Early To Rise

by Nestra


This arose out of a discussion with the PPO about cliche-fic. Thanks to shrift for beta and the PPO for listening to me whine.


The early morning sunlight spilled carelessly across Clark's skin, gilding it with a warm glow, and Lex froze in mid-step at the top of the stairs. Mrs. Kent had warned him that Clark had spent the night in the barn and might still be sleeping, but he hadn't expected this. The blanket Clark had draped over himself had been kicked off during the night, because Lex could see about three inches of blanket and about three feet of...skin. The nape of Clark's neck, turned towards him. Broad shoulders, bare back, and the curve of a hipbone peeking out from the waistband of Clark's gym shorts.

Lex wasn't in the habit of being up any time before eleven on Sunday mornings, but he clearly needed to reconsider that policy.

Clark shifted in his sleep and made a soft noise. Lex wondered how long he could stand there and simply watch him, and when his regard would cross the line from innocent to admiring to inappropriate. He felt like he should say something -- call Clark's name, or knock on the stair rail. Instead, he traced the shadows at the hollow of Clark's back with his eyes, watched the thin skin over his ribs stretch with slow breaths. He waited until he couldn't bear it any longer, and he took a tentative step forward.

A floorboard creaked under his weight, the slight sound echoing loudly in the Sunday morning stillness. Clark shifted again, rolling over on his back and turning his head towards the source of the noise. When he opened his eyes and saw Lex, a sweet, genuine smile spread across his face, and it made Lex ache.

"Hey," Clark said, his voice still drowsy.

"Hey," Lex replied, momentarily unable to think of any of the other words he knew. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to look at ease.

"What's going on?"

"I came over to see if you were okay. I didn't expect you to still be asleep. I thought you farm people got up with the crack of dawn every day to shovel manure."

"Dad let me out of shoveling manure this morning because of the thing yesterday with the homicidal herd of cats." Clark stretched, and Lex had to hold his breath. Muscles flexed and rolled under Clark's smooth skin, and the blanket slipped farther down his legs.

"So," said Lex, wondering if his voice was as husky as it sounded in his head, "you seem to be okay."

"Oh, yeah," said Clark. "I'm fine. Most of them were originally house cats, I think, so a lot of them had been declawed."

"Small mercies."

"What time is it, anyway?"

"A little after ten."

Clark seemed utterly unaware that he was conducting this conversation from a horizontal position. "I know you expected me to be awake, but isn't it a little early for you?"

Lex shrugged. "Early to bed, early to rise..."

"...makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise?" Clark finished.

"Two out of three, at least."

Clark's laugh warmed him, and prepared him for the flush that hit when Clark stretched a second time, lacing his fingers together and pressing them outward over his head. Lex's gaze slid across his body, from the fine dark hairs under his arms down to the tips of Clark's long toes, curling into the couch's arm. Clark was either totally unselfconscious, or much more devious than he looked.

But when Clark looked back at him, met his eyes without a hint of surprise, Lex realized that he was probably both.

"Clark," he said hoarsely, his throat clenched tight around this sudden discovery.

Clark hadn't moved, his arms still stretched out above his head. He blinked once, lazily, then untangled his fingers and crooked one at Lex. "Hey," he said. "Come here."

Lex inhaled, held the breath until it ached, and pushed it back out. "Don't you think we should talk about this?"

"No. I think you should come here."

"Jesus, Clark. Why aren't you nervous?"

"Who says I'm not?" Clark said, and Lex looked closer, and he could see the uncertainty underneath the invitation.

"Clark..."

Clark lowered his arms with a quick motion and turned on his side to face Lex. "I don't want to talk about it, because if we talk about it, we won't do it. You'll just argue yourself out of it."

Despite the tension digging into him, Lex smiled. "Maybe I wouldn't."

"You would," Clark insisted. "You know you would. You'd make it so complicated that you'd be afraid to do anything."

"It is complicated."

"It doesn't have to be."

Lex couldn't make himself accept that. There was no way anything with Clark would ever be anything but complicated. But on a bright spring morning, with sunlight pouring into the barn from every window and crack, he desperately wanted to believe in simplicity.

Clark was still watching him, waiting for him to decide. To choose. Lex swallowed to clear his throat, and said, "Turn over. On your stomach."

Clark's eyes widened a little, as if he hadn't really expected Lex to give in, but after a second's hesitation, he turned toward the back of the sofa and onto his stomach, laying his head on his arms. Lex found himself moving forward, step after step, each one a precise sound on the wood. And then he was there, dropping to his knees and reaching for the expanse of honey-colored skin.

Clark shivered at the first touch of Lex's fingertips, but remained otherwise still. Lex took that as license to continue, to feel the bumps of Clark's spine, detour down to outline his ribs, ruffle the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He brought up his other hand and traced parallel lines down Clark's back to the waistband of his shorts. He heard a slight hitch in Clark's breath, and the hips under his hand shifted restlessly. The hitch turned into a moan when Lex gave in to an irresistible urge and leaned down to kiss the small of his back.

When he touched Clark's skin with his tongue, it tasted clean. Simple. He felt it warm under the heat of his breath and his lips. He had to find out if the taste was the same everywhere, so he sampled Clark's bicep, his flank, between his shoulder blades, kissing and licking and biting as he went. Clark was moving constantly, his sides expanding and contracting as he panted.

"Lex..."

"Mmm?"

"Do I get to turn over at some point?" His tone was a mix of desperation and humor, and Lex smiled before winding his tongue through the hairs scattered across Clark's upper thigh.

"Lex..." There was more desperation that time, laced through a tone of voice he'd never expected to hear Clark use. He'd heard Clark concerned, angry, amused, frustrated, friendly, but never breathless with need. He gently dug his teeth into Clark's calf, ran a final hand down his back, and pulled away.

"Okay," he murmured.

When Clark turned over, Lex couldn't decide whether to focus on the bare chest or the obvious erection stretching his shorts. He compromised, laying a hand on Clark's cock and placing a sucking kiss on his stomach. A pleasant shock flashed through him when Clark wrapped his hand around the back of Lex's head. He leaned back into the caress, Clark's palm and fingers outlining the border between the moderate morning air and the heat radiating from Clark's hand.

Clark took advantage of his distraction and pulled Lex down for a clumsy kiss. Their lips met and slid, returned, and Clark opened underneath him like someone who'd been waiting too long. His mouth had the same taste as his skin, but amplified, sharp and shocking. His tongue pushed against Lex's, his hand on Lex's head pulling him closer and closer until Lex was draped halfway over him. His hand was still on Clark's cock, though, and he squeezed so he could feel Clark gasp into his mouth. He loved the sensation of Clark's helpless breath on his skin, so he did it again and again until Clark was whimpering and writhing underneath him.

He broke the kiss and leaned back, his hand stilling. Clark's eyes were tightly closed, and his neck was arched, and his mouth still gaped open. Lex wanted to watch him forever, to freeze him in this moment, this pose, so that nothing would ever dare to change.

Clark forced his eyes open and looked up at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Lex whispered. "Except...what about your parents? Will they come look for us?"

"I don't think so," Clark said, panting slightly. "They don't usually come up here."

"That's not very reassuring."

"I don't care, god, I don't care...please, Lex." Clark was rubbing against his hand and chanting his name like it belonged in a hymn. Lex reached up with his free hand and smoothed the dark hair back from Clark's forehead, and Clark turned his face into the caress.

"Okay, okay," he murmured soothingly, realizing that no matter what his better judgement insisted, there was no way he could deny Clark anything. "Lift up." With Clark's help, he pulled Clark's shorts down to his knees and wrapped his hand around Clark's naked cock. It was hot to the touch, flushed with blood. When he smoothed his fingers over the head, Clark jerked underneath him and cried out, and he couldn't think of doing anything other than bending down to take it in his mouth.

He set up a quick rhythm designed to relieve them both. Clark's hands curled around the back of his head, mindlessly tugging him down and thrusting up into Lex's mouth, rubbing against his tongue. Lex let himself be used, ceding control to Clark, applying all of his expertise to that one spot right underneath the head, ruthlessly working it with the flat of his tongue until Clark's fingers tightened and he came with a stifled yell.

Lex swallowed and wiped his mouth, then laid his head on Clark's heaving stomach. With his ear pressed against Clark, he could hear the faint echo of his heartbeat, which eventually slowed along with his breaths. Clark looked down at him, and Lex had to chuckle at the mindless satiation on his face.

"Don't laugh at me," Clark protested, without much energy.

"I'm not. You're just...unbelievable."

That earned him a shy smile. "Aren't your knees starting to hurt?"

"Yeah," he said, although they hadn't bothered him until that moment. Clark shifted underneath him, and Lex pulled away so Clark could tug up his shorts. Then Clark sat up and reached for him, meeting him with a kiss, lazy and slow. Lex ran his tongue along Clark's bottom lip and curled his hands into Clark's hair.

Lex was still hard, had been hard since before Clark had woken. He moaned into the kiss and rubbed himself shamelessly against Clark's leg, simultaneously easing and worsening the ache. He felt Clark smile before he pulled away and said, "Come up here."

Lex slid onto the couch between Clark's spread legs, and Clark turned him gently around so that he could feel the press of Clark's skin through the back of his shirt. And then Clark's hands were on him, undoing his belt, unzipping his pants, and slipping inside his boxers to pull out his cock.

He groaned with relief as Clark's long fingers danced over his cock, his touch confident. "God, that's so good...yeah..."

Clark's chuckle vibrated through both of them. "Well, I might have practiced on myself once or twice." He settled into a rhythm as lazy as his kiss had been, but constant, broken only when Lex brought Clark's hand to his mouth and licked the palm and fingers.

He felt his climax approaching almost too soon; he hooked his leg behind Clark's, let his head loll back against the shoulder behind him, and arched up into Clark's grip. "Tighter," he gasped. Clark increased the pressure, and his orgasm slammed into him and narrowed his world to Clark behind him, the couch under him, and the spikes of pleasure.

He felt Clark reaching out for something, which turned out to be a t-shirt that he used to clean his hand and Lex's cock. Then Clark was gently putting him back together, redressing him. Lex lay still and let himself be taken care of. He knew he should be thinking, planning, worrying about the consequences of what they had just done, but there would be time for worrying later.

In the meantime, he had Clark's arms around him, and the press of smooth lips against his temple, and Clark's sweet scent filling every breath he took. He closed his eyes against the sunlight and fell asleep.



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