Spontaneity

by a campbell

Clark Kent/Lex Luthor

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Lex hadn’t planned this seduction of Clark. Hadn’t maneuvered, scripted him unbuttoned and unzipped here in the loft on a damp winter night despite the chill, though he’d dared to envision something similar in fantasy now and then.

Clark’s hands. Warm and big on his bare head, yet hesitant, gentle, as though afraid of hurting him.

Clark’s youth, his inexperience, nothing mattered. Just his own yearning to manage Clark’s jerks and thrusts under the touch of his hand, his mouth; to hear him cry out, the same young, desperate pants and moans, again and again. His longing to collapse with him in a sated heap on the scratchy, old sofa when it was over.

Lex always planned everything, considered costs, calculated the benefits, determined whether risks were worth taking, but tonight, he had to admit that sometimes things unplanned could be best of all.

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