it's the end of the world as we know it!
Jun. 6th, 2002 11:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archive...and i need a drink.
cat, you evil (expletive) (expletive) (expletive) this is all *your* doing. I'd never have succumbed if you hadn't been asking me for *months*. This better make you happy.
The same to you two Kiwi (expletive).
to everyone else, this is the one and only time this year that i will write smut (expletive) (expletive). bear witness. it's some scary (expletive) (expletive).
The Unexpected VI (WIP)
~ * ~
~ * ~
Lex believes that ‘close’ counts in hand grenades and horseshoes, otherwise it’s a waste of time. It’s a pointless runner-up when no one ever remembers who comes in second place, and Lex has never lost well.
He’s never lost when it counted.
Clark counts to Lex. Clark *matters*.
There aren’t many things that Lex is willing to say that about. So it makes sense that Lex will not reconcile himself to being second to anyone when it comes to Clark. Lex wants it all. Everything. Anything. He will be all of Clark’s firsts if he has his way: first boyfriend, first relationship, first lover. First and last if he plays his cards right.
Of course, Lex has never lost at cards either.
He’s not going to start now. Not even for Clark.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Clark?”
“I’ve played cards before.” But never with Lex.
“Some how I don’t think you’ve played cards like this.”
“I’ve played Solitaire,” and so has Lex, on his computer.
“So have I, Clark, but you said you wanted to play poker.”
“Strip poker.”
Strip poker. He must be joking.
“Clark, did you say strip poker?”
He did say it; Lex knows he said it. Lex can tell by the enormous grin that’s making him want to reach for his Ray-Bans. Inside the castle. In the no-Luthor-ever-fought-in-one war room.
“You want to play strip poker, Clark? With me?”
“Well, that *is* the idea.”
“Okay, before we go any further, you do understand that in strip poker you have to actually take *off* your clothes?”
“Well, I didn’t think it was called strip poker because you were drawing stripes on the wall if that’s what you mean.”
Sarcastic Clark. Oh fuck yes. All right if Clark wants to play with the big kids, Lex is not going to be the one to deny him. Of course not.
“All right, I’ll get the cards.”
“No, that’s all right, I brought my own.” Clark brought his own deck. Which means he’s been planning this, which means that Clark is trying to get Lex *naked*.
Lex must’ve fallen and hit his head. He’s hallucinating. He’s praying no one comes to find him anytime soon.
“You don’t trust my deck?”
A long look from Clark and, “your deck is fine. I just prefer my own on this occasion,” and Lex swears that Clark is toying with him. He has to be. That sneaky alien bastard. Between the deck metaphor and that look, there’s only one way that this game is going to end. With lots of nudity.
Maybe losing isn’t such a bad thing, just this one time.
“If it’s your deck, I deal.”
“Okay.” And Lex has never found shuffling the deck to be a particularly erotic experience, but there’s a first time for everything, especially with the way that Clark is staring at his hands and licking his lips. His very full, red lips.
Jesus.
“Alright, farmboy, how do you want it?”
And that blush is just way too good, too perfect. Oh God, Lex is going to enjoy tonight.
“How do I want what?” Oh, the possibilities are endless with this one.
“How do you want your poker? Five card, seven card, stud, draw, Dakota, Pass the Trash, Jack the Shifter, Wall Street, Psycho? What?”
“Psycho what?”
“It’s a type of poker, Clark.”
“Oh. I’ve never heard of it.”
“I’m not surprised, I doubt it gets played much at your mother’s bridge club.”
A dirty look from Clark and Lex didn’t mean that crudely.
“I like your mom, Clark. I was just saying.”
“I know. I just, I know I’m not all urban-hip but…”
“You’re fine. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
Oh, Jesus, Lex is so sad. He’s reassuring his gay alien lover that it’s okay to be a hick. Not that it’s okay to be an alien. Only Lex.
“I guess we can play it however you want,” and Lex *wants* it to be a naked Clark wrapped in 52-Pickup to be honest. However, if he has to go through all the motions first, then so be it.
“Five card stud it is.”
“Okay, how does that work?”
“Clark, you *do* know how poker works, right?”
“Of course I do. You try to get four of a kind or a royal flush.”
“If you get four of a kind or a royal flush in five-card stud, you’re cheating, and someone chops off your fingers.” Brutal, but honest, Lex has seen it done.
“*Lex*.”
“I’m just telling it to you like it is, honesty is important.”
Yeah, and Lex has just lost all semblance of form and tact where Clark is concerned, but he wanted someone he could be honest with. Clark should appreciate that.
“You’re just trying to scare me.”
“I’m trying to scare you because then you won’t run around saving the town half-wits and instead you’ll drive me crazy with your guilt complex? I don’t think so.”
“That’s not funny, you know.”
“A little humor never hurt anyone. I’m just trying to keep you honest.” One of them has to be.
“I thought that was supposed to work the other way around?”
“I’m sure you’ll make me honest, Clark. One day.”
A grin, and Lex can’t help leaning forward just that little bit, because Clark is getting good at taking hints. One kiss, just a quick one that ends up not being quick at all. A kiss that ends up with Clark cupping the back of Lex’s head and pulling him forward, just that little bit that puts Lex off balance, that makes him reach forward and grab Clark’s bicep for support.
Clark’s very taunt bicep.
Just one kiss that’s wet and hard and, god, Clark is a fast learner. And Lex just has to pull away that bit, so he can nuzzle Clark’s neck and inhale that scent that’s so good. So clean, like hope and innocence and fresh Egyptian cotton sheets. Quick nip at Clark’s earlobe because Clark is still learning and so, yeah, poker.
“Five-card stud. It’s nice and simple. You get five cards and you hope for the best.”
Hope for the best. Or the least, which in this case would ensure nakedness.
“Alright, Farmer Kent, do you want to make this a betting thing or is it clothing only?”
“I don’t really have any money.”
But Clark has something far far better.
“Clothes only it is,” and as he deals, Lex notices that these cards are a bit slicker than he’s used to, but he puts that down to their newness. Their virginal qualities, and it’s times like these that Lex wouldn’t mind a little see-through vision of his own.
Just a little sneak peak at what he’s going to win in a few hands.
But not with a hand like this. Still, he’s won on less.
“So, are you going to call, or are you out?”
“Out where?”
“I mean are you going to put your cards down or are you folding?”
“Oh, I’m – I’m in.”
“Alright, show me what you’ve got.”
And Clark has got, well. He’s got something. Un fucking real.
“Three of a kind?”
“Yeah.”
Beginners luck. Nothing else for it, and Lex can make this go on all night if he has to. He’s dressed for it. Shirt, pants, watch, belt.
“You’re only taking off the belt? But I thought --”
“Clark, you don’t get to choose what comes off in strip poker.”
“But – but...”
“Ready for another hand?”
“But.”
And Lex can say more with one eyebrow than most people can say in twenty minutes.
“Yeah, okay.”
Another deal of the deck, and this is much more Lex’s speed. The last time he had a hand like this he won a stripper and sixteen thousand Hong Kong dollars. Two eights, and Lex can’t help but be glad that Clark knows nothing about accessories, especially considering that he took off his boots and socks by the front door.
Nothing like a little luck to expedite the matter.
“Okay, Lex. Are you in?”
Well, look who’s picking up the lingo like a rounder.
“Yeah, read’em and weep.” Or not. “A pair of queens. Clark, you have a pair of queens?”
And Lex is not falling for that grin. He’s not, he’s being completely taken for a ride. Goddamnit. It’s taking every ounce of strength he has left to remember that he *wants* to lose to Clark.
“Jesus, Clark, is this deck marked?” A decidedly non-erotic look is being shot at Lex and he was just *asking*.
“All right. Fine,” and Lex can play dirty too.
“Cufflinks?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of hard to fasten my shirt without them.”
“*Lex*.”
“Yeah, Clark?”
“Can’t you take off something *else*?”
“Well, I could, but I haven’t lost another hand yet, now have I?”
“But your…”
“I’m going to lose another hand, Clark?”
Busted.
“ I’m going to lose all my hands, aren’t I?” And Clark’s silence is all that Lex needs to know the truth.
“You stacked the deck, didn’t you?”
“Yes, no. I just…”
Curiosity is driving Lex crazy and, “why’d you do that?”
“Because you were being so, so virginal!” and Lex would say something but he’s just too shocked to form words.
Lex Luthor, virginal?
Oh god, that’s good, that’s brilliant. That’s past insanity and bordering on the ridiculous. Lex can barely control himself. Lex doesn’t even remember being a virgin. *Ever*. The idea alone would cause mass rioting at every club in Gotham, Metropolis and Center City.
“Well, that’s certainly one way to look at it.” God, Clark’s petulance can only aid his cause and it’s all too absurd to be possible. Lex can’t help but laugh. And laugh more. And he can see himself falling off the sofa very very soon.
Or he would be falling off if he wasn’t suddenly being pinned to the back of said sofa by a very irate alien farmboy.
“You’ve been teasing me for months, Lex.”
Oh, god, Lex is never going to stop laughing now.
“I’ve been trying to,” wheeze, “*seduce* you for months, Clark.”
A moment of complete nonplussed bewilderment, wherein Lex tries to catch his breath, and Clark looks so fuckable when he’s confused.
“Then why haven’t you done anything about it?”
“Because I wanted it to be your decision.”
“Oh.”
Oh, yeah. About that. And Lex was going to say something else but he can’t really remember what is it now because Clark is kissing him, touching him and entwining their fingers in sea knots. Lex didn’t know that Clark had kinks, but he’s all for them. How else to explain Clark straddling Lex like a gymnast and pinning Lex’s hands above his head?
Loose hold right around his wrists, and it’s nothing that Lex couldn’t get out of if he really wanted to, but what would be the point in that?
There isn’t one.
Not a good one, not when Lex has got Clark spread out on top of him like jam on a piece of bread, and if Lex can just move right *there* then, yeah. He’s got Clark right where he wants him. Sandwiched between his legs with Clark’s cock right against his thigh, hard and insistent and, Jesus, Clark’s hot. Metaphorically, literally, every which way including loose. Maybe all the aliens from wherever Clark comes from are hot like this because it feels like Clark’s cock is burning a hole in Lex’s pants and he. doesn’t. care.
Lex can’t bring himself to do anything but thrust up against the weight of Clark’s body. Guttural moan from someone who is decided *not* Lex and, God, so hot, and Clark is stretching out now. Cocooning Lex between the leather sofa and flannel covered alien, and the back of Lex’s head is sticking to the sofa. He’s going to melt into the buttercream leather and the rest of Lex doesn’t *care*.
Lex’s wrists are twisting in Clark’s grasp but his legs are functioning independently. Rubbing and stretching against Clark and trying to wrap *around* him.
Another kiss and it’s not hard, not fast. Nothing childish or rash, but practiced and hoped for and full of longing and want. It’s not any of the things that Lex has come to expect from Clark but it’s everything that he’s needed. It’s the sort of place that Lex could happily spend the rest of his non-domesticated days.
Sharp nip now at Lex’s earlobe and an instantaneous jerk against Clark because, fuck, Lex is really thinking that he wants his hands back *now*.
That he wants to touch Clark. His hair, his cheekbones, his sin-inspired mouth that is begging to be wrapped around Lex’s fingers. Around his cock.
Lex wants Clark naked. Now.
He wants Clark bare and sweating and begging in his bed, in his shower, on the fucking *playground*. He wants to rub his nose along the downy hairs that he thinks run between Clark’s navel and his cock and spread Clark open until he’s begging and whimpering and all for him.
All for Lex.
In his mind’s eye Lex takes Clark slow and aching on his back and hard and fast on his knees.
In his mind Lex has fucked Clark a thousand times and made love to him in every room in the castle at least twice. He’s kissed Clark’s lips until they’ve bled and fucked his mouth until they were both raw.
None of his dreams have met up with his reality. They’ve never even come close.
Clark whimpering in Lex’s ear, and just *grinding* his cock against Lex’s thigh like he’s a scratching post, and friction is this brilliant thing that should be sold over the counter.
Lex is going to make *billions*.
Clark plastering wet kisses all over Lex’s face now and Clark has this soft girlish mouth which occasionally eclipses his masculinity, but right now it’s doing nothing but accentuating how very male Clark is. Sharp teeth nipping at Lex’s jawline and Clark taking his time to pull back and stare into slate eyes.
Perspiration and damp hair sticking to Clark’s brow and swollen lips just begging for Lex’s mouth. For his tongue.
Lex could go cross-eyed as he watches Clark lean down and lick at his upper lip. At that scar that has the express route right to his cock and if he wasn’t achingly hard before, he certainly is now.
Hard to the point of pain. Serious pain. To the point where rocking against Clark and coming in his pants really isn’t a half bad idea. It actually has quite a bit of merit, and god, Clark’s sucking on his neck. Nuzzling at the opening of Lex’s shirt and Clark’s mouth is this holy thing.
This religious artifact.
Clark is this national treasure and Lex wants to put a collar on him and issue a public statement declaring his ownership.
This Alien Belongs to Lex Luthor.
Lex wants Clark every which way he can get him which would be really good if he could have his hands back. If he could just *touch* Clark, but Clark isn’t listening, not paying attention and his hips are pistoning like a train engine. Lex doesn’t remember high school boys having longevity like this and chalks it up to that alien *whatever*. Thrust after thrust, and god, too many fucking clothes getting in the way.
“*Clark*.”
“Lex, I – I need,” freedom for Lex’s hands as Clark reaches down to stroke Lex’s face and Lex understands. Understands too well.
“It’s okay.” Lex grabs at the first thing he can get his hands on and, “just c’mon, take this off.”
First time in several minutes that Lex has bothered to look down and see that, hey, he’s covered with cards. 52-Pickup was never this much fun alone; and Lex is not obsessed with the card analogies because Clark is unbuttoning his shirt and Lex has to prop himself on his elbows and watch.
Has to see this.
Quick flash of flannel and Jesus, just when Lex thinks he’s forgotten about this alien part, Clark does something like that. Beautiful gorgeous alien farmboy practically naked and, “God, Clark.”
No shirt, no shoes, definitely getting serviced. One hand reaching out for Clark’s jeans, and not again with the pinning thing.
Hard grind and that’s someone who *is* Lex groaning.
“*Clark.*”
“I want you to – to.”
“Yeah, I know, but I need my hands back, just for a minute.”
And okay, so maybe he doesn’t need his hands to take off his clothes, and it’s not like he doesn’t have fifty other shirts just like that one.
Lex has been pinned in worse places and at least the cufflinks came off earlier.
Lex didn’t think that it was possible for Clark to feel this good, but. Fuck.
Clark’s mouth is opening up against Lex’s lips again and this kiss is slow and tender and very very right.
Clark is this edible *thing*, like milk and cookies and raw need. A quick bite of Lex’s lower lip and, yeah, he can let Clark keep control. At least for right now. As long as it ensures that Clark keeps sliding his tongue in Lex’s mouth with that slow insinuation of what he’s really after. As long as Clark keeps pressed against Lex like a vice and, yeah, Clark wants this. Lex can tell. He can smell it through denim and gabardine and sweat and he’s definitely not adverse to the idea himself.
Clark wants to fuck Lex. Or maybe he wants Lex to fuck him. Lex is game either way.
Especially if Clark keeps thrusting his hips against Lex’s stomach that way and murmuring against his mouth.
Hands scrabbling at the waistband of his pants and yeah, “*Fuck*, Clark.”
“ Lex. Lex, I need – I need *you*.”
“I know, just,” and Lex is trying to help Clark but maybe four hands are too many because Lex can’t remember ever having this much trouble taking off his pants in his *life*.
“*Lex*.”
“Jesus, Clark!” Lex knows he was wearing pants a moment ago because the leather sofa is cold against his bare skin, but *God*.
None of it mattering right now because Clark is *staring* and it’s lighting up everything like a fire hazard. Lex has to reach out and touch him. Sharp breaths and fluttering muscles and Lex’s fingers are trailing up Clark’s chest and branding the feel in his brain. Sweat and skin and innocence, all of it seeping out of Clark like excess pheromones.
Lex is completely transfixed.
Watching Clark watching him. Lex craning his neck to watch Clark lean down and *nuzzle* his neck. Lex’s hands can’t stop touching Clark, his back, his shoulders, his hair. Reactionary thrust against Clark’s erection, which for some godawful reason is still being keep in his jeans.
Something Lex has to fix, as soon as he can think.
Nothing better in this entire world than Clark Kent sucking at Lex’s collarbone and a sharp thrust that goes *nowhere* with an alien mounted on top of Lex.
Low moan from somewhere and Clark is shifting, moving, and Lex can feel his legs being spread. Hot breath against wet boxer-briefs and Lex’s body is just one enormous twitch right now.
“Oh god. *Lex.*”
Lex’s name being said in this painful, needy way, and his first instinct is to thrust upwards. Except that Clark’s hands are in the way and Lex’s boxer are in the way and then there’s nothing. Nothing but nakedness and air and Clark.
Clark with his hazel eyes that are practically black and “God!” Clark likes the nuzzling thing. He likes the touching thing. Warm skin and wet mouth rubbing along Lex’s shaft and if this ever stops Lex is going to die.
Lex’s hands are on Clark’s face, in his hair, and “Clark, stop teasing, just…” And there’s that split second between when Lex blinks and Clark moves, and god, *fast* alien.
Clark kneeling between Lex’s legs and Lex’s eyes are magnetized. He’s watching Clark licking and sucking his own fingers like they’re coated in chocolate; and if this is what Clark does by himself, Lex is installing webcams in the Kent household.
One by one, Lex watches as Clark’s fingers slide in and out with an audible ‘smack,’ and Lex is *not* whimpering. Of course he wasn’t was planning on that doing *to* Clark at some point either, but watching it is *way* better; and Lex is so engrossed in Clark’s mouth that watching him move is this otherworldly thing. Like a drug. Like an acid trip where he meets up with alternate universe versions of himself and watches as they all get off on watching Clark Kent suck his fingers. His long fingers. And *fuck*.
Wet hand around his cock and Clark’s wet tongue in Lex’s mouth, and Lex is going to fuck Clark until his knees give out. He’s going to fuck Clark’s hand until his brain shorts out and his spine collapses.
Mouth and hand, hand and mouth, mouth and hand both wrapped around Lex’s cock and he can feel himself losing consciousness. Loud groan and Lex can hear himself babbling.
Clark’s beautiful mouth wrapped around Lex’s cock like vacuum suction, and Lex has to prop himself up, has to look and see. Lex has to touch Clark and grab his hair, and Jesus, Clark is just moving up and down and staring at him like something that will disappear if he blinks.
God, it’s good, and wet, and Clark has no idea what he’s doing and Lex does *not* care. Not with Clark stroking and sucking like he’s trying to swallow Lex *whole*. Clark has his free hand on Lex’s hip, pulling, pushing and Lex has only dreamed about this forever, and he’s fucking Clark’s *mouth*.
Clark’s sweet mouth with lips the color of pink bubble gum and Cosmopolitan martinis and, he can hear Clark, god, trying to swallow him. Lex can hear the slurping and inhaling and oh, fuck, yes.
Wet fingers fondling and hefting his balls before that wet hand just slides back, back to that soft, smooth stretch of skin and all it takes it one small tease. Just the tickle of one finger and Lex can feel it all in the pipeline.
“*Clark.*” Lex has to yank at that stubborn head because Clark doesn’t know. Completely messy, inexpert - wonderful – blowjob and Lex just, has to *pull* Clark up to his knees. Rocketing forward to meet Clark’s mouth just as he comes, and yeah.
Lex is going to have this sofa bronzed.
Hard, forceful kiss and Lex is sucking on Clark’s tongue. Tasting himself the way Clark does, the way Clark *has*.
Pulls back just long enough to suck on his own fingers and watch Clark’s eyes dilate as he begins to understand. Comprehension is this great thing, and Clark’s hands ghosting over Lex’s scalp and his shoulders as Lex deftly unzips Clark’s traitorous Levis and just pays no heed to the boxers in his way.
Quick kiss and Lex’s hand sliding through the opening, and Clark’s cock is hot and weeping. And Lex wants to *see*. Pre-come leaking all over the head and Lex can feel the damp wetness that the boxers absorbed catching against the back of his hand. And Clark is just so fucking warm and it’s like Lex is holding an iron in his grasp.
One stroke, two, and Lex rubs the head with the pad of his thumb. Clark’s hands on his shoulders now, almost too hard, and his hips are thrusting against Lex’s hand. Clark gasping into Lex’s mouth now and it won’t take long. Not this time around, the next three or four should last longer.
Eyes wide open and Lex just has to watch. Clark panting into the nape of Lex’s neck now, and it’s okay.
“Clark, it’s okay. C’mon.”
And when Clark howls Lex’s name, it’s like something cracks inside of Lex and gets knocked free. Lex can feel it floating inside him. He can feel Clark rushing in his veins. In his mind. Coursing through his body and knocking over roadblocks and places marked ‘do not enter.’
It’s something that could be considering terrifying if Lex wasn’t ready for a change.
-finis-
cat, you evil (expletive) (expletive) (expletive) this is all *your* doing. I'd never have succumbed if you hadn't been asking me for *months*. This better make you happy.
The same to you two Kiwi (expletive).
to everyone else, this is the one and only time this year that i will write smut (expletive) (expletive). bear witness. it's some scary (expletive) (expletive).
The Unexpected VI (WIP)
~ * ~
~ * ~
Lex believes that ‘close’ counts in hand grenades and horseshoes, otherwise it’s a waste of time. It’s a pointless runner-up when no one ever remembers who comes in second place, and Lex has never lost well.
He’s never lost when it counted.
Clark counts to Lex. Clark *matters*.
There aren’t many things that Lex is willing to say that about. So it makes sense that Lex will not reconcile himself to being second to anyone when it comes to Clark. Lex wants it all. Everything. Anything. He will be all of Clark’s firsts if he has his way: first boyfriend, first relationship, first lover. First and last if he plays his cards right.
Of course, Lex has never lost at cards either.
He’s not going to start now. Not even for Clark.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Clark?”
“I’ve played cards before.” But never with Lex.
“Some how I don’t think you’ve played cards like this.”
“I’ve played Solitaire,” and so has Lex, on his computer.
“So have I, Clark, but you said you wanted to play poker.”
“Strip poker.”
Strip poker. He must be joking.
“Clark, did you say strip poker?”
He did say it; Lex knows he said it. Lex can tell by the enormous grin that’s making him want to reach for his Ray-Bans. Inside the castle. In the no-Luthor-ever-fought-in-one war room.
“You want to play strip poker, Clark? With me?”
“Well, that *is* the idea.”
“Okay, before we go any further, you do understand that in strip poker you have to actually take *off* your clothes?”
“Well, I didn’t think it was called strip poker because you were drawing stripes on the wall if that’s what you mean.”
Sarcastic Clark. Oh fuck yes. All right if Clark wants to play with the big kids, Lex is not going to be the one to deny him. Of course not.
“All right, I’ll get the cards.”
“No, that’s all right, I brought my own.” Clark brought his own deck. Which means he’s been planning this, which means that Clark is trying to get Lex *naked*.
Lex must’ve fallen and hit his head. He’s hallucinating. He’s praying no one comes to find him anytime soon.
“You don’t trust my deck?”
A long look from Clark and, “your deck is fine. I just prefer my own on this occasion,” and Lex swears that Clark is toying with him. He has to be. That sneaky alien bastard. Between the deck metaphor and that look, there’s only one way that this game is going to end. With lots of nudity.
Maybe losing isn’t such a bad thing, just this one time.
“If it’s your deck, I deal.”
“Okay.” And Lex has never found shuffling the deck to be a particularly erotic experience, but there’s a first time for everything, especially with the way that Clark is staring at his hands and licking his lips. His very full, red lips.
Jesus.
“Alright, farmboy, how do you want it?”
And that blush is just way too good, too perfect. Oh God, Lex is going to enjoy tonight.
“How do I want what?” Oh, the possibilities are endless with this one.
“How do you want your poker? Five card, seven card, stud, draw, Dakota, Pass the Trash, Jack the Shifter, Wall Street, Psycho? What?”
“Psycho what?”
“It’s a type of poker, Clark.”
“Oh. I’ve never heard of it.”
“I’m not surprised, I doubt it gets played much at your mother’s bridge club.”
A dirty look from Clark and Lex didn’t mean that crudely.
“I like your mom, Clark. I was just saying.”
“I know. I just, I know I’m not all urban-hip but…”
“You’re fine. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
Oh, Jesus, Lex is so sad. He’s reassuring his gay alien lover that it’s okay to be a hick. Not that it’s okay to be an alien. Only Lex.
“I guess we can play it however you want,” and Lex *wants* it to be a naked Clark wrapped in 52-Pickup to be honest. However, if he has to go through all the motions first, then so be it.
“Five card stud it is.”
“Okay, how does that work?”
“Clark, you *do* know how poker works, right?”
“Of course I do. You try to get four of a kind or a royal flush.”
“If you get four of a kind or a royal flush in five-card stud, you’re cheating, and someone chops off your fingers.” Brutal, but honest, Lex has seen it done.
“*Lex*.”
“I’m just telling it to you like it is, honesty is important.”
Yeah, and Lex has just lost all semblance of form and tact where Clark is concerned, but he wanted someone he could be honest with. Clark should appreciate that.
“You’re just trying to scare me.”
“I’m trying to scare you because then you won’t run around saving the town half-wits and instead you’ll drive me crazy with your guilt complex? I don’t think so.”
“That’s not funny, you know.”
“A little humor never hurt anyone. I’m just trying to keep you honest.” One of them has to be.
“I thought that was supposed to work the other way around?”
“I’m sure you’ll make me honest, Clark. One day.”
A grin, and Lex can’t help leaning forward just that little bit, because Clark is getting good at taking hints. One kiss, just a quick one that ends up not being quick at all. A kiss that ends up with Clark cupping the back of Lex’s head and pulling him forward, just that little bit that puts Lex off balance, that makes him reach forward and grab Clark’s bicep for support.
Clark’s very taunt bicep.
Just one kiss that’s wet and hard and, god, Clark is a fast learner. And Lex just has to pull away that bit, so he can nuzzle Clark’s neck and inhale that scent that’s so good. So clean, like hope and innocence and fresh Egyptian cotton sheets. Quick nip at Clark’s earlobe because Clark is still learning and so, yeah, poker.
“Five-card stud. It’s nice and simple. You get five cards and you hope for the best.”
Hope for the best. Or the least, which in this case would ensure nakedness.
“Alright, Farmer Kent, do you want to make this a betting thing or is it clothing only?”
“I don’t really have any money.”
But Clark has something far far better.
“Clothes only it is,” and as he deals, Lex notices that these cards are a bit slicker than he’s used to, but he puts that down to their newness. Their virginal qualities, and it’s times like these that Lex wouldn’t mind a little see-through vision of his own.
Just a little sneak peak at what he’s going to win in a few hands.
But not with a hand like this. Still, he’s won on less.
“So, are you going to call, or are you out?”
“Out where?”
“I mean are you going to put your cards down or are you folding?”
“Oh, I’m – I’m in.”
“Alright, show me what you’ve got.”
And Clark has got, well. He’s got something. Un fucking real.
“Three of a kind?”
“Yeah.”
Beginners luck. Nothing else for it, and Lex can make this go on all night if he has to. He’s dressed for it. Shirt, pants, watch, belt.
“You’re only taking off the belt? But I thought --”
“Clark, you don’t get to choose what comes off in strip poker.”
“But – but...”
“Ready for another hand?”
“But.”
And Lex can say more with one eyebrow than most people can say in twenty minutes.
“Yeah, okay.”
Another deal of the deck, and this is much more Lex’s speed. The last time he had a hand like this he won a stripper and sixteen thousand Hong Kong dollars. Two eights, and Lex can’t help but be glad that Clark knows nothing about accessories, especially considering that he took off his boots and socks by the front door.
Nothing like a little luck to expedite the matter.
“Okay, Lex. Are you in?”
Well, look who’s picking up the lingo like a rounder.
“Yeah, read’em and weep.” Or not. “A pair of queens. Clark, you have a pair of queens?”
And Lex is not falling for that grin. He’s not, he’s being completely taken for a ride. Goddamnit. It’s taking every ounce of strength he has left to remember that he *wants* to lose to Clark.
“Jesus, Clark, is this deck marked?” A decidedly non-erotic look is being shot at Lex and he was just *asking*.
“All right. Fine,” and Lex can play dirty too.
“Cufflinks?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of hard to fasten my shirt without them.”
“*Lex*.”
“Yeah, Clark?”
“Can’t you take off something *else*?”
“Well, I could, but I haven’t lost another hand yet, now have I?”
“But your…”
“I’m going to lose another hand, Clark?”
Busted.
“ I’m going to lose all my hands, aren’t I?” And Clark’s silence is all that Lex needs to know the truth.
“You stacked the deck, didn’t you?”
“Yes, no. I just…”
Curiosity is driving Lex crazy and, “why’d you do that?”
“Because you were being so, so virginal!” and Lex would say something but he’s just too shocked to form words.
Lex Luthor, virginal?
Oh god, that’s good, that’s brilliant. That’s past insanity and bordering on the ridiculous. Lex can barely control himself. Lex doesn’t even remember being a virgin. *Ever*. The idea alone would cause mass rioting at every club in Gotham, Metropolis and Center City.
“Well, that’s certainly one way to look at it.” God, Clark’s petulance can only aid his cause and it’s all too absurd to be possible. Lex can’t help but laugh. And laugh more. And he can see himself falling off the sofa very very soon.
Or he would be falling off if he wasn’t suddenly being pinned to the back of said sofa by a very irate alien farmboy.
“You’ve been teasing me for months, Lex.”
Oh, god, Lex is never going to stop laughing now.
“I’ve been trying to,” wheeze, “*seduce* you for months, Clark.”
A moment of complete nonplussed bewilderment, wherein Lex tries to catch his breath, and Clark looks so fuckable when he’s confused.
“Then why haven’t you done anything about it?”
“Because I wanted it to be your decision.”
“Oh.”
Oh, yeah. About that. And Lex was going to say something else but he can’t really remember what is it now because Clark is kissing him, touching him and entwining their fingers in sea knots. Lex didn’t know that Clark had kinks, but he’s all for them. How else to explain Clark straddling Lex like a gymnast and pinning Lex’s hands above his head?
Loose hold right around his wrists, and it’s nothing that Lex couldn’t get out of if he really wanted to, but what would be the point in that?
There isn’t one.
Not a good one, not when Lex has got Clark spread out on top of him like jam on a piece of bread, and if Lex can just move right *there* then, yeah. He’s got Clark right where he wants him. Sandwiched between his legs with Clark’s cock right against his thigh, hard and insistent and, Jesus, Clark’s hot. Metaphorically, literally, every which way including loose. Maybe all the aliens from wherever Clark comes from are hot like this because it feels like Clark’s cock is burning a hole in Lex’s pants and he. doesn’t. care.
Lex can’t bring himself to do anything but thrust up against the weight of Clark’s body. Guttural moan from someone who is decided *not* Lex and, God, so hot, and Clark is stretching out now. Cocooning Lex between the leather sofa and flannel covered alien, and the back of Lex’s head is sticking to the sofa. He’s going to melt into the buttercream leather and the rest of Lex doesn’t *care*.
Lex’s wrists are twisting in Clark’s grasp but his legs are functioning independently. Rubbing and stretching against Clark and trying to wrap *around* him.
Another kiss and it’s not hard, not fast. Nothing childish or rash, but practiced and hoped for and full of longing and want. It’s not any of the things that Lex has come to expect from Clark but it’s everything that he’s needed. It’s the sort of place that Lex could happily spend the rest of his non-domesticated days.
Sharp nip now at Lex’s earlobe and an instantaneous jerk against Clark because, fuck, Lex is really thinking that he wants his hands back *now*.
That he wants to touch Clark. His hair, his cheekbones, his sin-inspired mouth that is begging to be wrapped around Lex’s fingers. Around his cock.
Lex wants Clark naked. Now.
He wants Clark bare and sweating and begging in his bed, in his shower, on the fucking *playground*. He wants to rub his nose along the downy hairs that he thinks run between Clark’s navel and his cock and spread Clark open until he’s begging and whimpering and all for him.
All for Lex.
In his mind’s eye Lex takes Clark slow and aching on his back and hard and fast on his knees.
In his mind Lex has fucked Clark a thousand times and made love to him in every room in the castle at least twice. He’s kissed Clark’s lips until they’ve bled and fucked his mouth until they were both raw.
None of his dreams have met up with his reality. They’ve never even come close.
Clark whimpering in Lex’s ear, and just *grinding* his cock against Lex’s thigh like he’s a scratching post, and friction is this brilliant thing that should be sold over the counter.
Lex is going to make *billions*.
Clark plastering wet kisses all over Lex’s face now and Clark has this soft girlish mouth which occasionally eclipses his masculinity, but right now it’s doing nothing but accentuating how very male Clark is. Sharp teeth nipping at Lex’s jawline and Clark taking his time to pull back and stare into slate eyes.
Perspiration and damp hair sticking to Clark’s brow and swollen lips just begging for Lex’s mouth. For his tongue.
Lex could go cross-eyed as he watches Clark lean down and lick at his upper lip. At that scar that has the express route right to his cock and if he wasn’t achingly hard before, he certainly is now.
Hard to the point of pain. Serious pain. To the point where rocking against Clark and coming in his pants really isn’t a half bad idea. It actually has quite a bit of merit, and god, Clark’s sucking on his neck. Nuzzling at the opening of Lex’s shirt and Clark’s mouth is this holy thing.
This religious artifact.
Clark is this national treasure and Lex wants to put a collar on him and issue a public statement declaring his ownership.
This Alien Belongs to Lex Luthor.
Lex wants Clark every which way he can get him which would be really good if he could have his hands back. If he could just *touch* Clark, but Clark isn’t listening, not paying attention and his hips are pistoning like a train engine. Lex doesn’t remember high school boys having longevity like this and chalks it up to that alien *whatever*. Thrust after thrust, and god, too many fucking clothes getting in the way.
“*Clark*.”
“Lex, I – I need,” freedom for Lex’s hands as Clark reaches down to stroke Lex’s face and Lex understands. Understands too well.
“It’s okay.” Lex grabs at the first thing he can get his hands on and, “just c’mon, take this off.”
First time in several minutes that Lex has bothered to look down and see that, hey, he’s covered with cards. 52-Pickup was never this much fun alone; and Lex is not obsessed with the card analogies because Clark is unbuttoning his shirt and Lex has to prop himself on his elbows and watch.
Has to see this.
Quick flash of flannel and Jesus, just when Lex thinks he’s forgotten about this alien part, Clark does something like that. Beautiful gorgeous alien farmboy practically naked and, “God, Clark.”
No shirt, no shoes, definitely getting serviced. One hand reaching out for Clark’s jeans, and not again with the pinning thing.
Hard grind and that’s someone who *is* Lex groaning.
“*Clark.*”
“I want you to – to.”
“Yeah, I know, but I need my hands back, just for a minute.”
And okay, so maybe he doesn’t need his hands to take off his clothes, and it’s not like he doesn’t have fifty other shirts just like that one.
Lex has been pinned in worse places and at least the cufflinks came off earlier.
Lex didn’t think that it was possible for Clark to feel this good, but. Fuck.
Clark’s mouth is opening up against Lex’s lips again and this kiss is slow and tender and very very right.
Clark is this edible *thing*, like milk and cookies and raw need. A quick bite of Lex’s lower lip and, yeah, he can let Clark keep control. At least for right now. As long as it ensures that Clark keeps sliding his tongue in Lex’s mouth with that slow insinuation of what he’s really after. As long as Clark keeps pressed against Lex like a vice and, yeah, Clark wants this. Lex can tell. He can smell it through denim and gabardine and sweat and he’s definitely not adverse to the idea himself.
Clark wants to fuck Lex. Or maybe he wants Lex to fuck him. Lex is game either way.
Especially if Clark keeps thrusting his hips against Lex’s stomach that way and murmuring against his mouth.
Hands scrabbling at the waistband of his pants and yeah, “*Fuck*, Clark.”
“ Lex. Lex, I need – I need *you*.”
“I know, just,” and Lex is trying to help Clark but maybe four hands are too many because Lex can’t remember ever having this much trouble taking off his pants in his *life*.
“*Lex*.”
“Jesus, Clark!” Lex knows he was wearing pants a moment ago because the leather sofa is cold against his bare skin, but *God*.
None of it mattering right now because Clark is *staring* and it’s lighting up everything like a fire hazard. Lex has to reach out and touch him. Sharp breaths and fluttering muscles and Lex’s fingers are trailing up Clark’s chest and branding the feel in his brain. Sweat and skin and innocence, all of it seeping out of Clark like excess pheromones.
Lex is completely transfixed.
Watching Clark watching him. Lex craning his neck to watch Clark lean down and *nuzzle* his neck. Lex’s hands can’t stop touching Clark, his back, his shoulders, his hair. Reactionary thrust against Clark’s erection, which for some godawful reason is still being keep in his jeans.
Something Lex has to fix, as soon as he can think.
Nothing better in this entire world than Clark Kent sucking at Lex’s collarbone and a sharp thrust that goes *nowhere* with an alien mounted on top of Lex.
Low moan from somewhere and Clark is shifting, moving, and Lex can feel his legs being spread. Hot breath against wet boxer-briefs and Lex’s body is just one enormous twitch right now.
“Oh god. *Lex.*”
Lex’s name being said in this painful, needy way, and his first instinct is to thrust upwards. Except that Clark’s hands are in the way and Lex’s boxer are in the way and then there’s nothing. Nothing but nakedness and air and Clark.
Clark with his hazel eyes that are practically black and “God!” Clark likes the nuzzling thing. He likes the touching thing. Warm skin and wet mouth rubbing along Lex’s shaft and if this ever stops Lex is going to die.
Lex’s hands are on Clark’s face, in his hair, and “Clark, stop teasing, just…” And there’s that split second between when Lex blinks and Clark moves, and god, *fast* alien.
Clark kneeling between Lex’s legs and Lex’s eyes are magnetized. He’s watching Clark licking and sucking his own fingers like they’re coated in chocolate; and if this is what Clark does by himself, Lex is installing webcams in the Kent household.
One by one, Lex watches as Clark’s fingers slide in and out with an audible ‘smack,’ and Lex is *not* whimpering. Of course he wasn’t was planning on that doing *to* Clark at some point either, but watching it is *way* better; and Lex is so engrossed in Clark’s mouth that watching him move is this otherworldly thing. Like a drug. Like an acid trip where he meets up with alternate universe versions of himself and watches as they all get off on watching Clark Kent suck his fingers. His long fingers. And *fuck*.
Wet hand around his cock and Clark’s wet tongue in Lex’s mouth, and Lex is going to fuck Clark until his knees give out. He’s going to fuck Clark’s hand until his brain shorts out and his spine collapses.
Mouth and hand, hand and mouth, mouth and hand both wrapped around Lex’s cock and he can feel himself losing consciousness. Loud groan and Lex can hear himself babbling.
Clark’s beautiful mouth wrapped around Lex’s cock like vacuum suction, and Lex has to prop himself up, has to look and see. Lex has to touch Clark and grab his hair, and Jesus, Clark is just moving up and down and staring at him like something that will disappear if he blinks.
God, it’s good, and wet, and Clark has no idea what he’s doing and Lex does *not* care. Not with Clark stroking and sucking like he’s trying to swallow Lex *whole*. Clark has his free hand on Lex’s hip, pulling, pushing and Lex has only dreamed about this forever, and he’s fucking Clark’s *mouth*.
Clark’s sweet mouth with lips the color of pink bubble gum and Cosmopolitan martinis and, he can hear Clark, god, trying to swallow him. Lex can hear the slurping and inhaling and oh, fuck, yes.
Wet fingers fondling and hefting his balls before that wet hand just slides back, back to that soft, smooth stretch of skin and all it takes it one small tease. Just the tickle of one finger and Lex can feel it all in the pipeline.
“*Clark.*” Lex has to yank at that stubborn head because Clark doesn’t know. Completely messy, inexpert - wonderful – blowjob and Lex just, has to *pull* Clark up to his knees. Rocketing forward to meet Clark’s mouth just as he comes, and yeah.
Lex is going to have this sofa bronzed.
Hard, forceful kiss and Lex is sucking on Clark’s tongue. Tasting himself the way Clark does, the way Clark *has*.
Pulls back just long enough to suck on his own fingers and watch Clark’s eyes dilate as he begins to understand. Comprehension is this great thing, and Clark’s hands ghosting over Lex’s scalp and his shoulders as Lex deftly unzips Clark’s traitorous Levis and just pays no heed to the boxers in his way.
Quick kiss and Lex’s hand sliding through the opening, and Clark’s cock is hot and weeping. And Lex wants to *see*. Pre-come leaking all over the head and Lex can feel the damp wetness that the boxers absorbed catching against the back of his hand. And Clark is just so fucking warm and it’s like Lex is holding an iron in his grasp.
One stroke, two, and Lex rubs the head with the pad of his thumb. Clark’s hands on his shoulders now, almost too hard, and his hips are thrusting against Lex’s hand. Clark gasping into Lex’s mouth now and it won’t take long. Not this time around, the next three or four should last longer.
Eyes wide open and Lex just has to watch. Clark panting into the nape of Lex’s neck now, and it’s okay.
“Clark, it’s okay. C’mon.”
And when Clark howls Lex’s name, it’s like something cracks inside of Lex and gets knocked free. Lex can feel it floating inside him. He can feel Clark rushing in his veins. In his mind. Coursing through his body and knocking over roadblocks and places marked ‘do not enter.’
It’s something that could be considering terrifying if Lex wasn’t ready for a change.
-finis-
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-06-06 12:25 pm (UTC)Wowah....wowaaaaaaaaaah. *long cat-stretch* I'm happily stunned. At some point I melted through to the sub-basement of this behemoth I work in...am still slightly stunned and breathless from the climb back up to my floor. Wowah.
You did it...you wrote the smut and it was full of words that reshaped such actions as "kiss" and "blowjob" into something stellar and heavenly.
Wowah.
no subject
Date: 2002-06-06 02:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-06-06 02:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Arglefuffle?
Damn.
That was so. good.
Totally incoherent now.
no subject
Date: 2002-06-06 04:04 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2002-06-07 10:44 am (UTC)All for the good of safety...
Re:
Date: 2002-06-07 11:08 am (UTC)of course.
no subject
Date: 2002-06-06 01:00 pm (UTC)Just so (expletive) (expletive) good!
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Date: 2002-06-06 04:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-06-06 01:02 pm (UTC)Mmmmmmm
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Date: 2002-06-06 01:39 pm (UTC)Purrrrrrrr.
Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiice.
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Date: 2002-06-06 01:45 pm (UTC)(Quite well, in fact.)
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Date: 2002-06-06 04:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-06-06 09:56 pm (UTC)Aaaaanyway: you know how to write The Sex! That's my opinion and I won't take it back. So nyah. :)
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Date: 2002-06-06 01:53 pm (UTC)Oh that's right it was Z !!!
*BG*
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Date: 2002-06-06 02:21 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2002-06-06 03:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-06-06 02:59 pm (UTC)I have this fucking huge big grin on my face, and I swear if anyone walked in right now I’d be committed. The wet, the sound, the whole thing was so damn visceral, real. If I had a dick, it would be telling me that Clark just sucked me off… but in way better words. Or maybe not, because lack of linguistic skills would be permitted at this point I think.
I am keeping this story with my copy of ‘Inevitability’ among others. Little slices of Zarah perfection.
You know now that no one will ever let you get away with the ‘can’t write smut’ excuse, although completely valid as a stylistic choice…. Just, well fuck, this was brilliant!!
no subject
Date: 2002-06-06 04:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-06-06 05:22 pm (UTC)Sorry :(
Oh my.
Date: 2002-06-06 03:55 pm (UTC)Seriously good smut. I need a cold shower now.
Please keep writing.
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Date: 2002-06-06 04:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-06-06 05:55 pm (UTC)Ah... strip poker...
no subject
Date: 2002-06-07 01:14 pm (UTC)