Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

by Hope


How can I resist a fellow smoker trying to break the habit? This is for Thamiris.


Yesterday

Clark came to him damp with sweat. Nothing fresh or dewy about him, he smelled like he'd been working. Musk and salt, clinging to golden skin he allowed Lex to taste as they knelt, face to face. Offering up his throat for worship, Clark caught Lex's pale hands and laced their fingers together. His sculpted body moved with a strange grace, one that came from knowing Lex's bed almost as well as he knew his own. He closed his eyes, electricity humming just beneath his skin- sparking dark nipples to peaks, raising his cock to a hard, swaying arch.

Falling back, legs splayed in wanton invitation, Clark watched Lex sink down- still bound by their hands, to trace a hot line along the inside of his thigh. The flicker pink of Lex's tongue traced tender skin in odd designs, secret patterns of possession and need.

Good wine of flesh, Clark tasted of sweat and sweetness, an overripe berry in the sun; his scent stronger in the dark curls that coiled around the base of his cock, and Lex savored a faint smile when he gasped and shifted toward him. Urging, pleading for an indulgence, Clark's soft sounds spoke of mouths and teeth and heat, and things Lex had no intention of giving him.

Shaking fingers free, Lex stroked Clark's waist, his long, patrician fingers skimming the rise of Clark's hip. Lex taunted with near-kisses, brushing his lips in a soft caress along the length of Clark's cock, just enough to give him the impression that he might get what he asked for, only to sink back down again and breathe lazy, hot breaths through the curls again. He could taste his trembling, the wave of soft, hissed exhalations woven into the air.

Lex glanced up through his brows, gritting his teeth when Clark squeezed his hand, feeling the knuckles go white and ache with pressure. Something special for someone perfect, who didn't seem to have a breaking point, who welcomed him eagerly with soft pants and rising hips. Lex smoothed his hand over the side of the bed, watching, mouthing the peach-fuzz rounds of Clark's balls as he pulled a tube of lubricant from between the mattresses.

Today

Working at his desk, Lex isn't expecting anyone. Crimson, green and purple dance over his paperwork, the sun caressing color through the stained glass windows behind him. Long figures of numbers, added, divided, multiplied, he makes a list of all the things he'd rather be doing. Driving fast. Drinking scotch. Combining unstable chemicals with other unstable chemicals. Fucking Clark. Not necessarily in that order.

He smiles, getting nothing done. Tapping his pencil against the column of expenses, he skims his tongue between his teeth, closing his eyes to taste the memory of Clark on his tongue, his cries still echoing a day later. A two-second reverie to sweeten his afternoon, it's gone as quickly as it came. Very disciplined, Lex, turning his attention back to work, endless work, until the pages ruffle under his fingers.

Starting to lift his head, he's caught under a hard kiss. Still berry-ripe, Clark's tongue plunges past his lips with hungry familiarity. It happens so fast, Lex doesn't try to examine it, Clark not here, Clark here now, the only thing that matters is getting another deep taste of him, fuck the numbers. He tries to leverage himself, gripping the arms of the chair, but Clark is fast. Relentless, he pushes him back down and takes his mouth again.

No innocent, not anymore, Clark knows to bite Lex's lower lip to tame him, he knows that Lex doesn't mind when their teeth occasionally clash. He tastes like spiced fire, slick and wet and warming like worn leather beneath his hands. Clark could pick him up, but it's more interesting to push him, stalking the chair back each time he delves between his lips, hooking a finger in the collar of Lex's watery silk shirt, and yanking. One button, two, mother of pearl disks disappearing underneath furniture and into dark crevices, never to be seen again.

Real leather, a belt, breaks easily, even expensive clasps bending under his touch, and he has Lex pushed back so far in the chair he's nearly supine, definitely helpless, not that Lex wants help. Oh no, no help, don't even close the damned door, Lex's lashes flutter as Clark tosses aside the remains of his belt. He leans his head back, hard, his smooth scalp clinging to the chair as he swallows a groan. It tightens in his throat when Clark pays scant attention to his chest, except for plastering his hand against it to hold him down. Going down, his strawberry lips are already curved to swallow him, and it's his turn to watch through brows, Lex's turn to melt for his pleasure.

Tomorrow

They'll both ache tomorrow, which will make it easy to trade lazy kisses in the dark. Hands will stroke in the dark, Clark's over Lex's strong, lean frame, Lex's to map Clark's sculpted back. Without light, they'll see with touch, memorizing lips they already know with languorous passes of tongue. Flavors will mingle, and scents will rise to fill the room, the incense for their altar. They'll move slow, tangling close with heavy limbs, slick skins sticking together, passing senseless whispers back and forth on their tongues.

With gentle, patrician hands, Lex will push Clark onto his back, maybe catching just a hint of moonlight on Clark's perpetually surprised face. Carved out of marble, and brought forth to flesh, Clark will be handsome in the night, trusting eyes wide open when Lex sinks down for another kiss. Their mouths will meet, burnishing caresses that will worship instead of ravish, and Lex will tie him down not with cords, but with his weight. He'll smooth his arms beneath that Michelangelo back, his cock sliding against Clark's in indolent shimmers, and lean down to kiss him again.

Damp curls will cling to Clark's forehead, and he'll trace the part of Lex's lips with his tongue, to draw him down. His broad, farmer's hands, strangely smooth, will follow the waves of Lex's spine, swirling and stroking to the small of his back, then back up. They'll have time, quiet lies fed to the appropriate ears, an entire night, and they'll make the most of it. Shifting, thighs will rub together, and toes will tangle in cool cotton sheets; with no need to rush, they'll twist and lift, fall and bow to find new angles of lips and tongues, deeper kisses silky with an unhurried pace.

Tomorrow night will have no need of props or perversions, nothing hard, nor fast; it'll be needless, and endless, Lex wrapping his fingers around Clark's shoulders to pull himself to slide, the concave curve of his stomach gliding the convex curve of Clark's ribs. Their bodies will match, intricate puzzleworks made to fit together, that will fit together, but not until they've searched flesh and bone, every plane and angle with lingering kisses. They'll have all night, and they'll know better than to waste it.

Yesterday

An almost-sugared scent competed with Clark's musk as Lex dipped another long, strong finger inside him. Fingering was easy, he parted to a single finger with a sigh, and Lex just watched. Watched Clark's face when he slid around the puckered hole, stroking, then sinking back inside, deep to the knuckle. Clark looked like an angel, dirtied and pleased when Lex drew all the way out again to meld the first finger, with another. Two deep inside, past clutching muscles into silk

Nearly tame, Lex took his time, delving inside to find the fleshy rise that would make Clark squirm, licking the sharp rise of Clark's hip, still watching. Always watching, feeding on intense flickers of concentration across a blush mouth, the way his dark lashes fell to half before opening wide again with a particularly deep stroke. When he pulled out again, Clark's brows knit, and he spread his legs, sliding down to nudge against unfurled fingers. He didn't have to speak, don't stop was carved in the tension arching him, painted in the glitter-shift of his eyes to beg him back.

Clark was never careful when it came to wishes, and Lex pressed his teeth into his hip, devouring his expression when two fingers became three. Sinking into him, easy and slow, making him bend with a sharp gasp, and Lex stopped to let him breathe. In and out until Clark clutched at his free hand again, squeezing to beg again, and he granted his wish, making him twist with a slow glide that spread him wider and wider. Sink and curve, curling fingers, then smoothing them flat, Lex tasted a sharper flavor in the air; sweat mingled with lube mingled with raw, almost frightened sex too sharp to abandon just yet.

But there was grace when Lex drew back again, swirling his tongue over Clark's hip, bass whispers to creep up in the dark, "Do you want me to stop?"

The sheets rustled with Clark's writhing squirm, only a moment's hesitation before he lifted his head enough to shake it. His lips formed around words, but sound never quite met them, just making encouraging shapes that hardened to a startled O when another finger, fourth, bundled with the rest delved into him. That was the expression Lex had been waiting for: high cheekbones slapped with a splotchy flush, pale eyes grown dark and brows curved to high arches. Startled. Stunned. Longing.

Clark dragged his lower lip through his teeth and fell back in the sheets, rasping desperation sounds as he clutched Lex's hand.

Today

Even on his knees, even with Lex's cock gliding over his tongue to press into his throat, Clark feels powerful. Not strong, he's always been strong, but powerful- fully clothed and keeping Lex's knees spread around his shoulders, he likes the bitter slickness of pre-cum that spreads over his tongue, to catch and linger in the back of his throat. He pulls his lips back over his teeth and squeezes hard, slicking down the length of Lex's cock again and again in smooth strokes, and yeah, it's easy to feel powerful when Lex is pale and nude and splayed out in an office chair like a beckoning Bacchus.

Clark doesn't have to hold him down anymore, he can use his hands to lift his hips, arching him off leather and pulling him deeper into his mouth. He closes his eyes, inhaling Lex's spice, only vaguely aware of the sheen of sweat tracing down the back of his neck. This is a speed of another kind, fast enough to wrench curses from Lex's lips, but not fast enough to finish him. It's petty revenge for the night before, but it's fair: pleasure for pleasure, measure by measure, humming sweet sounds to himself as he goes all the way down.

Ginger curls tickle his nose, and Lex's cock swells in the back of his throat, so hard beneath silk skin, so hot and heavy on his tongue. So good. So good to hear the pop of manicured nails skittering along the armrests, to feel wiry muscles stretching taut beneath him, so far away from control, it's merely a concept now.

He pulls back, grasping the base of Lex's cock and looking up in time to catch a perturbed frown mar Lex's lips. Dusky gothic arches already split on one side with a scar, the shadowed hint of teeth drawn back to demand only feeds Clark's power. He can make him wait, but he has his own itch. Not just the tight press of his cock in his jeans, it's more a need, deep beneath his skin, to make Lex lose his voice to hoarse screams. It's only fair, and as Clark wraps his fingers tighter around his cock, he strokes, sliding up as he works his shoulders beneath his legs. He lifts him, parts him, then trails his tongue in a mirror glide, beginning the way Lex had by tasting his thigh.

Closing his eyes, Clark makes a point of his tongue, painting a pearl string of hot tastes until he reaches the rippled flesh between his legs. With a single, fluttering taste, Lex arches, raising his ass to his mouth, thrusting into his hand with uncoordinated rhythm. No, no control at all now, that's all Clark's, and he savors it as he laps reactive flesh. He tastes dark, like earth after a storm, the flavor richer when he sinks into the hole to fuck him with his mouth. Hand on his cock, mouth on his ass, Clark doesn't even have to look at Lex's face to know he owns him.

Tomorrow

When Lex finally sinks into Clark, it'll be because neither of them can stand to be apart anymore. Tangled up in sweaty sheets, their bodies won't permit separation, Clark will need him inside, Lex will need to be there, and they'll move at once. Intimate with lingering kisses, Lex will part his lips, keeping them pressed gently against Clark's as he positions himself, and they'll move at once. Another kiss that's more breath than anything else, and Clark will breathe into Lex when Lex slides into him.

A whole new life, they'll close their eyes tight at once, then open them in tandem. New wheat green will reflect hazy winter blue, and they'll forget. Everything, everyone, their world will collapse to the heat halo surrounding them. Clark will trace his fingers down Lex's face, teasing between their lips to feel them warm and soft on his fingertips. He'll kiss him through his fingers, tasting his skin, then Lex's mouth, and he'll sigh.

Rolling beneath him like a wave, Clark's chest will ache- his heart pounding in slow motion, a tightness constricting his breath. For all the games they play, this will be what they remember: gazing into each other's eyes, their bodies matched with steady glides. Lex will steal kisses, their lips clinging when he pulls away, only to meet again in a soft press. His muscles will burn, knees dug into the mattress to push into Clark, but he'll never close his eyes. Not when they have all night. Not when they can really look at each other.

They'll share murmurs, fingers will shift through hair, and over smooth skin, Clark will stroke Lex's back in a kneading caress, and turn his face to keep his eyes on Lex. They'll be the same as they always are; the same textures, the same tastes- their voices will weave together in familiar cries and moans, their backs will strain and sweat will gather between their shoulders, but it will be different because they have all night, and for once, they won't be able to lie. Stripped down beyond skin, Lex will bury himself in Clark, and for once, nothing will matter.



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