Stealing (aka Garage Porn)
Notes: Originally appeared in my LJ.
Lex puts the Jag in park and cuts the engine, taking a deep breath and
exhaling a frustrated curse into the quiet interior of the car. It's days like
these that he's glad of the fact that he doesn't carry firearms to the office.
Control could likely give way to the momentary relief and satisfaction of ending
this twisted familial power struggle in the most efficient way possible. Even as
wound up with rage as he still is, Lex knows that shooting his father in front
of the board of directors of LuthorCorp would not be the best choice for a long
term solution. There's more than one way to resolve this, and violence, while
palatable and quick, has too many unpleasant repercussions to be viable.
Well, at least not witnessed violence, and he's going to remember to bring the
tazer on his next visit to Metropolis. He wouldn't use it, of course, but the
mental image of dear old Dad quivering like a fish out of water might be enough
to salve Lex's anger.
And really, one little jolt couldn't do that much damage, right?
Pressing a button on the dash before he opens the car door; listening to the
quiet hum of the motor as the garage door slides shut. He gets out, leaning back
in to grab his briefcase from the passenger seat and resisting the urge to abuse
the car by slamming it closed. Probably a good thing that he hadn't conjured the
image of his dad's head in the open space between the frame and the door until
after he'd already shut it.
One does not take out familial rage on the automobiles. They get one from here
to there in style, and wrecking one when enraged with one's father leads to a
sound scolding from one's farmboy lover.
The familiar lecture about his reckless driving habits had been annoying, but
the spanking afterwards had been more than pleasurable. He'd placed considerable
thought to staging a repeat performance, but Clark had read Lex's expression
well enough to threaten abstinence the next time one of the cars ended up in the
body shop for no good reason.
Lex is smirking at the memory as he rounds the hood of the Jag. Smile vanishing
and head whipping around in confusion when he hears a cracking sound and the
garage plunges into darkness. Seconds later, someone grabs him from behind, one
hand closing over his throat and the other locking around his chest. Lex hasn't
even begun to struggle when a low voice whispers in his ear. "What do you
have worth taking?"
Relief at the familiar, poorly disguised voice has Lex biting back a laugh.
"Clark? What's this- ?"
The hand on his throat tightens just a bit in silent warning, stopping his
words. "Answer my question."
Play acting? Interesting development in Clark's sexual learning curve here, and
Lex grins into the pitch black. "Nothing, I'm afraid."
The hand on his chest slides lower, cupping his cock through his pants.
"Liar. You have what I want."
Lex licks his lips, trying to remember to play along when all he wants is a
good, hard fuck. "And you think I'll give it up to just anyone? I'm not
that easy."
Clark does a slow hip roll, grinding himself against Lex's ass and stroking his
shaft in a simultaneous motion. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be
begging me for it. And you won't get it *until* you beg."
Lex can't help pressing forward into Clark's hand, game or no game. He *needs*
this, and he has little patience to wait for it. "What happens when I
beg?"
Clark's hand is *finally* moving to the closure of his pants. Belt gone in a
blink, button open and zipper undone, and Clark's fingers close around him. The
fast, rough stroking starts before Lex's slacks have even hit the floor.
"Then I bend you over this hood and fuck you *hard*."
Jesus Christ... he's ready to beg already. Clark's mouth is at the back of his
neck, biting a chain from ear to ear as the hand on his cock moves even harder
and faster. The other hand has found its way to the buttons of his shirt,
shoving the tie aside, undoing two buttons and slipping beneath the fabric to
trace meaningless patterns on his skin. Blunt fingers finding the spike of a
nipple and twisting, and Lex bites his lip against a moan of pure need. "I
know you want it. You're hard for me. You're going to come in my hand any second
now."
It's true, and Lex is holding back against it. Wants Clark inside him when he
goes over, but he's not going to last through this for long. Tension bleeding
out with every stroke, and he can't even ask Clark to slow down. Needs the
release as much as he's fighting it. "I. Won't. Beg."
Slow lick around the shell of his ear, and Clark perversely -- cleverly -- slows
the tempo. "You will. We both know it. I can keep you on the edge for
hours. Make this easy. Just ask for it."
Clark's hand releasing his cock completely and drifting down to slowly caress
his balls, tiny squeeze that shoots liquid fire down Lex's spine. He can feel
the length of Clark's erection pressed to the cleft of his ass, just another
tease, and he's played the game for as long as he can stand. Tries one last
gambit, pressing his hips back in a taunt of his own. "Give it to me."
Hand back on his cock in reward, but only holding. Not moving at all, and it's
almost worse than nothing. "That's not good enough. Specifics are important
here."
"Fuck me."
Lex hears a slicking sound in the dark, familiar and God, *finally*. Hand on his
back, pressing him forward against the hood of the Jag, and Lex spreads his
hands on the smooth surface for leverage. "You forgot something."
Head of Clark's cock pressed into his ass, not moving any further, and when did
Clark learn how to be this controlled? "What? Fucking hell, I can't
think-"
"Say please."
Anything. Shit, anything to get him to *move*. "Fuck me, *please*."
The stretch and burn are instantaneous, mind bending and addicting. Clark knows
Lex's limits, knows how to push them. More importantly, he knows *when* to push
them, and he's doing it now. Thrusting hard and fast, keeping his promise, and
Lex is grunting with the effort to keep the pace. Clark's hands are busy
steadying his hips, so Lex reaches down to jack himself. Doesn't want Clark
distracted from the needed brutality of the fuck, and Lex is shaking with the
release of one tension and the build of another. Muscles clenching spasmodically
all over his body as he sweats and strains and pushes with everything he has.
Clark's thrusting is almost frenzied now, no rhythm at all, and the wildness of
it sends Lex over the edge. Hot come pouring into his hand as Clark continues
thrusting and grunting in the dark behind him. Can't see his face, but Lex has
the memories to fill in the blanks. Mind providing the image to go along with
Clark's orgasm as he stiffens and jerks against Lex, buried to the hilt inside
as he comes hard enough for Lex to feel it echoing through him too.
Clark pulls out and turns Lex around, lips seeking and finding his in the dark.
Long, slow and hot, both of them languorous in the aftermath. Lex pulls Clark
back with a hand in his hair, leaning in to press their foreheads together while
he catches his breath. "Thank you, Clark."
Clark's hands running up and down his back, gentling him now. "My
pleasure."
"How did you know I needed this?"
A soft chuckle meets his ears. "You father's secretary called. She
mentioned something about faxing over a 'cease fire'. I figured you had a bad
day."
"Yeah," Lex sighs softly. "This was a hell of a day, but the
night is making up for it in spades."
He can feel Clark grinning at him in the dark. "It'll be even better next
time."
Lex smiles, running his lips over to Clark's ear and nibbling at the lobe.
"Really. How can it get better than this?"
"Well, now that I know you like this, I'll be better prepared next
time."
"Better prepared?"
"One word -- props."
-- The End --