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Real Butter

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Real Butter

by Artemis

Series : (Unrelated stories) I Can't Believe It's Not Butter 1 Rating: NC-17
Disclaimers: I don't own the pretty boys or their friends in the Smallville universe. If I did, the CLex would be riftless and eternally in love. Neither money nor profits were made in the creation or posting of this story, and I have no money anyway. Spoilers: Season 1 -- Season 2. Completely AU from there. Lex was on the island; he came back and bought the farm. Clark went to Metropolis, but no Morgan Edge and no sexcapade summer, even if he did live off ill-gotten ATM money, stolen goods, etc. Summary: Lex gets a visitor in the middle of the night with an unexpected plan. Written for Lacey McBain's I Can't Believe It's Not Butter Challenge. Challenge: Lacey McBain's I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Butter Challenge. Must include the phrase, "I can't believe it's not butter" found at Warnings: Same Sex (MALE/MALE) relationship. If this turns you off or offends, go back now. Note: Since Clark's birthday is in May, and he was fifteen when he met Lex, this story takes place in the fall of Clark's senior year of high school. Dedicated to Lacey McBain, who was super understanding about the lateness of this story. October 2004.

Real Butter
By Artemis
October 2004

There was someone in his room.

Keeping his breathing slow, not moving, he tried to concentrate on where he could feel the presence that had awoken him.

It was something he couldn't explain. He'd always been a light sleeper, even more so after the meteor shower, nightmares of falling skies and boys crucified on crosses haunting his slumber. Yet, there was something more, something different, beyond merely waking easily. Perhaps a sixth sense: a Luthor trait of paranoia bred into the line, an animal instinct he'd been birthed with as a means to balance out being born Lionel Luthor's son, or the universe's way of handing him another means of survival because he would need it. He didn't know what it was, but he always knew when he was being watched, even while asleep.

It was the reason he'd asked for the penthouse in Metropolis. Since as long as he could remember, his dad made sporadic nocturnal visits, often just standing or sitting, presumably watching Lex sleep. He never spoke, never made a move to wake his son, though occasionally Lex would hear his father's footsteps move closer before fingers brushed his face or scalp lightly. He'd never been able to decide if it was disturbing or not, and as much as he tried to repress it, deep down he felt the smallest hope that perhaps this habit meant his father did love him. It was the reason he never confronted his dad, never asked what the visits meant, in case it made them cease all together, taking with them any small sign of paternal affection.

However, it interrupted his sleep and it was disconcerting at the very least, thus he'd asked for a penthouse for Christmas. He'd gotten an odd look and a scornful remark, but he'd also gotten his penthouse, making trips home from college much easier if he didn't have to stay at the manor for every visit.

The whole mess with Amy and Jeff had nearly driven him crazy, so sure that he could sense eyes on him but never seeing anyone around. His skin had crawled for weeks prior to the actual confrontation, feeling an imperceptible gaze caressing him, making him feel naked. Vulnerable. A tingling sense along his spine, a prickling on his nape, the feeling of something looming over him. It was only after the invisible boy had been revealed--and he still was working out how Jeff had done it, the rose oil absconded in his personal lab, too incredible of a scientific marvel for him to share with anyone else--that he'd felt an overwhelming sense of liberation. He'd actually been relieved to know that at least his instincts had been right and his overdeveloped sense of paranoia hadn't finally driven him insane.

Being Lionel Luthor's son was a fine line to walk, remaining justifiably paranoid, yet not go over the edge into sheer madness, seeing shadows behind every corner. He was still trying to find this balance, for clearly the debacle with his dad bugging the castle had proved just how lax he'd become after living 'the quiet life' in the self-proclaimed Meteor Capital of the World.

So much for an unassuming, boring exile to Wholesome, USA to re-evaluate his life choices.

Yet, as much as he hated the damn town, he had to admit he equally respected it. Where else were the denizens so refreshingly honest and candid in their sheer hatred of all things Luthor? Where else did people, whether ex-employees or super-powered teenagers, actually try to kill you to your face rather than hire an assassin or try to shoot you in the back? No, the people of Smallville did it all out in the open, which was so dissimilar from the games Lex was used to that he couldn't help but find it all disturbingly quaint, if slightly homicidal.

Maybe he was nuts after all.

Which didn't change the fact that his freak body with its freak senses had woken him up because someone was in his room. Watching him.

Whoever it was, was good. He couldn't hear his visitor moving at all, not even the rustle of clothes or a soft exhale of breath. While this didn't necessarily mean much, after all this was Smallville, where people walked through walls and men controlled minds with a touch, he really shouldn't have been as surprised as he was when he felt a familiar rush of wind whirl around him.

When it was finished a few seconds later, Lex found himself on top of the sheets, naked. The comforter was pushed down to a crumpled mess at the end of the bed, his pajama bottoms and t-shirt thrown on the carpet. On his stomach, face pressed into a pillow, he felt an equally naked farmboy sitting on the small of his back, knees on either side of his torso.

Lex groaned.

"You weren't supposed to wake up." Lex could hear the pout in Clark's voice. "I wanted to wake you."

"You did," Lex pointed out dryly. He really, really did not want to know what time it was. He had an early meeting with a vendor, one he wasn't looking forward to. However, it wasn't boding well for his REM needs that Clark began to bounce lightly on the mattress, making Lex oomph with each little spring.

"Not the way I wanted to," Clark replied huffily.

Lex tried to reach back with his left hand, twisting around to smack at Clark's knee. "Stop that."

Another bounce, harder this time, and Lex found big farmboy hands pressing his shoulders back into the mattress. "No peeking."

"Clark," Lex growled. "I have to get up early. Any other time--"

Clark leaned down and bit him, causing Lex to break off in astonishment. Kissing the slightly reddened area once, Clark said brightly, "Now."

Even as Clark began nibbling on his neck, Lex tried again. "Not that finding you in my bed isn't a pleasure, but I really need to sleep--"

"No," the teenager cut in, "I missed you. I haven't seen you in three days, and you said I could come over any time."

Then he kissed Lex's cheek sweetly.

Fuck. Lex slumped into the mattress, defeated. "If I didn't love you so much..." he said, trailing off threateningly.

Clark just ignored him, continuing to make his way down Lex's spine. Despite himself, Lex found himself relaxing into soft caresses and gentle lips. Scooting back, the teenager began kneading Lex's lower back, hands sure and strong. Brains turning into mush as they so often did around Clark, desire slowly awakened into a comfortable heat spreading throughout his body. Lex felt Clark work his way up, still nuzzling any available skin.

Whether it was his enhanced strength or just years of physically demanding chores on the farm, Clark stroked with just the perfect amount of force, working out all the stress and knots. It was heavenly; Lex wasn't immune. Skin warming, body loosening, he lay still as he was treated to an unexpected, unasked for massage.

"Mmmmm...that's nice," Lex mumbled, when Clark hit a particularly tense spot. Fingers dug in harder, working out the tension.

Clark hummed a vague acknowledgement, apparently busy with other matters, like applying himself in ways that was making Lex's body blitz out.

Okay. Late night visit. Not exactly what he would have wished for, at least not tonight, but fuck it all if Clark didn't have magic hands. And maybe his lover didn't exactly take him seriously, clearly he never listened to him, but it was Clark. His green-eyed impressionable Clark, who had a smile as bright as sunshine and a heart as sweet as honey.

His heart flipped, thinking of how beautiful and kind his younger lover was, how perfect and real. Like all the crap in his life up to now was just a test, yet he'd somehow passed with flying colors, surviving it, being better than his dad, and now his prize was the most incredible lover on the planet. His. To love. To have. To just be with.

Visions of lazy Sunday afternoons exploring the castle, echoes of warm laughter, drifted through his thoughts. Lulled into complacency, Lex was feeling very mellow and forgiving, thinking of how he'd have to show his appreciation to Clark tomorrow. It had been a while since they'd gone out. They could go hiking, bring a picnic dinner, maybe watch the sunset.

Make love under the stars.

Only visions of fun after-dusk activities fled his mind as he felt hot liquid being poured on his back. Whipping his head around, he saw a silver bowl being tipped over. Warm liquid was running in slow streams down his back, and a quick blur of movement had the bowl on the nightstand, fingers back on his skin, spreading it all around, catching drops before they fell on the sheets.

"What - " Puzzled, Lex caught a familiar scent, yet he couldn't quite place it. He felt a tongue land on his back and then lick up, confusing him further. Nose wrinkling, sniffing as he tried to figure out what was so recognizable.

And then it hit him.

"Is that butter?" he asked incredulously.

Clark's tongue moved down in a raspy caress, lapping at the middle of his back.


A tickling sensation caused Lex to shudder, a sweeping brush of touch dancing up and down his spine so quickly, like hundreds of fingers caressing him all at once. Then Clark did that fluttery thing with his tongue at the base of his spine that had Lex keening, arching his back up desperately.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck."

Fingertips slid down to his ass, spreading him open, stroking down his cleft. It was like fingerpainting, as Clark spread the melted butter all over, circling his hole, thumbs pressing in. Lex forgot all about whatever it was Clark had dumped on him as he thrust back, seeking more pressure. Yet Clark withdrew, hands reaching up to spread more of the melted butter until his back was covered. Dark head bowing down, he began sucking lightly.

Lex could practically feel the blood rushing to that one spot on his shoulder, skin darkening to leave proof of the late night visit. He moaned softly, even as he half-heartedly tried to move away, "I thought we talked about this."

Clark just suckled harder, teeth worrying his skin. After a few moments, he bit down gently before lifting his mouth. "You know you like it."

Christ. There wasn't anything Clark did that Lex didn't like, but that wasn't the point. "If anyone sees--"

Clark cut Lex off, moving in for a kiss. Licking at Lex's lip, he dipped in, tongue buttery sweet as he took possession of Lex's mouth. Confident and sure of himself, lips moving against lips, he deepened the kiss until both of them were breathless.

Lex suitably stunned, he began nibbling his way along the smooth line of Lex's jaw to the soft skin of his nape. Lex tried to turn around, wanting to give as much as he was getting, but Clark wouldn't let him. He kept Lex still, rubbing small circles right below his shoulder blades as he paid homage along both lines of strong shoulders. When he deemed Lex obediently passive, he removed his hands, slipping them up front to explore pale pink nipples.

It was an incredibly erotic sensation, the slip and slide of oily fingers on his peaked nipples. Pinching. Stroking. Blood rushed straight down to his erection, making Lex ache for more. A brush along his thigh had him quivering, and he automatically moved when Clark urged him onto his hands and knees.

One hand still busy with his chest, Lex's attention was on the mouth still lapping and licking along his spinal column, so he started when he felt Clark's errant right hand suddenly caress his ass. However, soon he was leaning into the caress, spreading his knees further, as fingers slid further down, circling and teasing him.

He was just about to demand more when one finger entered him. Soon, Lex was pushing back enthusiastically, fucking himself on Clark's fingers. It didn't last long, and a groan of disappointment slipped out as Clark withdrew. Lex heard a metallic clatter as Clark did something with that damn bowl again. It was only moments later when his lover was back, cock brushing against his hole.

Fuck, yeah.

Relaxing as much as he could, feeling himself widen as Clark entered him, his world narrowed to the feeling of being filled. Of hard, hot cock slowly spearing him. Only it was all the better because it was Clark, who was love and friendship and laughter. Everything good in the world was associated with Clark. Who was all around Lex, skin on skin, even as he was in Lex.

He rolled his head back, eyes opening wide, as a huge hand wrapped around his own cock. Slowly, gently, Clark began to slide in and out even as he jacked Lex. Balls slapping Lex's ass, mouth still on his skin, Clark established a rhythm.

Lex found himself meeting Clark with each thrust, until they were moving faster and faster. Getting closer and closer, feeling himself being pushed to the edge, his mind spinning out as he came with a jerk. Two more powerful thrusts had Clark coming, hips tight against Lex, moaning Lex's name into his skin. Panting lightly, Lex only grunted once when Clark collapsed on him, pressing him into the mattress.

They rested there, the feel of so much farmboy skin giving Lex more pleasure than discomfort over generous farmboy weight, the scent of their sex in the air, mixing with the light sweet scent of melted butter. Eventually, though, the warm glow of love and sex began to wane as the wet spot under him began to intrude, as well as the discomfort of feeling oily. Or perhaps it was more like well oiled. Nudging Clark with his elbow, he tried to subtly indicate that it was time to move.

Clark ignored him.

As usual.


After a bit of cajoling on Lex's part and a lot of grumbling on Clark's, Lex convinced his lover to get up. Dragging Clark to the bathroom to take a quick shower--which included several stern looks to show just how serious he was about no 'playing'--they were back in bed within twenty minutes.

The only reason Lex even let Clark cuddle was because of alien speediness.

He hadn't been amused when he'd seen the sheets; there was no way in hell he was going to go to sleep in buttery, sweaty, greasy sheets. Especially since Clark seemed to have some perverse internal sensor that always pushed Lex onto the wet spot by the time morning rolled around.

So a quick rushing alien whirlwind changed the sheets, and Lex felt mellow enough that he didn't even complain when he found himself under bedding a few seconds later, Clark wrapped around him like a second blanket. Manhandling aside, it made something in Lex melt as Clark snuffled into his neck, arms holding him close as their legs tangled until you couldn't tell where Lex began and Clark ended.

"Do I need to set the alarm?" Lex whispered.

Dark, damp strands tickled his skin as Clark shook his head. "No. I already did."

As frustrating and bothersome as it was, there was no way Lex wanted Jonathan Kent to find out his only child hadn't slept in his bed like the good boy he was supposed to be. Which meant Clark had to go home before the elder Kents were up in the morning, unless Lex wanted to hire a personal bodyguard to protect him from enraged fathers. Luckily, enhanced speed came in pretty handy, translating to extra minutes in bed and the ability to sneak through the house fairly easily.

Regardless of Clark being eighteen and legally an adult, neither of the lovers was too keen on the Kents finding out about their relationship. As it stood, Lex was thinking post graduate school might be a good time. Possibly. As long as they were out of state when they passed the news onto Jonathan.

He really should get back to sleep. Lex knew this. He had that meeting with Vanessa Miller, who was a shark on her worst days, so he couldn't afford to be at anything less than his best. Yet, something was bothering him.

"Why butter?"

"Huh?" Clark asked sleepily. Butting his forehead against Lex, he murmured, "Tired."

Lex snorted. "I remember saying something about sleep earlier, and someone didn't listen to me. Not that I'm complaining."

Clark made a small noise of disbelief.

"I love you," Lex said solemnly, "More than anything. But Clark, you have to admit. Butter? It's more than weird."

"Like you didn't know I was weird when you kissed me," Clark griped, shifting to get a firmer grip on Lex's hip.

Right. When Lex kissed him. It was a common charge whenever Lex complained about anything Clark-related, and the eighteen-year-old conveniently forgot that he'd shown up in Lex's pool uninvited.


The little cock tease had led Lex on for nearly a year, showing up at the castle wearing ungodly short shorts in the summer, peeling off layer after layer in the winter, the whole time blathering on and on about Lana. How was Lex to know that Clark's insecurities had come up with the 'foolproof' plan of making Lex jealous by way of Lana Lang? That Clark needed Lex to make the first move because he'd been so afraid of being rejected?

Fuck. If Lex had known that, if he'd had the slightest inkling that Clark had returned his feelings, he'd have made the first move long before that day in the pool.

"So really," Clark continued, voice slurred with sleepiness, "it's your own fault."

"Right," Lex said blandly. Not sarcastic at all.

Clark made a pleased noise of agreement. And because a pleased Clark was so damn adorable, Lex just sighed internally as he stroked Clark's arm softly.

Thank God his father couldn't see him now.

Not ready to give up on the butter oddness, he asked again, "Butter?"

Heaving a huge sigh, letting Lex know just how exasperating he was being, Clark asked grumpily, "Didn't you like it?"

There was no way in hell he was ever, ever going to tell Clark just how much he liked everything Clark did. Fuck, he even liked the way Clark breathed. How he blinked. How he ate his peas with his face all screwed up in disgust.

Cockwhipped at the age of twenty-four. It was pathetic.

"I'm not saying that," Lex said carefully. "But you have to admit, it's...unusual. I'm just wondering where the inspiration came from."

A tongue flicked out, licking Lex's neck. "It was yummy." Another lick. "You're yummy."

"Clark." The name was a warning. A very dire warning.

Another sigh. "Fine."

Lex waited patiently. After several long, silent minutes, Clark began squirming.

"We had corn on the cob tonight."

He remained silent, the seeming disjointed fact not fazing him. He knew that whatever Clark-logic was at work would soon be explained. It would undoubtedly be bizarre, but it would be explained.

"Dad complained," Clark grumbled.

When doesn't Jonathan Kent complain? However, Lex wisely kept this observation to himself. After all, maybe the farmer didn't complain as much when a Luthor wasn't around. He really couldn't vouch for what passed for conversation at the Kent Farm when he wasn't there.

"Mom makes us eat 'I Can't Believe It's Not Butter' now," the teenager added, grievance clear in his voice. "'Cause of Dad's cholesterol, and it's just not the same as real butter."

"I Can't Believe It's Not Butter," Lex echoed.

What the fuck?

"Yeah," Clark said with more enthusiasm. "Exactly! I mean, it's not like I'm going to get clogged arteries, so I don't see why I can't have real butter. Not that fake stuff. Corn on the cob just isn't the same without it, you know. But does anyone ask my opinion? No. Does anyone ever ask my opinion? No. I'm just the dumb kid. Next thing you know, we're going to start drinking skim!"

Lex kept his face carefully blank. The last thing he needed was Clark getting annoyed that he wasn't being taken seriously. But really. As if skim milk was the end of the world?

Sometimes Lex really wondered about Clark.

"Though I feel sorry for Dad," Clark chattered away, suddenly more awake as he found an appreciative audience. Lex let him talk about dinner, hearing digressions about Clark's recently health conscious mom who kept reading all the latest health and diet books, before gently breaking in.

"Let me get this straight," he began. "You had corn on the cob for dinner this evening."

Clark nodded.

"And you missed having real butter."

Again, Clark nodded.

"So you snuck in here, in the middle of the night, and poured real butter all over me."

Another earnest nod of agreement.

Lex wondered if his life could be anymore surreal.

"So you licked butter off of me, like I was a cob of corn."

Adorable little furrows lined Clark's brow, the teenager clearly thinking Lex's statement over. "Well, not exactly. You taste much better than corn."

Weird. His boyfriend was completely weird. But then, Lex wasn't exactly normal himself. And Clark was incredibly hot. A body that was worthy of worship. A face an angel would weep over. And the proverbial heart of gold. Plus, there was the matter of him being hot.

He lived in Smallville. His boyfriend was an alien. Hell, he ate weird for breakfast.

Lex leaned in, pressing a kiss to Clark's temple.

"I love you, Clark."

Lex felt the surprise emanating from his lover, quickly turning into pleasure. Clark snuggled in close, a soft sigh of contentment on his lips. He replied happily, "Love you, too."

"Good night."


Lex fell asleep with the smell of butter faint in the air.

Real butter, not the fake stuff.