It takes him a moment to get his bearings. A bed, not his own, and there's somebody beside him.
"You're in my room," Clark whispers into the back of his neck.
"I knew that," Lex says, and he did.
"You fell asleep while I was working. I didn't want to wake you."
Clark's bed is a twin, not meant for two people, and the two of them are crowded and not quite comfortable, despite what Lex suspects are Clark's best efforts to the contrary.
He stretches his legs and says, "Did you finish the paper?"
"Most of it. Just a couple more paragraphs to go for tomorrow."
Lex rolls to the edge of the bed and sits up. His clothes are all rumpled; he still has his shoes on. He checks his watch. "It's a little late for dinner."
"Are you hungry?" Clark says, and Lex looks back at him. Clark smiles a mouthful of teeth and shifts, bringing his arms above his head and stretching. The bed isn't long enough for him, really, Lex notes; that should be uncomfortable.
"Not really," Lex admits, watching him. Clark, unlike him, did not fall asleep fully dressed. In fact, Clark does not seem to be wearing anything other than his boxers. "You have something else in mind?"
"I don't know."
"Really?" Lex says, but it's not really a question. "Odd. I was getting the impression you were about to seduce me."
"Oh, that," says Clark, as if Lex has reminded him of something forgotten.
"It slipped your mind, I suppose," Lex says dryly, and he stands up. The room has darkened in the few hours since he arrived -- the sun's set, and the only source of light in the room is the screensaver on Clark's computer.
"Are you going?" Clark says, and there's an odd edge to his voice that's Lex has noticed before, but hasn't quite identified yet. He has not mentioned it to Clark.
"I thought this might go better with both of us unshod."
"Oh," Clark says. "Good idea," as he straightens up and sits cross-legged on the bed. Clark's hair is mussed from sleep, sticking up in every direction, a bizarre cloud around his head. He watches, wide-eyed, eyes green and catlike in the reflected light.
Lex kneels to remove his shoes, and stands up again to place them besides Clark's bureau. He slips off his watch, here, too, and his tie, and takes his phone from his pocket. He must have been more tired than he thought to fall asleep on top of it. All of the items go in a neat stack on the dresser top.
He unbuttons his shirt as he walks back to the bed. It's already rumpled, and the floor won't damage it any further, so he lets it fall behind him as he climbs next to Clark and kisses him.
Clark falls back onto the bed, pulling Lex down with him, and his kisses are breathless and deep now. They've made out like this for hours, in this bed, in Lex's cars, in the couch in Clark's loft. Lex suspects Clark likes small places, places where there's not enough space for either of them to do this, and everything is crowded and smashed together. Clark can take up as much of Lex's space as he wants here, in a way he doesn't seem to let himself in Lex's king size bed.
This is one of the days when Clark's kisses are slow and thoughtful and concentrated; it's not always like this. Lex likes to think he understands Clark, but most of the time he knows better.
Clark breaks away to breathe warm against Lex's neck. They're on their sides, and Clark has his leg wrapped against the back of Lex's, pushing them closer. One of Clark's hands is closed tight around Lex's arm, hard enough for him to feel it, but not quite hard enough to it to hurt him, or for Lex to push him away. Clark's thumb rubs small circles against the bicep as he leans in to suck on Lex's lower lip.
He moves back away, kisses each of Lex's eyelids in turn, and then Lex lets Clark push him onto his back, so Clark is over him, on him, and above him. His mouth stays fast on Lex's skin, his ear, his lip, the line of his jaw, but Clark is holding himself propped with both hands, and there are places below Lex's neck that would appreciate attention as well.
Lex lays his hand on Clark's wide muscular back and slides it down his spine to rest gently at the small. He pushes down, just a little pressure, just enough to let Clark know what he wants. Clark smiles at him as he gets it, and he drops himself down carefully. It's warm in Clark's room -- overheated, even, for all that's it's chilly and below average for this time of year outside -- and Lex, at least, is slick with the beginnings of sweat as their bare chests rub together. Their cocks can touch again now, too, through Lex's dress pants and Clark's worn checked green boxers.
Lex can still remember the first time he saw Clark with a hard-on; Clark was sixteen and covered it up with an untucked shirt and a hunching posture and a blush that could melt iron, and Lex felt enough brotherly sympathy to let it go without teasing him any further about Lana. The blush was still there at not-quite-eighteen, when Clark moaned into Lex's mouth and, after weeks of slow make-out sessions, pulled Lex's hand to his cock before giving the loft's old couch a new stain.
Here and now, Clark is murmuring something inaudible just past Lex's ear, and Lex twists his head to catch it, but it's gone. The only sounds in the room are the hum of the computer, the wet noise of Clark's kisses against his skin, and his own strained breath.
Lex twists again, full body this time, and Clark smiles as he pulls his own head back; Lex rocks up to meet him as Clark starts his slow grind down.
"Nice," Lex says, closing his eyes, and it is, the slick and hard and sweet, the rhythm of up and down and together and friction, and there's only a few millimeters of fabric keeping Lex's cock from Clark's warm body, keeping Clark's cock from Lex.
Clark takes Lex's wrists in hand and pulls them up over his head, and Lex arches up toward him. The kisses aren't slow and thoughtful anymore; they're wet and almost sloppy with want, and Clark moves faster and harder. Lex groans as Clark sucks at his throat; there's going to be a mark there, and Lex hopes it's low enough that his collar will cover it. Right now, though, he doesn't really care. When he pushes himself up as far as he can into Clark's grip, Clark breaks away with a gasp.
"Wait," he says, releasing Lex's arms. He moves off of him to reach over to the dresser beside the bed.
Lex blinks; the loss of the pressure of Clark's body is a sudden shock. "Wait?" His voice sounds deeper than normal, groggy.
"Condoms." He watches Clark rummage through the top drawer, and when he speaks again, Lex can read the meaning just from his tone and posture. "Damn."
"You're all out." Lex stretches out and sighs.
"There's more in the bathroom down the hall. The resident directors are very pro-safe sex." Clark stands up and yawns. There are times when Lex doesn't think he could look away from Clark; it's not a feeling Lex appreciates, but it's one he's come to accept. Right now Clark's half-naked and aroused in the dim room, and his expression still holds a hint of sleepiness; he looks messy and careless and obscene, lots of things he isn't, at all.
Lex sits up, and tugs on Clark's hand to bring him back to the bed. "Don't worry about it." Clark follows his pull without resistance, sits down on the mattress and waits, and Lex can feel the beginnings of a smirk on his own face as he settles himself into Clark's lap.
"This works, too," Clark says, breath coming a little ragged.
"Yeah, I like it." He wraps his arms around Clark's neck and Clark leans in eagerly to meet his kiss. Lex just meant for a light peck, a reminder, but Clark stops him when he tries to pull away, keeps him there as he makes it deeper and wetter and more. It sounds loud and dirty, and Lex can hear himself make some noise into Clark's mouth when Clark's hands find his hips and encourage him to move.
It's a good idea, and Lex is never one to let one of those slide. Each rock forward brings his cock up against Clark's firm stomach; each rock back brings his ass against Clark's erection. Clark's grip gets tighter with each thrust, too, and his eyes are squeezed shut, but he's controlling himself, letting Lex take charge, and yeah, that's good.
"Clark, Clark," Lex whispers into his ear, and Clark shivers obligingly beneath him. Lex smiles and trails his palm down Clark's shoulders and chest, down the soft warm skin to his nipple. At the touch, Clark makes a low guttural noise and clutches Lex even closer. "Clark." Again, and he twists Clark's nipple as hard as he can.
"Uh," Clark cries again, and this time he bucks up fiercely as he pulls Lex in, and Lex can feel it as he shakes and comes. "Oh, jeez, Lex..."
"Yeah," Lex repeats breathlessly, and it's only going to be a few more thrusts now, just a little bit more... Clark's releasing his death grip, suddenly, and there's a hand cradling Lex's skull, another just breaching his lips, and Lex opens his mouth to accept the long, wide fingers. And there he goes: all it takes is one good suck, and he's gone.
Clark rests his forehead against Lex's, taking deep, slow breaths. Lex finds himself following. He even breathes differently with Clark around, he thinks.
In two minutes, Lex will rise and begin to dress again; his pants are already beginning to be uncomfortable. After another three minutes, Clark will discover that they've missed the curfew for guests in the building. He'll start to worry, and Lex will sneak out of the building, feeling six years younger.
In three weeks, Clark will get his paper back from his professor. He'll brag about his A- for days afterward, and Lex will find it a strange mixture of endearing and immature. Clark will graduate in two years with honors, and Lex will clap when Clark crosses the stage from his seat next to the Kents. Within the year after that, Clark will start at the Daily Planet, meet Lois Lane and start the rest of his life. It won't be long after that the long slow decline of Lex's trust in Clark's smile will come to an end with a bang.
Right now, Lex closes his eyes and breathes.
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