Raiding the Refrigerator

by a campbell

Clark/Lex, implied Lex/Lana, R

Spoilers for Lexmas.

____________________

Lex knocked the jar of pimento-stuffed olives off the shelf and onto the floor as he groped for the strawberry jam in back of the refrigerator. His fingers folded around cold glass, and he was groping on the counter for the half-empty box of Ritz crackers when strong arms folded around his waist.

Startled, he bumped his head on the refrigerator door.

But despite being waylaid, attacked and beaten by individuals both known and unknown, countless times, he didn’t tense. He knew who held him now, and, with a deep sigh, relaxed back into the embrace.

"Hmm," he turned his head a little to the side, because Clark was on his knees behind him, nibbling his earlobe and blowing warm breath into the canal as he slid one big hand up under Lex’s white t-shirt and whispered something inaudible but delicious into his ear.

"Sorry about that," Clark murmured, massaging the sore spot on Lex’s head with his free palm.

"Midnight snack?" Lex knew Clark was raising an eyebrow, even if he couldn’t clearly see his face in the midnight gloom of the kitchen. He supposed he could open the refrigerator again and get some light. But he stayed still, and shrugged.

"Yeah. Lately, I seem to have more of an appetite."

"Mmm, I like the sound of that," Clark murmured with a low chuckle as his fingers gently tweaked a nipple, causing Lex to catch his breath and then exhale on a low hiss. "But really, it’s ‘cause you’re finally eating real food. No more mineral water, sushi and minuscule designer stuff that’s hardly a mouthful for a parakeet. Now it’s crackers, plenty of them." Lex chuckled as Clark gestured to the counter. "Jam, cold milk," Clark eyed the recently-filled glass on the counter. “Yeah. And I happen to remember that Lana makes a mean tuna casserole.”

Strange. He was here, yet he wasn’t here, experiencing all the sensations, yet looking on, removed. Part of him remembered his “real” life: rich (obscenely), powerful, and alone. The life he’d left only moments ago--hadn't he? While another Lex Luthor really did live and know this life of kids, car seats, mortgages, and utility bills. Warmth and love, his father nowhere to be seen, and seem to have lived it for the past seven years.

Clark finished digging in the Ritz box and bent in again to resume nuzzling Lex’s neck “Is she asleep?” He followed the words with a slow lick from Lex’s jugular up to his jaw.

“Yeah,” Lex said, his body responding with a powerful if reluctant shiver. Lana had crashed at least two hours ago, wrapped snugly in the soft, warm quilt that covered their bed, felled by the fatigue of late pregnancy into a deep, sound sleep. Lex knew; he’d bent to kiss her before coming downstairs, breathed in the scent of her freshly-shampooed hair, smoothed a gentle hand over the swell of her belly, smiling at the roll and thump beneath the blanket and his fingers of what had to be tiny limbs and feet.

“Well, then…” Clark’s questing fingers wandered down over his ribs, circling ever closer to the elastic waistband of Lex’s cotton pajama pants. “How about we go down to the rec room?”

Lex hesitated. He pried Clark’s fingers gently from his waist and stood up. Clark stood too, and turned him around, and Lex had no power to look away from the warmth and hunger in his gaze.

Clark smiled, like summer in the middle of winter. Lex swallowed, hard.

"There’s space down there now," Lex flinched dumbly at his comment. There was space. He’d brought all the old ornament boxes upstairs that evening in preparation for the outcome of tomorrow’s excursion. And this was all moving very fast.

He reached up to brush the cracker crumbs from Clark’s upper lip.

Clark grinned again and pulled him in for a kiss, warm, wet, deep.

Lex came back to himself after a moment or two. Or it could have been half an hour.

His own hand covered Clark’s, which hovered gently at his waist

You love me still, he thought, half in wonder. How can this be?

**

Downstairs were boxes and beanbag chairs, and the crib he somehow knew he was supposed to clean up and bring upstairs tomorrow before they left to get the tree. A big-screen television, a scratched and worn ping-pong table. And also a couch with a cheap slipcover thrown over it, onto which Clark flopped at once and motioned to him, nodding pointedly at the vacant spot beside him. Lex smiled down at him, indulgent and a bit bemused, and paused. "You can never deny me anything. You know that."

This new Clark was…so persuasive. So grown up.

So handsome. Lex stepped closer, then paused.

Reminded himself that he had a new life, now, with a wife and son depending on him. A life that required him to be responsible. However much he might still desire the man who stood before him.

But all that came out was:

"Lana. She mustn’t know."

Clark humorous, mildly exasperated. Speaking with exaggerated patience. "You know she knows. Knows about you and me. Has, for a long time. She also knows you love her, and that I’ll never steal you away. I can be content with this. And so can you."

He beckoned again and Lex sank down on the cushion beside him, again as though he had no willpower to resist.

"She’s happy. You’re good to her." Clark pulled him close with a low, sexy chuckle and caressed his cheek with a gentle hand, then warm, moist breath as he whispered in Lex’s ear:

"Lana and I share very well."

**

It was better than he ever remembered it being, here in the humble basement of this middle-class house, on a threadbare old sofa he and Clark had stumbled over baskets and boxes to reach. Lex smiled as Clark reached to finger the hem of his t-shirt, then eased it up and over his head with barely-concealed impatience, Gazing at his bare chest and body, eyes dark with admiration and desire, and pulled him in again.

Clark, sprawled naked over his body, panting and focused, toned muscles pressing him into the cushions. Big hands cradling his bare scalp, holding his head steady for kiss after kiss. Lush lips sucking on bare skin, throat, nipples. Then lower, on hip, balls, cock…

Lex’s mind drifted despite the appeal of his present surroundings, through memories of the past, and the crystal keenness of pleasure, not sure what was illusion and what reality, or what, precisely, had led them to this moment.

But he was sure of one thing.

He had everything he wanted now.

**

Light from a wan dawn was filtering in through the dusty cellar window when Lex opened his eyes. Clark was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He glanced at the ceiling at the thud of small feet on the hardwood floor upstairs and chuckled, then looked down at Lex with a smile before rising to his feet.

"My cue to be on my way. Think I can slip out without Alex catching me?"

"If you move fast," Lex was mildly amused that his voice came out in a dazed whisper.

"I don't know. He’s pretty sharp, just like his dad. Can’t get much of anything by him. Oh, well. Much as I’d like to stay awhile longer, I need to get back." Clark ran a palm through his mussed hair as he bent to glance in a small mirror that hung on the paneling. "Saturday is the only day Chloe and I can eat breakfast together, and I want to be there when she wakes up.”

"You and Chloe?" Lex murmured thickly, unable to wrest himself from the most exquisite post-orgasmic haze.

Clark zipped and buttoned his slacks and reached for his shoes. "You sound surprised," He sat back down on the couch beside Lex, drew close again and bent over him. "Why?"

"I’m not sure," said Lex, wondering just when and how Clark learned to sound quite that sexy. Clark smiled, leaned in, and Lex sat up on an elbow, arching up to take the kiss.

Clark broke the kiss and glided a palm over Lex’s bare scalp. "You used to be sure of everything, so long ago." He rose slowly and reached for his jacket.

Lex sank back on the cushion and let his eyes drift closed once again. "Not any more."

**

He lay quiet for a few moments after Clark’s departure.

He really needed to get up and get dressed, help fix breakfast for Alex and take him to get the tree. Maybe he’d tell Lana he’d been down here fixing the plumbing.

Maybe if he was lucky, she’d believe him.

Maybe one of these days he could begin to believe it all himself.

_________________

Feedback is welcome at amoss53@yahoo.com

Return to homepage