What I Do Is Me-For That I Came

by Te and Jenn


Please send any and all feedback to both authors: thete1@earthlink.net and jenn@thegateway.net


What I Do Is Me -- For That I Came
by Te and Jenn
May-July 2002

Disclaimers: If they were ours, there would be regular fashion shows. Because together, we make at least one straight woman.

Spoilers: None, really.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Summary: Clark wants Lex to explain some of his more eccentric sartorial choices. In detail.

Authors' Notes: Originally intended for the Pornotopia, but hey, we got distracted. Now it's for Livia's Bradbury Challenge, because somebody had to porn that sucker up.

Acknowledgments: Te thinks this counts as a little bit more on Miz E's account, and she also offers it with love to her hardworking Webrain. Jenn loves Wendi, Beth, and Andy for the porn on demand. Encouragement of sexual deviancy is always appreciated.

Feedback is almost as good as leather. Especially in this heat. thete1@earthlink.net,jenn@thegateway.com

*

"Wow, Lex. That's... really a lot of leather."

"Absolutely essential to any rich boy's rebellion, Clark, I assure you. And you were the one who referred to my Hugo Boss three-quarter length jacket as too -- what was it? 'Stuffy?'"

Clark tosses a smirk over his shoulder. "Anything you wear to the office on a regular basis is, by definition, stuffy, Lex. C'mon, you're supposed to be going out and having fun. You *can't* wear the same old clothes you wear every day. It would ruin my father's image of you as the dissolute rich boy out to destroy everyone's virtue."

Lex snorts and enjoys the view as Clark walks a little further into his wardrobe. "I have no idea what I was thinking. Thank God I have you to save me. Clark, it's just a party. I go to those all the time."

Clark ducks his head out of the wall-length wardrobe for a moment. "Correction: you used to go to those all the time. Chloe says Gabe says you don't take days off. Meanwhile, jeez, you could stable a couple of horses in here..."

"I like to think the leather is of slightly better quality than that..."

"I... just can't picture you wearing this stuff," Clark says, fingering a corset. It's a long, endlessly amusing second that Lex enjoys before recognition crosses Clark's face with a flash of pure heat and shock.

Lex hides a smile. "Any stuff in particular?"

"Well... I mean... isn't this for. Um. Women?" Clark waves the material as if he expects it to change into something else entirely, something -- well, not a corset.

Lex tilts his head and carefully removes the corset from Clark's hands, holding it up.

"Not necessarily. In the right setting--" Quick look at Clark's face. "Of course. I'm shocking you. Let's--"

"No! I mean, no, I'm -- fine with it. Just -- you know. Smallville. Not exactly -- uh, leather central and all." If Clark could blush any harder, Lex thinks, he'd probably turn an interesting shade of purple.

Almost defensively, Clark reaches out and takes it back, holding it up as if it's some sort of interpretive tapestry. "I just -- it's interesting. And, um. It has laces."

"Hence the reason it's called a corset." Lex smiles as Clark fingers the material, obviously completely incapable of wrapping his mind around the concept. Cute, in that small-town way that Lex is beginning to enjoy. Hot, too, but neither observation is likely to keep Clark standing here, fingering leather that, if memory serves, was last utilized during a particularly interesting party in Chicago.

Clark is still eyeing the thing like a particularly confusing bit of archaeological trivia. Which it is, in its own way.

Lex can't quite picture being the same person who walked in a room wearing that, some exquisitely tailored take on Dr. Frankenfurter, and nothing else.

Can't quite picture wanting to.

It's... a little distressing, actually.

"So... how do you get it on?"

Lex blinks. "Hmm?" Focus. He can do that.

"How do you -- put it on?" The blush has somehow managed the impossible and entered Clark's hairline, and only Lex's extremely active imagination can guess how far it goes under his sweater, but -- right. Putting it on. Okay.

"I--" And that's a thought. Letting Clark keep control of the hanger, Lex turns it, carefully sliding his fingers through the laces, aware Clark is watching him with an almost painful focus. "It's relatively self-explanatory, Clark. You untie the laces--"

"Right, right.." Redder. Amazing.

Lex bites his tongue to keep from smiling. "... slip it on, arrange it so it falls symmetrically on your chest -- that's the toughest part -- then lace it up again."

Clark is still puzzling at it. "But... how? I mean, the laces are in the back, too..."

"Those are mainly for show. Once it's fitted, you never undo the ones in the back." Can't resist. "Unless you want to."

Clark's Adam's apple bobs in a most fascinating way. "Er... and you've worn this? I mean... in public?"

No holding back the smile. "I have."

There must be a new color in the spectrum to describe Clark right now. Lex forces himself to keep a straight face, gently removing the hanger from Clark's unresisting hands, and turns to carefully put it back. He really doesn't need most of this anymore, but--

"Would--I mean, is it uncomfortable?"

And why does Lex think that's not the question Clark was going to ask? Turning slightly, he studies Clark, who's very carefully not looking at the corset, or Lex, or in fact, anything but some random spot on the wall.

"Not really." Though to be honest, Lex can't exactly be sure of that -- after all, the point of the clothing isn't comfort. "It's -- freeing, in a way."

Now he has Clark's gaze, and that's--interesting. Pretty boy in his closet, studying his clothes with some strange combination of naivete and almost -- not hunger, not quite, but it's as close as Lex can come to a definition. Interest, definitely, and really, who would have guessed?

"Freeing?"

"You know, Clark, we don't have to talk about this."

"About your clothes?" And Clark actually manages a not-quiteguileless smile before ducking his head and looking away again.

Lex laughs. "Riiight. Okay. Yes, freeing. Because it's the next best thing to being naked. Better than being naked, because..." Waits.

There. Clark's looking at him again, eyes wide. "Because?"

"A naked body only answers some of the questions, Clark. A body in something like..." Lex strokes the leather of the corset, as invitingly as he can manage. "... this? Answers more."

Clark's studying the leather again, and Lex wonders a little vaguely if Clark expects actual letters to show up on the material in answer to -- well, whatever the hell he's thinking. And until this second, Lex would have said he could read Clark like a book. But -- apparently not.

It isn't the most comfortable feeling in the world, feeling that at some point in the conversation, Clark has changed identities, or maybe -- become more of whatever the hell he actually is?

Lex rubs his head. He needs a drink. Badly.

"Why don't we go downstairs and --"

"What do--I mean, what would someone wear with that?" The calm, should be so fucking readable yet *isn't* gaze is back on the corset again. Weighing, measuring, hell, Lex is getting the impression that Clark's building a visual, and this is-- "Where? Would you -- someone -- wear it?" Flush still there, granted, but this is very possibly the last conversation he ever expected to have with Clark Kent, and he's counting the ones that might start with 'would you like to be sucked off now?'

And now would be a terrible time to laugh. Lex curls a finger around the laces and attempts to look thoughtful. "Well, there are clubs for this sort of thing, and clubs within those clubs. Private parties, of course." Flicks a glance at Clark and finds him... staring at Lex's mouth.

Clark blinks, shakes like a particularly shy dog. "Clubs?" His voice cracks a little.

"Mm-hmm. Most of them are really just places to show off your tailor's work. Others... aren't."

Another pretty-virgin swallow, and Clark is stroking the leather constantly now, hand just inches from Lex's own. "No? I mean... um. I'm guessing. Ah. S&M?"

Ah, a childhood spent with the internet is a beautiful thing. "For some. Clark --"

Changeable eyes on his own now, focused to the point of something a little terrible. "For you?"

There's a second where Lex thinks he's going to lie. It's on the tip of his tongue, ready to slide out between them and the awkwardness will fade and they'd go back to -- well, the way they'd been before the discovery of corsets and another facet of a questionable past. His father didn't know. Victoria had never known.

"Yes."

It falls remarkably like a rock between them, and something's changed, though Lex can't quit focus on what. The closet is still the closet, Lex is still stroking the leather, and Clark is still in the room, when any reasonable prediction of this moment would have said that Clark would leave.

Find an excuse, mumble something unconvincing yet strangely endearing, and disappear with that truly inspired speed that always makes Lex just a little curious as to why Clark isn't on the track team.

But -- Clark hasn't moved, Lex hasn't moved, and the fingers stroking the leather beside his own are shifting closer with every breath.

"What -- did you like to do?"

Has to close his eyes for a moment. He could still call this off, he thinks. Say something cutting about boundaries, but... Clark is very close. In more ways than Lex had ever expected. Opens his eyes and Clark looks so hungry. God, he has to teach this boy to lie. Someday. Later. Much later. "It depended on my mood, really."

Little lines of frustration on Clark's forehead.

"Clark, do you really --"

"I want to know." Blinks like he's shocked himself. "I mean. If you... I..."

Easy as breath to close that last inch between their hands, to stroke his thumb over Clark's knuckles. "It's okay. I'll tell you everything you want to know." And that's... nothing but truth.

Solidified with Clark's sharp inhale. "I want... did you ever let someone... hurt you?"

"Yes." He can almost see Clark taking that in, though his expression doesn't change at all. Little flickers of something behind the eyes, maybe, the outside impression of whatever images a teenaged virgin can come up with, but the fingers under his don't move at all.

And more than any other time in their friendship, Lex wishes he had some sort of direct line to Clark's thoughts, because this -- this wasn't on the agenda for today. "Do you want me to be specific?"

Maybe it's something in his blood, that makes him push so hard, or maybe it's the way Clark's watching him with that intense curiosity like something you can taste, or hell, maybe it's Smallville fucking with his head. But.

He strokes a thumb over Clark's fingers and takes a step closer, until he almost thinks he can feel the heat of Clark's body from beneath those good boy clothes. Fresh scent of straw and wind and orange juice from downstairs, jarringly wholesome, and Clark licks his lips and that's --

Fuck.

"Yeah. I mean, if you want to tell me."

Clark's still trying to be casual. Or... Lex thinks he is, but. Impossible to be sure. When in doubt, keep pushing. "There are a lot of ways to hurt someone, you know that, right? Ways to make sure it isn't permanent, or requiring a trip to the hospital?"

Patently adorable smile. He's going to Hell. "You never go to hospitals anyway, Lex." Clark looks at their hands for a long moment, looks up again. "But... yeah. I know. Or... I can. Um. Imagine."

Lex thinks he would surrender his inheritance, or just buy his father a new heir to see exactly what Clark's imagining. "Okay. So... imagine this: Being tied down. Blindfolded. You can't move. You can't see. All you can feel is whatever you're tied to, and whatever... the other person wants you to feel. With me so far?" God, he could at least try to modulate his voice.

"Oh. I... yeah."

Or... no. No he can't. "Good. That's..." Lex licks his lips. Almost does it again, just to see if Clark's eyes will follow the motion again. "The leather's cutting into you. Your chest, your ribs... the laces are as tight as you can get them and still breathe."

"That... that makes it better?"

God. Fuck. Clark. "For me."

"Oh. Okay..."

Lex is nodding and he has no idea why. He's beginning to hate the corset a little. It's between them, in a way that's just... very wrong. "Yeah. So... you're tied. Helpless. You can smell your own sweat, and leather. The smell of leather is everywhere in those places. You can smell how aroused you are, and you think everyone else in the room must smell it, too.

"There's no way to know how many people are there. How many people are watching this. Watching you."

"Oh God..."

Lex chances another stroke across Clark's knuckles and gets his hand held for his trouble. Clark's thumb in his palm, pressing tiny circles and for long moments they're both just... watching.

"More, Lex. Tell me. Please."

Soft little plea in his voice, something like desperate and more like -- wanting? Needing, something, God, and Lex swallows, wondering when control of this conversation shifted. When he lost it, or did he ever have it in the first place? Clark's hand on his, big eyes waiting for him to answer and he's wondering if it's even possible not to.

"But -- it's like being alone until the first touch. You don't -- you can't know where or how it'll happen, and your entire body is -- almost sensitized.

"Ready. And just -- the waiting is the worst part. Sometimes--" and Clark's fingers are shifting, rubbing harder, almost gripping, mouth a little open, eyes utterly focused, like there's nothing on earth more important than understanding this. "Close your eyes, Clark."

Little, shuddering sigh, but they shut, lashes dark on perfect cheeks, and Lex takes a step closer, letting out a breath on the warm skin. But -- not touching. Not yet.

"It's completely dark," he says slowly, keeping his voice low, and Clark shivers, hand tightening on his. Gently, he pulls his hand away, watching Clark's hang in the air for an endless moment, before it slides back down to his side. "You don't know who's around you, where they are, what they're doing. If they're watching, if they're not. Completely exposed to them in every way." It's hard to step back, but he has to or he's never going to be able to stop himself from touching Clark and that's -- not yet. Not just yet.

"So you're waiting, and you can feel those eyes like a weight all over your body. Just -- there. Waiting."

Another step back and God, this is hard. Clark looks like he's just this close to leaning forward, grabbing Lex, and... weirdly, that makes things a little easier. Because if they're going to do this...

"It's easy to lose track of time with your eyes closed."

"I... yeah. Lex...?"

"For me, these little games had more to do with control than anything else. How long I could keep from struggling, even though I knew there was no way out. How much I could quiet my own breath, my own heartbeats, if only to see if I could feel who else was in the room." Slips his tie off while he speaks, wincing a little at the small sound it makes as it hits the floor.

Clark doesn't move, doesn't act like he's sensed a thing. There's a screaming voice in the back of his head demanding to know what he thinks he's doing, but it sounds a lot like his father, so... Lex smiles and works on his buttons.

"Sometimes the scariest thing -- no. The scariest thing was always the possibility that nothing at all would happen. That they'd leave me tied. Waiting. Aching."

Clark's eyes shift behind the lids in something like panic, but he keeps them closed. Bites his lip as if Lex wasn't there watching. God. Everything. Nothing, no one should be that sexy wearing that many layers of awful clothing. "Did they... did that ever happen?"

Lex slips his shirt off slowly, trying to minimize the drag of fabric on skin. "Not to me, but you always heard stories like that. Some slave left tied up and hard for hours..." Kneels as he speaks, setting the shirt down carefully and quickly untying his shoes.

"Jesus. Doesn't that kind of... defeat the purpose?" Clark shifts, hand drifting down the front of his flannel before jerking away fast and Lex knows he's hard under there.

"I certainly thought so, but, well. Chacun a son gout, etc." Lex toes off his shoes, opens his belt but leaves it in the loops, the leather would be too loud, too obvious hitting the floor. "But... control. Testing myself. How long I could keep from begging for touch. Any touch at all."

"Lex..." Broken sound to Clark's voice and it's almost impossible to get his pants and shorts down in any kind of subtle way.

His hands are shaking. He can't really blame himself. "On nights like those... the control was the most important thing. Having it." Stork-like motions to get his socks off, and not even laughing at himself is going to make this any easier. "Losing it."

"Oh..." More a moan than a word, and Clark shifts again in obvious discomfort.

Lex wants to ask about it. Wants confirmation, wants to see what Clark's eyes would look like when he's hard, but... not yet. Not yet. "But see... losing control... it couldn't be easy. They had to work for it. I had to work against it." The corset creaks a little as he picks it up. "Do you understand?"

"God, Lex, that's so..."

"Fucked up? I know."

"I was... I was going to say hot, but okay, that, too."

Lex grins despite himself. This is... not what he'd bought the corset for. Nothing like it. "Glad you approve." Centers the back-laces against his spine and holds the thing on with his arms. He used to be able to do this in seconds.

"What... what made you lose control?"

Lex shakes his head, fumbling at the laces. "It was always different. When they used their hand instead of the whip. When they whispered something... dirty into my ear. When I realized just how many hands were on me... always something different." There. Laces even and started, and this part at least isn't so hard. A quick glance at Clark and he's... closer.

"Lex... I... are we..."

"Shh, Clark. Hang on. Just another..." Yanks the laces tight and ties them, gasping, and Clark is reaching out with one shaking hand. "Okay. Okay..." The snaps for the stockings slap a little painfully, a little ridiculous against his bare thighs.

"Lex?"

He can't remember the last time he was this hard. Takes Clark's hand in his own, stroking the palm at the boy's instinctive little jump. "It's okay. It's okay."

"Can I... God, let me open my eyes, Lex, please..."

"Not yet. Just..." Tugs Clark's hand close, presses it against his hip.

"Oh God..."

Drags it up over the leather, the laces...

"Oh God, Lex..."

It's amazing, he thinks, feeling the leather slick against his skin, familiar and not at all. Too many differences between the person who wore this before and the one who's wearing it now, but -- not important. Keeps his hand on Clark's, not moving, not pushing, letting Clark decide, and it's a decision that's traceable across the boy's face.

Smooth palm slowly sliding, feeling his way up his body, curious and hungry and needing. Not anything like he'd expect, then Clark takes a blind step forward and his other hand is on Lex's face. Grounding himself, maybe.

Eyes still closed, and there's another jolt, down his spine and into his cock, that Clark *won't* open his eyes until Lex says he can.

"Imagine," Lex whispers, and Clark jerks, but not away. Fingers sliding over his chest, finding the laces, fingering the skin just above the neck. Fascinated and methodical movement, like he's trying to build a visual in his head, and Lex shuts his eyes. "Sometimes the touches are so light, I could barely feel them. Like air, like a tease. Like --" He has to breathe, has to, with Clark's hand against his throat, warm and heavy. Down over his shoulder across his back, finding the leather and making his map. "Sometimes--"

"Please Lex--"

"Sometimes one place, sometimes several at the same time, I couldn't ever be sure." Clark's breathing fast, edge of sweat appearing on his forehead, and Lex lets his hand on Clark's tighten. "Anywhere. Everywhere. The things they told me they wanted to do to me. The things they wanted me to do to them. The ways they'd use me. How much I'd like it."

Clark's hand is on his hip, tight and hard, digging into bone; Lex will feel that for days. Weeks, maybe.

"Let me see--"

"... touching my face, my neck, my ass, my cock." And he can't control his voice, wonders how the fuck he's managed to keep himself from touching. Tasting. Staring at Clark's lips, wet and a little open with each breath. He can imagine how Clark will taste. Fuck.

"Let me--"

He steps back, a little twist getting him free of Clark's hands, and the boy almost stumbles. Catches himself with a step forward, but he doesn't open his eyes.

Lex has never felt so free.

"Clark." The strong chin jerks up and they're both trembling. Lex forces himself to breathe. "Open your eyes."

And Clark does, and God, so bright. Lit up from within like every bad metaphor he ever schemed his way out of English classes to avoid and... focused.

On him. Lex struggles for a deep breath he can't quite get and Clark's hands are on his chest, pressing, stroking, teasing halfmindlessly at the top of the corset.

Tugging it away from his chest like he thinks Lex has anything left to hide and gasping out some small, needy noise as he traces the rising welts. "Lex. You're so... oh God I have to --"

Brief sucking, promising kiss and Clark's tilting Lex's head back, mouthing his throat and muttering things that may or may not be words, hands restless on him, everywhere he's covered.

A fetish is born, Lex thinks, and laughs helplessly, chokes on it when Clark runs his tongue along his collarbone. "Oh fuck, Clark --"

"Don't. God, don't stop me, please --"

"Fuck. Fuck. Wouldn't... dream of it Jesus --"

Clark on his knees, nails digging into the leather and he's staring at Lex's cock. "You're so hard..."

"You... you turn me on so much --" So much truth he wants to bite his own tongue off, but Clark is licking the leather, tasting the lower edge of the corset, pressing his tongue hard against it, hard enough that Lex can feel it. Pressure and heat and his knees nearly buckle when Clark's hands finally make it down to his ass.

"So smooth, Lex. Lex, oh God, I don't know what I'm doing --"

"Whatever you want. You can... you can do whatever --"

Sharp animal noise and Lex manages to focus just fast enough to see Clark viciously squeezing his own cock through his jeans, forehead pressed to the front laces of the corset and face twisted in something like agony.

Lex thrusts forward before he can get control of his hips, painting Clark's cheek with pre-come and oh God. Drag of skin and stubble. Torture so incredible, so good.

"Lex. Lex you have to be down here with me --"

"Okay --" But the word isn't even out before Clark's tumbled them both down, getting Lex straddled on top of him, eyes wide and hands busy, shaking.

"Yeah. Yes, please --"

"Anything," and he means it, God, he means it, as much as he did in those damned clubs or more. Extremis so close he can taste it, and he can't blame himself for this, he's fought so much harder than he ever did not to touch, not to take...

Gets his hands on Clark's sweater and struggles with it, arms tangling with Clark's as he continues to just... explore.

"Oh, God. You made me... I didn't know what you were doing, I thought... I thought you were teasing --"

Laughs a little hysterically. "I was."

"That's teasing? Putting on a corset is teasing?" Shocked laugh behind Clark's eyes and then he's got Lex's cock in one big, hot hand. "Then this is teasing, too, right?"

"Oh, Christ --"

It's raw, uncomplicated, pure pleasure, and Clark's grin is huge and a little cracked, his hips rocking up against Lex again and again. Clark's free hand is on the leather like he'll never get enough of touching it, feeling it, fingers digging through until Lex wonders if Clark's fingerprints will show up on the skin beneath.

He can't help leaning down, brushing a wet kiss across Clark's mouth, sucking his bottom lip. Bites down hard and gets an answering squeeze on his cock that's the best kind of pain.

Finally just rips the sweater off, and the t-shirt's an easy jerk over Clark's head, leaving long golden arms and chest stretched out on display. No one could blame Lex for leaning back, settling over Clark's cock and rubbing in, staring at the expanse of flawless skin and utterly desperate boy writhing under him. Bracing a hand on Clark's chest and rocking down.

"God, Lex, please--" Clark's head is thrown back, neck arched and just gorgeous. Lex runs his fingers down the strong chest, barely a ghost of a touch that Clark arches into without hesitation, moaning softly when Lex ends it at his stomach.

Almost growling with the loss, and Lex grins, lightheaded and so hard he's barely able to concentrate, but he wants to see this. Huge dark eyes and beautiful face and straining body under the tightest leash of control. It won't take much.

"... and soon, I can't stand it," he whispers, stroking his fingertips back up Clark's chest. "Can't stand to wait for it, for them to touch me. Have to beg for it, for anything they'll do, anything at all." He rocks down again, feeling Clark's hand tighten on his cock, another shock that makes his breath catch, words caught in his throat. "And they can see it on my face, that second, Clark. That second I can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel --"

"Lex --" Vicious squeeze of his cock, hips bucking into Lex's, and it's close, so close...

"...when I'll do anything, say anything, whatever they want, however they want it--"

"Please, Lex--"

"...when I break."

There.

Almost angry squeeze of his cock, Clark's free hand on his hip sliding to his back, jerking him over and down, on his knees, barely catching himself on his elbows before Clark's behind him. Against him. Helpless thrusts against his ass, mouth fixed on his throat, hands stroking his chest through the corset, down to his hips and pulling him back. Just off-balance enough not to be able to react and Clark groans into his ear and mumbles something indecipherable. Sucking bite to the back of his shoulder, hard hands on his hips and Clark is -- God...

"Like -- like this?" Clark whispers, and Lex grins, digging his fingers into the carpet, experimental thrust toward the floor, but the hold on his hips is too strong and he can't get anyway.

He could come just from the sound of Clark's voice right now.

"Don't ask. Do it."

"Christ, Lex, you don't even know --"

"That's the point."

"So... so fucking smug --" And Clark stops rocking his hips, pulls away for long enough that Lex is starting to regret his tone, but... Those hands are still on him. Big and hot and hard and. Spreading him.

"Oh God --" Bites his lip, but Clark only pauses for a moment. Thumbs in his cleft, rubbing, spreading...

"I can't imagine... you've been fucked before."

It's not a question, but... "Yes. Yeah."

"You... you like that?"

"God yeah --"

And Clark's groan sounds almost pained, but he never stops rubbing Lex's hole. Fascination Lex can feel, just one more connection in this fucked up game they're playing that's still more real than anything Lex can focus on right now.

Turns his head and the sight of them in the mirror is enough to make Lex groan, enough to make Clark turn --

"Oh, God..."

And Clark's hands are all over him again, and he's watching himself touch Lex like he can't believe he's allowed, like it's the best show on television and it could be canceled anytime. Lips parted, eyes shocky and dark with want --

"Lex. Oh, God, Lex, look at us..."

"Fuck, Clark..."

Wet, soft mouth on the back of his head, his neck, tracing the edges of the corset with sucking kisses and Clark is licking between the laces, stroking Lex with a kind of restless starvation that only pauses when he tries to move, and then only to hold him still.

Achingly hard and ready for it, body screaming for more of everything. Teeth and cock and oh God sweet, sweet tongue slipping down his cleft as Clark spreads him again.

Wordless, incoherent mutters and hot breath against his hole and Lex couldn't answer even if he knew the question.

"Please..." His own tongue feels thick in his mouth, dry and useless and nowhere near as agile as the muscle working him open, working him slick and helpless and "Clark... so good..."

He takes it as nothing but encouragement, spreading Lex wider, stroking and squeezing with his thumbs and driving his tongue in faster, harder. A fuck of pure intent, half-conscious and raw and just this close to driving Lex insane.

Is this something he'd pictured? At any point?

Something Clark thought those nameless, faceless tops had tried to shock Lex with in all those nameless, shameless clubs? Pleasure for pain?

Sucking kiss, sudden and hard, and Clark pulls back, shocking a humiliating whine out of Lex's throat. Making him bite his lip.

"I... Lex." Clark sounds desperate enough to kill, pained enough to feel every hurt he inflicted.

"I said anything, Clark..." Impossible to keep his voice light.

Rough, half-possessive stroke over his ass. "I... I want... I don't have..."

Lex blanks hard for a long moment. He can feel the world's worst and worst-timed case of the giggles bubbling up at the back of his throat, because the idea of making their way from here to his bedroom, or hell, even the limo... it just wasn't going to happen.

But... he'd been planning on going out tonight. To a party. Which meant...

"My pants."

"What?"

Somewhere -- God, somewhere close, please, and Lex gropes out a hand blindly, feeling soft wool and cotton, the silk of his tie -- closer, right -- where the fuck --

"Lex?"

"My pants. In the pocket." Fuck it, this is utterly insane and if he had any sense, he'd use this to roll over and put a stop --

"Here." A tangle of black linen falls into Lex's line of vision and there's a second where he wonders why Clark didn't just get it himself before he gets an unsteady hand in the pocket. Right, wallet, right --

Little foil packet clutched in his hand, and he has a sudden and blinding realization of the obvious.

"Clark --" And he turns, breath catching at the sight of far too much golden skin still covered by too many clothes. Faded work jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, glimpse of white briefs and it shouldn't be sexy. Somehow, it still is. "Do you know --"

"Sixteen. Sex Ed." Oh thank God -- Lex isn't sure he's up to explaining this, and sits up. Rough denim a startling contrast to silky skin and hard muscle beneath, and Lex is caught for a second just feeling him. Light, rough hair on Clark's stomach and he's panting, flushed, beautiful, and Lex breathes out sharply.

Just gorgeous.

Easy to pull the jeans and shorts down -- slim hips and flat stomach and hard cock, and Clark's almost shaking, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Lex gentles him with palms down his thighs, easing the material down, looking up to see the dark eyes shut tight, mouth in a hard line of pure want.

"Take them off." Because there's something silly right this second about jeans around the knees that Lex's mind simply won't fix on. Clark nods jerkily, sitting back to untie the boots, snapping the laces. A few awkward and fascinating movements spill socks and jeans onto the floor beside them, and Clark's staring at him with something that's bordering close to panic.

Like nudity isn't something pretty much required for this sort of activity.

"Lex --" Hands half-coming up in belated recognition of the fact he's naked in front of another person without a shower in sight, and Lex catches himself smiling and forces it away. Not now. Oh God, the very apotheosis of not now, and he runs the tips of his fingers over Clark's hip, feeling the shudder of skin, and Clark closes his eyes.

"Clark." Waits for him to open his eyes, then grins, getting up on his knees, letting the condom fall somewhere easily findable, say, right beside them, and closes his hand around the stiff cock that's begging for attention. Which Lex is more than happy to provide.

"Fuck--" He even sounds pretty saying it. Shaky indrawn breath and big hands close over his shoulders, kneading into the skin and bone, and the kiss is startling hard, all teeth and tongue and the iron-sweet edge of blood, and Lex sucks Clark's lower lip, shuddering himself as Clark's hands skim the leather, finding his ass like it's a surprise it's there at all, then a jerk that brings them body to body and Lex sucks in another breath at the feel of his cock against Clark's thigh. Fuck. He's not going to last long at all.

"Shh." Gentles him, wrapping thick hair between his fingers, silky soft, just perfect, another kiss. "What do you want?"

The cock in his hand jumps, and Lex circles the damp head with his thumb, feeling Clark's shudders, and watching the almost desperate look in his eyes before a finger slides into the cleft of his ass and sex-ed in Kansas he will never, ever mock again.

"I want to -- let me --" Little sounds, and just the thought of Clark asking makes Lex thrust against him.

But the thought of Clark taking... Lex leans in and kisses Clark slowly. Thoroughly. Holds his head still when he feels the boy abruptly remember where his mouth had been -- and Christ, Lex is seriously considering taking up kidnapping -- and kisses him a little harder until Clark relaxes in his arms.

Until Clark moves to hold Lex in return, at which point he turns around.

Gives Clark his back.

Leans into that long, lean chest and turns his head until he can whisper into Clark's ear. Feel the shivers against his mouth. "Push me down."

"Oh. Oh, fuck --"

"Yeah..."

And Clark doesn't wait, just grabs him by his artfully artificial waist and... pushes. Forward and down. Long, slow stroke up the center of his back and there's a big, hard hand on the back of his neck.

Holding him down.

"Is this... oh God, Lex, this is so hot..."

And Lex can't find words anymore. *Clark's* hand, *Clark's* undeniable, implacable strength pushing him down into the oh-so-plush carpeting and holding him there and Lex feels...

Ruined.

Spoiled.

This is nothing he couldn't get in Metropolis and so much more than anything else, ever, even with no concept of control he's ever been familiar with so much as even entering the room. It's just this. Just them.

Just Clark's shaky hand on his neck, forcing Lex to face the mirror, to see them both like this, stretched out, sprawled out, bent and hard and hungry, and, oh, yes, he can beg for this.

"Please, Clark..."

Shocked little gasp, and Clark is squeezing the base of his cock hard, shifting between to give his balls a vicious little tug that makes Lex ache in sympathy, but... he never lets go of Lex's neck with his other hand.

And he squeezes a little.

"S-say it, Lex."

"Oh fuck..."

"I want to hear you say it. What you want." And Clark's voice is so low, so... adult would be pushing it, and pushing hard, but...

Should it be such a surprise? Clark's a smart boy, and Lex has told him -- given him -- everything today. Everything. Lex feels himself flushing and it just makes him harder. "Fuck me. Please. Fuck me, Clark."

Hand on his ass, thumb in the cleft. Seeking, finding. Stabbing little pushes that make Lex pant, try to roll his hips back for more. "Say it. Say it again."

"Oh God, Clark, please... fuck me, I need --"

"Jesus -- oh God, Lex, you're so sexy --" And Clark's hands are gone for just long enough for Lex to get up on his elbows before the crackle of foil registers and Clark is spreading him again. Moaning. "God, need to be in you..."

"Yeah... yeah, okay..." Lex can't bring himself to care about incoherence, just jams two fingers into his mouth until they're wet enough to work with. Reaches back and pushes in -- "just have to... open up a little..."

"God, oh God yeah --"

Wet sounds behind him and Clark's brushing his fingers aside, replacing them with two of his own. Long fingers. Big fingers. Thick and strong and the stretch has Lex groaning, mouth open and just wet with it.

"So tight..."

"Clark --"

Sharp twist inside him and Lex hears himself make a noise he can't classify. Christ. Fuck. Kid's a fucking natural...

"Push... push up -- oh fuck yes -- "

Doesn't have to tell Clark to do it again.

Again.

Watches through hazed vision as his reflection pushes back on that good, strong hand, as Clark focuses on his ass like it'll disappear if he blinks. So fucking good. "Lex..."

"Yeah, do it... now, do it now..."

He's not sure the words ever actually get air before Clark's shifting, blunt, hot pressure to his ass, and he shivers, can't help it, because -- how the fuck long has it been, anyway? There's a second of almost hysterical amusement, before the strong hand on his neck tightens and Clark starts pushing.

Rush in his ears, the stretch amazing, and God, he forgot how good this feels. Sharp stretch, they didn't prepare enough but what the fuck, Lex has done more with less. And Clark's -- so slow, so careful even now, it's enough to make him grin, a low and appreciative moan finding the air and this is --

"Lex, I --" Little caught breath and in a just universe, Clark would be doing this a hell of a lot harder. Bracing his hands against the floor, only semi-aware that Clark's making some noise about hurting him, Lex pushes back--

Yes.

"Fucking hell --" No idea who says it, just the sheer burn of it, bright and sharp and grounding and so good Lex's cock jerks, spitting pre-come and he's so hard it aches. There's a desperate sound behind him, fingers scrabbling on leather, finding his hips, the pressure in his neck gone and it's only a second before Clark thrusts.

"Oh God, Lex, you're so -- so tight..." The words trickle off like Clark's ran out of air, and Lex blinks away the shock, still feeling it when Clark pulls out -- painfully empty, can't have that -- then another thrust back in. Not fast enough, not hard enough, but -- God, yes, doing this, hands growing more sure, more steady, endless pressure Lex can wallow in with perfect contentment.

Hard, strong hand closing over his cock, squeezing hard enough to hell, maybe bruise, and Lex sucks in a startled breath at the next rough thrust.

Claws at the carpet at the next.

And the next.

"Can't... hold back. God, sorry --"

And he'd laugh if he could, but -- Christ -- Clark's fucking everything remotely coherent out of him. Nothing but sound left. Noise. Noises. Punched out with every long, perfect stroke, and it's so good Lex thinks he could die from this.

Every old joke, every stupid cliche and it's all right here. He can barely remember how to breathe, and every time Clark drives in the knowledge becomes desperately unimportant.

So hot. Sweating with it despite the air-conditioned cool of the room, despite his own near-nudity, and Clark's hands on his hip, on his cock have their own special burn. Melting right through him.

"Lex... oh God -- Can't believe how good..." Trails off into a hurt-sounding moan and Clark squeezes his cock again, strokes it awkwardly once, twice, and Lex has just enough time to be shocked at himself before --

"Christ --"

And Clark just freezes, balls-deep and shuddering so hard Lex can feel it even through his own orgasm, and for a moment he thinks Clark came, too, but --

"Can I -- have to --" And Clark's lifting him. Pulling Lex back against his chest and spreading his thighs over his own, locking one strong arm around his chest and oh, God, fucking his way back in.

"Oh God oh fuck --" Deep. And solid and thick and surrounding him, and in this position Clark can pet the stained leather as much as he wants to. Mouth Lex's throat and mutter incomprehensible nothings into his ear and just grind his way up and in.

In.

In.

"Want you, Lex..."

In.

"... jerked off before I came over..."

In. "Clark..."

"Never thought you'd let me..." Closer to a growl than language.

In.

"... don't wanna stop..."

Steady burn through his ass, like Clark's finding new areas to reshape, and God, he's never been fucked like this. Aftershocks still shuddering through his body, and he may never remember how to breathe naturally again. Somehow gets a hand up, back, silky hair under his fingers, pulling Clark down into a sloppy kiss that brings a fresh taste of blood and a warm, wet tongue that fucks his mouth as ruthlessly as Clark's cock fucks his ass.

He's going to be feeling this for weeks.

"Come on," he hears himself whisper roughly, tilting his head further, sweaty skin, rough stubble against his face and he rubs into it without thinking. "Watch yourself."

Clark's eyes flicker up, get caught again, and Lex follows, blur of movement he has to watch. Black leather and pale skin and gold, tangled in an indecent heap of sweat and movement. Little gasp, harsh and almost pained against his shoulder, another hard thrust that makes Lex ache all over, and then teeth dig into his shoulder, quick and pain-bright before pulling back and another low groan.

"Clark -- come on --" Fingers on his nipple, twisting sharply, and there's a terrifying possibility he's going to get hard again, another kind of pain that's -- oh God, fuck, fuck, too sensitive, too soon, and it's not like he's getting a choice. His throat feels raw and the taste of blood's stronger, only occurring to him now that he's biting into his own lip and he chokes on a broken laugh, digging his nails into the back of Clark's neck with the next too-solid thrust.

Can a person be fucked to death? Lex is willing to find out.

"God, Lex, so sexy--" Almost desperate edge to Clark's voice, frantic movement, rhythm fragmenting for something more instinctive and more jarring, and Lex gasps at the pressure, at Clark's hand on his stomach, scratching at the leather, dropping farther, closing over his cock. A little moan that almost hurts to hear and Lex can't even be sure which one of them made the sound.

"...hard, Lex, God...."

Like it's such a fucking shock. Lex chokes back another badly-timed laugh and the hand around his cock's so good it hurts, sharp, too sharp, and Clark's teeth close over his ear too hard, and there's a wonderful chance Lex has been looking for this his entire life. Too much, too fast, blinding, and Clark makes a sound that isn't human, can't be anything close to human, convulsing inside him with a groan that shakes them both. Hot, fast rush inside, and Lex breathes out, shuddering almost as violently as Clark, unable to see anything but the incredible obscenity of their reflection in the mirror.

Naked, glistening golden boy wrapped around and buried deep around pale, bald, bleeding perversity.

Lex smiles bloody at his reflection and isn't surprised by the twitch of his cock.

Or by the way Clark grabs it and squeezes with an apparently reflexive possession. Conflicting urges to purr and flinch. Too soon for this and too late to stop it. Lex threads his fingers between Clark's own, urges him to loosen his grip. A little.

Moans at the flex of Clark's cock inside him and has to turn away from the mirror again.

"God, Lex... show me. Show me how you do it."

Nothing to do but nod, get a better grip on himself and Clark's hand and just -- go for it. Let his head fall back on that broad shoulder and enjoy the shallowness of his breaths, Clark's impossibly heavy gaze on their joined hands.

Stroking himself off for an audience.

Not the first time -- not even close -- but Clark makes it feel impossibly new. Like something invented just for them. Every little twist, every squeeze, every increase in speed something that's never been done before.

And it's true. Because this is their first time. And Lex knows himself well enough to know just how many federal and moral laws he'll be willing to break to make sure it won't be their last.

And God, Clark still inside him. Nestled in close, buried in tight, barely softening at all and matching Lex stroke for stroke and his vision's going hazy again.

Mind going hazy again, and he can't stop himself from rolling his head back and forth on Clark's shoulder. Harder to breathe, now, and every breath catches on a helpless little moan low in his chest that makes him flush despite himself.

"So sexy..."

Jerks at the sound of Clark's voice, and it's getting harder to keep a rhythm, harder to want to, but now Clark's holding him to it.

Not a tease so much as... he has no idea.

"Clark..."

Wet, sloppy kiss to his throat that turns to a suck and Clark lets them go faster, harder. Lex can't stop himself from pumping into the sweet tunnel of their fists and doesn't bother to try.

So good. So good.

"Wanna -- hear you." Clark's voice is thick, almost a growl, punctuated with a sharp bite that goes straight to Lex's cock. "Tell me how it feels." Little shudder in the big body against him, like he's feeling this too.

"Fuck you," Lex breathes, almost grinning, licking the taste of sweat off his mouth, laced with blood and, fuck, that only seems to be encouraging him. Clark groans, teeth digging into bruised muscle. Faster rhythm and it's just. Fucking. Unbelievable. "Good."

"More." Slick movement of warm lips, scrape of teeth beneath, fixing under his jaw and the sharp bite tightens up nerves already shot to hell. Lex's fingers tighten involuntarily and his cock jerks, and he's never, ever going to be able to not see this when he jerks off alone from now on.

Not that *that's* going to be a concern if he has his way.

"Good," he says again, and understatement's the only thing he can think. "Great. Bastard. You -- fuck -- know that. Feel it." Painful tightening of his body, so close he can feel it coming, any second now, just -- God, soon, or he'll go crazy. Completely unable to look away, watching Clark jack him with those casual flickers of his wrist, big fingers wrapped through his, cock sliding through, and that's --

"Can you fuck me next time?"

All the things it's going to do to him.

Consciousness eases back with a general report that he's not ever moving again. Carpet rough and blessedly not-moving against his body, hot skin wrapped around him like a blanket, and the slow, languorous awareness of Clark pulling out.

He's missing it already. Little hiss that he can't help, and Clark's fingers drop down, hesitating over super sensitized skin, petting gently like he's suddenly aware of the fact that most flesh really isn't' meant for that kind of activity for that long. Grinning, knowing it's going to kill him and not really caring, Lex stretches, rolling over, and God, it hurts, and God, it's good. So good. Years. He's going to feel this for years.

Gets a clear vision of bare, sweaty, flushed skin and worried eyes, swollen lips slightly parted, and Lex grins.

"Okay?" Clark asks, and that would be -- such an affirmative. Yes, okay. Fucking yes, okay. Fabulous, thank you. Toby's on speed dial three, go call him now. I want to do this again and I'm going to need him afterwards.

No, still not a good time to start laughing. Dammit.

Instead he reaches up, running his fingers across that impossibly soft mouth, and Clark nips his fingers, worry fading. "You look..."

"Incredibly well-fucked?"

And Lex can't believe Clark has the nerve to blush at that, much less give him that look through his lashes. "I was going to say 'good,' Lex."

"Kind of vague, don't you think?"

Clark rolls his eyes. Looks like he's considering giving Lex's fingers a considerably harder bite for a long moment before looking Lex over entire. Stopping at his cock, his belly, and his mouth before reaching his eyes.

Slow, sly smile. "So you're still taking that day off tomorrow, right?"

End.



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