A Kiss Can Be A Question

Clark had been at a party. Being a normal American teenager -- or at least pretending to be one -- he drank the required amount of alcohol. However, if he had been normal, he would be unconscious at the moment, just like most of the other teens. Instead, he never felt better, or braver.

That's why he'd ended up sitting on the front steps of Castle Luthor, waiting for the young businessman to return.

He had only wanted to talk to Lex, but then he saw his friend looking all bald and purple and sexy as he climbed out of a sweet black Mercedes-Benz. So Clark did the only thing a clearly non-intoxicated teen would do.


It wasn't often that Lex Luthor was wholly surprised. He paid people substantially to keep him informed of anything and everything. However, that did not include watching his one and only true friend... at least, not anymore.

And that was why he was seated on the hood of his car, utterly surprised and being thoroughly kissed by Clark Kent.

Lex had been ambushed by the raven-haired lunatic outside of Castle Luthor, when he'd returned home from a meeting in Metropolis. Tired and rumpled from the drive after a very long day, Lex had pulled into the driveway and parked in front of the mansion. One of his staff would move the black Mercedes to the garage. He had grabbed his suitcoat from the passenger seat, climbed out of the expensive vehicle, and had been promptly swept up by a tornado wearing sneakers.

The suitcoat now lay forgotten on the dusty drive. Lex's expertly tailored black slacks were rucked up around his calves. Large, strong hands held him captive, one on the back of his skull, the other spanning his lower back just above the waistband of his trousers. Powerful thighs encased in worn jeans separated his legs, causing him to be in closer intimate contact with Clark than he'd ever been.


This was not a regular kiss. Not that Clark was an expert on the subject, however, he was sure that regular kisses didn't include lifting your best friend onto the hood of his expensive car and trying to devour him. Nor did it necessitate pushing between his legs and pressing as much of your body against your friend so that you could feel every inch of his body pressed against yours.

Luckily, Lex didn't seem to mind. On the contrary. Clark could feel Lex's body melt against his. This made him bolder. He was going to make Lex want him as much as he wanted the untouchable, powerful man.


Clark tasted and smelled like licorice and the wind. There was something telling about that, but Lex's brain was currently incapable of forming coherent thought, other than a Hulkish: Clark kiss good. Lex like.

Forever and a day, Lex could have sat on the hood of his car, being ravished senseless by lustfully pouty lips and an ardent tongue. The cruel boy stopped, though, eliciting a throaty whine of protest from Lex, a sound which he never made before Clark.


Clark broke the kiss and almost chuckled at the whimper of protest coming from Lex. However, his attention was captivated by the smooth skin that smelled of expensive aftershave and pure Lex. Clark was on new grounds, but eagerness and lust made up for his inexperience. And when the young billionaire shivered in his arms, Clark felt as if he could conquer the world.


Clark was dragging wet lips across Lex's cheek to his ear. A small tongue-flicker on his earlobe. A gentle tug by blunt teeth. Hot, hot breath that sent shivers down his spine. "Hi, Lex," like an exhale of a prayer.

"Cla-rk," cracked answer, half-swallowed. Mouth moved to say more, but not a sound came. Clark had kissed Lex with all the experience and passion of a virgin and yet knocked him into next week. Possibly next month.

Maybe even next year.


The answer was rendered in a shaky voice, but Clark's attention was focused on those lips. He could see an inviting pink tongue slipping between white teeth. At the moment, Clark couldn't care less about conquering the world. He wanted to conquer Lex.

His mouth fastened on Lex's once more. The kiss told of unspoken feelings and future possibilities. However, a small doubt in his slowly sobering mind stopped Clark from ravishing the handsome man in front of him. Trying to keep skin contact, Clark grazed Lex's cheek with his own.


"Tomorrow--," rasp of stubble under Lex's ear. Lex's eyes rolled back, "--either return the kiss, or tell me it was Jagermeister's fault and to forget about it."


Deep, deep chuckle, and Lex's bones liquefied. It was a good thing that Clark was holding him, or he would have slid off the hood to puddle on the driveway at Clark's feet. He almost did, anyway, when Clark decided kissing was a better activity for that sinful mouth than speaking. A much better activity.

Much, much better, by much.


If Clark was tipsy, Lex was absolutely drunk on lust. It was proof positive that he, Clark Kent, farm-fresh superfreak, could inveigle Lex Luthor. Clark tightened his grip around his friend and kissed him deeper.


Clark kiss good. Lex like.


The desire to get out of his jeans told Clark that it was time to go, before he was no longer able. He unceremoniously released Lex and used all of his speed to leave the mansion grounds.


Clark... gone?

Lex flopped back on the hood of the car, the metal protesting when his head hit. He was too busy gulping in breaths of air to feel the pain. He had just been bested by a high school boy in the realm of mind-shattering kisses. A drunk high school boy, Lex realized, now that the scent of licorice and Clark's reference to Jagermeister registered in Lex's kiss-addled brain. One who, apparently, wanted him to make the decision tomorrow whether or not he wanted to be kissed again, by a sober Clark.

"Oh hell, yes," Lex answered aloud to the starry Kansas sky. He most certainly wanted to kiss Clark again.

And that was just for a beginning.


Alone in the Fortress of Solitude, Clark stood looking at the stars.

Tomorrow, he would have Lex's response. Tomorrow would not come soon enough.


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