Smallville drabble - TGIF!
Dec. 6th, 2002 11:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archiveOh my god, I feel like I’m on drugs. Oh, wait, I am.
I feel like happy fic today ::covers![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ethrosdemon’s eyes::.
The Interview
This is the fic. This is the graphic.
He’s not quite sure why he took his shoes off, but it’s his penthouse so he can do as he damn well pleases. If Lex wants to pace barefoot on hot coals in the kitchen, that’s his business. Besides, bare feet are the whole point of carpeting anyway, and maybe it was for the best that he not accompany Clark to his interview. He couldn’t pace barefoot outside the admissions office, but he could sit there and make the receptionist uncomfortable with his Glare of Doom as Clark has branded it.
He’s not above cheap thrills, which is potentially why he’s running his tie back and forth around the back of his neck. Friction is a cheap thrill, and so are ties. Friction from ties isn't half-bad either, and being tied up would be nice. Maybe if everything went well at the university, Clark will want to play this evening. If if if. Stupid fucking if. If Clark had just let Lex talk to his 'friends' they could already be playing with Lex's collection of Paul Smith ties. But no, because that's not how Clark wanted things to go, and Lex is really fucking trying here. It's exasperating. He almost wants to hang himself with his tie -- but Clark bought it for him, so maybe not.
Clark’s taking forever, though, and Lex’s feet are sliding back and forth with a bit too much friction. Lex likes his friction other ways. Not that he’s complaining about the rug burn on his spine, but perhaps they could have exercised more restraint. Thinking about it again, however, restraint isn’t really how Lex gets things done.
The waiting is killing him.
Lex has never tended to be anxious. Anxiety is for other people, and as such it’s something he can’t afford. Much like being nervous, or having nerves, or anything that might be construed as a nervous habit. Except, Lex thinks he is fidgeting because he’s most definitely pacing, and the pen he’s picked up keeps flying out of his fingers and landing on the floor, and his tie is now somewhere that is not around his neck.
His governess would have been appalled. All of them. By Luthor standards, Lex is thoroughly unpresentable. Shirt unbuttoned at the collar, barefoot, cufflinks resting on the coffee table, and his lip currently being worried to death by his teeth.
No one ever sees him this way. Thank a god he doesn't worship.
When the front door creaks open, Lex drops the pen again, and has to remember not to pounce. Seeing Clark crossing the threshold in a white dress shirt and tailored slacks doesn’t really do wonders for his self-control though. Nor does the very blank expression that Clark graces him with after he shuts the door behind him.
“So, how did it go?” Lex inquires, his voice not nearly as anxious as he feels – he hopes. It’s not even as though he’s the one applying to college, but god, it feels like it. If he has to proofread one more admissions essay, he’s going to buy Clark his own university.
“I think it went okay,” Clark begins, shrugging in the way that only Clark can. He’s going to be a teenager for the rest of his life with that sort of body language, not that Lex has problems with Clark’s body... anything.
“O. Kay.” This is not an acceptable answer. “And?”
“Lex,” Clark is moving entirely too slow for someone with speed like he claims not to have. Who taught him to stroll like that? Oh, Lex did. Well, as long as he’s strolling towards Lex it’s forgivable. “Where’s your tie?”
“Somewhere over there,” Lex motions haphazardly. He doesn’t care about the tie; he cares about the interview. Clark has been driving him crazy talking about the Met U Journalism program for months now, why is he acting so fucking blasé?
“Are you all right, Lex? You look tense.” Tense. Lex looks tense. He’s been waiting for three fucking hours for Clark to interview with the Head of Admissions, and he looks tense. Well, he fucking feels tense, so there.
“Maybe you need a massage or something,” Clark offers, placing exceptionally warm and large hands on Lex’s shoulders. They’re very heavy, as though Lex weren’t already carrying the weight of several thousand jobs and millions of dollars. Of course, those thousands of jobs and millions of people don’t have Clark’s fingertips, which are kneading Lex’s muscles nicely. Very nicely.
Wait. There’s supposed to be a conversation happening here. “The interview. I want to talk about your interview.”
“Yes, but look at you, your face is tight, and your shoulders – wow, you’re really tight.” At any other time, Lex might take that as a complement. Not now, this is nothing to be taken lightly.
“Hmm. Wait. Stop. Stop.” Why is Clark smirking that way? Who taught him to do that – oh. He’s teasing Lex. Lex is going to kill him.
“You really want me to stop, Lex?” Never, but that’s not the point.
“No. Yes. Stop. Do not move one body part one fraction of an inch on my body until you tell me how your interview went.” That devious little shit, Lex says he can’t touch him, so Clark starts touching himself. Clark looks better without a tie anyway, but he’s unbuttoning his shirt – that’s wrong. Actually, that’s smart. Of course the interview went well. Clark is brilliant. Okay, maybe not brilliant, but he’s hot and looks alone should get him anywhere worth going.
“I told you it was okay.”
“’O’ and ‘K’ are letters. They are not an answer.”
“Do you really want to talk about this now?” No, not really, not considering that Clark has unbuttoned his shirt all the way to his navel, and god, Lex feels dizzy. It must be from all the pacing. His balance is off.
“No. Yes. Yes, damnit, tell me, now.” He knows he sounds petulant, but his resolve isn’t going to last much longer. Of course, only a very stupid man would stop Clark from unfastening his belt. And dropping it on the floor, and there’s a shirt following it. White is a good color on the carpet.
There’s a lot of bare skin in front of Lex right now. Something is supposed to be happening; Lex hopes its sex.
“They said they look forward to seeing me next year.”
“Who’s looking forward to what?” Lex has no idea what Clark’s talking about. He doesn’t care. There’s a half-naked Clark in front of him. Carnivale could come parading through the penthouse right now, and Lex wouldn’t care.
“The admissions people, they said it was all a matter of paperwork now, and they looked forward to seeing me next year.”
“Next year? Oh, you mean – you got in,” a pause. “You couldn’t have just said that when you came in?”
“I thought you were enjoying the show.” Clark is smiling – smirking. And he’s stopped undressing, this is completely unacceptable. Why is he batting Lex’s hands away?
“I was – I am. Who taught you how to tease this way?” Clark’s obviously been practicing. Lex would never treat him this way.
“Ah, see, well I know this guy...”
“A guy. I don’t know, he sounds shady.”
“He is. That’s why he’s the best.” The best. Really? Lex has always thought of himself as ‘The Greatest’ but maybe he’s been reading too much Greek history.
“The best at what?”
“Everything.” Everything. Now that's more like it. Or Clark unbuttoning his trousers is more like it. Lex can't tell anymore. He has no idea what they're talking about; he's just trying to get Clark naked. He'll tell him whatever he wants to hear at this point.
“Everything. Maybe I should judge for myself. Can you get me an interview with this man?"
"Well, okay, but you have to interview with me first."
"I see, and what should I bring to my interview with you?"
"Just you. Only with fewer clothes."
-finis-
I feel like happy fic today ::covers
ethrosdemon’s eyes::. The Interview
This is the fic. This is the graphic.
He’s not quite sure why he took his shoes off, but it’s his penthouse so he can do as he damn well pleases. If Lex wants to pace barefoot on hot coals in the kitchen, that’s his business. Besides, bare feet are the whole point of carpeting anyway, and maybe it was for the best that he not accompany Clark to his interview. He couldn’t pace barefoot outside the admissions office, but he could sit there and make the receptionist uncomfortable with his Glare of Doom as Clark has branded it.
He’s not above cheap thrills, which is potentially why he’s running his tie back and forth around the back of his neck. Friction is a cheap thrill, and so are ties. Friction from ties isn't half-bad either, and being tied up would be nice. Maybe if everything went well at the university, Clark will want to play this evening. If if if. Stupid fucking if. If Clark had just let Lex talk to his 'friends' they could already be playing with Lex's collection of Paul Smith ties. But no, because that's not how Clark wanted things to go, and Lex is really fucking trying here. It's exasperating. He almost wants to hang himself with his tie -- but Clark bought it for him, so maybe not.
Clark’s taking forever, though, and Lex’s feet are sliding back and forth with a bit too much friction. Lex likes his friction other ways. Not that he’s complaining about the rug burn on his spine, but perhaps they could have exercised more restraint. Thinking about it again, however, restraint isn’t really how Lex gets things done.
The waiting is killing him.
Lex has never tended to be anxious. Anxiety is for other people, and as such it’s something he can’t afford. Much like being nervous, or having nerves, or anything that might be construed as a nervous habit. Except, Lex thinks he is fidgeting because he’s most definitely pacing, and the pen he’s picked up keeps flying out of his fingers and landing on the floor, and his tie is now somewhere that is not around his neck.
His governess would have been appalled. All of them. By Luthor standards, Lex is thoroughly unpresentable. Shirt unbuttoned at the collar, barefoot, cufflinks resting on the coffee table, and his lip currently being worried to death by his teeth.
No one ever sees him this way. Thank a god he doesn't worship.
When the front door creaks open, Lex drops the pen again, and has to remember not to pounce. Seeing Clark crossing the threshold in a white dress shirt and tailored slacks doesn’t really do wonders for his self-control though. Nor does the very blank expression that Clark graces him with after he shuts the door behind him.
“So, how did it go?” Lex inquires, his voice not nearly as anxious as he feels – he hopes. It’s not even as though he’s the one applying to college, but god, it feels like it. If he has to proofread one more admissions essay, he’s going to buy Clark his own university.
“I think it went okay,” Clark begins, shrugging in the way that only Clark can. He’s going to be a teenager for the rest of his life with that sort of body language, not that Lex has problems with Clark’s body... anything.
“O. Kay.” This is not an acceptable answer. “And?”
“Lex,” Clark is moving entirely too slow for someone with speed like he claims not to have. Who taught him to stroll like that? Oh, Lex did. Well, as long as he’s strolling towards Lex it’s forgivable. “Where’s your tie?”
“Somewhere over there,” Lex motions haphazardly. He doesn’t care about the tie; he cares about the interview. Clark has been driving him crazy talking about the Met U Journalism program for months now, why is he acting so fucking blasé?
“Are you all right, Lex? You look tense.” Tense. Lex looks tense. He’s been waiting for three fucking hours for Clark to interview with the Head of Admissions, and he looks tense. Well, he fucking feels tense, so there.
“Maybe you need a massage or something,” Clark offers, placing exceptionally warm and large hands on Lex’s shoulders. They’re very heavy, as though Lex weren’t already carrying the weight of several thousand jobs and millions of dollars. Of course, those thousands of jobs and millions of people don’t have Clark’s fingertips, which are kneading Lex’s muscles nicely. Very nicely.
Wait. There’s supposed to be a conversation happening here. “The interview. I want to talk about your interview.”
“Yes, but look at you, your face is tight, and your shoulders – wow, you’re really tight.” At any other time, Lex might take that as a complement. Not now, this is nothing to be taken lightly.
“Hmm. Wait. Stop. Stop.” Why is Clark smirking that way? Who taught him to do that – oh. He’s teasing Lex. Lex is going to kill him.
“You really want me to stop, Lex?” Never, but that’s not the point.
“No. Yes. Stop. Do not move one body part one fraction of an inch on my body until you tell me how your interview went.” That devious little shit, Lex says he can’t touch him, so Clark starts touching himself. Clark looks better without a tie anyway, but he’s unbuttoning his shirt – that’s wrong. Actually, that’s smart. Of course the interview went well. Clark is brilliant. Okay, maybe not brilliant, but he’s hot and looks alone should get him anywhere worth going.
“I told you it was okay.”
“’O’ and ‘K’ are letters. They are not an answer.”
“Do you really want to talk about this now?” No, not really, not considering that Clark has unbuttoned his shirt all the way to his navel, and god, Lex feels dizzy. It must be from all the pacing. His balance is off.
“No. Yes. Yes, damnit, tell me, now.” He knows he sounds petulant, but his resolve isn’t going to last much longer. Of course, only a very stupid man would stop Clark from unfastening his belt. And dropping it on the floor, and there’s a shirt following it. White is a good color on the carpet.
There’s a lot of bare skin in front of Lex right now. Something is supposed to be happening; Lex hopes its sex.
“They said they look forward to seeing me next year.”
“Who’s looking forward to what?” Lex has no idea what Clark’s talking about. He doesn’t care. There’s a half-naked Clark in front of him. Carnivale could come parading through the penthouse right now, and Lex wouldn’t care.
“The admissions people, they said it was all a matter of paperwork now, and they looked forward to seeing me next year.”
“Next year? Oh, you mean – you got in,” a pause. “You couldn’t have just said that when you came in?”
“I thought you were enjoying the show.” Clark is smiling – smirking. And he’s stopped undressing, this is completely unacceptable. Why is he batting Lex’s hands away?
“I was – I am. Who taught you how to tease this way?” Clark’s obviously been practicing. Lex would never treat him this way.
“Ah, see, well I know this guy...”
“A guy. I don’t know, he sounds shady.”
“He is. That’s why he’s the best.” The best. Really? Lex has always thought of himself as ‘The Greatest’ but maybe he’s been reading too much Greek history.
“The best at what?”
“Everything.” Everything. Now that's more like it. Or Clark unbuttoning his trousers is more like it. Lex can't tell anymore. He has no idea what they're talking about; he's just trying to get Clark naked. He'll tell him whatever he wants to hear at this point.
“Everything. Maybe I should judge for myself. Can you get me an interview with this man?"
"Well, okay, but you have to interview with me first."
"I see, and what should I bring to my interview with you?"
"Just you. Only with fewer clothes."
-finis-
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-12-07 10:02 pm (UTC)Plus, nervous!Lex and teasing!Clark. Perfect thing to read on a Sunday arvo.
no subject
Date: 2002-12-08 01:51 pm (UTC)Ties are your friends. Plus, cheaper than handcuffs!
no subject
Date: 2002-12-08 06:13 pm (UTC)