~ The There Series ~

The There series was the first thing I wrote in any fandom, and was definitely a learning experience. I have not re-written this series, but left it as an example of my earliest writing. In this series, there are two versions of each fic - one written in Lex's point of view and one written in Clark's point of view. I hope you enjoy reading them!

Thanks so much for taking the time to visit this site and read my work.

 

 

~ Cover By Goss ~

 

~ Chapter III: There's No Hurry ~

 

Series: There

Pairing: Clark/Lex

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: None

Summary: Lex's POV. Companion piece to Lying There.

Author Notes: Profuse thanks to the Three Betateers - Kel (It worked tonight!), Kathryn (Save The Lex!) & La Casta (awww but not too awww). Thanks also to Riff - for reminding me that I do indeed have a pair - even if they're tucked away most of the time. And finally, thank God for the floor show.

Archiving: Lexslash, SSA

Disclaimer: They're mine. Psych!! Gotcha though, didn't I?

Feedback: Beat me, bruise me, make me bleed - your feedback is what I need.


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Thick, muggy air of the parking garage replaced by the stale, old air of the elevator in his mouth. Clark's leaning back against the metal wall, arms crossed, one leg jutted out for balance and Lex's eyes follow a crease in his jeans up to the fold on his thigh.

Jeans do not do that body justice. Have to get him in something else.

"So we're staying in tonight, right Lex?"

"If that's what you want."

"That's what I want."

He'd love to show Clark off. He'd introduce him to his old dusk-to-dawn crowd and they could walk the streets of Metropolis under the cover of night. But he can tell Clark's still uncomfortable being out - with him - in the city.

"You know, we are going to have to go out eventually, Clark."

"We can go out tomorrow night, Lex. Tonight I want to be in. With you."

And when he puts it that way, it doesn`t sound so bad.

"Okay. But I'm warning you. Tomorrow night we hit the streets. And you`re wearing something other than flannel."

"Very funny. I'm not wearing flannel today."

"It's summer Clark. If you were wearing flannel today, I'd have your head examined."

"Which one?"

He always goes for the cheap jokes. The mind-in-the-gutter, guaranteed-laugh-getting ones. So Lex forces a little laugh and bumps his shoulder into Clark's.

"Filthy mind."

A couple floors' worth of silence. Not awkward really, just a pause because - well, because they can just be silent together.

Clark's arm touching his, hand grazing Lex`s thigh. Strange having someone always in his personal space like this. Not something he thinks he'll ever really get used to.

The doors open into the penthouse and he breathes deeply. Clean air is really underrated. Living in Smallville has really spoiled his lungs for city air. So many unpleasant smells here, all crowding on top of each other, making him nauseous.

Throws his keys on the table by the door - old habit. It's a good one though - he'll know where they are when it's time to leave. Jacket off and over the back of the couch. Clark's peeling off his windbreaker, hanging it on a chair, kicking off his shoes and scooting them under it. They meet in front of the couch, Clark stepping closer now than he used to, forcing Lex to tilt his chin up just a little as they talk.

"It's been a good day Lex."

"It has. But it could've been better."

"No. I had a really good time."

"Liar."

"I was with you, Lex; I had a good time."

"My father-"

"Don't worry about it Lex. He's still pissed about the buyout attempt. We shouldn't have gone to see him. It was my fault."

"Nothing about that situation could possibly be your fault, Clark." Clark starts to say something about the fact that it was his idea to go to Luthor Corp in the first place and Lex stops his mouth with a kiss.

"So what do you want to do tomorrow Lex?"

"I thought maybe the science museum. Don't look at me like that Clark. It's really very interesting - and they have an exhibit on the meteor shower."

"Like I haven't heard enough about that in the last 13 years. You know, we should really go see Chloe while we`re here."

"You can go to the Planet and visit her there."

" I can go? What about you - aren't you coming too?"

"I don't go to the Planet, Clark. I have enough of their hounds tailing me that if I want something from them, I can just turn around and ask. One of them will hear me."

"But this is Chloe. And she'd really like to see you. Just think, the Lex Luthor, visiting a lowly intern at the Planet. She'd eat it up."

He's right, she would. And he really kind of owes her - the whole being thrown through a window thing was probably more his fault than he admitted. Not enough security in the mansion yet and all that. He'd gotten her the best medical care and had Nell put together a bouquet of flowers, but that was a sterile, impersonal kind of apology.

"Alright Clark, I'll go. But no interviews. And - let`s go on Monday. Give me time to prepare."

Hands on his chest, just casually touching.

"Because deep down you know you want her to interview you?"

"No. Because Chloe`s a little - abrasive - and I seriously doubt the Planet`s pseudo-drill sergeants have beaten that out of her. If anything, they`ve made it worse by now. Do you know what she`s going to do when she see us together?"

"She'll know right away, huh?"

"She will, and she'll have questions for us."

"I know."

A finger hooks into his belt loop, pulling him closer, close enough for Clark to lean down and kiss the V of skin at his open collar.

"You'll have to tell her that it`s not up for discussion."

Kisses moving over his collarbone, over to the bend in his shoulder. Words muffled against his skin.

"I can do that. I`ll point out that if it was her with me, she wouldn`t want me telling you all the details."

And that thought is just not one he wants in his head. Especially when Clark's nibbling his earlobe.

"Right, Clark. Just be ready."

A quick move and they're on the couch, his hands tugging Clark's shirt over his head, Clark's hands busy with his buttons.

"I wonder if she has a tack-board of Weird at the planet yet."

He always wondered what went through that mind when Clark was kissing him. Now he knows. Tack-board of Weird. It's somehow fitting.

"Can we stop talking about Chloe now, Clark? Please?"

"Uh-huh."

His belt undone, pants being yanked down, off his legs. Clark's jeans unfastened, - tight used to be good but now it's just - well - annoying, pulled down, kicked off onto the rug under the table.

"We're getting pretty good at that, huh?"

He can't do anything but smile at that. So young.

He pushes Clark back on the couch and they're back where they started last night. Where they started. Legs a tangled pile punctuated by feet. Hips to hips, the not-moving unbearable.

He waits for Clark though - someday he won't. But for now, he waits.

Clark never keeps him waiting long. It's not in Clark's nature to tease - not yet anyway. Rubbing against him with awkward, too-big movements. Desperation can cause that.

He can't hold Clark still, wouldn't if he could. So he lays down on him, mouth to his shoulder, his collarbone, the hollow at the base of his throat, his chin. His mouth.

And Clark's eyes are squeezed shut. He's already moaning, already hissing out "fuck" and "God" and it's way too early for that; they just started.

"Clark? Look at me, Clark."

Blue eyes locking on his but the moans and rubbing aren't stopping.

"You doing okay?" Stupid question, but how do you not sound stupid asking that when you`re grinding against someone?

"Yeah just - God - just been - wanting this all day. And I don't think I can wait. Not - fuck - not long anyway."

"What do you want Clark?"

More pressure, faster pace, Clark's eyes closed again.

"This - just. This."

"You don't want my mouth?"

And just like that, his chest is splattered wtih misspent youth. He can't help but laugh, just a little.

"Sorry. I-"

His mouth covers Clark`s, catching the words and turning them into a sweet moan.

"It's fine, Clark. Really. We kind of skipped the making-out-in-the-parked-car stage, didn't we? Maybe we should go back to that more often."

"Really? You'd like that?"

"Sure. And I have plenty of parked cars to choose from."

He runs a hand over his own chest, then Clark's, fingers sliding in the wetness on both.

"God."

Clark pushes Lex up, scoots out from under him, nudges his shoulder a little.

"Turn over Lex."

He's too hard to argue.

"You want my mouth." Clark's telling him.

"I do, do I?"

"You always do, Lex. I see you watching it. Licking your lips whenever I lick mine. You did that three times already today."

It's embarrassing - he didn`t even realize he'd done that- but Jesus, good to know Clark's paying attention to detail.

"Did I?"

"Uh-huh."

That's all he's going to get out of Clark with his mouth full and busy like that. But the silence so quiet that it's distracting him. From that mouth.

"Oh God, Clark. I do. I love that mouth."

A slip of Clark's tongue on the tip, down the vein.

"I could live in it. I could kiss it - fuck it - all day. Oh fuck."

A new rhythm, deep and deep and shallow.

"I could just watch you - your mouth. Moving, talking, eating."

Clark's hand wrapped around the base, a little tight, steadying him when that mouth moves off. And back on.

"Sucking. Every - God - every time you open it I want in. I want - fuck - I want it around me, I want it warm and wet and - Jesus - deep."

And he gets it - deep - and dares a look at the source of the drowning.

Eyes, closed, lips red but a paler shade than usual, from the pressure against them. It's like watching a movie - only infinitely better because he's feeling it too.

He doesn't mean to shudder, doesn't mean to moan that loud.

"Fuck, Clark. Suck me. Jesus. I want you to-"

Before he can think the next word, Clark's sucking - hard. It's like a whirlpool, pulling him down, closer to orgasm. And with every stroke of those lips, he knows there's no use fighting against the current.

That mouth replacing his oxygen, his blood, his brain.

And he spirals out of himself, down Clark`s throat.


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Cleaned up, curled up, back on the couch, Clark's looking up at him, head on a pillow on Lex's lap. Probably best to keep some sort of barrier there, even if it is just cotton and fabric.

Both of them are shirtless, Clark in his boxers, Lex back in his pants and even this much skin is making him a little crazy. Even after their make-out session, even after the time apart while Clark washed up, he knows he could be ready again in a matter of seconds. Clark's just that tempting.

He takes a deep breath - catching Clark's scent. A little sweat, a little lingering musk of sex and - Drakkar? God, that is just cruel.

"Clark are you wearing Drakkar?"

"Yeah - I saw it on your dresser when I went to change. I know how much you like it - you don`t mind, do you Lex?"

He lays his head back on the couch and closes his eyes.

"Jesus Clark. You're trying to kill me."

"Well, the French do call orgasms the `little death.'"

"So you are trying to kill me?"

"In a way. Technically though, we've both already died twice today."

He raises his head and looks back down at Clark, smiling up from his lap.

"So we have."

He's comfortable here; an arm across Clark's chest, fingers drawing circles lightly over the soft skin on Clark's stomach.

"You keep that up and you really are going to need a coffin, Lex."

"I'm sure I can find one somewhere in Metropolis."

He slides his hand slowly up Clark's chest, over his cheek, through the too-long curls on his head.

"Oh God, that feels good. Mom always rubs my head when I have a headache, but it doesn't feel like that."

"Well, I'm not your mother, Clark."

"Thank God."

The image of Martha rubbing Clark's head is overwhelming. After he lost his hair, his mother didn't - couldn't - do that to him anymore. But he remembers what it felt like.

He leans down, kisses Clark on the forehead and gives him a little push up.

"Want something to drink Clark?"

"Water'd be great." Clark sits up, rubbing his eyes.

"One water, coming up."

In the kitchen, he takes his time digging through the fridge. It's not that he doesn't want to be near Clark, but it's been almost 24 hours since he was alone and he's feeling it.

He just needs a minute to think without distractions, pleasant though they may be. Having Clark at the penthouse with him is infinitely better than being alone, and really, he's glad for the company. He's just not used to it.

The penthouse seems too small, too confining tonight. He's already missing the vaulted ceilings and space of the mansion.

He pulls the bottles out of the fridge and leans back on the island, rolls his shoulders. He's been a little tense all day - since they left Luthor Corp after their meeting with Lionel. Lionel's plotting something, he's sure of it. Then again, it would be a fucking miracle if he wasn`t plotting something, wouldn`t it?

His shirt snags on the cap of one bottle as he holds it in the crook of his arm, twisting the top off the other one.

Lionel could just be making empty threats. He's been known to do that on occasion. But Lex would put money on the bet that he's not teasing on this occasion. Lex knows him too well - he won't let this go. Won't let Lex just have this.

Lex takes a long drink from his water and stretches his neck from side to side. Maybe he's looking at this all wrong. Maybe his mind is just working overtime here. Maybe he *doesn't* need a break from the distractions. And he's got Clark here, doing a very good job of keeping his mind off Lionel. So he heads back to the living room, a bottle in each hand.

Clark's sitting - leaning forward - on the couch, flipping channels.

Fuck - it must say something about him when relinquishing control of the remote is this hard. Clark flips to the cartoon channel and Lex wills Clark to change to another station. It works. Now they're watching - what is that?

Handing a water to Clark, he motions at the TV with his own blue bottle. "What's this, Clark?"

"Oh - this is TLC. I was just checking to see if Trading Spaces is on. But this is A Baby Story."

A woman, panting. People counting one to ten over and over. A loud, pain-filled moan.

"Um Clark?"

"I'm right there with you, Lex."

He changes the channel again. Some monkeys are sitting in trees, wide-eyed and munching on leaves.

"There's nothing on."

"Well, it couldn't hurt to check the NASDAQ, Clark."

"No, Lex. No working. You promised."

"This isn't work Clark, it's money. CNN - channel 40. Just for a minute, okay?"

"Yeah okay. But if your stocks fell, don't take it out on me."

He's already trying to block out Wolf Blitzer's voice as he reads the ticker tape at the bottom of the screen.

"Want me to mute it?"

Lex nods at Clark but keeps staring at the screen - smiling now that he's seen his largest investment is up a quarter today.

"Are you hungry yet Lex? I mean, Lunch was great but it was hours ago and kind of - "

"Meager. I know. I forgot how little they actually put on plates at those places now. We can order something in if you want to. You said something about pizza this morning, didn`t you?"

"Yeah. Pizza - that okay with you?"

"I'll order something else, but sure. Why don't you get the movie ready and I'll go call."

"Okay. Chaplin's okay with you, right Lex?"

When pigs fly. And right about now, somewhere in Smallville, a pig is flying. Probably high on meteor rock dust. Because Lex wouldn't say no to anything Clark asked him tonight.

"Yes, Clark. You want pepperoni, right?" It wasn't the first time he'd seen Clark eat pizza. Pepperoni always seemed to work its way onto every slice Clark ate.

Clark's nodding. "And double cheese. Oh, and some wings?"

Wings? Oh, wings. Right.

Back to the kitchen, lifts the cordless off the base, flips through the phone book. He's trying to decide between Thai and French when the phone rings in his hand, startling him into dropping it. Fuck.

He picks it up, watches the letters and numbers tick across the display - Hawaii area code.

"Lex Luthor."

"Lex, it's Jonathan. How are you?"

You mean, how's Clark?

Well, he's not a virgin anymore. Right, I got him laid. Oh, and incidentally, it was me. I fucked him. Not some high school girl or a hooker. Me. Right. And he liked it. A lot. What's that? Really? A shotgun? Messy, but fine - if you insist. Oh, and in case you`re wondering, it was worth it.

Calling to check up on Clark. To make sure Lex hasn't corrupted their son yet. It's okay though - he'd call too if he was in their shoes.

"Good, Mr. Kent. We're about to order pizza. How's the vacation going?"

"Really great, Lex. Martha wanted to call and-"

"Check on Clark? No problem - let me get him for you."

Clark's already turned around on the couch, smiling and holding his hand out for the phone.

"Hey dad! How's Hawaii? ...Oh yeah, we're having a great time ... No, we're staying in and watching a movie..."

Lex goes to the couch where he tossed his jacket, fishes his cell out of the left pocket, tucks the yellow pages under his arm and takes them into the bedroom. Orders his first since it'll take longer. Thai, he decides. Lamb with peanut sauce on the side. Light, spicy - perfect. Then he dials the closest pizza parlor and orders Clark's pepperoni and extra cheese. And wings. Hot or mild? Um, shit.

"Hey Clark! Hot or mild?" His voice echoes against the walls of the bedroom.

"Hot Lex. And can you ask for some peppers too?" Clark's voice cuts through the silence, then muffles again as he goes back to the conversation with his parents.

So, hot. And yes, they have peppers. A whole jar? They can do that.

Lex folds down the corner of the page in the phone book. They'll need this number again before the end of Clark's visit, he's sure.

He tosses the book on the bed, strips off his pants and underwear and flops down beside the phone book, closing his eyes.

Half an hour until the pizza arrives and he could just lay here, naked, eyes closed, just feeling the bed beneath him. Not a nap- not really. Just resting.

But Clark is saying goodbye to his parents in the next room. So he sits up, sighs and goes to the closet. Which one? Oh right - second drawer down. He digs down until he finds a pair of loose black cotton boxers and a dark gray t-shirt. Comfort is the objective.

Slips the boxers on, adjusts himself. And hears a - giggle?- from somewhere behind him. Clark's in the doorway, hand covering his mouth like a little schoolgirl, eyes smiling.

"Lex Luthor owns something other than silk underwear?"

"You'd be surprised Clark." It's not like he's Hugh Hefner for God's sake.

"I already am."

Lex knows that look - has given that look to so many people. But he'd be willing to bet that this is the first time Clark's given it to anyone. It's a `come hither' look. So Lex drops the shirt onto the bed and goes to him.

Clark's hands on his neck, thumbs rough against his jaw, rubbing while they kiss. So much better now. Like Clark's really starting to get the hang of it. Like he's learning to match Lex and meeting him halfway. Getting to know his mouth, his lips. Getting - comfortable.

His boxers are getting tighter and he leans toward Clark, half trying to hide it, half hoping Clark will notice. Control is impossible when it comes to Clark, a problem he's never run into before. He's never (well, once) lost control really. But he doesn't mind so much that Clark does this to him.

But - shit - dinner's on its way and there's not time to really - take this anywhere, so he breaks the kiss and unhands Clark.

He doesn't want Clark to get the wrong idea, so he smiles up at him and mentions food. That usually does the trick.

"Come on, Clark. Let's go find something to watch while we wait for the food." Clark's trailing after him, smiling.

In the living room, Clark thumbs through the entertainment center drawer, and tells him that he's found "The Kid." It's apparently Clark's favorite Chaplin movie, even better than "The Gold Rush," though he can't imagine why Clark thinks that. He says as much and Clark just rolls his eyes and flips through more tapes.

"Lex, they're all here. You have every single Chaplin movie. Some of these are bootleg copies - how'd you get those?"

"I have no idea Clark - probably some overly eager personal assistant of Dad's went overboard filling the video list. I've only watched a few of those though - any in there you think I should see?"

"You should see all of them. How can you not have watched them, Lex?"

"Come on, you can't expect me to know the complete works of Charlie Chaplin. Nietzsche, yes. Shakespeare, yes. But Charlie Chaplin? No. Not exactly material in the Luthor handbook."

Clark's shaking his head in disbelief.

"We should have a marathon. I can pick out all the best ones and we can pop popcorn and curl up on the couch and laugh until our faces hurt."

Is Clark forgetting who he's talking to?

"A marathon?"

"Yeah - why not?"

"How many reasons do you want, Clark?" Not to rain on his parade, but...

"Really Lex, it'd be fun."

"Clark. No. I have other things I want to do in the next three weeks. We can - run the Chaplin marathon some other time. Maybe when we're too old and gray to care that there aren't any words or plots."

"Fine. But this one's okay for tonight, right? `The Kid?' You said-," Lex considers drawing this out, just so he can hear him beg a little bit longer.

"I know, and yes, this one's fine for tonight." Who's he kidding? They could watch `Texas Chainsaw Massacre' and Lex wouldn't complain. Much.

"Good. How much longer 'til the pizza's here?"

A quick look at Napoleon's face. "About 10 minutes I guess."

"Did they have the peppers?"

"Of course. I got you a jar of them."

"A whole jar? Wow - thanks."

Clark stares at him for a second and then his face changes. He turns away from Lex, puts the tape in the VCR. They're talking like they always have - like the old friends Lex has always felt like they were, even in the beginning. But now Clark's looking at his socked feet and that's his cue (one of them anyway), so he moves.

Hands on Clark's arms, head cocked to the side just a little, looking up at Clark's face, catching his eyes, asking.

"You okay, Clark?"

"Yeah. Just feeling a little weird." Weird as in uncomfortable, Lex gathers.

"Thinking about anything in particular?"

"Kind of."

That's a little give, and Lex will take it.

"What is it?"

"It's - something I want to tell you."

Clark's staring at the floorboards like there are hundred-dollar bills taped to them and even a hand on his face isn't peeling his eyes away. So it must be something either important or embarrassing. Embarrassing for a sixteen-year old, newly non-virgin anyway.

"Clark, I'm still me, no matter - how close we've been. You can still tell me anything. That hasn't changed."

"I know. This is just something really big."

Lex hesitates before he says anything - has to choose his words carefully here. `Something big' usually means someone is going to declare their feelings. And he's in no mood to try to explain to Clark why he can't accept that yet. Why he can't say it back.

"Don't feel like you have to tell me tonight, Clark."

"I've wanted to tell you for months, Lex. I want to tell you now, but- but it might change things between us and I don`t want-"

His finger stops Clark's lips from moving.

"Shh. Clark, listen to me. When you're ready. There's no hurr-"

{{Buzz}}

"Shit. That's the pizza. Just- just wait here, Clark."

He doesn't speak into the intercom on the wall, just buzzes the guy up after checking the monitor to make sure it's not - God - his father or some other equally unwanted visitor.

Lex leans back on the wall to wait for the kid to ride the elevator up. Looking across the foyer at his reflection in the oversized, gilded mirror he runs his eyes over himself. He looks - young - and oddly flushed. Like he's been working out or in the sun too long.

The kid's knocking on the door, startling Lex out of his thoughts. He answers it with a fifty in his hand, takes the pizza and the bag of sundries and hands the bill to the kid, who automatically pulls out a wallet and starts counting change.

"Keep it." Lex nods at the boy's stunned face.

"Thank you, Mr. Luthor. Call us if you need anything else."

"Thanks." Kicking the door shut behind him, he manages to balance the bag on the box all the way to the living room where Clark moves quickly to lighten his load. While Clark attacks the bag, Lex sets the pizza on the dining table and opens the box.

"We can just eat on the couch tonight if you want. If that`s all right."

"Sure."

This'll be interesting. Lex has never eaten on the couch. Not even a little.

"God this smells good Lex. Can you please get me a plate?" Clark's already got his hands on a slice and is shoveling it in when Lex gets back from the kitchen.

"Good?"

"Mmmm. {{swallows}} Hey Lex, about that thing I want to tell you-"

He still sounds unsure, and Lex wants to give him an out.

"Clark, please. Just think about it for another day or two. Whatever it is can wait. Let's just be together tonight. No big discussions, no getting dressed or going out. Just us, here, together."

Clark's nodding his agreement with a full mouth and wiping his hand on his boxers, forgetting the napkin under his plate. But he stops mid-chew and crinkles his eyebrows.

"Oh shit. Lex I'm sorry. Do you want some?"

He tries not to look too amused. "No thanks, Clark. Mine'll be here in a few minutes."

Clark moves to put the half-eaten piece down on the plate. "Sorry Lex - I should've waited." So polite - so Clark. The thought hadn't even occurred to Lex.

"No, Clark - really. Go ahead. Mine won't be here for awhile anyway."

Besides, this is good entertainment. Clark's got a glob of tomato sauce on his chin and it's all he can do to keep himself from leaning down and just licking it off.

"The movie's in whenever you want to start it." Clark picks his slice back up and absently wipes off the glob with the back of his hand, then sucks it clean. God, does he know what he looks like? Right. This is Clark. He has no clue what he's doing to Lex.

What was he saying? About the movie? Right, movie. So where's the remote? Couch - table - entertainment center - it's not there. He looks back at Clark, who's pointing to the floor, smiling.

"Too much work to walk to the VCR, huh Lex?" Shit.

The grin Clark shoots him makes up for the crack in abundance though. So he's forgiven.

"What'd you order anyway Lex?"

He retrieves the remote, hits PLAY and tosses it onto the coffee table. He sits back down on the couch - too far away from Clark. Like they're two friends in a movie theatre, asserting their heterosexuality with the empty seat between them.

But before he can push himself up and move closer, Clark is already jumping up and flopping down right next to him. Pizza crust landing onto the lid of the box and a neat pop as the pepper jar opens.

"Thai. Lamb." And he reaches back to thump Clark on the back when he chokes on a slice of jalapeno.

When Clark`s recovered, emptied his blue bottle down his throat, he turns back to Lex, wiping his eyes with a napkin.

"Lamb? That's not something you have delivered, Lex. That's something you have served to you on a platter."

"This place puts it on kabobs and packs cups of peanut sauce with it so you can dip it. Like, say - steak and A-1?" And that's why Lex is the master of barbs. He knows Clark too well.

"Lex, they had it in the restaurant, didn't they? That means I wasn't the first to ask for it!" Clark's adorably defensive; like he's worried that he actually offended Lex.

"It's okay, Clark. Really. They didn't even blink when you asked for it. Well, not much anyway. And you like things the way you like them. And you just wanted it your way. That`s admirable."

Clark smiles and turns his attention to the movie. He's bouncing a foot along with the tune - a peppy number and the credits aren't even finished yet, but Clark's already enjoying it - he can tell.

He wraps his arm around Clark's shoulders and relaxes back into the couch. It's been a long time since Lex just did nothing for two hours. Then again, it's been a long time since he had the desire to.


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The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is snow. Not the cold, wet kind - the noisy, annoying kind. On the TV. The movie is over and he's trapped. The best kind of trapped.

A heavy young man pinning him down on the couch and his neck is the only part of him that has any complaint about it. Clark's body is so warm, bare chest on his, face tucked into his neck. Clark has one leg between his, and the other is bent up and laying heavily over his thigh. An arm dangling over the side of the couch, the other disappearing into the cushions somewhere down beside Lex.

Lex stretches his arm out, snags the remote off the coffee table, flicks the TV off and the room into dimness, a soft light coming from the lamp behind him. But he`s too - covered - to try and reach it.

"Mmmm"

"Shhh, Clark. Go back to sleep."

"I don't want to sleep."

"Yes you do; it's late Clark. The movie's over."

"But I didn`t see the end."

"It was a happy ending."

"You didn't see it either, did you Lex?"

Caught.

"No Clark, I didn't. I fell asleep too."

Even sleepy, the touch of Clark's body against his is arousing. Weight pressing him into the couch cushions, just a little too warm for comfort. Just a little slick with sweat everywhere that skin meets skin.

Clark peels his face off Lex's neck, their flesh sticking to each other like it doesn't want to let go - like it knows they're meant to be touching. Clark looks down at him, and Lex's eyes can't quite focus on him - he's too close. But definitely not too close.

The urge to move his hands from Clark's back to his face is almost painful, but he leaves them where they are. He's been letting Clark initiate everything so far, and now he realizes that he likes it that way. Likes knowing that these aren't pity-fucks. Likes knowing that Clark wants him enough to summon that kind of courage. Except it's getting harder and harder to just lay there while Clark examines him at close range.

"Your eyes change color Lex."

"What?"

"Yeah. With what you're wearing. And sometimes with your mood."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Yeah they do. And right now I can tell you exactly what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking, Clark?"

"You're thinking... that... you wish I'd move."

"No I'm not. I'm very comfortable right now." He tightens his arms around Clark, just to prove it.

"I didn't say how you wanted me to move."

Clark kisses his smile, then shifts down a little and goes to work on his neck.

"Mmm. That's a pretty neat party trick there, Kent. What else have you got?"

Clark lifts his head to answer and Lex decides not to ask any more questions.

"I can have sex three times in one day and never get tired of it."

"Three times, huh? That's pretty impressive. Where's your proof?"

"Well right now, it's against your right thigh. But I can move it if you want."

Lex has never smiled this much during foreplay.

"No, no. It's fine where it is."

"I didn't say how I would move it."

God, he walked right into that one, didn't he? At least Clark's making progress now. He's moving - rubs hard against Lex's thigh, body lifting then settling back down, lower down Lex`s body.

"I've created a monster."

A little laugh from somewhere close to his boxers.

"A sex monster? That's a little sick Lex."

Hot breath on his stomach. A wet circle around his navel.

"What would you call it Clark?"

Two fingers inside the elastic band at his waist.

"Hormones. The culmination of years of sexual repression. Being sixteen and horny. Take your pick."

A cool rush of air as Clark moves to kneel between his legs, starts to tug his shorts off.

"I pick sixteen and horny."

Legs awkwardly lifted by Clark, boxers off over his feet, tossed to the floor. Clark back between his legs, leaning down on his hands, hovering over Lex, arms on either side of Lex's chest.

"Why not hormones?"

Clark's licking his lips, deliberately slow.

"Too unpredictable."

That mouth - God. And he thinks Clark knows what he's doing now. Not teasing exactly - just... enticing.

"Uh-huh. And why not the release of years of sexual repression?"

"Fleeting. Sixteen lasts a whole year, Clark."

"I hadn't {wet mouth pressing to his chest} thought of it {quick kiss to his throat} that way."

"God Clark, what are trying to do here?"

Teeth on his shoulder, his chest, his stomach.

"If you don't know, Lex, I'm not going to tell you."

"I know what you're doing but {teeth gently biting his cock} - Christ!"

"Then why did you ask? Are you just trying to make me talk? You just want to watch my mouth again, don't you?"

No. Watching the mouth is not nearly as good as feeling the mouth. Teeth on the very top of his leg, biting harder this time.

"No, Clark. Don't let me - {teeth back on his cock, scraping lightly} God - interrupt you."

"You're not interrupting anything. I'm surprised you don't recognize this lesson by now Lex."

Lesson? {hand pushing his legs apart, teeth on the inside of his thigh, biting hard} Jesus - he needed to go back to high school if this is what classes are like now.

"Lesson?" That was not his voice. Lex would never sound like that. Unless someone was biting his cock just hard enough to make him sound like that - which someone is.

"Sexual repression, Lex. {closed-mouth kisses, chaste kisses - from the base of his cock to the tip} I'm giving you a lesson. Since I'm the expert."

"Mind telling me how long this lesson lasts?"

"Oh, don't worry. It's almost over."

Soft, smooth lips closing over his cock. Cushion of tongue and mouth surrounding him.

"Thank God."

~ FINIS ~

 

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