Title: Frustration
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Author's e-mail: Kelandris
Author's webpage: The Space Between
Series/Sequel: Sequels "Torture".
Disclaimer: Yes, practically everything I write involves characters originally created by other people. Those other people will hopefully feel flattered. Especially anyone from Millar Gough Ink or Warner Brothers. I'm not worth suing, really.
Archive: This page. Anyone else, write and ask. Address is up there a few lines.
Category: First Time moving towards established romance, light dusting of Angst, dash of Humor. Merest sprinkling of BDSM, in the edges around the edges of the details.
Rating: NC-17.
Spoilers: None so far as I know. No specific episodes mentioned.
Summary: Two boys in a barn. Well, what would *you* do?

"Frustration"
by Kelandris the Mad


Lex turned the lights off when he was a full mile from the Kents' farm. It was two in the morning, he was driving as slowly as he could along the dusty back road, and every inch of him ached for Clark. Last night, today, they'd been the hardest hours of all to live through. Knowing Clark was waiting. Hoping he was still awake.

Around midnight, when he'd been planning to drive over to the farm, an international call had come through the plant switchboard. Which had, of course, necessitated a call to him. Which had then necessitated Lex calling a few lawyers in Metropolis, waking them up in the middle of the night. Irritability soared on all sides until they learned who had placed the original call.

Then the lawyers moved like oiled sharks through water, grinning shark-like grins that were audible over the phone. Lex sent them on their way to parts unknown with a sigh, hoping the situation was resolved.

But all of it had delayed his arrival, delayed it by two full hours. He had nearly called Clark to explain the delay, but--what if Jonathan had answered? Jonathon, sleepy, irritable, thoroughly disposed against him, and that was before an after-midnight call arrived from the rich playboy to Kent's only son.

No. Better this way. Not safer. Just better.

The car was creeping now, the tires crunching over the dirt and gravel. The barn was just ahead and Lex had to tell himself to keep breathing. His hands were clad in supple black leather driving gloves, and he kept clenching them around the wheel, and then forcing himself to relax.

Finally, finally, he was just behind the barn, and parked, and he stepped out of the dark Porsche and walked towards the Kent's front gate.

Clark was there before him, opening it soundlessly and ushering him in, looking over his shoulder as he shepherded Lex across the wide, dirt yard towards the barn. As soon as they achieved the shadows, Clark pushed him against the wall, pressed against him, and kissed him. It was another inexpert, nervous, jittery kiss, and it melted everything in Lex's slim form that hadn't suddenly gone painfully hard.

"Clark..." he breathed, when he could breathe again, when Clark had pulled away. Clark didn't let go, but he did back away a bit, allowing breathing room. Lex reached up, curling his fingers into Clark's hair, and just looked at him. Clark was breathing hard, his expression serious, somber. His eyes were sparkling, catching random light and refracting it into glitter. He looked good with those bright, bright eyes.

"I was waiting," Clark whispered, looked down. "I got impatient."

"I'm sorry, Clark. I couldn't get away. There was a minor emergency at the plant."

Clark stared at him. Lex felt his lips quirk up in a near-smile.

"And I hate them all and they must die; soon, painfully, in awful ways, for preventing me from being here sooner."

Clark nearly laughed, and then stepped closer. "What if I hadn't been awake?"

"What if you...?" Lex grimaced, looking down at Clark's chest, tracing over it with light fingertips.

"Then, Clark, I would have kissed you, returned to the car, and driven home. Carefully," he added, swallowing.

"Carefully?"

Lex slowly reached out, grasping one of Clark's hands and pressing it against the bulge in his tailored black pants.

"Oh," Clark said, sounding as if Lex had punched him, instead of just surprised him. He looked around, out through the barn door, up at the stairs behind them.

"Can we--can we just--"

Lex looked at the stairs. "Go up? I've been waiting for you to ask. Lead on."

They walked up the stairs, trying to minimize the creaking of the old wood, and emerged into Clark's haven away from home. Lex was suddenly oddly charmed by the darkness, the silver patches of starlight on the floor. He'd been here--he couldn't count the amount of times he'd been here--helping Clark with his homework, talking with him late at night by the telescope. Leaning against the top railing of the stairs, watching the boy, discussing purity, truth, their friendship.

He'd loved every second of those talks, even when Clark had been mad at him. Clark would yell and Lex would retreat, one emotional and the other stiffly distant, and sometimes days went by before they managed to resolve...whatever it had been.

It didn't change anything. He still loved talking to Clark.

Now, though, everything seemed subtly disarrayed, oddly transformed. He was here with different purpose, and that purpose restructured every stick of wood he saw, every scrap of fiber, every grey nail. Objects half-seen in the silver light took on unexpected relevance. Here was not where their relationship had changed. But Lex was enough of a negotiator to realize that, with the right spin, what had happened at the castle could be downplayed, even ignored.

What happened tonight would change their friendship irrevocably. The realization made Lex shiver. He followed Clark to the couch, contemplating.

When Clark sat down Lex decided to amp the evening up a bit. Since he'd been so late. He stepped close to the boy, kneeling a leg on either side of his hips, waiting until he was perfectly in position before he sat down, rocking his hips forward in the same movement. Clark's hardness, hard against his--for a moment Lex closed his eyes and just existed, feeling desire, the hard edge of want, the want that was right now, entirely centered on Clark.

"Clark," he said, his voice warm, caressing Clark in a different way. Clark just gasped, his hips trembling underneath Lex.

"Oh, God--Lex, you're--oh, you feel so good--" Clark's hips arched up, pressing against Lex, and they both gasped.

"God, I have to get you out of those clothes," Lex murmured, and captured Clark's mouth before he could speak again. Clouds scudded over the moon, half-full but bright enough to see, if not to make out details. For a moment he wished they could be less discreet; he'd have preferred at least a light on in the corner. A lamp. A candle.

Full sunlight might have to wait for later.

Breathing hard, he broke the kiss and pulled Clark's t-shirt out of his jeans, sliding his hands underneath to caress all those warm planes and angles. The ripple of Clark's muscles under his young skin as he stretched nearly made Lex forget his own name. And then he was back, the boy's hands firm around his waist, Clark pushing him to the side, pushing him off.

"Clark, what the hell are you--"

"I want to--taste you--" His fingers fumbled at the clasp at his waist, and Lex obliged by standing long enough for Clark to slide the pants and his charcoal boxers down, throwing them on the chest behind him and stroking his hands up Lex's smooth-skinned thighs. He moved to the barn floor, kneeling between Lex's spread legs, and suddenly, Lex had some slight difficulty inhaling.

Just as suddenly, he was very glad there were only drops of moonlight accenting his form. He didn't honestly know what Clark would think. He'd had lovers in the past who thought he'd been lying to them, saying he was 19, 20, 21--because when the covers came off and the truth was exposed, they'd taken him for a child.

No hair. No hair anywhere, save for his eyebrows and his eyelashes, sparse as they were. And those had been bought at great cost, and he'd still rejected the first round of implants entirely.

But Clark seemed fascinated. He was humming under his breath, or moaning breathily; Lex wasn't sure which. He stroked his large palms up from Lex's knees to his hips, down over his inner thighs, down across the curve of his calf muscle, down to his feet.

It felt wonderful. Clark dipped his head and began to kiss where his hands had touched, brief little sucking kisses everywhere his hands had traced, and that felt even better. Soon Lex was breathing hard, clutching at the couch cushions, his cock nearly perpendicular and tapping against his belly impatiently. By the time Clark's head raised and the boy moved forward, breath was shuddering out of him, and his mouth was hanging open.

**God, Clark,** he thought, over and over. **God, Clark. Please. Oh, *please*--**

Clark licked his lips, moving a hand up to cup his balls lightly. His eyes were wide and dark, glistening whenever they caught the light. He licked his lips again, tensing, and stroked his fingers over the sac. The sensation was incredible. He wasn't being gripped; he wasn't being licked; it was just this soft, almost feather-light stroking. He'd had his balls *whipped*, for God's sake, but this...this was...new.

"Clark..." he whined, unable to hold back the words any longer. He tilted his head over the back of the couch, thrusting up.

Clark was there, brushing his lower lip against the weeping head of his cock, circling the base with fingers that stole around, glided, not gripped. They slid up and down his shaft, lightly pulling back the foreskin, exposing the moist head to the night air. Oh *God*--

"Clark," he whispered, trying not to scream. "Clark...please...please...*do* something..."

"I thought I was doing something." Flash of glittering eyes, quickly hidden behind hair darker than the night. Was--it couldn't be--was Clark--*laughing* at him?

Clark's breath ghosted out, chilling him further, and he grit his teeth, trying not to shake the boy.

"Clark," he said carefully. "You'll *kill* me if you don't *do* something--*more*...Just--please--*anything*, Clark..."

Clark licked his lips again, the tip of his tongue touching the tip of Lex's cock, and Lex arched up, yelling against the fist he'd hurriedly jammed in his mouth. The head of his cock popped into Clark's mouth, and Clark licked him, lapping at the slit, pulling the foreskin back in a slow glide and licking the exposed head. Lex couldn't keep still now, shaking his head, thrusting up, wanting Clark to take more of him.

Clark didn't disappoint him, opening his mouth wider and sliding down Lex, licking, swallowing, sucking hard. He slid off once, looking up. The cold air on such sensitive skin was similar to falling headfirst into snow. Naked.

He blinked, and fought back a whine. Luthors did not whine. No matter what the unnatural provocation.

"Am I--is this okay? What I'm doing?"

"God, yes," Lex breathed, reaching for him. He slid his fingers into his hair, guiding him back, guiding his mouth back. "Please. Don't stop. It feels...wonderful."

"Oh, good..." Clark swallowed him again, bobbing his head up and down, hands now swirling over his belly, down to his inner thighs. Lex cried out, bucking, and slid completely down Clark's throat.

He froze. Clark froze.

"Oh..." He bit his lip, hard, the pain bringing him back. "Don't move, I'll--"

Clark moved. He slid off again, looking up.

"Lex. Don't worry. I'll be fine."

"You're new at this, we should--"

"Lex--you can do whatever you want--"

Lex's hands clenched in Clark's hair, and it had to be uncomfortable, but the images that swept over him were compelling, immediate, essential. He shook his head, fighting them back.

"Don't--don't say that, Clark. I'm willing--to go at your pace."

**Breathe, Lex. Damn it, just breathe.**

**Image: Clark, tied to his bed, stomach down, and the whip in his hands, drawing ripe welts in patterned procession down that long golden spine--**

**Or better: *Lex* tied to the bed, and *Clark* with the whip, and the welts were rising so *fast*--**

He groaned, leaning back again, unclenching his hands in Clark's hair.

Clark wrapped both hands around Lex's cock, holding it. He looked up, mouth shaping words on a nearly inaudible puff of air.

"Fuck me, Lex."

His eyes searched out Clark's, incredulous moss-grey meeting nervous storm-green. He inhaled to speak, still trying to form words for whatever *he* was going to say, when Clark spoke again, and all the air left him.

"Fuck my...face," he said, and even in the dark Lex could see him blush. "Take me. Take...my mouth, Lex, please. I won't get hurt. I want you to...I want you to do this."

He looked up, and who could resist the entreaty in those eyes? Lex was not strong enough. He could admit that.

Slowly, limbs shaking, he stood, breathing as if he'd run for his life all the way from Metropolis.

"You're...sure about this?" he asked, tracing patterns onto Clark's cheek with one finger.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure." He let go of his cock, wrapping his hands around Lex's hips.

"Oh. Good," Lex breathed. He brushed back a lock of the boy's hair, fallen across his eyes. **So young for this. How did he ever learn...?** Shaking his head, he grabbed the base of his cock, pinching slightly, shuddering.

"Okay. Okay, Clark. Open your mouth."

Clark did, and the trust shining out of his eyes almost made Lex run for cover. He arched forward, slowly, sliding the tip back into the boy's mouth. It was hot, sweet, tight warmth, all around him, and soon, it would be hotter and tighter.

**Calm down, idiot. You're overthinking this. He *wants* to do this.**

Right. Lex shut his eyes, reconstructing the scene before him, and moved his hands from memory back into Clark's hair. Fisting large sections of it, he pulled, thought for a moment he might have yanked hair out, but Clark would have screamed if he had. Clark only hummed, the vibration intense, and he fucked his way back inside Clark's mouth.

He tried to be careful, he tried to be gentle, or as gentle as was possible when one was poling in and out of someone's throat. But Clark...*growled*, there was no other word for it, and grabbed his ass. He *pulled* Lex forward, gripping him so hard it hurt.

The sensation, the pain drove him over the edge. His eyes rolled back, and he clamped his hands around Clark's head, bending slightly at the waist. His hips began moving at speed, thrusting into Clark, fucking his mouth brutally. Lex cried out again, louder this time, and he knew he should stop, he knew he should slow down--if it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have gone this fast, but Clark wasn't saying anything, he wasn't doing anything but sitting there and what if--what if--

Lex looked down, panic riding him in a larger wave than pleasure, and Clark looked up, heavy-lidded eyes meeting his, and his throat...*clenched* around Lex, as if he'd had a seizure. But he was sitting there, one hand still wrapped around his left hip, one hand squeezing his own erection through the jeans he still wore, and he looked...*inhumanly* self-satisfied.

Lex felt he would have smiled if he'd been able to; he felt the shivers through him as Clark tried to nod; and Lex spasmed as he thrust into Clark, as fast as he'd thrust into *any* partner. His balls tightened and his abdomen clenched and his hips shot forward, and that was all it took; all it took for him to come, helplessly, murmuring Clark's name, and endearments he never thought he'd hear himself say, and words he didn't believe were *in* English, or any of the other six languages he knew.

Clark's mouth released him, and slipped off his slowly softening member. Lex rocked on his feet, finally rocking back enough to sprawl on the couch, inhaling as if he were fighting for each breath.

"God, Lex."

Lex looked over, dazed, nearly unconscious from the force of the orgasm that had ripped through him. He watched as Clark touched his mouth, again and again, tracing the outline of his lips.

"Clark," he murmured. "Are you--"

"Clark?"

They both froze, and the next sound Clark made was a squeak.

"You up there?"

"...um, Dad?"

"Son? It's three in the morning! What on earth--"

"I was, um...stargazing," Clark said. He shook his head, grimacing, and Lex fought back a laugh. Jonathan Kent took a step up the barn loft stairs.

*creak*

"Couldn't you sleep, Clark?" He still sounded suspicious, but it was calming. Clark combed his fingers through his hair quickly, pulling down his shirt, buttoning his jeans. He looked around frantically, and grabbed Lex's clothes, throwing them at the sprawled body on the couch.

"If I could move--" Lex murmured.

"Shhh! He'll hear you!" Clark whispered back.

"Son?"

*creak*

"Get dressed! Oh, God--"

*creak*

His brain had been puréed. He couldn't believe Clark actually expected him to move. Carelessly he slipped on the pants, only bothering to zip them halfway, and slid on the grey silk shirt, shrugging into it, shaking his head. Every muscle in his body quivered. He felt...drained. Lethargic. Melted.

"Lex, c'mon!" Clark hissed.

"Son? Is there--someone up there with you?"

*creak*

"You were so worried about the arrest thing earlier? Well, if my dad sees you--"

Lex blinked, and all the pieces fell into place. Night. Clark. Lex. In a barn loft. With Jonathan Kent climbing the stairs. Suddenly, he felt surprisingly energized.

*creak*

"Actually, Clark, I'm more worried about the shotgun factor," he whispered, diving behind the couch.

"The what?" Clark whispered back, but then walked forward, to meet his dad halfway. Jonathan Kent stood on the middle landing; Lex could just make out the glitter of his blond hair as the moonlight moved over it.

"Son, come to bed, now. It's a school night, and you need your rest. You can watch Lana's house tomorrow."

"Dad, I wasn't watching Lana's house--"

Jonathan paused, and Lex saw him put a hand out, gripping Clark's shoulder.

"Clark, I know it's the middle of the night, but I'm not completely blind. You know how you look when you lie, and tonight you sound guilty, too. What have I told you about lying to me?"

Clark squirmed uncomfortably.

"Dad, I promise. I wasn't even *thinking* about Lana."

Jonathan stared at him for a moment, looked around the edge of the barn loft and shook his head.

"All right. But you're going to bed now. And after school tomorrow, we've got the early corn harvest. I want you to do the three acres of Stowell's before dinner, and then we'll tackle the Inca tomorrow. Everything else still has some growing to do."

He clapped Clark on the back, and they walked down the stairs, Clark shuffling his feet as he went. He cast one pained look over his shoulder, gleaming eyes pinpointing Lex in the dark, and followed his father into the house.

Slowly Lex rose, expression puzzled. Three acres? Harvest three acres? Before dinner? All right, he knew he was no farmer, but that seemed a little ambitious for anyone, let alone a sixteen-year-old.

**Sixteen-year-old with a *very* talented mouth,** he thought, grimacing. Damn, he was getting hard again. And he still had to get out of the barn and across the front yard and into his car without being seen. *Damn*.

Still. It teased at him. Three *acres*?

And what the hell was he going to do in the meantime, until he could find a way to get Clark alone again?

END
************
Kelandris the Mad
serpent laugh and slither kiss


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