SV: Almost
6/16/09 08:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: Almost
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 3251
Summary: strictly PWP
"Hey Lex! Your um, butle—house—guy, let me in. Is that okay?"
"Enrique."
"What?"
Lex tilted his chin up to smile at Clark. "His name's Enrique." Lex stood up from his desk, stuffed hands in his pockets and strolled around it to face Clark. "It's okay." He tipped a shoulder, a signal to Clark it wasn't important what he called his…'house guy'. "What brings the studious Clark Kent to my humble abode?"
"Humble—rii-ght. I mean—you know what I mean. And yeah, I am Mr. Studious lately." Clark did that thing, that looking up from under long lashes—as if he was shorter than Lex. "If I don’t pull up my English grade, I'm dead meat. But…I'm. It's so boring Lex. Math is easy and English is just…erg. And I miss…" He shrugged and colored faintly, that easy way he did. Lex felt the usual flicker of want curl inside him at that, dismissed it, as usual.
"You miss…? First run movies? Pool games you're never going to win? Or maybe Cook's Death by Chocolate Chip cookies?" Lex smirked.
"No—I miss you—which you know darn well, and I think you’re kind of fishing for compliments." Clark grinned and the faint color on his cheeks flared bright red—he even looked a little startled at how bold he was. Lex swallowed. Be good, be brave--it's more time than you can do if you touch him….
"Anyway, all that, yeah, plus really…" Clark held up textbooks with a wry smile. "I really do need to pull up my grade, so I talked mom into letting me come over and study.'Cause besides being a fount of knowledge—" and Lex was startled into snorting—"you have a library even better than Smallville's county branch, which seriously sucks eggs." Clark made a face, and narrowed his eyes in the direction of town.
"Well, I open my doors to you, Scholar Kent. My library is yours. Anything I can help you with, let me know. I'll be right here; you can call Cook from the library—"
Clark's face was so open, projecting disappointment. "But…but if you're in the study, and I'm in the library, how is that not missing you still?"
Lex let one corner of his mouth curve up, and inside his head, moaned like a starving man. Oh, god, miss you—I miss everything I haven't even seen yet—I miss your lips, every night, why can't I be drowning right now, fuck—"I did have some work to do…but I guess I could take my work to the library. All right, I will join you. Only because I don’t want to cause you any more emotional stress."
"Lex." Clark grinned, the blush lightening, but his eyes sparkled and he looked very obviously pleased. How, Lex wondered could Clark not really seem to know how easy it was for him to manipulate Lex? Innocence, Lex figured. Innocence and inexperience. Good for Clark, he thought, and good for his parents that they were able to give a kid who looked like Clark a childhood…by Clark's age, he thought, there wasn't much he hadn't been introduced to.
******
Clark was spread out on the couch, reading, his face a mask of serious concentration. Lex sneaked looks from time to time, watching Clark blink, lick his lips, twist a few strands of hair around his finger, press his thumb against his lower lip as he muttered, "oh, okay…" Lex watched the thick, pink flesh give against the pressure and flush red, glisten a little with saliva as his tongue swept out to lick the reddened spot….
Lex jerked his eyes away when Clark turned to grab a notebook off the table. He caught the little motion and looked pleased.
"Lex, how's your homework going?" he smiled, and Lex laughed back.
"Good, Clark. You?"
Clark yawned. "I'm tired—no, hungry. Or maybe thirsty. Um…a little bit of both?" and his cheeks went a little pink, as though admitting such a thing was embarrassing. Lex laughed softly, shut down the laptop. He waved the wrist sporting the Napoleon watch.
"Look, miraculously it's break time." He came around the couch and dropped down next to Clark. "How about we take care of all your problems—well, except the being tired. Nothing I can do about that."
Clark stretched, and looked at Lex from the corner of his eye. He yawned and said, "At home, I'd just take my shoes off and lay all over the couch, until Dad kicks me off."
"Well by all means, my long-legged friend, lay out. No one's going to kick you off my couch." Lex lifted an eyebrow and Clark grinned, toed off his shoes and flexed his toes with a little moan. He lifted each leg, bent each at the knee and even Lex could hear his joints pop.
Lex winced. "Clark—your joints sound like an old man's."
He nodded. "Mom says it's growing pains, I guess. It's not…painful, it's just…odd." Clark looked like he had no words to describe what he was feeling—he looked confused.
"Really? You're rather older to be bothered with growing pains…"
Clark just shrugged, smiled, and then winced a little, eyes wide and mesmerizing….
"When I was younger, much younger than you, I went through this intense growth spurt--" Lex grimaced, Clark twinned his expression, wincing in sympathy, "--and shot up from a chubby twelve year old to a rather lanky thirteen. My father used to have a chauffer who was…trained in martial arts. He knew a lot about aching joints. Anyway," Lex continued, "he helped when it hurt really bad…and my dad insisted the pain was all in my mind."
For a moment Clark looked furious, but then, looked absolutely pathetic. "My knees and ankles ache. Like, all the time."
"Then you're in luck." Lex cracked his fingers in an exaggerated show of readiness. "Prop those legs up on the couch, my boy. I'll set things to right."
Clark laughed, swung his legs up and ended with his legs covering the whole couch, plus Lex's knees.
Lex smiled, completely ignoring the horrified voice in his head shouting he's got his underage legs in your lap! He's touching you, you're molesting his innocent ankles—the sane part of his brain calmly pointed out Clark's legs were firmly and safely across his knees, not touching any problematic parts whatsoever…and in fact his toes were wedged against the arm of the couch. Safely, innocently and there was no reason to be gibbering internally at all.
Clark whuffed in relief. "It's just feels good to get my feet up. It's like—this weird pressure, like my bones are trying to stretch or something," he snorted. "Where's the remote?"
Lex jerked his chin at the table. "Dish, next to the magazines—" and Clark leaned over and snagged it.
"Got it!"
Lex nodded and smiled. "Oh good." He tried to move his body using the power of his mind, just—if he could just shrink his flesh a bit so that Clark's (warm) legs weren't making contact with his lap quite so firmly. "Ah, you'll have to sit upright so I can get to your ankles—you really did have growth spurt. spurt. oh god… You're not going to fit this couch if you don’t stop growing." Lex grinned and melted in relief inside—Clark was wholly absorbed in the TV, and missing the flush that swept Lex from his neck up.
"Okay," Lex said, "I'll just…" he started kneading and manipulating Clark's ankles, felt a faint pop under his fingers and Clark looked at him in surprise.
"Wow, that—that feels *good*!"
"Well, yes, it's supposed to," Lex smiled, and kept working. The remote sagged in Clark's hand as he watched Lex work, groaning faintly when the tugging and kneading felt especially good. Lex fought blushing, fought shifting. Licked his Sahara-dry lips.
"Oh wow," Clark breathed, and it was low, throaty, and definitely made Lex's dick perk up and ask, he…llo? Should I be involved here?
"Can you do my knees too?" Clark asked. He seemed fascinated by Lex's fingers.
"Sure, sure I can." He squeezed and rubbed up Clark's calves, and wondered how much this was helping Clark, but Clark seemed to think it was working quite well. His eyes were at half-mast, and he kept making these tiny little satisfied noises and Lex was well on his way to a hard-on. move, move, you idiot, move before… Lex's long fingers wrapped around one of Clark's knees and probed.
"Yow—I think, I think you need to massage right there," Clark breathed and Lex nodded, his thumb pushing deep into the back of Clark's knee... He refused to think just how much better this would be with less denim and wool between the two of them.
"Oh—oh—that's—that's nice," Clark stuttered and his leg jerked. Definitely his legs, not his hips, Lex thought, because that would be…Lex wondered if he could convince Clark he needed a pillow under his legs to make the massage better—it would at least cover his all-together too damn happy dick.
And Clark shifted again. Made contact.
Lex was torn. He desperately wanted to moan. And get up, and walk out of the room, keep walking. He found the television infinitely fascinating. There was a flutter of sensation on his wrist, he looked down…Clark's fingers were wrapped around his wrist. He slowly pulled Lex's wrist off his knee—Lex swallowed, hard, he was pretty sure Clark heard him swallow. Clark was staring at him, half-bold, half scared. Slowly, giving Lex every opportunity to run…he gently tugged on Lex's hand, until it was resting over the hot rise of his erection. Clark was hard. He blinked rapidly when Lex's hand settled over him, said, "Oh," when Lex tightened. His eyes rolled back when Lex pressed down and started to rub. Lex watched the pink tip of Clark's tongue slide out between his teeth. He found the head of Clark's dick, pressed there until Clark's hips were definitely moving and the denim was beginning to darken. "…Clark?"
Clark's only answer was a moan. Lex decided to throw caution and common sense to the wind, and eased Clark's zipper down, slowly, and quietly as he could—not sneaking, just—not wanting to break the mood. When his finger slipped past the fabric, and touched skin, hot and silky and Clark…it topped any fantasy he'd ever had. The boy was rigid as iron, and when Lex squeezed a little, his dick jumped, thumped against Lex's palm. Clark's eyes were closed, his head tilted back and he was making a sound that was the hottest thing Lex had ever heard. His fingertips rode lightly up and down Clark's shaft and his own erection was begging for attention—and suddenly his brains came back from their brief vacation in stupidity. He jerked his hand away.
"Shit! God—Clark, we can't. I can't--won't."
"Why not? You like me, right? I mean, I like you. I'm not asking for, for…more," he muttered, his voice heavy and a pout growing. "Or maybe I'm not good enough, not like Metropolis guys…"
Lex groaned. "Clark, don’t get mad at me because I don’t want to go to jail."
"But I'm legal—almost. Come on Lex, my birthday's so close, it doesn't matter—"
"*Almost*, Clark. Almost is the line that defines the incarcerated from the free. If we did anything—I couldn’t hide it—could you? From your parents, your friends? And it's not really age Clark, it's experience. My six years of experience compared to your…?"
"None," Clark pouted. "You know that. You know…" Clark suddenly became fascinated by his knees, and muttered," You know me better than most."
"And…we can't because your parents would be disappointed in the both of us—and I don’t want that, do you?"like Jonathan wouldn't gut you in a heartbeat for defiling his son…
"No…I guess not." Suddenly Clark's innocent face went all sly, wicked in a way Lex didn’t think he was capable of...fuck, that was now his favorite expression.
"What if we…just looked? And…did it ourselves?"
Lex felt a jagged bolt of lightning push right though him, his dick jerked, hard. "Are you," Lex winced and cursed inwardly when his throat went painfully dry mid-word. "Do you mean. Masturbation?"
Clark blushed fire red and rolled his eyes. "Gosh! Yes…you sound like health class." And then his momentary flash of sarcasm faded. "Or…is that dumb? It's stupid, right? I know you—"
Lex closed his eyes and experienced the interesting sensation of almost coming in his pants, something he hadn't done since he was fourteen. Simple jerking off with company was also something he hadn't done since then…along with kissing for hours, and fumbling towards discovery with someone he kind of liked. Sex nowadays was pretty much cut and dried and very, very, good because his set didn't do anything by half measures but this…"God Clark, yeah…we can do that."
Clark was still red, his lips were wet, and he was breathing hard…he worked open the button on his jeans, and pulled the zipper down…the sound of the teeth disengaging seemed to echo in the room. Lex's eyes were locked on Clark's hand. The anticipation was almost a physical pain. He laid his palm over his own erection, and Clark quirked a quick shy smile. "You too, Lex."
Lex shook his head. He didn’t want anything to distract him from this moment, but the heat of his own dick radiating against his palm made him feel weak, and needy. He undid the fastening on his trousers, let them slip open. He palmed himself again. The silk over his erection slid with the movement of his hand. It was burning. "Clark…look what you're doing to me," he whispered so softly he wasn't sure he actually spoke. A black spot bloomed on the steel gray silk, growing as precome was wicked up through the material.
Clark's eyes locked on Lex's mouth, his pupils went wide, black nearly swallowing the ocean green …Clark's own mouth parted, his breath came even harder. "Lex, that's…that makes me feel…" he grimaced, opened his mouth wider on a faint gasp. His hips rose, and he pushed his jeans and ugly cotton briefs right down under his ass, freeing the most beautiful dick Lex had ever seen…no small accomplishment, he thought—he'd seen many. He drank in the sight of Clark's damp cheeks flushing a deeper red, his lips swelling a deeper pink, the shy smile he offered Lex, before his hand rose along the thick length, squeezing drops of precome from the deep rose tip—
Lex was swept with the oddest feeling of regret, that this wasn't his first time. A sudden ice-cold thought speared him, and an unpleasant spark grew in his chest, and he asked. "Clark, have you done this with anyone, before?"
Clark laughed softly, a weak huff of air. "Lex—no." He smiled at Lex, shook his head, "No," he repeated. "Never…ah…" he sighed, and his hips arched up, precome laced his fingers, dripped in slow steady strings to his hard stomach. Lex eased his own dick from the confines of his boxers and started matching Clark stroke for stroke. It was so—high school, so juvenile, no finesse, no technique—and it was going to make him come way too soon.
Clark's hand moved faster, his eyes avid on Lex. "Your cock—" he stopped and blushed impossibly harder—"is—it's beautiful," he breathed out and his eyelids dropped, and his dick jerked, spat precome.
God! Lex felt his checks flush, felt the flush work down his neck and his chest. His hand tightened, he moved rougher, faster, and his balls tightened. He was going to come. He had no control, none, and he doubted he could hold off much longer…he really needed to come.
Clark was panting louder; the obscene liquid squelch of his hand flying over his erection was driving both of them to the edge. Lex wanted, burned--wanted so much he was faint--to touch Clark. His mouth watered thinking of sinking down on Clark's dick, tasting that, feeling that hardness, all that velvet skin, choking himself on it, driving it in to his throat until he gagged—Lex arched and came, felt it from his ass to his heart, felt like he was shooting liquid fire….
"Oh my-- Lex—"
Clark worked his mouth, but nothing came out. He stared—at Lex's come, spattered across his jean covered knees, and dripping from the back of his hand, mixing with his pre-come and sweat, and, and Lex was unstrung, flopped against the couch, muzzily thinking, hunh, towels, we should have had towels. His dick gave another painful jerk at the sight of his come sliding in between Clark's knuckles and mixing with the silvery strands of precome streaming down his shaft. "Um, sorry, I didn't—"
Clark moaned, a low sound muffled in his chest, curled suddenly over his flying fist, and grunted, came. Pearly fluid flew up, splattered his chin, streaked his cheek, his lips…he was silent, his mouth pressed tight, eyes screwed violently shut.
Lex moaned himself, and wished he could come again.
Clark dropped back against the arm of the couch and sighed…"Oh. Oh man. Oh wow, wow…"
"Yeah." Lex gasped out a weak laugh. "Yeah."
He took off his shirt, pulled off his undershirt off too, and wiped himself down with it as best he could before handing it to Clark. Clark was so red there was no way he could blush harder, but Lex knew that the second he touched Clark's hand, Clark flushed. He kept his eyes down, and wiped carefully, cleaning off his face, his stomach, and was about to wipe off his hands when Lex grabbed the hand smeared with their come, and thoroughly, slowly, licked it clean.
"Oh…wow…" Clark's eyes were big, and fixed on Lex's tongue dancing between his fingers, licking and sucking each one clean, until it tasted of nothing but skin. Clark stared at Lex as in shock. Lex preferred to think it was awe. Clark blinked. Definitely awe.
"Wow…" again. Clark pounced on Lex, drew him forward with his big hot hands, and kissed Lex—mauled Lex. Sucked and licked the taste of himself from Lex's mouth, his velvet hot tongue chasing it out of every crease of Lex's mouth, from the corners of his mouth, the fold of his lips and ended by working his teeth gently over the swell of Lex's now incredibly sensitive and swollen lips. It felt wonderful.
Clark reluctantly released him, and Lex sat back, fingers pressed to his lips, feeling…a little too damn happy for what had just happened. "Clark…"
"I know, I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have—but don’t tell me you didn’t like it.
"I can't. I'm not that good a liar."
"Good." Clark smiled. Blinked a few times, and barely managed to muffle a yawn. "Hey," he drawled, "Can you come sit over here by me?"
Lex would stab himself in the eye before he'd admit he loved cuddling, but right now, it was all he wanted. "Let me set the alarm, I don't want to sleep past your curfew."
"Poor Lex," Clark murmured sleepily, and gathered him in. "Stuck with an under age….friend," he finished weakly.
"Yeah, poor me," he said and curled himself around Clark. "Poor, poor me."
6-15-2009
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 3251
Summary: strictly PWP
"Hey Lex! Your um, butle—house—guy, let me in. Is that okay?"
"Enrique."
"What?"
Lex tilted his chin up to smile at Clark. "His name's Enrique." Lex stood up from his desk, stuffed hands in his pockets and strolled around it to face Clark. "It's okay." He tipped a shoulder, a signal to Clark it wasn't important what he called his…'house guy'. "What brings the studious Clark Kent to my humble abode?"
"Humble—rii-ght. I mean—you know what I mean. And yeah, I am Mr. Studious lately." Clark did that thing, that looking up from under long lashes—as if he was shorter than Lex. "If I don’t pull up my English grade, I'm dead meat. But…I'm. It's so boring Lex. Math is easy and English is just…erg. And I miss…" He shrugged and colored faintly, that easy way he did. Lex felt the usual flicker of want curl inside him at that, dismissed it, as usual.
"You miss…? First run movies? Pool games you're never going to win? Or maybe Cook's Death by Chocolate Chip cookies?" Lex smirked.
"No—I miss you—which you know darn well, and I think you’re kind of fishing for compliments." Clark grinned and the faint color on his cheeks flared bright red—he even looked a little startled at how bold he was. Lex swallowed. Be good, be brave--it's more time than you can do if you touch him….
"Anyway, all that, yeah, plus really…" Clark held up textbooks with a wry smile. "I really do need to pull up my grade, so I talked mom into letting me come over and study.'Cause besides being a fount of knowledge—" and Lex was startled into snorting—"you have a library even better than Smallville's county branch, which seriously sucks eggs." Clark made a face, and narrowed his eyes in the direction of town.
"Well, I open my doors to you, Scholar Kent. My library is yours. Anything I can help you with, let me know. I'll be right here; you can call Cook from the library—"
Clark's face was so open, projecting disappointment. "But…but if you're in the study, and I'm in the library, how is that not missing you still?"
Lex let one corner of his mouth curve up, and inside his head, moaned like a starving man. Oh, god, miss you—I miss everything I haven't even seen yet—I miss your lips, every night, why can't I be drowning right now, fuck—"I did have some work to do…but I guess I could take my work to the library. All right, I will join you. Only because I don’t want to cause you any more emotional stress."
"Lex." Clark grinned, the blush lightening, but his eyes sparkled and he looked very obviously pleased. How, Lex wondered could Clark not really seem to know how easy it was for him to manipulate Lex? Innocence, Lex figured. Innocence and inexperience. Good for Clark, he thought, and good for his parents that they were able to give a kid who looked like Clark a childhood…by Clark's age, he thought, there wasn't much he hadn't been introduced to.
******
Clark was spread out on the couch, reading, his face a mask of serious concentration. Lex sneaked looks from time to time, watching Clark blink, lick his lips, twist a few strands of hair around his finger, press his thumb against his lower lip as he muttered, "oh, okay…" Lex watched the thick, pink flesh give against the pressure and flush red, glisten a little with saliva as his tongue swept out to lick the reddened spot….
Lex jerked his eyes away when Clark turned to grab a notebook off the table. He caught the little motion and looked pleased.
"Lex, how's your homework going?" he smiled, and Lex laughed back.
"Good, Clark. You?"
Clark yawned. "I'm tired—no, hungry. Or maybe thirsty. Um…a little bit of both?" and his cheeks went a little pink, as though admitting such a thing was embarrassing. Lex laughed softly, shut down the laptop. He waved the wrist sporting the Napoleon watch.
"Look, miraculously it's break time." He came around the couch and dropped down next to Clark. "How about we take care of all your problems—well, except the being tired. Nothing I can do about that."
Clark stretched, and looked at Lex from the corner of his eye. He yawned and said, "At home, I'd just take my shoes off and lay all over the couch, until Dad kicks me off."
"Well by all means, my long-legged friend, lay out. No one's going to kick you off my couch." Lex lifted an eyebrow and Clark grinned, toed off his shoes and flexed his toes with a little moan. He lifted each leg, bent each at the knee and even Lex could hear his joints pop.
Lex winced. "Clark—your joints sound like an old man's."
He nodded. "Mom says it's growing pains, I guess. It's not…painful, it's just…odd." Clark looked like he had no words to describe what he was feeling—he looked confused.
"Really? You're rather older to be bothered with growing pains…"
Clark just shrugged, smiled, and then winced a little, eyes wide and mesmerizing….
"When I was younger, much younger than you, I went through this intense growth spurt--" Lex grimaced, Clark twinned his expression, wincing in sympathy, "--and shot up from a chubby twelve year old to a rather lanky thirteen. My father used to have a chauffer who was…trained in martial arts. He knew a lot about aching joints. Anyway," Lex continued, "he helped when it hurt really bad…and my dad insisted the pain was all in my mind."
For a moment Clark looked furious, but then, looked absolutely pathetic. "My knees and ankles ache. Like, all the time."
"Then you're in luck." Lex cracked his fingers in an exaggerated show of readiness. "Prop those legs up on the couch, my boy. I'll set things to right."
Clark laughed, swung his legs up and ended with his legs covering the whole couch, plus Lex's knees.
Lex smiled, completely ignoring the horrified voice in his head shouting he's got his underage legs in your lap! He's touching you, you're molesting his innocent ankles—the sane part of his brain calmly pointed out Clark's legs were firmly and safely across his knees, not touching any problematic parts whatsoever…and in fact his toes were wedged against the arm of the couch. Safely, innocently and there was no reason to be gibbering internally at all.
Clark whuffed in relief. "It's just feels good to get my feet up. It's like—this weird pressure, like my bones are trying to stretch or something," he snorted. "Where's the remote?"
Lex jerked his chin at the table. "Dish, next to the magazines—" and Clark leaned over and snagged it.
"Got it!"
Lex nodded and smiled. "Oh good." He tried to move his body using the power of his mind, just—if he could just shrink his flesh a bit so that Clark's (warm) legs weren't making contact with his lap quite so firmly. "Ah, you'll have to sit upright so I can get to your ankles—you really did have growth spurt. spurt. oh god… You're not going to fit this couch if you don’t stop growing." Lex grinned and melted in relief inside—Clark was wholly absorbed in the TV, and missing the flush that swept Lex from his neck up.
"Okay," Lex said, "I'll just…" he started kneading and manipulating Clark's ankles, felt a faint pop under his fingers and Clark looked at him in surprise.
"Wow, that—that feels *good*!"
"Well, yes, it's supposed to," Lex smiled, and kept working. The remote sagged in Clark's hand as he watched Lex work, groaning faintly when the tugging and kneading felt especially good. Lex fought blushing, fought shifting. Licked his Sahara-dry lips.
"Oh wow," Clark breathed, and it was low, throaty, and definitely made Lex's dick perk up and ask, he…llo? Should I be involved here?
"Can you do my knees too?" Clark asked. He seemed fascinated by Lex's fingers.
"Sure, sure I can." He squeezed and rubbed up Clark's calves, and wondered how much this was helping Clark, but Clark seemed to think it was working quite well. His eyes were at half-mast, and he kept making these tiny little satisfied noises and Lex was well on his way to a hard-on. move, move, you idiot, move before… Lex's long fingers wrapped around one of Clark's knees and probed.
"Yow—I think, I think you need to massage right there," Clark breathed and Lex nodded, his thumb pushing deep into the back of Clark's knee... He refused to think just how much better this would be with less denim and wool between the two of them.
"Oh—oh—that's—that's nice," Clark stuttered and his leg jerked. Definitely his legs, not his hips, Lex thought, because that would be…Lex wondered if he could convince Clark he needed a pillow under his legs to make the massage better—it would at least cover his all-together too damn happy dick.
And Clark shifted again. Made contact.
Lex was torn. He desperately wanted to moan. And get up, and walk out of the room, keep walking. He found the television infinitely fascinating. There was a flutter of sensation on his wrist, he looked down…Clark's fingers were wrapped around his wrist. He slowly pulled Lex's wrist off his knee—Lex swallowed, hard, he was pretty sure Clark heard him swallow. Clark was staring at him, half-bold, half scared. Slowly, giving Lex every opportunity to run…he gently tugged on Lex's hand, until it was resting over the hot rise of his erection. Clark was hard. He blinked rapidly when Lex's hand settled over him, said, "Oh," when Lex tightened. His eyes rolled back when Lex pressed down and started to rub. Lex watched the pink tip of Clark's tongue slide out between his teeth. He found the head of Clark's dick, pressed there until Clark's hips were definitely moving and the denim was beginning to darken. "…Clark?"
Clark's only answer was a moan. Lex decided to throw caution and common sense to the wind, and eased Clark's zipper down, slowly, and quietly as he could—not sneaking, just—not wanting to break the mood. When his finger slipped past the fabric, and touched skin, hot and silky and Clark…it topped any fantasy he'd ever had. The boy was rigid as iron, and when Lex squeezed a little, his dick jumped, thumped against Lex's palm. Clark's eyes were closed, his head tilted back and he was making a sound that was the hottest thing Lex had ever heard. His fingertips rode lightly up and down Clark's shaft and his own erection was begging for attention—and suddenly his brains came back from their brief vacation in stupidity. He jerked his hand away.
"Shit! God—Clark, we can't. I can't--won't."
"Why not? You like me, right? I mean, I like you. I'm not asking for, for…more," he muttered, his voice heavy and a pout growing. "Or maybe I'm not good enough, not like Metropolis guys…"
Lex groaned. "Clark, don’t get mad at me because I don’t want to go to jail."
"But I'm legal—almost. Come on Lex, my birthday's so close, it doesn't matter—"
"*Almost*, Clark. Almost is the line that defines the incarcerated from the free. If we did anything—I couldn’t hide it—could you? From your parents, your friends? And it's not really age Clark, it's experience. My six years of experience compared to your…?"
"None," Clark pouted. "You know that. You know…" Clark suddenly became fascinated by his knees, and muttered," You know me better than most."
"And…we can't because your parents would be disappointed in the both of us—and I don’t want that, do you?"like Jonathan wouldn't gut you in a heartbeat for defiling his son…
"No…I guess not." Suddenly Clark's innocent face went all sly, wicked in a way Lex didn’t think he was capable of...fuck, that was now his favorite expression.
"What if we…just looked? And…did it ourselves?"
Lex felt a jagged bolt of lightning push right though him, his dick jerked, hard. "Are you," Lex winced and cursed inwardly when his throat went painfully dry mid-word. "Do you mean. Masturbation?"
Clark blushed fire red and rolled his eyes. "Gosh! Yes…you sound like health class." And then his momentary flash of sarcasm faded. "Or…is that dumb? It's stupid, right? I know you—"
Lex closed his eyes and experienced the interesting sensation of almost coming in his pants, something he hadn't done since he was fourteen. Simple jerking off with company was also something he hadn't done since then…along with kissing for hours, and fumbling towards discovery with someone he kind of liked. Sex nowadays was pretty much cut and dried and very, very, good because his set didn't do anything by half measures but this…"God Clark, yeah…we can do that."
Clark was still red, his lips were wet, and he was breathing hard…he worked open the button on his jeans, and pulled the zipper down…the sound of the teeth disengaging seemed to echo in the room. Lex's eyes were locked on Clark's hand. The anticipation was almost a physical pain. He laid his palm over his own erection, and Clark quirked a quick shy smile. "You too, Lex."
Lex shook his head. He didn’t want anything to distract him from this moment, but the heat of his own dick radiating against his palm made him feel weak, and needy. He undid the fastening on his trousers, let them slip open. He palmed himself again. The silk over his erection slid with the movement of his hand. It was burning. "Clark…look what you're doing to me," he whispered so softly he wasn't sure he actually spoke. A black spot bloomed on the steel gray silk, growing as precome was wicked up through the material.
Clark's eyes locked on Lex's mouth, his pupils went wide, black nearly swallowing the ocean green …Clark's own mouth parted, his breath came even harder. "Lex, that's…that makes me feel…" he grimaced, opened his mouth wider on a faint gasp. His hips rose, and he pushed his jeans and ugly cotton briefs right down under his ass, freeing the most beautiful dick Lex had ever seen…no small accomplishment, he thought—he'd seen many. He drank in the sight of Clark's damp cheeks flushing a deeper red, his lips swelling a deeper pink, the shy smile he offered Lex, before his hand rose along the thick length, squeezing drops of precome from the deep rose tip—
Lex was swept with the oddest feeling of regret, that this wasn't his first time. A sudden ice-cold thought speared him, and an unpleasant spark grew in his chest, and he asked. "Clark, have you done this with anyone, before?"
Clark laughed softly, a weak huff of air. "Lex—no." He smiled at Lex, shook his head, "No," he repeated. "Never…ah…" he sighed, and his hips arched up, precome laced his fingers, dripped in slow steady strings to his hard stomach. Lex eased his own dick from the confines of his boxers and started matching Clark stroke for stroke. It was so—high school, so juvenile, no finesse, no technique—and it was going to make him come way too soon.
Clark's hand moved faster, his eyes avid on Lex. "Your cock—" he stopped and blushed impossibly harder—"is—it's beautiful," he breathed out and his eyelids dropped, and his dick jerked, spat precome.
God! Lex felt his checks flush, felt the flush work down his neck and his chest. His hand tightened, he moved rougher, faster, and his balls tightened. He was going to come. He had no control, none, and he doubted he could hold off much longer…he really needed to come.
Clark was panting louder; the obscene liquid squelch of his hand flying over his erection was driving both of them to the edge. Lex wanted, burned--wanted so much he was faint--to touch Clark. His mouth watered thinking of sinking down on Clark's dick, tasting that, feeling that hardness, all that velvet skin, choking himself on it, driving it in to his throat until he gagged—Lex arched and came, felt it from his ass to his heart, felt like he was shooting liquid fire….
"Oh my-- Lex—"
Clark worked his mouth, but nothing came out. He stared—at Lex's come, spattered across his jean covered knees, and dripping from the back of his hand, mixing with his pre-come and sweat, and, and Lex was unstrung, flopped against the couch, muzzily thinking, hunh, towels, we should have had towels. His dick gave another painful jerk at the sight of his come sliding in between Clark's knuckles and mixing with the silvery strands of precome streaming down his shaft. "Um, sorry, I didn't—"
Clark moaned, a low sound muffled in his chest, curled suddenly over his flying fist, and grunted, came. Pearly fluid flew up, splattered his chin, streaked his cheek, his lips…he was silent, his mouth pressed tight, eyes screwed violently shut.
Lex moaned himself, and wished he could come again.
Clark dropped back against the arm of the couch and sighed…"Oh. Oh man. Oh wow, wow…"
"Yeah." Lex gasped out a weak laugh. "Yeah."
He took off his shirt, pulled off his undershirt off too, and wiped himself down with it as best he could before handing it to Clark. Clark was so red there was no way he could blush harder, but Lex knew that the second he touched Clark's hand, Clark flushed. He kept his eyes down, and wiped carefully, cleaning off his face, his stomach, and was about to wipe off his hands when Lex grabbed the hand smeared with their come, and thoroughly, slowly, licked it clean.
"Oh…wow…" Clark's eyes were big, and fixed on Lex's tongue dancing between his fingers, licking and sucking each one clean, until it tasted of nothing but skin. Clark stared at Lex as in shock. Lex preferred to think it was awe. Clark blinked. Definitely awe.
"Wow…" again. Clark pounced on Lex, drew him forward with his big hot hands, and kissed Lex—mauled Lex. Sucked and licked the taste of himself from Lex's mouth, his velvet hot tongue chasing it out of every crease of Lex's mouth, from the corners of his mouth, the fold of his lips and ended by working his teeth gently over the swell of Lex's now incredibly sensitive and swollen lips. It felt wonderful.
Clark reluctantly released him, and Lex sat back, fingers pressed to his lips, feeling…a little too damn happy for what had just happened. "Clark…"
"I know, I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have—but don’t tell me you didn’t like it.
"I can't. I'm not that good a liar."
"Good." Clark smiled. Blinked a few times, and barely managed to muffle a yawn. "Hey," he drawled, "Can you come sit over here by me?"
Lex would stab himself in the eye before he'd admit he loved cuddling, but right now, it was all he wanted. "Let me set the alarm, I don't want to sleep past your curfew."
"Poor Lex," Clark murmured sleepily, and gathered him in. "Stuck with an under age….friend," he finished weakly.
"Yeah, poor me," he said and curled himself around Clark. "Poor, poor me."
6-15-2009
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