The Painting Project

by a campbell

Smallville, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor

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This fic was written in November 2002, and was occasioned by two things: thamiris asking for fics with blow jobs, and my actually reading this fic, already half-composed, in an early-morning dream. The "SNL" sequence was taken almost verbatim from the dream, so if it seems weird, that’s why. I still have an unusually soft spot in my heart for this story, although I’m not sure why. I just know I always love innocent, clueless Clark and sly, teasing Lex with an agenda to execute. This was, maybe, my second sex scene ever to write, so it might seem a little...stiff?

stone_princess was my beta for this story, and fajrdrako was inspired by her Muse to tell the same story from Lex’s viewpoint in The Paint Job.

This is the revised version, posted April 21, 2004.

I don't own Lex, Clark, or any of the SV characters. Which is a shame.

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I

The morning had flown, lunchtime was approaching, and the Smallville High Academic Team was running behind on its self-imposed schedule. It was the Saturday for the team's shift on the renovation and repair of the Mason homestead on the outskirts of town. The house and grounds were well on their way to being declared a historic site, with the combined help of the local schools and civic groups, and each extracurricular group at Smallville High was responsible for staffing the place on a different weekend.

Lex was painting faster and covering more ground than any of the high school kids, who were all more or less wasted from the football game and subsequent party the night before. Clark, holding himself down to an average speed, was surprised to observe his pace. Clark had invited Lex on the project earlier in the week, knowing his friend was a staunch supporter of historic preservation, and Lex had seemed pleased to be included. "I'm not afraid of getting my hands dirty, Clark," he had assured him, and, when the rest of the group had arrived that morning around eight, he had been waiting, appropriately attired in well-worn jeans and a t-shirt. Wow, he has work clothes, Clark had thought, surprised and impressed. And he's on time--no, early. He'd been expecting Lex to wander by sometime in the afternoon, mostly just observe, and stay for maybe a couple of hours at best.

He couldn't help preening inwardly when Lex had greeted him before speaking to anyone else, and produced a small cooler with enough of that fancy blue-bottled water to tide both of them through the entire day. Pity his poor team-mates: stuck with the local store brand. After all, Clark had been crushing on Lex for awhile, though he had yet to admit it completely to himself. But, he could admit that he had no idea yet how Lex really felt about him. Still, he enjoyed getting whatever time with him he could, wherever he could.

The teams had soon all split up randomly into separate rooms to clean, scrape, repair, and paint. Clark and Pete wound up in the dining room, wielding paintbrushes side by side, and Lex was applying smooth, neat strokes to the wall across the passageway. Pete was ominously silent, and sensitive Clark could feel the bad vibes. His younger friend seemed bent on making it really obvious that Lex's presence was disagreeable to him. While Clark knew that Lex would never be rattled by this, it still made him a little uncomfortable, having two friends who didn't get along. The silence was sort of deafening. Maybe, he thought, if he got Pete talking, things would warm up.

He cast an uneasy glance in Pete's direction. They didn't have a single class together this semester, so they couldn't discuss homework. They'd thoroughly exhausted the topic of last night's game before breakfast. But wait. Pete was a big fan of Saturday Night Live. Bingo. Clark moistened his lips and paused only a moment before speaking.

"Question for you, Pete. I was watching SNL last night, and someone asked one of the characters if she'd ever given anyone 'head.' What does that even mean? Everyone in the audience seemed to think it was a big joke."

Pete's jaw dropped. He coughed, then choked.

Lex, some feet away but within hearing distance, slowed his paintbrush to a stop.

Clark waited a moment. "Well?" he demanded.

Pete frowned, looked around the room. "Clark, man, we can't discuss it, here." He tried to smother a giggle that seemed almost crazed, then turned abruptly serious again. "I have to get some paint thinner." Pete seemed agitated as he hurried out of the door and down the hall, favoring Lex with a parting, venomous glare. Lex watched his departure with a slight smile and narrowed eyes, then laid his brush down on the spattered newspaper.

"Guess I said something wrong," said Clark, half to himself. "Do you--"

"Need some help, Clark?" Lex interrupted, wandering over. "You missed a spot, here," he indicated, jabbing a finger toward the wall, then shaking his head in indulgent amusement. "And, you've dropped some paint on the floor."

"No, I'm cool," said Clark. "And, that was Pete who spilled the paint, not me. That's what he needs the thinner for."

Lex was regarding him quizzically, with sleek amusement. "Cool, or hot? Make up your mind."

"What do you--oh. Nothing." Clark murmured, confused, and oddly embarrassed. He seemed to be having trouble communicating today with both Pete and Lex, for some reason. But, Lex was making him feel--not uncomfortable, really--but strange, in a not altogether bad way.

"He wasn't able to answer your question," Lex observed, "But, this is what it means, Clark."

Before Clark could respond, Lex slipped to his knees and positioned himself directly in front of him. He breathed a soft breath on the front of Clark's paint-stained khakis, and rubbed his cheek against the surface of the cloth. Clark gulped and swallowed in astonishment, going so instantly hard that it was obvious. Lex took a deep breath, smiled his cool grin, and bent to mouth Clark's length through the fabric of the khakis, leaving only the slightest wet spot on the material.

Clark's gaze darkened; powerless to move, he gasped, and responded with a muffled moan as a jolt of pure pleasure speared through him. The paint brush slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor, leaving globs of paint on the newly-exposed original flooring. Lex didn't meet Clark's eyes as he handed him the brush and got to his feet.

"That's basically what it is; you get the idea. Usually with less clothing. Not sure of the origin of the term. Any more questions?"

Clark shook his head, unable to speak with his throat as dry as tinder. His heart was pounding; he yanked down the hem of his black t-shirt and wiped his shaking hands on the fabric. Lex, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to suppress a chuckle.

"You can see why Pete left in such a hurry. Hope he gets back soon with that turpentine." He picked up a roll of masking tape and began ripping off strips to place around the hall window.

Clark swiped a hand down the front of his slacks, and found himself a secluded corner in which to paint for a bit. And wait for the blush to fade from his cheeks.

II

All during lunch, Clark couldn't help stealing covert glances at Lex, who was fitting so easily, so comfortably, into the school group. Everyone, with the exception of Pete, seemed to like him. He didn't seem that out of place, as there were a few other college-age helpers there. In fact, Lex was sitting with them for lunch.

You couldn't call him clingy, Clark thought grumpily. He tried to feel glad that Lex was having a good time, not disappointed at being neglected himself. And, really, he felt too weird to be chagrined, anyway.

Lex was so cool, so attractive. Lex had...and Clark's hands trembled. He willed himself frantically to think of the unsexiest things possible to keep from getting hard again, but every time he looked at Lex, his heart did a tender sort of flip. But Lex didn't seem to sense Clark's furtive glances, didn't look his way, not once.

Clark felt as though everyone else was staring at him. That everyone knew what a stupid dork he was. Everyone else had probably understood the SNL skit with no help at all.

Within a minute or two, he felt completely ignored again. By everyone, but, most important, by Lex.

Clark laid his sandwich down on the wax paper it had been wrapped in. He wasn't very hungry. His stomach was still doing flip-flops, and he felt alternately hot and cold. Not sick, but...uneasy.

"Clark, are you okay?" asked Lana from across the table. She flashed him the expression of quizzical, amused concern she did so well.

"What's up, Clark?" Chloe mumbled, her mouth full. Sitting beside Clark, she nudged his elbow with hers. "Aren't you feeling well? You never have food left over."

"I can't eat any more," Clark smiled woefully and shrugged. "Guess I'm just a little tired." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Why did everyone else know more than he did?

"Well, we're nowhere near done, so don't get too tired, yet." Chloe warned.

"I'll take the rest of your chips," said Pete.

III

After the meal, Pete gravitated out to work on the outside of the house. Probably scared off for the rest of the day by my chosen topic of conversation this morning, Clark thought. Lex and a couple of the other kids had been working on painting around the windows that Lex had taped that morning, and Clark had shifted to work on the last remaining unpainted wall in the room.

He tried, and succeeded, for a time, to keep his mind off Lex. Of how close Lex was--not even halfway across the room. The gravelly softness of his voice as he conferred with his work partners. How gentle, yet strong, his mouth had felt through the cotton of Clark's slacks that morning...

With a muffled curse, Clark dived to catch the paintbrush, which had slipped from his hands, before it hit the floor. Lex glanced calmly in his direction, and returned to painting careful strokes along the window frame with the slim brush he held.

With a jolt, Clark noticed that the other kids had left. He was alone. With Lex.

"So," said Lex, "Just the two of us, now." He'd come to Clark's side while Clark was fumbling around. He looked at the floor, raising his eyebrows, and shook his head. "Some drop-cloths would be a wise investment for this group, for next time."

Clark nodded. Lex's voice was like silk, and Clark could almost taste the sweat and feel the warmth radiating from his body. He swallowed hard, and cast Lex a look of fevered desperation.

Lex looked him over with narrowed eyes, and gave him one of those indulgent small grins. He leaned in closer yet, and Clark could feel his breath as he whispered.

"Clark, your productivity has really slipped since this morning. If I suck you off, can we get back to work?"

Clark's breath hitched; biting his lips, he braced himself against the ledge with one hand as the floor shifted beneath him. Briefly, he squeezed his eyes shut, convinced the room was spinning. Then, he opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

"There's a lot of dust in here, Clark, and we've almost polished off the water supply. Close your mouth." Lex touched the tip of a finger to Clark's upper lip, and his own mouth quivered with the faintest of smiles. Clark, still flustered, couldn't quite read the veiled expression in his eyes. "Come on."

Lex took the paintbrush from Clark's hand and laid it across the top of the bucket next to his own. Clark just stared at him. "Come on," Lex repeated, putting a hand lightly on his arm.

Clark sighed, and followed as obediently as if he were Lex's lapdog.

Lex led him to the narrow pantry off the kitchen. It had been one of the first rooms painted, so it was closed off and deserted. Lit only by a narrow window high in the outside wall, it was well away from any of the restoration activity.

"No one will come in," said Lex, "but, just in case, there's a lock." Which he turned, and then tested the knob to make sure the door was fast. Clark watched, his chest rising, falling with ragged breaths.

"Lex," said Clark, surprised that his voice came out relatively normal instead of as a strangled squawk. "You don't--"

"Shhh," said Lex, laying a finger on Clark's lips. "Don't talk. It'll slow things down, and we do have to finish this today. The paint job, that is. Now..."

Lex pressed Clark back against the counter, raising his hands to steady the younger man's face. Clark's eyes fell shut, lips parting for the kiss, excitement coursing through his veins as Lex's practiced tongue plundered his mouth. Pulling back, Lex smoothed his hand through Clark's hair, and then down over the front of Clark's paint-stained, tented trousers. "Ah, to be fifteen again," he said softly.

"Sixteen," Clark corrected in an agitated whisper. "I'm sixteen, now."

"Sixteen, excuse me," Lex chuckled, lowering his eyes and letting his appreciative gaze roam down the front of Clark's body. "Anyway..."

Clark licked his lips, and tried to still hands, which were shaking almost as if he'd been chilled. Lex deftly unfastened the front of Clark's pants and freed his erection from the confines of his damp boxers. Clark wondered if he should do anything to help, but instead just waited, holding his breath, for Lex to say or do something.

Lex was just looking at him, then reached out a hand that seemed almost hesitant, which surprised Clark, because Lex was always so confident no matter what he did. When Lex touched him, his cock jerked, and an involuntary moan escaped his lips. Clark could feel the heat rising up his neck to his face once again, but, spellbound, he really didn't care. Lex slid slowly to his knees, with Clark watching as though in a trance.

"Nice," Lex murmured.

He eased the foreskin back with gentle fingers that Clark saw and felt tremble a littlehand, then pressed a light kiss to the moist tip, circled it with his tongue. HE then blew a cool breath, making Clark gasp, and fumble with one hand for the edge of the counter behind him.

"God, Lex," he groaned, twitching with excitement.

"Easy, Clark," Lex's voice was less than a whisper. "Just relax."

Clark tried to do as he was told. He was sure this must be wrong, but it felt far too good to even think of stopping it. He held his breath as Lex grasped him with both hands, angled his approach just right, and plunged smoothly down the shaft, almost to the bottom, so that Clark felt himself bump the back of Lex's throat. He gasped again. It felt great: tight, hot...Lex slid his mouth back up, then down again, and up, then began to suck, hard. Clark exhaled, his senses charged, almost electrified. His hand rose shakily to caress one side of Lex's smooth scalp, and he could no longer refrain from bucking into his friend's hot, agile mouth.

He would have liked to savor the myriad sensations all day, but it only took a couple of minutes for Lex to bring him off. Stars exploded behind Clark's tightly clenched eyelids as he surrendered himself to the throes of orgasm. Several minutes passed before his breathing had slowed enough for him to speak, and he was able to open his eyes. And, even then, he did no more than stare dazedly at Lex, who had closed his eyes, too, and was lounging back on his heels and looking--well--pleased and satisfied.

Lex wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt, and got to his feet. His eyes were warm, twinkling "There. Learned your lesson? Think you can be productive in other ways, too, now, for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Think so," Clark said huskily. "Thanks." How dumb did THAT sound, he wondered with a wince. But it didn't seem worth worrying about. He didn't meet Lex's eyes as he tucked in and zipped up.

Lex smiled. "Come here," he beckoned, and pulled Clark in for another kiss, sliding his tongue more gently now into the younger man's mouth. His arms encircled Clark in a lingering caress, and Clark, sated at last, relaxed in his arms. "This will have to count as our afternoon break."

Clark took a deep breath, relief and gratification coursing through him. Being able to taste himself on Lex's lips was ...well, indescribable. "Okay," he murmured in agreement, a little bit embarrassed, but with shining eyes. He'd alternately yearned for, and dreaded, his first time, and now, it had happened, so unexpectedly. And, it had been great. It might take him awhile to absorb this.

Lex seemed a little concerned as he looked up at Clark. "Sure you're okay?"

Clark nodded and smiled, then made a big effort to look sober, serious and as though he did this sort of thing every day.

"Good thing everyone else was outside," Lex observed blandly. "You're kind of loud when you come."

Clark gazed at Lex with dawning horror "God, Lex," he began. "I didn't...?"

"It's okay, Clark. No one heard." Lex's lips twitched, just a little.

Clark sighed with relief. He really would have died of embarrassment if anyone had. Could have gotten both of them, and especially Lex, in trouble, too.

This afternoon had made him see how important extracurricular activities could be to one's high school career. He felt relaxed, now, and very, very good. Still, glancing at his watch, he felt a whisper of guilt. They'd lost a good half hour of work time.

Lex was already out the door. Clark could hear water running at the kitchen sink.

Still, except for Clark's being dense, most of this had been Lex's fault, hadn't it?

IV

At the close of the afternoon, everyone was packing up and saying their thanks and goodbyes. The burnished sun was sinking into the surrounding dark forest as Clark wandered over to Lex's car, where his friend was changing out his paint-spattered, once-white t-shirt for a clean dress shirt. Clark couldn't help noting the sleek smoothness of Lex's bare chest as the switch was made. Lex turned to glance at him as he did up the buttons.

"Pretty good afternoon, Clark? We're all caught up to where your group wanted to be by the close of the day." He tossed his cooler and the soiled shirt into the trunk with casual grace, and slammed it shut. "Hmmm," he paused, thoughtful for a moment, "I could just pitch that shirt--but I think I'll keep it. Sentimental value." He smiled lightly, and Clark almost could have sworn that he followed it with a wink.

Clark willed himself not to blush again. He dropped his eyes. "Going out tonight?" he asked. He'd noticed that a suit hung in the back of Lex's car.

"Dinner in Metropolis. Business," said Lex.

"Oh." Clark let go of his half-formed hopes of the two of them spending the evening together. He bent to close the lid of the wooden box that held his paintbrush and tools, and then stood up again. Lex, coolly fastening the buttons on his cuffs, glanced at him again. He seemed to be waiting for him to speak, and Clark struggled briefly, trying to think of something appropriate to say.

"Lex," he began hesitantly, "It was cool. I liked it. Really. But, could you please not embarrass me again like you did this morning? It's kind of hard, being turned on in front of my whole class."

"Very hard, I suppose," Lex nodded, his tone tinged with amusement, and Clark bit his lips in embarrassment. "Then, next time, don't bring up inappropriate subjects at a school work project. Stick to more innocuous topics. You really did it to yourself. Follow your friend, Pete's, lead next time. Watch your mouth."

"Okay," Clark grumbled. What could he say, after all?

"So, do I get an invitation to the next class work session?" Lex was wondering.

"Sure, if you want," said Clark.

"Wouldn't miss it," said Lex, giving him one of those warm, sweeping, up-and-down glances. And, Clark, relieved, basked in the warm glow of the attention. When Lex ignored him for awhile, and then came back to noticing him again, it felt great. Sort of like the up-and-down, slow but steady swing of the Wheel of Fortune.

"Thanks for coming, Lex." He was sure his dopey affection must be obvious as hell. He had it bad.

"But, Clark," Lex murmured, dropping his voice and fixing him with a steady gaze, "I didn't."

And Clark couldn't hold back the rush of blood to his cheeks any longer.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. But when he noticed that Lex's eyes were twinkling again, he relaxed.

"Don't be. Just come over to the Manor next week and you can return the favor. We can spend a little more time at it, there and then. Can skip the painting, too, unless you're really feeling creative."

Clark chuckled. "I'd like that," he murmured, with a slow warm smile, noting that Lex seemed to swallow hard, catching his breath.

"Then, that's all that matters," said Lex. He lifted a slim finger to Clark's cheek for a final, brief caress. "Come on, get in. I'll drop you off at home on my way to Metropolis."

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