sv fic post: How I Spent My Summer Vacation part eleven
Title: How I Spent My Summer Vacation part eleven
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/ Whit, Jason/Whit
Rating: nc-17
Summary: All about what Clark learns on his summer job.
I promise, this one is not going to be a year long never-ending WIP.
The previous parts are here, floating happily in a pool of jello…*sigh* if only….
Their last job of the day was the Luthor place. When they pulled up, there was a lot of activity going on. Trucks, cars…"Looks like someone's moving in," Greg said.
"Yeah, maybe we can get inside the place, y'think?" Roger said.
"Keep moving girls, keep moving." Jason snapped. Whit smiled and directed the guys to their jobs for the day. Clark came up behind him, and peered over his shoulder at what was happening on the driveway.
"Hey, it looks like some body's moving in finally, hunh? Wonder if it's the Luthors or did they finally sell the place? Say, did I ever tell you about the time I saved Lex Luth-"
"Clark-the mower's waiting for you. How about a little less yakking and a little more working?" Whit walked away without a backward glance. Clark was furious. What an asshole-
"Oh, and take your friend Billy with you, I wouldn’t want him to get lonely."
WHAT? Clark gaped after Whit. The hell-oh hell no. Who the fuck did he think he was-being all bitchy and jealous? How dare he! Wait, wait…he was jealous? Clark grinned from ear to ear. He was jealous. Oh hell yeah-wait. Wait. So what fucking what, Whit was involved with Jay…Clark groaned. His head hurt. Fuck this; he was going to go murder some weeds.
They worked all day getting the pool area in shape. The pool guys were doing final checks on the water-it glistened like sapphires in the sunlight, it's cool watery bosom beckoned seductively…it slowly raised it's legs and exposed the gleaming center of…Clark gulped, looked around guiltily. Geez. He wiped his sweating forehead, and fanned himself with the hem of his shirt. Sometimes…things just went a little…odd…in the sun.
Greg and Pete chatted quietly as they weeded the beds that lined the wall around the pool, Billy and Roger edged the beds, and watered the potted palms that had magically appeared around the pool, Whit pruned the wicker baskets of exotic plants hanging from the rafters of the pergola stepped back from the pool, and Jason mowed the swath of grass that separated the pool area from the box maze and sunken gardens. There he was, arrogant as hell, riding the back of the mower, shirt stuffed into the back of his shorts, earmuffs and goggles that were unfairly *not* making him look like a doofus. He turned the mower and Clark watched a whole delightful series of muscles leap into play, eager to help Jason make the turn, skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat, and he'd glow like gold in the sun if Clark could add a little moisture of his own--FUCK. Clark shook his head hard. Damn it! Between sun buzz and alien sex heat spore what-the-fuck, he might just die…man, being teenaged and hormone-driven sucked ass.
Clark turned his attention away from Apollo driving his chariot over the lawn and towards the relatively safer contemplation of the pool.
Yeah.
Whit walked across the tiled floor of the pool enclosure, his shirt over his head and his chest bare. Try. Not. To. Stare. Clark tried, he really tried not to stare, but the way muscles moved over Whit's ribs, the way his calves bunched and stretched, the way, oh my, his ass shifted…Clark closed his eyes, and he yanked the hem of shirt down far as he could, and asked Greg if the cabana bathroom worked now.
"Yes-God. I don’t want to know you've got to use the facilities."
"Yeah, well, normally I'd just piss against a tree but with all these people around-"
Greg gagged and walked away.
Clark found the bathroom, slipped in and locked the door. He sighed in relief. Now he could indulge himself and imagine that walk in slow motion, only this time, Whit was walking towards him.
Smiled right at him, the sun reflected from his hair, lit it like a golden halo. His eyes glowed, and he whispered Clark's name, licked his lips. He unbuttoned the top button of his shorts, and ran a big corded hand up his stomach, over his nipples, tweaked them and mouthed Clark's name again. His hand slid into the gaping waistband of his shorts, bunched under the material and his eyes narrowed, he hissed a little, pushed downward…the shorts dropped…his cock sprang up, red and hard and leaking. He ran a finger up the throbbing shaft, circled the head, slick with pre-come, stuck the finger in his mouth and licked it like a lollipop. Clark, he moaned, and maybe there were muted saxophones in the background… God, I need you, Clark, I need your mouth, need your ass… Clark bit his lip and moaned. This was a pretty good fantasy, usually he just imagined Whit grabbing him, flipping him on his stomach, and fucking the heck out of him, with lots less shiny lights and glowing hair. God! He shuddered all over, and was just about to imagine Whit bending him over, teasing him and pushing his fingers slowly into him, when the whole idea just became too much for his body, it grabbed him by the balls and said, Go!
He went. He tried like crazy not to moan out loud, his knees buckled, his breath left him in loud harsh gasps…and damn, but it felt good.
He cleaned up, directed a little embarrassed and loopy grin at the red-faced goofball smirking back at him from the mirror over the double sinks. He washed his face in ice cold water, but it was still stoplight red. Sure, his body was invulnerable-but it couldn’t stop his blood vessels from misbehaving? He tried a look of nonchalance and realized he was really, really bad at nonchalance. The look was more like massive guilt teetering on the edge of insanity…
He walked out of the bathroom whistling and Whit and Jason were sitting on the diving board at one corner of the pool. They gaped at him, and then, burst out laughing. It was the damn whistling…when was he going to realize no one outside of a book whistled casually? Oh fuck you both. He smiled and walked off and tried to act like he wasn't horribly red and sweating and hadn't just jerked off to a vision of Whit that was only missing the porn track. They couldn’t know…could they?
part 12
TBC
Fandom: SV
Pairing: Clark/ Whit, Jason/Whit
Rating: nc-17
Summary: All about what Clark learns on his summer job.
I promise, this one is not going to be a year long never-ending WIP.
The previous parts are here, floating happily in a pool of jello…*sigh* if only….
Their last job of the day was the Luthor place. When they pulled up, there was a lot of activity going on. Trucks, cars…"Looks like someone's moving in," Greg said.
"Yeah, maybe we can get inside the place, y'think?" Roger said.
"Keep moving girls, keep moving." Jason snapped. Whit smiled and directed the guys to their jobs for the day. Clark came up behind him, and peered over his shoulder at what was happening on the driveway.
"Hey, it looks like some body's moving in finally, hunh? Wonder if it's the Luthors or did they finally sell the place? Say, did I ever tell you about the time I saved Lex Luth-"
"Clark-the mower's waiting for you. How about a little less yakking and a little more working?" Whit walked away without a backward glance. Clark was furious. What an asshole-
"Oh, and take your friend Billy with you, I wouldn’t want him to get lonely."
WHAT? Clark gaped after Whit. The hell-oh hell no. Who the fuck did he think he was-being all bitchy and jealous? How dare he! Wait, wait…he was jealous? Clark grinned from ear to ear. He was jealous. Oh hell yeah-wait. Wait. So what fucking what, Whit was involved with Jay…Clark groaned. His head hurt. Fuck this; he was going to go murder some weeds.
They worked all day getting the pool area in shape. The pool guys were doing final checks on the water-it glistened like sapphires in the sunlight, it's cool watery bosom beckoned seductively…it slowly raised it's legs and exposed the gleaming center of…Clark gulped, looked around guiltily. Geez. He wiped his sweating forehead, and fanned himself with the hem of his shirt. Sometimes…things just went a little…odd…in the sun.
Greg and Pete chatted quietly as they weeded the beds that lined the wall around the pool, Billy and Roger edged the beds, and watered the potted palms that had magically appeared around the pool, Whit pruned the wicker baskets of exotic plants hanging from the rafters of the pergola stepped back from the pool, and Jason mowed the swath of grass that separated the pool area from the box maze and sunken gardens. There he was, arrogant as hell, riding the back of the mower, shirt stuffed into the back of his shorts, earmuffs and goggles that were unfairly *not* making him look like a doofus. He turned the mower and Clark watched a whole delightful series of muscles leap into play, eager to help Jason make the turn, skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat, and he'd glow like gold in the sun if Clark could add a little moisture of his own--FUCK. Clark shook his head hard. Damn it! Between sun buzz and alien sex heat spore what-the-fuck, he might just die…man, being teenaged and hormone-driven sucked ass.
Clark turned his attention away from Apollo driving his chariot over the lawn and towards the relatively safer contemplation of the pool.
Yeah.
Whit walked across the tiled floor of the pool enclosure, his shirt over his head and his chest bare. Try. Not. To. Stare. Clark tried, he really tried not to stare, but the way muscles moved over Whit's ribs, the way his calves bunched and stretched, the way, oh my, his ass shifted…Clark closed his eyes, and he yanked the hem of shirt down far as he could, and asked Greg if the cabana bathroom worked now.
"Yes-God. I don’t want to know you've got to use the facilities."
"Yeah, well, normally I'd just piss against a tree but with all these people around-"
Greg gagged and walked away.
Clark found the bathroom, slipped in and locked the door. He sighed in relief. Now he could indulge himself and imagine that walk in slow motion, only this time, Whit was walking towards him.
Smiled right at him, the sun reflected from his hair, lit it like a golden halo. His eyes glowed, and he whispered Clark's name, licked his lips. He unbuttoned the top button of his shorts, and ran a big corded hand up his stomach, over his nipples, tweaked them and mouthed Clark's name again. His hand slid into the gaping waistband of his shorts, bunched under the material and his eyes narrowed, he hissed a little, pushed downward…the shorts dropped…his cock sprang up, red and hard and leaking. He ran a finger up the throbbing shaft, circled the head, slick with pre-come, stuck the finger in his mouth and licked it like a lollipop. Clark, he moaned, and maybe there were muted saxophones in the background… God, I need you, Clark, I need your mouth, need your ass… Clark bit his lip and moaned. This was a pretty good fantasy, usually he just imagined Whit grabbing him, flipping him on his stomach, and fucking the heck out of him, with lots less shiny lights and glowing hair. God! He shuddered all over, and was just about to imagine Whit bending him over, teasing him and pushing his fingers slowly into him, when the whole idea just became too much for his body, it grabbed him by the balls and said, Go!
He went. He tried like crazy not to moan out loud, his knees buckled, his breath left him in loud harsh gasps…and damn, but it felt good.
He cleaned up, directed a little embarrassed and loopy grin at the red-faced goofball smirking back at him from the mirror over the double sinks. He washed his face in ice cold water, but it was still stoplight red. Sure, his body was invulnerable-but it couldn’t stop his blood vessels from misbehaving? He tried a look of nonchalance and realized he was really, really bad at nonchalance. The look was more like massive guilt teetering on the edge of insanity…
He walked out of the bathroom whistling and Whit and Jason were sitting on the diving board at one corner of the pool. They gaped at him, and then, burst out laughing. It was the damn whistling…when was he going to realize no one outside of a book whistled casually? Oh fuck you both. He smiled and walked off and tried to act like he wasn't horribly red and sweating and hadn't just jerked off to a vision of Whit that was only missing the porn track. They couldn’t know…could they?
part 12
TBC