Directory Assistance

Notes: Before the season started, several Exile pics showed up at K-site. One in particular was of Clark in a phone booth (you know the one; the pic that launched a thousand LJ icons *G*), and it sent my mind to a very dirty place. While inspired by the pic, this has no spoilery content from Exile.

Happy birthday, _nepthys_! Also for semisuper's Talk Dirty To Me challenge. Thanks to lyra_sena for the beta.

"Unbutton your shirt."

Clark blinks. He holds the phone away from his ear and looks at it as though it's just grown tentacles. "Lex, I told you, I called your cell from a phone booth. I can't-"

"Yes, you can. Look around. Do you see anyone?"

Clark turns his head, and the street does seem deserted. Not surprising at 4 AM, just off campus. He'd wanted to call where he'd have a little privacy, because whining to your mogul boyfriend that he’s been away too long on his business trip isn't something that's done with anything resembling cool. And Clark's roommate is a light sleeper.

"No, but-"

"Then unbutton your shirt, Clark. Now."

Clark glances down at his shirt, and he could... His face heats, just thinking about it. Stripping in a phone booth. Who the hell does that? "Okay, Lex."

"You unbuttoned it?"

"Yeah." Clark shifts, a little uncomfortably, and tugs at his collar.

Lex's voice ices over slightly. "No, you didn't. I've told you you're a bad liar, Clark. One of these days, you'll believe me. Now... unbutton it. And don't lie again."

Clark flushes and takes another look around. Why not? There's no one to see him, right? He wedges the receiver between his cheek and shoulder, slips the buttons through the holes quickly, and blows out a nervous breath.

"Okay, Lex. My shirt is unbuttoned. Now why-"

"Is it tucked in?"

"Yes, I-"

"Un-tuck it, and undo the rest of the buttons."

"Lex? This is-"

"Do it, Clark."

Lex's voice commands in low, silken tones, and Clark doesn't know why Lex is doing this, but he's just going to go with it. He jerks the shirt out of his waistband and undoes the bottom buttons, leaving the tails of the midnight blue silk resting on his thighs. He'd worn this because it made him miss Lex less to feel the fabric on his skin. Lex had bought Clark the shirt for his last birthday, but it always felt too decadent to wear to class, so he'd only had it on twice before this. The last time he'd worn it was to a dinner at Lex's penthouse, and he hadn't gotten to the dry cleaners afterwards. Lex's cologne still clings to the fabric, and if Clark were to close his eyes, he could almost imagine Lex is with him, not in Madrid closing a deal.

"Okay... shirt's un-tucked."

"Good, Clark. Now, close your eyes."

Clark shoots a nervous glance at the street behind him. Still no one there, but that could change any instant, and a guy in a phone booth with his shirt open and his eyes closed? "Lex, you do remember the part where I'm in public, right?"

"Close your eyes, Clark."

Just a hint of steel under the smooth tone, and... okay, so it's a little weird. He misses Lex too much to piss him off and end up talking to dead air. He lets his eyelids drift down and finds his voice dropping for some reason. "They're closed, Lex."

He feels the warmth of Lex's approval through the phone line. "I'm with you now, pressed into that tiny space. Just the two of us. Nothing but four walls of glass between us and the rest of the world. Do you feel me, Clark?"

Clark's breath shudders when he exhales, and the moist heat of his breath brings the renewed scent of Lex's cologne to him when it hits the shirt's fabric. "Yeah..."

"What am I doing, Clark? Tell me."

"You... your hands are sliding up my chest, and you lean in and lick my neck."

"I know you like that, what else?"

Clark rolls his lip into his mouth, wetting it, his own hands coming up to finger his nipples. "You're kissing my neck now, biting down lightly, sucking. Then you move up to my mouth-"

"You can't talk if I'm kissing you, Clark."

"Right, so... you nibble across my jaw, and..." Clark pants out a frustrated laugh. "Lex, you're such a fucking tease."

"But I'm right there with you, Clark. I'm not teasing. I'm getting you ready. We're so close in the booth, almost claustrophobic..."

Clark picks up the thread, losing himself in the images behind his eyelids. "So close, it's almost like there's no clothes between us. I can feel every inch of you pressed against me, but I wouldn't let you any further away, even if there was more room to move."

"I wouldn't go anywhere. And I'm unbuttoning your jeans."

"Fuck... Lex, come on-"

"Unbutton your jeans, Clark."

He's not even going to pretend he can say no to that voice. Clumsy fingers unfasten the button, brushing against his erection and making him groan. "You... they're unbuttoned."

"And I'm slipping my fingers along the waistband, just inside, running across your skin. Do you feel it?"

Clark's fingers move without thought, mimicking the motions Lex murmurs into his ear. "Yes, I ... God, Lex. I can't take any more of this."

"You can, Clark. You will."

Clark leans his forehead against the wall of the booth, his sweat smearing the glass, stealing some of the heat from his skin. Lex's voice through the phone makes him even hotter, and Clark's waiting for steam to start rising off his skin. It's going to happen any second now. "Lex..."

"I'm touching you, now. Outside your jeans. It's so close in here, so tight, I can barely get a hand between us, but I know you need it, so I manage it. I'm pressing the heel of my hand on your cock, giving you something to rock against. Do it, Clark. Now."

And there's a tiny portion of Clark's brain that realizes it's his own palm cupping his erection, that he's humping his hand in a phone booth at 4 AM in the morning. Most of him is lost, living in the twilight world Lex is building with his voice. Clark pants heavily into the phone, writhing against the too tight denim of his jeans. "God, Lex... I'm gonna-"

"Stop, Clark. Now."

His body and mind both scream no, and he's seriously considering what kind of torture will be recompense for Lex doing this to him. "Lex, I-"

"Don't come, Clark. I mean it."

Clark lets his hand fall away, his cock swollen to near pain. He drops his head back against the glass wall of the booth, banging it a few times while he catches his breath and tries to contain his frustration. "Why, Lex?"

"Turn around."

When he does, he sees Lex leaning against the fender of the limo, closing his phone with a flick of his fingers. Clark bolts out of the phone booth and presses Lex against the side of the car before the call disconnects.

He needs Lex too much for talk to be the first consideration. Clark cups Lex's face in his hands, giving him a desperate kiss, sloppy and a little rough. Lex's hands slide around his waist, under the open tails of the shirt, and he's clinging to Clark as tightly as Clark is holding him. When Clark finally comes up for air, he breathes harshly against Lex's mouth, only moving far enough away to allow them both to draw oxygen. "You're not due back for two days."

So mundane, but he's not really thinking straight just yet and probably won't be for quite some time. Lex's hands wander on Clark's skin, as though he needs reassurance that the separation is over as much as Clark does. "I can go, if it's a problem."

Clark growls under his breath, and moves his hands to Lex's hips, pulling him in closer. "Not funny, Lex." Clark starts moving against Lex, needing the stimulation too much to stop himself. "How did you find me?"

Lex chuckles, nipping at Clark's lips before he answers. "I've found a new use for my reverse phone number directory and the limo's GPS system." He pushes Clark back a step, moving with him, and reaches for the door handle. "I think we should take this inside." He tugs Clark after him, ducking into the limo and sliding across the seat to make room. "There are some activities that a phone booth can't accommodate."

Once the door shuts behind Clark, Lex's hands do the talking rather than his mouth. He pushes the shirt off Clark's shoulders, and while Clark is shucking it the rest of the way off, Lex slides to his knees on the floorboard. He makes quick work of the zipper, reaching inside Clark's boxers and pulling out his erection. Clark moans, arching up into Lex's hand. Lex leans down, lapping at the precome pearling on the head of Clark's cock, and Clark yelps, his hips jerking off the seat.

Lex takes him in, and that's all the stimulation it takes to trigger Clark's orgasm. He comes in hot bursts into Lex's mouth, muscles jerking spasmodically. Black spots taint his vision before it blows white with sparks of light.

When he can think again, he sees Lex stripping down. The belt, socks and shoes already discarded, he's working on his pants. Clark catches Lex's eyes, and the expression in them makes his pulse accelerate again -- pupils blown wide, a slight flush in his skin, and Clark knows what's next. He inhales deeply, biting at his lip as a renewed rush of lust rolls through his system. He shimmies out of his jeans, dropping them and his socks to the floor.

Clark turns on the seat, coming up on his hands and knees, spreading his thighs until one knee is pressed to the back of the seat and the other is at the edge of it. He feels the cushion dip behind him when Lex kneels on it, then the press of a slick finger into him. Clark pushes back, feeling the pressure, spreading wide for it as another finger intrudes. They're both impatient -- Lex swearing under his breath, the stretch of his fingers in Clark's ass rougher and less skilled than normal; Clark ramming himself back against Lex's hand, trying to force his body to adjust faster.

When Lex finally withdraws his fingers and lines up the head of his cock, Clark's half erect again. He focuses on the grain of the leather seat beneath him as Lex slowly pushes in, a fraction of an inch at a time. So slow, but the hand applying pressure to the small of Clark's back reminds him to be patient, to not drive back the way instinct screams at him to do. Inexorable possession as Lex buries himself within Clark, agonizing delay until he's in to the hilt.

The hand moves out of the way, and Lex leans down, covering Clark completely. His chest to Clark's back, Lex turns Clark’s chin with his hand. Licking his way into Clark's mouth, tongues tangling with the awkward angle, before Lex leans back. His hands clasp around Clark's shoulders as he straightens, and using the hold for leverage, he starts to thrust. Hard, almost punishing in the intensity of the strokes, and Clark pushes back into it. The slap of sweat-drenched skin colliding; grunts of exertion mingle with groans of pleasure. Clark balances on one hand and licks the other, bringing it down to his cock and fisting himself in the same rhythm that Lex strokes into his ass.

Lex's rhythm becomes erratic, and Clark can't follow it anymore. Lost in the dual sensation of his own hand and Lex's cock, he's teetering on the edge of a second orgasm. Lex stiffens against him, calling his name, and Clark feels the heat as Lex comes inside him. Lex collapses against him, mouth breathing humid air across Clark's back. When he pushes himself up, he reaches one hand around Clark's hip, joining their fingers together around Clark's cock. It's more than enough, and a few more strokes take Clark over, come spattering their hands and the black leather below him as Lex gentles him with his other hand, caressing Clark's back and hips.

After Lex pulls out of Clark, they collapse next to each other on the seat of the limo. Heavy breathing gives way to quiet kisses and touches not meant to stir but to calm. When they've recuperated enough, they pull their clothes back on, the act of redressing interrupted by the occasional brush of fingers or lips. Lex tosses Clark a cloth to clean up the seat as he intercoms the limo driver to head for the penthouse.

With the quiet hum of the engine and the wheels on the pavement lulling him toward sleep, Clark stifles a yawn with the backs of his knuckles. Lex runs his fingers through Clark's sweat damp hair, smoothing the curls back from his forehead and not doing much of anything to dissuade Clark from letting his eyes drift shut. "I can't believe you didn't tell me you were coming home tonight."

Lex's quiet chuckle rings in Clark's ears, half-mocking his petulance, half-reveling in it, and Clark feels a sleepy smile spread slowly on his own lips. "It's called a surprise, Clark. Some people happen to like those."

"Not complaining." A yawn interrupts his words, and Clark snuggles down into the seat, resting his head on Lex's shoulder. "Just missed you."

"I missed you, too," whispers across a kiss to Clark's temple as he drifts off to sleep.

-- End --

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