After Hours

by a campbell

Clark Kent/Lex Luthor NC-17

Spoilers: Very general for later S1 Warning: Slight non-con

____________________

Clark kicked under the table, his foot connecting with nothing.

"Stop it, Lex. Get up, for Chrissakes."

A persuasive tug on his pant leg. "Clark, come on."

Clark laid down his mechanical pencil with a scowl.

Though he knew Lex couldn’t see him from under the linen tablecloth, Clark shook his head. And hoped to hell that no one else in the coffee shop could spot Lex crouching on the floor. Good thing they were in the furthest booth back, in the corner, far away from the counter and the few lingering customers. Lana had locked the outside door ten minutes ago.

Not that Lex could get kicked out, anyway--he owned the place. But he could be so immature sometimes. And if even one over-zealous patron blew the whistle on him—--
Lex could probably buy his way out of it.

Clark sighed, his entire body tense, alert, charged.

Maybe "immature" wasn’t the best choice of words, considering what Lex was trying to get Clark to agree to let him do. Clark told himself he didn’t really want to be having this discussion, but Lex’s persuasive powers could be pretty irresistible when focused and applied full force.

"Just this once, Clark. You can drive the Jag all weekend if you’ll let me suck you off."

Maybe evasion was the best tactic, Clark thought uneasily as warmth rose up his throat and into his cheeks. "Sure, Lex," he stalled. "Like I’d ever say 'no' to that. As soon as we get back to your place." He reached under the table and tried to smother a squeak as Lex sucked his pinky finger into his mouth.

"No," said Lex. Clark yanked his hand back and lifted the corner of the tablecloth against his better judgement. Lex’s eyes glinted up at him with cool mischief. "Right now. Here."

When Lex spoke in that low, husky voice, it made Clark think of bedrooms, crackling fires, and the aroma of iced Scotch and crisp linen sheets. He shifted in discomfort and took a deep breath before answering. "You’re joking, right?"

Lex shook his head. "The Jag it is."

Peering down, Clark shook his. "Right, Lex. With Lana still here? No way, come on."
His eyes locked with Lex’s for a face-off of at least thirty seconds.

Lex’s palm, resting on Clark’s thigh, moved, stroked. "That’ll just make it more interesting," he insisted in the same silken tone. "She’s busy closing up. Trust me."

Whenever Lex said, "Trust me," Clark’s powers of resistance crumbled at once. Not that Clark’s resistance wasn’t generally pretty minimal to begin with. He knew Lex was like Master Mouth (and tongue) when it came to blow jobs, and proud of his skill. Besides, Lex seemed to like sucking him off almost as much as he enjoyed being sucked off. Which was no doubt why Lex was being so pushy about it right now. At any rate, Clark rarely had the strength to stand firm. Well, except for...

But here, in the Talon? He knew it was a bad idea. That he should say no, definitely. Refuse, absolutely.

Lex was still talking. "There’s the tablecloth. And the lighting back here is dim...intimate..." Nimble fingers crept up to Clark’s crotch, earning a moan from Clark’s tightly constricted throat.

"Mmm," Clark breathed in spite of himself.

Still, hanging around with Lex was like a drug, because he knew that six weeks ago he’d never have agreed to this. Let Lex blow him off in the Talon while there were still a couple of customers plus Lana in the building? Tablecloth or not?

Clark’s first reaction was that Lex had to be crazy.

His second thought: why didn’t he have more backbone?

His third: yeah, it might be fun.

Fourth: they could really get in trouble. Like, arrested, or something. Sheriff Adams would wander in for one of her triple-cappucinos and be on them in a heartbeat, pitching them in the slammer and pocketing the key with glee, so fast and so serious it would take one of Lex’s famous teams of lawyers to get them out. If she’d even allow him a phone call, that is.

His last thought in the series was that he’d probably die, or faint, if he didn’t get Lex’s mouth on him soon. Like now.

"Is that a yes?" Lex’s low voice was brisk with impatience.

Clark grasped his steaming mug of coffee and, lifting it to his lips, sipped slowly. He didn’t actually agree, though he settled back in the cushioned leather seat. But he didn’t say 'no', either. And Lex seemed to be taking no answer for yes, because his fingers were already gliding again up Clark’s calves and over his knees. Clark coughed as the swallow of hot coffee went down the wrong throat.

"Good," Lex’s satisfied voice issued from beneath the tablecloth. "Because I always get what I want."

***
Clark felt Lex’s warm hands, slim, surprisingly strong, grasp his legs and push them firmly apart. The rub of Lex’s smooth cheek along his thigh, then Lex’s tongue running down the fabric of his pants near his fly.

The previous negotiations had already made Clark half hard, but now all the blood in his body that wasn't already in his cheeks went rushing to his cock. He sensed rather than heard Lex’s pleased chuckle, gave a little gasp when he felt Lex’s palm press against his now-stiff cock, still trapped in his khakis. Clark gave a small groan.

"Ready for a refill?"

Clark jerked up, dazed. He must have been way too focused on what was going on under the table, or maybe had his eyes closed, because Lana was at his elbow and he hadn’t even heard her walk up. He nodded, still coughing, pressing the back of his wrist to his mouth.

"Want it topped off?" She smiled brightly down at him, holding up the carafe.

“Sure,” he said faintly, shoving his mug to the edge of the table with a trembling hand. He wished she hadn’t use quite those exact words.

Lex’s hand smoothed lightly over his pant leg. Clark was rock-hard now, cock pressing tight against the khaki fabric, straining for Lex’s first touch. Even Lana’s presence wasn’t enough to dispel the power of his arousal. But Lex was making him wait.

Clark exhaled a shaky breath and smiled a too-bright smile up at Lana, wishing fervently that she’d just serve him his coffee and get lost.

Lana glanced down at him with eyes half-closed as she tipped the carafe and poured. "Last one, though. We close in fifteen minutes."

Clark took a deep breath. "Yeah, sure. I’m just..."

Leaking a little, he thought in desperation. How was he going to get out of the shop with a big, huge damp spot on his fly?

Lex was evil.

Lana glanced down at the open text book and moved closer, leaned down. "Studying for the biology test?"

Sort of, Clark thought. He aimed a weak smile in her general direction and shrugged as he lifted the mug of fresh coffee to his lips with a still-shaking hand and blew.

"Well, don’t forget Social Studies. And Trig. There’s a test tomorrow."

"Oh. Right."

Lana made that really weird face, the one where she screwed up her and spoke in that lisp of hers. "Sure you’re okay?"

Clark gulped and nodded. "Sure." He shifted in his seat and glanced uneasily around the room, where the sparse crowd had thinned even more. "Yeah. Just kind of preoccupied with school and... stuff." A hand fumbled at his belt. With a bizarre combination of panic and excitement, Clark felt his zipper slide down, and the earth shift beneath him. He tried to kick at Lex again with his foot and missed. "Cut it out," he hissed.

Lana gave him a strange look. "You must be studying hard, Clark. You look pretty tense."

He nodded, hoping in desperation that she had other tables waiting, or something. Even though the place was nearly empty.

"Drink up," she said brightly. "It's decaf."

He nodded. Now will you go? he thought in desperation.

"Wait," said Lana abruptly.

Clark froze. Oh, no, was his panicked thought. She knows. He set his cup back down and waited, not daring to breathe. Don’t move, Lex. And just don’ t call the police on us, Lana. Please.

But no, she just pulled out a can of whipped cream and squirted a mound of puffy ribbons onto his coffee.

"Enjoy," she said brightly, and then was gone.

**

Clark sighed, gnawed his lower lip and drummed his fingers on the table with a baleful glance at the melting cream. "Lex," he whispered.

"Clark," Lex’s bland voice issued from under the tablecloth, mimicking Clark's tone.

"You're going to get us in so much trouble."

No answer. Lex’s fingers were fumbling inside his boxers, making cool contact with Clark’s bare, heated skin. He tried to press his legs together, but Lex wouldn’t budge.

He couldn’t let this happen. He reached one hand down to bat Lex’s hand away, and felt Lex’s tongue glide over his fingers.

Which made him even harder.

Lex, you’ve got to stop, he thought. Please. But even as he thought it, he didn’t really mean it. Then his cock was out, and for a moment there was nothing but him feeling like a coffee shop of people could see it bare and standing at full attention, aching for the first touch of Lex’s mouth. He waited, hands clenching into fists, not daring to breathe.

Felt Lex’s warm breath upon the wet tip, cooling the moisture pooling there. Little licks, soft, yet deliberate, like a kitten’s tongue dipping into the slit, slipping under the foreskin and circling the head, so gently that Clark’s heart ached. Then Lex’s fingers fondling his shaft, twisting in the curling hair at the base, cradling his balls. Then the tongue again, light, industrious. Relentless.

Clark found himself quivering as blood rose from his chest up to his jaw and into his cheeks. And his teeth were going to leave indentations in his bottom lip, he was sure.

And then, the wet heat of Lex’s mouth surrounding his cock, enveloping it all at once. Lex starting to suck, hard. Clark slid down a little in the chair and groaned, his legs falling open wider...

"Clark, are you okay? You’re not sick, are you?"

Lana again, damn it. Didn’t she have to go count the till, or something?

"No…uh..." Lex is just deep-throating me, that’s all. In fact, I think that might be his uvula...no cause for concern, none at all. Clark’s breathing picked up despite his trying to slow it down

"Yeah..." he stammered. "I mean, no." Lex was sucking him harder now, industrious lips working hard flesh steadily, and Clark gave him another half-hearted push with his knee, to no avail. He let one hand wander underneath the tablecloth to brush the warm, perspiring skin of Lex’s scalp.

"Clark?" Lana’s worried frown loomed closer. "Do you need me to call a doctor?"

Clark, panting harder now, shook his head, then squeezed his eyes shut tight, his face starting to go into a grimace. He was going to kill Lex, dammit.

He was going to...

"I'll be right back with your check, okay?"

Lana’s voice faded thankfully to a dim drone and a blur of white heat, and thank you, God.

The mechanical pencil snapped in Clark’s hand. He threw it down, slammed his arm on the table with a gasp, and buried his face on his arm, hoping with the last clear thought in his head that Lana was far away. It wouldn’t do to have Lana, or anyone, see his face, all slack jawed, eyes rolling up into his head… Jail for sure.

And, God, it was so good now, so beyond good. He didn’t care if Lana figured out what was going on, didn’t care if the entire police force stormed the building, didn’t care about anything except Lex’s mouth and tongue.

Clark stayed still, aftershocks pulsing through his body. No more thoughts for Lana, or the customers still in the store, nothing but pleasure and satisfaction coursing through his body in waves. He sagged in his chair as Lex's gentle, efficient fingers tucked him carefully back in and zipped him up.

A small voice, as though from far away. "Clark, we’re closing up now."

He struggled to sit up, focused bleary-eyed on Lana’s anxious face. "Oh. Sure." He fumbled for books and backpack as she totaled his check efficiently with a stubby pencil and slipped it under his mug.

"Thanks," he said with a faint smile, groping in his jacket pocket for his wallet.

"And tell Lex to come out from under there and drive you home. We have a test in Trig at 8 tomorrow morning. Just in case you forgot."

For a moment, Clark sat stunned still as Lana’s remark sank in. He looked up, trying to ignore the cold dread coursing down his spine to his toes, and wondered just how much community service he was going to have to do for this one.

She didn’t look as horrified as he would have expected. A touch scornful, maybe, but mainly just amused, indulgent. And curious.

He sat, afraid to move, listening to the clang of the cash register as the lights dimmed. Muffled snuffles and snorts from under the table, and, Lex never snorted, for God’s sake.

Lex was laughing like crazy.

“I think you should leave her a good-sized tip.” A press of bills into Clark's hand where it rested on his knee.

Cheeks burning, Clark took one last,light swing at Lex’s arm with his sneakered foot.

"I’ll get you later for this," he muttered.

"I hope you will, Clark."

_________________

Feedback is welcome at amoss53@yahoo.com

Return to homepage