Concessions and Victories
Series: (Unrelated stories) I Can't Believe It's Not Butter 2
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 never married Helen. Summary: Lex and Clark come back from a date, but realize to their horror that there's no lube. What's a guy to do? Desperate times call for desperate measures. 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", which can be found at http://www3.sk.sympatico.ca/mendc/challenges.htm Warnings: Same Sex (MALE/MALE) relationship. If this turns you off or offends, go back now. Note I: MINOR SPOILERS AHEAD. DO NOT READ IF YOU WANT TO READ THE STORY UNSPOILED. Second story for Lacey McBain's I Can't Believe It's Not Butter challenge, which I hope in some small way makes up for my late entry. Credit to Lenore for her fic "The Season" and her Snowflake Festival at the endnotes. This story takes place in the last half of Clark's junior year of college, so he's twenty-one (turning twenty-two in May). To make it easier on the readers, if you do the math, this means Lex and Clark began dating sometime after Clark turned sixteen (after the tornado and during his sophomore year of high school). Dedicated to Lacey and Chad, one of the nicest guys I know; he's the inspiration for every story that Clark or Lex use the term 'babe'. Thanks, Chad, for using the term 'babe' so casually and natural that I learned, "Yes, a guy can call his significant other 'babe' and still be completely masculine, not sounding silly at all." October 2004.
Concessions and Victories
The door swung open, the light from the hallway spilling into the dark room. Two grappling figures were silhouetted in the yellow light, twined together as hands wandered liberally. One arm snaked out, even as the couple stumbled through the doorway, slapping at the light switch at the wall.
"Oh yeah," Clark breathed out, damp lips slipping down Lex's throat, eyes glazing slightly. Lex squeezed the hard erection through the dark slacks again. A gurgling sound was twisted out of Clark's throat before he choked out, "Oh God. Do that again."
Lex was nothing if not accommodating, so he did.
Clark pressed his body in closer, clinging to Lex as he desperately tried to unbutton Lex's shirt.
"Door," Lex said urgently.
"Let Mrs. Henderson get an eyeful," Clark mumbled, kissing down the exposed skin, revealed frustratingly slow. His brows furrowed as he stared at the uncooperative buttons with a displeased expression. "Why do you have to wear shirts with so many buttons?"
Lex ignored Clark, mouth moving up to a perfectly formed ear. As if anything on Clark wasn't perfectly formed. Biting on the soft lobe, tracing along the rim, he began to flutter his tongue inside, twisting at the last minute. He smirked internally as Clark wailed out, clasping onto him as the strongest being on the planet felt his knees go weak.
Fuck, that was hot. It made him hard every time. Who knew Kryptonians were especially erogenous when it came to their ears, the tickling sensation an erotic tease that made Clark's insides melt? After five years together, Lex knew every other hot spot on his lover's body, and he planned to put good use to his practical knowledge tonight.
After the door was shut.
"One more complaint from Mrs. Henderson, and you and Pete will be living out on the streets," Lex said pointedly.
Clark stared at Lex in disbelief for several moments. Then his face melted into a heartbreaking pout, long black lashes batting up and down as huge green puppy eyes were cast at Lex.
Pure manipulation at work, clearly by a master. Yet, Lex still wasn't sure if Clark did it on purpose or if it was subconscious. Not even knowing the younger man for six years had revealed whether Clark consciously used ridiculously childish gestures so effectively they might as well have been labeled a lethal weapon. Feminine wiles his ass, Lex hadn't met the woman who had anything on Clark's masculine wiles.
Damn the boy. When he was looking at Lex like that, Lex didn't give a crap about whether Clark was trying to manipulate him or not. A few more of those looks, and he'd readily sign over all his assets with a soppy grin, his father's wrath bedamned.
Stifling his growing amusement, a shot of lust jolting his cock, Lex reached up to lower Clark's head to close the few inches that separated their mouths. Nibbling on the full lower lip that was thrust out, he cajoled until Clark slipped his tongue into his mouth. Tongues tangling, breath mingling, they merged together into a warm, wet center where only they existed.
When he finally drew back, both were holding onto each other tightly. Dropping one last kiss on Clark's lips, he reluctantly pulled himself away. Puppy eyes worked, at least if they were Clark's moss green orbs, Lex a willing supplicant. He found the whole boyish innocence endearing, possibly even enchanting, and definitely hot.
It was a Clark-ism and Lex found just about everything about Clark irresistible. Pouting and coy looks included.
He closed the door, turning around in time to find out that apparently Kyrptonian knees had found a second wind. Six foot four of enthusiastic college junior practically jumped on him, pressing his back into the wood. Hands became busy, sliding up between his chest and his untucked shirt, stroking firmly to touch as much skin as possible. One thigh slid between his legs, rubbing sinuously.
Dropping his head back to thud lightly on the door, Lex moaned as Clark began attacking his neck. Devouring him. Buttons pinged on the floor as the last of his shirt was pulled open impatiently.
And Clark wondered why he liked to wear shirts with buttons? Silly boy. Luckily his tailors kept a ready supply of buttons on hand, having adapted to their employer's bizarre habits of denuding his shirts of their buttons.
Cupping his own hands around his lover's delectable ass, Lex pulled Clark flush against him, hard body against hard body. A few tugs had Clark's brown cashmere turtleneck sailing over the couch. It was tantalizing, feeling warm skin made golden by the sun against the column of flesh bared by his open shirt, which Lex took full advantage of as he press against Clark, kissing him passionately.
Pushing with hands and legs, he maneuvered the brunette through the living room and down the hall, past the kitchen and the bathroom, towards Clark's bedroom. They shed clothes, pulling and yanking items from each other, littering the floor as they went. Lex made a mental note to have Clark clean up after they were finished in the bedroom, completely unapologetic about planning to make the superspeedy half of the relationship do a quick once through before they went to sleep.
Pete had been quite vocal the last time he'd come home to find such a trail, outlining exactly what activities had gone on while he'd been out. Not that Lex particularly cared about Pete's tender sensibilities, but when Pete started bitching, Clark started sulking, and from there it was only a step away from Clark brooding.
Clark, obviously unaware of Lex's ability to long-term plan while in the process of getting laid, pushed Lex against the nearest wall. They bumped into a table, framed photos and a small figurine falling harmlessly to the carpet. Both were oblivious, though, as Clark peeled the last of Lex's clothes off and threw them over his shoulder. Wriggling out of chocolate brown slacks, he let them drop to the floor as he mouthed the nearest nipple.
Fingers threaded in dark strands, Lex murmured encouragement as he held Clark to his chest. He gasped as Clark picked him up, propping him up against the wall as the brunette wrapped Lex's long, muscular pale legs around his waist. Pressing forward, Lex felt Clark's leaking cock drag against his stomach. Rubbing against each other, mouths seeking each other out, Lex abruptly hissed as he felt one dry finger press inside him.
"Lube," he winced, tensing at the slight pain.
"Sorry, sorry," Clark murmured, apologetically. He continued to thrust lightly against Lex's stomach for a few moments, apparently thinking of where it was, before he slowed down. Leaning his forehead against Lex, he groaned as he went still. "Crap. We used the last of that strawberry stuff on Monday. I forgot to pick some up."
"You're kidding me."
"I'm soooo sorry. I had that Psych test..."
Fuck. "Okay." Lex remained calm. He was the CEO of one of the fastest growing companies in the world. He could do options. "Lotion. Do you or Pete..."
Clark snorted. "Yeah, right. We're guys, not a bunch of..." Clark trailed off when he saw the darkening look on his boyfriend's face. He quickly changed direction, "Definitely not as refined and sophisticated enough to know about skin care, and dry skin, and uh, uh...flakiness, and, and...stuff like that."
"You don't complain about me being 'a bunch of' when you're going on and on about my skin," Lex growled, pushing at Clark until the twenty-one year old let him down. "I seem to remember someone who has a fetish about applying his mouth to said skin, but if you have a problem, I'm sure there are others who'd be more than--"
"No problem," Clark cut in quickly. He pressed a soft kiss to the side of Lex's neck. "Definitely no problem. You're perfect. Gorgeous. No problems whatsoever." He flickered out a tongue, showing just how few problems he had with soft, carefully taken care of skin.
Lex moaned low in his throat as Clark started getting into it again, moving his body with his lover's. However, a wandering hand brushing his ass reminded him of their problem. "Bath oil?"
"Not girls," Clark muttered without thinking, his attention on the feelings created by their cocks rubbing against each other, mind enveloped in the pleasure of just touching Lex.
Lex had no such attention problem. Frowning, he took a step away, despite the fact that his dick was telling him it was a bad idea.
He was not a girl.
"Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap," Clark said under his breath. He stepped towards Lex, closing the distance, eyes widening in regret. Wrapping himself around Lex, he said hastily, "Babe, I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean it like that. I love taking baths with you. But I'd never hear the end of it if I had that kind of stuff here. You know Pete."
Lex harrumphed, still a little cranky, but softening slightly. Fuck if Clark wasn't doing it again, pressing his buttons, subtly manipulating him into forgiveness. But the very pretty boy that was starting to grope him again had a point. Pete was a Neanderthal. A very loyal, very trustworthy cave-friend, but a Neanderthal all the same, one who wouldn't know hedonistic revelry if it bit him in the ass.
A pizza and a six-pack of Budweiser was more Pete's language.
Yes, he was well aware that he a snob. He also knew that spending half of his formative years in England had made an impact, mostly for the better, especially concerning matters of taste. He shuddered, thinking of the last football game he'd been forced to watch with Clark, Pete, and their frat buddies. If that wasn't an act of love, he didn't know what was.
And it was love. So, he magnanimously ignored the use of the term 'babe' and leaned forward to nuzzle Clark's jaw. He murmured in a low voice, "What about in the kitchen?"
Clark shot him a deer-in-headlights look.
Christ. Even 'stupid' was an adorable look on Clark. Rolling his eyes, he took pity and clarified, "Oil. In the kitchen. Such as olive oil. Used for cooking, an activity performed using a stove, in order to provide fuel for your body."
"As if you'd know," Clark snorted, and then started snickering. "I bet you had a personal chef at Princeton."
"Hardly," Lex retorted. "I can take care of myself, you know."
Clark nodded earnestly, and then ruined it by snickering again.
"I can make a mean brownie," Lex murmured in Clark's ear, sidetracking to nibble lightly. Clark shuddered. "Secret recipe."
"Really?" Clark breathed out, hands starting to wander again.
"Really." Lex started to thrust his tongue in slowly. He whispered softly, "Mom got it from the owner of her favorite bakery in New York. We used to make them every year on my birthday. Made a huge mess in the kitchen, the staff would make a fuss..."
"Fuss," Clark repeated in a daze.
Good times. There was still something about the smell of brownies baking that brought back memories of those days. Even his dad seemed to mellow out at the aroma. It had been a tradition, Lillian taking Lex into the kitchen to make brownies first thing in the morning for a family birthday. Just as she'd made them with Lex every time someone in their small family of three had become sick, which had happened fairly often with both Lex and Lillian. To this day, he found brownies comforting, perhaps the only comfort food he could claim to have.
But he didn't share this with Clark. Instead, he smiled as he reminded, "Oil? In the kitchen?"
It took a few minutes to penetrate Clark's lust-filled mind. By the time he finally drew back to answer, Lex was panting breathless, urging Clark to not stop. Shaking his head, the brunette said despairingly, "You know Pete's idea of cooking. I think we might have eggs, a dozen cans of tuna, ten boxes of microwave popcorn, and frozen pizzas."
"Cooking oil, for the eggs?"
Another head shake. "Pam spray."
Lex groaned, pushing away grabby hands as he backed away. "Forget it, flyboy. No lubricant, no fucking."
"No." Lex stood firm, not wavering at the desperate, wide-eyed plea, full lips opening into a soft 'o' of temptation. "No, Clark. I mean it."
"You could take me." Clark took a few aggressive steps forward, blatantly flexing a few muscles along the way. There was one particularly impressive display as he managed to flex one ass cheek, and he smirked when he saw Lex's eyes follow. "Please, babe. I need you."
"You might have an invulnerable ass," Lex said grimly, "but my cock isn't. There's no way anything of mine is going into anything of yours without lube and a condom."
Clark's face fell.
"And don't call me babe."
Lex stomped down on the amusement that wanted to take over at the sight of Clark simultaneously flashing between smugness over the annoying pet name and despair at being told no sex tonight. Or at least anal sex. He rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe he was thinking this, but Clark could be such a guy, and his fixation on penetration was sadly archetypal.
"It's not like we can't do other--"
Face lighting up, Clark cut Lex off by grabbing his hand and hauling him towards the kitchen. He ignored Lex's wriggling and pulling to be freed, as well as his complaints to stop hauling him around like a plushy. A man with a mission, he made a beeline to the refrigerator. Opening it, he triumphantly pulled out a big plastic tub with his free hand.
Lex blinked. And blinked again when Clark's triumphant expression didn't change, nor did the container in his hand.
"I Can't Believe It's Not Butter." Lex stared for several long moments, but still nothing changed. After another hard look, he had to mentally deduce, 'No, not some sort of delusion brought on by stress.'
"Yup," Clark crowed. "Come on." He shut the refrigerator, starting to pull Lex back in the direction of the bedroom.
Lex resisted. I Can't Believe It's Not Butter? Unbelievable. He was thinking more along the lines of olive oil, maybe extra virgin. Not that it had any special significance anymore, Clark's virginity having been claimed in every possible way known to Luthor fervor, but Lex liked irony. He also liked Clark's blushes, and the word 'virgin' still did it, the young man still very much Martha Kent's child.
But I Can't Believe It's Not Butter?
"We are not doing this," Lex declared, digging his heels into kitchen linoleum rather unsuccessfully. Pete had some weird obsessive-compulsive fixation on clean kitchen floors, and as interesting as it was to psychoanalyze Pete when bored, Lex had never delved into Pete's kitchen fetishes. He was half-afraid he might find out the boy waxed the floor weekly on his hands and knees. Naked. Pete really did enjoy that scene in "American Beauty" entirely too much for it to be merely masculine appreciation.
Bare feet sliding on the floor, Lex reiterated, "We are NOT doing this."
Clark turned around, shooting him a look of disbelief.
"It's butter." Lex couldn't believe he actually had to explain this.
"Well, actually, margarine," Clark started to say. He stopped short when he saw Lex's face.
"Fine," Lex bit out. "It's butter substitute, and you are not sticking that in my ass. And I am definitely not buttering up my dick like a cob of corn to stick in yours."
Several expressions flashed over Clark's face. Incredulity. Disgust. Which was understandable, thinking of the use of corn in areas Lex found very disturbing as well. Annoyance. Lust. Amusement. Finally settling on a mix of the last two, the college junior, who very much prided himself on his sexual appeal to one Alexander J. Luthor, set the tub on the kitchen counter and crowded Lex back into the refrigerator door.
Lex shivered as his bare back hit the cool surface, but Clark very thoughtfully pressed his very warm body onto his front. Head tilting up, he found himself being kissed enthusiastically, Clark sliding his tongue against his in a sensuous prelude. One hand slipped down to palm his cock, the other moving to cup his neck, one thumb rubbing his skin hypnotically.
"Oh fuck," he breathed out, when Clark finally lifted his mouth.
"Exactly," his lover murmured. "I'll make it so good, Lex."
Shaking his head, trying to force his brains to start processing information once more, Lex tried to draw away a little so he had space to think. Not that he had anywhere to go. Damn himself for teaching Clark about strategy. He remembered enough to complain, "Butter, Clark."
"I think it's kind of hot," Clark said earnestly. Seeing Lex's skeptical face, he fell back on plan A, rubbing himself against Lex wantonly, using his hand to slide along Lex's hard length. He rubbed the wet slit with his thumb, even as he continued stroking Lex's nape with his left hand. Pressing soft kisses to Lex's mouth, he added beseechingly, "Just try it. Please."
Lex narrowed his eyes.
"Please, Lex." Clark batted his eyes, breathing out in a soft plea, "For me."
Clark smiled jubilantly, teeth flashing white, annoyingly perfect. Lex allowed himself to be led to the bedroom, tub of butter substitute in hand. Shit. The things he did for Clark.
He was clearly an idiot.
However, he was an idiot about to get laid by the most glorious being to ever grace this world or any other, so he got on the bed, throwing aside the clothes piled haphazardly on top. Just hearing himself wax poetic about Clark in his mind was enough to make him cringe, so he looked around, his mind jumping on the nearest distraction. He specifically was not looking at Clark opening the tub of I Can't Believe It's Not Butter.
Fuck, Clark was a slob. "Don't you ever clean in here?"
Clark just snorted. "You say that every time you come in here."
"Which should tell you something."
Crawling enthusiastically on the bed, open tub in hand, the brunette ignored Lex. Lex didn't exactly appreciate it, even if he did get a good eyeful as he watched Clark slink across the mattress towards him. Fuck, Clark might be a slob, but he was also exquisite. Superb. A magnificent creation of grace and beauty.
He probably needed professional help. No one should be this much in love.
Hell, just look at what he was about to do. In one word: butter.
Lex did frown when he noticed Clark was missing something, which caused the younger man to slow down slightly. "Condoms?"
Clark groaned. "Do we have to?"
His frowned deepened.
Tub abandoned on the mattress, Clark closed the distance to eagerly press against Lex, stroking all the right spots. "It's been five years, Lex."
"Safety," Lex reminded firmly.
Clark rolled his eyes. "I can't get sick. You can't get sick. We're both insanely healthy. We're in a committed, long-term relationship. We're monogamous."
Lex's face didn't change.
"We're definitely monogamous, right," Clark asked, a vague menace in his tone.
As if Lex was the one who'd fool around. "I'm not the one who has college coeds throwing themselves at him all the time, perky breasts being shoved in his face at every turn."
"No," Clark said grumpily. "You're the one who has men and women panting over him, throwing themselves at you every time you go to one of your fancy society parties."
"Hell Week." Nose rising slightly in the air, he sniffed lightly. Damn hussy sluts. He would've had the Tri Delta sorority kicked off campus if Clark hadn't caught him making plans.
"Last LuthorCorp board meeting," Clark shot back.
Like that was his fault. He couldn't control what some assistant did, and it wasn't like he looked all that closely when she'd showed up in the executive washroom and started to undress for him. Some people's terms of negotiation were a bit broader in scope than Clark realized.
Lex felt the glow of success as Clark flinched. The boy had actually been shocked when the group he'd been placed into for the semester had all hit on him at one point or another. Lisa Turpin, of the big breasts and small brains, had worn low-cut fragments of cloth that some might creatively call shirts, constantly touching Clark's arms at every group meeting. Bradi 'with an i' Carrington, whose big dream was to be a cheerleader for the Sharks, had asked Clark out on a monthly basis, clearly unable to comprehend anyone not wanting to date her. And Craig fucking Matthews had goosed Clark during every class, if he could get close enough, and had tried to cop a feel at every opportunity, a smug leer on his pretty-boy face.
Lex ignored the fact that Clark had been miserable the entire semester, feeling like a piece of meat every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Or rather, a confused piece of meat since he'd honestly been baffled as to why three people suddenly couldn't stop wanting him. He'd even tried to get the professor to let him switch groups, to no avail, since Clark couldn't admit to the real reason why his group wasn't working out.
However, Clark didn't stay thrown for long. He said in a lethal voice, "Snowflake Ball."
That was a low blow. Lex retorted immediately, "Senior Prom."
"That last trip to Japan."
"Your Senior Class field trip."
"Last year's LuthorCorp Christmas party!"
"Last year's trip to Smallville for Thanksgiving!"
"Spring Break." Clark narrowed his eyes. "In Cancun."
Lex growled, "Spring Break in Paris."
"Alicia," Lex hissed the hated name, adding 'The Slut' silently.
"Adam Knight," Clark snarled.
Blue eyes widened in shock. He'd actually liked Adam, and it wasn't Adam's fault he'd been Lionel Luthor's pawn. Lex was just thankful they'd been able to save him, and if Adam developed a small crush because of it, it had been harmless. Even kind of sweet.
Clark threw fits every Christmas when Lex got a card.
Fine. If Clark was going to be that way. He brought out the big guns. "Lana Lang."
"Doctor Helen Bryce," Clark spat out.
Lex nearly swallowed his tongue. Helen? Helen?!? As if he would have really married that duplicitous, sanctimonious, traitorous witch. He'd only pretended to be engaged to her for Clark's sake, quashing her secret plans and overreaching ambitions, with the added bonus of one upping his dad. And did Clark appreciate it?
He uttered a name he'd forbidden to be crossed by either of their lips.
It was Clark's turn to be shocked, breath catching in a gasp.
Bitch. Devious, underhanded, skanky-ho bitch. And those were Chloe's words, which didn't even approach what Lex really thought of the woman.
Chloe had helped smooth the way for an internship for Clark last summer at The Daily Planet, using her contacts that she'd formed while doing her own internships during high school. It had given Clark the opportunity to live in Metropolis for the summer so he could be somewhat near Smallville, plus had given him a close up glimpse into the world of journalism before he started to seriously apply himself towards a major.
It had been his advisor's idea to intern at a newspaper somewhere. If he didn't like working at the paper, he'd tell his advisor in the fall that he wanted to enter the Astronomy and Physics programs, astrophysics one of Clark's top contenders. If he did like his experience, he'd tell him he wanted to go with Journalism, which was a field he'd felt comfortable in after his work at The Torch.
It had only taken a few well-placed words in a few key ears by Lex for Clark to be allowed to put off declaring his major by three months. In a rare moment of accepting help through Lex's connections, Clark had been grateful for the favor--and the influence--if it afforded him a little breathing room.
Of course, Clark had run into the up-and-coming new star of the paper over the summer, and at first Lois had mostly ignored the quiet, shy brunette who haunted the office, a helpful smile perpetually on his face. Until she found out he was dating Lex Luthor. Then she'd started chasing Clark's ass like a bitch in heat. As if seducing Clark would've had the boy spilling LexCorp, LuthorCorp, or even Luthor secrets into her ear. In addition, Lex was convinced she'd also wanted to bag Lex Luthor's only known long-term lover.
She'd dared to get Clark drunk, actually trying to lure the inebriated, barely twenty-one year old into her apartment and into her bed.
Lex felt a moment of remorse, regretting bringing up her name. Maybe it was a little low. It had practically been attempted rape, getting Clark past the point of reasonable consent. It was a good thing Lex had hired Mercy Graves that summer, and then charged her to monitor Clark to make sure he was safe. Not that Clark had seen it that way when he'd found out who his savior had been and why she'd been at the bar to interfere in the first place.
But then, Clark did bring up Helen first. Glaring, he met Clark's livid gaze, their two wills clashing in Titanic proportions.
No, they weren't jealous. At all. And if the other occasionally drew attention from another male or female, it wasn't like it upset the other. Of course not. Because they trusted each other, they loved each other, so what did they have to be upset about? Right?
Lex had to repress the familiar urge to see Lois Lane's bones ground up and made into face powder. It really was too bad Lois was Chloe's cousin. So many possibilities were immediately eliminated.
Clark was the first to crack, mostly because his sex drive was the most demanding, either because of age or species, it had yet to be determined. Body softening, face falling into a seductive entreaty, he leaned into Lex and began peppering his shoulder with tender kisses.
"This is silly," Clark murmured between pecks. He reached down, cupping Lex's balls with one hand and stroking his cock with the other. Leaning in, nuzzling cheek against cheek with Lex, he was all affection and accommodation. "I love you. You love me. We can't control if others occasionally...proposition one of us."
He started to jack Lex slowly, his tongue flicking out to nudge Lex's mouth open. Making the kiss as hot and passionate as possible, he didn't draw away until Lex was moaning deeply. Immediately, Lex followed Clark, his own hands reaching, touching Clark's cock. Fingers pressing firmly along the head, tracing along the vein underneath, he started to bend down.
Clark was right. They were being ridiculous, and he'd had a plan when he'd asked Clark out on a date tonight. Ending it with neither of them talking to the other wasn't on the agenda.
Clark apparently had his own plan, however, and blowjobs weren't on it. Clark released Lex, reaching up to stop him. "I want to be in you." Touching Lex's cheek gently, he said softly, "Please."
A surge of desire flooded his system, love beating madly in his chest. Sweet. Clark was so sweet. So pretty.
"Condom," Lex reminded Clark, even as he stroked Clark's arm. He wasn't that easily distracted.
"Five years," Clark groaned plaintively, lower lip starting to push out. "I know you're just trying to take care of me, but five years." He leaned in, rubbing his cheek against Lex's chest, right above his heart. "You know I've never been with anyone else."
"Sweetheart," Lex said, internally wincing even as Clark lit up at the sappy pet name. The things he did. "Safe sex. It's not something to play around with. You know I've...been with others." A very apt way to try not to point out he had more than adequate experience in sex with more than a few different partners. He quickly added before Clark had time to think on this, "As far as I know, I'm clean, and I've always used protection. But all it would've taken was one broken condom. What if my mutation affected me somehow, possibly even mutated whatever STD I might have been in contact with? I could be a carrier for something that we don't have the tests to recognize, and it could be something that could affect you. Don't ask me to play Russian roulette with your health."
"You're fine," Clark insisted, petting Lex's chest. "I know you are. I really, really want this."
Lex hesitated, torn. Rationally, he knew the likelihood of having something was low, as was the likelihood of having something that could affect Clark. Yet, he'd grown up in the safe sex generation, where AIDS and STDs were practically the first thought when even thinking of unprotected sex. It was ingrained into his psyche to always play it safe, but Clark had been asking for this for a while.
A long while. Years, even. All right, if Lex was being honest with himself, he'd asked for it from the very first time. But Lex had held firm.
Maybe it was time to concede. It was a small thing, wasn't it?
Lex gave a small nod, saying reluctantly, "I'll think about it. But not tonight." He cast a dubious eye at the margarine on the bed. Yet, he couldn't really regret the capitulation, since Clark practically glowed at the response. Flashing his brilliant, megawatt smile that made suns seem dim in comparison, the brunette exuded pure happiness.
Feeling a sliver of doubt that maybe he'd been too unreasonable in the past, wondering if he'd actually made his lover unhappy, Lex passively waited on the bed as Clark reached into the night stand and slipped on a condom, buttering up the plastic sheath. Using Luthor determinism, he didn't even wince at the sight of the pale, creamy yellow-smeared cock approaching his ass.
Specifically NOT thinking of what was smeared on Clark's fingers, he forced himself to relax as buttery fingers slipped into his ass, opening him up. He started to get into it, Clark scissoring him open, pretty mouth licking his cock like a lollipop.
Finally deciding that Lex was prepared, Clark took his legs and pulled them onto his shoulders. Lex tensed for half a second before relaxing, and he sighed as he felt Clark pushing into his body. Letting Clark set the pace, he rolled into each thrust, using his own hand to stroke himself.
Losing some of his control, Clark's breathing started to get ragged as he pushing in more frantically, speeding up the rhythm. Fingers tightened on his hips, and Lex knew there would be bruises in the morning. Not that he cared, especially since they'd be gone by the end of the day. Jerking himself harder, almost painfully, he felt a rush of pain-pleasure that made the bruising grip feel erotic. Possessive.
He'd never cared for feeling like a possession or like he was being claimed. Clark was the exception. After their earlier spat, it was apparent Clark was in the mood for some claiming.
Locking his gaze with Clark's, Lex pushed towards him, meeting him to take his lover in deeper, harder. He reached out with his free hand, brushing a stray curl, damp with sweat, away from Clark's brow. The gesture apparently moved him, for the brunette smiled dazzlingly, love shining from his face, which pushed Lex over the edge. Shuddering, Lex came with a shout, semen spilling over his fist. Another hard thrust, Lex squeezing down from his own orgasm, had Clark coming, moaning his release.
Hands petted at sweaty skin, and pulling out of Lex slowly, Clark gently lowered Lex's legs to the mattress. As if Lex was made of the most fragile glass.
Lex's heart clenched, watching Clark, who was always so gentle with him. Not because he was incredibly strong, though that was surely part of it. Not because he thought Lex so weak, so vulnerable. But simply because Clark Kent loved Lex Luthor right down to his mitochondria, loving him so deeply that the idea of hurting Lex made Clark withdraw to a lonely, dark place inside of himself.
Knowing this only made Lex want to reach out, because Clark didn't always understand that it wasn't physical hurts that harmed the most. He did so now, hands stroking along broad shoulders, touching a slim waist and defined pecs. So beautiful. Clark was still the essence of masculine beauty, with the incredible definition and tone of one of the slinky, lean male models that could be found all over New York City.
Not that he knew from firsthand knowledge. Or at least not that he'd readily admit to Clark. He wasn't stupid, after all.
Yes, definitely muscular, yet almost thin in some ways, which was fine with Lex. He'd never have Clark's Kryptonian musculature, like some perfect ideal carved by Michelangelo, but he'd always been on the slender side himself. One more way in which they fit together. Besides, if he were going to attempt a serious relationship with another male, a big bruiser of a man wouldn't have been his first choice, no matter how sexy. Times might be changing, but the business community as a whole, especially in this country, would have discounted him as some effeminate fop if he'd dated some Arnold Schwartzenegger-like meathead.
Again, he was NOT the female in the relationship.
Not that Clark was.
Clark seemed to enjoy the attention Lex was giving him, but he leaned down for a quick kiss before disappearing from the room. Lex heard the water running from the bathroom, so he called out, "Don't forget to clean up our clothes. You remember what happened last time."
It was only five minutes later when Clark flew in, or rather a breeze blew some random clothes about the room, the tub of margarine disappeared, and their clothes were left in a rumpled pile at the foot of the bed. Clark came back thirty seconds later, a damp towel in hand. After cleaning Lex up, landing a sporadic kiss on newly cleaned skin, he threw the towel on the floor and slipped into the bed, pulling the blankets over them.
Lex noted that Clark wasn't in a snuggling mood when the younger man only reached out with his left hand, twining their fingers together. Squeezed softly, green eyes blinking sleepily, Clark whispered, "Good night."
Leaning over, Lex pressed a kiss to Clark's forehead, his lover already half-asleep. Clark always could fall asleep anywhere, at only a moment's notice. "Good night, and sweet dreams." He waited a beat, and then said softly, "Sweetheart."
A slow, drowsy smile slipped across Clark's face, making the concession a victory.
ADDITIONAL NOTES AND AUTHOR CREDIT:
Note III: Lenore wrote a wonderful story called "The Season", a heartwarming, rift-healing story of a future Christmas to come. Not a huge rift, but a small one, and I love how Lenore handled it, as well as the question of whether Lex knows or doesn't know. I borrowed her Snowflake Festival and morphed it into the Snowflake Ball. It's a terrific name for a yearly big city gala, one I'm willing to bet is a real party somewhere in the US, so a huge thanks and nod of credit to Lenore for thinking of such a great name. I highly recommend her story, especially for holiday gladness and CLexy goodness, as one of my all time favorite CLex Christmases. It can be found at http://smallville.slashdom.com/archive/30/theseason.html
NOTE III: Eek! For Lois lovers out there, I didn't mean to disparage or impinge on her character. From Lois' POV, she probably didn't think anything of taking Clark out for a few drinks to loosen him up, possibly to seduce him afterwards. Going out for drinks, trying it get someone drunk enough to say 'yes'...it happens, and depending on the situation and the people involved, some would say it's no big deal. Others would say it's pushing consensual sex right into nonconsensual, as Lex clearly does. Since this is from Lex's POV, we see that he thinks she's a bitch of the first order. We don't know if she meant to loosen Clark's lips or his pants, we only know how Lex interpreted the situation, so Lois fans take heart.
NOTE III: I carefully did not name the college and city the boys are in, leaving it up to your imagination on whether Clark went to Met U, goes the Superman-in-Metropolis route, majors in journalism or astrophysics, etc. I only said Lex is the CEO of LexCorp. He could theoretically run his company from any city in the world, and with his money he could easily fly to Metropolis for LuthorCorp board meetings once a week if he had to.