Not What It Seems

by a.lakewood

Hay. Freshly mown. The sweet smell means it's the end of May.

A deep breath fills his lungs with the thick scent and he notices just the faintest hint of manure. But, by now, after managing the fertilizer plant for just this side of two years, he's used to it.

The sun is just starting to slip behind the line of trees on the horizon, blazing orange and red and tinting the barn, illuminating it even more against the approaching night sky. He heads towards it, gravel crunching underfoot giving way to the dusty, semi-hardness of the compact dirt floor. His shadow is long, falling across the bottom of the stairs.

Slowly, quietly, he ascends the wooden staircase, not wanting the creak of a board to give away his presence. He's been away for too long and wants this to be a surprise. His journey, silent, is almost completed - two more steps to go - but he stops short, poised with one leg in the air to continue but places his feet together on the third stair.

Humidity thickens. Barometric pressure rising. A storm on the way.

He feels it in his chest, pressing heavily on his lungs, stealing his oxygen. A constriction just behind the bottom of his front ribs flutters briefly at the sight before him. The vision. He's transfixed.

The sun's descent below the skyline is half complete, waning red light straining through the hayloft door to paint the garret in scarlet hues tinged with gold. Curling over Clark's sprawled form on the couch, shadowing grooves in his abs exaggeratedly where his t-shirt is hiked up.

The air about him is alive with electricity.

Electricity that stems from the friction of one Clark's large hands slowly stroking his erection from base to tip, a flick of the thumb over the slit at the head. The grip tightens to a fist, knuckles turning white.

And Lex can't force himself to move, to tear his eyes away, to even breathe. Just keeps watching, rapt.

The sun is completely down, the horizon faintly orange fading into pink fading into green, then blue and blue-black. Rainbow sherbet sky - the description coming unbidden, sounding maybe like something Clark would say considering he's never had rainbow sherbet himself. Orange, raspberry, lime. He can see it, though.

It isn't as dim in the loft as it should be with the encroaching darkness outside. Still quite dim, but he can still see Clark and Clark's hand. Bathed in the gentle glow of the lights strung up upon the walls. Soft light creating soft shadow, the tensing of the muscles in Clark's jaw is barely visible.

Sharp breath inhaled through the nose, otherwise he's completely silent as he continues his solitary exploration. Lex has always imagined Clark would be noisy, loud. A babbler, a moaner. Not this quiet. Something that would make up for all the lies - all the things he has never said - will probably never say. An almost-moan, more of a hummed half-sigh as his hand begins to increase speed. A whimper that goes straight to Lex's own cock and he sucks in a harsh gasp.

Clark's head is falling to the side, eyes slowly opening, looks at Lex from under dark lashes. Desire is evident there. He arches his neck, his back a little, too, biting his bottom lip, eyes locking with Lex's for a brief moment before they're drifting shut again and he's almost.

He hears his name whispered, Clark's voice is rough, and it makes him close his eyes. Only something like this could happen - "Lex." A little louder, hissed. And his eyes are open again to hold Clark's gaze. "Please?"

Not even a complete question, but Lex knows the answer. And he's moving without the conscious thought to even do so. On his knees and leans in, hands sliding up jean-clad, muscled thighs flexing beneath his touch.

Clark's hands come up to gently caress Lex's head as Lex starts to go down on him. Sliding over his scalp smoothly, just touching. Lex notes this as peculiar - Clark does farm chores every day, works with his hands every day. Yet, as fingertips graze his skin, he doesn't feel calluses or blisters, not the slightest imperfection.

He takes Clark's dick as far into his mouth as he can, swallows around the head that pushes against the back of his throat and hums a little. It seems that's all Clark needs because he's coming. Hard. Cries out Lex's name as Lex keeps swallowing and licks him clean.

Crackle and flash as lightning branches across the sky beyond the window - one Mississippi - and Lex climbs up onto Clark's lap and pushes him down to the couch cushions. Two Mississippi. Flashes a few more times, a strobe-light effect, stuttering their movements as they work to rid themselves of their clothes. Three - Thunder rumbles distantly as rain starts pattering on the roof. The wind outside picks up, gusts a light spray through the open hayloft door.

Sighs into Clark's mouth as the younger man reaches a hand between their bodies and grasps - head falls to Clark's shoulder, eyes squeezed shut, as the fist tightens around his aching cock and pulls up with a twist. Kisses his neck, smells saline and heat. Thrusts into the hand.

"Am I dead?" he chances to ask. "Or worse - hallucinating?"

Clark's breath tickles his ear as he chuckles, kisses the shell. "How would hallucinating be worse than dying?"

"It would mean having to wake up from this." Hands on either side of Clark's head, buried in the cushions, for leverage to meet the pumping fist, but keeping his face pressed into Clark's neck.

"I see. And, no. You're not dead. Just dreaming - fantasizing again. But this is a good one. My favorite so far."

"Mine, too," Lex groans as Clark's other hand wanders down his back and a finger slips into the crevice of his ass. Skims, teases, enters only slightly. Thumb flicks the head of his cock and he's coming, heat spreading between their stomachs.

Clark nuzzles his neck, open-mouth kisses his shoulder. "I love you," he whispers. "Miss you, too. You coming home soon?"

Fistfuls of sand as he pushes himself up to look Clark in the eye. "I wish these weren't so real."

"Yes, you do. It's all that keeps you alive."

"I love you, too. I just wish you knew."

"I do." He pauses. "But you should wake up now before the tide gets too high."

Lex nods, closes his eyes as he leans down to kiss Clark thoroughly, one last time. Straightens back up, head hanging between his arms, opening his eyes again. Blinks a few times in the shade his body provides from the bright sunlight.

Clark's gone. Again.

He turns and sits on the beach to look at the water. Closes his eyes to the light and tries to go back to the barn where it's cool and raining and where Clark is. The crash of the waves on the shore almost sounds like distant thunder and the spray almost feels like rain.

After a couple of minutes he gets up and heads to the other side of the island where he's been working on the raft. The sooner he finishes, the sooner he's off this God-forsaken island, and the sooner he's back home with Clark. Finding out if his subconscious is right.

Finding out if Clark moans and if his hands are smooth.

Finding out if Clark loves him, too.

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