Innocence

by a campbell

Clark/Lex, NC-17, PWP, "Questionable consent" warning suggested by pepperjackcandy

Spoilers for "Reaper"

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What a week: elderly people and pet dogs dying, the quarrel with his father followed by the silent treatment from both sides. And while physical exertion didn’t generally affect Clark, he was mentally and emotionally exhausted before Lex even arrived.

Clark wasn’t sure just when he’d dozed off. Only that Lex’s soft, sleek voice had been monologuing away, threading on and on about the constellations visible in the night sky outside, and what mythological characters could be seen in the pattern if you squinted hard enough. Lex had appeared shortly after the studying commenced, coaxing Clark rogueishly into abandoning his homework for awhile with the promise of help later. They’d briefly discussed Clark’s classes, and how Lex had handled a similar chemistry assignment in the equivalent of 10th grade.

“I’ll explain later,” Lex vowed.

Then Lana, the default topic of choice, and how, according to Lex, if Clark really wanted to get her to pay more attention to him, he needed to quit hanging back and make a few moves. Not that they hadn’t had the same conversation at least a few times before.

Lex always talked a lot, but Clark always learned something from their conversations. He never minded listening. Or at least, hardly ever minded. But a couple of hours had passed, and they hadn’t yet gotten back to the chemistry assignment. The Milky Way had wheeled south, he jolted awake with a small snort, and--

“Um. Lex.” Clark licked his lips, not daring to breathe.

Because Lex’s palm was on the zipper of his jeans, just resting.

No.

Massaging. He wondered with a gulp he hoped wasn’t audible, if Lex was exactly clear on where his hand was and what it was doing or if Lex was just trying to be comforting and would flip out if he knew he was stroking Clark’s crotch instead of the (surely) intended arm, knee, or even thigh.

Just a moment’s stunned reflection before Clark decided that yeah, Lex must know exactly what he was doing. Lex wouldn’t make dumb mistakes like touching someone’s cock by mistake. Ever.

Lex didn’t make mistakes. Except driving too fast, drinking too much, and asking too many questions.

“Lex,” he heard his own voice rasp as though he were an ordinary person with a really sore throat. He could swear a slight quiver began at Lex’s lips and spread over his body, like a gust stirring an aspen in the path of a spring storm. Desperately, he tried to ignore how warm Lex’s palm felt through the denim. “What are you doing?”

No answer. Lex just pressed closer, kneaded a little more decisively, and met Clark’s gaze with a cool, smug glance of his own.

This was weird.

So close Clark could feel the warmth of his body. He tensed and pushed back a little on the couch, not daring to meet Lex’s eyes.

Okay, this was really weird. His new best friend was—

Clark shifted uncomfortably on the worn cushions, stammered again: “Um. Lex.”

Touching him in a spot where guys definitely shouldn’t be touching each other. No way.

Still no response. Moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue, Clark tried again. “I don’t think—“

“Shh,” Lex said in a whisper, and Clark plucked up courage enough to glance in his direction. Despite the cool air in the loft, Lex had a thin gloss of perspiration on his upper lip. His chest was rising and falling noticeably, and Clark could even hear him breathing. Lex, who usually did everything as sleekly and silently as a ghost, was panting lightly with a hoarse little catch in his throat that Clark found absurdly hot. With a small shake of his head, Lex pursed his lips, but so slightly Clark almost thought he had imagined it.

Clark stifled a moan and tried to hide a tremble of excitement. Because the hand was still there. Lex’s lips curved into the barest hint of a smile at the sound.

He completed mentally the sentence he began and abandoned a moment earlier.

I really don’t think we should be doing this.

Maybe Lex was trying to demonstrate a technique that would cut through all the preliminaries and be sure to work on girls. Choosing to show, rather than tell. But Clark wished fervently that he’d specified this in a line or two of conversation before he’d just started...feeling him up. At least he’d have been more...prepared.

If Lex was okay with this, Clark shouldn’t be embarrassed that it was making him hard. According to health class, it was natural for that to happen, and pretty normal for him when anything touched him down there: a towel, a blanket, boxers... much less someone’s hand. Much less a hand as determined as this one. Much less Lex’s. And besides, it felt good. Really good, so much better than when he touched himself. No comparison, really.

Did Lex notice? How could he not?

Clark stole another uneasy glance over and down, unable to keep himself from staring in shamed fascination at Lex’s crotch. He could tell through the fine linen pants that Lex was hard, too. He looked up at Lex, who wasn’t smiling now, and lowered his eyes just as quickly, cheeks burning at the heat in Lex’s gaze. A quick gasp caught in his throat when Lex took his hand, pressed and coaxed his palm flat to his own crotch, when Clark felt the taut flesh through the fine fabric, rising to meet his clumsy fingers. Lex murmured something at the contact, and Clark was astounded at the raw thrill that sped through him at the sound. Dissipating in a blinding flash and leaving him trembling, waiting.

Lex was nuzzling his neck, pressing into his side, and God, was that Lex’s tongue teasing along his collarbone, Lex’s breath cooling the light trail of saliva left behind?

“I’ll stop, if that’s what you want.” After a dazed moment, renewed excitement sped through Clark’s body at the soft warmth of Lex’s voice. Lex sounded as though he didn’t expect an answer. And Clark really thought he must be certifiably nuts, because instead of saying: “Yeah, dammit. Stop,” he just dumbly shook his head.

“But something tells me you want this instead.” Lex kept stroking. And whispering, shortly, right by Clark’s jugular, a hot stream of words that made Clark feel dirty and cherished all at once.

Want you...so damn hot. Gorgeous. Most beautiful...I’ve ever seen. Fuck you till you...”

Clark’s head fell back on the couch cushion as his eyes dropped shut. Lex’s touch was becoming more focused, his caresses more insistent. And Clark’s cock, getting harder by the second, was just about ready to rip a hole through his jeans.

His breath caught in his throat when Lex circled the head with his finger and thumb and pinched, quick and right through the denim, chuckling at Clark’s embarrassing squeak. Blood flooded his cheeks as Clark realized he was leaking through the fabric, apparently at the same time Lex did, because within a moment, Lex shot him this amused little glance, repositioned himself, bent down and just licked, his tongue broad and flat, dampening the material still further. Clark gasped, groaned, and slid down further on the sofa, legs falling open a little wider, hips pushing his still-clothed cock up toward Lex’s mouth almost on their own.

“Yeah,” he heard himself sigh, half-opening his eyes just long enough to register Lex’s expression: focused, intent. Clark gnawed his lower lip as his lids dropped again.

He wasn’t about to stoop so low as to x-ray through his eyelids, but he could let himself feel. Lex, reaching with slim fingers to unbutton and unzip. Questing fingers probed into the flap of Clark’s boxers to touch straining flesh as Clark tried and failed to stifle another groan. And he just had to open his eyes again.

To see Lex, drawing his cock out, then sitting back on his heels to study him for a moment in silence. Clark forced himself to stay still and wait for Lex to speak, wondering uneasily if Lex liked what he saw, or... He waited for what seemed like ages.

Until Lex gave him the hottest look imaginable, leaned in and just sucked him down.

Clark bit his fist to keep from screaming.

He pressed his eyes tight shut, giving himself over to keen sensation as Lex’s mouth worked him. Shuddered as the nimble tongue whipped around the head, tip pressing into the slit. He looked down once or twice through a haze of pleasure at the pearl-smooth sheen of Lex’s scalp, dipping up, then down, small beads of perspiration forming on his satin brow. Heard, with surprise, his own voice, desperate, babbling some of the same dirty words, gasping as Lex sucked.

Lex shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be enjoying it. But it was too late to stop, now.

And it was good, so good...God.

Clark’s head dropped back on the sofa as the tidal wave of sensation carried him away on a great, crashing crest. He came with a shout and collapsed trembling on the couch cushions as aftershocks pulsed through his body.

He opened his eyes a crack, perspiration beading on his brow despite the cool loft air as his breathing slowed. Lex was back beside him on the couch, eyes closed. Clark was astounded at the relief he felt to note the spreading damp spot on the front of Lex’s slacks. He beat down the crazy urge to chuckle and say something snarky.

But what should he say? “Thanks”? He should say something.

He decided to go for it. Gently, he touched Lex’s arm. “Lex. Thanks.”

Slowly, Lex opened his eyes and turned to him. “Glad I could help.” He shrugged. “Just part of your education. I said I’d help you study, right?”

Clark exhaled, smiled weakly, nodded slowly. Help with Lana. Oh, right.

Clark struggled to sit up and fumbled with his fly, then zipped and buttoned without meeting Lex’s eyes. Feeling a little vulnerable and sensitive, now that it was all over.

When he glanced back up, Lex was swiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket and looking at him like he was a Peanut Buster Parfait from Dairy Queen with extra whipped cream and nuts, not to mention a cherry. Clark relaxed with a smile of relief.

“That was...great.”

Lex looked like he was trying not to laugh. “So, any questions?”

Clark hesitated. What was this: a quiz? Maybe he should say something like: Lex, how exactly did you do that thing with your tongue where you—

But of course he couldn’t say that. Clark’s mind raced on, thoughts skittering, thudding into each other. This was about a lot more than Lana, wasn’t it? He thought, but was too shy to say. He knew it was. Somehow, though he hadn’t quite realized it, he’d seen this train crash coming for awhile, now. He did say:

“So what was that all about?”

Lex shrugged as he reached for his coat. “That remains to be seen. Let’s just say: I remember what it’s like to be sixteen. Maybe the experience will benefit you in the future.”

Clark clasped and unclasped his hands in front of him. He wished Lex didn’t have to leave, but maybe they both needed some time alone to process what had happened. “So, where do we go from here?”

“Wherever you want, Clark. That’s for you to decide.”

What I want? Clark turned the thought over and over like a jeweler assessing a rare gem. What about you?

“Have fun fishing with your dad. Give me a call when you get back.”

And with a final wink, Lex was gone, vanished into the winter night. Clark waited and listened for the sound of the Porsche roaring to life. It took longer than he expected; Lex must have parked quite a way from the house.

Clark stood up, stretched, and reached for the striped afghan, which was jammed into the back of the couch. He folded it slowly, not daring yet to think over what had happened tonight. Those were memories to be savored later, in the darkness and silence of the night.

It probably shouldn’t have happened. Things could never be the same between them, now.

But he was glad it had. So glad.

Because maybe the future that waited for them would be better yet.

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