Fandom: Smallville
Rating: R
Category: Angst
Notes: coda for Trespass. 1,000 words. Thanks to lola and
jfc for the beta.
Warnings: Spoilers for Trespass.
Feedback: Yes please that would be very nice. Feedback is
very much appreciated.
Disclaimer: Smallville belongs to DC Comics. I am just
playing.
Summary: After Lex, Clark can't sleep.
There's a cold wind blowing across the fields. It started just after Lex left. Clark turns out the light in his room and lies back in his soft bed, listening to the howl of the wind. He realizes that before Lex stopped in to personally deliver the wedding invitation, his mood had been neutral. He'd been sanding the rocking chair and thinking of nothing in particular. Not even Lana.
Then Lex had blown in and broken Clark's concentration. It was another unfair moment in a long string of unfair moments. Now he just wants to sleep. It isn't that he's tired--he almost never is these days--but with sleep he can at least drift out of his life and forget everything, even if it's just for a few hours. In his dreams, he can stop lying to himself.
But he can't sleep. He tosses and turns, his mind on the invitation he left downstairs on the kitchen counter to deal with in the morning after a good night's rest. No matter how many times he tells himself to stop thinking about what had happened with Lex, his mind won't shut down. He needs release and his body agrees.
Clark reaches under the cotton sheets and brushes his hand across the front of his boxers. His cock has already grown hard, pushing against the worn fabric of his shorts. With a heavy sigh, Clark lifts his ass off the warmed sheets and tugs his boxers down past his thighs. He flings the sheets aside and hisses as cool air caresses his hardening cock.
Around him, the house creaks, and his bed shifts. Clark closes his eyes and imagines Lex as he was today, his dark clothes perfectly tailored to fit his sleek form. He doesn't even pretend anymore that Lex is not who he fantasies about when he's alone in the dark.
It's never been anyone but Lex.
Clark lifts his t-shirt to trail his fingers over his belly, imagining the fingers belong to someone else. In his head, the visit from Lex goes differently. Lex is there to demand retribution for Clark's behavior. He doesn't want an apology. He doesn't want Clark to tell the truth. All Lex wants is for Clark to strip and offer himself as sacrifice. He's naked in front of Lex, ass in the air and arms bound tightly, so there's no escaping his deserved punishment. Behind him, Lex has pulled his own long, thick cock out and he's telling Clark he's going to fuck him hard enough to make Clark beg forgiveness.
Clark's cock is so hard now, it aches to be touched, but he holds off and pinches his nipples between his fingers. The feeling makes his cock jump and slap against his skin, pre-come leaking from the tip. His ass lifts off the bed as his balls tighten. He has to touch, but he can't reward himself like that. Not just yet.
With one hand, Clark rolls his left nipple between his fingers, pinches it harder and harder until he can feel it burn. It's never been as easy for him to get past that threshold of pleasure and pain. He's the only one who can make it happen. In his fantasy, Lex is reaching out to grab hold of Clark's hair as he pushes deep inside him, fills him with his thick cock, so full Clark wants to cry out in ecstasy, but he doesn't. Lex tells him he isn't allowed to cry out. Clark holds on. Lex thrusts deeper and deeper, stretches him wide. Clark repeats that image in his head over and over. Lex thrusting deeper. Lex pushing harder. Lex filling him to the brim, until Clark can no longer take what Lex does to him.
Clark can't hold off. His hand slips down, grabs hold of his own hard shaft, and strokes it viciously. Blindly he reaches out with his free hand for lube, coats his fingers then spreads his legs wide, seeking out his pulsing asshole. Clark groans with relief as he plunges his fingers inside himself, uncaring that he's just knocked his elbow against the corner of the nightstand. It smashes from the blow, all his belongings spilling onto the carpet. Clark is too lost in his dream now to care about much else. He needs this release. He has to see it to its final conclusion.
He strokes his cock from base to tip, and squeezes the head in his fist. There's so much pre-come and his balls are tightening and his ass clenches around his fingers. In his head, he hears Lex's voice say over and over: "I want you to see what you lost," as he pushes deep into Clark.
Clark's head is pressed against his pillow, and his eyes are squeezed tightly shut. Beneath him, the bed shudders with each stroke, and slams against the wall. The hand on his cock is a blur. He thrusts his fingers in and out, brushes against the spot inside, and licks the moisture from his upper lip. He strokes his cock over and over, then in his mind the scene changes. He's jerking off like this in his loft, his fingers buried deep inside when Lex stops by to see him. Lex is caught off guard, but he doesn't hesitate to lend a helping hand. He's climbing on top of Clark, slapping Clark's own hand away to take control.
Clark's moans filled the air and he speeds up his strokes at the thought. His ass clenches tightly around his fingers, and his balls tighten. His whole body is on fire. He can't stop himself. He thinks he calls Lex's name out loud, but he can't be sure. His whole body spasms and he comes over and over, painting his chest with hot ribbons of white fluid. He doesn't stop the stroke. He wants the orgasm to last forever. He opens his eyes and stares down at his fisted cock, willing it to never stop. As though his body hears him, he shoots again with his next stroke.
Spent and out of breath, Clark collapses, one hand still holding his now-limp cock. He reaches out and wipes the sticky lubricant from his other hand on his t-shirt. He can't move. Every muscle in his body is spent. Maybe Clark did miss out on something more with Lex, but he'll never know, because all he has now are his fantasies.
End