped down next to Dad, and Dad looked patiently…sipped his ice-tea and shook the newspaper suggestively as in, get a move on Clark…"Dad…if you knew someone was cheating on someone else, and you were friends with the someone else, would you tell them?"
"Hunh. It depends. Were you telling them to help or to clear the field?" His dad searched his face, folded the paper and laid it down. "What's up, Clark? You look…upset."
Clark shook his head. "Truth, Dad? I don't know. I'm…I guess I'm trying to figure stuff out…I. You know Lana?" Dad snorted. "Yeah…well, I'm worried about her. But today I realized—I'm just worried about her. I'm not…it's different. And I'm not making sense." Clark felt confused, and he must have looked as confused as he felt. Dad patted his arm.
"It's called growing up, Clark. You've had a crush on her since first grade…it's natural that it's fading--changing. Other girls, other interests…it's okay. You don't have to be faithful to an image of someone." He smiled briefly and then the ghost of a frown made the smile fade. "So…is Whitney cheating on her? That's the problem?"
Clark shrugged and stared down at the suddenly fascinating toes of his boots. "Sort of. I don’t know if I should tell her or not. She might think it's just jealousy, and that's—I don't want to make a problem where it doesn’t exist, y'know?"
Dad shook his head. "Son, it's been my experience that certain kinds of news almost always result in the death of the messenger. That's all I can tell you about that."
Jason was back, turned out he'd taken a bad spill down the basement stairs. He was still limping a little, and he had yellow fading bruises all long his left side: face, shoulders, ribs, and his hands. Pete said it looked like he'd fallen down the stairs and the stairs got pissed off and kicked the shit out of him.
It was surprisingly better with Jason back, Whit was back to normal, work was back to normal—well, more or less--there was the weirdness of Lana coming around more often and Jason seemed to be keeping away from Whit. Not so much work wise, it was just…they didn’t act weird and they didn't take lunches away from the site anymore. Gabe must have said something. After a while Clark put that knowledge of them in a little box and shut it. It must have been some kind of…temporary madness. Whit was all over Lana all the time. Folks were starting to talk about marriage and perfect and fairytale romance. And everything was fine….
They were sitting on a picnic table in the back of SV's biggest law office. Great job—there was a strip of grass and marigolds in front of the building and two small yews flanking the head of a brick sidewalk. A purple clematis climbed a fake gas light pole trying to make the brick and glass building look like it been there since the town was built and not brand new in 1999. Between the strip of front lawn, and the little postage stamp of a lawn in back, where the table sat, this was a sweet, spin it out kind of job and the only guys on it were Clark, Jason, and Whit. Clark yawned, stretched, and got a vicious glare from Jason, which he ignored. It wasn't him Jason was glaring at—rather it wasn't a personal glare. Jason had been eyeballing everything with a vicious glare. Though today it was an especially vicious glare, since Lana came to bring her Prince Charming lunch. Jason sat next to Clark on the picnic table and watched Whit and Lana chatting on the sidewalk, laughing and flirting, being pretty as can be together and Jason's teeth were grinding slowly and he said, not loudly, but very clearly, "whore."
Clark jerked. "Did you just call Lana a whore?" 'Cause, granted they were nauseating but…
Jason looked steadily into Clark's eyes, and said. "No, I did not."
"But you just said--" and some part of Clark's brain kicked in, and slapped his mouth shut, and it was a miracle. He was very grateful to whatever part of his brain it was, and promised it chocolate cake. Jason didn’t speak again, but he might as well have been screaming and cursing non-stop for as comfortable as the rest of the day went. Clark was thankful to the point of tears to be away, and Whit, Whit looked like shit…he should. Cheating bastard. Okay and the weirdness there was that he wasn't sure who Whit was cheating on….
5
Saturday was going to be a long day with no work, but he'd really looked forward to it. Nothing to do after the animals had been taken care of, Mom and Dad took off to Metropolis for Mom's annual For God's Sake, Let's Get Some Culture tour, and that meant he was on his own and loving it. That meant cereal, coke and TV for breakfast. That meant really loud music, sneaking a beer and maybe some jerking off where you didn't have to bite a hole into your pillow but that wasn't the best part of them being out of the house because that would be kind of pathetic. Kind of. Clark slurped up a spoonful of FrootLoopCheerioCinnamonCrunch and flicked back and forth from Nik to ESPN. Yeah, it was shaping up to be a good morning.
The phone ringing knocked him out of his sugar-laden trance. "What?"
"That's how you answer the phone?"
"Sorry…yes, oh Little Prince of Creamed Corn?"
"Yeah, fuck you. What are you doing tonight?"
"Why," Clark mumbled around a mouthful of cereal. "I'm free though—Mom'nDad are out for the night."
"Fucking hell, you're kidding! That's perfect! Whit and Jason are having a party for the crew, guests invited, hello. There's going to be food, and beer and it'll be fun."
"Beer? How are we getting beer? They're not old enough to buy it either…"
"Whit's Dad is cool. He says as long as we don’t leave the house, it's cool."
Cool? Clark grimaced. It sounded like a real bad idea. But still…if Whit's parents were going to be there, how bad could it be? "Are you gonna tell Abbie and Billiam about the beer?"
"Hell no—they'd never let me out of the house if they knew. But if I tell them it's a barbeque for the crew, out of the kindness of Whit's walnut-like heart, we're good to go—oh, and I'm telling 'em I'm spending the night at your house. Which is always cool with them, 'cause they know you're such a fucking Boy Scout."
And spending the night was code for if I get lucky you won't see my ass 'til tomorrow. "Well, I guess…okay. You picking me up? Or should I drive myself?"
"Take the truck, I'm hoping like hell to get lucky." See? Just as I thought.
"I can't be suave and debonair with your giant ass in the back seat."
"Yeah, luck with that, buddy. Thank God you're rich."
"Screw you Farmer Kent."
Clark thought that was funny. He finished the cereal, watched some animated kids kick each other's ass for a while, and decided to take a shower now, instead of later. Not that it was important what he looked like. Not at all.
Under the comforting rush of water, he let himself go, let his mind wander wherever it wanted to go. Which apparently was back in the woods, watching Whit fuck the hell out of Jason, but this time, he was there, helping…in a way. He stood over Whit, fucked his mouth while Whit fucked Jason. It was a good position—he had Whit to suck him and he got to watch Jason fall apart. It took him a few minutes to come and being alone was great because he got loud—really loud. His throat ached, muscles from stomach to ass ached, he came so hard, and it made him wonder--did it feel as good as Jason made it look, to be fucked like that…?
part 5
TBC
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/ Whit, Jason/Whit
Rating: R
Summary: All about what Clark learns on his summer job.
I promise, this one is not going to be a year long never-ending WIP.
The previous parts are lounging about here, in nothing but underwear, tsk-tsk. Oh dear, not their own? You have wonderful taste in underwear. *koff* just sayin'….
Clark thought about Lana all that night…well, he thought about Whit too, but mostly about Lana. And thought about the good old days when he'd get a hard-on thinking about her, not her boyfriend…or her boyfriend's boyfriend—gaah, what the fuck was wrong with his life? Wasn't it enough to be a freak from space? Thanks a lot God, don’t ever let anyone tell you you don’t have a sense of humor.
The next night, he waited until Dad went out to the porch with his paper for a little quiet time, and followed him. Because if he didn’t talk about this to someone, his brains were going to explode and Dad had surprisingly good advice considering he was an old guy.
He dropped down next to Dad, and Dad looked patiently…sipped his ice-tea and shook the newspaper suggestively as in, get a move on Clark…"Dad…if you knew someone was cheating on someone else, and you were friends with the someone else, would you tell them?"
"Hunh. It depends. Were you telling them to help or to clear the field?" His dad searched his face, folded the paper and laid it down. "What's up, Clark? You look…upset."
Clark shook his head. "Truth, Dad? I don't know. I'm…I guess I'm trying to figure stuff out…I. You know Lana?" Dad snorted. "Yeah…well, I'm worried about her. But today I realized—I'm just worried about her. I'm not…it's different. And I'm not making sense." Clark felt confused, and he must have looked as confused as he felt. Dad patted his arm.
"It's called growing up, Clark. You've had a crush on her since first grade…it's natural that it's fading--changing. Other girls, other interests…it's okay. You don't have to be faithful to an image of someone." He smiled briefly and then the ghost of a frown made the smile fade. "So…is Whitney cheating on her? That's the problem?"
Clark shrugged and stared down at the suddenly fascinating toes of his boots. "Sort of. I don’t know if I should tell her or not. She might think it's just jealousy, and that's—I don't want to make a problem where it doesn’t exist, y'know?"
Dad shook his head. "Son, it's been my experience that certain kinds of news almost always result in the death of the messenger. That's all I can tell you about that."
Jason was back, turned out he'd taken a bad spill down the basement stairs. He was still limping a little, and he had yellow fading bruises all long his left side: face, shoulders, ribs, and his hands. Pete said it looked like he'd fallen down the stairs and the stairs got pissed off and kicked the shit out of him.
It was surprisingly better with Jason back, Whit was back to normal, work was back to normal—well, more or less--there was the weirdness of Lana coming around more often and Jason seemed to be keeping away from Whit. Not so much work wise, it was just…they didn’t act weird and they didn't take lunches away from the site anymore. Gabe must have said something. After a while Clark put that knowledge of them in a little box and shut it. It must have been some kind of…temporary madness. Whit was all over Lana all the time. Folks were starting to talk about marriage and perfect and fairytale romance. And everything was fine….
They were sitting on a picnic table in the back of SV's biggest law office. Great job—there was a strip of grass and marigolds in front of the building and two small yews flanking the head of a brick sidewalk. A purple clematis climbed a fake gas light pole trying to make the brick and glass building look like it been there since the town was built and not brand new in 1999. Between the strip of front lawn, and the little postage stamp of a lawn in back, where the table sat, this was a sweet, spin it out kind of job and the only guys on it were Clark, Jason, and Whit. Clark yawned, stretched, and got a vicious glare from Jason, which he ignored. It wasn't him Jason was glaring at—rather it wasn't a personal glare. Jason had been eyeballing everything with a vicious glare. Though today it was an especially vicious glare, since Lana came to bring her Prince Charming lunch. Jason sat next to Clark on the picnic table and watched Whit and Lana chatting on the sidewalk, laughing and flirting, being pretty as can be together and Jason's teeth were grinding slowly and he said, not loudly, but very clearly, "whore."
Clark jerked. "Did you just call Lana a whore?" 'Cause, granted they were nauseating but…
Jason looked steadily into Clark's eyes, and said. "No, I did not."
"But you just said--" and some part of Clark's brain kicked in, and slapped his mouth shut, and it was a miracle. He was very grateful to whatever part of his brain it was, and promised it chocolate cake. Jason didn’t speak again, but he might as well have been screaming and cursing non-stop for as comfortable as the rest of the day went. Clark was thankful to the point of tears to be away, and Whit, Whit looked like shit…he should. Cheating bastard. Okay and the weirdness there was that he wasn't sure who Whit was cheating on….
5
Saturday was going to be a long day with no work, but he'd really looked forward to it. Nothing to do after the animals had been taken care of, Mom and Dad took off to Metropolis for Mom's annual For God's Sake, Let's Get Some Culture tour, and that meant he was on his own and loving it. That meant cereal, coke and TV for breakfast. That meant really loud music, sneaking a beer and maybe some jerking off where you didn't have to bite a hole into your pillow but that wasn't the best part of them being out of the house because that would be kind of pathetic. Kind of. Clark slurped up a spoonful of FrootLoopCheerioCinnamonCrunch and flicked back and forth from Nik to ESPN. Yeah, it was shaping up to be a good morning.
The phone ringing knocked him out of his sugar-laden trance. "What?"
"That's how you answer the phone?"
"Sorry…yes, oh Little Prince of Creamed Corn?"
"Yeah, fuck you. What are you doing tonight?"
"Why," Clark mumbled around a mouthful of cereal. "I'm free though—Mom'nDad are out for the night."
"Fucking hell, you're kidding! That's perfect! Whit and Jason are having a party for the crew, guests invited, hello. There's going to be food, and beer and it'll be fun."
"Beer? How are we getting beer? They're not old enough to buy it either…"
"Whit's Dad is cool. He says as long as we don’t leave the house, it's cool."
Cool? Clark grimaced. It sounded like a real bad idea. But still…if Whit's parents were going to be there, how bad could it be? "Are you gonna tell Abbie and Billiam about the beer?"
"Hell no—they'd never let me out of the house if they knew. But if I tell them it's a barbeque for the crew, out of the kindness of Whit's walnut-like heart, we're good to go—oh, and I'm telling 'em I'm spending the night at your house. Which is always cool with them, 'cause they know you're such a fucking Boy Scout."
And spending the night was code for if I get lucky you won't see my ass 'til tomorrow. "Well, I guess…okay. You picking me up? Or should I drive myself?"
"Take the truck, I'm hoping like hell to get lucky." See? Just as I thought.
"I can't be suave and debonair with your giant ass in the back seat."
"Yeah, luck with that, buddy. Thank God you're rich."
"Screw you Farmer Kent."
Clark thought that was funny. He finished the cereal, watched some animated kids kick each other's ass for a while, and decided to take a shower now, instead of later. Not that it was important what he looked like. Not at all.
Under the comforting rush of water, he let himself go, let his mind wander wherever it wanted to go. Which apparently was back in the woods, watching Whit fuck the hell out of Jason, but this time, he was there, helping…in a way. He stood over Whit, fucked his mouth while Whit fucked Jason. It was a good position—he had Whit to suck him and he got to watch Jason fall apart. It took him a few minutes to come and being alone was great because he got loud—really loud. His throat ached, muscles from stomach to ass ached, he came so hard, and it made him wonder--did it feel as good as Jason made it look, to be fucked like that…?
part 5
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
7/25/08 05:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
7/25/08 07:05 am (UTC)Oh my, it's awful how much sex has crept into this supposed to be funny story! Not to mention Teh Angst! *G*
(no subject)
7/25/08 05:12 am (UTC)Okay. Um. Good fantasy, Clark! I approve!
:)
And i'm *very* suspicious of Jason's 'fall'. Very.
*eyes you*
(no subject)
7/25/08 07:06 am (UTC)And i'm *very* suspicious of Jason's 'fall'. Very
*whistles, looks all innocent* What?
(no subject)
7/25/08 05:48 am (UTC)I confess!
7/25/08 07:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
7/25/08 11:06 am (UTC)>Dad had surprisingly good advice considering he was an old guy.
haha! funny how that works. *g*
(the paragraph with the boys on the picnic table has the word 'viscious' misspelled a couple of times.)
>"I can't be suave and debonair with your giant ass in the back seat."
haha again!
i like the scene with jonathan a lot. can't wait now for the party. :)
(no subject)
7/25/08 01:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
7/25/08 02:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
7/25/08 02:03 pm (UTC)*smacks head* spell check is the Devil!
(no subject)
7/25/08 02:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
7/25/08 12:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
7/25/08 01:58 pm (UTC)LOL! No! Not Lana but it would have been really really interesting, hunh? *G*
, not her boyfriend…or her boyfriend's boyfriend—gaah
7/25/08 08:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
5/2/10 04:58 pm (UTC)The end fantasy in the shower...I need air conditioning now.
(no subject)
5/2/10 07:01 pm (UTC)I need air conditioning now. *GRINS* !