Smallville fic: After The Storm
Title: After The Storm
Author: Signe
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Lex/Clark
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1,500
Beta: Huge thanks to estrella30.
A/N: A coda to Exposed. Dedicated to elli - one day I'll finish your birthday present, but for now, have some porn.
Clark is sprawled out on Lex's sofa, just like old times.
Except that it isn't like old times at all. Clark is wearing a suit and shirt - there was clearly a tie once but that's long discarded, somewhere - and he wears the suit well. No sign of the farm boy, no sign of the boy at all.
This Clark's grown up.
And he's big-Lex sometimes forgets how big Clark is, the way he tends to slouch around as though he's uncomfortable in his own skin and wants to shrink into some smaller, less visible version of himself. But tonight he looks like he owns the sofa, owns the room; hell, he looks like he owns Lex.
It only takes Lex a fraction of a second to realize he's fine with that.
He takes a step toward Clark, his voice low.
"I hear you had your first lap-dance." Lex doesn't restrain the amusement in his tone, or on his face.
And Clark doesn't blush or duck his head, though from what Lex has heard his blush during the lap-dance itself could have lit city blocks. He just nods, and grimaces slightly.
"It's a milestone in your life, Clark. You're supposed to look a little more impressed."
"It was Lois, Lex. Lois!"
"Not quite your type, I assume."
And now the evening goes from slightly odd to truly surreal, because Clark doesn't expound on the superiority of a certain Miss Lang, or his taste for long black hair as against brown. He just smiles, as though to say-
Lex blinks. He's clearly losing his touch if he thinks Clark is-
Clark is spreading his legs. That's undeniable.
He's licking his lips. Also undeniable.
The air is charged, literally. Lex can feel it, feel the static tingling on his skin, electrons buzzing out of place frantically, searching for their corresponding pair. There must be storm brewing, the sort that flashes up out of nowhere in Kansas. Lex wonders if it's Clark's doing, if he can control the weather - Lex has gone way past thinking anything is impossible with Clark.
Clark's still smiling at him. A genuine smile, but not one he's ever seen before, at least not on Clark. It's not an easy, casual happy smile, not a thank you smile and not the smile of an innocent boy. There's no innocence in it at all: this smile is knowing, it's a gift and a challenge, and it's aimed at Lex.
Lex is no fool. The only person who has ever accused him of stupidity was his father, and he was always blind when it came to Lex. Lex hasn't gotten where he is without learning to read people, read even the slightest nuances from people who don't want to be read, people who think their defenses are impenetrable. And Clark isn't being subtle, isn't trying to hide what's on offer.
He looks towards the door and gives his bodyguard the look that means don't come back tonight no matter what you hear.
The door closes with a solid thump and the room feels smaller. Just the two of them now, so it's absurd and contradictory that the room should be smaller, but then this is Clark, and absurd and contradictory go with the territory.
Lex turns back to Clark, and Clark-he's just waiting, staring back as though it's a contest that he knows he'll win.
Lex follows the pull, negative craving positive, until it feels right. And right, it seems, is rubbing the memory of the Lane girl from Clark's body. Lies on top of him, chest to chest, groin to groin, and pushes down, bites the crease of Clark's neck where the open shirt gives a too tempting glimpse of skin like warm syrup. Bites hard and Clark groans and tilts his head back for more. Open.
Clark's hard, was hard before Lex touched him, radiating want that's seeping into Lex-osmotic desire. There's no doubt that Clark wants this, and hell knows Lex does. Always has, though he's always resisted before, never let himself go beyond looks and gifts and an obsession to know more.
He knows more now, knows the feel of muscles, the taste of skin, the scent of sex. All the rest is irrelevant.
Clark is strong like a storm under Lex, huge thighs beneath him and big, big hands gripping his ass, and it's a fucking turn-on to know that Clark could throw him across the room if he wanted. Could crush him with his bare hands, could bite through his jugular, could snap his neck so quickly Lex wouldn't see it coming. Clark's always been dangerous to Lex-too tempting, too intriguing.
Clark's arching up, and Lex should be slowing this down, savoring it, stripping Clark one layer at a time. He should be peeling back the suit to see if, underneath, this man of steel who's spread out under him is the same Clark he's always known. And wanted. Should trace each inch of emerging skin and get to see it all, until Clark's exposed everything he is to Lex.
But it's been four years.
Lex has never been a patient man, and he's waited four fucking years for this, and he's finally cracking because he can barely wait and he's not going to come just from this, dry humping Clark as though Lex is the teenager.
Little noises, deep in the back of Clark's throat as though he's trying to be quiet. Lex wants to hear him lose it, needs to hear him scream when he comes. Pulls back enough to slide a hand inside Clark's shirt, sliding along smooth skin until he finds a nipple. Twists, viciously, and Clark groans louder, but not enough.
Lex pulls away further, onto the floor, onto his knees.
And Clark's with the program, undoing his belt in a blur, unzipping his pants and lifting up in another blur to pull them down.
"Going commando, Clark?" Lex is genuinely surprised. There's always a new surprise with Clark: just when Lex thinks he's gotten all of the surprises out of the way for the day, Clark throws him another. Lex's not used to being off balance, but it's a challenge, and he thrives on those.
Clark shrugs. "I thought it might save time."
Clark planned this, Clark expected this, came over here wanting this. Lex should probably be worried about what that says about Clark, worried that he's underestimated him, but he doesn't give a flying fuck.
"I'm going to suck your cock."
Clark's groans are louder now, but he's not quite lost it yet. Not yet. But he will.
His cock is beautiful, big like Clark, dark with blood and curving up towards Lex, head pushing through the foreskin, leaking and ready. Begging to be sucked.
Lex licks the side of it, feels it paint his cheek with pre-come. Swipes the head, sucks briefly on and off with a wet plop. Fast and messy.
And now Clark groans loud enough to satisfy Lex.
"Lex, please." The words are an effort, dragged out of him as though he's forgotten what language he speaks.
Sucks him down, and it's been a long time since Lex has had this weight in his mouth, felt a cock pressing against the back of his throat. Never Clark's. Never felt this much raw power streaming through him, spearing in a straight line to his own cock. He's never come just from sucking cock, but this is Clark, Clark's cock, and this is a day of firsts. Squeezes himself tightly, painfully, because he needs just a bit more time.
He trails one hand behind Clark's balls, stroking the puckered skin with his nail. Other hand on his chest because Clark's bucking up now, movements jerky and desperate. Close, so close.
"Gonna-" Clark attempts. More of an exclamation than a warning, and Lex just takes it as a plea to take him down that little bit further.
Shudders that run through Lex, and Lex isn't even sure where they originated, Clark or him. And Clark's coming, hot down his throat, and Lex pulls away enough to catch a taste on his tongue. Bitter, unique.
Clark's silent now, eyes closed, but it's a relaxed silence, the gentle silence that comes after a storm and makes the world feel safe again, not the charged expectation that falls just before the storm hits.
Lex is still hard, but he can wait after all, now he's seen this. Lex is going to take off Clark's shirt, then take off every layer of his own. Every single layer. This is the final surprise, that this is what Clark was offering, this much, all of him, and Lex is going to take it all and give it all. Four years it's taken, four years of friendship and fighting and lies and losing each other. But now-now they're on equal terms, and maybe that is what Clark has been waiting for.
The right moment.
The calm after the storm.
Author: Signe
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Lex/Clark
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1,500
Beta: Huge thanks to estrella30.
A/N: A coda to Exposed. Dedicated to elli - one day I'll finish your birthday present, but for now, have some porn.
Clark is sprawled out on Lex's sofa, just like old times.
Except that it isn't like old times at all. Clark is wearing a suit and shirt - there was clearly a tie once but that's long discarded, somewhere - and he wears the suit well. No sign of the farm boy, no sign of the boy at all.
This Clark's grown up.
And he's big-Lex sometimes forgets how big Clark is, the way he tends to slouch around as though he's uncomfortable in his own skin and wants to shrink into some smaller, less visible version of himself. But tonight he looks like he owns the sofa, owns the room; hell, he looks like he owns Lex.
It only takes Lex a fraction of a second to realize he's fine with that.
He takes a step toward Clark, his voice low.
"I hear you had your first lap-dance." Lex doesn't restrain the amusement in his tone, or on his face.
And Clark doesn't blush or duck his head, though from what Lex has heard his blush during the lap-dance itself could have lit city blocks. He just nods, and grimaces slightly.
"It's a milestone in your life, Clark. You're supposed to look a little more impressed."
"It was Lois, Lex. Lois!"
"Not quite your type, I assume."
And now the evening goes from slightly odd to truly surreal, because Clark doesn't expound on the superiority of a certain Miss Lang, or his taste for long black hair as against brown. He just smiles, as though to say-
Lex blinks. He's clearly losing his touch if he thinks Clark is-
Clark is spreading his legs. That's undeniable.
He's licking his lips. Also undeniable.
The air is charged, literally. Lex can feel it, feel the static tingling on his skin, electrons buzzing out of place frantically, searching for their corresponding pair. There must be storm brewing, the sort that flashes up out of nowhere in Kansas. Lex wonders if it's Clark's doing, if he can control the weather - Lex has gone way past thinking anything is impossible with Clark.
Clark's still smiling at him. A genuine smile, but not one he's ever seen before, at least not on Clark. It's not an easy, casual happy smile, not a thank you smile and not the smile of an innocent boy. There's no innocence in it at all: this smile is knowing, it's a gift and a challenge, and it's aimed at Lex.
Lex is no fool. The only person who has ever accused him of stupidity was his father, and he was always blind when it came to Lex. Lex hasn't gotten where he is without learning to read people, read even the slightest nuances from people who don't want to be read, people who think their defenses are impenetrable. And Clark isn't being subtle, isn't trying to hide what's on offer.
He looks towards the door and gives his bodyguard the look that means don't come back tonight no matter what you hear.
The door closes with a solid thump and the room feels smaller. Just the two of them now, so it's absurd and contradictory that the room should be smaller, but then this is Clark, and absurd and contradictory go with the territory.
Lex turns back to Clark, and Clark-he's just waiting, staring back as though it's a contest that he knows he'll win.
Lex follows the pull, negative craving positive, until it feels right. And right, it seems, is rubbing the memory of the Lane girl from Clark's body. Lies on top of him, chest to chest, groin to groin, and pushes down, bites the crease of Clark's neck where the open shirt gives a too tempting glimpse of skin like warm syrup. Bites hard and Clark groans and tilts his head back for more. Open.
Clark's hard, was hard before Lex touched him, radiating want that's seeping into Lex-osmotic desire. There's no doubt that Clark wants this, and hell knows Lex does. Always has, though he's always resisted before, never let himself go beyond looks and gifts and an obsession to know more.
He knows more now, knows the feel of muscles, the taste of skin, the scent of sex. All the rest is irrelevant.
Clark is strong like a storm under Lex, huge thighs beneath him and big, big hands gripping his ass, and it's a fucking turn-on to know that Clark could throw him across the room if he wanted. Could crush him with his bare hands, could bite through his jugular, could snap his neck so quickly Lex wouldn't see it coming. Clark's always been dangerous to Lex-too tempting, too intriguing.
Clark's arching up, and Lex should be slowing this down, savoring it, stripping Clark one layer at a time. He should be peeling back the suit to see if, underneath, this man of steel who's spread out under him is the same Clark he's always known. And wanted. Should trace each inch of emerging skin and get to see it all, until Clark's exposed everything he is to Lex.
But it's been four years.
Lex has never been a patient man, and he's waited four fucking years for this, and he's finally cracking because he can barely wait and he's not going to come just from this, dry humping Clark as though Lex is the teenager.
Little noises, deep in the back of Clark's throat as though he's trying to be quiet. Lex wants to hear him lose it, needs to hear him scream when he comes. Pulls back enough to slide a hand inside Clark's shirt, sliding along smooth skin until he finds a nipple. Twists, viciously, and Clark groans louder, but not enough.
Lex pulls away further, onto the floor, onto his knees.
And Clark's with the program, undoing his belt in a blur, unzipping his pants and lifting up in another blur to pull them down.
"Going commando, Clark?" Lex is genuinely surprised. There's always a new surprise with Clark: just when Lex thinks he's gotten all of the surprises out of the way for the day, Clark throws him another. Lex's not used to being off balance, but it's a challenge, and he thrives on those.
Clark shrugs. "I thought it might save time."
Clark planned this, Clark expected this, came over here wanting this. Lex should probably be worried about what that says about Clark, worried that he's underestimated him, but he doesn't give a flying fuck.
"I'm going to suck your cock."
Clark's groans are louder now, but he's not quite lost it yet. Not yet. But he will.
His cock is beautiful, big like Clark, dark with blood and curving up towards Lex, head pushing through the foreskin, leaking and ready. Begging to be sucked.
Lex licks the side of it, feels it paint his cheek with pre-come. Swipes the head, sucks briefly on and off with a wet plop. Fast and messy.
And now Clark groans loud enough to satisfy Lex.
"Lex, please." The words are an effort, dragged out of him as though he's forgotten what language he speaks.
Sucks him down, and it's been a long time since Lex has had this weight in his mouth, felt a cock pressing against the back of his throat. Never Clark's. Never felt this much raw power streaming through him, spearing in a straight line to his own cock. He's never come just from sucking cock, but this is Clark, Clark's cock, and this is a day of firsts. Squeezes himself tightly, painfully, because he needs just a bit more time.
He trails one hand behind Clark's balls, stroking the puckered skin with his nail. Other hand on his chest because Clark's bucking up now, movements jerky and desperate. Close, so close.
"Gonna-" Clark attempts. More of an exclamation than a warning, and Lex just takes it as a plea to take him down that little bit further.
Shudders that run through Lex, and Lex isn't even sure where they originated, Clark or him. And Clark's coming, hot down his throat, and Lex pulls away enough to catch a taste on his tongue. Bitter, unique.
Clark's silent now, eyes closed, but it's a relaxed silence, the gentle silence that comes after a storm and makes the world feel safe again, not the charged expectation that falls just before the storm hits.
Lex is still hard, but he can wait after all, now he's seen this. Lex is going to take off Clark's shirt, then take off every layer of his own. Every single layer. This is the final surprise, that this is what Clark was offering, this much, all of him, and Lex is going to take it all and give it all. Four years it's taken, four years of friendship and fighting and lies and losing each other. But now-now they're on equal terms, and maybe that is what Clark has been waiting for.
The right moment.
The calm after the storm.