headers and warnings
"Lex, I know you're around here somewhere! Son, we have matters we need to discuss!"
"Damn, Lex, your dad brings a new meaning to the word 'loud'," Clark whispered, giggling. There was no need to speak louder; they were practically standing on top of each other. They had to have found the smallest closet in the castle to hide in, one that barely had room for the two men to stand, surrounded by shelves of cedar-scented linens.
"Sssh. He's also got annoyingly sharp hearing," replied Lex, leaning up to breathe the words across Clark's ear. Clark shivered slightly.
"But, Lex, what're we gonna do in here if we can't talk?" Clark tried to repeat Lex's trick, but he knew he'd still been too loud when Lex's hand closed over his mouth.
"Lex, where are you? I hear that farm boy of yours, so I know you're around here somewhere." Lionel's bellowing was definitely closer.
Clark could sense Lex's glare even in the darkness. Lex had pulled them into this closet when they'd been forced out of their fourth comfortable hanging-out spot by the sound of Lionel's insistent yells. Clark hadn't even known this closet was here, tucked back behind a tapestry in the upper corridors. Evidently someone did, though, because it was clean and dust-free.
Clark leaned back a little, his butt resting gently against one of the shelves. The faint light coming in from under the door kept tempting him to look, to try and make Lex's face and features out of the vague shapes in front of him. It wasn't dark enough that he couldn't see his hand in front of his face, but the straining to see was making his x-ray vision flash in and out at odd intervals.
One minute he'd be seeing soft shapes of grey and black and darker grey, and the next a startling black-and-white view of Lex's skull and spine. Or a strange dark shot of Lex's skin under his clothes, the contents of his breast pocket (a pen, his cel phone, and a little rock that Clark suspected was from the river), or even the soft smattering of freckles across his hips.
Those freckles were really distracting, and it took all of Clark's willpower to keep his eyes away from certain other parts of Lex's anatomy. Because he wasn't interested in Lex's naked parts. He couldn't be interested, because that would mean he was gay, or at least not nearly as straight as his obsession with Lana would indicate. Although the reading he'd been doing suggested that his obsession with an unattainable beauty was as likely to be a sign of homosexual tendencies as of hetero.
Which was a line of thought that really was not helping keep his eyesight normal and out of Lex's pants. In fact, Clark was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he practically jumped out of his skin, banging his head against the shelf when Lex's other hand brushed against his thigh.
Lex responded by sealing his hand tighter over Clark's mouth and grabbing his hip, leaning into Clark and whispering, "Ssh! I think he's right outside."
Clark suddenly found himself torn between gripping the shelf and grabbing his friend. He settled for just licking Lex's palm where it pressed into his mouth, tongue teasing out in a slightly more sensuous manner than was strictly Kosher for such a childish gesture. Lex's palm was salty and slightly sour, and the muscles in his hand twitched delightfully under Clark's ministrations.
Instead of pulling away like Clark had expected, however, Lex melted against him. Clark's breath went out in a long sigh as Lex's entire weight pressed him back into the shelves. He felt heat rush along his veins, spreading from each point of contact to send blood into his cheeks, and, embarrassingly, lower.
He was so distracted with praying that Lex wouldn't notice the growing bulge in his pants that his mind barely registered the answering hardness pressed against his hip. At least, he was until Lex deliberately rubbed it against him, sending a frisson of electricity up Clark's spine. Lex's arms wrapped themselves around his waist, and the silencing hand was replaced with a most welcome surprise indeed -- Lex's mouth.
Clark returned the kiss with an awkward hunger, his body alive in a way it had never been during the few times he'd kissed girls. His cock felt like it had a life of its own, fully hard and trying its best to leap out of his pants and into Lex's... well, he was a little fuzzy on that particular detail, but he had a feeling that Lex was going to teach him everything he needed to know. Hopefully, right here and now.
Clark valiantly suppressed a moan as Lex's mouth opened beneath his, hot and wet and doing things with his tongue that Clark filed away in the back of his head for future reference. And then he tried his best to practice them right here and now, tasting the smooth sweetness of Lex's teeth, the rough cinnamon tang of his tongue, the hot whiskey sourness of his breath.
Cinnamon Tic Tacs and whiskey were about to become Clark's official favorite flavor, aside perhaps from the salt of Lex's skin. Which, Clark decided just then, he needed to taste more of, as he trailed kisses along Lex's cheek, down his jaw, nuzzling as best he could under the collar of his shirt. One of Lex's hands left off where it had been making distracting patterns on his back under his sweater, and helpfully loosened and discarded the obstructing tie.
Clark took this opportunity to taste Lex's pulse, and put his own hands to good use undoing Lex's buttons, tugging his shirt up and out and pushing the whole shirt and jacket to fall softly into the darkness. While Clark was busy, Lex had been equally productive, untucking Clark's t-shirt and finding his nipples. That whole not-moaning thing became a real challenge when Lex's hips started a slow, rough rhythm, aligning their cocks and making Clark's entire body tingle.
"Lex! Son, you can't hide from me forever!"
Damn! Lionel was right outside, and Clark was caught between laughter and desire. Sound was welling up in his throat, fighting to get free and betray their position. His stomach muscles fluttered against Lex's hands, and harsh breath blew across his face before Lex sealed their mouths together, thoroughly distracting him from Lionel's proximity and their predicament.
They kissed like that, pressed against one another, hands exploring what skin they could reach, for what seemed like forever. Lionel's strident voice receded, and their breathing grew louder. Soft moans peppered their kisses, and more clothing floated down onto the floor. Everything flowed together like a dream, a ballet of mouths and hands and the burning tingle of his cock straining against his jeans.
Clark kissed his way to Lex's ear, and decided to risk a whisper. "Lex, I... I want to keep going, but I don't know what comes next."
A soft breath against his ear, and a barely-heard, "Why, you do, Clark," was all the warning he got before Lex slid down Clark's body and onto his knees.
Clark stuffed a fist into his mouth to suppress the moans that threatened to give them away as deft fingers worked at the stiff, pre-come soaked denim of his fly. Clark quietly cursed the day button flies were invented, and a minute later thanked god for loose boxers with that oh-so-convenient fly in the front. Lex pulled him gently free of the wet fabric, breathing deeply as the smell of sex quickly permeated the tiny closet.
Clark almost came right then and there, overwhelmed by the feeling of another man's hand on his cock. Lex gripped the base of his shaft gently, holding it steady as a hot, wet tongue snaked its way up to lap at the slit. Even white teeth bit down on Clark's fist as he tried to hold back the tide of both moans and orgasm. He knew he wasn't going to last long like this, not unless he found something to...
Evidently their whispers hadn't been quiet enough, as Lionel's voice was coming closer again, sounding even more impatient. Well, that certainly provided a distraction even as Lex's mouth closed around the head of his cock, enveloping him in the totally unfamiliar sensation of wet heat and gentle pressure. Clark's hips thrust forward a little, his body trying to get as much of that feeling as it could.
Instead of pulling back or resisting, Lex encouraged the motion with his other hand, pulling Clark's hips forward until he could feel the smoothness of Lex's throat closing around him. Even Lionel wasn't enough of a diversion as Lex gently pushed Clark's hips back and forth, silently instructing him to fuck his mouth. Clark tasted copper as his teeth penetrated skin, the pain lost in the overwhelming pleasure as he finally emptied himself down Lex's throat.
Light washed over him, and at first Clark thought it was just his vision going in the intensity of the moment. That was, until a sarcastic voice penetrated the rushing in his ears, and he turned to see Lionel staring at them in undisguised disgust.
"Well, I suppose it's only appropriate you were hiding in the closet, if this is what you've been up to, Lex."
Lionel turned his back, waving his hand at them in a dismissing manner. "You finish up with your little catamite and we'll discuss business once you've... brushed your teeth."
The blackness of their surroundings seemed much deeper as the door clicked shut, the sound of Lionel's retreating footsteps lost in the soft whoosh as the tapestry fell back into place.
"L-Lex?" Clark stammered, totally unequipped to cope with this turn of events.
"Yes, Clark?" came the answer, sounding impossibly far away floating up through the darkness.
Clark took a risk, and tried to draw Lex out of whatever father-related brooding he was about to fall into and back to the matter at hand. Literally at hand, as Lex's was still wrapped around Clark's softening cock. "What comes next?"
Clark was rewarded with a burst of ironic laughter, and the feeling of Lex guiding himself back up Clark's body. Hands gently cupped Clark's face as Lex whispered against his lips, "Why, I do, of course."
Warnings: Slash, underage
Summary: Lex and Clark hide from Lionel -- in a closet.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Ximeria for audiencing, and of course to my intrepid betas, the two blue cats. Written for the Explore the Castle Challenge.
All of the works contained herein are labours of love, unauthorized by those who hold the rights to such things, and no profit is made from them. No harm is meant, and hopefully no offense given.