Word count: 2,900
Spoilers: Reckoning, although vague to the point of nonexistent.
Notes: It doesn’t get much more plotless than this, please try not to die of shock. Thanks to the wonderful bop_radar for the awesome beta.
Summary: Lex finds Clark asleep on a scorching summer afternoon. Clark is naked. Things happen. Well wouldn’t you?
Feedback: Is like naked Clark but better.
This gorgeous cover is by laurab1
Too Hot Not To Handle, by Kate
It’s so hot. Lex hates being hot and he hates Smallville in the middle of summer. He’s got the thinnest long sleeved t-shirt he owns on, with the sleeves pushed up his forearms, but he feels suffocated. After this errand, he’ll head back to the mansion and go swimming.
The thought makes him smile at himself in the rear view mirror, and the sweet relief of the air conditioning kicking in makes him sigh. This is the coolest he’s been all day.
Visiting the Kent farm used to be easy. Now it’s just an inconvenience and possibly an uncomfortable one. But he needs Mrs Kent to sign these stupid forms so she can officially not be working at the Talon anymore and then maybe he’ll have to deal with that family even less than he does already.
He pulls up at the house and haphazardly parks. He only plans to stay a minute anyway; he wants to get back home and out of these clothes as soon as possible. He checks his watch. Three o’clock.
Lex gets out of the car and grimaces as the thick heat envelops him. He forces himself to relax, which is surprisingly easy. It’s so quiet and tranquil here – all Lex can hear are farm animals in the distance and the chirping of cicadas - and the knowledge that Jonathan Kent won’t be there to insult him fills Lex with calming detachment.
Is Martha Kent even home? The front door is open but the house appears to be deserted. He walks around quietly for longer than necessary, searching for nothing in particular in the living room, studying the homely unsophisticated décor for no real reason. Unless remembering a yearning he’s never fully understood is a reason.
He leaves the envelope on the kitchen table and considers writing a note, but he doesn’t. He should leave.
He should leave.
It’s not that he feels guilty about entering Clark’s house without permission, because why the hell should he? Clark’s always seen the castle as a place he can go to without an invitation. He used to visit Lex there. From the day they met, Clark’s been a presence in Lex’s home, and even though he doesn’t exactly visit anymore - he storms in angrily and yells - Lex can’t turn him away, can’t tell him to keep out of his affairs, out of his life. He’s thought about it often and it makes sense to do so, but he can’t seem to… imagine a home without Clark. Angry Clark is better than no Clark.
Lex walks to the door and turns around to have another look at the life he used to think he wanted, but mostly he just feels indifference. His eyes drift over to the stairs and…
What does it matter? He doesn’t care any more, so why the hell not keep snooping? He knows he won’t find anything incriminating, but it’s not about that.
It’s about saying goodbye. Sentimental garbage really, but somehow agreeable to Lex.
He climbs the stairs lethargically. This fucking heat. Lex can feel his whole body breaking out in a fresh sweat. He walks sluggishly down the hall, eyeing each door and considering looking in every room, but he doesn’t stop until he reaches Clark’s bedroom. The door’s only open a sliver, so Lex puts his palm flat in the middle of it, and pushes gently.
The door opens without squeaking and reveals that Lex is not alone in the house.
Clark is here, asleep on his bed. Lex’s body goes entirely still and he literally stops breathing.
Sheet in a rumpled heap at the end of the bed. Clark… naked.
Naked and glowing and glorious, body long and powerful and golden. Sprawled out on the bed, on his back, one leg straight, the other bent, heavy balls nestled between his legs, cock, thick and long and mostly soft, resting on his inner thigh. One muscular arm bent up over his head, the other stretched out to the side, forearm hanging off the edge of the bed.
Clark’s mouth is slightly open and he looks peaceful. It’s a striking sight, and Lex can’t tear his eyes away. He just stands there in the doorway and mindlessly studies Clark’s body and face.
He should go.
But then Clark stirs and Lex is struck with a second’s worth of useless panic; he still can’t seem to move his legs.
Clark’s not awake but he must be somehow aware of Lex because Clark smiles and shifts a little on the bed and says, “Hi, Lex,” without even opening his eyes. God. He sounded…
Then Clark’s eyes do open and he blinks a few times and processes the fact that Lex is actually there and not remotely welcome and the smile fades. He looks down at himself and quickly sits up, grabs the sheet, and pulls it up over his left leg and his groin, then collapses onto his back again.
“Lex?” he says, sleepy and confused.
Lex wants to speak almost as much as he wants to not be there, but he can’t find the right words.
“What are you doing here?”
“I… had to drop off some papers for your mom.”
Clark just looks at him, which is probably a fair enough response to his non-answer. At this point, Lex wants nothing more than to leave the Kents’ house and never come back, but his brain doesn’t seem to be in control right now, because he’s finding it impossible to say anything intelligent or move any of his limbs.
“Were you…” Clark starts, then apparently decides against asking whatever it was he was going to ask, which makes Lex really want to know what it was. “How long have you been standing there?”
Lex blinks. “I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “A while.” How to read the expression on Clark’s face? It’s as if he’s waiting for Lex to explain himself yet he has no feeling about it either way.
“Were you watching me sleep?” And that must be the question from before and it’s a good one.
Lex nods. No point lying about it. Clark reacts by doing nothing other than staring. Waiting for more.
Lex clears his throat. “When you were still asleep, you must have sensed my presence because you said, ‘Hi Lex.’” Where is he going with this?
“You sounded…” Lex tries his hardest to keep his voice neutral. “… pleased to see me.”
That surprises Clark enough to lower his eyes for a second and then he says with a regretful smile, “We’re not always enemies in my dreams, Lex.”
That answer is just begging to be questioned and Lex finds himself taking a few steps into Clark’s bedroom then stopping again.
“What are we?” he asks quietly.
“Sometimes we’re enemies. Sometimes we’re friends.” Clark pauses. “Sometimes…”
Lex smiles a little. “You dream about me a lot, then?” And Clark laughs, but his laugh is tinged with bitterness.
The last few paces to the bed are easy and now Lex is standing within touching distance but he won’t touch. He can’t touch.
He can look though. So that’s what he does. He lets his eyes travel over all the skin still on display; there’s a lot of it. The sheet is barely covering Clark’s crotch and the top of his pubic hair is visible.
As he examines the flawless skin of Clark’s upper thigh Lex speaks again, vague yet interested. “Sometimes we’re what, Clark?”
An almost imperceptible movement, but it looked like Clark pushed his hips up a little.
“Sometimes we’re neither.”
Lex looks back up at Clark’s face sharply and is completely disarmed by the little smile Clark’s wearing. He chokes out a quiet laugh and sits on the edge of the bed.
He doesn’t think he’s imagining Clark’s enjoyment at being looked at. Convenient then, because Lex can’t stop himself.
Clark’s nipples are hard and it’s not cold.
“Do you mind me looking at you?” Lex murmurs.
Clark answers by pushing the sheet off himself. Under Lex’s riveted gaze, Clark’s cock slowly fills with blood and gets harder and harder, until it’s huge and hard and pointing at Clark’s chin and Lex can hear himself breathing. Loud and shaky.
He drags his eyes back to Clark’s face and grits his teeth. He’s never seen Clark look turned on before—not because of Lex at any rate—and it fills him with equal parts regret and want.
Clark’s expression is hard to read. He’s obviously dying to touch himself, or be touched by Lex, but there’s still a part of him that isn’t sure about what’s happening here. Not that Lex can blame him, although he’s ready to make things clear now.
“Touch yourself,” he says. Without hesitation Clark wraps a hand around his cock and starts stroking. His breathing quickens and his eyes don’t move from Lex’s face. He starts moving more urgently into his own fist, and his desperate little gasps tell Lex that Clark’s going to come any second.
“Slow down,” he orders, grabbing Clark’s fist in his own and forcing Clark to slow his strokes. He leaves his hand where it is for a while, fingers curled around Clark’s, because he’s always wanted to jack Clark off and it feels good to be finally doing it. The skin of Clark’s cock so close to the skin of Lex’s palm, not close enough. But he needs to calm Clark down, so he can’t touch him yet. “That’s better,” he breathes out, and he pulls his hand back, but not before swiping his thumb slowly over the burning wet head of Clark’s cock, just once. Enough for Clark to shudder violently and cry out.
Lex goes back to watching, but it’s easier said than done. He settles for putting a hand on Clark’s leg, clasping his calf and enjoying the hairiness; such an unfamiliar texture to Lex. Such an erotic one.
Clark is sliding his left hand up and down his dick and he’s gripping his thigh with his right. Body glistening with sweat now, his eyes glassy with lust, and Lex can barely believe that Clark is such an exhibitionist.
“Open your legs,” he says hoarsely, and Clark does it. He opens his legs a little, and Lex tilts his head and stares between them. “Wider.”
A low moan and Clark bends his knees and spreads his thighs as wide as he can, bucking up into his fist, slow and rhythmic. Balls tight and round and the cleft of his ass opening up, nearly enough for Lex to see…
“Open yourself up,” Lex croaks out. “I want to see.”
Clark understands and with his right hand he reaches down between his legs and pulls one of his ass cheeks aside, so Lex can look.
“Oh Jesus,” Lex whispers, jamming a hand down over his own erection which makes Clark groan and speed up the hand around his cock again.
Lex shifts up the bed and seizes Clark’s right wrist, drawing Clark’s hand away from his ass and Lex smells Clark’s fingers hungrily – a potent mixture of sweat and skin and sex and Clark - then sucks two into his mouth. He grasps Clark’s other hand again to make him slow down.
When he’s satisfied that Clark’s fingers are slick enough, he pulls off and moves back to where he was sitting before.
“Put them inside yourself.”
This time Clark reaches around his thigh and he circles the little hole with slippery fingertips, then he pushes two inside slowly.
One hand jerking his cock, the other fucking himself with his fingers.
Lex’s t-shirt is wet and clinging to him and he might pass out from this heat if he doesn’t remove his clothes soon, so he peels it up his chest and pulls it off, dropping it on the floor carelessly, then he stands.
Clark’s eyes rove all over his chest and then fix themselves on the tented crotch of Lex’s slacks.
“Oh Lex… I’m gonna…”
Clark’s really going for it. Fast and hard.
“Not yet, Clark,” Lex chokes out. “Don’t come yet.”
He kicks off his shoes and unbuckles his belt, not bothering to pull it out of the loops. Ripping off the top buttons of his pants and it’s still not fast enough; he yanks down his fly and pushes his pants and boxers down as quickly as possible, pulling off his socks as he goes. Clark can’t seem to slow down though and there’s not much time.
He gets up on the bed and kneels between Clark’s open legs. He holds himself up with one hand pressed into Clark’s chest, and Clark lets go of himself so Lex can take over. Dick, hard and hot and huge in Lex’s hand, and it’s two, three more vicious strokes before Clark comes with a strangled cry.
Lex catches as much of Clark’s come as he can, and he hastily smoothes it down over his own cock, slicking himself thoroughly and then lining himself up.
He pushes his cock into Clark’s ass in one fast, fluid motion and he wastes no time before he starts to fuck. Up on his knees, arms wrapped around Clark’s thighs, holding them in the air, long hard thrusts in and out of Clark’s ass. He’s going to come soon, he’s going to come inside Clark, he wants to come…
But he wants to keep fucking as well because it’s been a while and it’s never been Clark before, so he slows down a bit and tries to think.
“I need to get deeper,” he says, voice thick and barely recognizable. He pulls out and wipes the sweat out of his eyes with the back of his hand. “Turn over and get on your hands and knees.”
Clark nods and rubs his cock, which is hard again, then turns over, pliable as ever. Doing everything Lex asks him to. Everything Lex has always wanted Clark to do for him. And time is getting lost because Lex doesn’t understand how he could possibly be collected enough to position himself between Clark’s legs again and not have just come everywhere, but he did it because now he’s watching his cock disappear into Clark’s body once more.
This time he can’t focus on drawing it out. Not this time. He just rams himself inside again and again. Pounding into Clark as if his life depended on it and he knows the way he’s fucking would be dangerous if it were anyone but Clark he was fucking. So hard and brutal and without fear of hurting him. God, wanting it to hurt Clark but it’s not. Clark is loving every minute of it.
Clark is yelling out Lex’s name and when Lex feels Clark coming a second time, he finally lets go and empties himself into Clark, the orgasm so severe it nearly makes him black out.
They lie in a wet heap, Clark on his stomach and Lex half on top of him, their skin sticking together, bodies so hot it should be unbearable, but it’s unthinkable to move away.
It would be easy to fall asleep here. So easy…
Wrapped around Clark, their ruined friendship a non-issue for the first time in years, the oppressive heat making it impossible to care about anything other than the body in his arms.
Lex has no idea if Clark has fallen asleep again because he can’t see Clark’s face. He wants to see Clark’s face.
“Clark,” he croaks out, and they both move. Lex slides off Clark’s back, and Clark turns and they fit back together, Lex’s thigh between Clark’s.
But he can’t think what to say; he’s still not functioning on all cylinders, so he just does the first thing that pops into his hazy mind. He leans in and kisses Clark on the lips. Because the one thing missing from this preposterous afternoon is a little romance.
They make out for a long time.
Strangely, it’s Clark who speaks first.
“That was unexpected,” he says between kisses.
Lex laughs. “You can say that again.” He looks into clear green eyes. “Clark, I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long, I’m sorry I…” Why is he so damn inarticulate today? “Are you okay about it?”
A look full of that old sincerity. A quality in Clark that Lex has both loved and hated.
“I think so,” he says. “Although…”
Clark doesn’t need to finish his sentence. Lex knows that what they just did is going to fuck with them both in ways incomprehensible to them right now.
“Clark. I’m going to head back to my place and go swimming. You should come with me.”
Clark grins and Lex hasn’t been the reason for one of Clark’s grins in so long that he feels tears springing into his eyes.
Putting on clothes is painful but necessary, because the sooner he can get Clark out of his mother’s house, the sooner he can do all the things he’s never been able to do until today. Why today?
It’s too hot to care.
They drive to the mansion in amiable silence and head down to the pool.