RIM

by Kitty Fisher

Lex was hurt again. Nothing major. No broken bones or deep tissue damage. Just a small cut on his hand, made by Clark as he handed over a bottle at the moment Lex had mentioned sex. The glass had broken, as had Lex's skin. Blood welling in drops. Each so perfectly red and wet; marring the pale skin with something that made them both pause.

Clark looked, hesitated, then he bent forward, and licked. His tongue was wide and hot and very slightly textured. There was no need to talk about sex again.

They walked to the bedroom. Quite calm. Not touching. The house like a morgue around them, cold and uninviting. All the warmth was in Lex's room. Heat pushed up to high, warm colours, soft velvets, beading and tassels on the cushions heaped onto the wide bed.

With a sweep of his hand, Lex scattered them all onto the floor, then he pushed Clark down. Smiled. And held his hand out, cut forward. Clark gave a small smile and licked again. Sucking blood as he tongued firmly, eyes wide, dilated. Lex took in a sharp breath as Clark watched him. Mirror images, reflecting need, desire. Want.

"Clark..."

Silence, though Clark still kissed the hand held before him. Mouthing upwards, half–closing his eyes.

"Clark..." Thready voice. Need so sweet as the control slipped. Young voice. "Have you ever — Oh...what have you done? Before?"

"Nothing." Pause for one word then back to skin. Eating Lex from the hand up, sucking, leaving bruise–red patches on his arm. Growling as the sleeve got in the way .

"Jesus!" Teeth biting. Lex's cock so hard there were dark specks floating before his retina.

"But—" Suck. "I want—" Bite. "Everything—"

"Yes." What was there to deny? Fuck qualms, fuck whatever was considered goddamned inappropriate. "Yes."

Hand pulled away, Lex shrugged out of his shirt. He bit his lip as Clark's hands were on him at once, big and warm and strong. No subtlety — just taking, touching. Clark clumsy, gauche. Hotter than anybody, ever.

Knee on the bed, hand on Clark's shoulder, pushing him back. Taking them both down. Kissing. Heat on heat. Groaning as hands pulled and grabbed. Skin yielding. Clothes sliding away, unfastened, sloughed like dragon–skins. Flesh underneath. Jewel pale. The secret hoarded self. Given. Mouthed and mouthing in return, kisses like rubies burning onto skin. Need, bright as sunlight though coloured glass.

Pushing Clark back. Urging him up the bed. Lex flushed, mouth swollen. Greedy. "Turn over."

The task done at once. And the body spreading for him. Honey skin on gold Byzantine fabric. He knew he'd never throw it away. He'd touch it every night and think of this, of Clark waiting, hands clutching at the weave, bunching the cloth, unsure and yet so certain. Trust, there, in the way his thighs fell open, in the tiny ripples of anticipation that made Lex moan silently.

"Fuck, you're perfect, Clark. So perfect."

"Fuck me then."

Jolt so hard Lex almost came. Giddying moment, all the air sucked away by the few words. Fuck. Clark. But...

First time.

There were memories. Ones no one should have. He denied them even when solitary. Here? He wouldn't replicate anything close. Ever. Not with this... gift.

Lex bent over one shoulder and kissed it. A few freckles under the skin and he kissed the tiny constellation. Charted his way south.

Lush dip of spine into rising buttock. Kissing there, where the fine hairs shifted delicately under his tongue. Tracing his name, l e x, marking Clark as his own. Secret writing. Claiming, a document written in lust.

Spreading Clark's thighs with a touch, kneeling between. Feeling the sudden tension, the willingness despite the fear. Lex smiled. Bending forward, cock seeping precum onto the bed. Gasping as the tip rubbed into the rough wool. Smiling as he continued writing. Tongue language. Language. Lingua franca. Writing secrets in code. Mysterious words that made Clark squirm and pump his hips. Hand under him, making him cry out as Lex gripped him. Held him, stopping him humping the bed.

"Not yet..."

"But..."

"I want your ass." Smile as secret as the writing.

"Oh God."

"But not to fuck. At least not with my cock."

Body held in suspended disbelief. "Wha—"

"You know what I mean, Clark?" Kissing skin again between each word, spine, coccyx, muscled arc of skin. Fleshy. More fine hairs; down rather than fur. Running his tongue flat along the cleft. Then back down. Darker hair. Sweat and musk and Clark–scent. Like mainlining desire. He was breathing, sucking in the tangibility, the lush sweet boy–skin. Pressing his face to it. Burying himself, breathing in the darkness, the heat, almost drooling as Clark shuddered and groaned and gasped. Disbelief. Knowing. Lex understood it all.

Leaning back, breathing, he spread Clark's ass, watched the spasming centre of Clark's body. Tiny opening. Dark pink. Brown. Skin tightening into a tight whorl that would open wide. Soon. Oh God, soon... But—

Lex kissed it instead. Mouth to asshole. Licking his lips and pushing against the sweat–slippery opening. Pushing just to feel the resistance; the muscle in tiny fluttery spasms. Sweet against his lips. Perfect moment. Held until Clark was begging. Small words sobbed into the bed. Held beyond that and Clark was cursing. Delicious words, carnal, obscene; virgin words on his fuck–me mouth.

Lex slid his tongue out between his lips. Licked.

Clark jerked. "Lex!"

He could spend hours here. Tiny lick. Rewarded by another agonised cry of his name. Another. This time teasing the rim. Tongue sliding back and forth in a circle. Pushing in a tiny, incremental measure each time. Opening Clark. Opening. Sliding his tongue into darkness. Tight, tight darkness that gave, eased. Wanted.

Lex moaned. Pumping his tongue deep as it would go. Root deep in asshole. Held there. Breath trapped. Airless. Holding and holding until Clark was pounding the bed with his fists and screaming.

Taste like nothing else. Sweaty, delirious boy. Still not breathing, no air. Holding so tight as Clark's thighs spasmed around him. The darkness behind his closed eyes speckling with light. Moaning. And sliding free. Breathing hard. Gasping. Gasping for air, for the unbelievable. Cock ready to burst, just from doing this. Tongue fucking a virgin. Rimming Clark. Sweet innocent Clark who would blush tomorrow whenever he thought of this, of Lex with his face pressed to his ass; blushing, though the thought would make him hard every single fucking time.

Lex knew. He just knew.

One hand gripping Clark's cock. A squeeze as he slid his tongue out. Another as he licked. Licking as he jerked Clark off. Once. Again. And Clark screamed. Spunk, hot and wet, smothering his hand, cock pumping in the tightness of his grip, rippling as load after load shot onto the bed, between his belly and Lex's hand, sticky and sexy and Lex couldn't stop. Pressing his face tight into hot flesh, he breathed. Sucking in Clark. His Clark. And came hard himself. Untouched. Sound and scent and sensurround enough to sky–dive him fast over the edge, free–falling into space. Jerking again and again. Mind gone, thought absent; destroyed by the blinding rush.

Later. Blinking. Face still pressed to shuddering skin. Levering up with a groan. Soft suction as wet flesh parted.

Kneeling. Crawling upwards, helped by a hand that pulled him close. Tugging him into an enveloping hug.

Smiling as Clark kissed his hand. Then his mouth. Sighing.

No words. None needed. Everything else would come with time.

END