I made myself a nice icon for the next time I need to indulge in my self pityness.
She seems appropriate, don't you think?
Earlier sections can be found at http://seperis.illuminatedtext.com/smallville/somewhere.html.
There's soda, not wine, because Clark's really never developed a taste for beer. Lex doesn't even look surprised that it comes in big plastic containers when Clark sits it on the coffee table. And he knows Lex loves pizza, so that's okay.
All in all, pretty damn successful, sitting on the ratty old couch, watching a movie like they're any two people in the world.
"I never pegged you for a 'The Bridges of Madison County' type of guy," Lex remarks, pulling out a string of cheese as if he's contemplating the physics behind it. "Don't tell me. You used this in college."
"You'd be surprised how easy it is to get dates if you ask when you're holding a copy of it," Clark remarks. "It's a good movie." Lex rolls his eyes, biting off the string. "Okay, what did you use?"
"My name," Lex answers, pulling off another sting of cheese from the top of his pizza, ignoring the crust. He's done that to three pieces so far. "You'd be surprised how easy it is to get dates when the word 'Luthor' is used in a sentence."
"Huh. I always thought it was the cars."
Lex flashes him a grin. "That's good, too."
Clark snickers and puts down his plate, watching Lex finish stripping the pizza of all signs of life, leaving a bare and kind of pathetic dough leftover in his hand. "Are you off tomorrow?"
Lex frowns, dropping the crust on his plate and licking his fingers absently. It's really too sexy. "I can be, I suppose. Why--"
Lex tastes like tomato sauce and too-sweet cola when they kiss, messy and fast, and wet fingers slide the length of Clark's cheeks before stopping in his hair and holding on. Making out on the couch with Lex Luthor. Even better when Lex kicks the coffee table when he turns to get his hands on Clark's skin, knocking off the plate, spilling soda on his pants, and Lex never even notices.
Clark pulls away to laugh, licking the sauce from the corner of his mouth. "You're--sticky."
"I like sticky."
The ring of the phone narrow Lex's eyes, and he looks like he's contemplating a hostile takeover of the telephone company before sighing and shifting back, watching Clark lean over to answer.
There's a horrifying moment of remembering that he owes his parents a *lot* of phone calls by now.
"Clark?" Lois. Oh thank God. Clark wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and settles down, trying to straighten his shirt.
"Lois. Hey." He tries to think, glancing over at Lex, who is watching him through opaque eyes, like he's contemplating how Clark will look covered in pizza sauce. "Um, this isn't the best time--"
"Reel it in, hotshot. I'm flying out to Atlanta."
Lois' voice is some combination of excited and worried--he's not sure which.
"Jimmy's still partying with his contacts, no doubt, and I want the information now. Easiest way is to go myself."
"Tomorrow is Sunday. Even you don't work every Sunday." At least, he's pretty sure she doesn't. When was her last day off, anyway?
"Stories wait for no one--"
"Oh good God, spare me the spiel. What did you find out?"
"Nothing." Clark's instantly suspicious. "Nothing interesting, anyway. But my contact gave me the name of her old college professor, former expert on such random things as theoretical astrophysics. A man who does not like Rhinestadt much for his LexCorp associations, let me add."
"Nice." Really nice, actually. "Okay. You want--"
"I want you to take a day off and go see your parents. My voicemail is tired of being full." Clark flushes. "But first, I want you to talk to the Fortress and make doubly sure those calculations are right. Right down to size. Email me tomorrow morning--I don't have time to look at anything tonight. I want to face Professor Stephenson with everything we've got."
Clark shudders at the thought of his parents. "Sure. Be careful. Call me tomorrow night."
"You're on." The phone clicks off--from the background noise, he's guessing that she called from the airport. With a sigh, Clark puts the phone back, rubbing a hand absently through his hair. When he looks back, Lex's eyes are fixed on his mouth. "She's--very energetic."
"I'm aware." The blue eyes flicker up, catching his. "What's wrong?"
"I forgot my parents."
The slow grin is completely wrong, as far as Clark's concerned. "Forgot?"
"Um. Ignoring. Very successfully, too." Sighing again, Clark slumps into the couch. "I--sent email. To Mom. To tell her I'm working on something important. For some reason, that just didn't seem to cut it."
"No surprise." Lex watches him carefully. "You should probably talk to them."
"Yeah." He probably needs to go to Smallville. Newly vulnerable son was stressing enough for Mom--adding in the entire Lex thing probably isn't going to help much. Or at all. Breathing out, Clark picks up his soda and takes a drink, assaulted by the novel idea of wishing for it to be spiked. "I--"
"Do you want me to go with you? To see your parents?"
Oh, how many ways is that a bad idea? "Are you going to Smallville for some reason?"
Lex looks thoughtful. "Actually, I was supposed to last week. The plant had an inspection and the new manager was supposed to implement some new safety protocols." Right. LexCorp owns God alone knows how many different plants, businesses, and sundry, but the former Plant #3 in Smallville is the unfortunate recipient of a lot of Lex's very carefully repressed nostalgia. And attention. Lots and lots of attention.
Clark thinks of his car, which hates drives of all kinds, considers the fact that running is now a really bad joke, and then look at Lex. "You mind giving me a lift?" Yes, this will comfort his parents. Yes, this is a bad idea. Under that though, there's that flicker of excitement, anticipation, and right, nostalgia. He and Lex haven't been together in Smallville since they were both kids. Grinning a little, Clark glances over, dismissing uncomfortable thoughts of Dad's face. Lex has one elbow bent up on the back of the couch, head resting lightly on his hand. He's smiling back like he's thinking of them in Smallville, too.
"Not at all."
Clark glances around the apartment briefly, then at the door. There's a flicker of longing for x-ray, just to see how Mercy and Hope are making themselves comfortable in his building. How the other residents might be coping with seeing them pace the halls like caged cats.
"Clark?" Softer, and Clark looks at him. "Come here."
Clark grins when he sits up, crawling the short length between them, watching the blue eyes flare in sudden heat. Straddling the long thighs, Clark settles himself, bracing both hands on the back of the couch, leaning forward, close enough for their foreheads to touch. Warm hands settle on his hips, lining them up, and Lex lets out a slow breath when Clark presses down lightly, just enough to feel how hard Lex is beneath the soft material of his pants. Just enough to make himself shiver, closing his eyes at the little flares of sensation skating down every nerve.
"I'll compromise on the apartment," Clark murmurs, feeling Lex's breath hitch, and leans down enough to draw his tongue gently over the tip of his ear.
"Did compromise." Lex's hands skate up his sides gently, then slide around, fixing on his back, pressing in. "End of the month."
"I'll give you a key to this one and you give me more time." Clark lifts his head, looking down, grinning at the frown.
"Do you have any idea of the crime rate in this part of the city? Not to mention the prostitution and the…."
"Mmm." Catches Lex's mouth in a wet kiss, drawing back to see the hazy arousal fighting pure Luthor obstinance. "You own my building now. Install good security. Like any capable landlord." Sitting back, Clark closes his eyes when Lex pulls his t-shirt free of his jeans, curious fingers tracking along his waist, a hint of a tease. "I--" Clark sucks in a breath when Lex leans forward, his tongue this agile, fast thing that's treating his skin like paper, like Lex is writing his name into Clark's flesh. It's hot, even hotter when Lex arches up, pushing them tight together, and Clark rides out the sparkles of sensation, fingers tightening on the back of the couch. "Lex."
Shaking his head, Clark brushes his mouth over Lex's scalp, feeling Lex make a soft sound against his throat. "I've lived here since I graduated."
"Clark, I know that. I know when you graduated, your GPA, where you bought your furniture, and I even know how many times you've called the plumber to fix that leak in the bathroom." Lex draws back, smiling up at him, bright and shiny.
"Stalker. Kind of hot." He can say that now when Lex is unbuttoning his jeans, tracing that thin line of hair. But Lex makes strange things hot, like opera glasses and dinner and breathing. All suddenly highly sexual things. "How did my plumbing problems fit into your plan for world domination again?"
"Integral part." Lex's teeth fix on his shoulder, bright pain, dizzying. Clark digs into the couch, remembering how many times he's patched it over the years. "Very important."
"Sure." Hand working steadily into his pants. Very hot. Would be so much better if the jeans weren't in the way, but Clark has other ideas. Pulling back, he gets his hands between them, unbuttoning the crisp white shirt, leaving traces of grease and red tomato sauce everywhere he touches. Pulling Lex's shirt free, he finishes, opening him like a wonderful present, the interactive kind.
"Lex." The splashes of bruising are like a shock, bringing him back down. A few, fading, he can attribute to himself, his fingers printed in pale yellow, but the others--with careful hands, he touches the near-solid black high on Lex's ribs, splashing green just above the nipple. Contact points, knuckles, maybe kicks. He hears his own sharp breath and Lex's resigned sigh. "Jesus--"
"It only looks bad. I heal very fast." Lex's hand covers his, pressing his palm into warm, hard flesh.
"Stress relief?" Clark asks, voice low. Looking up, he shakes his head. "What else?"
Lex's mouth tightens briefly. "Dislocated shoulder, three bruised ribs, bruised right hip."
Pushing back, Clark stares at him. "Lex--"
Warm arms tighten, pulling him closer, and Clark winces, wondering if his knee is hitting that bruised hip. "They'll be gone in a few days. You know that. You're really taking this entire fragility of human life thing far, far too seriously."
That's--not entirely false. Carefully placing his elbows against Lex's shoulder, he lowers his head, just enough to press a kiss on Lex's head. "I never paid attention. Not--not really. I know how those feel. I--you know, I was sixteen the last time I could be hurt, so I don't *remember* it, not--not like normal people do. People go through this every day."
"No one does what I do," Lex answers, voice light, head tilting enough for their lips to touch. "Stop it." A brush of lips that heats up every nerve, making Clark tense again in a completely different way. "Touch me."
"On this couch?" Clark watches Lex glance around briefly--it was thrift store when it was bought and hasn't improved at all under Clark's care, patching aside. He snickers at the thoughtful look. "I've always wanted to make out with someone on a couch, you know. I--didn't do it much in high school, and adulthood sort of--"
He's cut off, the lumpy cushions under his back, Lex stretching out on top of him like he's some wonderful new mattress. Fingers twining in his hair, tilting his face just enough. "I used to imagine you on that couch in your barn."
"I'd sit think about you sleeping on it," Lex murmurs, gently kissing the corner of his mouth, tongue warm and soft. "About waking you up."
Clark catches his breath. There's not nearly enough air anymore. "How would you have woken me up?"
Lex's hands skim down his sides, reaching the edge of the t-shirt, skinning it back up over his ribs. Clark tries to lift up enough to pull it off, but a hand on his chest stops him. "No. Just--"
"Yeah," Clark breathes, settling back down. His eyes fall closed at the first touch of Lex's mouth, just below his collar. Slow, open mouthed kiss to his skin that shouldn't be as hot as it is, nerves underneath lighting up. The brush of lips across his nipple makes him arch, hard again, God, so fast, nipple tightening, but Lex doesn't stop, following some path only he knows, mouth pressing hard on his sternum, sucking at too-sensitive skin, then a slow, lazy journey to Clark's other nipple, already tight, anticipatory. Just a brush, making Clark arch, an embarrassingly needy sound working its way out of his mouth.
Every inch of skin is mapped, like Lex has to know everything about him, sucking hard on his stomach, tongue curling around his navel, following that line of hair down but never getting any farther than his hip. It could drive him crazy if Lex keeps this up, slow and steady and so wet.
"Lex," he hears himself whisper, and he wonders how long his hands have been under Lex's shirt, stroking his back, shoulders, anything he can reach. Wonders how long he's been breathing like this, fast and shallow, open-mouthed, how long his heart's been racing and lying so still because he's afraid to move and stop the addictive mouth that's turning him inside out. Lost in this haze of dreamy arousal, and he wonders if he ever would have wanted to wake up from this, ever wants to. His body feels heavy and strangely weightless, too, like only Lex is keeping him here.
"I love how you taste." Low, husky voice against his stomach, rough, like Lex has been breathing smoke for days. "Here." A broad lick just above his navel that makes him arch against Lex's weight, trying to get pressure, anything, on his too-hard cock. "Here." Languorous lick of his nipple, followed by gentle teeth, sending little sparks straight to Clark's spine. "Here, too." Hollow of his throat, warm lips settling there, sweet and hot and Clark's hands freeze on Lex's back, wanting to hold him there. The silky edges of Lex's open shirt brush Clark's skin, sticking wetly when Lex presses him back into the mattress, a knee going between his legs, pushing hard against his cock.
Lex kisses him, still slow, tongue sliding by his, licking over it. Encouraging Clark to kiss back, and Lex tastes so good. He wants to lay here and be touched like this, never move, even if a spring on this side of the couch is poking into his neck and he's getting a cramp in his thigh from being squashed against the back of the couch. He wants--God--for Lex to never stop, when Lex moves from his mouth to his throat, leaning his head back on the arm of the couch and trying to get Lex closer, somewhere safe where he can't be bruised and can't be hurt.
The movie's still playing, Clark's vaguely aware, and he almost begins to wonder where the remote is when the gentle bite steals the thought. When Lex kisses him again, exploring his mouth like it's brand new and wonderful, like Clark's candy and it's--God, he never wants to--
"Oh damn." Lex's hand's in his jeans again, pressing down, and Clark arches. "Oh God, what--"
"You wanted to know how I'd wake you up," Lex murmurs against his throat, then he's shifting up, hand pulled away in an act of complete unfairness, before wrapping around the worn waist of Clark's jeans.
"You mean I'm not awake yet?" He can't help grinning, hissing softly when Lex pulls down, lifting his hips just enough, and Lex's eyebrows raise in question. "Um. Underwear seemed kinda pointless."
"I like how you think." Lex grins down at him, like a kid who just stole some candy from the store and wants to share. "Like this."
Clark thinks he's ready for it, but even knowing doesn't stop him from arching when Lex swallows him smoothly, sucking wet heat and dreamy's gone, languor is gone, hell, his name's gone, too, but he's chanting something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like Lex's name.
His body's been aching and it takes no time at all. Warm fingers on his balls, weighing, caressing, and Lex is driving him faster, making him arch up and push and say 'please' and 'yes' and 'don't stop', before orgasm wipes out even that.
The couch is still lumpy, but Clark's pretty sure he's in love with it, especially when Lex crawls back up, pushing him more deeply into the cushions, and hey, Clark can get that spring fixed. Lex props himself up on one elbow, curling a finger in his hair, grinning still.
"There's something to be said for couches," Lex remarks, and Clark laughs and pulls him close, running his fingers up the hard lines of his back.
"Stay tonight. Here. With me."
A kiss is dropped on his forehead, almost chaste, but when Clark captures his lips, Lex tastes like Clark. "I'm not going anywhere."