Disclaimers: If they were ours, there would be regular fashion
shows. Because together, we make at least one straight woman.

Spoilers: None, really.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Summary: Clark wants Lex to explain some of his more eccentric
sartorial choices. In detail.

Authors' Notes: Originally intended for the Pornotopia, but hey,
we got distracted. Now it's for Livia's Bradbury Challenge, because
*somebody* had to porn that sucker up.

Acknowledgments: Te thinks this counts as a little bit more on Miz
E's account, and she also offers it with love to her hardworking
Webrain. Jenn loves Wendi, Beth, and Andy for the porn on demand.
Encouragement of sexual deviancy is always appreciated.

Feedback is almost as good as leather. Especially in *this* heat.
 

*

"Wow, Lex. That's... really a lot of leather."

"Absolutely essential to any rich boy's rebellion, Clark, I assure you.
And you *were* the one who referred to my Hugo Boss three-quarter
length jacket as too -- what was it? 'Stuffy?'"

Clark tosses a smirk over his shoulder. "Anything you wear to the
office on a regular basis is, by definition, stuffy, Lex. C'mon, you're
supposed to be going out and having *fun*. You *can't* wear the
same old clothes you wear every day. It would ruin my father's
image of you as the dissolute rich boy out to destroy everyone's
virtue."

Lex snorts and enjoys the view as Clark walks a little further into
his wardrobe. "I have no idea what I was thinking. Thank God I have
you to save me. Clark, it's just a *party*. I go to those all the time."

Clark ducks his head out of the wall-length wardrobe for a moment.
"Correction: you *used* to go to those all the time. Chloe says Gabe
says you don't *take* days off. Meanwhile, jeez, you could stable
a couple of horses in here..."

"I like to think the leather is of *slightly* better quality than that..."

"I... just can't picture you *wearing* this stuff," Clark says,
fingering a corset.  It's a long, endlessly amusing second that Lex
enjoys before recognition crosses Clark's face with a flash of pure
heat and shock.

Lex hides a smile.  "Any stuff in particular?"

"Well... I mean... isn't this for. Um. Women?" Clark waves the material
as if he expects it to change into something else entirely, something
-- well, not a corset.

Lex tilts his head and carefully removes the corset from Clark's
hands, holding it up.

"Not necessarily. In the right setting--" Quick look at Clark's face.
"Of course. I'm shocking you. Let's--"

"No! I mean, no, I'm -- fine with it. Just -- you know. Smallville. Not
exactly -- uh, leather central and all." If Clark could blush any
harder, Lex thinks, he'd probably turn an interesting shade of purple.

Almost defensively, Clark reaches out and takes it back, holding it
up as if it's some sort of interpretive tapestry. "I just -- it's interesting.
And, um. It has laces."

"Hence the reason it's called a corset." Lex smiles as Clark fingers the
material, obviously completely incapable of wrapping his mind around
the concept. Cute, in that small-town way that Lex is beginning to
enjoy. Hot, too, but neither observation is likely to keep Clark standing
here, fingering leather that, if memory serves, was last utilized during
a particularly interesting party in Chicago.

Clark is still eyeing the thing like a particularly confusing bit of
archaeological trivia. Which it is, in its own way.

Lex can't quite picture being the same person who walked in a room
wearing that, some exquisitely tailored take on Dr. Frankenfurter, and
nothing else.

Can't quite picture *wanting* to.

It's... a little distressing, actually.

"So... how do you get it on?"

Lex blinks. "Hmm?" Focus. He can do that.

"How do you -- put it on?" The blush has somehow managed the
impossible and entered Clark's hairline, and only Lex's extremely
active imagination can guess how far it goes under his sweater,
but -- right. Putting it on. Okay.

"I--" And that's a thought. Letting Clark keep control of the hanger,
Lex turns it, carefully sliding his fingers through the laces, aware
Clark is watching him with an almost painful focus. "It's relatively
self-explanatory, Clark. You untie the laces--"

"Right, right.."  Redder. Amazing.

Lex bites his tongue to keep from smiling. "... slip it on, arrange it
so it falls symmetrically on your chest -- that's the toughest part --
then lace it up again."

Clark is still puzzling at it. "But... how? I mean, the laces are in the
back, too..."

"Those are mainly for show. Once it's fitted, you never undo the
ones in the back." Can't resist. "Unless you want to."

Clark's Adam's apple bobs in a most fascinating way. "Er... and
you've worn this? I mean... in public?"

No holding back the smile. "I have."

There must be a new color in the spectrum to describe Clark right
now. Lex forces himself to keep a straight face, gently removing
the hanger from Clark's unresisting hands, and turns to carefully
put it back. He really doesn't need most of this anymore, but--

"Would--I mean, is it uncomfortable?"

And why does Lex think that's not the question Clark was going
to ask? Turning slightly, he studies Clark, who's very carefully
*not* looking at the corset, or Lex, or in fact, anything but some
random spot on the wall.

"Not really."  Though to be honest, Lex can't exactly be sure of
that -- after all, the point of the clothing isn't comfort.  "It's --
freeing, in a way."

Now he has Clark's gaze, and that's--interesting.  Pretty boy in
his closet, studying his clothes with some strange combination of
naivete and almost -- not hunger, not quite, but it's as close as
Lex can come to a definition. Interest, definitely, and really, who
*would* have guessed?

"Freeing?"

"You know, Clark, we don't have to talk about this."

"About your clothes?" And Clark actually manages a not-quite-
guileless smile before ducking his head and looking away again.

Lex laughs. "Riiight. Okay. Yes, freeing. Because it's the next
best thing to being naked. Better than being naked, because..."
Waits.

There. Clark's looking at him again, eyes wide. "Because?"

"A naked body only answers some of the questions, Clark. A body
in something like..." Lex strokes the leather of the corset, as
invitingly as he can manage. "... this? Answers more."

Clark's studying the leather again, and Lex wonders a little vaguely
if Clark expects actual letters to show up on the material in answer
to -- well, whatever the hell he's thinking. And until this second,
Lex would have said he could read Clark like a book. But --
apparently not.

It isn't the most comfortable feeling in the world, feeling that at
some point in the conversation, Clark has changed identities, or
maybe -- become more of whatever the hell he actually is?

Lex rubs his head. He needs a drink. Badly.

"Why don't we go downstairs and --"

"What do--I mean, what would someone wear with that?"  The
calm, should be so fucking readable yet *isn't* gaze is back on
the corset again. Weighing, measuring, hell, Lex is getting the
impression that Clark's building a visual, and this is-- "Where?
Would you -- someone -- wear it?" Flush still there, granted, but
this is very possibly the last conversation he *ever* expected to
have with Clark Kent, and he's counting the ones that might
start with 'would you like to be sucked off now?'

And now would be a *terrible* time to laugh. Lex curls a finger
around the laces and attempts to look thoughtful. "Well, there are
clubs for this sort of thing, and clubs *within* those clubs. Private
parties, of course." Flicks a glance at Clark and finds him... staring
at Lex's mouth.

Clark blinks, shakes like a particularly shy dog. "Clubs?" His voice
cracks a little.

"Mm-hmm. Most of them are really just places to show off your
tailor's work. Others... aren't."

Another pretty-virgin swallow, and Clark is stroking the leather
constantly now, hand just inches from Lex's own. "No? I mean...
um. I'm guessing. Ah. S&M?"

Ah, a childhood spent with the internet is a beautiful thing. "For
some. Clark --"

Changeable eyes on his own now, focused to the point of
something a little terrible. "For you?"

There's a second where Lex thinks he's going to lie.  It's on the
tip of his tongue, ready to slide out between them and the
awkwardness will fade and they'd go back to -- well, the way
they'd been before the discovery of corsets and another facet of
a questionable past. His father didn't know. Victoria had never
known.

"Yes."

It falls remarkably like a rock between them, and something's
changed, though Lex can't quit focus on what. The closet is still
the closet, Lex is still stroking the leather, and Clark is still in
the room, when any reasonable prediction of this moment would
have said that Clark would leave.

Find an excuse, mumble something unconvincing yet strangely
endearing, and disappear with that truly inspired speed that
always makes Lex just a little curious as to why Clark isn't on the
track team.

But -- Clark hasn't moved, Lex hasn't moved, and the fingers
stroking the leather beside his own are shifting closer with every
breath.

"What -- did you like to do?"

Has to close his eyes for a moment. He could still call this off, he
thinks. Say something cutting about boundaries, but... Clark is
very close. In more ways than Lex had ever expected. Opens his
eyes and Clark looks so *hungry*. God, he has to teach this boy
to lie. Someday. Later. Much later. "It depended on my mood,
really."

Little lines of frustration on Clark's forehead.

"Clark, do you really --"

"I want to know." Blinks like he's shocked himself. "I mean. If
you... I..."

Easy as breath to close that last inch between their hands, to
stroke his thumb over Clark's knuckles. "It's okay. I'll tell you
everything you want to know." And that's... nothing but truth.

Solidified with Clark's sharp inhale. "I want... did you ever let
someone... hurt you?"

"Yes."  He can almost *see* Clark taking that in, though his
expression doesn't change at all.  Little flickers of something
behind the eyes, maybe, the outside impression of whatever
images a teenaged virgin can come up with, but the fingers
under his don't move at all.

And more than any other time in their friendship, Lex wishes he
had some sort of direct line to Clark's thoughts, because this --
this wasn't on the agenda for today.  "Do you want me to be
specific?"

Maybe it's something in his blood, that makes him push so hard,
or maybe it's the way Clark's watching him with that intense
curiosity like something you can *taste*, or hell, maybe it's
Smallville fucking with his head. But.

He strokes a thumb over Clark's fingers and takes a step closer,
until he almost thinks he can feel the heat of Clark's body from
beneath those good boy clothes. Fresh scent of straw and wind
and orange juice from downstairs, jarringly wholesome, and Clark
licks his lips and that's --

Fuck.

"Yeah.  I mean, if you want to tell me."

Clark's still trying to be casual. Or... Lex *thinks* he is, but.
Impossible to be sure. When in doubt, keep pushing. "There are
a lot of ways to hurt someone, you know that, right? Ways to
make sure it isn't permanent, or requiring a trip to the hospital?"

Patently adorable smile. He's going to Hell. "You never go to
hospitals *anyway*, Lex." Clark looks at their hands for a long
moment, looks up again. "But... yeah. I know. Or... I can. Um.
Imagine."

Lex thinks he would surrender his inheritance, or just buy his
father a new heir to see *exactly* what Clark's imagining. "Okay.
So... imagine this: Being tied down. Blindfolded. You can't move.
You can't see. All you can feel is whatever you're tied to, and
whatever... the other person wants you to feel. With me so far?"
God, he could at least *try* to modulate his voice.

"Oh. I... yeah."

Or... no. No he can't. "Good. That's..." Lex licks his lips. Almost
does it again, just to see if Clark's eyes will follow the motion
again. "The leather's cutting into you. Your chest, your ribs... the
laces are as tight as you can get them and still breathe."

"That... that makes it better?"

God. Fuck. *Clark*. "For me."

"Oh. Okay..."

Lex is nodding and he has no idea why. He's beginning to hate
the corset a little. It's *between* them, in a way that's just... very
wrong. "Yeah. So... you're tied. Helpless. You can smell your own
sweat, and leather. The smell of leather is everywhere in those
places. You can smell how aroused you are, and you think
everyone else in the room must smell it, too.

"There's no way to know how many people are there. How many
people are watching this. Watching you."

"Oh God..."

Lex chances another stroke across Clark's knuckles and gets his
hand held for his trouble. Clark's thumb in his palm, pressing tiny
circles and for long moments they're both just... watching.

"More, Lex.  Tell me.  Please."

Soft little plea in his voice, something like desperate and more
like -- wanting? Needing, something, God, and Lex swallows,
wondering when control of this conversation shifted. When he lost
it, or did he ever have it in the first place?  Clark's hand on his,
big eyes waiting for him to answer and he's wondering if it's even
possible *not* to.

"But -- it's like being alone until the first touch.  You don't -- you
can't know where or how it'll happen, and your entire body is --
almost sensitized.

"Ready. And just -- the waiting is the worst part. Sometimes--" and
Clark's fingers are shifting, rubbing harder, almost *gripping*,
mouth a little open, eyes utterly *focused*, like there's nothing on
earth more important than understanding this.  "Close your eyes,
Clark."

Little, shuddering sigh, but they shut, lashes dark on perfect
cheeks, and Lex takes a step closer, letting out a breath on the
warm skin. But -- not touching.  Not yet.

"It's completely dark," he says slowly, keeping his voice low, and
Clark shivers, hand tightening on his. Gently, he pulls his hand
away, watching Clark's hang in the air for an endless moment, before
it slides back down to his side. "You don't know who's around you,
where they are, what they're doing. If they're watching, if they're
not. Completely exposed to them in every way." It's hard to step
back, but he has to or he's never going to be able to stop himself
from touching Clark and that's -- not yet.  Not just yet.

"So you're waiting, and you can feel those eyes like a weight all
over your body. Just -- there. Waiting."

Another step back and God, this is hard. Clark looks like he's just
*this* close to leaning forward, grabbing Lex, and... weirdly, that
makes things a little easier. Because if they're going to do this...

"It's easy to lose track of time with your eyes closed."

"I... yeah. Lex...?"

"For me, these little games had more to do with control than
anything else. How long I could keep from struggling, even though
I knew there was no way out. How much I could quiet my own
breath, my own heartbeats, if only to see if I could *feel* who else
was in the room." Slips his tie off while he speaks, wincing a little at
the small sound it makes as it hits the floor.

Clark doesn't move, doesn't act like he's sensed a thing. There's a
screaming voice in the back of his head demanding to know what
he thinks he's *doing*, but it sounds a lot like his father, so... Lex
smiles and works on his buttons.

"Sometimes the scariest thing -- no. The scariest thing was *always*
the possibility that nothing at all would happen. That they'd leave
me tied. Waiting. Aching."

Clark's eyes shift behind the lids in something like panic, but he
keeps them closed. Bites his lip as if Lex wasn't there watching. God.
Everything. Nothing, no one should be that sexy wearing that many
layers of awful clothing. "Did they... did that ever happen?"

Lex slips his shirt off slowly, trying to minimize the drag of fabric
on skin. "Not to me, but you always heard stories like that. Some
slave left tied up and hard for hours..." Kneels as he speaks, setting
the shirt down carefully and quickly untying his shoes.

"Jesus. Doesn't that kind of... defeat the purpose?" Clark shifts,
hand drifting down the front of his flannel before jerking away fast
and Lex knows he's hard under there.

"*I* certainly thought so, but, well. Chacun a son gout, etc." Lex toes
off his shoes, opens his belt but leaves it in the loops, the leather
would be too loud, too obvious hitting the floor. "But... control.
Testing myself. How long I could keep from begging for touch. Any
touch at all."

"Lex..." Broken sound to Clark's voice and it's almost impossible to
get his pants and shorts down in any kind of subtle way.

His hands are shaking. He can't really blame himself. "On nights
like those... the control was the most important thing. Having it."
Stork-like motions to get his socks off, and not even laughing at
himself is going to make this any easier. "Losing it."

"Oh..." More a moan than a word, and Clark shifts again in obvious
discomfort.

Lex wants to ask about it. Wants confirmation, wants to see what
Clark's eyes would look like when he's hard, but... not yet. Not yet.
"But see... losing control... it couldn't be easy. They had to work for
it. I had to work against it." The corset creaks a little as he picks it
up. "Do you understand?"

"God, *Lex*, that's so..."

"Fucked up? I know."

"I was... I was going to say hot, but okay, that, too."

Lex grins despite himself. This is... not what he'd bought the corset
for. Nothing like it. "Glad you approve." Centers the back-laces
against his spine and holds the thing on with his arms. He used to be
able to do this in seconds.

"What... what made you lose control?"

Lex shakes his head, fumbling at the laces. "It was always different.
When they used their hand instead of the whip. When they whispered
something... dirty into my ear. When I realized just *how* many
hands were on me... always something different." There. Laces even
and started, and this part at least isn't so hard. A quick glance at Clark
and he's... closer.

"Lex... I... are we..."

"Shh, Clark. Hang on. Just another..." Yanks the laces tight and ties
them, gasping, and Clark is reaching out with one shaking hand.
"Okay. Okay..." The snaps for the stockings slap a little painfully, a
little ridiculous against his bare thighs.

"Lex?"

He can't remember the last time he was this hard. Takes Clark's hand
in his own, stroking the palm at the boy's instinctive little jump. "It's
okay. It's okay."

"Can I... God, let me open my eyes, Lex, please..."

"Not yet. Just..." Tugs Clark's hand close, presses it against his hip.

"Oh God..."

Drags it up over the leather, the laces...

"Oh God, *Lex*..."

It's amazing, he thinks, feeling the leather slick against his skin,
familiar and not at all. Too many differences between the person
who wore this before and the one who's wearing it now, but -- not
important. Keeps his hand on Clark's, not moving, not pushing,
letting Clark decide, and it's a decision that's traceable across the
boy's face.

Smooth palm slowly sliding, feeling his way up his body, curious
and hungry and needing. Not anything like he'd expect, then Clark
takes a blind step forward and his other hand is on Lex's face.
Grounding himself, maybe.

Eyes still closed, and there's another jolt, down his spine and into
his cock, that Clark *won't* open his eyes until Lex says he can.

"Imagine," Lex whispers, and Clark jerks, but not away. Fingers
sliding over his chest, finding the laces, fingering the skin just
above the neck. Fascinated and methodical movement, like he's
trying to build a visual in his head, and Lex shuts his eyes.
"Sometimes the touches are so light, I could barely feel them. Like
air, like a tease. Like --"  He has to breathe, has to, with Clark's
hand against his throat, warm and heavy. Down over his shoulder
across his back, finding the leather and making his map.
"Sometimes--"

"Please Lex--"

"Sometimes one place, sometimes several at the same time, I
couldn't ever be sure."  Clark's breathing fast, edge of sweat
appearing on his forehead, and Lex lets his hand on Clark's tighten.
"Anywhere.  Everywhere.  The things they told me they wanted to
do to me. The things they wanted me to do to them.  The ways
they'd use me. How much I'd like it."

Clark's hand is on his hip, tight and hard, digging into bone; Lex will
feel that for days. Weeks, maybe.

"Let me see--"

"... touching my face, my neck, my ass, my cock." And he can't
control his voice, wonders how the fuck he's managed to keep
himself from touching. Tasting.  Staring at Clark's lips, wet and a
little open with each breath. He can imagine how Clark will taste.
Fuck.

"Let me--"

He steps back, a little twist getting him free of Clark's hands,
and the boy almost stumbles. Catches himself with a step forward,
but he doesn't open his eyes.

Lex has never felt so free.

"Clark." The strong chin jerks up and they're both trembling. Lex
forces himself to breathe.  "Open your eyes."

And Clark does, and God, so *bright*. Lit up from within like
every bad metaphor he ever schemed his way out of English
classes to avoid and... focused.

On him. Lex struggles for a deep breath he can't quite get and
Clark's hands are on his chest, pressing, stroking, teasing half-
mindlessly at the top of the corset.

Tugging it away from his chest like he thinks Lex has anything
left to hide and gasping out some small, needy noise as he
traces the rising welts. "Lex. You're so... oh God I have to --"

Brief sucking, promising kiss and Clark's tilting Lex's head back,
mouthing his throat and muttering things that may or may not
be words, hands *restless* on him, everywhere he's covered.

A fetish is born, Lex thinks, and laughs helplessly, chokes on it
when Clark runs his tongue along his collarbone. "Oh fuck,
Clark --"

"Don't. God, don't stop me, please --"

"Fuck. *Fuck*. Wouldn't... dream of it Jesus --"

Clark on his knees, nails digging into the leather and he's *staring*
at Lex's cock. "You're so *hard*..."

"You... you turn me on so much --" So much truth he wants to bite
his own tongue off, but Clark is licking the *leather*, tasting the
lower edge of the corset, pressing his tongue hard against it, hard
enough that Lex can *feel* it. Pressure and heat and his knees
nearly buckle when Clark's hands finally make it down to his ass.

"So smooth, Lex. Lex, oh God, I don't know what I'm *doing* --"

"Whatever you want. You can... you can do whatever --"

Sharp animal noise and Lex manages to focus just fast enough
to see Clark viciously squeezing his own cock through his jeans,
forehead pressed to the front laces of the corset and face twisted
in something like agony.

Lex thrusts forward before he can get control of his hips, painting
Clark's cheek with pre-come and oh God. Drag of skin and stubble.
Torture so incredible, so *good*.

"Lex. Lex you have to be down here with me --"

"Okay --" But the word isn't even out before Clark's tumbled them
both down, getting Lex straddled on top of him, eyes wide and
hands busy, shaking.

"Yeah. Yes, please --"

"Anything," and he means it, God, he means it, as much as he did
in those damned clubs or more. Extremis so close he can *taste*
it, and he can't blame himself for this, he's fought so much harder
than he ever did not to touch, not to take...

Gets his hands on Clark's sweater and struggles with it, arms
tangling with Clark's as he continues to just... *explore*.

"Oh, God. You made me... I didn't know what you were doing, I
thought... I thought you were teasing --"

Laughs a little hysterically. "I *was*."

"That's *teasing*? Putting on a corset is *teasing*?" Shocked
laugh behind Clark's eyes and then he's got Lex's cock in one big,
hot hand. "Then this is teasing, too, right?"

"Oh, *Christ* --"

It's raw, uncomplicated, pure pleasure, and Clark's grin is huge
and a little cracked, his hips rocking up against Lex again and again.
Clark's free hand is on the leather like he'll never get enough of
touching it, feeling it, fingers digging through until Lex wonders if
Clark's fingerprints will show up on the skin beneath.

He can't help leaning down, brushing a wet kiss across Clark's
mouth, sucking his bottom lip.  Bites down hard and gets an
answering squeeze on his cock that's the best kind of pain.

Finally just rips the sweater off, and the t-shirt's an easy jerk over
Clark's head, leaving long golden arms and chest stretched out on
display. No one could blame Lex for leaning back, settling over
Clark's cock and rubbing in, staring at the expanse of flawless skin
and utterly desperate boy writhing under him. Bracing a hand on
Clark's chest and rocking down.

"God, Lex, please--"  Clark's head is thrown back, neck arched
and just gorgeous.  Lex runs his fingers down the strong chest,
barely a ghost of a touch that Clark arches into without hesitation,
moaning softly when Lex ends it at his stomach.

Almost *growling* with the loss, and Lex grins, lightheaded and
so hard he's barely able to concentrate, but he wants to see this.
Huge dark eyes and beautiful face and straining body under the
tightest leash of control.  It won't take much.

"… and soon, I can't stand it," he whispers, stroking his fingertips
back up Clark's chest. "Can't stand to wait for it, for them to touch
me. Have to beg for it, for anything they'll do, anything at all." He
rocks down again, feeling Clark's hand tighten on his cock, another
shock that makes his breath catch, words caught in his throat.
"And they can see it on my face, that second, Clark. That second I
can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel --"

"*Lex* --" Vicious squeeze of his cock, hips bucking into Lex's, and
it's close, so close…

"…when I'll do anything, say anything, whatever they want, however
they want it--"

"Please, Lex--"

"…when I *break*."

There.

Almost *angry* squeeze of his cock, Clark's free hand on his hip
sliding to his back, jerking him over and down, on his knees, barely
catching himself on his elbows before Clark's behind him. Against him.
Helpless thrusts against his ass, mouth fixed on his throat, hands
stroking his chest through the corset, down to his hips and pulling
him back. Just off-balance enough not to be able to react and Clark
groans into his ear and mumbles something indecipherable. Sucking
bite to the back of his shoulder, hard hands on his hips and Clark is
-- *God*...

"Like -- like this?"  Clark whispers, and Lex grins, digging his fingers
into the carpet, experimental thrust toward the floor, but the hold
on his hips is too strong and he can't get anyway.

He could come just from the sound of Clark's voice right now.

"Don't ask. Do it."

"Christ, Lex, you don't even know --"

"That's the *point*."

"So... so fucking *smug* --" And Clark stops rocking his hips, pulls
away for long enough that Lex is starting to regret his tone, but...
Those hands are still on him. Big and hot and hard and. Spreading
him.

"Oh God --" Bites his lip, but Clark only pauses for a moment.
Thumbs in his cleft, rubbing, spreading...

"I can't imagine... you've been fucked before."

It's not a question, but... "Yes. Yeah."

"You... you like that?"

"God yeah --"

And Clark's groan sounds almost *pained*, but he never stops
rubbing Lex's hole. Fascination Lex can feel, just one more connection
in this fucked up game they're playing that's still more real than
anything Lex can focus on right now.

Turns his head and the sight of them in the mirror is enough to make
Lex groan, enough to make *Clark* turn --

"Oh, God..."

And Clark's hands are all over him again, and he's watching himself
touch Lex like he can't believe he's allowed, like it's the best show
on television and it could be canceled anytime. Lips parted, eyes shocky
and dark with want --

"Lex. Oh, God, Lex, look at us..."

"Fuck, Clark..."

Wet, soft mouth on the back of his head, his neck, tracing the edges
of the corset with sucking kisses and Clark is licking between the
laces, stroking Lex with a kind of restless starvation that only pauses
when he tries to move, and then only to hold him *still*.

Achingly hard and *ready* for it, body screaming for more of
everything. Teeth and cock and oh God sweet, sweet tongue slipping
down his cleft as Clark spreads him again.

Wordless, incoherent mutters and hot breath against his hole and Lex
couldn't answer even if he knew the question.

"Please..." His own tongue feels thick in his mouth, dry and useless
and nowhere near as agile as the muscle working him open, working
him slick and helpless and "Clark... so good..."

He takes it as nothing but encouragement, spreading Lex wider,
stroking and squeezing with his thumbs and driving his tongue in
faster, harder. A fuck of pure intent, half-conscious and raw and
just this close to driving Lex insane.

Is this something he'd pictured? At *any* point?

Something Clark thought those nameless, faceless tops had tried
to shock Lex with in all those nameless, shameless clubs? Pleasure
for pain?

Sucking kiss, sudden and hard, and Clark pulls back, shocking a
humiliating whine out of Lex's throat. Making him bite his lip.

"I... *Lex*." Clark sounds desperate enough to kill, pained enough to
feel every hurt he inflicted.

"I said anything, Clark..." Impossible to keep his voice light.

Rough, half-possessive stroke over his ass. "I... I want... I don't
have..."

Lex blanks *hard* for a long moment. He can feel the world's worst
and worst-timed case of the giggles bubbling up at the back of his
throat, because the idea of making their way from here to his
bedroom, or hell, even the limo... it just wasn't going to happen.

But... he'd been planning on going *out* tonight. To a party. Which
meant...

"My pants."

"What?"

Somewhere -- God, somewhere close, please, and Lex gropes out a
hand blindly, feeling soft wool and cotton, the silk of his tie -- closer,
right -- where the *fuck* --

"Lex?"

"My pants. In the pocket." Fuck it, this is utterly insane and if he had
any sense, he'd use this to roll over and put a stop --

"Here." A tangle of black linen falls into Lex's line of vision and there's
a second where he wonders why Clark didn't just get it himself before
he gets an unsteady hand in the pocket. Right, wallet, right --

Little foil packet clutched in his hand, and he has a sudden and
blinding realization of the obvious.

"Clark --" And he turns, breath catching at the sight of far too
much golden skin still covered by too many clothes. Faded work
jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, glimpse of white briefs and it
shouldn't be sexy. Somehow, it still is. "Do you know --"

"Sixteen. Sex Ed." Oh thank God -- Lex isn't sure he's up to
explaining this, and sits up. Rough denim a startling
contrast to silky skin and hard muscle beneath, and Lex is
caught for a second just feeling him. Light, rough hair on
Clark's stomach and he's panting, flushed, beautiful, and Lex
breathes out sharply.

Just gorgeous.

Easy to pull the jeans and shorts down -- slim hips and flat
stomach and hard cock, and Clark's almost shaking, hands
clenched into fists at his sides. Lex  gentles him with palms
down his thighs, easing the material down, looking up to see
the dark eyes shut tight, mouth in a hard line of pure want.

"Take them off." Because there's  something silly right this
second about jeans around the knees that Lex's mind simply won't
fix on. Clark nods jerkily, sitting back to untie the boots, *snapping*
the laces. A few awkward and fascinating movements spill socks
and jeans onto the floor beside them, and Clark's staring at him
with something that's bordering close to panic.

Like nudity isn't something pretty much required for this sort of
activity.

"Lex --"  Hands half-coming up in belated recognition of the fact
he's naked in front of another person without a shower in sight,
and Lex catches himself smiling and forces it away. Not now. Oh
God, the very apotheosis of not now, and he runs the tips of his
fingers over Clark's hip, feeling the shudder of skin, and Clark
closes his eyes.

"Clark." Waits for him to open his eyes, then grins, getting up on
his knees, letting the condom fall somewhere easily findable, say,
right beside them, and closes his hand around the stiff cock
that's begging for attention. Which Lex is more than happy to
provide.

"*Fuck*--" He even sounds pretty *saying* it. Shaky indrawn
breath and big hands close over his shoulders, kneading into the
skin and bone, and the kiss is startling hard, all teeth and tongue
and the iron-sweet edge of blood, and Lex sucks Clark's lower lip,
shuddering himself as Clark's hands skim the leather, finding his
ass like it's a surprise it's there at all, then a jerk that brings them
body to body and Lex sucks in another breath at the feel of his
cock against Clark's thigh. Fuck. He's not going to last long at all.

"Shh." Gentles him, wrapping thick hair between his fingers, silky
soft, just perfect, another kiss. "What do you want?"

The cock in his hand jumps, and Lex circles the damp head with
his thumb, feeling Clark's shudders, and watching the almost
desperate look in his eyes before a finger slides into the cleft of
his ass and sex-ed in Kansas he will never, ever mock again.

"I want to -- let me --"  Little sounds, and just the *thought* of
Clark asking makes Lex thrust against him.

But the thought of Clark *taking*... Lex leans in and kisses Clark
slowly. Thoroughly. Holds his head still when he *feels* the boy
abruptly remember where his mouth had been -- and Christ, Lex is
seriously considering taking up kidnapping -- and kisses him a little
harder until Clark relaxes in his arms.

Until Clark moves to hold Lex in return, at which point he turns
around.

Gives Clark his back.

Leans into that long, lean chest and turns his head until he can whisper
into Clark's ear. Feel the shivers against his mouth. "Push me down."

"Oh. Oh, *fuck* --"

"Yeah..."

And Clark doesn't wait, just grabs him by his artfully artificial waist
and... pushes. Forward and down. Long, slow stroke up the center of
his back and there's a big, hard hand on the back of his neck.

Holding him down.

"Is this... oh God, Lex, this is so hot..."

And Lex can't find words anymore. *Clark's* hand, *Clark's*
undeniable, implacable strength pushing him down into the
oh-so-plush carpeting and holding him there and Lex feels...

Ruined.

Spoiled.

This is nothing he couldn't get in Metropolis and so much more
than anything else, ever, even with no concept of control he's
ever been familiar with so much as even *entering* the room.
It's just this. Just them.

Just Clark's shaky hand on his neck, forcing Lex to face the mirror,
to see them both like this, stretched out, sprawled out, bent and
hard and *hungry*, and, oh, yes, he can beg for this.

"Please, Clark..."

Shocked little gasp, and Clark is squeezing the base of his cock
*hard*, shifting between to give his balls a vicious little tug that
makes Lex ache in sympathy, but... he never lets go of Lex's neck
with his other hand.

And he squeezes a little.

"S-say it, Lex."

"Oh fuck..."

"I want to hear you say it. What you want." And Clark's voice is so
low, so... adult would be pushing it, and pushing hard, but...

Should it be such a surprise? Clark's a smart boy, and Lex has told
him -- *given* him -- everything today. Everything. Lex feels himself
flushing and it just makes him harder. "Fuck me. Please. Fuck me,
Clark."

Hand on his ass, thumb in the cleft. Seeking, finding. Stabbing little
pushes that make Lex pant, try to roll his hips back for more. "Say it.
Say it again."

"Oh God, Clark, *please*... fuck me, I need --"

"Jesus -- oh God, Lex, you're so sexy --" And Clark's hands are gone
for just long enough for Lex to get up on his elbows before the
crackle of foil registers and Clark is spreading him again. Moaning.
"God, need to be in you..."

"Yeah... yeah, okay..." Lex can't bring himself to care about
incoherence, just jams two fingers into his mouth until they're wet
enough to work with. Reaches back and pushes *in* -- "just have
to... open up a little..."

"God, oh God yeah --"

Wet sounds behind him and Clark's brushing his fingers aside,
replacing them with two of his own. Long fingers. *Big* fingers.
Thick and strong and the stretch has Lex groaning, mouth open and
just wet with it.

"So tight..."

"*Clark* --"

Sharp *twist* inside him and Lex hears himself make a noise he
can't classify. Christ. Fuck. Kid's a fucking natural...

"Push... push up -- oh fuck *yes* -- "

Doesn't have to tell Clark to do it again.

Again.

Watches through hazed vision as his reflection pushes back on that
good, strong hand, as Clark focuses on his ass like it'll disappear
if he blinks. So fucking good. "Lex..."

"Yeah, do it... now, do it now..."

He's not sure the words ever actually get air before Clark's shifting,
blunt, hot pressure to his ass, and he shivers, can't help it, because --
how the fuck long has it been, anyway? There's a second of almost
hysterical amusement, before the strong hand on his neck tightens
and Clark starts *pushing*.

Rush in his ears, the stretch *amazing*, and God, he forgot how
*good* this feels. Sharp stretch, they didn't prepare enough but what
the fuck, Lex has done more with less. And Clark's -- so slow, so
careful even now, it's enough to make him grin, a low and
appreciative moan finding the air and this is --

"Lex, I --" Little caught breath and in a just universe, Clark would
be doing this a hell of a lot harder. Bracing his hands against
the floor, only semi-aware that Clark's making some noise about
hurting him, Lex pushes *back*--

*Yes.*

"*Fucking* hell --" No idea who says it, just the sheer *burn* of it,
bright and sharp and grounding and so good Lex's cock jerks,
spitting pre-come and he's so hard it aches. There's a desperate
sound behind him, fingers scrabbling on leather, finding his hips,
the pressure in his neck gone and it's only a second before Clark
*thrusts*.

"Oh God, Lex, you're so -- so *tight*…" The words trickle off like
Clark's ran out of air, and Lex blinks away the shock, still feeling it
when Clark pulls out -- painfully empty, can't have that -- then
another thrust back in. Not fast enough, not hard enough, but --
God, yes, *doing* this, hands growing more sure, more steady,
endless pressure Lex can wallow in with perfect contentment.

Hard, strong hand closing over his cock, squeezing hard enough to
hell, maybe bruise, and Lex sucks in a startled breath at the next
rough thrust.

*Claws* at the carpet at the next.

And the next.

"Can't... hold back. God, sorry --"

And he'd laugh if he could, but -- *Christ* -- Clark's fucking everything
remotely coherent out of him. Nothing but sound left. Noise. Noises.
Punched out with every long, perfect stroke, and it's so good Lex thinks
he could die from this.

Every old joke, every stupid cliche and it's all right *here*. He can
barely remember how to breathe, and every time Clark drives in the
knowledge becomes desperately unimportant.

So hot. Sweating with it despite the air-conditioned cool of the room,
despite his own near-nudity, and Clark's hands on his hip, on his cock
have their own special burn. Melting right through him.

"Lex... oh God -- Can't believe how good..." Trails off into a
hurt-sounding moan and Clark squeezes his cock again, strokes it
awkwardly once, twice, and Lex has just enough time to be
shocked at himself before --

"*Christ* --"

-- he's coming *hard*, shooting all over Clark's fist, the carpet, the
corset, fuck, everything.

And Clark just *freezes*, balls-deep and shuddering so hard Lex can
feel it even through his own orgasm, and for a moment he thinks
Clark came, too, but --

"Can I -- have to --" And Clark's *lifting* him. Pulling Lex back against
his chest and spreading his thighs over his own, locking one strong
arm around his chest and oh, God, fucking his way back *in*.

"Oh God oh fuck --" *Deep*. And solid and thick and surrounding him,
and in this position Clark can pet the stained leather as much as he
wants to. Mouth Lex's throat and mutter incomprehensible nothings
into his ear and just *grind* his way up and in.

In.

In.

"Want you, Lex..."

In.

"... jerked off before I came over..."

In. "Clark..."

"Never thought you'd let me..." Closer to a growl than language.

In.

"... don't wanna stop..."

Steady burn through his ass, like Clark's finding new areas to reshape,
and God, he's *never* been fucked like this. Aftershocks still
shuddering through his body, and he may never remember how to
breathe naturally again.  Somehow gets a hand up, back, silky hair
under his fingers, pulling Clark down into a sloppy kiss that brings a
fresh taste of blood and a warm, wet tongue that fucks his mouth as
ruthlessly as Clark's cock fucks his ass.

He's going to be feeling this for *weeks*.

"Come on," he hears himself whisper roughly, tilting his head further,
sweaty skin, rough stubble against his face and he rubs into it without
thinking. "Watch yourself."

Clark's eyes flicker up, get caught again, and Lex follows, blur of
movement he has to watch. Black leather and pale skin and gold,
tangled in an indecent heap of sweat and movement. Little gasp,
harsh and almost pained against his shoulder, another hard thrust
that makes Lex ache all over, and then teeth dig into his shoulder,
quick and pain-bright before pulling back and another low groan.

"Clark -- come on --" Fingers on his nipple, twisting sharply, and
there's a terrifying possibility he's going to get hard again, another
kind of pain that's -- oh God, fuck, *fuck*, too sensitive, too soon,
and it's not like he's getting a choice. His throat feels raw and the
taste of blood's stronger, only occurring to him now that he's
biting into his own lip and he chokes on a broken laugh, digging his
nails into the back of Clark's neck with the next too-solid thrust.

*Can* a person be fucked to death?  Lex is willing to find out.

"God, Lex, so sexy--" Almost desperate edge to Clark's voice, frantic
movement, rhythm fragmenting for something more instinctive and
more jarring, and Lex gasps at the pressure, at Clark's hand on his
stomach, scratching at the leather, dropping farther, closing over
his cock. A little moan that almost hurts to hear and Lex can't even
be sure which one of them made the sound.

"...*hard*, Lex, God…."

Like it's such a fucking shock. Lex chokes back another badly-timed
laugh and the hand around his cock's so good it *hurts*, sharp, too
sharp, and Clark's teeth close over his ear too hard, and there's a
wonderful chance Lex has been looking for this his entire life. Too
much, too fast, blinding, and Clark makes a sound that isn't human,
can't be anything *close* to human, convulsing inside him with a
groan that shakes them both. Hot, fast rush inside, and Lex
breathes out, shuddering almost as violently as Clark, unable to see
anything but the incredible obscenity of their reflection in the mirror.

Naked, glistening golden boy wrapped around and buried deep around
pale, bald, bleeding perversity.

Lex smiles bloody at his reflection and isn't surprised by the twitch
of his cock.

Or by the way Clark grabs it and squeezes with an apparently
reflexive possession. Conflicting urges to purr and flinch. Too soon
for this *and* too late to stop it. Lex threads his fingers between
Clark's own, urges him to loosen his grip. A little.

Moans at the flex of Clark's cock inside him and has to turn away
from the mirror again.

"God, Lex... show me. Show me how you do it."

Nothing to do but nod, get a better grip on himself and Clark's hand
and just -- go for it. Let his head fall back on that broad shoulder
and enjoy the shallowness of his breaths, Clark's impossibly heavy
gaze on their joined hands.

Stroking himself off for an audience.

Not the first time -- not even close -- but Clark makes it feel
impossibly new. Like something invented just for them. Every
little twist, every squeeze, every increase in speed something
that's never been done before.

And it's true. Because this is their *first* time. And Lex knows
himself well enough to know just how many federal and moral
laws he'll be willing to break to make sure it won't be their last.

And God, Clark still *inside* him. Nestled in close, buried in tight,
barely softening at all and matching Lex stroke for stroke and his
vision's going hazy again.

*Mind* going hazy again, and he can't stop himself from rolling his
head back and forth on Clark's shoulder. Harder to breathe, now,
and every breath catches on a helpless little moan low in his chest
that makes him flush despite himself.

"So sexy..."

Jerks at the sound of Clark's voice, and it's getting harder to keep a
rhythm, harder to *want* to, but now Clark's holding him to it.

Not a tease so much as... he has no idea.

"Clark..."

Wet, sloppy kiss to his throat that turns to a suck and Clark lets
them go faster, harder. Lex can't stop himself from pumping
into the sweet tunnel of their fists and doesn't bother to try.

So good. So *good*.

"Wanna -- hear you."  Clark's voice is thick, almost a growl,
punctuated with a sharp bite that goes straight to Lex's cock.
"Tell me how it feels." Little shudder in the big body against
him, like he's feeling this too.

"Fuck you," Lex breathes, almost grinning, licking the taste of
sweat off his mouth, laced with blood and, fuck, that only
seems to be encouraging him. Clark groans, teeth digging into
bruised muscle. Faster rhythm and it's just. Fucking.
Unbelievable. "Good."

"More." Slick movement of warm lips, scrape of teeth beneath,
fixing  under his jaw and the sharp bite tightens up nerves
already shot to hell. Lex's fingers tighten involuntarily and his
cock jerks, and he's never, ever going to be able to not see
this when he jerks off alone from now on.

Not that *that's* going to be a concern if he has his way.

"Good," he says again, and understatement's the only thing he can
think. "Great. Bastard. You -- *fuck* -- know that. Feel it." Painful
tightening of his body, so close he can feel it coming, any second
now, just -- God, soon, or he'll go crazy. Completely unable to look
away, watching Clark jack him with those casual flickers of his wrist,
big fingers wrapped through his, cock sliding through, and that's --

-- just --

"Can you fuck me next time?"

-- *right* in his fucking ear with a thick, wet tongue and Lex's body
gives up. Shuddering pound of orgasm through his body, exquisitely
painful and he collapses, no other word for it, dark and huge
everywhere except in his mind that's showing him Clark, naked,
hands and knees in front of him and all the things he's going to do
to that body.

All the things it's going to do to him.

Consciousness eases back with a general report that he's not ever
moving again. Carpet rough and blessedly not-moving against his
body, hot skin wrapped around him like a blanket, and the slow,
languorous awareness of Clark pulling out.

He's missing it already. Little hiss that he can't help, and Clark's
fingers drop down, hesitating over super sensitized skin, petting
gently like he's suddenly aware of the fact that most flesh really
isn't' meant for that kind of activity for *that* long. Grinning,
knowing it's going to kill him and not really caring, Lex stretches,
rolling over, and God, it hurts, and God, it's good. So good.
Years. He's going to feel this for *years*.

Gets a clear vision of bare, sweaty, flushed skin and worried
eyes, swollen lips slightly parted, and Lex grins.

"Okay?" Clark asks, and that would be -- such an affirmative. Yes,
okay. Fucking yes, okay. Fabulous, thank you. Toby's on speed
dial three, go call him now. I want to do this again and I'm going
to need him afterwards.

No, still not a good time to start laughing. Dammit.

Instead he reaches up, running his fingers across that impossibly
soft mouth, and Clark nips his fingers, worry fading. "You look..."

"Incredibly well-fucked?"

And Lex can't believe Clark has the nerve to blush at that, much
less give him *that* look through his lashes. "I was going to say
'good,' Lex."

"Kind of vague, don't you think?"

Clark rolls his eyes. Looks like he's considering giving Lex's fingers
a considerably harder bite for a long moment before looking Lex
over entire. Stopping at his cock, his belly, and his mouth before
reaching his eyes.

Slow, sly smile. "So you're still taking that day off tomorrow,
right?"

End.