Title: A Dick Hard
Spoilers: Are you kidding?
Disclaimer: These characters are owned by Millar/Gough and the WB. No profit is intended. If I owned them, I'd be far to busy, not to mention exhausted, to write this.
Web Site: http://www.geocities.com/meretsv/ Feedback: firstname.lastname@example.org
Summary: Clark tries to figure out Lex. Some humor, a little angst, and a lot of flirting.
My thanks to Reetchick and Tarchannon. The story is much improved by their suggestions.
A Dick Hard by Meret
"I'll have a Dick Hard. What do you want, Clark?" asked Lex.
" . . . "
"Clark? What do you want to drink?" Lex raised his voice above the pounding music.
"Oh. Um, I'll just have a Coke," he choked out. Clark hoped the poor lighting in the noisy club kept him from looking as incredibly dorky as he felt. Not to mention hiding his growing erection. Of course Lex had meant a drink. He was crazy to think anything else. He'd just been imagining things lately. Well, ever since he met Lex, really.
Lex handed him his Coke and led them to the landing of a side stairway that was marginally quieter than the bar area. Leaning his arms against the metal banister, Clark pretended to watch the sweaty, gyrating dancers below, while sneaking glances at Lex sipping his drink. He had on a black mesh shirt so tight Clark could see his nipples, and black leather pants with a lace-up fly that hugged his form snugly enough for Clark to know he wasn't wearing any underwear. He hadn't known they even made laceup fly's before tonight, but now all he wanted to do was undo the laces with his teeth.
And his tongue. Definitely his tongue.
The black made Lex's skin look luminous, as if Clark could warm himself by standing close enough. This was what it meant to describe someone as 'hot.' His whole body burned to touch him.
Lex caught him staring, and raised an eyebrow inquiringly. Busted! He fumbled for something to say. He'd been semi-speechless and semi-erect at the sight of Lex since he'd picked Clark up in his Ferrari tonight. "So, what's in a Dick Hard?" He winced at what his mouth had decided to say. Where was a psycho mutant to run after when you needed one?
Lex chose not to respond with any of the obvious replies, but smirked to let Clark know he was letting him off easy. "It's gin, vodka, rum and Sprite, garnished with lime," he said, raising his glass in illustration. "Do you want to taste?"
"Uh, sure," he said, turning to face Lex. Of course he did. He was cool. He was . . . sophisticated. He could swallow Hard Dicks, er, Dick Hards. He'd expected Lex to hand him the drink but instead, he held it up to Clark's mouth, cupping his face with his other hand to steady the glass. Clark froze, the glass resting against his lip. Looking at Lex, he slowly opened his mouth. He caressed the lip of the glass with the tip of his tongue, and Lex gently tipped in a small amount of the liquid. It was wet and fiery, exactly the way he'd imagined Lex tasted.
Lex stared at his mouth as if his eyes were a compass and Clark's lips were the North Pole. The pole part was right anyway. Clark was hard enough to pound nails, and he should know. He shivered as he felt the other man stroking his jaw lightly. It would be so easy to turn his head just fraction and lick Lex's hand, sliding his tongue through his fingers to caress the skin in between. So easy. The staccato music faded, drowned out by the sound of his heartbeat as the world narrowed to this one moment. Lex slowly lowered the glass and leaned in toward him, still staring at his lips. Clark closed his eyes, moving forward by instinct. He swallowed, then parted his mouth slightly and felt . . . nothing.
Opening his eyes, he saw Lex three feet away, breathing heavily. Clark stepped toward him, but Lex turned around abruptly and faced the railing. He quickly drained his glass and let out a shuddering sigh. "So, what did you think of the drink?"
Clark was confused, and not by the question. "It was okay, I guess." He wasn't imagining things that time. He knew he wasn't! What the hell was Lex doing?
"It's an acquired taste."
"I've never understood that. If something doesn't taste good, why continue drinking it enough to acquire a taste for it." He watched Lex tense up and wondered if he'd said something wrong. Frustrated, in more ways than one, he drank his Coke and tried to focus on the scantily clad people below.
Okay, enough is enough, he thought. He was finally confident enough, irritated enough, or just plain horny enough to make the first move. Time to take the bull by the horns as his father would say. Actually his father would probably say, 'What the hell are you thinking!' Loudly. Clark squirmed internally and made a mental note to himself - when you decide to seduce your male best friend, don't think about your father's reaction.
Lex broke the increasingly uncomfortable silence. "I never told you why I like gin, did I? When I was a small child I thought that gin must be what gave the Jinns in Arabian Nights their magic powers. I wasn't even old enough to read yet, Clark, so you can stop grinning. I wanted magic powers of my own, of course."
"Of course. And being the budding scientist even then, you had to test your theory, "
"Later, the doctor said I was lucky that it hadn't stayed in my system long enough to do any real harm."
"They had to pump your stomach?" he said with concern.
"No," Lex said, finally turning to face Clark.
Clark grimaced. "You mean . . ."
"Projectile vomiting. Better than Linda Blair."
One minute Lex looked like he was two seconds from kissing him. The next minute he was talking about puke! Was he trying to drive him insane? Clark wanted to groan, and not in a good way. Concentrate, he told himself. "So you like gin because it reminds you of being violently sick?"
"No, I like gin because it reminds me who I was violently sick on," he said, a smug expression on his face.
Uh-oh. "Let me guess. Your father?"
"Right in the face. I don't think he came near me for six months."
Ugh. He sort of sickly considered if Lex's father had had a beard back then as well. And more importantly what sort of parents left alcohol out for a child to get into. "I don't think the gin makers are going to be using that in their advertising campaign anytime soon," he joked weakly
"No, I wouldn't think so." Lex absently swirled the ice in his empty glass. "Do you want another Coke?" indicating Clark's nearly empty drink with a nod.
Clark squared his shoulders and stepped closer to Lex, deliberately invading his space. "Maybe I should try something harder." Lex froze. He reminded Clark of a cat spotting its prey, all coiled energy and hyper-alertness under a sleek surface.
"Then maybe you should order a Maiden Blush. It's cherry flavored," Lex said cautiously, as if asking a question.
"No." He shook his head definitely. "I'm tired of cherry." Clark willed him to understand so he wouldn't have to say it aloud, looking at Lex hard. Or hard Lex, he thought, sparing a quick glance down. Yes! He knew he wasn't imagining things.
Lex narrowed his eyes at Clark as if he were trying to decipher an unusually difficult chemical formula. "Then I'd recommend an Alexander. That is, if you're sure you want something harder."
Something eased inside of Clark that he hadn't even realized had been held tight, like a door suddenly giving way. "Don't tell me they named a drink after you?" he teased lightly.
Lex smiled in surprise. "No, but a gaming club in London did name a drink after my father. It's called a Magnificent Bastard. It was meant as an insult, but he liked it so much he orders one where ever he goes now."
Clark had never cared less about Lionel Luthor than he did right then. "So what's in an Alexander?" Could Lex's skin could possibly be as smooth as it looked? Was it softer behind his knees? In the crease of his thigh? What did his naked scalp feel like? What did it taste like?
Leaning over to be heard over a particularly loud song, Lex said, "It's gin, creme de cacao, and light cream with nutmeg on top."
The faint puffs of warm air against Clark's ear sent tingles down his spine that ended in his aching cock.
"It's pale and smooth, but with a kick that sneaks up on you. It coats your tongue and leaves a slightly bittersweet aftertaste," Lex said slowly, each word a caress. "I think you'd like it."
"Do you," Clark cleared his throat, "Do you have that stuff at your house?"
"I assume so. Why?" Lex tucked the tag down in Clark's shirt, brushing the skin underneath as he withdrew his hand.
The hairs on the back of Clark's neck stood up, along with everything else. "Will you teach me to make one. Now?" he asked, trying not to sound as if he was about 10 seconds from coming in his jeans. His whole body felt taut, as if he were stretching cell by cell towards something he hadn't been sure even existed before now.
"You want to learn how to make an Alexander? Thinking of becoming a bartender?" Lex gave him another searching gaze.
"No." he answered firmly, as sure of this as he was of anything in his life.
"Clark . . . are you ready--"
He reached into Lex's pants pocket quickly, not daring to linger as Lex inhaled sharply in reaction, and pulled out his car keys. Holding his hand up between them, he offered the keys on his palm.
Lex hesitated, then nodded and took the keys without breaking eye contact. "Let's go."
Clark had no interest in learning how to mix an Alexander. He put his hands in his pockets to furtively adjust himself, staring at the hypnotic movement of Lex's ass proceeding down the stairs in front of him. The leather stretched taut and then released with each step, each flex of muscle reflecting the lights in the club. But he absolutely wanted Lex to teach him to make a Dick Hard, he thought. Specifically - Lex's dick.
He was suddenly very thirsty.
Author's Notes: I have no idea who first referred to Lionel as a Magnificent Bastard, but it wasn't me.
Dick Hard - http://www.webtender.com/db/drink/3725 Maiden's Blush - http://www.webtender.com/db/drink/567 Alexander - http://www.webtender.com/db/drink/15
I have no idea what an Alexander tastes like. The recipe sounds slightly similar to a Kahlua and Creme which I have had, so I described that.
I can probably count on one hand the types of alcohol I've ever tried, so I just chose ingredients for symbolic reasons. This would most likely taste terrible, and with that garnish, might even kill you, so DON'T try this at home. In my mind though, this is the recipe for a Magnificent Bastard - scotch, sour mix, some bitters, grenadine to make it blood red, a splash of raspberry juice, served over ice, with a sprig of hemlock as garnish.
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