Note: Thanks also to
happyminionhackthisKiss This Guy
Notes: Originally appeared in my LJ.
Dedication: Happy birthday, goss! This is also a thank you for the gorgeous
manip
goss did of Heat!Lex and Red!Clark. Definitely the majority of the
inspiration for this story. Hope you enjoy it, hon. *hugs*
Note: Thanks also to happyminionhackthis
"Jimi Hendrix was gay."
Lex pulled the bottle of Tynant away from his lips, staring at Clark in
bemusement while he silently thanked whatever deity had prompted Clark to speak
before Lex had taken a drink. Lex Luthor and spit-takes do not belong in the
same stratosphere, ever. That said, Lex firmly believed that Clark's outrageous
statement -- apropos of nothing in the conversation they'd been having -- would
have had expensive water spewing all over designer clothing. Not a pretty mental
image, but that wasn't the main thing striking him dumb. Carefully setting the
blue bottle on his desk, Lex studied Clark's benign expression. Lex must have
misheard him. No one spoke such blasphemy with that much detachment. "You
want to run that by me again?"
Clark shrugged, his vibe all casual-conversation as he replied. "I said,
Hendrix was gay. I mean... um, Lex? Is there some reason you're staring up at
the ceiling instead of looking at me?"
"I'm waiting for a bolt of lightning to strike you down for that
comment." The gods of rock and roll must be busy, given the delay. Maybe
some boy band was remaking a Stones classic, thus saving Clark's ass from a good
frying. "I should ask you to back up so I don't get hit with
aftershocks."
Clark raised a brow at him, expression showing a complete lack of fear or
repentance. Lex almost felt sorry for him -- such naiveté in the face of
imminent death. "You don't get struck down for telling the truth, Lex.
There's plenty of evidence that I'm right."
Lex considered this conversation plenty of evidence that Clark had lost his
mind. Or given up on the "just say no" thing. Drugs could explain his
sudden Hendrix reference as well. Maybe the rock gods were lenient with first
time offenders if their judgment was impaired by hallucinogens. They'd certainly
be the most sympathetic audience to that particular malady. "What evidence?
Hendrix was a legend with women. If you watched 'Behind The Music', you'd know
that."
Clark waved a dismissive hand. "Groupies don't mean anything. That's all
PR." Clark then stood up and started pacing, as though proving his
misconception would be easier while parading himself back and forth animatedly
in front of Lex's desk. Sadly, Lex thought that was potentially true. A moving
demonstration of Clark's considerable assets encased in tight denim tended to
impair Lex's ability to think straight. Lex thinking straight wasn't remotely
possible while in Clark's presence, and... his mental wanderings had led him to
miss part of Clark's recitation. "Then there's the outfits. I mean, come
on. The scarves and stuff? That just screams gender bender."
"Steven Tyler uses scarves all the time. I don't suppose you're suggesting
that he's...?" Clark's tilted head and smirk were all the reply Lex needed.
"Tyler has a very hot daughter, in case you've forgotten, and... Let's not
go there, Clark. I'm traumatized enough by your misguided effort to out Jimi
Hendrix."
Clark chuckled at him. "Don't be so naive, Lex." Clark calling Lex
naive? What kind of screwed-up parallel universe had they fallen into? Maybe
*Lex* was the one on drugs, though he couldn't recall taking any, or enjoying
them, for that matter. "It's right there in the lyrics to 'Purple Haze'. If
Hendrix wasn't gay, do you honestly think he'd sing a lyric like 'scuze me while
I kiss this guy'? That makes no sense at all."
Ahhhh... the pieces falling into place, finally. Lex relaxed back into the seat,
folding his arms lightly. "Clark, you've made the classic mistake of
mishearing-"
"And besides that," Clark interrupted as though Lex hadn't spoken,
hands gesticulating as he warmed to his topic, "what's so traumatizing
about a guitar god being gay? I think it's great! Really lends a cache to the
lifestyle, if you ask me."
Cache? Back to the drug explanation, because this just got even weirder. Maybe
they'd both been drugged. Lex would have to get some DEA-trained shepherds to go
through the pantry. The cook must have put some special ingredient in the sugar
cookies they'd been snacking on. "You've lost me again."
Clark moved around the side of Lex's desk, leaning back against the glass top
and looking down into Lex's eyes. Lex guessed this was an attempt to augment
enthusiasm with proximity to get Lex's agreement. Too bad it was likely to work.
"Think about it, Lex. Hendrix is an icon, the ultimate in cool. It means
more than someone like Elton John or George Michael coming out."
Lex refrained from pointing out that wardrobe had outed both of those performers
quicker than press conferences and tabloids had. He was more curious about
Clark's motivation. "Is there some reason you're anxious for gay to be
considered cool?" Various reasons flitted through Lex's mind while he
waited for Clark's reply. He certainly didn't expect Clark's answer to be the
one he hoped for, but hope has an addictive quality as well, and Lex felt like
indulging it for a few moments.
After interminable seconds of contemplating the universal significance of his
shoes, Clark finally met Lex's gaze again. A high flush stained his cheeks and
Lex noticed a faint tremor in the hand Clark placed on the back of Lex's chair
as he leaned down. "Actions speak louder than words, right? But I'm going
to borrow from Jimi anyway." Clark moving even closer, and Lex knew for
certain that drugs had to be involved in this somehow. Clark's hand gently
sliding around the back of his head, the breath soft against his own lips, the
green eyes lit from within intently studying Lex's reaction... none of it could
be real. "Scuze me while I kiss this guy."
The gentle pressure of soft lips stole Lex's ability to think about
hallucinogens or restraint or anything else. Nothing but contact and heat and
wet as he parted his lips in invitation. Clark's tongue slid over his, marking
him with slow gentle strokes that became increasingly more urgent and needy.
Greedy tongue tracing over his, shifting up to trail a line of heat on his
palate, exploring every inch of his mouth, and Lex reciprocated, pressing back
insistently with his own tongue. Gaining entrance to Clark's mouth and learning
the feel of it one stroke at a time.
Lex didn't know how they ended up on the floor. He couldn't recall how he ended
up straddling Clark's hips, or when they had started grinding against each
other. But it happened and it seemed to go on forever. Making out like a
teenager in the backseat of a car, and it felt more erotic than fucking did half
the time. Hands explored, learning what elicited a gasp or a moan, what inspired
a twist or a squeeze or an abrupt thrust. It was everything Lex had wanted and
never anticipated getting. Eventually, when they were wrapped up in each other's
arms on the couch, sticky with sweat and breathing heavily to replace lacking
oxygen, Lex even came to believe it was real.
"I hope it won't wreck the mood if I tell you that you got the lyrics to
'Purple Haze' wrong," Lex commented, lacing his fingers with Clark's.
"What he actually says is-"
"Scuze me while I kiss the sky," Clark supplied, a slightly wicked
smirk floating across kiss-swollen lips as he laughed. "I knew that. Found
a web site of commonly misheard song lyrics the other day." Clark shifted
on the couch so he could look more directly at Lex. "But I like the wrong
words better."
Lex smiled into the lips lightly teasing his. "They certainly made for a
good segue. I think we can keep them."
As the kiss deepened, Lex decided that along with incorrect song lyrics, hope
was an addiction he could keep.
-- End --