Luminosity
Notes: Thanks to Jenn for the AIM challenge, the beta, and the title.
The first time should never be about love.
It should be this -- heat and curiosity and flesh pressing and exploring. No words to interrupt *feeling*. All touch and instinct. Animalistic.
Clark knows this is right. It has to be. This unexpected explosion of hunger and pure need from one glance too many held an instant too long. A hazy summer night that hadn't cooled when the sun dropped from the sky hours before, perfectly emulating the moist heat claiming his body.
Suddenly stripped of clothing and inhibitions. Being possessed, being consumed, and he'd switched from prey to aggressor in the blink of an eye. No pretense at anything resembling foreplay, because it had been unnecessary. Unwanted. Only the fumbling rudiments of preparation before he was kneeling in the soft grass, pulling legs up and around his waist and finally -- *finally* -- taking. Feeling the grit of dirt boring into his knees when he'd made that first slow thrust inside.
Emotions should not be present for this, defiling the experience with inessentials. No thought. No words.
It should be written somewhere. Law.
He's losing himself in it now. Pushing deep, all the way in, and it's so *tight*. Hot and slow like dripping honey, speeding up as the harsh burn increases. Skin under his hands so much smoother than his own, coating slim muscles that flex as he arches again -- striving to go even deeper, to make an indelible mark. He feels the sweat beading on his brow as he reaches for... something. So different than the times he's touched himself, but it could have been anyone underneath him.
Anyone at all.
Doesn't matter, just to have this. The tightening inside him, the pulse of flesh around his pulling him in and pushing him to the edge. Friendship cast aside as secondary to *having*, and he closes his eyes against the sight of the person sweating and straining below him.
This is *his*, damn it. Not a shared experience at all except in the physical.
Don't muddy the waters.
Throws his head back as the intense blur of sensations increases. His eyes fly open to stare blindly up at the sky -- the only witness he wants to this -- as blank and dark and relentless as everything spinning through him. Unemotional. Unconnected.
Undone.
He'd somehow known it would be this way. Heat exploding along his nerves as everything builds up to an unsustainable level, but he holds on. Not yet. Feels the pulse of the first wave and just keeps thrusting, every sense attuned to the experience.
Sweet friction against his cock. Tight and hot and impossibly better than his hand had ever been. Soft moans and grunts alternately rumbling through his chest, the same from his partner meeting his ears -- inconsequential, pleasured noises.
Feels the perspiration dripping off, beading and pooling on the drenched skin abrading his where their bodies are locked and elsewhere. Leaning down and absently licking some of the mingled sweat with a brush of his tongue and the faint scrape of teeth, wanting the flavor to remember, too.
And as he thrusts through the orgasm, riding it to a place beyond thought, he finally looks down. Adding visual to the memory.
Clark had been alone in it before by choice. Now, he could watch.
Memorizing the sight of Lex below him, sweat-stained and panting and pressing against Clark's unmoving hips with thrusts of his own. Unguarded in a way he might regret later as he returns Clark's regard with unblinking intensity. So open -- uncontrolled need in Lex's face as he pushes himself to the brink. Clark's cock is still inside him, and the shifting of the encasing flesh sends aftershocks down his spine.
It's almost as pleasurable as coming inside him had been.
Clark takes an open-mouthed inhale of the air. Laden with humidity and sex, it settles on his tongue like raw cinnamon. Sweetly burning.
Lex is still skinning his cock with furious focus, and his hips bow upward when he finally comes. Guttural sound jerking out of him as his head flies back into the grass. Clark studying it all, committing it to memory, placing this on the shelf with everything he's learned on a summer night with his best friend on the back lawn.
The air altered in scent when it was charged with sex. The ozone thickening like it did before a thunderstorm -- rich with heat and body chemistry, smelling heavy and acrid.
Sweat was warm and salty, changing flavor inside sex to become something of faint sweetness. It tasted different when licked off the shoulder of a lover.
Sex sounded best when it was wordless, despite ridiculous romantic notions to the contrary. All moaning and the slap-slide of flesh impacting flesh, what nothing spoken could ever accurately express.
His hand could never replace another person -- tight, hot, responsive to touch. Encasing him, pulling him over, rubbing in ways he couldn't manage alone.
And watching... seeing someone else rather than the ceiling of his room or the fantasy images in his mind...
The first time should never be about love.
But looking at Lex, Clark thought that maybe the second time should be.
~ End ~