Patience

by a campbell

Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, R

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Sunkist spring afternoon, and so much better than driving alone, driving with Clark in t-shirt and jeans draped in his passenger seat, long legs crammed into the space below the dash. Clark, whose good country manners precluded complaints about lack of room for a big, tall person to stretch out and be comfortable.

As though on cue, Clark stretched as far as he could, and, with a muffled groan of frustration, spread his legs sideways instead. Lex’s glance lingered a moment, and he licked his lips with an uncomfortable chuckle. Eyes on the road, he told himself. No more accidents.

Though how could he fault the accident for bringing Clark into his life, he didn’t know.

Clark looked over at him with a big grin and a shrug and then back out the window, with a light drum of fingers on the armrest. Lex tried, but couldn’t draw his gaze from the veins on Clark’s hand, couldn’t stop from marveling at the size and strength of it.

Eyes on the pavement, he admonished himself again.

One more glance, though, at Clark’s crotch, while Clark couldn’t see. He tried not to picture the treasure the denim must conceal. He could almost imagine…

Lex turned back to stare resolutely at the pavement before them, thinning his lips.
And drove, wrestling with an ache, sharp and intense.

To see for real.

He longed to pull over, stop the car, coax Clark closer, whisper something to relax him as he eased the zipper down and reached through the damp boxer flap to feel warm, hard flesh swell and rise to meet his touch. Just before he leaned in to take a deep breath of the warm flesh of his neck. Nip, and then tongue the place where he’d bitten.

Clark’s flesh, better and more desirable than any other.

He wanted Clark’s cock in his hand, wanted him hard and aching. Wanted to stroke, to hear him moan, to see his eyes darken with desire. He wanted Clark’s soft, gravelly, needy moan, wanted him to shift in his grip as droplets of pre-come leaked down over his grasping hand.

Blow me, Lex...

How long would he have to wait?

Clark lifted a finger to trail along the passenger-side window and sighed. "So, how long before we get there?"

Lex swallowed, hard.

No double meaning there. Clark was just a kid.

Maybe he’d pull off the road right now. Skid off the highway through the gravel and into the pines to find Elysium.

Or maybe he’d wait. The last thing he wanted was to scare Clark away.

He could be patient.

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