DC and WB own them. Oh yes.

Clex, humour, future fic. NC-17. BOY is this silly. I mean really. Silly silly silly.

Many thanks to nel and fromward, who I'm quite sure own large parts of my soul by now.

Feedback would rock.

*

Sneaking inside, Lex quietly shut the door behind him and scanned what he could see of the penthouse.

No movement. No sound.

Good. Very good.

Shrugging off and hanging up his jacket, Lex grasped the handle of his briefcase and headed for the living room. Maybe, it he was really lucky, Clark was working late at the paper. Or Superman had been alerted to some terrible catastrophe in Western Europe (not that Lex prayed for bad things to happen...or at least, not often).

Today had been a very long, very tiring day, and he wanted nothing more than to watch incredibly bad television for a few hours before collapsing into bed. When he made it all the way to the table by the sofa without being assaulted, Lex convinced himself he was home free.

Relaxing and sighing heavily, he could feel the tension of the day slipping out of his body even before he sat down. Today wasn't going to be so bad after-

"Lex."

The briefcase fell to the floor.

Lex barely had time to despair before he was being tackled down onto the sofa by a familiar naked form, greedy hands pulling at the button and zipper on his pants.

"Dammit, Clark!" Not again! God, life was so fucking unfair. It didn't take much effort at all for Clark's mouth to get a rise out of Lex's cock - it never did, despite everything. Cursing repeatedly, Lex thumped his hand on the back of the sofa. He had absolutely no self control, which only served to make him feel even worse about the situation.

Letting go of Lex's cock with a messy 'pop', Clark grinned up at him, hair falling over his eyes. "Yummy."

That'd been hot and amusing the first dozen or so times Clark had done it.

Now it was just hot.

Lowering his head, Clark eagerly got back to work, sucking with such enthusiasm it made Lex's eyes cross.

Gasping, Lex felt the Earth move. Only to realise it was actually the sofa, and then he knew just what was causing it.

Clark was humping the sofa.

"Clark," Lex groaned, quite pleased he was speaking coherently, "if you come over the sofa again I'm not paying for the cleaning service this-FUCK!" A brief use of superspeed from Clark's tongue (one of the advantages of having an alien lover), and Lex was coming, moaning, back arching up.

Sometime later, when Clark was sighing his contentment against Lex's stomach, Lex made a mental note to start buying shares in cleaning companies. And that they really had to do something about this.

*

Neither one of them had noticed at first. Why would they? They'd just started a relationship after years of waving pool cues, telescopes and other phallic symbols in front of each other at every opportunity - of course they'd be insatiable. At every opportunity they were rubbing, sucking or fucking, and Lex had spent a month or so happily floating around life.

He suspected he'd authorised a lot of wage increases at work, but he honestly didn't remember a thing about them.

And if Clark had seemed excessively enthusiastic about giving head, what of it? It wasn't as if it was a bad thing, and Lex was the one who benefited, after all. No, life had been pretty damn good. Almost perfect, in fact, and Lex was the happiest he'd ever been.

Then, tragically - or so it'd felt at the time, proof that Lex really was in love - he'd had to fly to London for business. Clark had come with him all the way to the airport, even inside the jet, and it was only at the last minute that Lex managed to kick him out, telling him that if he was really that desperate he could always fly over in much less time and come to visit him.

They both knew Clark wouldn't, of course. Metropolis was his home now, and his home needed Superman's skills.

Nonetheless, they'd talked every day, indulged in quite a bit of phone sex, and then as he was nearing the end of his two-week stay, Lex got the phone called he'd never expected to receive.

Martha's voice.

"Clark's sick."

He'd flown back to Metropolis immediately, losing a contract in the process, and burst into the penthouse a little after three in the morning. "Where is he?!"

Martha and Jonathan took him to the bedroom, and Lex had almost gasped. Clark had been so pale. Despite his various run-ins with enemies over the years, Clark had never looked so deathly ill.

"What happened?" Lex had asked, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, clasping Clark's hand. Some new, deadlier, exposure to kryptonite? A virus that only affected Kryptonians? Whatever it was, Lex vowed to destroy all those responsible.

"Mom, Dad," Clark had gasped out, voice barely audible. "Can you...leave us...please?"

Lex had sat frozen in terror, even as Clark's parents gave them the privacy Clark had asked for - although not before Martha placed a kiss on her son's forehead. Was this...was this it? Did Clark know he was going to die soon, and this was their last chance to be alone together? To say goodbye? Terror and grief had squeezed his chest, and Lex suddenly realised why he'd tried to avoid that love thing for so long.

"Lex?" Clark had croaked out eventually.

"Here, I'm here," Lex responded, gripping tighter. He was terrified, but for Clark he'd be able to do this.

"I need..." His breath was so shallow.

"Anything," Lex promised.

"I need..."

"Yes?"

"...your dick."

To say it was the last thing Lex had expected to hear would have been far too great an understatement. He'd actually been incapable of blinking for a full minute. "My dick."

"Yes."

"You need...my dick."

"God, yes."

Concerned, Lex's hand had moved up to start rubbing Clark's arm. "Happy as I am to feed your sexual appetite, Clark, you're seriously ill. One orgasm and your lungs would probably explode."

"You're not that good," Clark wheezed, his humour still shining through. "But this is about getting you off, anyway. Not me." That much talking seemed to drain him, and his eyes fluttered closed. "Please. Lex. Please."

Lex had never been able to deny Clark anything, and as he stood up to pull his clothes off, he hoped to God that Clark's parents wouldn't walk back in and see what would look very much like him molesting their ill son.

Moving Clark seemed like a really bad idea and Lex wanted to make this as easy as possible on him, so he took up the traditional 69 pose, his cock over Clark's face. Lowering himself down carefully, Lex had just been about to check that Clark was ready when Clark had happily started gobbling down Lex's cock.

Throwing his head back he'd panted, biting down onto his lip and he didn't last long at all, having missed Clark so much, and just a few moments later he was shooting down Clark's throat.

Light headed, Lex carefully pulled out and moved until he was under the covers, wrapping himself around Clark. "Want to tell me what that was all about?" he'd asked, still breathing heavily.

But Clark hadn't needed to say a word. As Lex watched Clark's colour returned, his breathing levelled out, and within mere minutes he was his normal, healthy self.

And so, it seemed, they found themselves stuck with another predicament as they realised the truth.

Clark was addicted to Lex's come.

Clark was a junkie, and Lex's cock was his supplier.

They'd elected not to tell Clark's parents exactly how Lex had 'cured' him, using the excuse that it was an alien bonding thing that meant Clark couldn't be separated from his mate for longer than a few days. For all they knew, that could be the truth.

As time went on, however, it only got worse. At first it was nearly two weeks. Then one week. Then a few days. Now, Clark needed a fix twice a day. It wouldn't have been so bad if they'd been able to schedule - say before work and after work - but it didn't work that way. As yet they still hadn't figured out a routine to it, and getting Clark to suck his dick when he wasn't desperate to didn't seem to help.

As a result Lex ended up getting blow jobs in some interesting places. There was a particularly memorable Thursday afternoon when, after greeting everyone at a meeting, Lex had sat down only for the unmistakable sound of his zipper being lowered to echo through the room. Then there'd been the night at the opera where Clark had panted "Now, Lex," during the first act, and Lex had never been more grateful for owning box seats.

But it was getting seriously inconvenient. He had a business to run; his cock couldn't be at Clark's beck and call.

So he started running tests, trying to determine if it was something special about his come, or just because Clark was an alien. Maybe both. Lex was the first person Clark had been with, after all, so Clark couldn't even say if this was unusual behaviour for him or not.

It all came to a head - so to speak - a few weeks later when Lex was in the kitchen, trying to cook pasta. He was carefully peering over the top of the pan when suddenly there where hands on his pants, tugging them down, and Clark was turning his body around as he kneeled in front of him.

Lex got as far as saying "You could at least ask-" before his cock disappeared into Clark's mouth and then he closed his eyes, because no matter how inconvenient it was at times, it still felt fucking good.

After, when the pasta had bubbled over and Lex had resigned himself to hiring cooks for the rest of his life, Clark apparently decided it was Time To Talk when they were both lying on the hard, tiled floor.

"You're not happy, are you?"

Chagrined at the despondent tone in Clark's voice, Lex drew him closer for a kiss. "I am, Clark, I'm just..." And this was what it was about really. Not the inconvenience, not the extraordinary appeal of Lex's come, but this ridiculously childish thing that he was having trouble even finding words for.

"Just what?" Reaching out, Clark gently touched his arm.

Sighing, Lex said it. "It's just...could you try and make me feel a little less like a Meals on Wheels?" He saw Clark's blink, but he'd started and he wasn't stopping until he was done. "Lately it feels like all you want me for is my come. My cock. And, I can't believe I'm about to say this, but sometimes I actually get a little tired of having my cock sucked." It wasn't rational - he knew Clark loved him - but he felt it all the same. "I mean, when you do need to do it, maybe you could try and add the occasional splash of romance. Not that the brusque thing isn't sexy, but a little variety wouldn't hurt."

Nodding slowly, Clark stroked his arm. "You're right, I'm sorry. We only really see each other now when I need you, and that's not fair to either of us. How about, tonight, we both shove work aside and watch a movie on the sofa together?"

Oh, that sounded like heaven. "That sounds wonderful, Clark."

"And later on," Clark continued, leaning forward to nip at Lex's neck, "but only if you want to, of course," a kiss on the side of Lex's jaw, "you can fuck me. And my mouth won't go anywhere near your dick."

A ridiculous level of gratitude stampeded through Lex's body. "You mean it? You really won't suck my cock?"

"I promise," Clark replied with a smile, moving his hand until it rested over his heart. "Now, let's move this somewhere more comfortable."

Lex liked that idea, and as he stood up and watched Clark's ass when he walked out of the room, he decided he liked all of the evening's ideas.

Romance, sex, and no cock-sucking! Now life really was perfect.

~FINIS

leave a comment // e-mail // sv fic