Fangirls and Hot Boys
by Suz suzvoy@tesco.net

Disclaimer - DC and WB own them. Kinda.

CLex, of course. Humour, of course. Feedback would rock. Rated R for language. Short and silly.

*

"I am not," Lex declared dramatically, rolling the drink around the insides of his glass, "*pouting*."

Clark knew better. And told him so. "That thing you're doing with your lips? Right now? Where they kind of push together and flatten out?"

"That’s not pouting," Lex insisted, "that's just the natural configuration of my lips."

Oh hell. How was Lex even buying his own bullshit? "I've become very well acquainted with the *natural configuration* of those lips," Clark grinned at his geek, leaning across the sofa to press a quick kiss to the lips in question, "and trust me. That is not their natural state."

Maybe a little affected by the kiss or just Clark's insistence, Lex fidgeted on the sofa, now holding the glass with both hands. "I’m not jealous Clark."

The hell he wasn't.

"I’m just...it's just...I..." His voice trailed off as for once Lex actually had to *search* for the right words...and then he found them. "Do they *have* to dress like hookers?!"

Not even bothering to hide his amusement - this was way too much fun - Clark leant back letting his head rest against the sofa. Lex didn't like sharing something that he considered 'his'; never had and never would do. And now that Superman had so many 'fans' crawling out of the woodwork, Lex's jealousy was working overtime.

Clark liked it. It didn't happen often - and it was usually instigated by too much alcohol - but every now this new Lex would creep out. It was almost like Lex reverted to the childhood he'd never really had.

Clark couldn't begrudge him that. He could, however, tease him mercilessly.

And the fact that Lex jumped Clark and fucked him whenever he found lingerie in Superman's fan mail?

Just a bonus.

"Oh God, Clark." Lex sighed, apparently conceding defeat as he leant towards him to rest his head on Clark’s chest. "You have *groupies*." He spat the word out with obvious distaste, his entire body shuddering.

Wrapping an arm around him, Clark patted his hip reassuringly. "Hey, but so do you." He'd seen the websites himself. lexluthorhottie.com, lexsex.com (though that was less a fan site and more something else), and his own personal favourite - baldbillionaire.com.

"My 'groupies' don't send me sexy underwear."

"Aww, come on Lex." This was too good. Just too. Good. "What about that old lady who knitted you a hat last Christmas so your head wouldn't get cold?"

Lex's body froze.

Clark was pressing his lips together so tightly in an attempt not to laugh that had be been anyone else his teeth would have probably shattered.

Eventually, Lex spoke. Darkly. "I am never telling you anything ever again."

Finally letting the laughter out, Clark laughed, chuckled, snorted, and he may have accidentally knocked Lex's hand and spilt the drink over the shirt he was wearing, but it was totally worth it.

Lex had disposed of his glass by the time Clark had stopped laughing, producing the odd chuckle only when he conjured the mental image of Lex actually *wearing* the hat.

He was well aware that Lex was right. Clark, or rather Superman, did have groupies. And it didn't stop at the Lois-wearing-Superman-pyjama's level. There were both women and men alike who would turn up without fail to where they knew he was going to make an appearance. Some just to see him, some wanting a picture or autograph.

Of course, there were also the people who made no bones about the fact that they'd like nothing more than to see - and feel - him out of the Superman outfit.

It'd horrified Clark at first; despite the obviousness of his outfit he'd spent most of his life so far trying to go un-noticed, and having women with big breasts and even bigger hair suddenly groping his ass was not a feeling he appreciated.

But...he was kinda getting used to the attention. Not the groping certainly, but people just wanting to see him? Meet him? It worked wonders on his ego. So he met with them when he had the chance, posed for the pictures when he could and scrawled out autographs if he didn't have to rush off somewhere. Lex had said that Superman was helping Clark get in touch with his latent exhibitionist.

Clark wasn't entirely sure he could disagree.

"Remember the old days?" Lex was back, clutching at his scotch-soaked chest. "When you first appeared and first started flying around the city? When people were *afraid* of you?" He turned his face closer to Clark, quite possibly trying to suck the scotch from the fabric. "I really liked those days."

He really should be moving. Lex would be horrified in the morning when he realised that he, Lex Luthor, CEO of LexCorp, had been trying to suck his drink out of Clark's shirt. Especially when Clark took every possible opportunity to remind him (loving Lex did not equate to not mocking him).

"Lex, we should really get you to bed..."

The sucking stopped. "I like that idea."

"To sleep."

He cursed, one arm wrapping around the front of Clark’s body. "I don't want to move. It's nice here."

Knowing that it wasn't just the alcohol - having known something was wrong since the moment Lex had walked into the penthouse - Clark brushed a soft kiss to the top of his head. "What happened at work?"

It seemed impossible, but somehow Lex moved closer. "My father hates me."

They'd had this conversation before: Clark trying to prove him wrong, Lex insisting that he was right. There was no point in resurrecting the discussion. "I love you," Clark murmured.

Lex said nothing, his body warm against Clark's, and it was one of those nights where even those words weren't enough. So he said something else.

"You're my biggest groupie of all."

Trying to stifle a chuckle, Lex pressed his by now decidedly non-pouty lips towards Clark's chest.

Clark, for his part, held Lex for as long as he needed, sighed with contentment, and made a mental note to send himself more lingerie tomorrow.

~FINIS

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