Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/860645.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Smallville, Man_of_Steel_(2013), Superman_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Clark_Kent/Original_Male_Character
  Character:
      Clark_Kent, Martha_Kent, Jonathan_Kent, Original_Male_Character(s)
  Additional Tags:
      Established_Relationship, Secret_Relationship, Plot_What_Plot/Porn
      Without_Plot, I'm_Bad_At_Titles, which_turns_out_not_to_be_so_"secret"
      after_all, Don't_Have_to_Know_Canon, Nonsense, Original_Character(s)
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-06-28 Words: 3860
****** Relax (don't do it) ******
by Leafling
Summary
     Screwing in your parents' kitchen... how classy.
"Let's have sex." Colin says. It's not a request, but it's not a demand either;
it sits somewhere in-between, like a passive-aggressive relative giving
backhanded compliments at Thanksgiving.
The suggestion is sudden, to say the least, making Clark lift his gaze from the
book he's reading. He finds the other teen standing at the window, writing
absentmindedly in the condensation forming on the glass, looking far too
innocent for his own good.
Clark lowers the book to his lap and stares at the side of Colin's face as the
other teen stares out the window intently, watching Martha out in the yard
hanging clothes out on the line to dry. For the moment, quiet hangs over them
like a storm cloud.
"My mom's home," Clark says matter-of-factly, breaking the silence.
Colin looks over his shoulder at Clark, and he'll be damned if he's not
smirking because Clark didn't say no yet. "We'll lock the door."
Clark rolls his eyes. Folding his arms, he gives Colin a pointed look. "She'll
hear you."
Colin notices the use of you instead of us.He doesn't comment because he knows
he's louder than Clark; that he's proud of being a screamer, actually. Gently
drawing the curtain closed, Colin turns to Clark with a coy smile. "So I'll be
quiet?"
"My bed's noisy," Clark supplies, shifting across the mattress to demonstrate
his point. The wooden bedstead groans and the springs creak. Colin cringes at
the sound. No matter how hot it'd be if Clark were to fuck him hard on the bed,
(the screeching and squeaking of the bed coupled with Colin's own cries of
pleasure)Colin agrees that it wouldn't be an option.
But, because Colin really, really wants sex, he doesn't leave well enough
alone. Which is why he suggests they have sex in his car.
Clark rubs his eyes as though fatigued, but really he's stifling his chuckles.
"Are you kidding?"
"Should I be?" Colin says sheepishly, shrugging.
"You're parked, like, two blocks away," Clark reminds, "it'll look suspicious
if we were to just leave."
Colin's shoulders sag like he's about to admit defeat, "why're you shutting
down all my ideas?"
―"because they're bad?"
"Look, if you don't want to do anything, you only have to say so." Colin says,
pouting childishly.
Clark doesn't know whether it would be nice to laugh or not because Colin's
frustration is more comical than anything.
"Who says I don't?" Clark counters, mostly expecting Colin to virtually
leapinto his lap as he did. Any of Clark's protests are drowned out by the
creaking of the bed; his resolve is almost completely taken apart by the way
Colin frenziedly grabs the back of his neck, pulling him into a deep, desperate
kiss.
It's hot, kissing like this. The room jumps a few degrees as they makeout for
who knows how long. Colin's sinking his nails into whatever part of Clark he
can reach, rubbing against Clark until he gets the message and starts rutting
back with just enough force. Okay, now this is hotter than just making out
alone.
Clark's brows knit together as he pushes up into Colin's body, holding him
tightly by the waist to keep the teen from squirming too much.
Aside from the quiet groan of the bedsprings and the increasingly labored
sounds of Colin's breathing, the room was virtually quiet—the whole house is
quiet, which is how both of the teens were able to hear Martha's noisy
entrance.
The sound of the door banging against the wall is loud, to say the least,
making Colin startle. "Shit," He gasps when they pull away. Not knowing what to
do, Colin just sits there grasping urgently at Clark’s t-shirt, stretching the
neckline unattractively. Biting his lip, Colin watches Clark glance around the
room, the other teen listening to the sounds of Martha shedding her coat and
boats at the door. It's quiet again, but Colin resists the urge to reinitiate
the kiss because Clark's got this look on his face like he's concentrating.
"What?" Colin whispers, squirming as Clark’s strong hands gripped his waist a
little harder than necessary. The other teen didn’t know his own strength at
times; often leaving light almost-bruises and the faintest suggestions of
fingerprints on Colin’s skin whenever he wasn’t careful... not that either of
them minded, really.
Straining his ears, Colin faintly picked up on Martha's humming and the weird
sounds her house-shoes made as she walks across the living room floor. Tension
drains from his posture as he hears the kitchen door swing open with a
resounding squeak. Colin remembers that it's approaching dinnertime, that
Martha will probably be more concerned with cooking than what they're doing.
Sure that they would be left alone, Colin rolls his eyes, shifting in Clark's
lap until he can reach the other teen's belt. "Now... where were we?" He asks.
Clark fixes Colin with a wide-eyed look at hearing his voice; almost as if he’s
just realized that the teen’s been sitting in his lap the entire time. Clark
catches Colin's wrists before the other teen can pull Clark's belt free from
the loops. He gives Colin with a stern look.
"What?" Colin whines, deflating under Clark's gaze as he tries, and fails, to
rescue his hands from Clark's vice-like grip. "Oh, come on, you still think
she's gonna walk in on us?" When the other's mouth sets in a firm line, Colin
scoffs, "it's not like she's gotta Spidey-senses, Clark..."
Sighing when Clark doesn't relent, Colin presses a quick peck on Clark's mouth,
"pretty please?"
Clark looks torn, like he's about to give in. Then they hear the kitchen door
swing open again, followed by Mrs. Kent decidedly loud telephone conversation.
All chance of getting laid goes out the window.
"No," Clark says, rolling Colin off his lap with one swift movement. Depositing
the slighter teen on the mattress, Clark springs to his feet and moves to the
bedroom door, putting as much space between them as possible. "I’m not doing
this while she’s in the house." He declares resolutely.
Colin sits up on his elbow, mouth falling open to protest. "But—"
"Colin," Clark’s resolve is unrelenting this time.
The smaller teen concedes. Rolling onto his stomach, he burrows his face in
Clark’s pillows to stifle any unhappy sounds. They listen to Martha trade
gossip with neighbors; the noisy clatter of pots and pans, the clink of cutlery
and tableware as she washes dishes.
After what feels like a half hour passes without anything happening, Colin sits
up and glares at Clark. "You hear that? That's the sound of her not caring.
Think of all the things we could've done in the time she's been on the phone!"
Clark sits down in his desk chair. Clicking on the lamplight, he turns his
attention to his homework. It isn't due until next week but it's not like he
has anything to do. "I already told you, Colin, we're not doing anything."
"Okay, fine, whatever..." Colin grumbles, resting his head in the cradle of his
arms.
He doesn't know when he dozed off, but Colin's eyes flutter open all the same
when Clark shakes him awake. His vision is blurry around the edges as the room
around him comes back into focus. Colin wipes the crust from his eyes, sitting
up slowly as if his bones weigh a ton. Clark, on his way to the door, tells him
that it's time for dinner and that Martha wants him to wash his hands and face.
Yawning, Colin does as he's told and later joins everyone at the dinner table.
Jonathan is just in from work when Colin gets downstairs. He looks exhausted as
he shrugs out of his outerwear, but he greets Colin like he's a part of the
family; mussing up the teen's already messy hair as he walks by. Kissing Martha
on the cheek, he asks how everyone's day was.
Colin feels as though he could fling himself from a window because Clark's
parents are the epitome of domestic and coming from one of the most unstable
households he can think of, Colin isn't thrilled to see them kiss and hug like
normal husbands and wives. But that's neither here nor there.Agonizing over the
way Mr. and Mrs. Kent get along is hardly a priority as Colin seats himself at
the table.
Colin's chair is pushed too close to Clark's because the table is only for
three chairs, not four; maneuvering into it without brushing inappropriately
close to Clark is practically impossible.
Colin's nap had helped to take the edge off his arousal—however, unfortunately,
he's still a teenager after all; it doesn't take much more than the ghost of
Clark's fingertips against his lower back to get Colin's pulse hammering anew.
He's rock hard in a fraction of a second; desire reignited by a barely-there
touch.
Colin's face flushes a deep shade of red. He quickly raises a hand to his face,
trying to hide his blush as he crosses his legs under the table to avoid having
his thigh pressed up against Clark's.
His erection doesn't very much like the newfound position of his legs, it
throbs in protest. Colin tries not to squirm because he knows he already looks
suspicious.
Martha fixes Colin with a worried look. She asks if he's feeling okay because,
"Colin, Dear, you look flush."
Jonathan is helping himself to bread rolls and whatever else Martha has
prepared. He's completely unaware of anything other than what he's saying as he
goes on about his rather uneventful day working. Clark's nodding and humming in
agreement whenever the time calls, used to the way his father droned on; never
asking for input or opinions, only to be heard. Colin is thankful for their
obliviousness.
Shaking his head, Colin assures Martha, "I'm fine, thanks." And then he makes a
mental note to avoid eye contact with Mrs. Kent for the rest of his life.
Feeling his stomach do flips, Colin picks at the roast beef on his plate with
his fork. Increasingly aware of Martha's eyes on him, Colin lets his hand drop
into his lap and tries to look like he's not about to crawl out of his skin.
"Are you hungry?" Martha asks because she worries like a hen and is as
persistent as a hawk.
Colin tries to think about food and how he hasn't eaten since school let out,
but he finds that his appetite is nearly non-existent. His pulse is pounding in
his ears now; all the blood in his head rushing south. Suddenly he can smell
Clark's cologne; it's making it hard to focus on anything other than how much
he wants the other teen right now.
Swallowing heavily, Colin musters a smile. He doesn't know what to say, one
wrong word and Martha will be spending the entire evening coddling him. Or
worse—Mrs. Kent will call his aunt, tell her that he's come down with some kind
of stomach virus, and next thing he'll knows, he'll be riding in the passenger
seat of Jonathan’s pickup back to his house. All the while, Colin's so horny,
he's on the verge of a heart attack.
Colin's lucky that Jonathan isn't listening to his and Martha's conversation
because without the older man's interruption, Colin would be left floundering
for words like an idiot.
As Mr. and Mrs. Kent fall into their regular conversation, Colin sinks back in
his chair and nibbles idly at whatever turns up on the end of his fork.
Clark's thigh bumps into his own, out of nowhere, making Colin startle so bad
that he almost stands and upended the table; the dishes rattle on the table as
his knees hit the underside of it.
The looks he receives from Mr. and Mrs. Kent makes Colin apologize profusely.
The not-quite glare that Clark shoots him makes Colin's blood run cold.
"Sorry," Colin repeats curtly, feeling like everyone's out to get him.
Somehow he's able to make it through the rest of dinner (and dessert) without
causing any more trouble. Colin breathes a sigh of relief when Martha asks
Clark to do the dishes so she can get ready for bed. Jonathan disappears to the
living room to watch the game, meanwhile, not wanting any part of cleaning.
Turning on the faucet, Clark deposits dishes into the sink and sighs. Looking
over his shoulder at Colin clearing off the table, he can see just how hot and
bothered the other teen is.
And Clark feels bad for rebuffing him despite his own misgivings. Clark tries
to keep a straight face listening to Colin grumbling pitifully to himself, the
other teen's hands trembling as he collects dishes from the table, body
language screaming his discomfort, his need for some kind of relief. An idea
flits into his head and before Clark can stamp it out, he's already formulating
ways to bring his plan to fruition.
A quick glance around the house with his x-ray vision and Clark can see that
his parents are preoccupied with their tasks. Is it an abuse of his
powers?Maybe. Right now it doesn't matter.
Clark waits for Colin to put away their leftovers. As soon as the refrigerator
closes, he pounces. Grasping the teen by his hips, Clark interrupts Colin’s
gasp of surprise with a quick kiss as he crowds him up against the nearest
wall.
Colin’s eyes are wide with disbelief. Clark was… kissing him?He isn’t sure why
Clark has decided that now is a good time to make-out when Jonathan’s just in
the other room, but Colin doesn't think he'll lose any sleep over it.
Moaning pleasantly, Colin lets his eyes flutter closed. The kiss grows
increasingly passionate as they fight for the upperhand, tongues clashing
hungrily. Clark's hands grip Colin tighter, his fingers pressing into the
sensitive hollows in Colin’s bony hips.
Colin moans into Clark’s mouth, kisses back as hard as he can. It's thrice as
intense as earlier; Colin decides, craning his neck until his and Clark’s
mouths are fitted perfectly together.
Colin digs his nails into Clark’s shoulder blades, earning a deep rumbling
groan from the larger teen. Shifting as much as he can pinned against the wall
as he is, Colin manages to get one of his legs around Clark's waist. The new
angle has his and Clark's erections pressed hot against each other; the
friction sends white-hot bolts of pleasure through the two of them.
The sensation is intoxicating; leaving Colin's whole body pulsing as he rocks
his hips against Clark and emits these broken, shuddering moans and pleas.
Clark grunts and groans in response, trying to focus on kissing when all he
wants is to lay Colin across the counter and fuck him until he can't remember
his name. As the slighter teen's heel digs into the back of his leg, Clark is
more than tempted to do exactly what he's thinking.
"Oh," Colin exclaims breathlessly, finding himself suddenly sprawled out across
the cold countertop.
Clark shushes him, looking around the kitchen cautiously before yanking Colin's
shirt open carelessly. Buttons spray the surrounding area as lightly tanned-
skin is freed from oppressive cotton. Colin has half a mind to complain about
Clark ruining his favorite flannel shirt; however, any attempt to protest
forgotten when Clark starts sucking dark red hickies into his neck.
A whining, almost gasping whimper falls from Colin's trembling lips as he
arches into Clark; bearing more of his neck for the larger teen's questing
mouth. Colin feels like he’s melting as Clark nips hard at his pulse-point.
Biting his knuckles to try and muffle the wanton little sounds he's making,
Colin almost forgets that he needs to breathe. Luckily, Clark's happy to remind
him. Keeping Colin thoroughly distracted as he suckles at his neck, Clark
sneaks a hand betwixt their abdomens and surprises Colin by roughly fisting his
cock through his jeans. Colin chokes as he inhales sharply, skin prickling as
he sucks in precious oxygen. Colin's hips bucking into the warmth of Clark's
palm on their own accord; he's losing control of his body with every wave of
pleasure that washes over him.
Clark's surprised by how quiet Colin is. A part of him is agonizing over this
fact because he relishes how vocal Colin is, how unashamed he is to let Clark
know just how he likes to be touched, kissed or fucked. Clark tries not to pay
the silence any mind. No matter how badly he wants to hear Colin moan his name,
Clark wants just as much not to get caught.
Listening to Colin’s barely stifled, unintelligible pleas, Clark begins
stroking Colin's erection teasingly slow, unbearably slow; driving Colin insane
because he's so hard that it hurts.
"Cl...ark," Colin pants as quietly as he can against his fingers, wriggling and
writhing so much that he almost looks like he’s being tickled. "C'mon..." is
his unspoken plea as Colin’s legs tense around Clark, drawing him closer until
he's effectively trapped.
Their eyes lock then. Irises an almost alien shade of blue meet brown ones
darkened by desire to the point of blackness and, whoa,it's like Clark can see
into Colin's mind, into his soul; everything he has to offer and more. It
overwhelming, like a tidal wave crashing overhead. Clark feels like he's losing
himself, his heart flutters. How is it that, he, of all people, is effected so
much by this? He's an alien with super powers.
Colin's the first to break eye-contact. Sitting up on his elbows, he hooks an
arm around Clark's neck and pulls him down so that he can kiss him again and
again until Colin's gasping to catch his breath. "Fuck me," he pants
desperately.
It's a miracle they're able to get undressed with minimal fumbling; more so
that they're able to do so quietly.
Clark's fingers are slick with olive oil from the cupboard. He reminds himself
to never ever let his mother use it again as he presses his fingers inside of
Colin's shuddering body, eliciting a groan that Colin can barely suppress as
Clark stretches him with two fingers at once.
Clark knows they're working on borrowed time. Though Martha could easily spend
thirty minutes soaking in the tub, eventually, the game would go to half-time
and Jonathan would be up skulking around for a snack.
Ultimately, the preparation is sloppy and rushed but neither of them complains
as Clark enters Colin in one smooth thrust.
Colin claps his hand on his mouth, biting his fingers so hard he breaks the
skin. Clark's cock is perfect, finding his prostate without much effort. Ahh,
Finally… Colin thinks in utter relief, somewhere in the haze of his mind.
Clark's hand captures Colin's wounded one, pulling it free from his mouth so he
can replace it with his own lips. Even with their mouths pressed so close, it
does little to muffle the noise the smaller teen is making. Clark knows that,
with Colin’s increasing volume, it’s only a matter of time before they’re
caught. This in mind, Clark lifts Colin’s knees to his chest—momentarily
stealing the slighter teen’s breath away as Clark bears down on him with most
of his weight—prepared to quicken the pace of his thrusts.
Colin is barely given a chance to catch his breath before Clark starts fucking
him mercilessly; any that he's managed to catch flees from him again, and
suddenly it feels like his lungs are going to burst. Colin’s mouth falls open,
but he can’t moan; can’t make a single sound because it’s so intense.
Clark's fucking him with a purpose and, having been on-edge already, Colin
comes barely a moment later with a silent cry. His vision whites out; his whole
body is quavering, muscles quaking as he's overwhelmed by pleasure.
Colin falls limp, chest barely managing to rise and fall as he tries to
breathe.He’s completely wrung out; like he was struck by lightning and now his
nerves are completely fried.
Clark's got it in him to go all night—perhaps even longer than that—but he
comes all the same when Colin pulls him down for one final kissing, body
tightening around Clark's cock like a vice as Colin strains up into him.
No matter how many times they do this, Colin still gets somewhat disgusted by
the feeling of Clark emptying inside of him. He's easily distracted from this,
however, by the gentle, shallow thrusts of Clark's cock as the larger teen
slowly softens inside of him.
The two of them bask in post-coital bliss no longer than necessary.
As they’re pulling their clothes back on, Clark cleans them up with paper
towels from the nearby spool. He's filled with boundless energy, ready to take
on the world. Colin's grateful for Clark's attentiveness because he barely has
the energy to lift his head, let alone climb off the counter. He's completely
exhausted, ready to fall into bed and a blissful coma.
Uncoordinatedly, Colin barely manages to fasten his jeans on his own. He sinks
off the counter and onto the floor afterwards because he’s too tired to stand.
Lounging against the cabinets, Colin doesn’t give his discarded sneakers a
second-thought, instead he lets his eyes close for a just minute.
Clark goes to resume his earlier task of cleaning the dishes. He hopes his
father hasn’t picked up on how eerily quiet it's been in the entire time
they’ve been in the kitchen. Turning on the water, he notices that Colin hasn't
finished dressing. Rolling his eyes, Clark helps Colin onto his feet and then
back into his shoes. Kissing him on the neck, Clark tells Colin to fix his
shirt before he moves to dump dishes into the rising water.
Colin mumbles tiredly to himself, neck tingling where Clark kissed him. He
pulls his shirt closed, fingers seeking buttons. When he can’t find any of
them, he pauses before regarding the side of Clark’s face with a glare. It
lacks any heat, however; he’s too tired to be angry, really. "You... I can’t
believe you…" He groans, looking between Clark and his shirt as he tries to
think of something scathing to say. "This shirt was new..."
Clark looks sheepish. "You can borrow one of mine."
"Borrow? I'll damn well keep it." Colin grumbles.
When they get through with chores, they end up in the Clark's bedroom as he
turns it upside down looking for something that'll actually fit Colin's narrow
frame. Pulling one of Clark's old t-shirts over his head, Colin startles when
Martha throws the door open. Her arms are heavy with towels and extra blankets,
she looks around the room and then she smiles at Colin. "Your aunt says it's
fine if you stay over." She says, stepping over clothes strewn about the floor.
Offering Colin the toiletries, she makes a quip about Clark needing to clean
his room.
"Thanks Mrs. K," Colin says attempting to sound more grateful than wary.
"You're welcome, dear." Martha smiles before heading out. Right before she
pulls the door up, she tosses over her shoulder playfully: "try to get some
sleep, you two?"
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