You're A Mean One, Mr. Grinch: A Clexmas Carol
Pairing: Clex
Genre: PWP
Rating: Soft R
Word Count: 504
Summary: Given the choice between the two of them, I'd take ... hmm :)
A/N: Hello fandom. Merry Christmas.
It's been a terrible year in NNTO-world and I have missed writing so, so much - and Christmas was such an amazing Clexy time for me last year. So the idea of making a reappearance (however brief) for a few more Clexmas Carols was just too good to pass up.
Here is the first of this year's offerings. You'll have to forgive me if this one is a bit of a stretch - I'm afraid I got all the way through it before even realizing there's not even a passing nod to Christmas anywhere. (Oh well. Holiday spirit isn't exactly what I'm after here :) ) It helps if you know the song (oh the deliciously evil Thurl Ravencroft), but you don't have to.
“Tell me.” Lex’s tone was soft but commanding, as steely as the spine beneath those fine cashmere suits.
“Lex …”
“Tell me,” he repeated, making sure the L’s flicked just so against Clark’s ear.
“You’re evil,” Clark hissed in response.
Lex was unmoved. “Am I?” he asked, tipping his chin to skim his teeth along the ridge of Clark’s jaw.
“Yes …”
“And just how evil am I?” he pressed, and took one glorious, ravenous taste of the skin of Clark’s collarbone. But then, as quick and hot as Lex’s mouth had been ...
… it was gone. “You’re mean,” Clark whined.
Lex couldn’t help a small chuckle, low in his throat and appropriately mean. “Come now … you can do better.”
“You’re … you’re vile.”
“Ah.” His mouth began to curl up now at the corners, insidious and sly. “Considering I am a villain, that’s excellent news. What else?”
“You’re a monster.”
“Really. It must pain you to touch me, then.”
Clark took a deep breath and gathered all his strength for a counterattack. “I wouldn’t touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole … Luthor.”
“That,” Lex mused as his lithe hands skimmed down the front of Clark’s body, “is a terrible shame. “ His greedy palm cupped and squeezed. “Though if it really is thirty-nine-and-a-half feet long, I might have to reform my ways.”
Clark moaned. “Please …”
“Please what?”
“I … I want …”
Lex’s evil smile curled again, and this time his nimble fingers found their way to the blue kryptonite bracelet around Clark’s right wrist. He planted a kiss there lightly, and let his eyes snap with all the audacity of a villain. “Oh,” he whispered mockingly, “but you don’t get what you want, remember?”
Again his hands found and fondled, their gentle tenderness in direct contrast to those biting words. But he spoke on, and touched on, his monologue punctuated by pressure and Clark’s helpless, blissful sighs. “Unless it’s what I want … and what I want now …”
His tongue flicked the sensitive spot inside Clark’s left thigh. “Oh, God,” Clark cried hoarsely.
“He’s not here,” Lex observed.
Clark still retained enough sense to remember this part of the game. “Oh, Lex.”
“Much better.” Lex drew himself to all his evil splendor, or as close to it as he could get on his knees, naked in a pile of satin sheets. “Now tell me, Superman - are you finished? Defeated? Tell me that I’ve won.”
For a moment Clark lay still, his eyes profound in his pleasure-flushed face and framed by the tangled halo of his inky hair. And in that moment Lex felt the power, the blessing of that view - of Clark’s body laid bare in his bed.
Of course this man could save anyone … anyone at all.
And then, smiling softly and shifting his thigh just so between Lex’s, Clark delivered his final heroic defiance. “Never,” he murmured.
Lex nearly growled as he let his own body descend. “Then I shall delight in making you suffer.”
Genre: PWP
Rating: Soft R
Word Count: 504
Summary: Given the choice between the two of them, I'd take ... hmm :)
A/N: Hello fandom. Merry Christmas.
It's been a terrible year in NNTO-world and I have missed writing so, so much - and Christmas was such an amazing Clexy time for me last year. So the idea of making a reappearance (however brief) for a few more Clexmas Carols was just too good to pass up.
Here is the first of this year's offerings. You'll have to forgive me if this one is a bit of a stretch - I'm afraid I got all the way through it before even realizing there's not even a passing nod to Christmas anywhere. (Oh well. Holiday spirit isn't exactly what I'm after here :) ) It helps if you know the song (oh the deliciously evil Thurl Ravencroft), but you don't have to.
“Tell me.” Lex’s tone was soft but commanding, as steely as the spine beneath those fine cashmere suits.
“Lex …”
“Tell me,” he repeated, making sure the L’s flicked just so against Clark’s ear.
“You’re evil,” Clark hissed in response.
Lex was unmoved. “Am I?” he asked, tipping his chin to skim his teeth along the ridge of Clark’s jaw.
“Yes …”
“And just how evil am I?” he pressed, and took one glorious, ravenous taste of the skin of Clark’s collarbone. But then, as quick and hot as Lex’s mouth had been ...
… it was gone. “You’re mean,” Clark whined.
Lex couldn’t help a small chuckle, low in his throat and appropriately mean. “Come now … you can do better.”
“You’re … you’re vile.”
“Ah.” His mouth began to curl up now at the corners, insidious and sly. “Considering I am a villain, that’s excellent news. What else?”
“You’re a monster.”
“Really. It must pain you to touch me, then.”
Clark took a deep breath and gathered all his strength for a counterattack. “I wouldn’t touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole … Luthor.”
“That,” Lex mused as his lithe hands skimmed down the front of Clark’s body, “is a terrible shame. “ His greedy palm cupped and squeezed. “Though if it really is thirty-nine-and-a-half feet long, I might have to reform my ways.”
Clark moaned. “Please …”
“Please what?”
“I … I want …”
Lex’s evil smile curled again, and this time his nimble fingers found their way to the blue kryptonite bracelet around Clark’s right wrist. He planted a kiss there lightly, and let his eyes snap with all the audacity of a villain. “Oh,” he whispered mockingly, “but you don’t get what you want, remember?”
Again his hands found and fondled, their gentle tenderness in direct contrast to those biting words. But he spoke on, and touched on, his monologue punctuated by pressure and Clark’s helpless, blissful sighs. “Unless it’s what I want … and what I want now …”
His tongue flicked the sensitive spot inside Clark’s left thigh. “Oh, God,” Clark cried hoarsely.
“He’s not here,” Lex observed.
Clark still retained enough sense to remember this part of the game. “Oh, Lex.”
“Much better.” Lex drew himself to all his evil splendor, or as close to it as he could get on his knees, naked in a pile of satin sheets. “Now tell me, Superman - are you finished? Defeated? Tell me that I’ve won.”
For a moment Clark lay still, his eyes profound in his pleasure-flushed face and framed by the tangled halo of his inky hair. And in that moment Lex felt the power, the blessing of that view - of Clark’s body laid bare in his bed.
Of course this man could save anyone … anyone at all.
And then, smiling softly and shifting his thigh just so between Lex’s, Clark delivered his final heroic defiance. “Never,” he murmured.
Lex nearly growled as he let his own body descend. “Then I shall delight in making you suffer.”