The Next Best Thing

by a campbell

Clark Kent/Lex Luthor NC-17

Spoilers: General for S1

Thanks to fajrdrako for the beta

____________________

He’d hoped for this since the reluctant press of keys into his palm that autumn afternoon by the bridge. The truck was brand-new, deluxe model, chosen with care for its likelihood to appeal to the youth who had saved him from becoming fish food a few days before. All in vain.

Clark Kent. So sad, resigned, disheartened yet dignified. So obedient to the farmer father who was steadfast in insisting the truck be returned.

He’d vowed to make it up to him then and there, and, if his family wouldn’t allow the reward of a truck for restoring Lex to life, to offer other recompense. Something more transient, but perhaps better. Because if it were good this time, there was no reason it couldn’t be repeated. Again and, hopefully, again.

Which was why he was yanking down zipper, then jeans, and dropping to the dusty wooden floor under Clark’s startled, mixed, conflicted gaze.

“Lex.” Tense, his eyes darkened with what appeared a combination of fear and desire. Clark put his big hand over Lex’s to slow his progress, continuing with a half-laugh and a small shake of his dusky head. “I don’t think we should--"

"Don’t think about this," Lex advised him in a whisper. So much depended on it. "About whether it’s right or wrong. Just feel. Let yourself feel. That’s all."

Clark opened his mouth as though to protest, then closed it again in confusion, and. Lex held his breath. Cows lowed and crickets buzzed in the dark fields outside. What would win out? Morals? Curiosity, desire?

Clark shifted from one foot to the other, white teeth worrying his bottom lip. "This is such a bad idea,” he ground out. "I just--"

Instead of arguing, Lex reached up to touch, stroke, noting the warmth of Clark’s firm flesh through the cloth. He pursed his lips and aimed a cool breath at the damp flap of the boxers. "I know. But are you sure?" he murmured. He saw the way the fabric shifted with the twitch of hard flesh beneath, and decided right then that he had to see more. Have more. And not to take no for an answer.

He shivered in the dank early-winter air of the loft, leaned closer, savoring the heat of Clark’s body. A hesitant finger reached out to trace his mouth with unexpected gentleness, and he glanced up.

"No," Clark was gazing down at him with a rueful smile. "I'm not." His palm settled near Lex’s ear to cup his head and hold it still. Shifting his hip, Clark pressed closer, till his cloth-covered cock nudged Lex’s cheek and the side of his nose. Lex stayed still; Clark muttered something that sounded suspiciously like profanity, kicked off one sneaker, then the other. With one leg, he peeled the jeans off the rest of the way and kicked them across the loft toward the stairs, where they landed in a grass-stained heap.

Lex rocked back on his heels and looked up at Clark, lips curving into a smile. Clark stood there, in flannel shirt, boxers and socks, as though stunned by his own action. Lex chuckled low in his throat. “Well, let me help you make up your mind.” His hands glided up Clark’s bare thighs. Fingers crept up the front of the boxers, found the slit, crept inside. Warm flesh swelled, rose to meet his questing hand. From touch alone, he could tell: this was something special. He had to see.

He had to see, and then he had to make sure Clark received as much pleasure as he could possibly give. It was the most important mission at the moment: more important than Luthorcorp, more important than returning to the city, more important than the hope of hearing his father say on some far-off day: "Lex--good work." And it was for him first, before anyone else, Clark’s virginity--him, not Lana Lang, not Chloe, Whitney or anyone else in this bucolic, backwater place. His.

Lex leaned in and rubbed a cheek gently on cotton fabric, heard himself mumbling crazily: "Clark, relax. Don’t worry. I’ll make it good. I’ll make this so good for you." Almost in desperation, and he never begged anyone for anything. Ever.

Till tonight.

Clark jerked again, and Lex decided right then that it would be foolish to waste any more valuable time. He tried not to fumble as he unfastened the bottom buttons on Clark’s shirt and planted a gentle kiss on Clark’s trim stomach just above his navel. He heard Clark exhale above him on a long sigh, and thinned his lips with determination.

He had him open and out in a matter of seconds, and Lex paused to admire, hardly daring to breathe. Big. No, more than big: massive. Veins lacing, intertwining in a blue-red pattern on ivory skin, blood thrumming below the surface. He blew a cool breath on the wet tip, and reached out a fingertip to touch the thin web of skin that half-covered the head, and smiled, not really surprised. Clark was unusual, original in every other way, so why not this? His hand wandered down to stroke the marbled skin, which swelled even more under his probing caresses, and Lex smothered a chuckle as Clark bit back another curse.

The slight lift of Clark’s lips and the proud shine of his eyes told Lex that he realized the difference, too. The sense of wonder in his gaze, which darkened as he laughed and muttered something in his soft, young voice.

Sensible of his own panting breaths, saliva gathering in the corners of his mouth, Lex leaned in closer, determined.

"Clark," Lex began huskily, which caused Clark’s breath to hitch. He breathed out another curse word as he reached to curve a palm around Lex’s bare scalp and pull him in closer. Lex submitted without protest, running the tip of his tongue under the now-exposed head and the membrane that attached it to the covering of skin. With a shaky groan, Clark reached to wrap a palm around his cock. Holding it steady, he nudged at Lex’s mouth with the tip.

The trouble with a blowjob at this particular moment in Lex’s life was that he couldn’t see Clark’s face. He wanted desperately to watch that beautiful countenance contort in the blissful agony of arousal, then melt with ecstasy as Lex brought him off. Well, he’d just have to look up every few seconds as he worked. Funny, he’d never before worried about seeing the face of the person he was blowing. He’d never really cared before. Never. Now, he cared so much.

Now, if he could just get his mouth around it--He opened wide and went down, feeling his lips stretch, tasting the blessed warmth of Clark’s flesh.

"Am I hurting you?" Clark’s voice, trembling and breathless.

Clark, always so careful of everyone but himself. Lex, mouth full, shook his head, which he figured probably made things extra titillating for Clark on the receiving end.

"Good," panted Clark. "'Cause I don’t think I can stop."

Something like that was exactly what Lex had hoped to hear.

"But tell me if I hurt you at all, and I will stop. Somehow. I don’t want to hurt you, Lex. I don’t want to do that, ever."

Reluctantly, Lex pulled off in order to respond. "Don’t worry about me, Clark." He looked up for a golden instant, saw Clark lick his lips and felt warm fingers glide from the base of his neck up the back of his head, then cup the back of his head again with impossible gentleness. He could hear Clark’s open-mouthed breaths, punctuated every so often by a whimper, then a moan, then a groan, low, intense. Fingers teased Lex’s lips open again; Clark held his head steady and pushed his cock in, deeper this time, pumping slowly, rhythmically, yet seemingly trying hard to be as gentle as he could. Lex felt his mouth expand to accommodate the heated flesh, blessedly full, and let himself relax, let Clark take control.

"Yeah," Clark chanted breathlessly. "Oh. Yeah. Mmm." Between pants. "I’m not choking you, am I?"

Lex made a sound in his throat and shook his head again. Clark must have found this even more arousing, because he picked up the pace. Lex turned off his thoughts and just focused on savoring Clark’s motions and the steady stream of babble that issued from Clark’s mouth and continued as he worked.

"That’s good, Lex, so good. God, just like that, please. Harder." He groaned, low, husky, in a voice Lex was hearing for the first time. "Faster."

First time, probably, Lex thought. Thank God he was here for it.

"Don’t stop, Lex, please. God."

He wouldn’t dream of it.

Dipped down as far as he could, to the nest of black curls at the base, left a wet trail as he glided back up, slipping his tongue around the head slowly, delicately, then back down again...

"Mmmph," Clark groaned. “I’m--" He shoved Lex back, gently but firm, and Lex brushed at a string of saliva that stretched thinly between Clark’s cock and his mouth.

"What is it?" he hissed in a terse whisper. What in hell--

Clark didn’t answer. Lex looked up to see him freeze for a second, tight fist gripping his cock, which pulsed, spat, shot creamy jets of come, ribboning out over the loft floor, landing on Lex’s trousers, his cuffs, even hitting his face.

Okay.

"What the-- Clark..." he sputtered, groping and gasping for something, anything.
'
Clark’s voice, agonized and tender. "Oh, God. Oh, shoot. Lex, I am really sorry. Here." Lex’s vision cleared as a box of tissues pushed into his hand. Clark grabbed a wadded t-shirt from the couch and bent to dab at Lex’s chin and cheeks. "I’m so sorry."

Lex pulled a handful of tissues from the box. "It’s okay, Clark. Don’t worry about it."

“Why the hell did you push me off?”

“I just figured you wouldn’t want to swallow,” Clark gasped as his breathing slowed. He lifted an arm to wipe perspiration from his brow with his sleeve.

“What gave you that idea?”

Clark shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Lex didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he’d looked forward to the taste of Clark’s come, bursting into his mouth in creamy, bleachlike spurts. “Maybe we should have discussed that beforehand.”

“Discussed?” Clark lauged as he tucked himself back in, zipped and fastened his jeans. "Lex, did anyone ever tell you you talk way too much?"

“Never,” Lex replied, still sitting on his heels. He smiled to see Clark looking refreshed and relaxed, a contrast to the tense and heated arousal of a mere few minutes before.

Clark reached out a hand to draw Lex to his feet. "Lex. Thanks. Even with the miscommunication, that was...fantastic. I didn’t know--"

Lex threw the wet shirt where Clark’s jeans had been. "I can show you a lot more." Being Clark’s ongoing educator in sexual matters was an appealing prospect Lex knew he couldn’t resist.

Clark looked off across the loft, seeming nonplussed and crestfallen all of a sudden. “Why do you want me?” Clark asked. "You’re brilliant and cool--you run a business, for Pete’s sake. I’m young, boring, and messed up. My dad’s rude to you." A rueful chuckle. "I just came all over your face!"

A quick swipe of palm over his mouth muffled Lex’s snort of laughter.

Clark kept talking. “What is it about me that you like?”

Lex resisted the temptation to ask Clark whether he’d looked in the mirror over the past five years or so. He settled for: “Ask me later.”

He looked back up, once, as he reached the main floor. Clark leaned over the rail with a warm smile and a wave. “When’s 'later'? Tomorrow?”

Lex glanced back up. "Wait and see," he replied in the softest, sleekest tone he could summon, noting with pleasure how Clark’s eyes darkened with a desire not yet quenched.

His thoughts were still whirring as he strode out of the barn and into the crisp night air, footsteps crunching on snow.

_________________

Feedback is welcome at amoss53@yahoo.com

Return to homepage