Fic: Victory Celebration | Superman I | Brad/Clark/Lana | NC-17 | 1/1
Title: Victory Celebration
Fandom: Superman I
Pairing: Brad Wilson/Clark Kent/Lana Lang
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,967
Prompt: For The Superman Movieverse Pairings Challenge: beer, football, Smallville, virgin/innocent, cheerleader
Summary: In which Lana is a different person when she's been drinking and hanging out with her boyfriend, Brad is predictable and sleazy, and Clark is a clueless virgin blinded by red hair and green eyes.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: Set during their teen years in Smallville, and when the drinking age was still eighteen. Sequel to follow.
Warnings: Seriously muddy dubious consent, and the quick results of a teenage libido.
Victory Celebration
Clark didn't really want to go to the party at Brad's parent-free house that Friday night, but how could he have said 'no' when Lana had practically begged him, tugging his hand and flashing those brilliant green eyes at him? Of course he'd wind up sitting in a corner somewhere, nursing a Coke and wishing he could just close his eyes and fly away while Brad was all over Lana, pushing things as he always seemed to, and true to form, that's exactly what happened, not ten minutes after Lana had dragged him through the front door and into the semi-darkness of the crowded farmhouse.
It was just Clark's luck that the football team had won earlier that evening, so the living room and kitchen were filled with celebrating players and cheerleaders, some just ecstatic over the win, some already half-drunk on cheap beer that someone had smuggled in. Guys larger than him kept knocking into him, tripping past him while the rest of the cheerleaders giggled and squealed and acted dumb to make their big jock boyfriends feel all macho.
But Clark wasn't buying into it, not for a minute. He'd trade it all for some peace and quiet and a nice view of the stars, if only he could get away without Lana coming after him and pouting. She'd always held that power over him, it seemed, the power to get him to agree to just about anything, and he figured she knew it, too, not that she would ever consciously use that ability for nefarious purposes.
No, Lana was too sweet for that. He knew she had a good heart, and was only trying to get him to come out of his shell a little and have some fun.
Problem was, he didn't know if he could come out of his shell, not without everyone in town instantly knowing just how different he was. That was something he had to protect and guard carefully. It was-
In the midst of his brooding session in the corner, he hadn't even noticed Lana and Brad working their way through the room in his general direction, laughing and flirting and carrying on the whole way, until suddenly he had a lap full of squealing Lana and those gorgeous green eyes fluttering at him while she giggled.
Startled by her surprise appearance in his lap, of all places, he started to murmur a preemptive apology, stuttering and stammering as all the blood seemed to flow away from his brain at exactly the wrong moment. “Um,” was all he actually managed to get out coherently as Lana stiffened in his arms and shifted against him, her eyes widening.
“Clark!” she nearly squealed again, her cheeks reddening in obvious embarrassment for him.
But she didn't move to get up.
In that moment, Clark wanted to wilt and die on the spot. Lana was gonna slap him, for sure. Brad was gonna try to pummel him, and break every bone in his hand in the process. It would be bad. It would be very bad.
Except that Lana still wasn't moving to get up. And Brad leaned over to not-quite-whisper something into Lana's ear. Something that Clark almost wished he hadn't heard.
“Free pass, sweet cheeks. You, me, and Clarkie, upstairs. Consider it a victory present.”
Clark was certain that he'd gone ghostly pale at the suggestion, every last drop of blood having migrated south.
Lana wriggled against his lap again, perfect friction, but just not enough. “C'mon, Clark, whaddya think?” she asked, her expression turning dark and mischievous. The last time he'd seen that look on her face, they were six years old and playing doctor in the barn. And she'd been the doctor.
“Only chance you'll ever get, Clarkie,” Brad taunted him, leaning close enough that Clark could've smelled the beer on his breath without any special abilities. “Let's go show my girl a good time, huh?”
And with that, Lana batted her long, red eyelashes at him and smiled, all sweetness gone, replaced by feral intensity.
No denying it now, Lana was using her powers for evil, but damned if Clark was gonna say 'no', not with the very pressing issue in his pants and an armful of redheaded goddess. And to heck with the fact that he hadn't exactly done anything like this before. At all. For Lana, he'd do... anything.
Picking her up as he stood, only absently hoping no one noticed the bulge in his pants, Clark followed Brad up the stairs to his room, and gently deposited Lana on the bed.
Brad closed and locked the door behind them, muting the sounds of the party, and ordered at once, “Jacket off, Clarkie.”
Doing as he was told, Clark let Lana pull him down to the bed, her face flushed with alcohol and excitement as she kissed him, at first tentatively, then more and more boldly, pulling off his glasses and tossing them away. It was obvious she was as drunk as Brad as she giggled into the kiss, turning on her side as Clark settle in next to her. She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt as Brad swooped in behind her and pulled her sweater up and off, exposing her very feminine curves and the lacy bra that didn't really do anything to hide her breasts at all. It was almost too much to take, really, but Clark only kissed her back harder, closing his eyes to the sight of his only rival cupping her breasts and kneading them roughly through the thin fabric. If he couldn't see him, he wasn't there. It was just Clark and Lana, together at last.
Together, with her working open his pants, and good God, rubbing him through his underwear. His hips bucked involuntarily at the sensory overload in that touch, and if this was the way it was gonna be, he worried for the future of his sex life and any potential partners he might ever have.
But that thought was cut off almost immediately as she worked her hand past his waistband and gripped him tight, her soft fingers firm around his shaft, and a moan tore itself from his throat, even as he continued to kiss her, their tongues dancing together. Almost shaking, he worked his own hand down her side, that soft curve dipping at her waist, and down further over her hip, over her uniform skirt until he found the hem of it. He pushed the fabric up gently, fingers sliding up the warm skin of her thigh, and she bucked against him, moaning back into his mouth and pressing her chest against his.
It was perfection, right up until Brad made his presence known again with a sharp, “Hey!” and knocked Clark's hand off its course. “You wait your damn turn. Right, baby?” he finished to Lana.
Lana hummed her approval, and Clark stomped down on the jealous rage that rose up at that, shivering when he felt Brad's hand move between them, blocking his access and accidentally stimulating them both at the same time.
He suddenly couldn't seem to get enough air as he felt Brad's hand working against Lana, fingers probably dipping beneath the fabric of her panties and his knuckles brushing Clark's erection where Lana's hand wasn't gripping it. The feel of another guy's hand on him along with Lana's... it wasn't bad. Only the fact that it was Brad made it unwanted, but he couldn't deny that it felt good.
Bucking against those knuckles and thrusting into Lana's hand as she squeezed and worked him quickly, he shook, his whole body shivering again. “L-Lana,” he managed, breaking away from their kiss, and then his world seemed to explode in fire, his brain shorting out as he came all over the place, nowhere near ready to let go, but too turned on to hold it back any longer.
As his breath slowly returned along with his senses after a long moment, he opened his eyes to see Lana smirking at him, Brad still working her through her panties. She wiped her hand off on the blanket and grabbed Clark's long fingers to move them back to her, murmuring encouragement as she canted her hips into his touch.
He almost recoiled with shock as his hand met Brad's there, fingers sliding against each other as he pressed forward slowly, finding her wetness and exploring slowly.
“C'mon, you can do it, Clark,” she whispered to him before clutching his shoulder and pressing down onto both of their fingers, moaning with pleasure. “God, you both,” she panted as they worked her, Clark finally getting bolder and pressing his fingers deep inside her alongside Brad's. “Want you both. C'mon,” she whined in desperation.
Brad chuckled darkly and thrust his fingers deep, hard. “Gonna fuck you, baby. While Clark watches. And you can suck him if you want,” he taunted again, giving Clark a combative look.
And that seemed to throw Lana over the edge, a high-pitched scream tearing from her throat as she came, jerking in their arms. Clark was almost hard again already, just from the sight of it, the feel of her spasming around his fingers as her breath breezed past his neck and puffed against his chest.
But Brad was a man of his word, apparently, and withdrew his fingers and Clark's with them, moving to turn Lana all the way onto her back and slide into her in one quick thrust, his pants and underwear around his ankles and her panties shoved out of the way.
Clark felt his face go red and his vision with it at the sight of the borish jock just having his way with her, so he forced his eyes shut against the sight again, felt Lana grip his hand as the bed creaked and squeaked beneath them all, Brad thrusting in and out hard and fast, pounding her into the mattress. He couldn't stand it, not like this. Didn't know why he'd ever come up here in the first place.
And then Brad grunted and Lana squealed in delight as she tensed, her fingers tightening around Clark's. A whimper escaped him when Brad practically growled and thrust into her hard again, coming and claiming her as his.
When he opened his eyes, Brad was sliding out and pulling off a condom to throw it in the trash can. Clark couldn't help a bit of relief at that, at least for Lana's sake. Who knew where Brad had been, after all?
But the relief was short-lived when Brad let Lana up from the bed and slapped her on the ass, smirking, “Get cleaned up, sweet cheeks. Start a shower, and we'll be in in a minute.”
Lana only rolled her eyes at him as she sashayed into the adjacent bathroom, her skirt askew and swaying as she walked.
The words left Clark's mouth before he could stop them, “I really wish you wouldn't call her that.”
What was returned was the ugliest sneer Clark had ever had the displeasure of seeing on a person. “Oh, really?” Brad shot back. “You think you can do better, you little weakling? What are you gonna do, fight me for her? Huh? The boy that can't even hold it for two minutes before losing it all over the bed?”
The spiteful taunting infuriated Clark, but he couldn't exactly do anything about it. Not all messy and debauched and half-naked on Brad's bed. And certainly not when he wanted to put Brad's face through a wall, and could actually do it with very little effort.
“Nothin' to say? Well, how 'bout we put that mouth to good use then, and keep you shut up?”
It was only when Brad moved over him and grabbed him by the hair, tugging sharply, that Clark realized Brad was already hard again, and the sound of what was likely to be a very long shower, knowing Lana, drowned out the sudden hammering of his heart.
He should've figured this would go badly.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: Superman I
Pairing: Brad Wilson/Clark Kent/Lana Lang
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,967
Prompt: For The Superman Movieverse Pairings Challenge: beer, football, Smallville, virgin/innocent, cheerleader
Summary: In which Lana is a different person when she's been drinking and hanging out with her boyfriend, Brad is predictable and sleazy, and Clark is a clueless virgin blinded by red hair and green eyes.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit!
Author's Notes: Set during their teen years in Smallville, and when the drinking age was still eighteen. Sequel to follow.
Warnings: Seriously muddy dubious consent, and the quick results of a teenage libido.
Victory Celebration
Clark didn't really want to go to the party at Brad's parent-free house that Friday night, but how could he have said 'no' when Lana had practically begged him, tugging his hand and flashing those brilliant green eyes at him? Of course he'd wind up sitting in a corner somewhere, nursing a Coke and wishing he could just close his eyes and fly away while Brad was all over Lana, pushing things as he always seemed to, and true to form, that's exactly what happened, not ten minutes after Lana had dragged him through the front door and into the semi-darkness of the crowded farmhouse.
It was just Clark's luck that the football team had won earlier that evening, so the living room and kitchen were filled with celebrating players and cheerleaders, some just ecstatic over the win, some already half-drunk on cheap beer that someone had smuggled in. Guys larger than him kept knocking into him, tripping past him while the rest of the cheerleaders giggled and squealed and acted dumb to make their big jock boyfriends feel all macho.
But Clark wasn't buying into it, not for a minute. He'd trade it all for some peace and quiet and a nice view of the stars, if only he could get away without Lana coming after him and pouting. She'd always held that power over him, it seemed, the power to get him to agree to just about anything, and he figured she knew it, too, not that she would ever consciously use that ability for nefarious purposes.
No, Lana was too sweet for that. He knew she had a good heart, and was only trying to get him to come out of his shell a little and have some fun.
Problem was, he didn't know if he could come out of his shell, not without everyone in town instantly knowing just how different he was. That was something he had to protect and guard carefully. It was-
In the midst of his brooding session in the corner, he hadn't even noticed Lana and Brad working their way through the room in his general direction, laughing and flirting and carrying on the whole way, until suddenly he had a lap full of squealing Lana and those gorgeous green eyes fluttering at him while she giggled.
Startled by her surprise appearance in his lap, of all places, he started to murmur a preemptive apology, stuttering and stammering as all the blood seemed to flow away from his brain at exactly the wrong moment. “Um,” was all he actually managed to get out coherently as Lana stiffened in his arms and shifted against him, her eyes widening.
“Clark!” she nearly squealed again, her cheeks reddening in obvious embarrassment for him.
But she didn't move to get up.
In that moment, Clark wanted to wilt and die on the spot. Lana was gonna slap him, for sure. Brad was gonna try to pummel him, and break every bone in his hand in the process. It would be bad. It would be very bad.
Except that Lana still wasn't moving to get up. And Brad leaned over to not-quite-whisper something into Lana's ear. Something that Clark almost wished he hadn't heard.
“Free pass, sweet cheeks. You, me, and Clarkie, upstairs. Consider it a victory present.”
Clark was certain that he'd gone ghostly pale at the suggestion, every last drop of blood having migrated south.
Lana wriggled against his lap again, perfect friction, but just not enough. “C'mon, Clark, whaddya think?” she asked, her expression turning dark and mischievous. The last time he'd seen that look on her face, they were six years old and playing doctor in the barn. And she'd been the doctor.
“Only chance you'll ever get, Clarkie,” Brad taunted him, leaning close enough that Clark could've smelled the beer on his breath without any special abilities. “Let's go show my girl a good time, huh?”
And with that, Lana batted her long, red eyelashes at him and smiled, all sweetness gone, replaced by feral intensity.
No denying it now, Lana was using her powers for evil, but damned if Clark was gonna say 'no', not with the very pressing issue in his pants and an armful of redheaded goddess. And to heck with the fact that he hadn't exactly done anything like this before. At all. For Lana, he'd do... anything.
Picking her up as he stood, only absently hoping no one noticed the bulge in his pants, Clark followed Brad up the stairs to his room, and gently deposited Lana on the bed.
Brad closed and locked the door behind them, muting the sounds of the party, and ordered at once, “Jacket off, Clarkie.”
Doing as he was told, Clark let Lana pull him down to the bed, her face flushed with alcohol and excitement as she kissed him, at first tentatively, then more and more boldly, pulling off his glasses and tossing them away. It was obvious she was as drunk as Brad as she giggled into the kiss, turning on her side as Clark settle in next to her. She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt as Brad swooped in behind her and pulled her sweater up and off, exposing her very feminine curves and the lacy bra that didn't really do anything to hide her breasts at all. It was almost too much to take, really, but Clark only kissed her back harder, closing his eyes to the sight of his only rival cupping her breasts and kneading them roughly through the thin fabric. If he couldn't see him, he wasn't there. It was just Clark and Lana, together at last.
Together, with her working open his pants, and good God, rubbing him through his underwear. His hips bucked involuntarily at the sensory overload in that touch, and if this was the way it was gonna be, he worried for the future of his sex life and any potential partners he might ever have.
But that thought was cut off almost immediately as she worked her hand past his waistband and gripped him tight, her soft fingers firm around his shaft, and a moan tore itself from his throat, even as he continued to kiss her, their tongues dancing together. Almost shaking, he worked his own hand down her side, that soft curve dipping at her waist, and down further over her hip, over her uniform skirt until he found the hem of it. He pushed the fabric up gently, fingers sliding up the warm skin of her thigh, and she bucked against him, moaning back into his mouth and pressing her chest against his.
It was perfection, right up until Brad made his presence known again with a sharp, “Hey!” and knocked Clark's hand off its course. “You wait your damn turn. Right, baby?” he finished to Lana.
Lana hummed her approval, and Clark stomped down on the jealous rage that rose up at that, shivering when he felt Brad's hand move between them, blocking his access and accidentally stimulating them both at the same time.
He suddenly couldn't seem to get enough air as he felt Brad's hand working against Lana, fingers probably dipping beneath the fabric of her panties and his knuckles brushing Clark's erection where Lana's hand wasn't gripping it. The feel of another guy's hand on him along with Lana's... it wasn't bad. Only the fact that it was Brad made it unwanted, but he couldn't deny that it felt good.
Bucking against those knuckles and thrusting into Lana's hand as she squeezed and worked him quickly, he shook, his whole body shivering again. “L-Lana,” he managed, breaking away from their kiss, and then his world seemed to explode in fire, his brain shorting out as he came all over the place, nowhere near ready to let go, but too turned on to hold it back any longer.
As his breath slowly returned along with his senses after a long moment, he opened his eyes to see Lana smirking at him, Brad still working her through her panties. She wiped her hand off on the blanket and grabbed Clark's long fingers to move them back to her, murmuring encouragement as she canted her hips into his touch.
He almost recoiled with shock as his hand met Brad's there, fingers sliding against each other as he pressed forward slowly, finding her wetness and exploring slowly.
“C'mon, you can do it, Clark,” she whispered to him before clutching his shoulder and pressing down onto both of their fingers, moaning with pleasure. “God, you both,” she panted as they worked her, Clark finally getting bolder and pressing his fingers deep inside her alongside Brad's. “Want you both. C'mon,” she whined in desperation.
Brad chuckled darkly and thrust his fingers deep, hard. “Gonna fuck you, baby. While Clark watches. And you can suck him if you want,” he taunted again, giving Clark a combative look.
And that seemed to throw Lana over the edge, a high-pitched scream tearing from her throat as she came, jerking in their arms. Clark was almost hard again already, just from the sight of it, the feel of her spasming around his fingers as her breath breezed past his neck and puffed against his chest.
But Brad was a man of his word, apparently, and withdrew his fingers and Clark's with them, moving to turn Lana all the way onto her back and slide into her in one quick thrust, his pants and underwear around his ankles and her panties shoved out of the way.
Clark felt his face go red and his vision with it at the sight of the borish jock just having his way with her, so he forced his eyes shut against the sight again, felt Lana grip his hand as the bed creaked and squeaked beneath them all, Brad thrusting in and out hard and fast, pounding her into the mattress. He couldn't stand it, not like this. Didn't know why he'd ever come up here in the first place.
And then Brad grunted and Lana squealed in delight as she tensed, her fingers tightening around Clark's. A whimper escaped him when Brad practically growled and thrust into her hard again, coming and claiming her as his.
When he opened his eyes, Brad was sliding out and pulling off a condom to throw it in the trash can. Clark couldn't help a bit of relief at that, at least for Lana's sake. Who knew where Brad had been, after all?
But the relief was short-lived when Brad let Lana up from the bed and slapped her on the ass, smirking, “Get cleaned up, sweet cheeks. Start a shower, and we'll be in in a minute.”
Lana only rolled her eyes at him as she sashayed into the adjacent bathroom, her skirt askew and swaying as she walked.
The words left Clark's mouth before he could stop them, “I really wish you wouldn't call her that.”
What was returned was the ugliest sneer Clark had ever had the displeasure of seeing on a person. “Oh, really?” Brad shot back. “You think you can do better, you little weakling? What are you gonna do, fight me for her? Huh? The boy that can't even hold it for two minutes before losing it all over the bed?”
The spiteful taunting infuriated Clark, but he couldn't exactly do anything about it. Not all messy and debauched and half-naked on Brad's bed. And certainly not when he wanted to put Brad's face through a wall, and could actually do it with very little effort.
“Nothin' to say? Well, how 'bout we put that mouth to good use then, and keep you shut up?”
It was only when Brad moved over him and grabbed him by the hair, tugging sharply, that Clark realized Brad was already hard again, and the sound of what was likely to be a very long shower, knowing Lana, drowned out the sudden hammering of his heart.
He should've figured this would go badly.
~*~*~*~