Author Notes: Pornotopia challenge fic. Blah on invulnerable hair-type things. For all I know, that's a kryptonite laced razor.

Dedication: To Wendi, Hope, Te, and Pricklyelf for being the readers who sat around giving me IDEAS and things and not telling me to go the hell away while being chatty. Te for nudging me through that damn IMPOSSIBLE scene. Love them. First line is from Wendi. Beth and Andy for being so cool. And everyone I've listed is working on fic as we speak. STALK THEM.

Disclaimer: If life was fair, but it's not, so...no.

"You're making me nervous."

Most of the time, Lex is scarily adult--important job, expensive clothes, fast cars, and that feeling off him like something not necessarily rich but--. Expensive? Casually so. Someone whose is used to money, has been used to money, has no idea what it's like to look at a bill and wonder if you can pay it.

But then there are moments like this. Lex in pajama bottoms and thick tube socks, looking at a razor with the same unwavering attention he's turned on reporters and stock reports. Something like calculating, and Clark wonders if there's some sort of complex math going on behind Lex's eyes, measuring the angle and the width of Clark's jaw as opposed to the two inch length of razor blade he's contemplating.

"You can still back out." Lex, amused. Little quirk to the side of his mouth, like at least half the joke's still in his head and will remain there. A significant tap to the sink and Lex steps back. "Sit. You're too tall to do this standing."

There's that smile--no, grin. Quick, fast, bright like a clear sky of stars, like Lex is forgetting something and enjoying the forgetting, and it's not the man he sees every day in expensive cars or the one in thousand dollar suits. It's just Lex. Happy.

When Lex looks like that, he can ask for a hell of a lot more than this and get it, no questions asked.

Gingerly, Clark scoots between Lex and the sink, pressing his hands to the cool marble and boosting himself up onto the wide marble counter. The hot water is on and the little container of shaving cream (when did Lex get that?) is sitting beside them.

"No. I'm not worried." Invulnerable skin, right? So far so good, and it's not like Lex can even give him those razor burns his dad gets sometimes when the razor's not sharp enough. Curling his fingers over the edge of the counter under his thighs, he leans forward as Lex picks up the washcloth from under the hot running water in the sink. The bathroom's huge, but it's already filling with thick white steam and the air seems heavier in his lungs.

The towel's hot--not uncomfortably hot, but enough for him to notice, and Lex holds it very carefully against his face. Even Lex's towels feel expensive, dense and soft, even when soaked in water. Smell vaguely of some expensively subtle detergent, like his sheets--not quite enough to identify as anything but good.

"That okay?" And the warmth is gone, Lex is setting it aside, and the razor is back. Dry mouthed, Clark nods, trying to relax into the sink and not look like he's at all nervous, because he isn't.

It's just--instinct says razors are dangerous. Instinct thinks that anyone, even your lover, holding a razor to your throat is a Bad Idea. And Lex's smile isn't helping much, like he's perfectly aware of everything that's going on in Clark's head and is seriously laughing his ass off inside, all of it said with a simple curve of his mouth.

"Okay," Clark answers and shuts his eyes when Lex picks up the foam. "Umm...gotta ask, Lex, how long have you been thinking about this?" Opening one eye, he catches another suppressed smile and flushes. "I mean, you know--prepared and all that."

"It's a razor and shaving cream. Not exactly exotic merchandise, Clark." Yes, Lex is laughing at him, dammit. Setting his lips together, he shuts his eyes, so the first touch of the cream on his face is--

--a little of a shock.

Lex does it with the same methodical care he does everything with, though, from working out budget reports to playing chess. Careful, even motions of his fingers sliding up Clark's neck, jaw, over his cheek, leaving an even layer that could probably be measured with a ruler for consistent thickness and be perfect. The smell's faintly citrus, nothing like the stuff dad keeps at home. Closer to Lex's scent, and it--really, really shouldn't be a turn-on, but it sort of is.

"All right." Faint sounds of the can being put away, then Lex's hand on his face, tilting his head forward, and, how odd, he can almost feel Lex's gaze on him, tracking his face. Trigonometry and geometry, the practical applications, and the tilting continues like Lex is trying to make a map and work out the optimum method of achieving the goal--that being the removal of stubble. Though--and Clark really has noticed this--Lex gets a huge kick out of it. And that--that's another hot image that has no place right now in the entire Shaving Experience. Keep cool, Clark.

He wonders how obvious it would be if he casually moved his hands to cover his lap.

The first touch is just below his Adam's apple, and Lex presses lightly, drawing the razor up with a single, smooth motion that's over before Clark has time to even consider flinching. Good, good. The razor goes under the faucet briefly, then returns, cutting another stripe up his throat. He won't tremble. He won't sweat. He won't wonder if this is the one time his powers are suddenly going to go off and invulnerability decides to take a holiday.

He's pretty sure Lex is in inner hysterics by this point.

Water again, and this is almost rhythmic, like Lex is shaving him to music. Stroke, rinse, stroke, rinse, and then the warm towel is pressed against his throat as Lex wipes away the excess.

The pause is so long and Lex's gaze is so obvious that Clark has to wonder if he's sending mental threats to any hairs who might or might not grow in the next few seconds or something.

"Okay." Slick fingers slide over his skin, something between an exam and a caress, but much more like foreplay when Lex is feeling lazy and just wants to touch him. Enough to drive him crazy sometimes, with the long, easy strokes that are so gentle it makes his teeth ache. "Look down." A gentle hand pulls and Clark lowers his head and takes the opportunity to carefully move his hands into his lap. Casually. Easy sprawl of fingers and no, he's not hiding anything.

The razor's on his jaw now, quick sweep up and stopping at just the right point. Another rinse, light tap, then Lex is back, tilting his head to the side. He can feel the heat of Lex's breath against his skin, wet and warm, as Lex does the next stroke, and then another, faster, like Lex is getting a rhythm he doesn't want to break. Clark's matching it with his breath and okay, this is weird and strange, but he's seriously enjoying this now that he's pretty sure that his jugular will remain intact.

"Interesting." Cool, calm voice, analytical, remarkably like the one Lex's used when reading through his private copy of Anarchist Cookbook and hunting up the more--questionable--chemistry experiments within. Another slow glide, and this is a lot like foreplay, and God, so embarrassing, so, so embarrassing.

Other side of his face, and Lex has found his pattern or maybe he's just getting bored, but it goes by way too fast. Stroke, rinse, stroke, rinse, Lex's fingers moving over the smooth skin too fast to track with anything but echoes of feeling. Then there's a step and Lex's hands are on his thighs, pushing them apart and stepping between.

Dear God....

"Just need to get to your mouth, Clark." A gentle hand is sitting in the small of his back and pulling him closer, and there's an inch and two pairs of very thin pajama pants between them. Clark wants to see if Lex is getting turned on or is just enjoying this moment from a purely experimental standpoint.

Maybe it's not as sexy to shave someone else.

The razor rests on his chin and the strokes are even slower. Almost--teasing? Short, small, the rhythm faster now, little short sweeps that end too fast and make Clark breathe out and try not to be too obvious doing it. Shaving is not sexy. It's--shaving. Mundane. Just something you do to avoid the entire beard-mustache situation. Just--

Gentle touch on his upper lip and Lex makes the final few strokes, before it's over. The sound of the water is loud and then the razor takes a station somewhere behind Clark, hopefully to be utilized again Real Soon Now (tomorrow, please), and the towel, hot and wet, is against his face. Gently wiping. Good place to hide what Clark thinks is a spectacular example of his ability to blush

"How was that?" The towel is gone, and Lex's hands are on his skin, tracking every inch of his face. Makes Clark wonder what it would be like to stretch out on Lex's bed naked and give him the razor and the shaving cream and see how this would feel all over his body.

Makes him think that he's really way too young to be this kinky yet. Really, really....

"Great," he mumbles, and Lex's hand on his jaw urges his head down. Little tilt of his head, Lex's smile that has something in it of both amusement and....

....okay, kinkland may be in Clark's future.

"I enjoyed that," Lex breathes, and is it possible to run over here every morning and have Lex do this for him? Would Lex mind? Would his parents mind? Would he actually be stupid enough to ask them that question?

"I--yeah." Too dazed to really do anything but keep his eyes closed and hope the entire sex component of the shaving is just something to do with the novelty of it. Somehow, he doesn't think so. "Umm..."

"So, am I missing anything?" Lex's voice is very low, almost a purr, and Clark opens his eyes. Hot blue eyes, lips barely parted like he's thinking of licking his lips, and Lex's hands are still warm and strong on his face. Hard hands, edges of calluses and rough spots, not exactly what you'd expect when you looked at Lex in his silk jackets and designer pants.

"Umm...aftershave?" Not that he needs it, but there's a brief image of Lex's hands smoothing that on his face, and he's going to indulge himself, dammit. Lex's head tilts and he grins, showing even white teeth and a shark's hunger.

Whoa.

"As it happens...." Lex turns, walking across to the opposite cabinet, opening the doors at random, and Clark breathes out. Breathe more evenly, breathe, Clark. It's Lex. It's aftershave. It's--still really damn hot, all of it. Long, slim bare arm reaches inside and pulls something out, looking at it thoughtfully before bringing it back. "How's this?"

It probably cost more than the total of Clark's yearly shoe inventory, but the scent's--yes, it is like Lex, and that is hot, so hot, but verbal abilities are somewhere else entirely. With a mute nod, Clark tilts his head up as Lex takes off the cap and then those hands are on his skin again.

This isn't just teasing. This is art.

Slowly, Lex slides it over his skin, thick and rich, cool compared to the warmth of Lex's hands, the burn of his own skin. Slick when carefully rubbed in, and Clark can't help leaning into it, breathing it in. It's an eternity of nothing but this, and Clark's beginning to wonder if he's ever, ever going to be able to shave himself again without beginning to shake from just the memories of this.

The long fingers rub gently over his cheekbones, down to his jaw, smoothing slow and steady along every inch. Down to his throat, lingering on the pulse-points before sliding off, and Clark lets out a breath that comes out vaguely like a moan. Okay, not vaguely, very much like a moan, which is--okay, fine, Lex knows he's really liking this, and how can he possibly be embarrassed when he's been on his knees on Lex's bed with Lex's tongue in his ass?

The fingers on his throat slide up, carefully, like Lex is tracking something, and across his cheek, threading through his hair. It's damp from all the humidity, strands clinging to his forehead and the back of his neck, where sweat is forming very fast. Warm breath brushes his temple as Lex leans forward, but only their foreheads touch and it's--

--strange, hot, good, wants more, wants everything, and Clark is sure he can't form a coherent sentence if he tries. Which is--not good, because thinking of being on his knees in Lex's bed, after this, kicks it all up a notch and his body is screaming about needs and wants and all the things they could be doing right now if he remembers how to speak in sentences. Or just a verb. That would work, too.

"I want to do something," Lex says softly, and Clark leans into Lex. There's a quality to his voice--not exactly worried, not exactly anything Clark can name, though if there was a meteor gun to his temple, he'd say uncertain. Lex-specific type of uncertain, that is, which is closer to sure than most people are when they are sure, and--

"Yeah," he manages. One word, not too hard. He can do single word answers. Whoo-hoo for him. He's breathing way too fast, his cock is so hard that it's beginning to ache, and Lex is so close Clark can feel the warmth of his body.

"You haven't heard what it is," Lex answers, the amusement rich in his voice. "You--"

"Anything you want." Did that come out as needy as he thinks? Probably, probably, but he's never been able to hide it, and Lex loves it when he talks. Telling him what he wants, how he wants it, on the bed, on the floor, anywhere and everywhere. Things that he'd never say other than then, things that make him blush before, during, and afterward, and Lex loves that, too.

"I want to see you in make up."

And maybe it says something about the power of sexually charged shaving that Clark's ready to go with this just like everything else they've done. Even if--it sounds weird and girly and really strange, but on the other hand, in seventh grade drama class they all had to put on make up and it wasn't that big a deal, all the guys had to do it too.

Clark licks his lips and breathes out.

"Nothing--elaborate. Just a thought I had." And Lex is just full of thoughts tonight, and a big part of Clark wants to know how long this has been coming, introduction into Lex's inner world of either some seriously interesting kinks or just the sheer curiosity of the obscenely rich who really can do anything they want. "If you don't want to, I won't--"

"No. I--sure. I mean, yeah. I can. Do that." Lex's hands tighten on his face briefly before he steps back, and Clark's forehead misses the heat of Lex's skin against it. Almost says no, just to get it back, but--he's curious. "Do you--"

"I have some things that will work." There's a slim thread of something that's swimming beneath Lex's voice that Clark would give serious time, not to mention a few really mind-blowing blowjobs, to figure out, but Lex is back at the cabinet that's going to be forever considered Kinky no matter if the only things in there from here on out are blameless bath towels and a variety of shower gels. Lex rummages for a bit and comes out with a slick lacquer case--not something you have casually laying around either. Invested money. Hmm. Carefully, he sets the case on the counter beside Clark and looks up at him with another little grin.

"Don't worry--I won't take pictures."

Clark smiles and shifts as Lex opens the box. Variety of items within, colors like a blur, faintly earth-toned and some too bright and too loud, screaming Notice This, but Lex sorts through with some seriously interesting skill and retrieves a thin black pencil, carefully removing the lid.

"Close your eyes, Clark." Eyeliner. Not too weird. Closing his eyes, Clark feels Lex's fingers around his eye, carefully pulling the skin taut. The pencil's a blunt thickness against his eyelid, just above the eyelashes, and Clark can't help twitching. "Try to sit still. This is a bitch to get off if I smear it."

Not as easy as it sounds--a vague tickle that makes Clark want to twitch, but Lex presses down and draws with absolute care. Then his other eye, a little faster this time, and he feels Lex step back.

"Open your eyes."

Clark blinks a few times--it doesn't feel different, though he thinks maybe it should, and Lex moves between his legs again. Maybe or maybe not a deliberate brush of their bodies together and Clark hisses, can't help it, fingers itching to be on Lex's skin. Lex smiles again, but there's something different behind it that makes Clark catch his breath.

"Now look up and don't blink. This is the hardest part. Stay as still as you can." The fingers are on his eyes again and okay, he's seen girls do this and it looks hard. But Lex is faster than they are, marking the line easily and Clark only has to fight instinct for a few seconds before he can blink a few times and Lex is at his other eye. Just as quick, and Lex's thumb slides beneath, maybe to correct the line, before he steps back and tilts his head to admire his handiwork.

"You've done this before," Clark says, and Lex's smile widens.

"Yes. I have." Step forward again, hand reaching for his jaw, angling it to the light. "Some skills you don't forget, it seems. Now look at me."

It's hard not to, and Clark meets the blue eyes, feeling Lex's study again. Maybe checking the smoothness of the line, but it's more than that, there's heat and want and something else he can't even name.

"Let's--yes." Lex returns the lid to the pencil and puts it back in the case, rummaging again. Finding something and giving it a critical glance before shaking his head briefly, and Clark rubs a hand into his erection quick and light, trying to ease some of the pressure. "Close your eyes, Clark, and relax your mouth."

Well, that's a good indicator of what's coming next. Think chapstick, Clark decides. Everyone uses it. This is just the color version. No biggie. But--the feel is completely different. Thicker. Smell something closer to waxy, but not unpleasant. Slow, careful brushes, and right, this is Lex, Mr. Expense, so that's probably a brush of some kind. Long strokes moist with the color, long pauses between, and Lex traces the line of his lips, careful attention paid to the indent in the upper, long strokes over the lower. Back to that vaguely rhythmic movements, not so much experience (he needs to ask Lex about that real soon), but--musical. Steady, light beat, and his mouth feels different, heavier and softer and very, very odd in a completely good way. Very different from chapstick, and Lex's hand braces itself on his thigh suddenly and--

--oh God, that's very close to where he really, really wants Lex's hand.

"Beautiful," Lex murmurs with a final stroke, stepping back, and Clark opens his eyes. "Clark."

Lots of heat, lots of other things, but the want is there, so powerful it's wiping everything else out. There's a shiver that runs through Clark's spine like that first shock before orgasm and it takes everything in him not to touch himself, though God, he needs to. Badly.

"One more thing," Lex says, and the little--container? thing?--is put away. This time the search only takes seconds, and it's a little tube that sparkles in the light. "Close your eyes, Clark."

This time, it's cool, like gel, and smells like it to. Rub across his eyelids with a thumb, very carefully above the line Lex already drew, and spread out thin and fine, almost to his eyebrow. Another below his eyes. Some on his cheekbones with slow, deep strokes that make Clark twitch a little and sigh. More along the line of his jaw, and then Lex steps back and Clark opens his eyes as Lex recaps the tube.

"Perfect." No one's ever looked at him like that before. Not ever, and Clark wants to see. A twist on the sink, and he only gets a quick glimpse of a face he doesn't quite recognize before Lex has his shoulder, pulling him back around. "Wait. Just--one more thing."

There's a lot of really questionable possibilities in that, Clark thinks, but he nods. Shaving, make-up, and this trip through Lex's turn-ons, not a bad thing at all, though if a cheerleading uniform makes an appearance, he's just going to blow Lex to get his mind off this entire kink subject for awhile. And he can't help but grin as Lex closes the box and puts it back in the Kink Closet before returning with....

Clark blinks.

"You want me in a collar?"

Lex's smile is wide and just wicked.

"Yes. I do. Do you mind?"

And--no. That's hot. Shaving is hot, but a little embarrassing, make-up is hot but he really won't admit that, but collars--well, collars are really, really hot in a variety of ways that only a good amount of time watching porn really makes you appreciate. Grinning, Clark shakes his head and Lex unfastens the buckle. There's something written on the little metal tag but Clark doesn't get a chance to see before Lex is bending his head down and the leather is sliding smoothly around his throat.

Lex is so close he can feel him, smell the edge of sweat and soap and that scent that's on them both now. Arousal, too, thick and familiar and making Clark's heart race, and Lex's breath warm and steady in his hair. It only takes a second before the buckle slides into place and Lex steps back, and he's--

--staring, eyes wide and very dark and through the pajama bottoms that Clark has very carefully not been looking at, Lex is very, very hard.

Wow. Cool.

"You like?" he asks, slipping down off the counter and leaning back against it. Lex's mouth curves in a smile that's purely predatory, and he nods slowly.

"Yes. Now look at yourself."

And--it's hard to turn, suddenly. Breathing out, Clark lets a variety of bad images run through his head, from drag shows to the really disturbing movies he's seen where the guys look more pathetic than anything, but he's. Well. Here. And he has to see, has to, and so he turns around, feeling Lex walk up behind him and....

Wow.

"Wow," he whispers. Strange face--his but not, not exactly like a girl but a hell of a lot different from any guy Clark's ever met and nothing at all like drama class. His eyes look different, lined and strangely--intense? Darker. Glitter splashes over his face, slick and attention-getting, and his mouth's this dark red that's--

"Yes, I'd say so," Lex breathes against his shoulder, arms sliding around his waist. Little nuzzle before his chin's resting there, watching Clark watch himself. "Beautiful, Clark."

"You think so?" It's exotic, like something in a really good magazine--glossy and not really him. His hair's still damp from all the humidity and clinging, wet and shiny, and it's--yes, exotic. Lex's hands slide to his hips, and then the long, warm body is pressed up against him, and he can feel just how much Lex is turned on by this entire thing and that's--really, really cool.

"Yes." Lex's mouth is against the side of his neck, just below the collar, licking steadily toward the edge. Little frissions of excitement trickle up and down Clark's spine and intensify in his cock, and he wants to--God, do something. Anything. "Brace your hands on the sink, Clark."

It's a slow-dreamy feeling, just obeying without much in the way of thought. Lex bites his throat lightly and licks the collar's edge all around Clark's throat now, brief touches enough to make Clark's cock jerk to the steady rhythm. He thinks he can almost hear whatever music Lex is setting this too--something with a heavy beat, industrial, like the stuff the goth kids listen to when they're cutting class and hanging out behind the gym.

Thick as the room around him, white haze in the air and yet the mirror's perfectly clear, not a trace of glaze at all.

"Watch yourself, Clark."

Lex's hands on his hip tightens briefly, before one slides, slow and easy, slipping into the top of his pajamas. Nails drag patterns onto his skin that he wishes could stay there forever, trailing through light hair and over his sensitized stomach, and then Lex's hand closes over his cock. It's a shock, so good, so perfect, pressure and fit, Lex knows exactly how he likes it even when Clark doesn't know it himself. Simple, easy strokes, and he can feel Lex watching him in the mirror, but it's hard to look away from the stranger staring back at him with his own eyes, mouth parted in a deep red O that's so--God, so different, it can't be him, it can't be--

"Watch how you flush, Clark," Lex murmurs, mouth touching briefly on his shoulder before dragging his teeth the length and tightening his hand on Clark's cock at the same time. Shock of double sensation, almost like overload, and the eyes in the mirror widen. "Biting your lip. That's it--just like that. You're shaking." There's the hard pressure of Lex's cock against Clark's back and God, Clark wants to touch him. Yes. Hands, mouth, however Lex wants it, but he needs it, yes, now. Now.

"Lex, please--" He can't help the whine in his voice, and Lex's body has picked up a slow, liquid rhythm. That music again, whatever it is, rich and heavy, and his heartbeat is picking it up too, with every race of blood.

"Shh, don't talk." Sucking kiss to his neck, hard and fast and like the burn of pain before Lex licks the spot gently. Clark pushes his hips into Lex's hand, wanting this faster, harder, grip more firm, fast and hard strokes, like the razor sliding over his skin. "No. Don't move."

It's almost impossible, but he can just. Manage. And Lex's hand moves, slow and lazy, like he's being carefully sensitized to everything, and he can actually feel every whorl of Lex's fingerprints on the skin of his cock, every fragile jut of cartilage and bone. Utterly unreasonable desire to drop down on his knees and push Lex against something solid, just take him, but it's impossible not to listen to the low, careful cadence of Lex's voice.

"So beautiful, Clark, right here, right now. The way you twist and moan and try to stop from doing it and you can't--those eyes that look like they'll never close again. You're--breathtaking."

And it's frightening, that Lex's voice alone could get him off, though that's happened, God, so many times, Lex whispering in his ear when they fuck, dark and dirty or breathless, needy. Almost violent need to move, just a little, ease the ache, and if he isn't careful, he's going to rip right through this expensive marble in seconds.

There's a slight speed in the rhythm, oh yes, and Lex sucks on the back of his neck for a few dizzying seconds, and his other hand slides across his stomach. Some kind of soothing motion that's just that much more arousing, trailing up to his nipples and stroking with the lightest touch imaginable. The sudden twist is viciously good, and Clark groans, stares at his own face in shock at the look of him there. Desperate and hot and needy and aching, it's scary and it's hot, too.

"That's--yes, my pretty Clark, just like that. Shh." Long lick over the collar and Clark has to move, can't help the jerk of his hips, needing it so badly he can taste it, or maybe it's the fact he just cut into his tongue and the iron-sweet taste is dizzying.

The sounds he's making aren't even possibly human, sheer stream of begging noise that matches the rock of Lex's hips into his ass, the strokes on his cock. Energy is crackling through him, the need to do something, anything, move, touch, taste, bite, all of it, all at once. Everything he can get, everything Lex gives him. Just--

"Please, Lex..." He can't help it, and Lex mouth on his shoulder is so soft. Slick and smooth and gentle and almost sweet, except the rhythm he won't quite speed up enough and Lex is right, he is shaking, his entire body helpless to move, to do anything but respond to whatever Lex gives him. "Lex--"

"I love how you sound when you say my name..." Harder rock, harder jerk of his cock, not enough, but closer. Sweat's forming on his forehead and the entire world is condensed to his cock and the mirror and Lex's voice. "Just a little more..."

And he wants to ask, God, what do you want, but words are just gone, everything's gone, and he's too high to even think of how to form the question.

Vicious squeeze to his nipple like an electric shock down his spine and he can't take it. Has to move into it, rock himself into every stroke and back against Lex's cock. Just--has to, has to do it now, and then it's--

Lex, stepping back one step and he's not being touched anywhere. Like withdrawal, like crashing, and it hurts. Clark sucks in an unsteady breath and the look on his face in the mirror is almost frightening, but mostly pathetic.

"Clark." Soft. Gentle, slow movements, Lex slides between him and the sink and cups his face, looking into his eyes. "Watch yourself when I blow you."

"God..."

There isn't more time for words, more time for anything but sudden, hot sensation, Lex's mouth through his pajamas, rough and almost wet and almost enough, before he pulls them down and just takes him. Single, fluid movement, Lex on his knees and sucking and Clark stares into the mirror and groans, Lex's hands on his hips setting the rhythm, faster and harder, new music, something that says sex is best when it's scary, when it's raw, when it's stripped down to naked lust and nothing, nothing can get through but pure need. He's saying things, he knows he is, and Lex's mouth is moving, taking him fast and sharp, drag of teeth and quick, bright movements of tongue on skin. It's better than anything, and Clark forces his palms flat when he feels the first tremor of orgasm begin to shake him, thighs trembling and biting his lip, tasting lipstick and aftershave and somehow, Lex, too.

"Lex--"

It's--a rush, hitting him hard and fast, so hard he can't even breathe, just yell, and it could be Lex's name and probably is, but--. He can't hear anything, feel anything but the mouth on his cock, see anything but his own face in the mirror, changed into something incredibly foreign and that's what Lex sees when Clark comes for him.

God.

Lex's hands are his only anchor, holding him steady with the shocks rushing his blood and everything dancing in front of his eyes. The best kind of vertigo, and it lasts forever, so much he wonders if he's blacked out, because when he surfaces, still shaking, he's on the floor, face buried in Lex's chest, warm arms tight around him.

There are slow, thoughtful fingers combing through his hair, still wet, Lex's breathing slow and easy like he isn't just as hard, and Clark finds some stash of energy and rubs his face against Lex's chest, trying to find enough air to breathe. Moist, thick air, the hot water's still running in the sink, and Lex is making some softly purring noises like a particularly pleased cat.

"If I ask what brought this on--" Clark begins a little breathlessly, and Lex laughs. No edges, nothing in it but the moment, and that's--so rare for Lex, even when he's with Clark. Valuable, and Clark's learned to love moments just like this, when whatever battle Lex fights in his head goes into truce. "You know, just for reference and all."

"I'm--not entirely sure." When Clark lifts his head, Lex is just looking at him Head tilted to the side, open and honest and amused and aroused all at once, a really dizzying combination. Lex's hands thread through his hair and the kiss is wonderful. Lex, tasting the lipstick carefully, tongue running along his lips and then slipping easily into his mouth. Slow, easy kiss, like Lex isn't very hard beneath the silk of those pants, and it's so slow, so sweet and slow and long, that Clark's only aware of the fact he's on his back on the floor when it registers that there's tile under his back and Lex is straddling him. "Having fun?" Deliberate grind down, and Clark hisses, opening his eyes. Little too soon to get off from it, but spikes of pleasure just the same. Lex braces an elbow on either side of his head, one hand gently tilting Clark's face, fingers studying his skin again. There are traces of dark red on his mouth, softly smeared, vivid as blood on that skin. "Haven't you ever just had a--hmm, sudden craving?"

"Yeah, but like, for junk food or, you know, maybe brownies." He rocks up into Lex, watching the blue eyes flicker. "Not--not--you're not going to ask to see me in a--like a dress or something?"

"I had to special order that, so it'll be a few more days." Completely straight face, and Clark has a second of wondering if his masculinity is going to come out of this in one piece before Lex cracks, grinning down at him and the kiss is hot. Fast, hot, sweet, hard, and Clark curves his hands around Lex's head and kisses back. Slick tastes of lipstick and aftershave and himself, Lex under it all, slow rocking of his body on Clark's, before Lex pulls back. "So what do you want to do now?"

It's really easy to roll Lex, and the tile's warm under his knees, Lex laughing up at him, absently curving his arms behind his head, legs spread and one knee raised like an invitation. Casual sprawl of his body that's never anything less than utterly elegant.

"I'm thinking," Clark answers meditatively, taking Lex's hips and pulling sharply. Easy slide of long thighs over his, hips in his lap, and Lex looks interested. Feels interested too, with a brush of Clark's hand very lightly over his cock. "I know. Tell me where you'd take me when I look like this."

Yes, Lex is interested, definitely.

"You're too young--"

"Whatever. Like it ever stopped you at my age."

"When I was your age, I was working on my seventh arrest for possession. Keep things in perspective."

Clark grins sunnily and leans forward, just enough to draw his tongue from the center of Lex's chest to his stomach.

"When I'm my age, I've saved your life seven times. Keep things in perspective," he mocks softly and sucks a little skin between his teeth, biting down. "Come on, tell me."

Lex laughs on an indrawn breath and pushes his hips up a little.

"Okay. Fine. So--where. Hmm." Another sucked breath. "Um. Missy, I think."

"That a place?" Clark breathes against Lex's skin. He never gets tires of how Lex feels--fine grained, silky, deceptively soft until you caught the lean muscle beneath, shifting with every shift of Lex's body.

"Person. Bitch. But. Throws--mmm--great parties." Clark brushes Lex's nipples with the tips of his fingers and sucks a new mark into Lex's stomach. The lipstick seems to have a lot of staying power--maybe he should tell his mom about this.

Maybe he should think about how he'd explain how he tested that. And why. And--oh no, do not bring parents into sex thoughts. Bad idea any way you look at it, and Clark bites just below Lex's nipple to wipe out the images. Leaning just a little more, Clark braces an elbow on the floor and runs the tip of his tongue over the nipple, feeling Lex twist and jerk up into him.

"Oh Clark--"

"Party at Missy's," Clark answers, grinning a little as a hand settles into his hair, fingers lightly stroking the back of his neck.

"When you're doing that?"

"I can stop...."

"No fucking way. Just--" Lex breathes out as Clark licks again, and it's really cool how Lex seems to tremble for a second before pulling himself under some sort of control. "Okay. Missy. Down--fuck--downtown loft she owns. She--" Clark casually sucks the nipple into his mouth and Lex shudders, full body. Nice. "It's--private. Very--interesting people. You'd have fun. Yes, Clark. Right--"

Clark lets his mouth slide up, licking his way to Lex's collar. Hard protruding bone, smooth skin, very sensitive. Raking his teeth across quick and hard and Lex jerks involuntarily at his hair.

"More," Clark murmurs and gets another pull of his hair. "Come on, Lex. Tell me. What would I be wearing?"

"Fuck." Lex's thighs slide around his hips, heel pressing into the small of his back, Lex's cock rubbing against his stomach. Just enough pressure to tease, and Clark grins before biting down. "You little bastard--"

"I play your fantasies, you play mine. Fair's fair."

"I didn't make you talk--"

"I'm wearing lipstick. Eyeliner. Glitter."

"Perfectly normal--" Lex's breath hisses out and Clark sucks lightly on the curve of Lex's shoulder.

"Smallville, Lex...."

"Point...taken." Lex makes a soft noise and Clark can almost hear him grinding his teeth. "Okay. It's--an eclectic mix. Mostly people with too much money and time on their hands, but--some not. Some not the type of people either of us would normally socialize with, but--yes, Clark, good--Missy is pretty egalitarian in her invitations."

Clark smiles and sucks softly into the side of Lex's neck.

"What am I wearing?" he whispers, and has to hope Lex isn't going to go the dress route, because thank you, this is enough kinks for one day. Both Lex's hands are in his hair, slowly stroking, gripping every time Clark uses his teeth.

"Let--me think."

"You know." Sharp bite just below his jaw and Lex's entire body shivers.

"Leather." Lex lets out a breath in something like a curse when Clark licks gently into his ear. "Just--fuck, Clark--"

Maybe he shouldn't make Lex get too specific. Grinning, Clark moves his mouth over the warm skin, biting lightly when he wants Lex to twitch.

"And the collar."

Little shock to his cock and Clark sucks in a breath, lifting his head. Lex is grinning, slow and hot and promising lots of things that are really really interesting. Clark licks at the corner of Lex's mouth.

"What do people do at parties like that?" he asks, finding that spot just under Lex's ear. Lick, little suck, sharp bite that makes Lex arch into him.

"Dance. Drink. Drugs. Fuck. Not necessarily separately."

Whoa. Clark thinks about it before sucking another line over Lex's throat, reaching down and catching Lex's hip with one hand.

"What would I do there? With you?"

Lex murmurs something he can't hear, before the long fingers slide around his neck, hooking lightly in the collar behind his neck. Pulling it tight briefly before sliding back out and tracing around it with the tip of his finger.

"Dance. Look pretty. Enjoy the people who fall over their feet when they see you. The entertainment value of that alone makes it worth it." Lex's heel is digging into his back hard, trying to get some pressure, something, and Clark slides his hand between their bodies and lightly cups him, kissing to take the sound of Lex's low moan. Hard thrust of tongue, Lex not quite willing to ever be passive even now. Pulling back, Clark grins.

"Think anyone would hit on me?" he asks, bending to suck lightly on Lex's lip, using his free hand to keep Lex in place. Sharp pull of his hair and he grins.

"No."

Well. That sucks. Pulling back, Clark frowns, but Lex's fingers slide under the collar again, drawing it down and fingering something. Sitting up and pulling his hand off Lex's cock, he find's the fingers and--yes, that tag.

"Lex." Lex has an interesting expression on his face--something like smug with an edge of pure pleasure, and it's a really hot look on him, but also--raised indentations beneath his fingers and he gets it--okay. "You--you fucking labeled me?"

"Mmm. Tagging, marking, labeling, that which we call a rose..."

"If you quote Shakespeare at me, I swear I'll leave you like this all night."

Lex's grin widens, but he doesn't answer.

"Okay. I can take that impulse led to the shaving thing and even the make-up thing, and just maybe the collar thing could be sort of on the fly, but this is custom work." You just don't have tags lying around like that, and there are little clicks running all through Clark's head saying things like 'connected' when on the surface, all those things tonight didn't seem connected. Or maybe he really is just a little slow. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"Clark --"

Clark is up before Lex can catch him. "I mean, Jesus, Lex, what am I supposed to be, your property?"

"Yes. No." Lex breathes out but doesn't move, which in some way just makes it worse. Elegant sprawl and lazy body, beautiful and right now, very much not the Lex Clark wants to spend any time with. Especially with those last words. Pulling at the tops of his pajama pants, he surveys the door, and he'll have to step over Lex to get to it.

And he doesn't know if Lex will stop him. Or worse, if he won't. It's a hell of a debate, and it's Lex, which makes it unpredictable and frustrating and right now, he's utterly unreadable.

The silence stretches uncomfortably.

"You don't like it," Lex finally says, very softly, and Clark looks down, catching a trace of something on his face. No clue what, but something.

"It's not--" Okay, clear head first. He's still hard, which probably says some really, really uncomfortable things about his morals or something, Lex is too, and there's been a lot of sex. Clear. Head. Okay. "Lex, I--"

"You can take it off." Like it's nothing, when obviously it's something, though now, Clark's beginning to wonder if he's overreacting. But--no. It's--

"Just tell me why."

Lex looks thoughtful, almost as if he hasn't thought it through before. It's not likely--but possible.

"It's hot. It turns me on. It's something of me on you, on your body." Gracefully, Lex folds his arms under his head, looking Clark up and down.

"I'm not one of your cars."

That makes Lex grin, but just a little, and it doesn't reach his eyes.

"It's not about ownership. Or property."

A part of Clark still wants to go to the door. Another part, less large but probably the loudest, says to just let it go. The third part just wants to take a nap and let it sort itself out sometime after he wakes up, but his upbringing wins, which never lets a fight go too long when it feels wrong, and this--this feels wrong. Not like other arguments and certainly not something they can blow off. Or if they do--it's a weighing sort of thing. How much he thinks he can push against how much he thinks Lex will give.

"Then tell me what it is. Just so I don't feel like I'm--"

"Bought?" Edge in his voice that Clark hasn't heard before, and Lex pushes himself up on one arm. Still utterly relaxed, calm, and that's what makes Clark start paying serious attention. "I don't think you have to worry about that. I count myself lucky if you let me buy you dinner."

Oh. Clark winces, and wonders just a little how long this has been simmering just below the surface of Lex's thoughts. Which--well, could be a long time, or no time at all, and shit, he really wants to sit down. For like, a month. Or two. Relationships weren't supposed to be this complex.

Right. Like his life is ever simple. "Lex... it's just..." He scrubs a hand through his hair, trying to think it through. So okay, he's been sort of adamant on that point, but--. "I've seen what some of the people in your life are like --"

"Oh?" Dangerously calm.

"I just didn't ever want you to see me as someone who wanted you for... anything but yourself."

Lex folds a leg up to his chest, another bad sign. Sort of a physical pulling in, and the space in the bathroom seems a hell of a lot smaller with Lex dragging it in around him like armor. The blue eyes are very clear, very calm, and that is even less good. He prefers the Lex that explodes with sudden, blinding force, not the one that internalizes until everything's dark and hard and very sharp, and every word will be shaped into a weapon.

And Lex is speaking again, same low, even, conversational voice and same utterly unreadable face.

"You can take it off. The collar."

And he could. That would effectively end the argument, what with the leather out of sight, and Lex will change the subject and this entire uncomfortable moment will be completely avoided.

"You--" He almost raises a hand to do it, and it's--really tempting. Really, really tempting, and if this was actually about anything like the collar, he'd probably do it, except it's not, and this just sucks. Fisting both hands, Clark leans back against the sink.

"I'm not letting it go that easily. Give me something here. Just--maybe a idea of the chronology, like how we went from 'Clark doesn't take money for sex' to 'lets put a fucking sticker on him that says, property of Lex Luthor'."

"It doesn't say that." Figures with Lex, too, focus on that. Clark grits his teeth and thinks carefully non-angry thoughts. Getting pissed doesn't lead anywhere useful, just makes things stickier, and he's--he's not sure he wants to be on the end of Lex's cold anger thing. He's seen it in action before. "Clark, you're taking this the wrong way."

"And don't talk to me like my father does."

"And that encourages mature discourse when you bring your father into the room. Which, thank you, does nothing for me." Lex leans back against, staring up at him as if he's--really done something wrong, and he hasn't. "You want a reason? I like it. You don't get off bruising me?"

Clark has to stop for that one.

"That's--different."

"Is it?"

"I..." And something in Lex's face, or in the sense that this could very well be his last chance, makes Clark pause. Think.

The feel of even white teeth in the back of his neck, along his throat like... a collar. The way he sometimes has to beg for it, when in the beginning...

In the beginning, Lex hadn't known Clark didn't bruise.

"It's not about ownership," Lex says, almost dreamily, and Clark jerks his gaze down, but Lex isn't looking at him at all. Light strain of focus on the air about three feet in front of him, like Lex is walking a very thin bridge and laying down every plank first. "I can't touch you. Not like that. Five minutes after I fuck you, there's nothing that would tell me I've touched you at all. Ever."

Oh. Clark leans farther into the sink, the water slicking the marble beneath his hands. It isn't as if--well, he does like it. Likes seeing Lex at the Talon or in the street or quietly working on yet another endless report at his desk, and knowing that there's proof, places on Lex that only he's touched. Even if no one else can see--no,especically because no one else would see. And-if anyone did see, they'd know--

--well, know that Lex had someone touching him and they weren't supposed to. Or--something really primitive and really, really immature like that, but there's a reason the girls at school wear their boyfriends' jackets and married people wear rings. It's--symbolic, sort of.

"You don't accept gifts. I have to hide what I do with you. So. I compromise. I want you to wear that. It's hot, it turns me on, and it's proof. Simple." And Lex looks up at him. Cool, expressionless, and it--it hurts.

And it's the closest Clark has gotten to an emotional declaration from Lex outside sex. Probably better, definitely better, more honest, and--even if it's circular, and this is Lex, after all, direct isn't his style--it's there.

"Do you--" Clark's mouth goes dry and he has to stop and swallow hard--this is, oh so awkward and couldn't these sorts of things ever be easy? And of course not, because it wouldn't be Lex then, and Clark doesn't even want to think about the possibility of it not being him. "Do you want me to wear it all the time?"

Flicker of something--fast and sharp and it's good.

"Yes."

He can't help tracing it again, just lightly. Smooth edges, slick under his skin, not too tight, and he has to wonder how to hide it under a t-shirt. Maybe if he pushes it down a little--hmm.

"Clark?"

Clark looks down and Lex is still watching him. Oh. Right.

"I--" he stops, breathing out, and okay, have to think. Lex. And. Vulnerable. Never, ever a good combination at any time, ever. "It's comfortable."

"I had it fitted."

There's a conversation Clark would pay to listen to. Or maybe not, but still. He gets the visual and has to grin a little, and his fingers hit the tag. "I--what's written on this?"

"Read it."

"I'd have to take it off first."

Small smile. "I'll give you a minute or two."

Clark rolls his eyes and unhooks the leather, surprised at how... unsupported his head feels without it. The feeling fades fast, but. Strange. Takes a breath and looks at the tag. Simple print, no frills or curlicues: "Yours." Swallows. "I thought you said this wasn't about possession, Lex."

Lex is smiling into the distance. "I didn't say who it referred to, now did I?"

It's a lot easier than Clark thought it would be to take the few steps between them, pushing Lex's knee down and straddling his lap. Staring into the blue eyes and he looks for--something. And it's Lex, so he's careful, waiting until the body against his relaxes, until Lex's hands brush his knees before settling on his thighs.

Still unreadable, but touching, which Clark's figured out from experience is the biggest step in the right direction. Casual, not sexual, just little movements of his fingers, because even now, it's hard for Lex to sit still. Too much energy beneath the surface, untapped and needing an outlet.

"You know-" Clark stops, taking a breath. "I guess I should be relieved you didn't go hunting up meteor fragments to see if that would help."

The blue eyes narrow thoughtfully. "Don't think I didn't consider it."

Clark can't help grinning and reaches down, taking Lex's hand and dropping the collar in, leaning his head forward against Lex's shoulder.

"Okay. Just keep in mind that if my parents see this, I'm going to be grounded until I'm about thirty. And don't make dog jokes around me anywhere there are people. Or, you know, ever."

There's the barest trace of a smile, then Lex's fingers circle his throat, slow and easy. A little breath when Lex tightened it again, the soft sounds of the buckle, and Lex resettles it just over his collarbone, sliding a finger in between Clark's skin and the leather to check the fit.

"Still make you hot, Lex?" And really, he can't help shifting just a little, enough to draw a soft hiss and the fingers on the back of his throat tightened, sliding into his hair. Hard kiss, like Lex is searching for something, exploring his mouth with long, hard licks and then sucking on his bottom lip. Pulling back, Clark grins, feeling a little lightheaded. "You know this won't stop people from hitting on me."

Lex's smile is slow and very, very sincere.

"That's why I'll be armed."

Clark tilts his head back as Lex leans forward, biting into his jaw lightly. Hard enough to ache before Lex licks the spot, moving over his skin with electric flickers of his tongue and God, it's hot in here. Sweat's building again on the back of Clark's neck and the pajama bottoms are just holding in too much heat.

"Just wear it for me," Lex murmurs against his ear. "Just here. No where else. Just for me."

Clark shivers, and Lex's hand is running slowly up his back, nails drawing designs he could almost read. Sucking bite just below his ear, and then Lex licks his shoulder, hot and moist and so good. So, so good. The smooth skin of Lex's back is under his hands as he shifts forward, lining up their hips and drawing out a growl from Lex, another hard bite.

But--he has to say it. Has to. Getting his hands up, on Lex's face, pulling back just enough to meet hot eyes and close enough so they almost touch.

"Lex." Breathes it, wonders if this is a good idea, but. Hey. "I love you, too."

The End