Advanced Fruit

by Bexless

Written as an answer to the Rub It Til It Breaks Challenge. My undying gratitude to JacynRebekah and Ghini Tynant for beta. Feedback is squeed and drooled over.

Clark had spied a bowl of peaches on the low table earlier, and he reaches up for one now.

"Where do you get peaches this time of year, anyway?" he wonders, settling back down on the rug to face Lex.

"Oh, a little exotic paradise known as Florida," says Lex, his grin soft in the firelight. He rolls onto his side; head propped on one hand and eyes slightly hazy with the wine he's been drinking. He watches Clark bite into the peach. It's soft, and Clark's hand becomes an immediate mess.

"Hm." Clark stretches and hooks his foot behind Lex's calf. "Here." Lex shifts further into their tangle of limbs until he's just inches away from head to toe. Clark rolls closer still and feeds him a sticky-sweet piece.

Lex keeps his eyes open when his lips close around Clark's fingers, but just barely, and they flutter shut when he swallows and says, "Nice." There's juice on Clark's fingers until Lex catches his hand. "You know," he murmurs, "the peach is the Chinese symbol of longevity and good luck."

Clark's stomach tightens as Lex licks his index finger clean. "Oh yeah?"

"Mmm-hmm." Lex looks up at him as he sucks kisses to his palm. "And they're mentioned in literature as early as 79 AD."

"Is there anything you don't know?" Clark tries for teasing but his voice is high and rough in his throat. It's no surprise, with Lex catching the tips of his fingers in open-mouthed kisses.

Lex smiles, and his teeth look sharp but his tongue is soft, and wet when Lex swirls it over the pad of Clark's thumb. "There's plenty."

Clark opens his mouth, maybe to answer, but it comes out as a shaky gasp when Lex licks a long stripe down to his wrist. A drop of juice streaks down Clark's forearm, trying to hide from Lex's tongue in the crease of his elbow. Clark straightens his arm so Lex won't miss it.

Lex bites at the soft skin there. "They were brought to America by the earliest Spanish explorers," he adds, leaning up to lick at Clark's chin. "You have juice here, too,"

"I thought you studied Biochemistry at college, not Advanced Fruit." Clark folds his leg over Lex's, making sure he doesn't try to get up and wander around dramatically the way he usually does when he's explaining all the weird things he says. But Lex doesn't, he just laughs and closes his teeth over Clark's lower lip. Clark is too hot now, and he feels his temperature kick up another notch every time Lex bites down and tugs, just this side of gentle.

The kiss that follows is anything but gentle and Clark's head spins a little. Lex's hands are everywhere at once; fingers undoing buttons and nails scraping a hard line of pleasure down his spine. Clark feels his knees going liquid and he's really glad they're already lying down until he remembers that they're on the floor in the den, not in bed in the privacy of Lex's bedroom.

"Lex," he says into Lex's mouth. "Lex, wait."

Lex makes a protesting sound and rolls Clark onto his back. "No talking. Kissing."

Clark laughs around the kiss. Lex's mouth is sweet and hot like sun-warmed peaches, and Clark sucks at his tongue for more. "The staff," he breathes when Lex releases him.

"The staff won't come in here." Lex seems very sure about this, throwing the comment over his shoulder as he sits and reaches onto the table.

"You're sure? I mean what if we get all naked, and-" Clark stops when Lex turns back around. It's weird how the sight of a little glass bottle in Lex's hands can turn him on more than your average porno.

Lex cocks his head to the side thoughtfully, setting the bottle down on the floor. "So it's not so much the delicto that bothers you as the in flagrante part?"


Lex rolls back on top of him. His thigh slides warm and solid between Clark's own and then Lex sits up, grinning down at him in a way that's very much Emperor of All He Surveys. "You don't have a problem with sex in here, so much as the naked sex in here." He starts flicking open the remaining buttons on Clark's shirt. Lex's own shirt is unbuttoned too, which is weird since Clark doesn't remember doing that.

"Well," says Clark, "no. That would be stupid. You kind of have to be naked to achieve the whole sex...thing. Right?"

Lex laughs, which is one of Clark's favourite things ever and he finds himself grinning along. The smile falters when Lex opens the glass bottle and braces himself on Clark's shoulder with one hand. With his free hand he drizzles oil onto the visible stripe of skin on Clark's chest. It pools in the hollow there and Lex trails his fingers through, ending the oil spilling down Clark's sides, slick little rivulets running down inside his shirt. Lex draws patterns in the oil; his fingers are covered in it by the time he reaches Clark's waistband. The oil smells like peaches. "You've given me an idea," he says, low, playful, and completely irresistible.

"I," Clark begins, but then his words turn into a moan because Lex's body is suddenly flush against his own. He pushes impatiently at Clark's shirt, rolling them onto their sides and throwing one leg over Clark's hip.

"If anybody comes in," mutters Lex, his eyes closed as he moves in a fluid grind that makes Clark's insides turn to goo, "we'll tell them we're wrestling. That's a healthy activity for two young men to enjoy together, right?"

Clark gasps out a laugh and Lex takes his mouth again, his tongue sliding deep and rhythmic, in time with those hips that are going to make Clark lose his mind. Lex rides Clark like a wave, moving in ways that should be illegal and probably are. Clark realises dimly that he's moving too, fucking against Lex's hip and making these wild little noises that are probably more appropriate when there's a lot more nudity involved. Lex is making noise too, though, and he groans into Clark's mouth when Clark gets his arm around Lex and pulls them even closer. There's something illicit about what they're doing, so reminiscent of all those times on the couch in Clark's loft or up against the door in Lex's office, terrified and thrilled at the possibility of discovery. It was all about time then, there was never enough and even though Clark knows there's no hurry now, the urgency of the memories hits him like a freight train and he shudders hard, full-body, loving Lex's incoherent moan when he does so.

Lex rips his mouth away from Clark's and his head goes back, one hand clamped to the back of Clark's neck and the other clawing at his back like Lex thinks he can get through the flannel. Who the hell decided to name this 'dry humping'? It isn't, not when Clark is so wet and slick everywhere, Lex sliding over him like the oil on his skin and breathing like he's run a marathon. It's a beautiful sight, Lex flushed and out of control and this crazy grin on his face that no one ever sees but Clark.

There's oil everywhere, soaking through the fine cotton of Lex's white shirt and although it's frustrating to have fabric between them, Clark would bet money on Lex winning every wet T-shirt contest EVER. Clark's own shirt is pushed back off his shoulders, his chest shiny and slick. Every time Lex arches his back their skin meets with a sound like a kiss, one of the really hot, really deep, really wet ones when Clark is too far gone to give a damn about anything resembling technique. He's getting that way now, and the oil is like peaches but it's not the same as the real thing, and Clark rolls Lex onto his back so he can lick the taste from his mouth.

Lex wraps his leg up high around Clark's hip and makes this strangled little whimpering noise, his arms wrapped around Clark's neck and his whole body stretched out tense underneath him. Clark grinds down into Lex, pulling his knee up to the side to get more pressure where he needs it. From the sound Lex makes it's clear he's not alone, and while the rhythm his hips are setting is nothing as smooth as Lex could probably manage, it's fast and it's hard and it's more than enough to send heat flooding through his spine. Somewhere inside Clark's head, he thinks that the naked thing wouldn't have been such a bad idea. Then he'd be feeling smooth Lex skin all over instead of denim and cotton and wool between them, but his vision's starting to go cloudy and stopping would not a good thing, right now. Lex is going crazy underneath him, rocking up hard into Clark, his heel digging into Clark's thigh and urging him closer, faster, and all the other words that are dancing through Clark's foggy mind.

"Clark," Lex says, and it sounds like there was supposed to be more but then he pulls Clark's head down and kisses him, hard, biting down on his tongue and shaking underneath him as he comes, convulsing in Clark's arms and shouting into his mouth.

It doesn't take long before Clark follows him over the edge, yelling something senseless into Lex's neck, his hands balled up into fists on the floor either side of Lex's head. Lex's arms come up around him and Clark just lies there, Lex hissing quietly when an aftershock ripples through him.

"Well," says Lex, and he sounds kind of stifled, so Clark slides off him and collapses onto Lex's chest, "that was a slightly less acceptable activity than wrestling."

"Mmm." Clark looks up at Lex, and snickers when he sees that Lex is still wearing his crazy grin. "But it was a lot more fun."

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Bexless

Also, why not join Level Three, the Smallville all-fic list?


Level Three Records Room