Archiving in case of a hard drive crash. Originally posted in rounds_of_kink . I love writing Smallville, especially early Clex--it's like a warm, slashy blanket.
"Unexpected Peril." The kink was accidental stimulation, which isn't my usual thing, but I had fun with this one. No spoilers, no real time setting. NC-17, Clex.
Summary: "That's the thing about Smallville. It offers plenty of opportunities to cop a feel, and Clark's a good guy and all, but he's not a saint."
Follow cut to story...
Clark tries not to let himself think about it most of the time, because he really shouldn’t enjoy it. But sometimes…alone in the barn at night, trying to sleep, when it’s all dark—or in Geography class, because that’s a whole other kind of darkness—he finds his mind straying towards the sense memories involuntarily.
Here’s the thing about Smallville. All this life-in-peril stuff? It gets prosaic, after a while. Whole new levels of weird and freaky keep being reached, but Clark’s stopped feeling it, mostly. The difference threshold is just too high. Seen one flock of meteor-infected sheep, seen ‘em all, right?
So, yeah, the life-in-peril stuff does little to wow any of them nowadays. Oh, he still freaks whenever a mutant snaps and nabs Lana or Lex or Chloe or Pete—he can freak with the best of them—but it’s just stopped feeling…sensational. Every other Tuesday, it’s another kidnapping. Routine stuff.
But the part Clark tries not to think about? Well, that comes after the rescue. Right after the rescue, in fact—the part where he rushes them to safety while they cling to him. A lot. Lana curls into his chest, while Chloe wraps her arms around his neck and presses her entire body against his and—yeah.
And Lex. Lex isn’t so much for the being-carried-in-Clark’s-arms thing, but Clark’s noticed a definite trend of Lex being thrown into him, falling onto him, jumping back against him. And Lex always…lingers. Holds onto Clark by the arms until he’s regained his footing. Catches his breath on Clark’s chest while they’re both flat on the ground. Grabs Clark by the hips to push him back from the impeding danger, and he’s always snug against Clark, and…
That’s the thing about Smallville. It offers plenty of opportunities to cop a feel, and Clark’s a good guy and all, but he’s not a saint. So yeah, when those long hours of Geography stretch on, his mind occasionally drifts—to Lana’s body curling into his, Chloe’s chest pressed to his, Lex’s hands spanning his hips and his chest and his arms…
Clark starts at Pete’s hiss, snapping awake. They’re supposed to be reading the next chapter intently right now. Clark’s been staring out the window; Mrs. Hund’s been glaring at him for god knows how long. He shoots Pete a grateful look and goes back to the book. The Orinoco River bends through Venezuela before it forms the border with Colombia, curving along Clark’s body, fitting neatly into the circle of his arms where the blast had thrown Lex into him, and shit, Lex’s leg hooked around his ankle as he tumbled and Clark had to catch him, flat expanse of Lex’s shoulder blades hard and muscled underneath his hands and Lex’s breath a hot burst on his neck—
Okay. So maybe he thinks about it a lot.
It didn’t happen the way he expected. When he allowed himself to imagine it—and for that he always waited until he was absolutely alone—he saw it happening after some big rescue, catching the object of his affection and both of them toppling to the ground. Lana soft and gentle, tucked into his arms; Chloe fierce and alive, breathing hard beneath him; Lex, sometimes under him but usually on top of him, legs tangled and hips fitting together just right, just once, Lex’s eyes bright like they get when he’s alone with Clark, Lex’s long, forbidden body stretched along his…
It didn’t happen the way he expected. In the end, he figures he should thank his parents—not that he’ll tell them that when they inevitably find out. They’ll be pissed enough. But it’s their date night in Metropolis that leaves Clark home alone and eventually sends him out wandering, looking for something to do. He winds up near the Talon only to find the lights on after closing. Lana and Lex are inside going over reports, and, even though he really has very little to offer to the situation, they insist he stay.
Lana is curled up in one of the more comfortable chairs, papers spread across the table in front of her in neat little piles and coffee cup affixed to her hand. Lex looks as calm as he ever does around most people: sprawled on the couch, one leg propped up to support a quarterly report while the other splays a little too far open for Clark’s tastes. Or, at least, his while-in-public tastes. Nevertheless he settles on the other end of the couch, knee bumping Lex’s companionably. Lex glances up at him and slides him his Clark-grin, the easy one, content and indulgent—although whom he indulges, Clark or himself, Clark’s never quite sure.
Lana’s chatty, talking about school and their friends and the Talon’s profit margins. Clark goes along, Lex interjecting occasionally. It’s the most relaxed evening he’s had in a while, and that’s probably what does it: he lets his guard down.
Lana glances at the clock behind the counter and groans, gathering up the papers they eschewed half an hour ago. “Oh, man, I’m late. I told Nell I’d be home ten minutes ago.”
“If you want, Lana, Clark and I can close up,” Lex offers, straightening up in his seat. “You could head out now, lessen the blow.”
“The machines are all on, the lights—I can’t leave you with that much work when you came to help me with these.” Lana frowns at the thought but she’s worrying her bottom lip, anxious.
Clark stands, hands out. “Go, Lana. Nell doesn’t like you spending so much time here as it is. We’ll take of it, no problem. You can give us free coffee for a week if it makes you feel better.”
Lana smiles big. “You’re on,” she says, tossing her bag over her shoulder. “Thank you guys so much!” And she’s out the door fast enough to make Clark wonder what she’s putting in the cappuccino.
Nothing would’ve happened. They’ve been here dozens of times before—alone, loose enough to shove each other around jokingly—and nothing’s ever happened. He expected a big, life-in-peril thing. He didn’t expect a car to backfire two blocks down just as he and Lex are sliding past each other behind the counter, didn’t expect Lex to startle back when he startles forward, didn’t expect Lex’s hand on his waist and Lex’s ass on his cock. They freeze, too close, too warm. Clark’s been edging toward half-hard ever since Lex’s calf settled against his on the couch an hour ago but he’s all the way there now, because Lex could probably breathe on him right and he’d get hard.
They haven’t moved. It’s too still without the hum of the espresso machine, too dim now they’ve turned off most the lights. Lex is breathing too carefully, and they haven’t moved and there’s no way Lex doesn’t know he’s hard but Lex hasn’t moved yet and Clark barely stops himself from groaning when fingers flex around his hip.
“Car backfired,” he says finally, softly.
“Yeah,” Lex replies simply, no more elegantly, and it’s only now that Clark realizes he’s got his hand wrapped around Lex’s bicep. He can’t move it now, not when Lex is still there, but he can’t stop noticing it. Lex’s arm is strong and a little tensed, adrenaline still high.
They still haven’t moved. It’s like a sick game of chicken. “No… lives in peril,” Clark offers and what is he even saying anymore? Lex knows he’s turned on and he’s not going anywhere. Lex knows he’s turned on and Lex is staying, body flush against his.
Lex shifts, and for one awful moment Clark’s terrified that he’s wrong, but Lex just moves to get a look at him. Lex’s eyes are dark and evaluative, but they fix on Clark’s mouth a second too long before meeting Clark’s eyes, and he can’t be wrong, he just can’t be. “What are we doing here, Clark?” he asks, glancing at Clark’s hand on him.
Clark drops it, flustered under Lex’s gaze. In his mind this was always unnecessary; they just sort of… fell into it. He doesn’t know how to deal with this, with Lex’s full attention and that dark shimmer of want in his eyes. “That’s, uh. That’s kind of your call.”
“No, Clark,” and his voice is firm and low and sexy and his grip on Clark tightens and Clark wants. “It’s your call. What happens now is your call. Tell me.”
It should be more of a decision, but it’s not. It’s just, “Can we- I’d like it if… if you’d kiss me. Right now.”
The corner of Lex’s mouth quirks up amusedly, but the roughness of his voice undercuts it. “Think I can do that,” and Lex is turning to face him fully, wrapping a hand around the nape of his neck and pulling him in.
Clark’s knees buckle embarrassingly when Lex’s mouth meets his, but it’s okay, because Lex has him pinned against the back counter. Which is good, because Lex’s mouth is hot and perfect and unrelenting and he’s having trouble standing. Slow at first, easing Clark into it, but Lex’s tongue is in his mouth and Lex’s teeth are nipping at his bottom lip and Clark just has to hold on, lose himself in hot and sweet and god, he never imagined this. Didn’t know he’s been waiting for it so long.
Lex is still going slow, taking his time, and Clark shudders at the thought of Lex enjoying this, enjoying him. A rough thumb strokes at the edge of his jaw and Lex has teased his shirt up, sliding fingertips along the strip of skin above the line of his boxers. He’s driving Clark crazy, is what he’s doing, and Clark wonders how much Lex will take. What Lex will let him do.
But then, Lex has never told him no.
They break off to catch their breath and Lex thankfully stays where he is, too close to look Clark in the eye. Clark’s grateful for that; he might be too embarrassed to ask otherwise. “Lex, I. I don’t know what to do, but I want to… What can I do?”
Lex laughs, maybe a little hysterically, and pulls back to meet Clark’s gaze. His mouth is red and he’s panting. Because of Clark. “Whatever you want.” He takes Clark’s hand and slides it down to his pants. Clark swallows a gasp at Lex’s erection as Lex leans in to whisper, “I’m up for anything you want to do, Clark,” and it should be stupid, it should be a ridiculous pun, but coming from Lex it’s the dirtiest, sexiest thing he’s ever heard.
He wants a million different things. His fantasies never covered this, he’d never thought Lex’d actually… he wants everything. To kiss Lex, to touch him, to make him- Thinking the word makes Clark flush red but Lex doesn’t look much better, so Clark manages, “Don’t know how. I just want you.”
Lex groans, laughing into it. “Jesus,” he says shakily, and they’re still so close it makes Clark feel heady and warm, burning with a lowdown ache. Lex’s eyes go serious when he continues, “Are you sure? I need to know that you are, Clark. I can’t- Tell me you’re sure.”
Clark gulps under that gaze again, but he knows his answer. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure, Lex. Been sure for a while-” and huh, he hadn’t known that was true, but tonight’s full of revelations, “-but I don’t know how to-”
The press of Lex’s lips is hard and hungry, none of the trepidation from before. He’s got fingers tangled in Clark’s hair, controlling the kiss, and he snaps their hips together. The friction between his and Lex’s erections is enough to make Clark tremble with arousal, but the next thrust—harder, more purposeful, no masking what this is—makes him break off. “Lex,” he breathes, “Lex, please, I need you.”
He doesn’t remember much about how they got to the couch, because Lex went back to kissing him, and he’s finding it hard to focus outside Lex’s mouth and hands on him. He thinks they knock over a table, the table Lana had been at not too long ago and they’re in the Talon, for god’s sake. Lex pushes him down, stretches him out on the couch before straddling his hips and returning to melting Clark’s brain with his tongue. He’s not sure when Lex got his shirt unbuttoned but he helps Lex get it off, arching up off the couch and into Lex’s hands.
“How far do you want this to go, Clark?” Lex breathes, mouth hot and wet at Clark’s jawline.
If Lex would just shift his thigh to the right a little, Clark could probably come right now. He’s never been this hard before. “Never want it to stop. God, Lex, please touch me.”
The laugh is hoarse, disbelieving. “Keep saying things like that and this won’t take long. Do you have any idea…?” Lex’s mind goes elsewhere, though, as he returns to lashing his tongue at the hollow of Clark’s throat and there’s a very good chance that Clark’s writhing beneath him but hell if he can hold himself back now. If he would even want to.
Lex’s hand slides between them to start unbuckling Clark’s belt and Clark’s reasonably certain that he whimpers, hips snapping up to meet Lex’s hand. “Shit, Lex.”
“Mmm,” Lex hums in his ear. “Bad language. Wonder what other words I can make you say?”
He bucks up when Lex strokes him through his jeans, slow and purposeful, and it’s anyone’s guess as to what comes out of his mouth when Lex slides his zipper down and wraps a hand around him. “Lex, god—Lex, I.” He might have cursed; he’s not sure. It’s not going to take much—he’s so close and Lex is right there, on him and around him and kissing him and “god, Lex, want you.”
And Lex growls a bit at that, actually growls, and the kiss he grants is rough and messy and hot. “I like it when you say my name,” he whispers, words catching, and knowing that this is seriously turning Lex on is almost enough to send Clark over the edge. He rocks up into Lex’s warm, sure hand, following the rhythm Lex sets, and Lex keeps doing this thing with his thumb and Clark’s not quite sure what he’s hitting but it’s new and amazing each time. And Lex goes back to talking, and even though Clark wouldn’t object to more of the kissing, Lex’s voice is undoing him in whole new ways. “God you’re beautiful, so beautiful, Clark. Come on, come for me. You’re so fucking hot like this—want to see you come. Want to see you come with my hand on you and my name on your lips.”
The burn is unbearable, wonderful—heat in his cock and his brain and his skin and Clark can’t take it anymore. He comes hard, shuddering into Lex’s hold with his face tucked against Lex’s strong shoulder. He knows he shouts, doesn’t have a clue what, but Lex eases him through it, soft kisses on his mouth, his jaw, his neck, fingers stroking his skin soothingly and Clark doesn’t think he can feel his toes anymore but that’s okay. He winds down from the orgasm, still a little shaky but together enough to meet Lex’s mouth. Lex is there, tucking him in and zipping him up, kissing him, not leaving, not sliding away; he’s just there for Clark to touch and explore.
“Fuck, Lex,” he breathes finally. “That was… awesome.”
Lex’s chuckle sends a shiver down his spine. “It’s good to have feedback,” he murmurs into Clark’s skin and how on earth is Clark supposed to listen to Lex speak now without getting ridiculously turned on? But there’s still the insistent matter of Lex’s erection, which Clark can feel pressing into his hip, and Clark’s not sure exactly what he wants to do but he knows he wants to do something, make Lex feel the way Lex made him feel. Hear Lex say his name.
He brushes fingers lightly over Lex’s cock through his pants and gives himself an internal high five when Lex shudders and groans. “What can I do, you know, for you?” he asks, maybe a little nervously but not uncertainly.
“Oh, god, Clark.” Lex leans his forehead against Clark’s. “Keeping talking and I’ll come right now.”
Clark swallows and steels himself, pushing Lex until they’re sitting up. Lex’s eyes are questioning but he doesn’t say anything, so Clark nudges him back until Lex is sprawled against the opposite arm of the couch, just like earlier. Clark moves into the V of Lex’s legs, kissing him lightly, high on anticipation and energy and “Lex. Lex, I-I want to make you come.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, Clark.” Lex’s eyes are wide and too bright, watching Clark heatedly. They only get wider when Clark slips off the couch and goes to his knees. “Oh, goddammit.”
“This okay?” Clark asks, hands pausing at Lex’s belt, waiting.
“Yeah.” Lex sounds shaky, more unhinged than Clark’s ever heard him. It’s sexy as hell. “Yeah, it’s really okay. Fuck,” he hisses when Clark unbuckles his belt and pulls his shirt loose to get hands on Lex’s skin. Smooth, with coiled muscle beneath, tension thrumming and Clark’s struck with the urge to kiss it away, smooth over it with lips and tongue. Lex moans his name, turned on and—pleading? No way. But Clark plows ahead, pulling the zipper of Lex’s pants down. He takes a moment to stroke Lex’s cock through his boxers, just to ground himself; this is real, this is happening, because of him. And Lex doesn’t seem to mind, breath hitching at the contact, and he really doesn’t seem to mind when Clark pulls him free. Thick, warm, and curving into Clark’s palm—Clark’s in serious unknown territory here but his jaw ticks and he wants this. Doesn’t know why, doesn’t care.
Lex’s eyes stay half-open, watching Clark, and he’s panting, lips wet and parted and kiss-dark. Clark wraps his hand experimentally around the base of Lex’s cock and that must work for Lex, because he moans something that only vaguely resembles words. Hand to guide and he goes for it, takes Lex into his mouth.
Lex shouts something that Clark doesn’t catch, too absorbed in this—thick and heavy, clean sharp taste of salt and sweat, a little bitter, Lex’s taste. He takes him in farther, flat tongue along the underside, and Lex hasn’t stopped talking, words like good and fuck and Clark, so fucking good, god, don’t stop. All this time, all these near misses and brushing touches, and this is what he wants: to have Lex grounded with him, solid, his hands on Lex’s hip and his mouth on Lex, feeling him shake, tasting his sweat.
He’s messy and inelegant. He wraps his hand around what he can’t fit and moves a little faster, Lex’s encouraging noises keeping him going. Lex cards fingers through Clark’s hair and that—god, that feels good. He doesn’t pull at him or force him, obviously trying to be gentle, and it’s just such an absurdly Lex gesture that he almost wants to laugh but the thought of Lex being gentle for him is… God, he’s getting hard again and he wants Lex to come, needs him to come.
Faster is good, and he tries for deeper, grinning at the choked sound Lex makes. Clark starts pressing his tongue to this one spot under the head on the upstroke and Lex growls out his name before crooning endearments he’d never say if he weren’t coming apart in Clark’s mouth and Lex is close, so close. It starts as a trembling in Lex’s thighs, a tightening of his fingers in Clark’s hair before he warns, “Clark- Clark, I’m going to-” but Clark doesn’t move. He holds onto Lex harder, drags his tongue along his cock one more time and Lex is coming, hot and bitter and too much on his tongue. He has to pull back enough to swallow, stroking Lex’s thigh soothingly through his shudders.
Clark wipes his mouth with back of his hand and watches Lex recover from what he just did. But Lex’s eyes are only half-open, so Clark tucks him back in and fixes his pants, not sure how to deal with the proximity of Lex’s body without the immediacy from before. He brings his hand back to Lex’s thigh, more tentative this time, sliding fingers up his leg and kneading the muscles into relaxation. Lex moans, moving into the touch, and this is infinitely better than a brief fumble after a rescue. He glances up to see Lex watching him now, satisfied smirk in place. Lex laces fingers through his hair again and tugs him back onto the couch.
Clark’s careful as he settles above Lex but Lex takes a different tack, because the kiss he gives Clark is anything but careful. His tongue sweeps into Clark’s mouth, hands strong on Clark’s body. It’s confident and maybe a little possessive, but it’s definitely hot and Clark might never get off the couch. It’s a solid possibility.
Lex’s hand is at his waist and when Clark’s half-hard cock brushes against Lex’s hip, Lex starts and breaks the kiss. “Clark, did- did that make you hard?” he asks, fingers across Clark’s cheek forcing him look at Lex despite his growing blush. Lex groans and his grip on Clark’s hip tightens. “God, Clark. Sucking my cock turned you on?”
“Guess so,” he manages, because that shimmer’s back in Lex’s eyes, and now Clark knows what it promises. “What, uh. What happens now?”
Lex blinks, an entire thought process passing in the short movement. “Your parents are gone until tomorrow afternoon? No one’s expecting you at home?”
Clark shivers at the implications, thoughts of Lex’s home, Lex’s couch, Lex’s bed flitting through his mind. “Nope,” he breathes.
“We could hang out at the mansion, if you wanted.” Lex’s tone is light, offering movies and popcorn as much as anything else. But Clark’s not okay with fleeting touches anymore. If he’s doing this, he wants it all. Wants Lex, as much as possible.
“We could…” Make the words, Kent. Say it. “Your bed,” he manages, surprising Lex enough that he can hide his face in Lex’s neck and say the rest into his skin. “I want to be in your bed. If that’s…”
Lex lets out a puff of air. “Yeah, Clark. That’s not only okay, that’s…perfect.”
Later, while stumbling into Lex’s room, Clark will get tangled up in the jeans bunched around his ankles and come to a sudden halt. Lex, following closely because he will be trying to taste every inch of Clark’s mouth, will collide with him, slotting their hips together just right and making Clark break off and gasp at the friction on his cock.
Lex will grin and give him a little shove to send him sprawling across the bed before stripping off his jeans and straddling him, saying, “I’m going to do a hell of a lot more than a little touch.”