Off by jessica
Words: secret, pupil, wry.
When Lex gets lost in a club (usually The Monterey with its narrow hallways that stretched from wall to wall), when he starts recognising people he doesn't know, that's when he's happy to be wearing Clark's hand-picked wardrobe.
He climbs unnoticed up the stairs to the balcony, keeping an eye trained on the floor. Lex doesn't see Clark, but he doesn't not see him either. Sameness everywhere to make the masses feel at home, though the shaved heads do more to unnerve than comfort Lex. He's had enough bad experiences at clubs to last a lifetime, but Clark keeps reminding him that the emo kids aren't much for using fists.
The upstairs bar is closed, and the tiny alcove next to it, empty. Lex flops down onto a couch, ignoring the smell, and instead remembering another couch just like it.
The band finishes its set and exits the stage with a shouted 'thank you' as afterthought. Then the club gets loud. No matter how long you play, how loud they cheer, the noise doesn't really start until you tell them you're not coming back.
The crowd starts stomping the floor, clapping and screaming in organised cacaphony. It's a longer wait than usual, but the fans keep it up and the band returns with their reward. In the rush of people making their way back down to the floor, Lex almost misses the lanky form in an argyle sweater and cargo pants dropping next to him. It might be Clark.
In the dark, Lex feels the kiss on his neck before he's sure it's happening. There's a bite, and gentle sucking of the skin right under his ear. It's Clark enough for his liking.
"Hey, sexy," a raspy voice says next to his ear, just under the music. Lex groans. There's no doubt now.
"Oh God. You start using that word and it's not long before you take my name and start doing wrong things with it."
Lex blinks, twisting his head to catch a look in Clark's eyes. He can never be sure if Clark's body has finally given up and gotten him drunk, or if it's just a college boy trying to play along.
Clark's grin tells nothing. "How about I just do wrong things with you?"
There's kissing and more as Clark's hands pull Lex back on the couch. He wriggles underneath Lex, getting comfortable, and reaching under Lex's t-shirt.
"Oh, we really can't do this," Lex says, but kisses him anyway. Clark plays along, but Lex knows he heard. Clark always hears him, no matter how loud the music or how much he doesn't want to stop.
Lex sits back, his eyes drawn down the pattern of Clark's sweater to his pants. He's not going to touch; not here, anyway. "It's not that kind of club, Clark. We can't just slip into the backroom and have it off."
"No. That's why they gave us this couch." Clark stares up at him, pupils big in the darkness, a wry and secret smile. "There's always the bathroom. With its stalls and doors that lock."
Grinning, Lex lets himself be pulled back down on top of Clark. "How can a boy wearing argyle be this sleazy?" Clark's tongue pokes out, begging to be sucked. Lex shakes his head. "Let's go before you get into some real trouble."
Lex drags him down the stairs, Clark following too close behind, taking every opportunity to press up against him in the crowd. The warning look Lex sends back does nothing.
Thomas and Ethan catch them at the bar on their way out. Ethan's been drinking beer, which always makes him giggly. He starts up with the post-show debriefing, a few choice words about the singer's wardrobe thrown in between his own version of the encore song. Clark shuts him up with something whispered in his ear. Lex grabs Clark's hand again, pulling him away just to escape the smile on Ethan's lips.
They can't stop for confrontation in the kids milling out onto the street, and Lex keeps his tight hold on Clark, so as not to get lost again. He wants to look Clark in the eyes, ask him what the hell he was thinking. It's hard to yell when Clark's holding his hand like that, their fingers all sweaty and tangled together.
Their ride - Astrid's Gremlin - has already left, and there's no time to call for his car. Clark steps into the street, one hand still in Lex's, the other stretched out into traffic. A taxi pulls up to the sidewalk as quickly as if Clark had extended a bare leg.
Clark opens the door and ushers him inside. "Why again didn't we drive?" Lex asks.
"I don't remember," Clark says, and kisses him so Lex doesn't either. He breaks away long enough to tell the driver "Luthor Tower", then attacks Lex again.
It's embarrassing, Clark climbing on his lap with the gray-haired driver watching in the rearview mirror. It's hot, and Lex can barely reach around Clark to roll down a window. But it's quiet, only a hint of bass coming from crackling speakers, and Lex can hear Clark's heart thumping along.
"You're so hard, Lex," Clark's saying into his shoulder. "I want to suck you."
"Is that what you said to Ethan to get him to shut up."
Lifting his head, Clark looks right at him. "What's with the mood?"
"I don't know." Lex lays his head back on the seat. The roof is covered in carpeting and Lex wonders how big the hole it's covering must be. "Bad night?" he offers.
Clark arranges himself, half on the floor, half on the seat. He gets Lex's pants open, and pushes his t-shirt up just a bit. Lex hardens quickly in Clark's familiar hand. Clark brushes his lips over the wet head of Lex's cock, letting a careful tongue dart out. Lex closes his eyes, and himself, to everything but Clark's touch.
He comes with a sharp whine as he feels the car stop. Lex can't remember why he would ever stop doing this.
06/14/03