by Hope

For Tham, who deserves better than to be
grading papers alla time; and for LaT, who thinks Lex doesn't get nailed nearly enough. Who am I to disagree?

"She asked enough questions about his random disappearances-not a comma, a period, jeez- he didn't need to court more." Clark tossed a neatly-bound sheaf of papers onto the floor and leaned over to lick Lex's arm. His skin was a contradictory palette of flavors: a bitter taste of cigar smoke- meetings today, obviously, a hint of spicy, sharp just Lex beneath it. Tattooing the curve of his shoulder with the tip of his tongue, Clark finished his lingual exploration with a long slide up his throat, coming to rest just behind his ear. With a nip, and a quick flicker against the lobe, he sighed. "I hate grading papers."

Lex turned his paper to read beneath the fold. "My offer still stands." They'd already covered this topic in its entirety: yes, Clark really had applied for financial aid. Yes, he really had accepted it, and no, he really wasn't going to let Lex pay it off. Consequently, Lex had very little in the way of sympathy when it came to Clark yanking his curls straight over his work study in the English department.

Dangling participles, misplaced modifiers, and this week, for variety, comma splices, had become Clark's archnemeses. No meteorites required- the green stuff had nothing on good, old-fashioned freshman comp. He searched the sheets for his pen, all the while casting sullen looks in Lex's direction. When he was rewarded with silence, Clark frowned and turned back to his papers. "A wave of homesickness eddied beneath his skin- PERIODcapital T the blare of the city outside his window jarred against memories of crickets and the wind through trees."

He could still taste Lex. He could smell him. If he closed his eyes, he could feel body heat, and hear the steady whisper of Lex's breath, and all of those senses were way more appealing than the sight of another paper in 15 point Comic Sans (to stretch the page count, like nobody'd notice,) about 'my best friend, my dog Indigo.'

"I'm making a rule," Clark said as the stack of ungraded papers hit the floor. Just a breath after they landed, he was on top of Lex. The newspaper disappeared in a flurry of grey and black snow, and Clark buried his face in the warm curve of Lex's throat. Running his tongue along the hard line of Lex's jaw, he washed away the taste of cigar smoke, then murmured, "No more working in bed."

What might have been a protest stretched into a moan when Clark worked his fingers around Lex's wrists to pin him to the bed. Just a little thing, one that made Lex's lashes fall and his mouth soften- Clark had never really gotten the hang of props, but he didn't really need handcuffs when he could just hold Lex down. Besides, it was nicer that way: feeling the tendons and muscles working beneath his palms, feeling him arch beneath him and get hard at the first squeeze.

The arching worked for Clark. When Lex pressed his head back against the pillow, it bared his throat, revealing long tendons flexing, an adam's apple to dip with a swallow Clark bit one side of his throat, then the other. Flesh soft beneath his teeth, Clark marked it just a little, reddish arcs that faded as he moved down to lick his collarbone. Crooked near his spice-freckled shoulder from being broken, it was another delicious flaw like the silver scars that marked his mouth.

Sinking down, Clark parted Lex's legs with his knee. Hard heat, the outline of Lex's cock against his thigh, Clark pressed into him and earned another soft hiss. Glancing up through his brows, Clark smiled then rubbed a trail with his mouth toward one dark nipple. This skin was sweeter, unmarred by the taste of smoke- clean and spiced, warm when it fluttered beneath his mouth with each breath Lex took. Across the rise of pecs, and down along the tip of his sternum, Clark traced complicated patterns with the tip of his tongue until he found the rise of his nipple. He blew a cool breath on it before covering it with his mouth, sucking it slowly and watching Lex's face tighten. With each pull, the nipple hardened, until he could rasp his tongue around the edge of it, and tug it gently between his teeth.

Clark swallowed a groan when Lex fought against his grip again. Under his thumbs, he could feel his pulse racing Lex's; hard, fast drives that spread heat and ache and want between them on a current. Squeezing, Clark dragged his thumbs along the inside of Lex's wrists, tempting him to struggle, teasing him with the promise of being able to escape before clamping down again. Most of the time, Clark enjoyed letting Lex run rampant on his body- good things came from late night meetings that left him smelling like aggression- but the rare treat of a trapping him, holding him down, spread like a drug through him. He couldn't get drunk, he couldn't get high, but he could make Lex twist and thrust against him helplessly; he could make him cage raw sounds deep in his throat that Lex only thought sounded controlled.

Running the underside of his tongue against the nipple, Clark glanced up again and caught a bluesilver streak of Lex's gaze through parted lashes. Another flash of teeth pressed into the sensitive skin and Lex dropped his head on the pillow. "Fuck, Clark, are you trying to kill me?"

Rather than answer with words, Clark trailed wet, sucking hisses down his side, stopping to flutter his tongue against the ticklish spot just beneath his last rib. Weighed down, all Lex could do was exhale frustrated laughter, and twist beneath him, a motion that managed to rub his cock harder against Clark's thigh, spreading a warm, sticky spot of precum into the silk separating flesh from flesh. Frustrated laughter fell to plain, simple frustration, as Lex's fingers worked against the sheets, pulling them until the fabric creaked.

Sliding down between Lex's legs, Clark barely had to stretch to keep his grip, though leverage was technically on Lex's side now. To make sure he forgot that particular bit of science, Clark bit Lex's waist, then trailed his tongue along the waistband of the pajama bottoms. His scent was sharper here, something warm and musky, and Clark breathed him in as he slipped up to tongue the dip of his navel. Lex on his tongue, in his lungs, Clark rubbed his cheek against the hitching flat of his belly before sinking to outline the shape of his cock through the pajamas. A different kind of friction, he caught the delicate fabric between his teeth and tugged it tight; shying away when Lex raised rolled his hips as a hint.

Silk made a good toy; Clark rubbed his lips against it, transferring heat with each frictionless glide. Lex pulled against his hands when he did that, but his fingers clawed hard into the bed when Clark mouthed the head of his cock through it. Bittersweet precum spread across Clark's tongue, just a hint, just a tease, and his own cock ached when Lex tried to push deeper into his mouth. Reedy breaths whispered through the air, punctuated with unarticulated curses when silk denied a deeper stroke, and that crossed the line for Clark, the one between torturing Lex and torturing himself. He let go of one wrist long enough to tug the pajamas down, feeling Lex's fingers brush against his hair in their momentary freedom. Clark skimmed his lips against the tight, ginger curls wild at the base of Lex's cock, and reached up to catch his hand again. Struggling against the grip, Lex's quiet curse ceded to a formless moan when Clark guided his hand back to his hair, letting go only when Lex had laced his long fingers through it.

Almost gentle, Clark traced the underside of Lex's cock with his fingers, then stroked it into his mouth, down as far as he could go and covering the rest with a tight grasp. Lex tasted like sex now, no other way to describe the slick, sharp flavor of him weighing down on his tongue. Smelled like it too, and Clark could hear his heart beating with it, too. Stuttered pulses competed with uneven breaths, and Clark savored the way Lex's entire body tightened. Barely any pressure at all, Clark swirled his tongue along the ridge of Lex's cockhead, then sank down again to draw contrary slides until Lex shook and twisted his fingers in his hair.

Following the curve of Lex's cock, Clark skimmed the head across the roof of his mouth, a hard, rolling glide that he soothed with soft lips when he pulled back again. Sheathing his teeth behind those lips, Clark sank down, taking him so deep he couldn't draw a breath.When he rose, a knot of pressure hardened between his shoulders as he picked up a slow, hard rhythm, swaying each time he filled his mouth with him. Heat in his mouth, heat on his skin, Clark wove his fingers through Lex's, pulling against them for balance, to deepen his strokes. Everything narrowed; everything beyond the bed, much past Lex's low, encouraging murmurs and the slide of wet mouth on slick cock, ceased to exist.

The room was full of sounds now: hard breaths and groaning bedsprings, rustling sheets and soft, wet suckling sounds that melted into groans when Clark teased the slit with the tip of his tongue. Fingers tightened in his hair, and Clark sucked harder, faster, all the way down, all the way up, mouth filled with bittersweet, nose filled with the sharp scent of salt-sweat and sex. Clark felt Lex tighten, long muscles stretched taut and shaking, fingers tearing at his hair. Taking half a breath, Clark sank down as far as he could go, coppery curls tickling his nose as his fingers spread through them to wrap around the base of Lex's cock. With one good squeeze, Clark tasted thick, hot iron in his mouth, and heard nothing but the guttural explosion of his name mingled with curses.

Clark didn't swallow, carefully pulling away and spreading Lex's thighs with his broad shoulders, Smoothing his balls out of the way, Clark delved lower, parting his lips to slick cum against Lex's hole, darting with his tongue, skimming against the rippled flesh and trying to slip inside. He couldn't get in deeper, bad position, maybe another night, so he raised his head and lapped a wide stripe inside his own palm. So much for subtle, or slow, Clark's cock swelled when he stroked over it, a quick, frictionless slide that demanded something more, something tighter, hotter, something he could have by sliding up between Lex's thighs.

Clark rubbed the head of his cock along the cleft until he caught against the soft depression if Lex's ass, and then he pressed. Slow, incremental pressure as he smoothed his sticky hands up Lex's sides, barely feeling him hitch with shallow breath and anticipation. Brow furrowed with concentration, Clark pushed with slow, careful thrusts- into him, deeper into him, until hard muscles parted for him and surrounded his cock with stark heat. Now it was just a matter of more; a longer slide wrapping him in a tight grasp; another that buried him balls-deep and left him gasping for control. He thought about the passive voice, independent clauses, and non-restrictive elements until he caught his breath and Lex's wrists again. Glancing up through his lashes, he smiled just a little when he saw Lex's mouth caught between agony and ecstasy.

Pinning Lex's wrists down on either side of his shoulders, Clark sank down to steal a kiss. Reasonably, he knew he risked being bitten when he thrust his tongue past Lex's lips, but it wouldn't hurt, and he liked Lex's useless retaliations when he found himself not entirely in control. No bite, though, just a chasing swirl, silk against velvet as Clark slowly fucked his mouth, rocking his body in gentle time to match the long tastes. Slow returned as a possibility; if he kept kissing him like this, and just rolling his hips to grind in him, rather than stroke, and if he thought about ice cream in Alaska and subject-verb agreement and...

"Why'd you stop? I thought you wanted to fuck me."

And if Lex didn't say things like that, with all the consonants cut off, and the vowels sharpened to hooks. One long draw, and Clark plunged into him, still theoretically in control, feeling Lex's wrists twist beneath his hands, sinking in even deeper when Lex rolled his hips to meet the stroke. Clark caught glimpses of him: flashes of pale skin, and silver eyes turned gunmetal grey, and his perfect, broken mouth spreading with a wicked smile. Lex's smooth cheek brushed against his, and Clark whimpered when a flash trace of tongue and teeth skimmed against his ear.

Lex filled him up with words, black whispered questions he couldn't answer, that Lex made him answer by wrapping his ankles around Clark's and forcing his strokes shallow. "You like fucking me, don't you, Clark?"

"Lex, come on..."

Another sharp bite, another pleasant sting that ran straight to Clark's cock, Lex's voice rolled across his skin, evenly amused. "Say it."

Clark bit the tip of his tongue, and squeezed Lex's wrists, trying to remind himself that he was the one on top, he was the one holding Lex down; he shouldn't be the one whimpering and begging, but he heard himself do both when Lex bit the curve of his throat hard. "I like fucking you, all right? Please?"

The pressure on his ankles lifted, and he slammed into Lex, choking on a moan at all that endless heat squeezing his cock. Everything fast and hard and deep, he stroked into him again and again, the sound of flesh against flesh drowned out by the cadenced strike of the headboard meeting the wall. Spice and cum mingled with sweat in his mouth; words mingled with hoarse breath and moans in his ear, and he fell with stuttered thrusts bereft of rhythm. Everything went black, Clark shuddered with the wrenching jolt that rolled through him, feeling slick-stickytight and fire before he collapsed on his forearms, breathing back his own breath against the curve of Lex's throat.

Tangled up and still loosely holding Lex's wrists, Clark managed to find some reserve of strength through the sleepy haze descending on him to slip his fingers through Lex's. He could sleep like this, spread across Lex's chest, buried inside him, listening to the beat of his heart, but eventually Lex pressed a kiss behind his ear, and murmured, "Move."

Laughing softly, Clark commanded his muscles to work again; he extricated himself with a groan and rolled onto his back. Dropping a hand down the side of the bed, he fished around for a towel he was pretty sure he'd abandoned there earlier. "I love you, too."

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