Married Sex

by Hope


For Thamiris


Clark pulled the silk boxers down just enough to free Lex's cock, just enough to swallow it in one slick glide. Lex twisted his fingers through Clark's hair, just enough to pull him closer, and Clark hummed, just enough to tease with deep, bass vibration. Lex tasted just clean enough, and felt just hot enough, and swelled just hard enough that Clark knew exactly when to squeeze his balls with just enough tension and pressure to make him come just hard enough to sleep afterwards.

Drifting himself, Clark swallowed again and asked, "Do you think we're in a rut?"

-

Pinning Clark's hands on either side of his head, Lex drove into him, his eyes closed tight, and brow etched with concentration and sweat. The lube warmed with friction; it turned sticky and sweet, which roughened Lex's long, hard drive into Clark's ass, but the couch- leather- squeaked when they shifted, genially protesting every slide, every push, every thrust. Lex cursed and pulled Clark down to an oriental rug that had absolutely nothing to say about the intrusion. Hands replaced, hips repositioned, Lex slid into Clark again, thrusting with words and cock, "If we were, what would you suggest?"

-

Slightly awkward, Clark clutched the showerhead and leaned his head back. It was easier to hide the blush if he stared at the ceiling. "C'mon, Lex..."

Spreading his hands on Clark's thighs, Lex trailed his tongue along the muscles, hot water washing away the vaguely earthy taste of Clark's skin, leaving only texture to tease his senses. "More than that, Clark."

"Do it. Suck me." Humid mist softened Clark's voice, the shower's roar scrubbing his demand clean.

Lex did, and considered whether a diluted extract of Kryptonite in whiskey would loosen Clark's tongue enough to sound natural while talking dirty.

-

"What am I wearing?" Clark glanced down at his everyday suit, then remembered. Inspired by facelessness, he switched the cellphone to the opposite hand and slipped inside the copy room. "Tight black jeans. Tight black tshirt."

A wicked smile evident in his voice, Lex prodded. "Why are you still wearing them?"

Clark slipped a hand down, stroking the tips of his fingers to tease the head of his cock. "Because if Lois catches me jerking off in the copy room, I'm in big trouble."

"Danger -and- phone sex." Lex's breath sounded thin, messily restrained. "More than I'd hoped for."

-

A stained glass window painted Clark's face, crimson streaks across his mouth, branding him shameless, blue across his eyes for shame. Thick, dark curls wound tight around Lex's fingers, and he pulled Clark's head back to expose his throat. Around Clark's throat, a dark band marked off territories- permitted, forbidden- and a slip of white made it pure. Biting at the stiff collar, Lex soaked up the shimmer in Clark's bare thighs as he slid another finger inside him, then curled them to offer a whimpering choir to the abandoned church loft.

"Forgive me, father, for I have sinned."

-

Straw flecks danced, golden motes in the beams of sunlight that penetrated the aging barn walls. Nothing had changed up here except the amount of dust, and Clark's willingness to defile his fortress of solitude. He sucked the head of Lex's cock- lazy, mouthing draws to fill his mouth with the taste of semen, but he forgot to breathe when Lex dug his fingers into his ass and pulled him down. Sometimes, when Clark went fast and hard, he could make -Lex- forget to breathe, too. Two mouths worked at once; they didn't come together, but it was close.

-

"Fuck, Lex, please!" Clark dug into the rough felt of the pool table, forcing himself not to collapse, even though all the strength had gone out of his knees. The maddening swirl of Lex's tongue rasped against his ass, darting in, then smoothing over, promising deeper, promising more.

Heat running fast through his veins, Lex licked again then slid up. Pressing his still-clothed cock against Clark's thigh, he pulled one of the more interesting souvenirs from his trip to Beijing from his pocket. Rimming and jade dildos, he noted, loosened Clark's tongue far more effectively than Kryptonite could.

-

Pushing Lex against the wall, Clark crashed into him. He abused his abilities to flick Lex's belt away, to rid himself of the Armani armor between his hand and Lex's dick, and drowned Lex's protests about being late, about being mussed, with his tongue. Fucking Lex's mouth with graceless hunger, Clark skipped sensuality and jacked him fast, until he had Lex thrashing and thrusting into his fist. Paying just enough attention to the next room, Clark guessed he had three homilies and one bad joke until the current mayor of Metropolis introduced the future mayorthe latter preferably wearing pants.

-

Most people didn't know that the couch in Lex's office folded out to a bed, but then again, Clark wasn't most people. He was allowed to push Lex onto his back, to curve his arms beneath him, to kiss him slowly and whisper soft endearments into his mouth. He was allowed to roam Lex's skin, long, smooth expanses that hid whimsical patches of freckles; he was invited to press into him with slow, incremental thrusts. High above the city they shared by day, they shared kisses and caresses, their bodies and breath, and secrets that most people didn't know.

-

Clark barely stirred when something brushed at the hem of his t-shirt. Exhaustion weighed him down in the chair by the fire, and he simply murmured, "Hello," when Lex tongued the curve of his navel.

Fifteen years had been good to them. Fifteen years had been good to -him-. Soft lines spread in deltas at the edges of Lex's eyes when he smiled, looking up at Clark and murmuring back, "It's only a rut if we feel obligated. Do you feel obligated?"

"Mmm, no." Clark traced his fingers along Lex's ear, sleepily amused. "Only if I have to move."



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