Part is Parts V:
headers and warnings
After two orgasms and a hot shower, Lex felt boneless and sated. He was flushed pink with the heat and lying facedown in the center of his bed, trying vaguely not to drift off into the beckoning darkness. Sleep, though an attractive prospect, had nothing on Clark. That worthy was currently humming to himself and rummaging through Lex's nightstand -- specifically the drawer containing the lube and other, less mainstream sex toys. He seemed intent and focused, like he had something up his nonexistent sleeve.
Or so Lex hoped; in fact, Clark's earlier display of initiative in the shower was getting more than Lex's hopes back up, and in record time, too. He writhed languidly against the smooth cotton sheets, enjoying the gentle friction against his half-hard cock. He jumped, shocked, as Clark swatted him on the ass and said, "Stop that. No starting without me."
The slap had barely stung, but the implications were enough to bring him entirely to attention, physically and mentally. He parted his legs a little wider, feeling wanton and almost nervous. His heart was fluttering in his chest, desire tingling in little waves over the handprint on his ass and down in the cleft to his needy hole.
After a few long seconds of silence he started to close his legs, but Clark smacked his other cheek, a little harder, adding, "Keep them spread wide," to his earlier orders.
Lex complied, both sets of cheeks flaming red. This new side of Clark was beyond Lex's expectations, although of course not outside the realm of his wilder fantasies. For all that he played the innocent around others, Clark was proving to be anything but. Lex's ass was burning; that second slap had really stung. He imagined Clark's handprint, huge and red and unmistakably masculine, and felt the slide of pre-come against his stomach.
The bed dipped, and Clark settled in behind him, between his widespread legs. Lex felt vulnerable and exposed, a little embarrassed, a little anxious, and a lot turned on. He had no idea what Clark would do next, not really, and his heart sped up with exhilaration. For once in his life, Lex Luthor had absolutely no control over his immediate future, and he liked it that way.
Clark wasn't moving, and Lex was growing restless, wondering. The tick of his mother's watch on the nightstand drew time out into jagged blocks as his pulse beat in strange counterpoint. He spread his legs a little wider, inviting and revealing, and was rewarded with a small noise from Clark. That one sharp intake of breath was like a shout in the silence, and Lex inched his knees further apart, feeling the stretch of it in his thighs, the cool afternoon air drifting over his exposed hole, the sheets catching against his erection.
He felt the minute shift of the bed as Clark stirred, the breeze that preceded his hand giving Lex only time enough to tense up, not nearly enough to be prepared for the impact. The other blows had obviously just been a test, because this one really hurt; the pain turning to heat turning to desire as it ran through the twisted pathways of Lex's mind and back down to his cock.
His cock was the real slut here, perking its head up at every touch of Clark's hands, whether in pleasure or pain. He recalled other times when he'd been hurt by Clark, bruised by the helpful grasp of his fingers while being rescued from one insane predicament or another. Even as Clark swatted him again, and again, Lex's mind drifted, channeling the sensation to memory.
He'd jacked off three times that first night, glad to be alive, the shower's hard tiles pressing into fingerprint bruises on his shoulders and back where Clark had pulled him, touched him. Even his lips had felt sore from the CPR, and the center of his chest had been a rainbow of pain for two full weeks. He'd gotten a lot of mileage out of that bruise, and the many others that Clark had inadvertently given him in the months since.
Clark paused; it took the cessation of pain to pull Lex's mind back to the moment, grounding him in his body. He felt like he was back underwater, eyes closed and his world narrowed to what his skin could tell him. His breath rasped in his throat, his ass tingled and burned, his cock was harder than he could ever remember, and his thighs were stretched wide, muscles pulled taut.
Large hands pulled his hips up, leverage pressing his face into the pillows. His cock bobbed free, a string of pre-come pulling it towards the dampened sheets. Clark blew a stream of cool air over Lex's ass, dampening down the heat, making his opening twitch. A single swipe of Clark's tongue wet him from balls to spine, and then the cool breeze was back. He twitched, torn between trying to open more and close completely, unable to do either in the face of Clark's control.
He jumped when another harsh slap hit his asscheek, sure there would be an imprint of Clark's hand there for a week. A matching print scored his left cheek, and then a totally unexpected slap to his cock had him shuddering, trying desperately not to come. His low moan turned into a sharp yelp when Clark's teeth sank into the flesh of his ass, their smooth, blunt pressure sending another spike to his already overloaded system.
Lex gathered the scraps of his brain together enough to find some English and said, "God, Clark... guh-gonna come... if you keep..."
He let out a strangle moan, his grasp of the language running out abruptly when Clark's tongue speared into him, sliding like wet sandpaper into his sensitized hole. Another nip to his ass, leaving the unmistakable feeling of teeth marks just to the right of his opening, and Clark said, "You won't, because I'm telling you not to."
Just the soft brush of those words over his mind made Lex shudder, but gave him the thread of control he needed. The underwater feeling returned; this time Lex felt like he was breathing it in, his brain going liquid and heavy. Everything stretched out, time and sensation, his insides coiling tighter and tighter. Another slap to his cock sent it bobbing, then another and another, and a slick finger slipped easily inside him for a few short thrusts, then left him feeling empty and bereft.
Lex almost forgot to breathe when the first clamp closed over the skin just behind his balls. He'd never even considered that Clark would get anything but lube out of his toy drawer, let alone pick something as blatantly sadistic as the zipper of rubber-tipped clothespins. Clark clipped them on methodically, in a straight line between his balls and up to just below the head of his cock. Thirteen in all and, as Lex knew intimately, they had a string connecting them together so they could be pulled off in one stroke at a crucial moment.
A small, rational part of Lex's brain couldn't believe that he, Lex Luthor, was this easy for a teenage boy. The much larger part of him told that part to shove itself and concentrated on the delicious burn of pain and pleasure coming from every inch of his ass and cock. Clark had gone back to biting, using his hands to spread Lex even wider and raining harsh nips and broad licks over his reddened ass, teasing close to his hole but never giving him the contact he truly craved.
Teeth scraped over his balls, pulling the thin skin against the clamps, sending waves of pain and pleasure up his spine. Clark's tongue flickered out, probing at the clothespins, going further up between his legs until, with a small noise of frustration, Clark flipped Lex over unceremoniously, leaving him sprawled on his back, legs spread wide and eyes dazzled by the late afternoon sun still streaming into the room.
"Close your eyes, and put your hands above your head," Clark ordered, bending his head down to continue his tongue's journey without even looking to see his orders followed.
Lex's balls were on fire, the new position pulling his sac down while his balls tried to draw up until everything was taut as a drum, and he almost screamed when Clark playfully flicked one of the clothespins with a finger. Clark's mouth closed over the head of his cock, pleasure mingling and blending with the mounting pain, and two fingers thrust roughly into him. He brought his knees up to his chest, offering himself to Clark, unwilling to wait for more careful preparation.
Clark seemed quite eager, and Lex felt something jump in his chest at the thought that his young lover might enjoy this as much as he. Another spike of pain pushed him perilously close to the edge as Clark buried himself to the hilt in Lex's body, pulling at the clamps and stretching Lex's hole wide. Clark hissed something that might have been a prayer or a curse or even some twisted endearment, and Lex arched up into him, wishing he could open his eyes just to see Clark's face.
His thoughts must have shown, because Clark rasped out, "Look at me, Lex."
He blinked in the light, and saw Clark transformed. His face was flushed not with embarrassment but passion and desire, an intense light of joy in his eyes as he glanced down at his lover. He reached down and grabbed the end of the string, looping it through long fingers as he thrust recklessly into Lex. There wasn't enough of a rhythm for Lex to move along with him, each deep stroke a new surprise.
The tension in his body ratcheted higher as the string tugged at the first of the clothespins, and Clark looked into his eyes, confident as he whispered, "Come with me, lover," and pulled.
Lex's orgasm was ripped from him, screaming at the torrent that cascaded through his overburdened synapses. He felt Clark's cock pulsing in his ass as a dim and distant sensation, one totally overshadowed by the searing pain of the clips being ripped from his most tender flesh. Come spattered like hot coals over his sweat-slicked chest, and his breath caught painfully in his chest.
Clark flung the zipper aside and gathered Lex into his arms, holding his limp and satiated body close. Lex melted into his embrace, wrapping his loose limbs around Clark's strong back and snuggling into him. He was pretty sure that his command of the English language would return soon enough, and for now all he wanted was to ride the endorphin rush as long as possible, preferably right here in Clark's lap.
"You know, Lex," said Clark conversationally, "I've thought about this day for a long time. Fantasized, really, but nothing compares to this. Not even what we just did can compare to being able just hold you in my arms like this." There was a long pause, almost enough for Lex to try and fumble for a coherent reply, when Clark added, "Although that was pretty damned cool."
Lex chuckled, then coughed, his throat dry and sore. He cleared it a few times before managing to croak out, "'Pretty damned cool' is something of an understatement, Clark, but yeah. This is definitely the best."
Clark gently lowered him to the bed and said, "Let me get you a glass..." Clark's stomach interrupted with a loud rumble and they both laughed.
"Ahem... Please. Then we'll dress and see if we can't find you some dinner. And perhaps arrange a sleepover?" Lex knew his voice sounded plaintive, but he wasn't nearly ready for this to be over. He wanted at least one night where he could have Clark next to him until morning.
Clark gently pulled out, got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a glass of cool water for them to share. Once satisfied that Lex was feeling better, he said, "I'd love to stay." He paused and lowered his eyes, suddenly shy. "I've always wanted to, you know."
Lex smiled and kissed him gently, whispering, "You've always been wanted."
Title: Parts is Parts V: Cock
Warnings: Slash, underage, BDSM
Summary: Parts is Parts V. In which we discover that Lex is a pain slut, and Clark likes to watch him beg.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to my Bunnies for the encouragement. And to my two blue cats, who put up with my pestering and side projects and weird plot bunnies, and do it with grace and style.
Safety Note: Normal people negotiate heavily before using a zipper on even the much less tender parts of the body, but it would've totally spoiled the flow of the story, so I'm taking an unsafe porn liberty. Do not try this at home without extensive prior knowledge and experimentation. Really.
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.