Summary: Seven pleasures for bipolypesca's birthday.
7 Pleasures
Lust
Lex keeps a loose grip as he strokes up and down the length of his erection, red-tipped and straining, impatient in his hand. It’s torture. Hours spent on the very edge of immense ecstasy, never quite being allowed to fall into orgasm. His hips have long since given up any pretence of self-control, thrusting helplessly upwards on each stroke but never achieving the relief they so desperately seek. Lex grits his teeth, steels himself for this; doesn’t let his weakness get the better of him. Animal urges such as this are strong, but he is stronger.
He presses his thumbnail in behind the head of his cock, weathers the initial rush of impending orgasm, waits for it to subside and for the pain to filter through and calm him down. His left foot begins to cramp with the tension running through it but this doesn’t faze him; he continues to flex it in time with each futile wave of pleasure, though it does little to help. Looking up at the enlarged digital image of Clark’s giant, insufferable, flawless face, Lex thrusts fruitlessly and pants, “F-fucking tease,” with narrowed eyes.
Wrath
The sheets are a state -- wet and dirtied beyond all decent standards. The stifling heat of this night in particular is partly to blame. Lex collects a handful of the white satin and clenches it in his fist, ordering his body to stay spread and still against it, releasing the sheets to leave the fabric wrinkled while Clark fucks himself steadily on his cock. They’d had another argument today; Clark’s game of Keep Away with his precious secrets driving Lex on to higher and higher levels of aggravation.
Now, Clark is lowering himself onto Lex hard, slapping his thighs against fevered, sweat-glossed skin and biting into his red lower lip with each downward thrust. It should be enough to hurt but who the hell knows if Clark even feels it. However, he hasn’t looked away from Lex once, hasn’t tried to divert his gaze from the naked and focussed chill in Lex’s eyes and it is gratifying to at least know that that hurts. Clark is hard and dripping pre-come despite the anguished twist of his face. He seems to sense when Lex’s balls start to tighten because he slams down onto his dick, his face flushed with so many things. He is punishing himself and Lex is too angry, feels too vindicated, to not let him.
Envy
Lex lets Clark fuck him. It’s been years since the last time he laid chest-down with his legs spread and until very recently he could’ve sworn that it would never happen again. However, at least this time he can feel the lube cold inside him, knows that there is no possible way Clark can't be clean, so he has that worry out of his mind. It is obvious now how nervous Clark feels at the prospect, his whole body trembling like Lex refuses to let his own. Of course, it is equally obvious how excited Clark is, if the huge, hard pressure pushing into him is anything to judge from.
Lex closes his eyes, firmly refuses any attempts to turn him onto his back, and once he really gets into it, Clark seems to lose all interest in coercing him into a different position. He pushes in slowly, pulls out with care, and when Lex sets his jaw and tightens himself up, Clark comes already, right that moment, pulling out to leave enough semen all over the bed to provide Lex with a way out of any awkward questions about his own arousal. Lana Lang may be able to put a casual hand on Clark’s knee in the middle of the Talon, but only Lex can give him this. Only Lex has taken his virginity in every single way.
Pride
The sounds being torn from Clark’s throat are loud and animalistic, and Lex is pleased with his foresight in giving his staff the afternoon off. He drives in hard, slides his hands up Clark’s outstretched arms as far as he can before, on the next thrust, he nearly pushes him flat against the headboard. Clark’s fingers are white, gripping the mahagony with strength that Lex has yet to experience on his own body. Breathing deliberately heavily in his ear, Lex shifts upward with his next lunge, hits in at exactly the right angle, and revels in the pitch change in Clark’s moans. Again and again, Lex aims for and hits that spot, enjoying the cries he wrenches out of the poor, shivering body beneath him.
Finally Clark warns him -- disjointedly -- that he is about to come and Lex pushes into him harder and faster, grinning sharply when it happens and the shouts reverberating around the room become strangled, without the slightest restraint. When the last of the spasms around his erection cease, Lex does not stop fucking Clark, whose cries adopt a desperate and pained edge as he comes once again after never really softening. Lex isn’t sure whether this is a secret-related thing or not, but he chooses to believe he really is just that damn good, and continues to thrust.
Gluttony
Clark’s head is down, face pressed hard into sun kissed brown arms crossed beneath him. Lex works diligently, maintaining his façade of teasing indifference whilst secretly cataloguing every hitched breath, every helpless moan muffled into Clark’s skin. Hidden from view, Lex’s satisfaction is safe to display. He can do this for hours; has been going already for over fifteen minutes and is nowhere near bored yet -- in fact, has barely even started. Clark’s self-discipline is being stretched to its limit, his fingers clawing at the bedspread. There is the sound of ripping that they both choose to ignore rather than follow the alternative path to its inevitable, fruitless end.
Lex, settles between quivering splayed legs, lowers his head once more, tongues around the pucker of Clark’s hole; tightens his grip on Clark’s thighs when his unruly lover begins thrusting down against the mattress, then brings his palm down quick and hard on Clark’s right buttock when the more gentle reminder isn’t enough. This is definitely a job for no less than an hour. Lex needs to lick, nip, bite, suck, probe Clark until he’s delirious with need, whimpering pleas for release. Lex, of course, will eventually oblige, but until then he fully intends to eat Clark until the both of them are sore.
Greed
Clark is angry. Lex knew he would be, of course; had prepared for it sufficiently enough that he was only half-faking the smug laughter. Still, that look in his eyes… not the easiest thing to endure. “Oh, Clark, don’t look at me like that.” Clark’s reply is muffled by the gag, but there are definitely some curse words being uttered that are entirely unbefitting a Kansas farm boy. Lex shrugs, tilts his head and advises Clark that, next time, he should think twice before letting his guard down in Lex’s bed. Clark sets his jaw in a manner that says he’ll be sure to do that and Lex clamps his teeth together, annoyed with himself. He hadn’t meant that.
As Lex slides his lips down over Clark’s abdomen, takes the already hardening cock into his mouth, he wonders if Clark thinks the rope is a challenge. They both know that he could get free in an instant, but to actually do so would mean that Clark was exposing himself, something he seems to take issue with. As Lex sucks his dick in deeper, he tries to convey that this is not a test, not a question. It’s a statement: You’re mine, Clark. Of course, the time will come when Clark must go back to his family, when Lex must relinquish full ownership of him, but the Kents still have two more days' vacation in Metropolis. Lex smiles. Until then, this is all his.
Sloth
Sunlight is filtering through the window, Lex having forgotten to close the curtains earlier and now paying the price: Not being able to pretend that it is the middle of the night with hours of sleep in this bed ahead of him. No, it is mid-afternoon and there is no escaping that fact now. Clark swallows loudly next to him, still asleep, and clenches his hands once, twice; blunt fingernails scraping the skin of Lex’s stomach. Lex finds himself swallowing, the casual tenderness almost heart wrenching. He really should get up. Clark murmurs some unintelligible nonsense into Lex’s shoulder and suddenly that doesn’t seem like such a wise idea.
Of course, that is when the cell phone goes off. Clark jerks awake, retracts his hands instinctively. Lex looks at him, takes in the dishevelled hair, the pillow crease on his cheek. He really doesn’t want to answer the phone. Perhaps this is indicative of an approaching cold or some other illness, but Lex really isn’t sure he can come up with a good explanation for how his long lunch had turned into more of a half day. Clark has plans anyway -- he’d said something earlier about Pete and Chloe and the Talon -- so Lex really has no reason--. Clark holds his gaze, a significant weight to his stare, before lying back down and closing his eyes. Lex breathes deeply once then curls around him, lets the phone ring, and is sleeping long before it stops.