by Vivian Darkbloom
"I spent my day pushing an invading space-ship out of our galaxy and halfway across the next-"
"Lower," murmurs Lex. Clark adjusts his hands:
"So why are you the one getting the back rub?"
He massages the base of Lex's spine with his thumb. Lex arches up like a cat.
"I spent all day in the lab, Clark. Hours standing over a table of instruments, bending over a lap top...."
Clark dips down to kiss Lex's neck. Lex makes an approving little noise. He says:
"And today is Sunday. The newspaper's much heavier on Sunday. It's tiring to read."
"Yeah, yeah," says Clark. Lex looks over his shoulder:
"Was that sarcasm?"
Clark raises an eyebrow. He lets his hands drift down to Lex's ass and squeezes a little. Lex, caught by surprise, squeaks - and then glares at Clark. He hates sounding undignified. In one fluid motion, he sits up and pushes Clark down underneath him:
"Fine, then. It's my turn-"
Lex moves down between Clark's legs, one hand deftly working the button-fly of Clark's jeans.
"-to do some of the heavy lifting."
And with that, he drapes Clark's legs over his shoulders and lowers his head. Clark promptly forgets about invading aliens, Sunday newspapers and whose turn it is to do what to whom, aware only of the hot mouth around his cock and the slick sounds of Lex's tongue.
And later, when Lex falls asleep on his shoulder, Clark doesn't even complain about having to carry him to bed.
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