Word count: 3,478
Notes: Thanks so very very much to toadstoolsmiles for the wonderful beta. I love you loads, babe.
Summary: Set after Lockdown. Lex visits Clark at the barn to thank him for saving his life (again). Things get smutty (natch).
Feedback: makes everything right with the world.
Always, by Kate
Lex stops at the bottom of the stairwell in the Kent barn and holds his breath.
“I can’t take this anymore, Clark.” Lana’s voice is clear and emotional. “You won’t touch me, you won’t tell me why. This isn’t a *relationship*.”
“Lana-“ Clark sounds desperate, but only because she’s absolutely right and he knows it and yet he *still* won’t give her what she wants. Which is sex, apparently.
“I need to get away from you,” she says huffily. “Call me when you’re willing to do one or the other.” And that’s Lex’s cue to duck behind some tractor parts and watch with interest as Lana storms out, hair flicking angrily from side to side, shoulders hunched and Lex might be imagining the huffing and puffing but possibly not.
So Clark isn’t fucking her anymore. That’s… very interesting. Lex quickly processes the information he has and decides that Clark probably hasn’t touched her since he rose from the dead because not long after that Lana stopped defending Clark, stopped insisting he was normal, started obsessing over the spaceship and spending a lot more time with Lex. After that, Clark and Lana didn’t seem quite so much like a couple of young lovebirds.
Lex can’t say he’s upset about this news. Other people’s happiness has never done much for him other than remind him that he’s bitterer than he’d like to be.
He waits a few seconds more before ascending the staircase, Clark watching him approach with a moody frown.
“Hey Clark,” Lex greets him, attempting normal.
“What are you doing here, Lex?”
Lex isn’t surprised that Clark is being so pissy. And weirdly, that just makes this easier. He swallows and looks down. “I wanted to thank you.” A glance back up and Clark actually looks surprised for a second, before his face clouds over again with hostility.
Lex would laugh if it were at all funny that Clark seems to have no clue why Lex might want to thank him. It would be funny too, if it weren’t so typically strange. He walks up and deliberately stands in Clark’s personal space. Looks him in the eye.
“You saved my life.” Lex looks away and chuckles. “I guess you’ve done that so many times now it has no meaning anymore.”
It takes about five seconds until Clark seems to actually understand what Lex is referring to and Lex knows that’s because his mind is on other things. Two other things, to be precise. His failure to make a relationship with Lana work and his distaste at having to be in the same room as Lex. The latter still itches a little but Lex is used to grinning and bearing it. Or maybe just bearing it.
Clark dimisses Lex’s words with an irritable wave of his hand. They both know Lex’s gratitude is disingenuous, even if Lex still feels it necessary to show it anyway.
“Clark, I’m serious.” He certainly *sounds* serious. “I would have died if you hadn’t shown up. And I have a funny feeling Lana would have died too.”
That’s not what Clark wanted to hear. He glares at Lex disdainfully. “You’re welcome, Lex. Although, you know, you really don’t have to *thank me* for helping Lana. She’s my *girlfriend*.”
Lex smiles into angry green eyes. “You’re a lucky man,” he says, with just enough menace in his pleasant tone to provoke a reaction. Lex has always been fascinated by Clark’s jealous side.
Clark’s eyes narrow and his jaw is working overtime. He looms over Lex a little, but Lex doesn’t want to fight. Not much. Not tonight.
“She’s a lucky girl,” he says softly and it makes Clark blink and retreat. And shake his head.
“Can you just leave me alone please, Lex,” Clark says wearily, flopping down onto the couch, misery radiating off him, the muscles in his face tense with failure.
It hurts Lex’s heart and amuses him in equal measure. Why Clark hates himself so much is beyond Lex. An old familiar feeling washes over him like light drizzle on a warm day. The need to *help* Clark.
“What’s wrong, Clark?” he asks, surprised at the gentleness in his own voice. It’s almost as if he still cares about this petulant liar. He sits down on the couch next to Clark and puts a hand on Clark’s thigh. It occurs to him only after he’s done it that it might be just a tad inappropriate, but snatching it away now would be too obvious so he just leaves it there and wonders whether Clark is going to give him a funny look.
But Clark just stares at Lex’s hand glumly.
“Nothing,” he says and Lex actually does laugh this time, which earns him another angry frown.
“What?” Clark barks.
“I’m sorry, Clark,” Lex says, not bothering to disguise his amusement. “I’m only laughing because you’re obviously upset about something.” He pauses and lets the silence stretch. “Look. I know we’re not close anymore but if you need somebody to talk to...”
It’s so cheesy Lex finds it harder still to keep a straight face. And yet… he can almost *taste* the desire to hear what’s on Clark’s mind. It’s not a new feeling.
Clark’s complete lack of trust in him isn’t new either, and his anger is palpable.
“Why would I tell *you*,” Clark says bitterly and it's not a question.
It’s a valid point. Lex is fully aware that Clark hates the time Lex spends with Lana. Lex is fully aware that the time he spends with Lana is partly to do with Clark hating it.
Lex takes his hand off Clark’s thigh and runs it over his head. Bites his lip. Gestures all for Clark’s benefit. So Clark knows he’s *sad* about… all of this.
It thrills Lex to ask his next question, although that probably says more about him than he cares to know.
“Why aren’t you sleeping with Lana anymore?” A pause, for effect. “I overheard.”
Clark flinches. “That’s none of your business.”
Lex half expects Clark to flip out and kick him out of the barn but it doesn’t stop him from touching Clark again. Hand on his thigh. Again.
“Clark,” he says, solemnly. “I’m here for you.” It sounds ridiculous, even to Lex. But it’s the kind of talk that works on Clark.
Clark’s face crumples; he’s so naturally trusting that even this - *this* - total bullshit – can get inside. Can win him over, albeit temporarily.
A sudden neediness infects Clark’s every move and word. “Why are you and Lana spending so much time together?”
And damn if Clark doesn’t already know this but still wants a different answer from Lex. A lie. He wants Lex to tell him it’s not about the meteor shower, not about the spaceship. Not about getting into Lana’s pants…
“She told you why, Clark,” he says, not patronizing, just blunt.
Clark looks up at him, eyes clear and anxious. “You don’t want her?”
Okay then. Clark cuts straight to the chase, although Lex didn't expect Clark to want to talk about the meteor shower or the spaceship, so he can't say he's *too* surprised. “Of course not,” Lex says sincerely. Clark stares at him as if he’s trying to find the truth in the expression on Lex’s face, which is… Well. Lex has no idea what he looks like right now. Clark’s mouth is really incredibly distracting. “What on earth gave you that impression?”
Clark looks down at his lap.
“Clark?” In a way, Lex wants to make Clark feel bad about his jealousy even if it isn’t entirely unfounded. “I wouldn’t…” He puts a hand on Clark’s cheek and Clark looks back up at him, so distressed. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” he finishes; a reluctant, necessary lie.
Fresh thoughts, re-evaluation, and the wary look is back, although Clark still seems oblivious about that hand on his face. “I don’t trust you,” Clark says, and the words fill Lex with a near blood-boiling rage. Just for a second. He grits his teeth so hard his jaw aches and forces himself to calm down. Clark doesn’t *trust him*. The richness of that might be hilarious if Lex had more of a sense of humor.
“I know,” he replies, voice even, not giving away anything, tips of his fingers digging into the skin on Clark’s face. There’s not much else to say to that, but at least the hypnotic quality of Clark's pretty pout is distracting Lex from his anger.
It comes out of nowhere. Or out of years of pretending it’s not there. Pretending it doesn’t keep him awake at night, doesn’t drive him, doesn’t infuriate him, upset him, arouse him, doesn’t make him *insane*.
Lex leans in and kisses Clark on the lips.
Gentle and chaste, dry and sweet. A touch, so light, so seemingly inconsequential that it might even be platonic. It might even be comforting. And Clark doesn’t move a muscle. He lets Lex kiss him and he lets Lex pull away afterwards and he lets Lex feel like he might have just gone mad.
“What are you-“ Clark starts, then stops, and Lex takes that as permission.
He wraps his hand around the back of Clark’s neck and stares into Clark’s eyes for a couple of endless seconds, then kisses him again. Not hard. Not soft. Just open mouthed and non-platonic.
Clark responds, opening his mouth up, letting his tongue slip out to slide against Lex’s tongue, and they’re actually doing this. They’re making out in the barn.
Lex still has his driving gloves on and he’s got both hands either side of Clark’s neck, holding him there, kissing him with a lot more hunger than he would have liked. But he can’t help it, and Clark is kissing back with as much abandon and there are strong hands gripping Lex’s waist, squeezing him tightly, to the point where it’s painful, beautifully painful.
When Lex pulls back his breath catches at the sight of Clark: eyes closed, lips swollen and red, head tilted forward expectantly, but then Clark opens his eyes and evidently remembers who he’s just been kissing because he leaps up off the couch, and stares at Lex with horrified eyes.
“What are you doing?!” he asks, scandalized, as if he hadn’t just kissed Lex back, as if he wasn’t conspicuously hard beneath all that denim. Lex hasn’t got time for this. He stands up and puts a hand in the middle of Clark’s chest, then pushes him back against the wall, enjoying the way Clark stumbles but doesn’t fight it.
A gloved hand pressed between Clark’s legs should be answer enough and if Clark *still* doesn’t get it, Lex has a few more tricks up his sleeve. The moan he gets for his trouble is like music to his ears.
“Lex,” Clark gasps, as Lex roughly rubs the heel of his palm up and down the length of Clark’s erection, before kissing him – hard this time – and grabbing a fistful of Clark’s tee shirt.
“Yeah?” he murmurs when he breaks the kiss, but he increases the pressure on Clark’s cock.
“We can’t do this,” Clark says, sounding entirely unconvinced of that.
“Shhh,” Lex says, letting go of the tee shirt and resting his hand on Clark's cheek before sliding his thumb down over Clark’s bottom lip. Clark’s eyelids droop.
Then he pops the top button on Clark’s jeans and yanks the zipper down quickly, before Clark has a chance to protest again.
“I want to make you feel good, Clark.” He distracts Clark with another kiss as he pushes Clark’s jeans and boxers down over his ass and cock and then he takes Clark’s cock in his leather-clad hand, squeezing him hard before starting to stroke.
Clark starts to sway a little until he leans against the wall and his head falls back, his eyes shut, his hips begin to move; gentle thrusts of his hard cock into Lex’s tight fist.
“Look at me,” Lex orders softly and Clark’s eyes fly open obediently and he looks straight at Lex. “I’m going to suck your cock,” Lex says. “Okay?”
No response other than an increase in the force of Clark’s thrusts, but then a wobbly nod, and Lex sinks down to his knees, never removing his hand from around the root of Clark’s cock.
Big. Really, really big. Lex licks his lips and breathes out through his nose, suddenly aware of his own erection straining against his slacks. He hasn’t felt this sexually excited in a long, long time.
Sucking the head of Clark’s cock into his mouth, flicking his tongue into the slit before swirling it around and around, strange flavor, he likes it, and then more, more. Clark jerks his hips forward, trying to push his cock further into Lex’s mouth, and he succeeds. Lex gags as Clark’s cock slides into his throat and he grabs Clark by the hip to hold him in place and pulls off. He looks up because he just *has* to see what Clark looks like at the moment, and *God*, he looks *so* beautiful.
So very horny, so totally turned on, so desperate for Lex’s mouth on him again. Clark’s eyes are *huge*. Focused and intense, staring down at Lex like he’s the sexiest thing Clark’s ever seen. His mouth is hanging open, red red lips, thick dark hair, curling over those incredible cheek bones, and his breath is coming in short shallow bursts. Lex stares back up at him, mesmerized. Clark pushes his hips forward again, a silent plea and Lex has to violently squeeze his own cock to relieve some of the pressure. No one on the planet is as desirable as Clark is and Lex has him. He finally has him.
He looks back at Clark’s cock, so hard, shiny with Lex’s saliva, and he takes it into his mouth again. He jerks Clark off as he sucks him and Clark doesn’t make a lot of noise, but the quiet throaty pants above him are unreasonably sexy.
It takes about twenty seconds for Clark to come, and although Lex could have kept going for much, much longer, when the first spurt fills his mouth, he couldn’t feel more pleased with himself. With Clark stuttering out words Lex has never heard Clark say before; “fuuuuck,” followed by a lengthy groan followed by, “oh Jesus, oh God,” and Lex swallows down everything Clark has to offer. Which is a *lot*.
He keeps sucking until well after Clark has finished coming and only pulls off when Clark whimpers. It might be worrying seeing Clark slump a little, before sliding down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor, his head hanging and his eyes closed. It might be worrying but Lex couldn’t really care less about how Clark feels right now. His dick is painfully hard and all he wants is to come, which won’t take long at all, so Clark better cheer the fuck up and sort him out. Lex hasn’t been a reasonable man for some time now.
“Clark.” He cups Clark’s chin in his hand and forces him to look up, suddenly feeling insecure about everything that’s just happened, but he’s not going to ask Clark if “it was okay”. There’s no way he’s asking him that. Maybe he can find out without having to ask.
He leans in and kisses Clark, just lips at first, no tongue. But then he opens Clark’s mouth with his tongue and probes a little deeper. It’s a question without words. *Do you want me?*
The answer, it seems, is yes. Clark pulls Lex into his arms and Lex is forced to straddle him. And pushing his cock into Clark’s stomach, a few urgent thrusts, feels amazingly good, stupidly necessary. A kiss so deep and prolonged, so passionate and needy, Clark’s hands cupping Lex’s ass and it might be enough to make Lex come in his pants, but he wants Clark’s mouth.
He leans back in Clark’s lap and Clark slides his hands up Lex’s back so Lex can lean back even further. Clark silently watches as Lex undoes his fly and pulls out his cock. As Lex starts jerking himself off. Eyes flicking from Lex’s face down to Lex’s cock and then back up to Lex’s face again. Like he doesn’t know what he wants to watch. Like he wants to watch both and is frustrated that he can’t.
Lex curls his free hand around the back of Clark’s neck and looks at Clark’s face with increasing awe, as lust and pleasure and possibly more overtake everything else, every other thought and fear and feeling.
“Will you suck me, Clark?” he asks, his voice sleepy and full of need.
Clark *still* doesn’t say anything, but he nods, so Lex stands up, pulls Clark up with him, then takes a few steps back and sits down on the couch, noting with interest that Clark’s cock – which is still on display - is nearly fully erect again. *God*.
Clark kneels in front of him and pushes Lex’s thighs apart, then grabs Lex and jerks him forward until he’s slouching low on the couch with Clark between his legs. He looks up at Lex, eyes full of desire and anxiety, and then he goes down.
“God, *Clark*,” Lex cries out, surprised by the feeling. Not because he’s never had his dick sucked before, but because after four and a half years of knowing Clark, of wanting this, of fantasizing about it, of *never getting it*, to be inside Clark *finally* is a shock to the system. A shock of the best possible kind.
And Clark is *good*. He not only *looks* incredible, he sucks cock like he was trained to do it, like he was *born* to do it. An outstretched arm, fingers splayed and hand flat on Lex’s chest, holding him down, as if Lex might try to get up, the other hand stroking Lex’s cock just like Lex had done for Clark, and the sweetly repetitive movement of Clark’s head - up and down, up and down; the soft wet heat enveloping Lex, the occasional scrape of teeth, the fierce suction…
It’s too much, too much. Lex bucks up into Clark’s mouth two, three more times before grabbing Clark’s head, soft thick hair through black leather, and holds him still while he gasps once, stops breathing, then comes. Knowing he’s coming in Clark’s mouth seems to intensify his orgasm tenfold and he can’t stop it, can’t stop shuddering and gasping, can’t stop coming.
When he’s finished his body just *sags* and he’s grateful that the back of the couch is there to stop him from falling. He opens his eyes and sees Clark staring at him, a weirdly unreadable expression on his face.
“You should go,” Clark says quietly.
Lex narrows his eyes and feels torn. A part of him knows that Clark is right. He *should* go. A part of him feels belligerent and unwilling to do *anything* that Clark tells him to do, especially if Clark wants to kick him out after *that*.
“Clark,” he starts, but what does he say?
“This was a mistake, Lex. And we both know it.”
Lex feels a surge of anger. “Fuck that. Why was it a mistake?”
Clark just looks at him like he’s crazy. “If I need to explain it to you then you’re more screwed up than I thought.”
That burns in places Lex didn’t even know were vulnerable. He zips up his pants and attempts to pull himself together. He needs to get out of here. This isn’t how it was meant to be.
“Lex…” Clark sounds apologetic but Lex won’t look him in the eye. He pushes Clark to the side and stands up.
“Lex?” Now Clark sounds concerned. “Lex?” He catches Lex’s arm before Lex can make his escape. “Are you *upset*?”
Lex wants to punch Clark. He wants to *kill* Clark. He wants –
He finds himself pulled around and under the spotlight of Clark’s gaze. Clark searching his face for clues. “Lex, I’m sorry. Are you-“
Lex can’t talk, can’t leave, can’t stop wanting Clark. Can’t stop being in love with him.
This time it’s Clark who kisses Lex and the kiss is infused with surprise. That Lex allowed himself to be so weak might normally make him hate himself but it’s hard to hate himself with Clark’s tongue in his mouth and Clark’s arms around him.
When did Clark become the one to offer comfort?
“I’m sorry,” Clark whispers. “I thought you might have been-“ he cuts himself off.
“Might have been what?” What on earth did Clark think he was doing?
“I don’t know. I just didn’t think it was about me.”
“Clark,” Lex says, kissing him again before pulling away and looking into Clark’s eyes, feeling nothing but wonder, heart full, throat tight with emotion. “It’s *always* about you.”
Clark smiles and so does Lex.
They both know that isn’t a lie.