Clark
paused in the doorway of Lex's study and watched unseen as his friend paced
back and forth in front of the fireplace, talking to himself. Everything about
Lex seemed just a little more exaggerated than usual - his gestures overly
expansive, his words coming out a little slurred despite the too careful
enunciation. Unless Clark was much mistaken, Lex was drunk, or at least well
on his way to it. A quick glance around the room revealed several empty
bottles, adding to the evidence.
Based
on past experience, Lex usually only relinquished control over his faculties
like this when he'd had an especially difficult encounter with his father or
when someone had tried to kill him - on a particularly bad day, maybe both.
"Clark,
come in, join me!"
Apparently,
on his latest turn across the floor, Lex had noticed Clark lurking by the
door. He raised a half empty glass towards him in salute. The firelight caught
in the depths of the dark red liquid as Lex brought the glass to his lips and
took a long drink from it.
Clark
approached cautiously, wondering what exactly had prompted Lex to indulge to
this degree; and he wasn't done yet.
Reaching
down, Lex picked up an uncorked bottle from the floor and used it to top up
his drink once more. That done, he turned and, taking both bottle and glass
with him, walked across to the couch. Seating himself, Lex put the bottle back
on the floor by his feet. Then he patted the space beside him on the couch,
inviting Clark to sit too.
When
Clark did so, Lex shot him a smile that was a shade too bright before toasting
his presence with another sip of his drink.
"It's
good to see you, Clark," Lex said as he set the glass down on a side
table. "Good wine, a friend... now I have everything I could wish
for."
"Are
things okay, Lex?" Clark asked carefully. He watched as Lex sprawled back
against the cushions with something less than his customary grace. "You
seem a bit..."
"Drunk,
Clark?" Lex suggested when Clark hesitated. The amusement was clear in
his voice. "Don't you approve?"
Clark
looked down at his hands which he'd folded together in his lap.
"It's
not that," he said finally. "Just... you usually only do this when
something's wrong." He slanted a glance at Lex who was looking back at
him with an expression he couldn't quite place.
"How
very astute of you," Lex observed dryly.
He
moved with surprising speed considering his obvious inebriation. Lex turned
and slid forward until he was sitting with his knees brushing against Clark's
leg.
"So,
do you have any theories as to what might have happened?" he asked,
sounding honestly curious.
Lex
looked up at Clark from under lowered lashes. That look was oddly coy. It
seemed that even Lex's habitual tendency to flirt with him was exaggerated
when he was drunk, Clark found himself thinking.
He
swallowed hard when one of Lex's elegant, strong boned hands slid from where
it had been resting loosely in his lap to take up residence on Clark's thigh.
He tried not to notice the way the heat from it bled through his jeans to the
skin underneath, or the casually possessive strength in the way it glided
upwards from his knee. Instead, Clark tried to concentrate his attention on
the question Lex had asked. Theories, Lex had said something about theories.
"Did
your dad do something?" Clark said in a sudden rush as Lex's fingers
ventured further into dangerous territory.
The
hand tightened convulsively on Clark's thigh for a second and then withdrew,
as did Lex.
"It
seems you know me far too well, Clark," Lex said, his voice harsh under
the blurring of the alcohol. "I never meant to become so
predictable."
Turning
away, Lex snatched up his glass and downed the contents in one before slamming
it back on the table with a sharp crack that seemed to reverberate around the
room. Lex swore under his breath, pulling away abruptly as the broken shards
scattered on the table top.
Clark
gasped, reaching out to catch hold of Lex's hand as a jagged line of red
beaded up on his pale skin.
"Lex,
you cut yourself," he said a little unnecessarily as he tugged at Lex's
wrist, trying to get more light to see the wound by.
"It's
nothing." Lex had gone very still when Clark grabbed hold of him and his
eyes were dark and shadowed when they looked up to meet Clark's. "I've
had far worse."
"I
didn't mean to make you hurt yourself," Clark said awkwardly. He was
nursing Lex's injured hand in his lap, making no effort to let go.
"Is
there anything that you don't try and take the blame for?" Lex asked
wryly. He sounded far more sober now, as if the accident had shocked him out
of his intoxication. "It's not your fault, Clark. I was careless, but
it'll heal soon enough."
"Do
you have some Band-Aids or something?" Clark asked, casting his eyes
around the study. "And shouldn't I clean the wound to make sure there's
no glass in it?"
"I'm
sure I have some somewhere, but this will be fine without," Lex assured
him. "It barely scratched the surface so there's nothing to worry
about."
Lex
tilted his head until it rested against the back of the couch, but his gaze
never left Clark's face. All at once, there was an intensity in his eyes that
made Clark's breath catch in his throat and he couldn't look away. It was only
when Lex's free hand returned to its former place on his thigh that Clark was
able to drag his attention back down, watching as the long fingers splayed out
across the faded denim of his jeans.
The
change in focus also reminded Clark that he was still holding Lex's other hand
in his lap, palm up. The cut was only bleeding a little now, but the line of
red stood out starkly against the smooth skin around it.
The
other thing Clark had failed to notice until then was the way that his fingers
were rubbing gentle circles on Lex's upturned wrist. He could almost have
convinced himself that the gesture was purely comforting, not at all sensual,
were it not for the continuing heat of Lex's gaze on him. Added to that was
the steady pressure of Lex's hand on his leg, a touch that Clark couldn't in
any way describe as merely soothing, especially not when Lex cupped his
fingers around his groin and squeezed carefully.
Clark
groaned, feeling his cock twitch and stiffen.
"Lex,
please," he said, his voice sounding oddly desperate in his own ears.
As
if his words were some kind of signal, as soon as he spoke Lex moved, sliding
closer to Clark so that their legs were pressed together from knee to hip.
Then he leaned in and his lips slid warmly against Clark's skin, tracing a
path from his ear, down the side of his neck and then along the line of his
jaw.
When
Clark turned towards him, he could feel the heat of Lex's breath gusting
against his mouth.
The
fingers at Clark's crotch squeezed again and the heel of Lex's hand pressed
down onto his hardening cock. Clark gasped at the sensations that flooded
through his body and his lips parted
automatically. Lex wasted no time in leaning forward and claiming his willing
mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. Clark sucked on the tongue thrusting against his
own, tasting the flavour of Lex mixed with the sharper, fruity tang of the
wine he'd been drinking.
Clark
finally let go of Lex's wounded hand, needing to touch more of his friend. As
he did, Lex curled his fingers protectively over the cut palm. Then Lex hooked
his newly freed arm around Clark's neck, using it to hold him in place while
he continued fucking Clark's mouth with his tongue.
Needing
more pressure on his aching cock, Clark hauled Lex bodily into his lap. Lex
seemed happy with this new arrangement, shifting until he was straddling
Clark's thighs. Clark sighed his approval into Lex's mouth. They rocked
together, Clark thrusting his hips forward until he could feel the hard ridge
of Lex's cock pressed against his own.
A
small part of Clark's brain wondered what the hell he thought he was doing.
Lex wasn't entirely himself. He'd clearly been drinking heavily, apparently
trying to forget some new scheme of his father's meant to hurt him or
frustrate his plans. All of which meant that this couldn't possibly be a good
thing. Or, at the very least, it was a good thing done for the wrong reasons.
Regardless,
Clark's body was overruling that tiny voice, telling him how marvellous this
felt, how right, and he couldn't find it in himself to stop. Added to which
was the image of the intense looks Lex had been giving him. The dance was
nothing new between them, they'd simply never followed the steps this far
before.
As
if he were reading Clark's mind, Lex suddenly pulled away from him. His lips
were red and swollen, tempting, as he whispered, "Stop thinking about
this, Clark, just let it happen."
Clark's
hand cupped the back of Lex's head, holding him still while he looked at him
seriously. "Am I taking advantage, Lex?"
Lex
smiled, his teeth flashing white. "More guilt, Clark?"
He
ground his hips down against Clark's, making him buck up into the pressure.
"If
you are, then so am I," Lex murmured as he buried his face in the crook
of Clark's neck, lapping at the sweaty skin. "But I prefer to give us
both the benefit of the doubt. I think we're doing this because it feels good,
don't you?"
"Yes..."
Clark's voice broke on the word as Lex sucked at his Adam's apple. "God,
Lex!"
The
sensations were finally too much and Clark felt the rush of orgasm sweeping
through his body. He pulled Lex to him so that he could rub their cocks
together, intensifying the pleasure as he came.
Lex
leaned back so that he could watch Clark's face.
"So
beautiful," he said, his voice husky.
Clark's
cheeks flushed at the compliment and at the sudden realisation that he'd just
come in his pants, the warm wetness making his jeans and boxers cling to his
skin.
For
his part, Lex didn't seem to care. Indeed, he seemed set on adding to the
sticky mess as he thrust his hips against Clark in a hard, fast rhythm that
didn't falter until his own climax took him.
Clark
watched, fascinated by the beatific expression that crossed Lex's face. He
slid a hand between them, pressing it to Lex's crotch until he felt the pulses
of wet heat soaking through the expensive
fabric of Lex's pants.
"Wow!"
he murmured, almost awestruck at the sheer intimacy of doing this with Lex.
Lex
collapsed against him, breathing hard. He managed a soft chuckle at the near
reverence of Clark's comment.
"That
good, huh?" he asked, his voice warm with affectionate amusement.
"Better,"
Clark replied with a pleased sigh as he pulled Lex into a more comfortable
position, away from the wet spot in his lap.
Lex
rested his head on Clark's shoulder before glancing down at his injured hand.
It had finally stopped bleeding, the blood smeared just a little where it had
clotted on his palm. Noticing what he was looking at, Clark carefully covered
Lex's hand with his own, stroking gently.
"This
is definitely a much better antidote to my father's poison than getting drunk
by myself," Lex said a while later. He sounded tired.
"Is
that the only reason you did it?" Clark asked in a small voice. He knew
he was acting every inch the insecure teenager, but he couldn't help it.
"It
was one reason," Lex replied honestly, "but not the only one."
When
Clark remained silent, Lex brushed a soft kiss against the sweat damp skin of
his throat.
"I'd
like to do it again," he added. "Some time when I haven't drunk too
much wine. Maybe then we'll actually manage to get our clothes off before we
come," he finished, amusement once more colouring his tone.
"We
are kind of sticky," Clark admitted. The wet cotton was cooling and
starting to feel uncomfortably clammy.
"I
can hardly send you home like that, can I?" Lex said, sliding out of
Clark's lap and onto feet that were only a trifle unsteady. He glanced down at
his own stained pants. "I think we both could use some cleaning up."
Lex's
smile was inviting as he turned and headed towards the door, the pointedly
sexy sway of his ass even more so. Clark swallowed hard, wondering again
exactly what he was getting himself into. The renewed throb of his cock seemed
to answer that question and Clark didn't need to be asked a second time as he
got up and followed Lex from the room.
--End--