Therefore I am 23/?(WIP)
And we come to chapter 23. I had this one mostly finished, and then just didn't like the way the last part was playing out, so went and thrashed the last four or five pages and rewrote the way the last scene played out.
On to the story . . .
Predictably, Clark was gone when Lex woke up. Not a sign of him, save for the rumpled clothes he'd worn yesterday, in a pile at the end of his bed.
It pissed Lex off. Clark and his avoidance issues were just damned annoying. But at least he was - - metaphorically speaking - - out of Lex's hair.
So he showered and considered what to wear. His choices were dismal, but he decided on the jeans, since they actually fit - - all of Clark's pants were four inches too long - - and the dried stain on the inside was easily enough brushed away, and one of Clark's work shirts, which, tucked in with the sleeves rolled up could be considered casual chic. Dirt-cheap casual chic, but better than Lex's thrift store sweatshirt.
He checked on his portfolio once before he left, made a few trades - - ordered a few more if the price was right - - then headed out.
He put on Clark's sunglasses before he hit the street, figuring if somebody thought they recognized him - -what the hell - - it wasn't like he was planning on hiding forever. A few rumors floating around might even work to his advantage when he finally came out.
He had enough money for the metro, having raided Clark's laundry stash, and took it east, towards the Queensland Park borough. He didn't get a single curious stare the whole ride, which in and of itself was a little annoying. Really, there'd been a time, he'd not been able to walk down an uptown street and not have someone turn and stare. Of course the sort of people that took the metro on a daily basis might not be sort that regularly read Forbes, but still - -
He found the office he was looking for, on the second floor of an old converted brownstone, over a tattoo/acupuncturist studio.
'Lipscomb and Associates: Walk in's welcome', was stenciled on the door.
Lex smiled a little dryly at what he'd been reduced to, and walked in.
There was a pretty young Latino woman at a desk by the door, and a pit bull of a woman at a much more cluttered desk across the room. There were two doors leading to inner offices, one with the name Roy Lipscomb.
"Welcome to Lipscomb and Associates." The young Latino who he assumed was the receptionist smiled up at him. The pit bull across the room glowered warily and Lex figured in a fair fight, she'd probably kick his ass. He smiled back at the receptionist.
"I'm here to see Mr. Lipscomb."
"Oh. Did you have an appointment?"
Lex let his smile turn a little conspiratorial and countered. "Do I really need one?"
Her mouth quirked a little and she whispered. "No. But he likes it when I ask."
She got up and knocked once on the door with Lipscomb's name on it, before opening it and announcing. "Client to see you, Roy."
The old man behind the desk hastily shoved the magazine he'd been reading into a drawer and stood. Then, when Lex stepped into the doorway past the receptionist, his eyes widened in recognition a moment before he covered and commented. "Well, apparently you aren't as dead as your obituary claimed."
The corner of Lex's mouth quirked. He liked a man whose recovery time from surprise was zero to ninety. The picture in the law review was a least a decade old though, either that or the screws LuthorCorp had put to him after his suit had failed had aged him prematurely.
"That's too Goddamned bad." The man sat down and leaned back in his chair, glaring warily.
Grudges were to be expected. "I understand there might still be some bad blood," Lex said smoothly.
"Bad blood?" Lipscomb sneered. "It took me two years to get my license to practice in this state back."
Lex lifted a brow. "If I recall, your client perjured himself at your urging - - among other things."
"There was never proof of that. You paid off the grand jury."
"I did no such thing. It's hardly my fault you chose to run with a suit that not only had no merit, but was flat out fabrication to boot. You're lucky we didn't sue you for slander."
He hoped they hadn't. He hadn't been paying a lot of attention at the time at what Legal was doing. Courting Lana to piss off Clark and trying to discover the secrets of that second spacecraft had really eaten into his time.
Lipscomb rose, red-faced and angry and there was just the tell tale scent of cheap whisky in the room. Lex hoped the man hadn't turned into a lush. That was never good when going up against the bloodthirsty legal elite that limitless money could buy.
The receptionist was standing there aghast, and the pit bull had skulked up behind her, the both of them witnessing the exchange.
Lex ignored all the hostility in the room and strolled over to sit down in the chair across from Lipscomb. "You can choose to hold a grudge against me, of course. Or you can get over it and put that talent I know you have, to good use and go up against LuthorCorp again, this time with a client with considerably more of a legitimate claim. I guarantee you the payout will not disappoint."
Lipscomb stared at him a long moment, and there was intelligence behind those eyes. A great deal of intelligence. The man sat down, palms flat on the surface of his desk and said calmly.
"Lucinda, shut the door and hold my calls."
It was well into rush hour by the time Lex got back on the Metro and rush hour metro, he discovered was a crowded nightmare of invasion into personal space. If he never had to ride the thing again, it would be too soon.
Clark's apartment was a six block walk from the nearest station and Lex spent that time decompressing from the forty-five minute ride, the last ten of which had been spent with a grossly overweight, sweaty, unwholesomely smelling man pressed against his back. He'd almost missed his stop trying to squeeze through the press and out of the car before the doors closed.
It had been worth the effort though. Balls were rolling and he had a gut feeling that choosing Roy Lipscomb had been a good move. The old man was cagey and clever and not afraid to get his hands dirty.
The sky was just starting to purple as he reached Clark's building, Clark's spare key, which he'd found in a box of odds and ends by the door, in hand. There was an old man, sitting on the stone steps with a half smoked cigarette dangling from his mouth, as Lex walked up. He bypassed him without pausing, until the old man stopped him with a curious, "I know you."
Lex hesitated, looking over the rim of his sunglasses. "Do you?"
"Luthor. Yeah, Lionel Luthor's kid."
Fantastic. The first actual recognition he'd gotten in his time here and it was by association with his father. But he supposed when this old geezer had been a few decades closer to his prime, Lionel had been all the rage in Metropolis. He probably hadn't read a paper since.
Lex smiled coolly and let himself into the foyer past the row of beat up mailboxes, then up the stairs to Clark's apartment.
He actually got in the door before Clark pounced on him, coming from God knew where, because Lex was pretty sure he hadn't been in the living room when he'd stepped into the room. Maybe from up the hallway behind him, faster than human eye could follow. Regardless, he got jostled, rather gently considering Clark's strength against the wall, the door torn out of his hand and slammed shut and Clark was looming there, looking pissed off and crowding Lex's personal space. Which he'd had quite enough of on the metro, thank you, so he glared up and snapped.
"What the hell, Clark?"
"Where have you been?"
"None of your business. Back off." He didn't like to be grilled under the best of circumstances. Clark with that self-righteous, accusatory look in his eye, like Lex had been out performing autopsies on meteor freaks - - especially when he hadn't - -made him want to punch Clark in the face.
"What have you been doing, Lex? You've been gone all day?"
"And you were gone all night. Is there a problem?"
"Are you stupid?" Clark yelled, and God knew what the neighbors were hearing, because Clark's volume didn't seem to have a decibel control. "Do you not get that you've got a damned big target on your back? Has it slipped your mind that somebody took a shot at you yesterday? What the hell were you up to that was so damned important that you'd risk that?"
Lex yanked the business card he'd gotten from Lipscomb out of his pocket and shoved it in Clark's face. "I wasn't out hiring hitmen, you judgmental prick, I was hiring an attorney. That law abiding enough for you?"
Clark snatched the card out of his hand, glanced at it briefly before flicking it away. "It didn't occur to you to let me know? Or call?"
"You're not my secretary, I didn’t think you needed my itinerary."
Lex was starting to get the feeling something was off here. Clark wasn't battering him with accusations of all the things he suspected Lex had been out doing, he was upset because he hadn't let him know he was doing them. Clark had been worried. Very worried, apparently. About him.
He got it, of a sudden, and even with Clark standing there bitching about him about not knowing how to use a phone, Lex felt an almost painful knot in his chest.
"You were worried."
"Of course I was worried, there's a small army out gunning for you." Clark huffed in exasperation. His cheeks had that flush that Lex liked so much and it made the green of his big eyes all the more vivid.
"Thank you."
Clark blinked at him, not expecting that.
"I'd almost convinced myself that there wasn't anyone out there who would, anymore. Worry about my personal safety that is, not counting paid employees and stalkers. It's touching."
Clark opened his mouth. Shut it. Swallowed almost convulsively, as if he had no earthly idea what to do with that information. Eyes boring into Lex like he was trying to see into his skull, which was entirely possible, but probably not particularly informative - - grey matter, being grey matter.
Then, Clark stepped in and kissed him. To say it was a surprise, would be an understatement of some magnitude; Clark's big hands on the sides of his face, Clark's tongue in his mouth, Clark's scent permeating everything and God, he was really beginning to love about 50 percent of these flip flops of Clark's.
But it was over too soon, Clark breaking off, standing there with his hands pressed against the wall, voice full of anguish when he said, "I don't know what I'm doing."
"I know." Lex didn't touch him. Just stood there, heart pounding, between Clark's braced arms, waiting for Clark to reach whatever conclusion Clark needed to reach. Pushing him now would be counterproductive, when Clark was already halfway there on his own.
"You went to see a lawyer?" Finally, Clark lifted his eyes, gaze bright, almost fevered. Maybe he'd just managed to register that fact. Lex suspected he hadn't been paying a great deal of attention when he'd first mentioned it.
Lex canted his head, meeting Clark's stare. "I did."
Almost, Clark seemed pained. He drew a breath.
"Lex, I - - you - -" He groaned, and leaned in again, soft mouth, warm tongue, slick teeth and Lex pressed forward, two fistfuls of Clark's lapels, and to hell with technique and calculated restraint, when instinct worked so much better.
Besides, Clark sloppily trying to devour his mouth didn't seem a thing that needed schooling so much at the moment, what with Clark's hands grasping his ass and dragging him up against his body. He wrapped an arm around Clark's neck, a leg around his thighs and engaged in a battle of who was going to suck whose tongue into their mouths.
Clark won that one, when Lex's back hit the sofa, and Clark's weight hit him, making him gasp a little from lost air. He hadn't even realized they'd been moving that direction and it was vaguely disconcerting, but he got over it when Clark ground his hips against him, simultaneously trying to crawl inside Lex's mouth and get his shirt untucked. And when his big hand splayed out across the skin of Lex's stomach, fingertips pressing in enough to make muscles jump, whatever blood hadn't already drained to his cock, rushed there in a mass exodus, leaving him light headed.
He really had planned to take charge of this, when Clark worked up the nerve to engage again - - but honestly, he was having problems forming coherent thought, much less orchestrating a seduction. It was all he could do just to get his hands on as much of Clark as he could.
He slid his hands under the waist of Clark's pants and dug his fingers into the swell of Clark's ass. Solid, hard muscle that flexed under his touch and made Clark gasp and break the kiss, then take it up again somewhere around the area where Lex's jaw met his jugular. And that was a sensitive spot. A very sensitive spot and Lex arched his neck and shuddered full body as Clark's mouth locked on and sucked.
Lex slid a hand around Clark's hip, wedged it between them. Felt the moist, burning tip of Clark's erection that had thrust up past the boundaries of his pants, pressed his palm hard against it, and Clark gasped and jerked. He pulled back, pushing himself up enough for Lex to shift his hand and encircle the uncut head.
"Lex - -" Clark stared down, sex-hazed eyes, mouth full and red and wet and so damned hot - - and there was a spark of realization - - of fear even - - of what they were about.
"Just let me, Clark - -" And if his voice shook, well, that was okay, since Clark was trembling all over. Lex stroked his thumb across the tip of Clark's cock, brushing foreskin back, and sliding across the slick glans beneath.
Clark made a helpless sound, shut his eyes. Time was his enemy. Time would allow Clark to think up reasons why he shouldn't be in this position, regardless if his body wanted to hear them. But Lex's hand sliding inside his pants, grasping the length of his cock was a sure method of banishing thought processes in general. He was deft enough to manage Clark's buckle one handed, and Clark sprung free, heavy and just damned huge. He'd suspected from the shape defined by Clark's wet boxers, by the press of it against him through various layers of clothes, but there was nothing like hands on experience to get the true measure of a man.
Clark shuddered, muscles twitching all over his body, shoulders rigid, straining at the fabric of his jacket. But his cock was full and hard in Lex's palm, leaking at the tip, throbbing with the beat of his pulse. Lex wanted to see it up close and personal, to pull back the foreskin and lick the rosy tip and hear Clark scream from it. His balls tightened at the idea alone.
He tried to pull Clark down, but Clark wasn't budging, frozen above him, thick black lashes stark against flushed cheeks, fingers gouging holes in the sofa. So he pulled himself up, one hand on the back of Clark's neck, the other clenched around his cock, stroking slow and measured.
"It's okay. This is okay," he said, close against Clark's neck, following the words with his lips, and muscles twitched in Clark's jaw. There was a thigh between his legs, pressed hard against the bulge in his own pants, and when Clark shifted, Lex groaned, digging his nails into Clark's shoulder, tightening his grip on Clark's cock that might have caused another man - - a normal man - - considerable pain. Clark just gasped, eyes wide, wrapped an arm around Lex's back, hauling him close, and thrust into his curled fist.
When Clark came it was fast and hard, warm ejaculate, slicking Lex's hand and soaking into their shirts. For a moment, he knelt there, arm tight around Lex's waist, forehead pressed into Lex's shoulder, heart beating fast enough that Lex could feel it against his own chest.
Even with his own erection throbbing untended in his pants, it was good. Like a treasured prize he'd never thought he'd win. Clark, spent and warm and smelling of sex. Or just simply - - Clark.
It couldn't last. Of course it couldn't last. He felt it the moment Clark tensed. Almost expected to be shoved away as Clark's higher brain functions kicked back in, but Clark just loosened his grip and fell back against the opposite arm of the couch, staring at Lex appalled. Or maybe that was just his imagination or ingrained expectation from too many other times when Clark had looked at him with revulsion in his eyes.
Lex leaned back against the other arm, staring unflinchingly, casually lifted the hand glistening with Clark's ejaculate to his mouth, licking the ball of his thumb.
"So? Was it good for you?"
Clark blinked, eyes fixed on Lex's mouth.
Lex let his eyes drift down, to Clark's flaccid penis, which was not entirely unimpressive even deflated. Clark followed his gaze, bit his lip and shifted a knee in an almost charmingly modest move to cover it. Then his eyes drifted to Lex, and Lex's still tented jeans - - his erection was stubbornly tight and hard inside unforgiving denim.
"Lex - -" There was something that almost sounded like guilt in his voice and Lex wouldn't have it.
"Did you want to take care of this for me?" he asked, pouring as much silk into his voice as he could, when the lower regions of his body were humming with frustration. "You know, tit for tat? No? Allow me, then."
He licked another streak of Clark's come off his hand, and reached for his zipper. His cock sprang out, thrusting up out of the slit in his borrowed boxers, and Clark's eyes were glued to it like he'd never seen a penis in his life. Almost, almost Clark's fixed attention was as satisfying as Clark's hand would have been. Now, Clark's mouth - - that would have been a different story.
He curled his fingers around his erection and stroked down, hand slick from Clark's leavings. He dropped one leg to the floor, so Clark could get an unobstructed view and jerked himself off. Leaned his head back against the arm of the couch and enjoyed it, until the couch springs creaked with Clark's movement and Clark's weight made the cushion Lex was sprawled on dip. He looked up and Clark was looming over him, intense and serious and maybe, maybe the look in his eyes had been something other than appalled.
Maybe Clark was just so damned new at this that he didn't know how to react to the first man that had ever jerked him off. Maybe a young man - -and Clark was younger at twenty-two than Lex thought he'd ever been in his life - - needed a little time to adjust to the idea that he wasn't as heterosexual as he'd hoped.
Clark's hand moved down, fingertips trailing hesitantly across Lex's own fingers and up the underside of his erection and Lex's eyes followed the movement helplessly, hand frozen. When Clark ran the ball of his thumb across the head of his cock, tentatively the first time, then again, stroking slowly, as if he were acquainting himself with the feel of a circumcised penis, Lex thought his heart skipped a few precious beats, then lodged somewhere in the area of his throat. Everything else went rather mind-blowingly white around the edges. And it was just Clark's fucking thumb.
When Clark's hand actually curled around Lex's, big and warm and softer than you'd think of a man who'd grown up on a farm, Lex's head fell back on the couch arm, heat like noise spreading out from his cock, crowding out everything else but Clark's hand tight over his, stroking the length of him.
"God - - God - -" It rushed up, orgasm slamming into him with unexpected violence. And really, the sex had been sort of ungainly, and vaguely uncomfortable fully dressed, and Clark hadn't put all that much effort into it - - and still - - just fuck.
When he could think again, see again, Clark was still leaning over him, this almost quizzical expression on his face. God knew what was going on behind his eyes, because Clark wasn't talking. Lex was having trouble coming up with casual, after mutual-masturbation small talk himself.
Clark swallowed finally, Adam's apple bobbing, and pushed himself up. He tucked himself back in and zipped up with a predictable flash of embarrassment, licked his lips, and looked around the apartment as if he weren't quite sure where he was exactly. Lex was counting the seconds until he fled, because of course that would be the next step in this dance.
"I'm hungry," he said finally, voice a little dull. Shell-shocked maybe.
"Okay." Lex agreed warily.
Clark turned around, like he was looking for something, then absently patted his pockets and discovered his wallet still in his back pocket and nodded to himself.
He headed for the door. Stopped and looked back without really meeting Lex's eyes.
"You coming?"
To be continued . . .
On to the story . . .
Predictably, Clark was gone when Lex woke up. Not a sign of him, save for the rumpled clothes he'd worn yesterday, in a pile at the end of his bed.
It pissed Lex off. Clark and his avoidance issues were just damned annoying. But at least he was - - metaphorically speaking - - out of Lex's hair.
So he showered and considered what to wear. His choices were dismal, but he decided on the jeans, since they actually fit - - all of Clark's pants were four inches too long - - and the dried stain on the inside was easily enough brushed away, and one of Clark's work shirts, which, tucked in with the sleeves rolled up could be considered casual chic. Dirt-cheap casual chic, but better than Lex's thrift store sweatshirt.
He checked on his portfolio once before he left, made a few trades - - ordered a few more if the price was right - - then headed out.
He put on Clark's sunglasses before he hit the street, figuring if somebody thought they recognized him - -what the hell - - it wasn't like he was planning on hiding forever. A few rumors floating around might even work to his advantage when he finally came out.
He had enough money for the metro, having raided Clark's laundry stash, and took it east, towards the Queensland Park borough. He didn't get a single curious stare the whole ride, which in and of itself was a little annoying. Really, there'd been a time, he'd not been able to walk down an uptown street and not have someone turn and stare. Of course the sort of people that took the metro on a daily basis might not be sort that regularly read Forbes, but still - -
He found the office he was looking for, on the second floor of an old converted brownstone, over a tattoo/acupuncturist studio.
'Lipscomb and Associates: Walk in's welcome', was stenciled on the door.
Lex smiled a little dryly at what he'd been reduced to, and walked in.
There was a pretty young Latino woman at a desk by the door, and a pit bull of a woman at a much more cluttered desk across the room. There were two doors leading to inner offices, one with the name Roy Lipscomb.
"Welcome to Lipscomb and Associates." The young Latino who he assumed was the receptionist smiled up at him. The pit bull across the room glowered warily and Lex figured in a fair fight, she'd probably kick his ass. He smiled back at the receptionist.
"I'm here to see Mr. Lipscomb."
"Oh. Did you have an appointment?"
Lex let his smile turn a little conspiratorial and countered. "Do I really need one?"
Her mouth quirked a little and she whispered. "No. But he likes it when I ask."
She got up and knocked once on the door with Lipscomb's name on it, before opening it and announcing. "Client to see you, Roy."
The old man behind the desk hastily shoved the magazine he'd been reading into a drawer and stood. Then, when Lex stepped into the doorway past the receptionist, his eyes widened in recognition a moment before he covered and commented. "Well, apparently you aren't as dead as your obituary claimed."
The corner of Lex's mouth quirked. He liked a man whose recovery time from surprise was zero to ninety. The picture in the law review was a least a decade old though, either that or the screws LuthorCorp had put to him after his suit had failed had aged him prematurely.
"That's too Goddamned bad." The man sat down and leaned back in his chair, glaring warily.
Grudges were to be expected. "I understand there might still be some bad blood," Lex said smoothly.
"Bad blood?" Lipscomb sneered. "It took me two years to get my license to practice in this state back."
Lex lifted a brow. "If I recall, your client perjured himself at your urging - - among other things."
"There was never proof of that. You paid off the grand jury."
"I did no such thing. It's hardly my fault you chose to run with a suit that not only had no merit, but was flat out fabrication to boot. You're lucky we didn't sue you for slander."
He hoped they hadn't. He hadn't been paying a lot of attention at the time at what Legal was doing. Courting Lana to piss off Clark and trying to discover the secrets of that second spacecraft had really eaten into his time.
Lipscomb rose, red-faced and angry and there was just the tell tale scent of cheap whisky in the room. Lex hoped the man hadn't turned into a lush. That was never good when going up against the bloodthirsty legal elite that limitless money could buy.
The receptionist was standing there aghast, and the pit bull had skulked up behind her, the both of them witnessing the exchange.
Lex ignored all the hostility in the room and strolled over to sit down in the chair across from Lipscomb. "You can choose to hold a grudge against me, of course. Or you can get over it and put that talent I know you have, to good use and go up against LuthorCorp again, this time with a client with considerably more of a legitimate claim. I guarantee you the payout will not disappoint."
Lipscomb stared at him a long moment, and there was intelligence behind those eyes. A great deal of intelligence. The man sat down, palms flat on the surface of his desk and said calmly.
"Lucinda, shut the door and hold my calls."
It was well into rush hour by the time Lex got back on the Metro and rush hour metro, he discovered was a crowded nightmare of invasion into personal space. If he never had to ride the thing again, it would be too soon.
Clark's apartment was a six block walk from the nearest station and Lex spent that time decompressing from the forty-five minute ride, the last ten of which had been spent with a grossly overweight, sweaty, unwholesomely smelling man pressed against his back. He'd almost missed his stop trying to squeeze through the press and out of the car before the doors closed.
It had been worth the effort though. Balls were rolling and he had a gut feeling that choosing Roy Lipscomb had been a good move. The old man was cagey and clever and not afraid to get his hands dirty.
The sky was just starting to purple as he reached Clark's building, Clark's spare key, which he'd found in a box of odds and ends by the door, in hand. There was an old man, sitting on the stone steps with a half smoked cigarette dangling from his mouth, as Lex walked up. He bypassed him without pausing, until the old man stopped him with a curious, "I know you."
Lex hesitated, looking over the rim of his sunglasses. "Do you?"
"Luthor. Yeah, Lionel Luthor's kid."
Fantastic. The first actual recognition he'd gotten in his time here and it was by association with his father. But he supposed when this old geezer had been a few decades closer to his prime, Lionel had been all the rage in Metropolis. He probably hadn't read a paper since.
Lex smiled coolly and let himself into the foyer past the row of beat up mailboxes, then up the stairs to Clark's apartment.
He actually got in the door before Clark pounced on him, coming from God knew where, because Lex was pretty sure he hadn't been in the living room when he'd stepped into the room. Maybe from up the hallway behind him, faster than human eye could follow. Regardless, he got jostled, rather gently considering Clark's strength against the wall, the door torn out of his hand and slammed shut and Clark was looming there, looking pissed off and crowding Lex's personal space. Which he'd had quite enough of on the metro, thank you, so he glared up and snapped.
"What the hell, Clark?"
"Where have you been?"
"None of your business. Back off." He didn't like to be grilled under the best of circumstances. Clark with that self-righteous, accusatory look in his eye, like Lex had been out performing autopsies on meteor freaks - - especially when he hadn't - -made him want to punch Clark in the face.
"What have you been doing, Lex? You've been gone all day?"
"And you were gone all night. Is there a problem?"
"Are you stupid?" Clark yelled, and God knew what the neighbors were hearing, because Clark's volume didn't seem to have a decibel control. "Do you not get that you've got a damned big target on your back? Has it slipped your mind that somebody took a shot at you yesterday? What the hell were you up to that was so damned important that you'd risk that?"
Lex yanked the business card he'd gotten from Lipscomb out of his pocket and shoved it in Clark's face. "I wasn't out hiring hitmen, you judgmental prick, I was hiring an attorney. That law abiding enough for you?"
Clark snatched the card out of his hand, glanced at it briefly before flicking it away. "It didn't occur to you to let me know? Or call?"
"You're not my secretary, I didn’t think you needed my itinerary."
Lex was starting to get the feeling something was off here. Clark wasn't battering him with accusations of all the things he suspected Lex had been out doing, he was upset because he hadn't let him know he was doing them. Clark had been worried. Very worried, apparently. About him.
He got it, of a sudden, and even with Clark standing there bitching about him about not knowing how to use a phone, Lex felt an almost painful knot in his chest.
"You were worried."
"Of course I was worried, there's a small army out gunning for you." Clark huffed in exasperation. His cheeks had that flush that Lex liked so much and it made the green of his big eyes all the more vivid.
"Thank you."
Clark blinked at him, not expecting that.
"I'd almost convinced myself that there wasn't anyone out there who would, anymore. Worry about my personal safety that is, not counting paid employees and stalkers. It's touching."
Clark opened his mouth. Shut it. Swallowed almost convulsively, as if he had no earthly idea what to do with that information. Eyes boring into Lex like he was trying to see into his skull, which was entirely possible, but probably not particularly informative - - grey matter, being grey matter.
Then, Clark stepped in and kissed him. To say it was a surprise, would be an understatement of some magnitude; Clark's big hands on the sides of his face, Clark's tongue in his mouth, Clark's scent permeating everything and God, he was really beginning to love about 50 percent of these flip flops of Clark's.
But it was over too soon, Clark breaking off, standing there with his hands pressed against the wall, voice full of anguish when he said, "I don't know what I'm doing."
"I know." Lex didn't touch him. Just stood there, heart pounding, between Clark's braced arms, waiting for Clark to reach whatever conclusion Clark needed to reach. Pushing him now would be counterproductive, when Clark was already halfway there on his own.
"You went to see a lawyer?" Finally, Clark lifted his eyes, gaze bright, almost fevered. Maybe he'd just managed to register that fact. Lex suspected he hadn't been paying a great deal of attention when he'd first mentioned it.
Lex canted his head, meeting Clark's stare. "I did."
Almost, Clark seemed pained. He drew a breath.
"Lex, I - - you - -" He groaned, and leaned in again, soft mouth, warm tongue, slick teeth and Lex pressed forward, two fistfuls of Clark's lapels, and to hell with technique and calculated restraint, when instinct worked so much better.
Besides, Clark sloppily trying to devour his mouth didn't seem a thing that needed schooling so much at the moment, what with Clark's hands grasping his ass and dragging him up against his body. He wrapped an arm around Clark's neck, a leg around his thighs and engaged in a battle of who was going to suck whose tongue into their mouths.
Clark won that one, when Lex's back hit the sofa, and Clark's weight hit him, making him gasp a little from lost air. He hadn't even realized they'd been moving that direction and it was vaguely disconcerting, but he got over it when Clark ground his hips against him, simultaneously trying to crawl inside Lex's mouth and get his shirt untucked. And when his big hand splayed out across the skin of Lex's stomach, fingertips pressing in enough to make muscles jump, whatever blood hadn't already drained to his cock, rushed there in a mass exodus, leaving him light headed.
He really had planned to take charge of this, when Clark worked up the nerve to engage again - - but honestly, he was having problems forming coherent thought, much less orchestrating a seduction. It was all he could do just to get his hands on as much of Clark as he could.
He slid his hands under the waist of Clark's pants and dug his fingers into the swell of Clark's ass. Solid, hard muscle that flexed under his touch and made Clark gasp and break the kiss, then take it up again somewhere around the area where Lex's jaw met his jugular. And that was a sensitive spot. A very sensitive spot and Lex arched his neck and shuddered full body as Clark's mouth locked on and sucked.
Lex slid a hand around Clark's hip, wedged it between them. Felt the moist, burning tip of Clark's erection that had thrust up past the boundaries of his pants, pressed his palm hard against it, and Clark gasped and jerked. He pulled back, pushing himself up enough for Lex to shift his hand and encircle the uncut head.
"Lex - -" Clark stared down, sex-hazed eyes, mouth full and red and wet and so damned hot - - and there was a spark of realization - - of fear even - - of what they were about.
"Just let me, Clark - -" And if his voice shook, well, that was okay, since Clark was trembling all over. Lex stroked his thumb across the tip of Clark's cock, brushing foreskin back, and sliding across the slick glans beneath.
Clark made a helpless sound, shut his eyes. Time was his enemy. Time would allow Clark to think up reasons why he shouldn't be in this position, regardless if his body wanted to hear them. But Lex's hand sliding inside his pants, grasping the length of his cock was a sure method of banishing thought processes in general. He was deft enough to manage Clark's buckle one handed, and Clark sprung free, heavy and just damned huge. He'd suspected from the shape defined by Clark's wet boxers, by the press of it against him through various layers of clothes, but there was nothing like hands on experience to get the true measure of a man.
Clark shuddered, muscles twitching all over his body, shoulders rigid, straining at the fabric of his jacket. But his cock was full and hard in Lex's palm, leaking at the tip, throbbing with the beat of his pulse. Lex wanted to see it up close and personal, to pull back the foreskin and lick the rosy tip and hear Clark scream from it. His balls tightened at the idea alone.
He tried to pull Clark down, but Clark wasn't budging, frozen above him, thick black lashes stark against flushed cheeks, fingers gouging holes in the sofa. So he pulled himself up, one hand on the back of Clark's neck, the other clenched around his cock, stroking slow and measured.
"It's okay. This is okay," he said, close against Clark's neck, following the words with his lips, and muscles twitched in Clark's jaw. There was a thigh between his legs, pressed hard against the bulge in his own pants, and when Clark shifted, Lex groaned, digging his nails into Clark's shoulder, tightening his grip on Clark's cock that might have caused another man - - a normal man - - considerable pain. Clark just gasped, eyes wide, wrapped an arm around Lex's back, hauling him close, and thrust into his curled fist.
When Clark came it was fast and hard, warm ejaculate, slicking Lex's hand and soaking into their shirts. For a moment, he knelt there, arm tight around Lex's waist, forehead pressed into Lex's shoulder, heart beating fast enough that Lex could feel it against his own chest.
Even with his own erection throbbing untended in his pants, it was good. Like a treasured prize he'd never thought he'd win. Clark, spent and warm and smelling of sex. Or just simply - - Clark.
It couldn't last. Of course it couldn't last. He felt it the moment Clark tensed. Almost expected to be shoved away as Clark's higher brain functions kicked back in, but Clark just loosened his grip and fell back against the opposite arm of the couch, staring at Lex appalled. Or maybe that was just his imagination or ingrained expectation from too many other times when Clark had looked at him with revulsion in his eyes.
Lex leaned back against the other arm, staring unflinchingly, casually lifted the hand glistening with Clark's ejaculate to his mouth, licking the ball of his thumb.
"So? Was it good for you?"
Clark blinked, eyes fixed on Lex's mouth.
Lex let his eyes drift down, to Clark's flaccid penis, which was not entirely unimpressive even deflated. Clark followed his gaze, bit his lip and shifted a knee in an almost charmingly modest move to cover it. Then his eyes drifted to Lex, and Lex's still tented jeans - - his erection was stubbornly tight and hard inside unforgiving denim.
"Lex - -" There was something that almost sounded like guilt in his voice and Lex wouldn't have it.
"Did you want to take care of this for me?" he asked, pouring as much silk into his voice as he could, when the lower regions of his body were humming with frustration. "You know, tit for tat? No? Allow me, then."
He licked another streak of Clark's come off his hand, and reached for his zipper. His cock sprang out, thrusting up out of the slit in his borrowed boxers, and Clark's eyes were glued to it like he'd never seen a penis in his life. Almost, almost Clark's fixed attention was as satisfying as Clark's hand would have been. Now, Clark's mouth - - that would have been a different story.
He curled his fingers around his erection and stroked down, hand slick from Clark's leavings. He dropped one leg to the floor, so Clark could get an unobstructed view and jerked himself off. Leaned his head back against the arm of the couch and enjoyed it, until the couch springs creaked with Clark's movement and Clark's weight made the cushion Lex was sprawled on dip. He looked up and Clark was looming over him, intense and serious and maybe, maybe the look in his eyes had been something other than appalled.
Maybe Clark was just so damned new at this that he didn't know how to react to the first man that had ever jerked him off. Maybe a young man - -and Clark was younger at twenty-two than Lex thought he'd ever been in his life - - needed a little time to adjust to the idea that he wasn't as heterosexual as he'd hoped.
Clark's hand moved down, fingertips trailing hesitantly across Lex's own fingers and up the underside of his erection and Lex's eyes followed the movement helplessly, hand frozen. When Clark ran the ball of his thumb across the head of his cock, tentatively the first time, then again, stroking slowly, as if he were acquainting himself with the feel of a circumcised penis, Lex thought his heart skipped a few precious beats, then lodged somewhere in the area of his throat. Everything else went rather mind-blowingly white around the edges. And it was just Clark's fucking thumb.
When Clark's hand actually curled around Lex's, big and warm and softer than you'd think of a man who'd grown up on a farm, Lex's head fell back on the couch arm, heat like noise spreading out from his cock, crowding out everything else but Clark's hand tight over his, stroking the length of him.
"God - - God - -" It rushed up, orgasm slamming into him with unexpected violence. And really, the sex had been sort of ungainly, and vaguely uncomfortable fully dressed, and Clark hadn't put all that much effort into it - - and still - - just fuck.
When he could think again, see again, Clark was still leaning over him, this almost quizzical expression on his face. God knew what was going on behind his eyes, because Clark wasn't talking. Lex was having trouble coming up with casual, after mutual-masturbation small talk himself.
Clark swallowed finally, Adam's apple bobbing, and pushed himself up. He tucked himself back in and zipped up with a predictable flash of embarrassment, licked his lips, and looked around the apartment as if he weren't quite sure where he was exactly. Lex was counting the seconds until he fled, because of course that would be the next step in this dance.
"I'm hungry," he said finally, voice a little dull. Shell-shocked maybe.
"Okay." Lex agreed warily.
Clark turned around, like he was looking for something, then absently patted his pockets and discovered his wallet still in his back pocket and nodded to himself.
He headed for the door. Stopped and looked back without really meeting Lex's eyes.
"You coming?"
To be continued . . .