Word count: 13,220
Notes: Set in the near future. Clark and Lana have broken up. Thanks to radioreverie for the title. Beta’d by bop_radar, who is marvelous. ♥
Prompt: Snowbound With Mr. Right
Feedback: Heck yeah!
Let It Snow, by Kate
The crowd milling around outside the opera house is dwindling fast, everyone hopping into cabs or walking quickly away, heads ducked and scarves wrapped around their chins.
Chloe and Lois are hugging themselves and shivering. “I’d love to stay and chat, guys,” Lois says through chattering teeth, “but it is way too cold out here. Who wants to share a cab?”
“We live in opposite directions, Lois,” Chloe says. “You go, I’ll be okay.”
Clark tips his head towards Chloe. “I’m crashing at her place.”
“Great,” Lois says, hopping into one of the taxis and slamming the door. The car is screeching off down the street by the time Clark remembers to wave.
“Well that was fun!” Chloe exclaims, clapping her gloved hands together with satisfaction.
“Yeah.” Although the truth is, opera isn’t really Clark’s thing and this one went on for what seemed like hours. He looks at his watch. Oh right. The singing was pretty good, he supposes, although it might have been easier to stay focused on what was going on if he’d understood what they were saying.
Not that it wasn’t nice going out in Metropolis, and seeing as Lois had scored the tickets for free, and he’d been the first choice for the third ticket, it would have been rude to decline. He suspects that Chloe had insisted upon inviting Clark as well; she’s been trying to distract him from moping about Lana for weeks now.
“Are you really crashing at my place?” Chloe asks him with a frown.
He smiles and shakes his head. “No. I’m gonna head home, but I couldn’t exactly tell Lois that.” Not that she would have questioned him. Lois never even notices the weird stuff he does, which is both a relief and deeply annoying.
“Okay, well, I hate to love you and leave you, Clark, but not all of us are immune to the cold and I’m dying here.” She reaches up, wraps her arms around his neck and Clark pulls her into a hug.
A minute later her cab pulls away and Clark finds himself alone on the footpath, enjoying the chill and contemplating the run home.
He stands there, stationary, staring up at the sky, waiting for that first snow flake to fall which he’s certain is going to happen any second now.
“Clark,” a familiar voice calls from behind. He turns around and squints over at Lex, who is wandering towards him.
Shoot. He’d forgotten Lex had been at the opera too. Sitting up in one of the fancy boxes next to the circle, with a stunningly beautiful Asian woman on his left, wearing a black dress that was so tight it looked painted on, and a scowl to match. She’s not with Lex now, which is strange, because Clark hadn’t seen her leave.
Lex is smirking at Clark in an irritating manner. “What are you doing out here all alone?” he asks.
“I’m just about to head home,” Clark replies, then instantly regrets it.
“Aha,” Lex nods. “To Smallville?”
Dammit. “Yeah, I’m gonna…” What are you gonna do, Clark? “…take the bus.”
Lex looks at his watch and stares at the face of it pointedly. “It’s eleven thirty, Clark. I doubt there are any buses going to Smallville at this hour.”
“Oh really?” Clark says in surprise. “I didn’t realize it was so late.” He really needs to get rid of Lex somehow.
Lex tilts his head to the side and sighs sympathetically. “Yeah.”
“Well, I guess I’ll--”
“I could give you a lift if you like,” Lex interrupts. “I am going that way.”
Clark quickly shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I can just stay at Chloe’s.” Actually, you can leave me alone and I can run home, Clark thinks behind his pasted on smile.
“Really, it’s no trouble.” At that moment the valet slips the car keys into Lex’s hand and Lex strolls over to the car which Clark hadn’t even noticed pulling up. Lex opens the door on the passenger side—ooh, it’s the Ferrari—and nods his head towards the car with a smug smile. “And you don’t have to worry about being cold. This baby has excellent heating.”
Clark stares at the open door helplessly and wonders if there’s any way for him to get out of this without being horribly rude.
“Come on!” Lex shouts, leaving the door open and walking around the car to the driver’s side. “You must be freezing your ass off out here!” he finishes cheerfully. Possibly sarcastically.
If only Clark hadn’t dawdled he’d be home by now, dammit. Now he has to suffer a two hour car drive with Lex, who is acting like an ass and who he has absolutely nothing to say to.
He gets into the car, scowling.
“Oh cheer up,” Lex says. “I’m a fast driver. We’ll be home in no time.”
Once they’re on the road it starts to snow pretty heavily, which Clark takes as a bad sign. Awful weather conditions and a reckless driver is not a great combination, and although Clark knows he can save them both when Lex inevitably skids off the road and drives headlong into a tree, he doesn’t particularly want to have to come up with an excuse for yet another “miracle” tonight, let alone have to suffer Lex’s gloating about how he “always knew there was something different about him”.
To take his mind off things he decides to make conversation. “What happened to your date?”
“She was feeling unwell; left in the middle of the third act.”
They fall silent again, which Lex seems perfectly comfortable with, much to Clark’s irritation. He has absolutely no idea how Lex can see anything out there it’s snowing so hard.
“Can you even see?”
Lex doesn’t answer at first although he is slowing his driving speed down in subtle increments. “Not really,” he mutters.
Clark whips his head around and looks at Lex with his eyebrows raised as high as they’ll go.
“I’d hoped we’d miss the storm, but—”
“But what?” Clark squawks.
Lex clears his throat. “Nothing. I’m sure we’ll make it. Just might take a little longer than anticipated.”
What does he mean he’s sure they’ll make it? That implies there’s a possibility that they won’t.
The car swerves suddenly to the left and it makes Lex curse sharply under his breath. When he gets them back on track he smiles sheepishly at Clark. “Whoops,” he says.
“Did you do that on purpose?”
“Of course not. It was the wind.” And then, as if he’s trying to drown out Clark’s questions, he turns up the stereo and focuses his attention back on the road.
A few minutes later, Clark speaks again. “I know this song.”
“It’s an aria, not a song, and you should do. It’s ‘Addio del passato’.”
Clark frowns in confusion.
“From La Traviata,” Lex explains, as if Clark is completely stupid.
Oh. That was the opera they’d just been to. No wonder it sounds familiar.
“It sounds different,” he says anyway.
“That’s because this recording is of a different singer, Clark.”
Whatever, Clark thinks.
Lex is driving at about ten miles an hour now, and Clark is starting to think they’re never going to make it back to Smallville.
It’s possible that fate actually does have a sense of humor, because at that precise moment they pass a small hotel, its pink neon vacancy sign blinking at them enticingly from the side of the road. Both turn their heads and gaze at the hotel as the car crawls past. It’s an old, three storey house that looks like it’ll be lucky to survive the storm.
No way. There is no way they are staying at a creepy hotel in the middle of Kansas countryside, when Clark could be at home in seconds, sitting in front of a warm fire, reading his book and drinking hot cocoa. No. Way.
Lex steps on the brake, pulls the car to a stop, and turns to look at Clark.
“No way,” Clark tells him.
“We don’t have a choice. We’ll never make it back in this weather. Look!” He points outside with an upturned palm but keeps his unblinking eyes fixed on Clark’s face.
Clark kind of wants to accuse Lex of planning this, but instead he simply sighs in defeat. “Fine.” Lex lays his arm on the back of Clark’s seat, twists his body around and begins to reverse the car. “But you’re paying,” he mutters, not really meaning it.
Lex just rolls his eyes.
Outside the weather is dire, so they both jog through the wind and snow to get to the front door, and once they’re inside they slam the door behind them with some help from the wind.
It’s a small, warm, dimly lit foyer, with the strangest looking lady Clark has ever seen sitting behind the reception desk, beaming at them as they approach.
“Did you get caught in the snow, boys?” she hollers, and her voice is so high-pitched and piercing that Clark actually stops in his tracks and reels back slightly.
She has pink hair. Piled on top of her head in giant, shiny curls, not a strand out of place.
“Yes,” Lex says shortly. “We’d like two rooms please.”
That’s a lot of blue eye shadow for one person to be wearing, and those are unnaturally long eyelashes. Her enormous yellow teeth are protruding from her mouth in what Clark assumes is supposed to be a smile, and they’re smeared with hot pink lipstick.
“Oh my Lord,” she says, suddenly looking unsettled. She takes a quick, deep, probably comforting drag on her cigarette, then blows out three perfect smoke rings in a row before exhaling what’s left in her lungs into a huge cloud that settles in front of Lex’s face. “You know, dear, if you had arrived ten minutes earlier I would have been able to grant that particular request, but I’m afraid…” She stops and spins around in her chair, then rolls away from the desk towards the wall behind her.
“What are we supposed to do?” Lex demands angrily, waving his hand in front of himself frantically in an attempt to disperse the smoke cloud. “Sleep in the car? Why the hell is your vacancy sign still lit up if you’re out of rooms?”
She takes something off the wall then glides back to the desk, holding a giant wooden square with the number 301 on it, and a key attached to it.
“You’ll have to share a room,” she says merrily, dangling the key at Lex and looking pleased with herself. “Sorry.” She doesn’t sound or look sorry. “But don’t worry, it’s got a double bed in it!”
Hold on. What?
“The heating’s been on all day so it should be real cozy in there by now.”
“Fine.” Lex snatches the key out of her hand and turns on his heel, heading for the stairs.
“What?” Clark says to the pink desk lady, who can stop smiling at him like that any time she wants.
“You boys have fun,” she says, waving demurely.
She’s got to be at least a hundred years old.
Clark spins round and says “What?” to the back of Lex’s head, then he looks back at the woman, back at Lex—who is now clutching the bottom of the banister and frowning at him impatiently—then back at the woman again. “You don’t have another room? We have to share a room?”
“Hurry up,” Lex snaps. “Stop being such a baby.”
Clark turns back to him, gaping. “I can sleep in the car,” he offers, a little hysterically.
“Great. See you in the morning.” Lex smiles frostily, turns around and disappears up the stairs. Suddenly Clark is alone with the pink lady, and has nowhere to go but the car. Or Room #301.
There’s always home, he thinks wistfully.
“You can stay in my room if you want, sweetie,” he hears the woman purr behind him.
A second later he’s bounding up the stairs behind Lex, hating himself for not figuring out a good excuse to not be there in the morning.
He could be at home. Like, an hour ago.
Why the hell did he dawdle?
“I see you had second thoughts about your sleeping arrangements,” Lex quips over his shoulder without turning around.
“It would have been too cold to sleep in the car,” Clark lies, brilliantly. Except that Lex’s response is a jolly laugh, which makes Clark grit his teeth and wonder why the hell he even bothers with the pretense of being normal anymore, when some people can’t be bothered pretending they believe him.
The room is actually bigger than Clark was expecting, and oddly gaudy, with red and green wallpaper and a frayed red quilt with a gold leaf print lying on top of the lopsided bed. A rickety old wooden wardrobe sits in one corner and the desk sitting opposite the bed looks like it can barely take the weight of the television sitting on top of it. The carpet is thick and spongy and red, and the room is softly lit up by several lamps because apparently no one thought it necessary to install a light-bulb in the ceiling.
The red drapes are shut and the room is so wonderfully warm, and really rather charming, that Clark can’t help smiling.
He glances over at Lex, who is nodding with appreciation. “Nice,” Lex comments, sounding faintly surprised. He lays his briefcase on the desk next to the TV and opens it up, then removes what looks like a black leather purse from a compartment in the lid.
“I suppose you want the bed,” Clark says. As much as he’d love to make Lex sleep on the floor, the fact that he had insisted earlier that Lex pay for the room unfortunately precludes him from making such a demand.
“As long as you promise to keep your hands to yourself, Clark, you’re welcome to share the bed with me.”
Clark’s outraged scoff is answered by the sound of the bathroom door closing and being locked, so it turns into a sigh, as he sits down on the bed and bounces a little, before falling back onto the mattress with a soft thump. One night in a hotel room with Lex isn’t going to kill him. Tomorrow the storm will have passed and they’ll jump back in Lex’s awesome car and drive home, and Clark won’t have to see him again until the next time there’s a crisis. It won’t be so bad. He’s feeling pretty tired now anyway. He hears Lex brushing his teeth in the bathroom and figures the purse was actually a toiletry bag, which makes him wonder how often Lex doesn’t make it home after he goes to the opera. Maybe he’d been intending to stay the night with his date.
By the time Lex is done in the bathroom, Clark is stripped down to his boxers and tucked up in bed, eyes shut tight, pretending to be asleep. He hears Lex take off his tie then his shirt then his belt then his pants then his socks, then he hears him moving around the room, switching off all the lamps. But it’s not until Clark feels Lex climbing into bed next to him that he realizes quite how weird this really is.
Perhaps he should have slept in his clothes…
Clark wakes the next morning with his face pressed against Lex’s back. His eyes fly open and he jerks back in horror, quickly wipes the drool off Lex’s warm skin with the edge of the quilt, and jumps—or rather, falls, if anyone’s keeping score—out of bed. He stands next to the bed for a good minute and a half, stock still and traumatized, then he pulls himself together, turns around, walks over to the window and opens the drapes.
That’s not good.
Clark stares out into the gloomy void and tries to stay calm.
He can hear Lex stirring in the bed behind him, but Clark is too mesmerized to take a look. Where the hell has the ground gone?
“What’s going on?” Lex croaks, sleepy and confused.
Lex slips out of bed and plods over to the window, stands next to Clark, and joins him in staring at the disaster outside.
“Huh,” Lex says.
Clark turns to look at him. “‘Huh?’ That’s all you’ve got to say?”
“What?” he says defensively. “I’m a powerful man, Clark, but I still haven’t figured out how to control the weather.”
“I know that,” Clark replies.
“Then stop acting like this is all my fault.”
“I could have stayed at Chloe’s,” Clark mumbles sulkily. “But no. ‘Really, it’s no trouble. I’m going that way.’”
“Oh for— You know what? Why don’t you stop moaning and grow the hell up.” Lex walks away from the window and starts pulling on his clothes. “So we’re here for another few hours—”
“It’s still snowing! We could be here for—” Clark plucks the longest possible time he can think of out of his brain, “—ever!”
Lex stops putting his trousers on for a moment, one leg in, the other not, just to gape at Clark like he’s the most annoying brat on the face of the earth. “Please stop talking,” he says tiredly.
“Fine,” Clark replies, and goes back to staring out the window.
God he hates snow.
Twenty minutes later Clark decides to get dressed too, and then the two of them head downstairs for breakfast. They’re still not exactly speaking to each other, but Clark is no longer in a bad mood.
The dining room is half full, and smells like pastry and coffee, which improves Clark’s mood even further.
Lex reads yesterday’s paper over their bacon and eggs, and doesn’t complain when Clark steals his hash brown.
“It’s rude to read at the breakfast table,” Clark says with a mouth full of scrambled eggs and toast.
Lex looks up at him. “It’s also rude to speak with your mouth full, so I guess good manners aren’t a priority for either of us.”
Clark curls his lip at Lex, who doesn’t even see because he’s gone back to his paper, and shovels more food into his mouth.
After breakfast they go back to their room, but once they get there Clark realizes there is absolutely nothing to do. Lex sets himself up on the bed, with his laptop in his lap, and proceeds to completely ignore Clark, tapping away on the keyboard and staring unblinkingly at the screen. Clark paces for a while, mostly out of restlessness, although it soon turns into more of an attempt to get Lex’s attention than anything else. How can Clark’s pacing not be annoying him? Why is Lex acting like he’s not even noticing it?
Clark sighs loudly and stops in front of the door, then looks back at Lex. A few seconds later, Lex, who finally notices the sudden lack of noise in the room, looks up at Clark.
“Yes?” he asks crisply.
Clark glares at him. “I’m going downstairs. I’m gonna take a look around.”
Lex looks uninterested. “Good idea,” he says, looking back at the screen. “Have fun.”
For a moment, Clark considers frying Lex to a crisp with his heat vision, but he resists the urge and storms out instead. He knows Lex is deliberately winding him up. He knows it and knowing it doesn’t stop it from working.
Clark takes a seat downstairs in the games room and flicks through a magazine about cars and half watches two men playing pool, all the while wondering why he lets Lex get to him. He wishes he were better at deliberately messing with Lex’s head, but he’s comforted by the fact that he’s the master at doing it accidentally.
God, he’s bored.
The morning drags on and on and on. He reads for a bit, he plays pool with a few of the other hotel guests, he plays gin rummy with a nine year old girl, and he stares out the window of the reception longingly, even though there’s nothing to see but snow. Lex comes downstairs for lunch and they eat together, and while they don’t do a lot of talking, at least Lex isn’t reading this time.
“What did you get up to this morning?” Lex asks him.
Clark scratches his neck and thinks back. “Played some pool. Read a magazine about cars. Got my ass kicked at rummy by a small child.” He nods. “That’s pretty much it.”
Lex is nodding and looking interested.
“Don’t patronize me,” Clark says, which makes Lex duck his head in an attempt to hide his smile.
The afternoon moves at an even slower pace than the morning, so that at three o’clock, Clark decides the best way to kill time is to take a long nap. Lex is back upstairs, sitting up on the bed with his computer, the television blaring -- Lex has managed to find a channel devoted to people talking about the stock market as if it’s actually interesting -- and he doesn’t react at all when Clark climbs up next to him, lies down on his back, props his arms behind his head and shuts his eyes. The monotonous drone eventually sends him to sleep.
When Clark wakes up he’s not sure what the time is, but the television is still on, the bathroom door is shut and the shower is going.
That’s not a bad idea, actually. He’ll have a wash once Lex is done.
Ten minutes later Lex emerges from the bathroom wearing a white toweling robe and he’s carrying something black, damp and crumpled in his hand. He shakes it out and hangs it over the radiator.
“What are you doing?” Clark asks.
“I went downstairs while you were asleep and got some detergent from Miss Rose because I didn’t fancy having to wear dirty underwear for another day, and this hotel doesn’t provide a laundry service.”
“There’s plenty left if you want to do the same.”
Clark nods and hops off the bed. He takes off his shirt and pants and heads for the bathroom, hoping that Lex has left his purse in there because he wants to clean his teeth and the hotel doesn’t seem to provide toothbrushes either. Bingo!
He washes his boxer shorts first, then he cleans his teeth, then he has a long, relaxing, piping hot shower. Before exiting the bathroom he wraps a big white towel around his waist. Hopefully there’s another robe in the room for him to wear while he waits for his underwear to dry.
Apparently not. “There was only one robe,” Lex tells him. “Sorry.”
Clark glowers at him and adjusts his towel so that it stops slipping down. Lex is sitting back on the bed in his comfy looking robe, now watching some kind of boring political news program on television. The black TV remote sits in his lap, and Clark’s instant, irrational response to everything he’s seeing is: I don’t want to watch the news. I am going to steal that remote from Lex and we’re going to watch something of my choosing.
For the first time that day, the irritation at being in this situation when he doesn’t really need to be, and the boredom accompanying his feeling of uselessness, dissipates completely. Now he’s just pissed off. Lex has had everything his way so far, and he’s still getting his way, and Clark does not want to watch this stupid program.
He walks over to the bed in as blasé a manner as possible, walks around it to his side, and sits down next to Lex, mirroring his pose; his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle, his back against the pillows propped up on the headboard.
Quickly lifting the remote out of Lex’s lap and switching channel to—ha, this will annoy Lex—The Cartoon Network, without so much as looking over at him, makes Clark smile smugly.
“Hey!” Lex shouts. “Give that back.”
“Clark,” Lex says, more patiently this time. “I was watching that. Give. It back.”
Lex is moving, he’s trying to grab back the remote, but Clark holds it away from him, just out of reach, and watches Lex grasp at the air uselessly. “Clark,” Lex warns, his voice low and menacing. He sits back, breathing noisily.
“What?” Clark says innocently, smiling.
“Give me back the fucking remote.”
“Why should I? I want to watch this.” He squints at the television and tries to work out what the show is. It doesn’t look familiar.
When Lex attacks again, Clark starts to laugh. Lex is practically growling, and is climbing onto Clark, grabbing his outstretched arm, attempting to pull it back towards himself. But Clark doesn’t move his arm an inch and he responds to Lex’s futile attempts at beating him with a mocking smile. Lex can’t beat him.
Clark snickers when Lex gives up again, which seems to incense him more; his breathing is louder, angrier, his mouth set in a thin, hard line.
“Wow, you really hate not getting your way,” Clark observes with satisfaction.
Lex turns his head towards Clark sharply and sneers at him in a manner that probably scares the living daylights out of most other people. “And you’ve just learned this about me now?”
He’s off the bed, stalking towards the TV, manually changing the channel back. He turns and glares at Clark, and Clark knows what the look means. Lex is daring him to keep this up. Daring him. Clark might have the strength, but does he have the willpower?
He switches the channel back with a smile.
Lex snarls and pounces onto the bed, then onto Clark, far more forcefully than before. He’s scrambling up Clark’s body, clawing his way up Clark’s arm, grunting with the effort, and he’s relentless. Clark knows he should at least pretend that Lex’s attack is painful or difficult for him or something, but he’s enjoying it too much. Lex looks so wild and out of control, and it’s funny because it’s just a TV remote and Clark knows that Lex doesn’t care that much about the program he was watching, only about losing to Clark.
It is a small concern that Lex might actually hurt himself on Clark’s body. If he decides to get violent and hit him or bite him, then that will do far more damage to Lex than to Clark. Plus, the way Lex is writhing around on him is starting to loosen Clark’s towel, and the frenzied nature of his ineffectual flailing is having the effect of making Clark’s heart beat faster and body temperature heat up.
He flips Lex over onto his back and pins him to the bed, arm across his chest holding Lex’s arms in place at his sides, thigh across Lex’s thighs, elbow on the bed on the other side of Lex, remote in his hand, mere inches away from Lex’s face.
Clark’s towel has loosened a lot but it’s still in place, and Lex’s robe is twisted around in an almost comical fashion.
“Do you concede?” Clark asks him, glancing pointedly at the remote in his hand.
Lex breathes heavily. “Never.”
Clark removes his arm from Lex’s chest and places his hand next to Lex’s head, then he takes his elbow off the bed. Lex can now move his arms freely. “Okay,” he says with a nod. “Try and take it off me.” He points the remote towards Lex, offering it to him.
Lex doesn’t move at first, except for his heaving chest, he just stares up at Clark. Then he slowly lifts his left arm off the bed and grabs the part of the remote that’s sticking out of Clark’s fist. It makes Clark smile to feel Lex pulling at it, trying to extract it. It makes his whole body tingle when Lex reaches over and starts pulling with both hands.
He’s not sure what he’s feeling when Lex starts pushing at Clark’s fingers, because he knows that it’s supposed to be an attempt to get Clark to unfurl them; it’s supposed to be an attempt to get Clark to lose his grip on the remote and drop it. But the way Lex is rubbing his thumbs over Clark’s fingers and knuckles just feels kind of…nice.
It takes another two or so minutes before Lex gives up again. He lifts his hips off the bed and straightens his robe, then settles back down. Placing his arms back against his sides, he looks up at Clark, face not giving anything away. He could still be angry, or he could be planning another attack, or he could be waiting patiently for Clark to get tired of the game and give up.
Clark isn’t remotely tired, however, so if that’s what Lex is hoping will happen he’s got another thing coming.
“I’ll make it easier for you,” Clark says. He puts the remote down onto the bed, a few inches away from Lex shoulder. “There.” He says nodding towards it. “Just grab it. If I can’t get to it before you do, you can keep it. And you can watch whatever you want.”
Lex’s eyes flash. He’s always loved a challenge.
To make it a little easier on him and a little more comfortable, Clark lets his thigh slide the rest of the way across Lex’s, until he’s kneeling on the bed over Lex. Straddling him, to be precise. And he should probably re-fasten his towel, because it’s coming dangerously close to falling off completely, and he knows he’s showing a lot more thigh than he should be, but he just takes his hand off the bed, puts both hands behind his back and grins at Lex instead.
Lex is very still. Watching Clark. Waiting for the right moment to make his move.
But there’s no such thing as the right moment, not in this game. No matter what Lex does, Clark will be too fast for him.
Lex pushes himself up on his elbows, staring into Clark’s eyes, pupils huge and there’s a smile in those eyes, somewhere, even if his mouth is set in a straight, unreadable line.
His mode of attack this time is ingenious, if not successful. He whips off Clark’s towel with one hand, and goes for the remote at the same time with the other. If time didn’t move at a different speed for Clark than for everyone else, the removal of his towel would have sufficiently distracted him from the game they’re playing, and Lex would have won. Luckily he can move faster than Lex can do anything, so when Lex’s hand hurtles towards the remote in slow motion, and he probably thinks he’s got it, he probably thinks he’ll have the remote in his hand in the next second, Clark makes sure that the only thing Lex’s hand comes into contact with is Clark’s.
Lex growls in frustration, scrabbling again at Clark’s fist with both hands, writhing beneath Clark in a way that feels really good. Bucking up under him and grunting. Beads of sweat shining on his forehead and cheeks. Face pink and teeth gritted.
And Clark is aroused. He daren’t look down at his penis, which is no longer covered up—God, he’s naked now, and apparently more interested in letting Lex wrestle with him than putting his towel back on—because if he sees that he has an erection he can no longer deny it to himself.
“Calm down,” he murmurs, wiping the sweat from above Lex’s upper lip with his thumb. “You can’t beat me.” Lex stops moving.
He sees Lex looking down between their bodies, then up again, into Clark’s eyes, which means he’s seen Clark’s arousal. He doesn’t look disgusted or afraid though, so maybe it isn’t as bad as Clark thinks it is. Clark glances down at himself and gulps. His cock is so engorged it looks huge, even to Clark.
He needs to distract Lex, make him forget what he saw. “I’ll –- give you another chance,” he says, and he sounds a bit breathless which was not his intention. “I’ll – ” He puts the remote on Lex’s chest, but the robe is in the way and it doesn’t sit right, so he opens it up a little and slips the remote between the material, onto Lex’s skin.
He’s not satisfied with that either though, because the remote would look better if it were sitting on Lex’s belly, not his chest, so he tugs the robe open some more, the band around the waist tied tightly enough to protect Lex’s modesty—although at this point Clark doesn’t see why Lex should get to be dressed when Clark isn’t—and slides the remote down his chest until the waist band stops it from sliding down further.
Lex squirms beneath him but he keeps his arms at his sides, and he doesn’t look especially uncomfortable. His hands are resting very lightly on the sides of Clark’s thighs, just above his knees.
“I’ll just put it here,” Clark says, although he’s still not entirely happy with where it is. He reaches down again and loosens the tie, pushing it down further so it’s loosely wrapped around Lex’s lower belly, just above his groin, then he opens the robe up even further. Clark likes the way the long, black remote looks against the smooth, pale skin of Lex’s belly. “Try and take it,” he whispers.
Lex shifts under him, hips rotating in one slow, decidedly provocative move, and Clark hears himself suck in a breath. He won’t let Lex distract him.
“Put your hands behind your head,” Lex says, his voice kind of hoarse.
That seems a fair request. It won’t help Lex at all but at least it will make Clark look like he’s a reasonable man. He puts his hands on the back of his neck and holds them there.
The reaction he gets is not quite what he had expected. Lex’s hands don’t move towards the remote at all. They slide a few inches up Clark’s thighs and his fingertips press into Clark’s skin. Lex stares up at him, his breathing quick and shaky, and then his eyes start moving. From Clark’s face to his arms to his chest to his stomach. Clark looks down at himself with a frown and suddenly realizes what he must look like.
Straddling Lex, completely naked, massive erection, arms behind his head and body stretched out, as if he’s on display. He’d feel foolish, only Lex seems to…like what he sees.
He’s now staring at Clark’s cock and absently massaging Clark’s thighs.
The longer Lex stares at Clark there and the more his hands move, the more turned on Clark feels. He has a strong urge to touch himself, and relieve some of the pressure, but he keeps his hands where they are.
Lex’s hands are inching slowly up Clark’s thighs, pressing fingers and thumbs into Clark’s flesh as he goes. When his index fingers meet the underside of Clark’s ass, Clark exhales sharply and shudders, but otherwise he stays as still as he can. Lex grips the top of Clark’s right thigh with his left hand and he slides his right hand around to the front of Clark’s left thigh, then trails his fingers slowly, so slowly, down towards his knee.
When he reaches the top of Clark’s knee, he stops. And lingers. He looks up at Clark, who is staring at him with his mouth open, and sweeps his tongue over his bottom lip. Clark finds himself swaying forward slightly, suddenly lightheaded.
Now Lex is trailing his fingers over his own white cotton-covered thigh, painstakingly slowly, slowly, trailing towards his groin, then up towards the waist band of his robe.
Oh God, what is Lex doing? Is he going to open his robe?
Clark pushes his hips forward reflexively, and loses his breath a little.
But Lex doesn’t do anything. He just stops, his hand stops moving and it rests on the band and he’s not untying it and not opening it. Lex stares up at him until Clark feels like he’s being hypnotized.
Then Lex does something, and it happens so fast that when it’s over, Clark isn’t sure it really happened. Except it must have because he heard himself moan. Loudly.
Did Lex just brush his fingers down the length of Clark’s cock, then put his hand back exactly where it had been?
Clark thinks he did. His cock certainly thinks it happened because it’s started to leak fluid from the tip, and it’s tingling intensely. It makes Clark reach down, untie the waist band of Lex’s robe himself and push it open. It’s only fair he gets to see Lex naked after all.
The sight he sees is almost enough to make Clark lose his balance. Lex has no pubic hair and his penis is long, thick and circumcised. And extremely hard. Hard, and dark with blood, the cockhead slick and swollen.
Lex’s erection rests on his belly, which is glistening with sweat. The remote lies just above his navel and they form a straight line, pointing up Lex’s body towards his chin. The remote is rectangular but it’s otherwise a very similar size and shape to Lex’s penis.
“Mm,” is all Clark can say.
They’re still playing the game though, of that Clark is certain. Lex hasn’t given up on getting the remote and Clark has definitely not given up on keeping it.
A way to win the game flashes into Clark’s head, and it’s such a dirty idea he has to shut his eyes for a second and attempt to regain some control. When he opens them again, he realizes that he’s rotating his hips around in small circles; he’s not really meaning to do it but he can’t seem to keep still anymore.
Lex is sliding his index finger up and down his own erection and watching Clark’s face avidly.
There’s no way Clark can leave his hands where they are any longer. It’s time to end this game, it’s time for Clark to win. He takes his hands off his neck, places his palms on his thighs, and waits for Lex to do something.
“You’re cheating,” Lex says.
“You can still win, Lex,” he replies. He lies. He takes himself in hand and starts stroking. He’s already so close to orgasm he knows it could be over in a matter of seconds, but that wouldn’t be fair to Lex. Clark needs to show Lex how he’s going to win and end the game, so that Lex can play too, so he falls forward, catches himself on his left hand, and starts jacking himself with fervor. He points his dick at the remote and looks from Lex’s face to Lex’s cock then back again, encouraging him to participate.
Lex gets it, and he starts to masturbate too, getting into it quickly and confidently. His eyes start to cross and his breathing comes in shuddering waves and he looks so turned on, and so close to the edge, that maybe he’s actually in with a chance here.
They’re both so loud. The slap of skin on skin, the harsh breathing, the grunts and groans, and Clark thinks then that jerking off has never felt this good before. Of course, he’s never jerked off in front of someone else before, and he’s never watched another person jerk off, so that might have something to do with why it’s better than usual.
Lex is slowing down his fist, but thrusting his hips harder and longer, squeezing his eyes shut and no longer breathing. Clark knows what that means because he’s doing the same thing. It means Lex is just about to come. They’re both about to come.
The remote slides up and down on slippery skin, the room feels hot like a sauna, and the urge to touch Lex is too powerful to resist; Clark lifts his hand off the bed and plants it on Lex’s chest, slides it up and grips his shoulder as his orgasm hits.
Lex moans at the touch and Clark moans at the rush, watching a stream of white fluid shoot out of his dick and land on the black remote, and on Lex’s belly, and on his robe and a little bit on his chin and then Lex is coming too, only a few seconds behind Clark.
Clark smears their collective come all over the remote, then he pushes it aside and rubs it into Lex’s torso, shuddering and gasping.
They stare at each other as they try to catch their breath. Once down, Clark feels somewhat shocked at what just took place, rocks back on his heels and collapses onto his ass at the foot of the bed. Staring into space is all he’s capable of right now.
A glance over at Lex confirms that Lex is similarly bewildered, but then Lex makes eye contact with Clark and raises his eyebrows at him. He peels the remote off his chest gingerly and dangles it at Clark. It’s so disgusting, Clark winces.
“I concede,” Lex says with a small smile. “I think you won this fair and square.” He tosses it at Clark who has no choice but to catch it.
“Oh God,” Clark groans. “It’s slimy.” He can see Lex smiling wider out of the corner of his eye as Clark throws the remote across the room and into the bin.
Lex slides off the bed and shrugs off his robe, then heads towards the bathroom.
“I need another shower.” He turns at the door and addresses Clark as if everything was still completely normal between them. “Then we can go downstairs and have some dinner. Okay?”
Clark nods dumbly and doesn’t move from his spot on the bed for the next five minutes. When he hears the shower stop he gives himself a good, hard slap across the face, then dresses in super time. He doesn’t put on his underwear, because they’re still wet—he tests Lex’s and finds that his are as well—and then he’s back in his stupid dress pants and wrinkled white shirt, day-old socks and shiny black shoes.
He sits back down on the bed and keeps his eyes averted when Lex emerges from the bathroom. What the hell are they going to talk about over dinner? They just—Clark has no idea what they just did, but he knows it wasn’t normal. He sneaks a peek at Lex getting dressed, and sees him doing up his fly. And looking at Clark.
“Sorry,” Clark says quickly, dropping his chin and staring at the floor. He doesn’t look up again until he’s pretty sure Lex is done.
“Ready to go?” Lex asks him coolly, walking past him towards the door.
Clark blinks at him a few times, takes a deep breath and stands up. “Let’s go,” he says as brightly as possible, grabbing the room key off the desk and following Lex out of the room.
to be continued...
Let It Snow, Part Two