Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/278389.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Smallville
  Relationship:
      Clark_Kent/Lex_Luthor
  Additional Tags:
      Roleplay, Underage_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2006-01-06 Words: 781
****** Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs ******
by toomuchplor
Summary
     It's morning, and Clark is eating cereal.
Clark walked into the room with a bowl of cereal in one hand and a spoon in the
other, munching on something almost certainly containing toxic amounts of
starch and sugar. Glancing up, he cast Lex a wicked smile and strode towards
where Lex was sitting on the couch.
“You’re just getting up?” Lex asked censoriously, trying to look unhurried as
he folded up the morning paper, because he knew what was coming next.
Clark’s grin resurfaced as he descended, one knee on either side of Lex’s hips,
the bowl perched on the back of the couch, the milky spoon brushing Lex’s cheek
as Clark got comfortable. “You’ve been up for hours,” Clark drawled in his best
Lex voice (which sounded nothing like Lex), “and you’ve already had time to
take out several unstable small corporations while I was just lying in bed.” A
flash of playful tongue, and Lex was fighting against a compulsion to smile
back. “All by myself, all alone in bed,” Clark appended meaningfully.
“You’re too heavy to do this,” Lex protested, but he didn’t push at Clark’s
shoulders, only settled his palms there, measuring breadth, solidity. “You’ll
break the furniture.”
Clark shifted his ass on Lex’s thighs and spooned another mouthful of cereal
into his mouth. “Can’t break it with this if what we did last week didn’t break
it,” he pointed out, words angled around crunching sounds.
“Let me ask you this,” Lex answered, watching Clark lick his lips. “If you were
building a bridge, would you assume it was safe just because one mack truck
drove over it without the bridge collapsing?”
He had expected a smart answer, maybe a sneer, but instead Clark’s eyes went
soft and heavy-lashed and he dove in to deposit a sugary kiss. When Lex blinked
askance, Clark tilted his head and said, “Bridges. You're such a romantic."
Lex slipped one hand down the back of Clark's boxers and squeezed the round of
one buttock. Clark, used to this attention, simply munched on a second mouthful
of cereal, idly squirming under Lex's touch. Challenged by this, Lex bowed his
head and took one nipple between his teeth.
Clark sighed contentedly as he swallowed. "You're playing Humbert Humbert," he
said fondly, with the lift of one eyebrow, "you pervert."
Lex arched his own brow in response and tugged Clark's boxers down over his
ass. Clark knew him very well, maybe dangerously well. But there was nothing
wrong with that fact at the moment, not when it meant that Clark could slip
into character so quickly, with no request needed on Lex's side.
Lex circled Clark's hole with one finger, watching Clark's face, marvelling at
how impassive it could stay, how cool and innocent he could appear with that
spoon balanced between perfect young lips. Sometimes Lex liked his Clark Kent
farm-fresh, blushing and eager and clumsy, and sometimes -- sometimes he liked
his world-weary Lolita.
Who exhaled quietly as Lex stretched him, shifting his firm ass absently, not
deigning to make eye contact as he continued to eat his breakfast. Who kicked
off his underwear only when Lex urged him to do so, settling back down on Lex's
lap with no regard for Lex's own comfort. Who, in spite of all pretenses,
couldn't help but cry out a little when Lex pushed down on his shoulders,
driving up into him with only the hasty application of saliva as their
lubricant.
Lex loved this variation on their theme, loved Clark's chameleon nature and
loved especially that when Lex finally came, Clark shed his disguise in an
eyeblink, letting the cereal bowl crash to the floor behind the couch and
attacking Lex full-force with open mouth and demanding tongue, saying insane
lustful things about beauty and filth and how it all got mixed together between
them.
Lex wound up on his back on the area rug, calves crooked over Clark's straining
shoulders, holding on desperately while Clark slammed into him, adult and
dominant and alien overlord and a hundred other things that lurked under his
perfect ever-youthful golden skin.
Too soon, but Lex was hard again, and Clark wasn't about to let that go
unnoticed. His hand was a perfect vise around Lex's cock, and Lex might just
let Clark sleep in every Sunday morning if this was the result. Closer and
closer to oblivion, until with a sharp cry, Clark moved deep and came. Lex
followed him helplessly, pulled over the edge with Clark as though they were
tied together on a level beyond the physical.
Which was, actually, what had brought them here in the first place.
"Bridges," Lex mumbled into Clark's sweat-damp curls.
"Such a romantic," Clark whispered in response.
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