Because I can't write porn to save my life
Smallville fic, a WiP. Lex, Clark, tacos, and a road trip to nowhere.
Further On
The sky is overcast and the clouds are thick and gradually thinning closer to the sun. It’s 5:25 in late afternoon but it looks like the last edges of dusk are settling in, even though it is still too early.
Lex’s silver Porsche is parked at the Star-Mart gas station that connects to Taco-Hut, and birds can be heard singing every once in a while along with the chirp of beetles hidden in thick bushes surrounding the small establishment. A slight breeze ruffles and pulls at Lex’s crisp, slate-gray shirt with balmy fingers, leaving him completely unwrinkled and immaculate after it has passed.
He leans against the Porsche, appearing as if an exotic model for a car advertisement, and Clark walks out of Taco-Hut with two bags under his arms and a grin on his face. Even Lex’s cars and Lex’s clothes are color coordinated.
“Hey. Got us some grub.” Clark says and walks around the tail of the car and up to Lex who is relaxed and serene, the pink and violet of the sky shading in the hollows of his cheeks and the pale lavender crescents underneath his eyes. His skin is complimented by a combination of everything, pale and creamy where the fatigue hasn’t touched. Lex looks comfortable for the first time in a long while, and when Clark leans in to give him a kiss on the cheek, Lex looks at him with blue eyes that are shadow-free and here. Here because his mind is here, focused on this moment and not the next advantageous step to his company’s ultimate monopoly.
It took a lot for Clark to drag him away from LexCorp and its burgeoning success.
“Grub?” Lex asks and there’s a teasing quality to his voice. Clark decides he likes it. “Who uses that word anymore?”
“Food is boring,” Clark says, opening the car door and placing the bags on the backseat. “Grub is something you can get our hands into.”
“I think you mean sink your teeth into.” Lex corrected, smiling, before pulling on his gloves and sliding inside the car. Clark gets in on the other side and snatches his soda out of its cup holder, taking a massive drink. Lex discovers an odd fixation with Clark’s throat as he swallows and will make a point to spend quality time kissing it later.
“So where are we going, exactly?” The engine purrs beautifully under Lex’s skilled touch. He runs an appreciative hand over the dashboard, additionally checking for a film of dust that would dare settle in his car.
“Where do you want to go?” Lex asks.
Clark really has no clue. It was his idea to get Lex out of the office, but he hadn’t actually planned any further than that.
“Why don’t you surprise me?” Clark finally decides. A crooked smile, again the first one in a long while, shapes Lex’s mouth. He palms Clark’s thigh and rubs gently, the heat of his touch felt even through the butter-soft, worn gloves.
Clark breathes in through his mouth, trying for steady but instead getting shallow and a quickening pulse. Lex peels out of the gas station with the first roll of thunder.
“I’ve decided that you’re good for my health and well-being.” Lex says when they’ve pulled onto the highway. 75 miles per hour is normal enough for Clark to unclench his hands and think clearly without fretting over the possible occurrence of instantaneous death. At least on Lex’s part.
Clark laughs. “Well, that’s a relief.” He reaches behind and his hand disappears momentarily before reappearing holding a Taco-Hut bag. The wafting aroma of Mexican cuisine fills the car.
Lex’s nose scrunches up.
Clark pulls out a bean and cheese taco, watching for Lex’s reaction.
“You hungry?”
Lex makes a negative sound.
“Are you sure?” Clark asks and offers the taco to him, holding it close to Lex’s face.
Lex shoots the food a repugnant look. Clearly, his aversion to eating in the car only increases with the addition of fast food. Clark chuckles at the expression on Lex’s face and promises he won’t leave messy, grease-tipped fingerprints over the interior leather seats or spotless dashboard.
***
Somewhere past Route 49, a lone pair of headlights sparkles on the dark road. Clark lost the map hours ago at their latest rest stop, but he didn’t seem the least bit sorry when he sheepishly apologized to Lex for misplacing it. Lex isn’t finding this stuck-in-the-middle-of-nowhere business all that amusing or fun, but at least Clark seems to be fine with it. In fact, if he didn’t know him better, Lex might even think this was Clark’s plan all along. To get them marooned on a rural highway, traveling in circles, then possibly driving until they hit the ocean.
Smiling fondly, Lex imagines it as Clark’s skewed perception of romance.
Then again, his idea of romance is a nice, slow fuck with a sweet wine afterwards, then sleep, and waking up to his company’s name making headlines in the morning paper.
He doesn’t doubt that LexCorp is capable of springing free from LuthorCorp’s shadow, but until it does, his company will never be mentioned without a nod attributing at least a margin of its success to LuthorCorp. He can bury his father underneath his own success, but victory takes time, and Lex will not want to dig a shallow grave for Lionel and LuthorCorp. No, he wants it ten feet under with no tombstone, because that’s how good he’ll be.
“You’re thinking about work again, aren’t you?” Clark’s voice interrupts Lex’s train of thought.
Shifting his gaze to Clark, he flexes his hand on the steering wheel and heaves a sigh. His eyelids look heavy and the skin around his eyes is slightly puffy. This is Lex exhausted again.
“I’m sorry, Clark,” Lex’s eyes back on the road, his voice deeper and a bit irritable, “but you have to understand, you pulled me away from my work at a crucial time.”
Clark laughed and slumped further in his seat, at least as far as he could with his tall frame in a bucket seat. “Not true. You wouldn’t have come otherwise.”
Smiling, Lex is willing to give him that. “But I didn’t intend to get lost.”
Clark clicks on the radio hoping for a distraction. “It’s not that bad. I mean, we can turn this into a good thing,” he proposes innocently.
A glance at the dashboard informs Lex that it’s 2:30 a.m. and he should’ve stopped hours ago at a motel to shut his eyes. Driving, with pit stops or no, should not put you to sleep. Lex remembers a time when he actually liked driving in the Porsche.
“How would we do that?” Tiredness in his voice, but it still manages to carry a tease that makes Clark’s heart beat fervently.
“Well, um.” Clark pretends to think, a response already on the tip of his tongue. He knows Lex won’t pull over until Clark suggests it, and he’s going to make Lex work for this one. “We could take turns driving.”
Lex grins then, sharp and bright despite the weariness. “You want to drive this baby, huh?”
Clark lowers his lashes and sneaks quick glances, trying his best to play the innocent when he knows all it’s doing is making Lex want the motel room more. “Yeah, I do. But who wouldn’t?”
Lex shakes his head, laughing softly. “Maybe when it’s daylight, but not now.”
Daylight will be a long and dreadful wait if Lex doesn’t get to a bed soon. The good thing is that Clark doesn’t seem tired in the least. Probably all that caffeine he consumed earlier – maybe Lex should’ve brought along some coffee or something. Not to mention all he ate was something called a Double Decker Fiesta Supreme, condiments aside.
Clark shrugs and fiddles with the radio dial. There never seems to be anything good playing at two o’clock in the morning. After no success, he turns it off and blurts out, “Let’s find a motel.”
Lex exhales loudly in relief and glances upwards, mentally thanking whoever is so kind to have mercy on him. And his libido.
tbc....
I hate my muses sometimes. They don't know the meaning of the word "fuck."
ETA: omg, when writing next part, I just used Joss-verse. 'Peckish' was the word, and I do believe that's Joss. Wasn't Spike fond of saying that? Freak-ay. Even though, y'know, it's not actually a word.
Further On
The sky is overcast and the clouds are thick and gradually thinning closer to the sun. It’s 5:25 in late afternoon but it looks like the last edges of dusk are settling in, even though it is still too early.
Lex’s silver Porsche is parked at the Star-Mart gas station that connects to Taco-Hut, and birds can be heard singing every once in a while along with the chirp of beetles hidden in thick bushes surrounding the small establishment. A slight breeze ruffles and pulls at Lex’s crisp, slate-gray shirt with balmy fingers, leaving him completely unwrinkled and immaculate after it has passed.
He leans against the Porsche, appearing as if an exotic model for a car advertisement, and Clark walks out of Taco-Hut with two bags under his arms and a grin on his face. Even Lex’s cars and Lex’s clothes are color coordinated.
“Hey. Got us some grub.” Clark says and walks around the tail of the car and up to Lex who is relaxed and serene, the pink and violet of the sky shading in the hollows of his cheeks and the pale lavender crescents underneath his eyes. His skin is complimented by a combination of everything, pale and creamy where the fatigue hasn’t touched. Lex looks comfortable for the first time in a long while, and when Clark leans in to give him a kiss on the cheek, Lex looks at him with blue eyes that are shadow-free and here. Here because his mind is here, focused on this moment and not the next advantageous step to his company’s ultimate monopoly.
It took a lot for Clark to drag him away from LexCorp and its burgeoning success.
“Grub?” Lex asks and there’s a teasing quality to his voice. Clark decides he likes it. “Who uses that word anymore?”
“Food is boring,” Clark says, opening the car door and placing the bags on the backseat. “Grub is something you can get our hands into.”
“I think you mean sink your teeth into.” Lex corrected, smiling, before pulling on his gloves and sliding inside the car. Clark gets in on the other side and snatches his soda out of its cup holder, taking a massive drink. Lex discovers an odd fixation with Clark’s throat as he swallows and will make a point to spend quality time kissing it later.
“So where are we going, exactly?” The engine purrs beautifully under Lex’s skilled touch. He runs an appreciative hand over the dashboard, additionally checking for a film of dust that would dare settle in his car.
“Where do you want to go?” Lex asks.
Clark really has no clue. It was his idea to get Lex out of the office, but he hadn’t actually planned any further than that.
“Why don’t you surprise me?” Clark finally decides. A crooked smile, again the first one in a long while, shapes Lex’s mouth. He palms Clark’s thigh and rubs gently, the heat of his touch felt even through the butter-soft, worn gloves.
Clark breathes in through his mouth, trying for steady but instead getting shallow and a quickening pulse. Lex peels out of the gas station with the first roll of thunder.
“I’ve decided that you’re good for my health and well-being.” Lex says when they’ve pulled onto the highway. 75 miles per hour is normal enough for Clark to unclench his hands and think clearly without fretting over the possible occurrence of instantaneous death. At least on Lex’s part.
Clark laughs. “Well, that’s a relief.” He reaches behind and his hand disappears momentarily before reappearing holding a Taco-Hut bag. The wafting aroma of Mexican cuisine fills the car.
Lex’s nose scrunches up.
Clark pulls out a bean and cheese taco, watching for Lex’s reaction.
“You hungry?”
Lex makes a negative sound.
“Are you sure?” Clark asks and offers the taco to him, holding it close to Lex’s face.
Lex shoots the food a repugnant look. Clearly, his aversion to eating in the car only increases with the addition of fast food. Clark chuckles at the expression on Lex’s face and promises he won’t leave messy, grease-tipped fingerprints over the interior leather seats or spotless dashboard.
Somewhere past Route 49, a lone pair of headlights sparkles on the dark road. Clark lost the map hours ago at their latest rest stop, but he didn’t seem the least bit sorry when he sheepishly apologized to Lex for misplacing it. Lex isn’t finding this stuck-in-the-middle-of-nowhere business all that amusing or fun, but at least Clark seems to be fine with it. In fact, if he didn’t know him better, Lex might even think this was Clark’s plan all along. To get them marooned on a rural highway, traveling in circles, then possibly driving until they hit the ocean.
Smiling fondly, Lex imagines it as Clark’s skewed perception of romance.
Then again, his idea of romance is a nice, slow fuck with a sweet wine afterwards, then sleep, and waking up to his company’s name making headlines in the morning paper.
He doesn’t doubt that LexCorp is capable of springing free from LuthorCorp’s shadow, but until it does, his company will never be mentioned without a nod attributing at least a margin of its success to LuthorCorp. He can bury his father underneath his own success, but victory takes time, and Lex will not want to dig a shallow grave for Lionel and LuthorCorp. No, he wants it ten feet under with no tombstone, because that’s how good he’ll be.
“You’re thinking about work again, aren’t you?” Clark’s voice interrupts Lex’s train of thought.
Shifting his gaze to Clark, he flexes his hand on the steering wheel and heaves a sigh. His eyelids look heavy and the skin around his eyes is slightly puffy. This is Lex exhausted again.
“I’m sorry, Clark,” Lex’s eyes back on the road, his voice deeper and a bit irritable, “but you have to understand, you pulled me away from my work at a crucial time.”
Clark laughed and slumped further in his seat, at least as far as he could with his tall frame in a bucket seat. “Not true. You wouldn’t have come otherwise.”
Smiling, Lex is willing to give him that. “But I didn’t intend to get lost.”
Clark clicks on the radio hoping for a distraction. “It’s not that bad. I mean, we can turn this into a good thing,” he proposes innocently.
A glance at the dashboard informs Lex that it’s 2:30 a.m. and he should’ve stopped hours ago at a motel to shut his eyes. Driving, with pit stops or no, should not put you to sleep. Lex remembers a time when he actually liked driving in the Porsche.
“How would we do that?” Tiredness in his voice, but it still manages to carry a tease that makes Clark’s heart beat fervently.
“Well, um.” Clark pretends to think, a response already on the tip of his tongue. He knows Lex won’t pull over until Clark suggests it, and he’s going to make Lex work for this one. “We could take turns driving.”
Lex grins then, sharp and bright despite the weariness. “You want to drive this baby, huh?”
Clark lowers his lashes and sneaks quick glances, trying his best to play the innocent when he knows all it’s doing is making Lex want the motel room more. “Yeah, I do. But who wouldn’t?”
Lex shakes his head, laughing softly. “Maybe when it’s daylight, but not now.”
Daylight will be a long and dreadful wait if Lex doesn’t get to a bed soon. The good thing is that Clark doesn’t seem tired in the least. Probably all that caffeine he consumed earlier – maybe Lex should’ve brought along some coffee or something. Not to mention all he ate was something called a Double Decker Fiesta Supreme, condiments aside.
Clark shrugs and fiddles with the radio dial. There never seems to be anything good playing at two o’clock in the morning. After no success, he turns it off and blurts out, “Let’s find a motel.”
Lex exhales loudly in relief and glances upwards, mentally thanking whoever is so kind to have mercy on him. And his libido.
tbc....
I hate my muses sometimes. They don't know the meaning of the word "fuck."
ETA: omg, when writing next part, I just used Joss-verse. 'Peckish' was the word, and I do believe that's Joss. Wasn't Spike fond of saying that? Freak-ay. Even though, y'know, it's not actually a word.