Title: A Dick Hard
Author: Meret
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Are you kidding?
Category: Slash
Pairing: Clex
Disclaimer: These characters are owned by Millar/Gough
and the WB. No profit is intended. If I owned them, I'd be far to busy, not to
mention exhausted, to write this.
Web Site: http://www.geocities.com/meretsv/
Feedback: meret118@netscape.net
Summary: Clark tries to figure out Lex. Some humor, a little angst,
and a lot of flirting.
My thanks to Reetchick and Tarchannon. The story is much
improved by their suggestions.
A Dick Hard by Meret
"I'll have a Dick Hard. What do you want, Clark?" asked Lex.
" . . . "
"Clark? What do you want to drink?" Lex raised his voice above
the pounding music.
"Oh. Um, I'll just have a Coke," he choked out. Clark hoped the
poor lighting in the noisy club kept him from looking as incredibly
dorky as he felt. Not to mention hiding his growing erection. Of
course Lex had meant a drink. He was crazy to think anything else.
He'd just been imagining things lately. Well, ever since he met Lex,
really.
Lex handed him his Coke and led them to the landing of a side
stairway that was marginally quieter than the bar area. Leaning his
arms against the metal banister, Clark pretended to watch the
sweaty, gyrating dancers below, while sneaking glances at Lex
sipping his drink. He had on a black mesh shirt so tight Clark could
see his nipples, and black leather pants with a lace-up fly that
hugged his form snugly enough for Clark to know he wasn't
wearing any underwear. He hadn't known they even *made* lace-
up fly's before tonight, but now all he wanted to do was undo the
laces with his teeth.
And his tongue. Definitely his tongue.
The black made Lex's skin look luminous, as if Clark could warm
himself by standing close enough. *This* was what it meant to
describe someone as 'hot.' His whole body burned to touch him.
Lex caught him staring, and raised an eyebrow inquiringly. Busted!
He fumbled for something to say. He'd been semi-speechless and
semi-erect at the sight of Lex since he'd picked Clark up in his
Ferrari tonight. "So, what's in a Dick Hard?" He winced at what his
mouth had decided to say. Where was a psycho mutant to run after
when you needed one?
Lex chose not to respond with any of the obvious replies, but
smirked to let Clark know he was letting him off easy. "It's gin,
vodka, rum and Sprite, garnished with lime," he said, raising his
glass in illustration. "Do you want to taste?"
"Uh, sure," he said, turning to face Lex. Of course he did. He was
cool. He was . . . sophisticated. He could swallow Hard Dicks, er,
Dick Hards. He'd expected Lex to hand him the drink but instead,
he held it up to Clark's mouth, cupping his face with his other hand
to steady the glass. Clark froze, the glass resting against his lip.
Looking at Lex, he slowly opened his mouth. He caressed the lip of
the glass with the tip of his tongue, and Lex gently tipped in a small
amount of the liquid. It was wet and fiery, exactly the way he'd
imagined Lex tasted.
Lex stared at his mouth as if his eyes were a compass and Clark's
lips were the North Pole. The pole part was right anyway. Clark
was hard enough to pound nails, and he should know. He shivered
as he felt the other man stroking his jaw lightly. It would be so easy
to turn his head just fraction and lick Lex's hand, sliding his tongue
through his fingers to caress the skin in between. So easy. The
staccato music faded, drowned out by the sound of his heartbeat as
the world narrowed to this one moment. Lex slowly lowered the
glass and leaned in toward him, still staring at his lips. Clark closed
his eyes, moving forward by instinct. He swallowed, then parted his
mouth slightly and felt . . . nothing.
Opening his eyes, he saw Lex three feet away, breathing heavily.
Clark stepped toward him, but Lex turned around abruptly and
faced the railing. He quickly drained his glass and let out a
shuddering sigh. "So, what did you think of the drink?"
Clark was confused, and not by the question. "It was okay, I guess."
He wasn't imagining things that time. He *knew* he wasn't! What
the hell was Lex doing?
"It's an acquired taste."
"I've never understood that. If something doesn't taste good, why
continue drinking it enough *to* acquire a taste for it." He watched
Lex tense up and wondered if he'd said something wrong. Frustrated,
in more ways than one, he drank his Coke and tried to
focus on the scantily clad people below.
Okay, enough is enough, he thought. He was finally confident
enough, irritated enough, or just plain horny enough to make the
first move. Time to take the bull by the horns as his father would
say. Actually his father would probably say, 'What the hell are you
thinking!' *Loudly*. Clark squirmed internally and made a mental
note to himself - when you decide to seduce your male best friend,
don't think about your father's reaction.
Lex broke the increasingly uncomfortable silence. "I never told you
why I like gin, did I? When I was a small child I thought that gin
must be what gave the Jinns in Arabian Nights their magic powers.
I wasn't even old enough to read yet, Clark, so you can stop
grinning. I wanted magic powers of my own, of course."
"Of course. And being the budding scientist even then, you had to
test your theory, "
"Later, the doctor said I was lucky that it hadn't stayed in my
system long enough to do any real harm."
"They had to pump your stomach?" he said with concern.
"No," Lex said, finally turning to face Clark.
Clark grimaced. "You mean . . ."
"Projectile vomiting. Better than Linda Blair."
One minute Lex looked like he was two seconds from kissing him.
The next minute he was talking about puke! Was he *trying* to
drive him insane? Clark wanted to groan, and not in a good way.
Concentrate, he told himself. "So you like gin because it reminds
you of being violently sick?"
"No, I like gin because it reminds me who I was violently sick
*on*," he said, a smug expression on his face.
Uh-oh. "Let me guess. Your father?"
"Right in the face. I don't think he came near me for six months."
Ugh. He sort of sickly considered if Lex's father had had a beard
back then as well. And more importantly what sort of parents left
alcohol out for a child to get into. "I don't think the gin makers are
going to be using that in their advertising campaign anytime soon,"
he joked weakly
"No, I wouldn't think so." Lex absently swirled the ice in his empty
glass. "Do you want another Coke?" indicating Clark's nearly empty
drink with a nod.
Clark squared his shoulders and stepped closer to Lex, deliberately
invading his space. "Maybe I should try something harder." Lex
froze. He reminded Clark of a cat spotting its prey, all coiled energy
and hyper-alertness under a sleek surface.
"Then *maybe* you should order a Maiden Blush. It's cherry
flavored," Lex said cautiously, as if asking a question.
"No." He shook his head definitely. "I'm tired of cherry." Clark
willed him to understand so he wouldn't have to say it aloud,
looking at Lex hard. Or hard Lex, he thought, sparing a quick
glance down. Yes! He knew he wasn't imagining things.
Lex narrowed his eyes at Clark as if he were trying to decipher an
unusually difficult chemical formula. "Then I'd recommend an
Alexander. That is, if you're sure you want something harder."
Something eased inside of Clark that he hadn't even realized had
been held tight, like a door suddenly giving way. "Don't tell me
they named a drink after you?" he teased lightly.
Lex smiled in surprise. "No, but a gaming club in London did name
a drink after my father. It's called a Magnificent Bastard. It was
meant as an insult, but he liked it so much he orders one where ever
he goes now."
Clark had never cared less about Lionel Luthor than he did right
then. "So what's in an Alexander?" Could Lex's skin could possibly
be as smooth as it looked? Was it softer behind his knees? In the
crease of his thigh? What did his naked scalp feel like? What did it
taste like?
Leaning over to be heard over a particularly loud song, Lex said,
"It's gin, creme de cacao, and light cream with nutmeg on top."
The faint puffs of warm air against Clark's ear sent tingles down his
spine that ended in his aching cock.
"It's pale and smooth, but with a kick that sneaks up on you. It coats
your tongue and leaves a slightly bittersweet aftertaste," Lex said
slowly, each word a caress. "I think you'd like it."
"Do you," Clark cleared his throat, "Do you have that stuff at your
house?"
"I assume so. Why?" Lex tucked the tag down in Clark's shirt,
brushing the skin underneath as he withdrew his hand.
The hairs on the back of Clark's neck stood up, along with
everything else. "Will you teach me to make one. Now?" he asked,
trying not to sound as if he was about 10 seconds from coming in
his jeans. His whole body felt taut, as if he were stretching cell by
cell towards something he hadn't been sure even existed before
now.
"You want to learn how to make an Alexander? Thinking of
becoming a bartender?" Lex gave him another searching gaze.
"No." he answered firmly, as sure of this as he was of anything in
his life.
"Clark . . . are you ready--"
He reached into Lex's pants pocket quickly, not daring to linger as
Lex inhaled sharply in reaction, and pulled out his car keys.
Holding his hand up between them, he offered the keys on his palm.
Lex hesitated, then nodded and took the keys without breaking eye
contact. "Let's go."
Clark had no interest in learning how to mix an Alexander. He put
his hands in his pockets to furtively adjust himself, staring at the
hypnotic movement of Lex's ass proceeding down the stairs in front
of him. The leather stretched taut and then released with each step,
each flex of muscle reflecting the lights in the club. But he
absolutely wanted Lex to teach him to make a Dick Hard, he
thought. Specifically - Lex's dick.
He was suddenly very thirsty.
End
Author's Notes: I have no idea who first referred to
Lionel as a Magnificent Bastard, but it wasn't me.
Dick Hard - http://www.webtender.com/db/drink/3725
Maiden's Blush - http://www.webtender.com/db/drink/567
Alexander - http://www.webtender.com/db/drink/15
I have no idea what an Alexander tastes like. The recipe
sounds slightly similar to a Kahlua and Creme which I have had,
so I described that.
I can probably count on one hand the types of alcohol I've ever tried,
so I just chose ingredients for symbolic reasons. This would most
likely taste terrible, and with that garnish, might even kill you,
so DON'T try this at home. In my mind though, this is the recipe for
a Magnificent Bastard - scotch, sour mix, some bitters, grenadine to
make it blood red, a splash of raspberry juice, served over ice,
with a sprig of hemlock as garnish.
Author: Meret
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Are you kidding?
Category: Slash
Pairing: Clex
Disclaimer: These characters are owned by Millar/Gough
and the WB. No profit is intended. If I owned them, I'd be far to busy, not to
mention exhausted, to write this.
Web Site: http://www.geocities.com/meretsv/
Feedback: meret118@netscape.net
Summary: Clark tries to figure out Lex. Some humor, a little angst,
and a lot of flirting.
My thanks to Reetchick and Tarchannon. The story is much
improved by their suggestions.
A Dick Hard by Meret
"I'll have a Dick Hard. What do you want, Clark?" asked Lex.
" . . . "
"Clark? What do you want to drink?" Lex raised his voice above
the pounding music.
"Oh. Um, I'll just have a Coke," he choked out. Clark hoped the
poor lighting in the noisy club kept him from looking as incredibly
dorky as he felt. Not to mention hiding his growing erection. Of
course Lex had meant a drink. He was crazy to think anything else.
He'd just been imagining things lately. Well, ever since he met Lex,
really.
Lex handed him his Coke and led them to the landing of a side
stairway that was marginally quieter than the bar area. Leaning his
arms against the metal banister, Clark pretended to watch the
sweaty, gyrating dancers below, while sneaking glances at Lex
sipping his drink. He had on a black mesh shirt so tight Clark could
see his nipples, and black leather pants with a lace-up fly that
hugged his form snugly enough for Clark to know he wasn't
wearing any underwear. He hadn't known they even *made* lace-
up fly's before tonight, but now all he wanted to do was undo the
laces with his teeth.
And his tongue. Definitely his tongue.
The black made Lex's skin look luminous, as if Clark could warm
himself by standing close enough. *This* was what it meant to
describe someone as 'hot.' His whole body burned to touch him.
Lex caught him staring, and raised an eyebrow inquiringly. Busted!
He fumbled for something to say. He'd been semi-speechless and
semi-erect at the sight of Lex since he'd picked Clark up in his
Ferrari tonight. "So, what's in a Dick Hard?" He winced at what his
mouth had decided to say. Where was a psycho mutant to run after
when you needed one?
Lex chose not to respond with any of the obvious replies, but
smirked to let Clark know he was letting him off easy. "It's gin,
vodka, rum and Sprite, garnished with lime," he said, raising his
glass in illustration. "Do you want to taste?"
"Uh, sure," he said, turning to face Lex. Of course he did. He was
cool. He was . . . sophisticated. He could swallow Hard Dicks, er,
Dick Hards. He'd expected Lex to hand him the drink but instead,
he held it up to Clark's mouth, cupping his face with his other hand
to steady the glass. Clark froze, the glass resting against his lip.
Looking at Lex, he slowly opened his mouth. He caressed the lip of
the glass with the tip of his tongue, and Lex gently tipped in a small
amount of the liquid. It was wet and fiery, exactly the way he'd
imagined Lex tasted.
Lex stared at his mouth as if his eyes were a compass and Clark's
lips were the North Pole. The pole part was right anyway. Clark
was hard enough to pound nails, and he should know. He shivered
as he felt the other man stroking his jaw lightly. It would be so easy
to turn his head just fraction and lick Lex's hand, sliding his tongue
through his fingers to caress the skin in between. So easy. The
staccato music faded, drowned out by the sound of his heartbeat as
the world narrowed to this one moment. Lex slowly lowered the
glass and leaned in toward him, still staring at his lips. Clark closed
his eyes, moving forward by instinct. He swallowed, then parted his
mouth slightly and felt . . . nothing.
Opening his eyes, he saw Lex three feet away, breathing heavily.
Clark stepped toward him, but Lex turned around abruptly and
faced the railing. He quickly drained his glass and let out a
shuddering sigh. "So, what did you think of the drink?"
Clark was confused, and not by the question. "It was okay, I guess."
He wasn't imagining things that time. He *knew* he wasn't! What
the hell was Lex doing?
"It's an acquired taste."
"I've never understood that. If something doesn't taste good, why
continue drinking it enough *to* acquire a taste for it." He watched
Lex tense up and wondered if he'd said something wrong. Frustrated,
in more ways than one, he drank his Coke and tried to
focus on the scantily clad people below.
Okay, enough is enough, he thought. He was finally confident
enough, irritated enough, or just plain horny enough to make the
first move. Time to take the bull by the horns as his father would
say. Actually his father would probably say, 'What the hell are you
thinking!' *Loudly*. Clark squirmed internally and made a mental
note to himself - when you decide to seduce your male best friend,
don't think about your father's reaction.
Lex broke the increasingly uncomfortable silence. "I never told you
why I like gin, did I? When I was a small child I thought that gin
must be what gave the Jinns in Arabian Nights their magic powers.
I wasn't even old enough to read yet, Clark, so you can stop
grinning. I wanted magic powers of my own, of course."
"Of course. And being the budding scientist even then, you had to
test your theory, "
"Later, the doctor said I was lucky that it hadn't stayed in my
system long enough to do any real harm."
"They had to pump your stomach?" he said with concern.
"No," Lex said, finally turning to face Clark.
Clark grimaced. "You mean . . ."
"Projectile vomiting. Better than Linda Blair."
One minute Lex looked like he was two seconds from kissing him.
The next minute he was talking about puke! Was he *trying* to
drive him insane? Clark wanted to groan, and not in a good way.
Concentrate, he told himself. "So you like gin because it reminds
you of being violently sick?"
"No, I like gin because it reminds me who I was violently sick
*on*," he said, a smug expression on his face.
Uh-oh. "Let me guess. Your father?"
"Right in the face. I don't think he came near me for six months."
Ugh. He sort of sickly considered if Lex's father had had a beard
back then as well. And more importantly what sort of parents left
alcohol out for a child to get into. "I don't think the gin makers are
going to be using that in their advertising campaign anytime soon,"
he joked weakly
"No, I wouldn't think so." Lex absently swirled the ice in his empty
glass. "Do you want another Coke?" indicating Clark's nearly empty
drink with a nod.
Clark squared his shoulders and stepped closer to Lex, deliberately
invading his space. "Maybe I should try something harder." Lex
froze. He reminded Clark of a cat spotting its prey, all coiled energy
and hyper-alertness under a sleek surface.
"Then *maybe* you should order a Maiden Blush. It's cherry
flavored," Lex said cautiously, as if asking a question.
"No." He shook his head definitely. "I'm tired of cherry." Clark
willed him to understand so he wouldn't have to say it aloud,
looking at Lex hard. Or hard Lex, he thought, sparing a quick
glance down. Yes! He knew he wasn't imagining things.
Lex narrowed his eyes at Clark as if he were trying to decipher an
unusually difficult chemical formula. "Then I'd recommend an
Alexander. That is, if you're sure you want something harder."
Something eased inside of Clark that he hadn't even realized had
been held tight, like a door suddenly giving way. "Don't tell me
they named a drink after you?" he teased lightly.
Lex smiled in surprise. "No, but a gaming club in London did name
a drink after my father. It's called a Magnificent Bastard. It was
meant as an insult, but he liked it so much he orders one where ever
he goes now."
Clark had never cared less about Lionel Luthor than he did right
then. "So what's in an Alexander?" Could Lex's skin could possibly
be as smooth as it looked? Was it softer behind his knees? In the
crease of his thigh? What did his naked scalp feel like? What did it
taste like?
Leaning over to be heard over a particularly loud song, Lex said,
"It's gin, creme de cacao, and light cream with nutmeg on top."
The faint puffs of warm air against Clark's ear sent tingles down his
spine that ended in his aching cock.
"It's pale and smooth, but with a kick that sneaks up on you. It coats
your tongue and leaves a slightly bittersweet aftertaste," Lex said
slowly, each word a caress. "I think you'd like it."
"Do you," Clark cleared his throat, "Do you have that stuff at your
house?"
"I assume so. Why?" Lex tucked the tag down in Clark's shirt,
brushing the skin underneath as he withdrew his hand.
The hairs on the back of Clark's neck stood up, along with
everything else. "Will you teach me to make one. Now?" he asked,
trying not to sound as if he was about 10 seconds from coming in
his jeans. His whole body felt taut, as if he were stretching cell by
cell towards something he hadn't been sure even existed before
now.
"You want to learn how to make an Alexander? Thinking of
becoming a bartender?" Lex gave him another searching gaze.
"No." he answered firmly, as sure of this as he was of anything in
his life.
"Clark . . . are you ready--"
He reached into Lex's pants pocket quickly, not daring to linger as
Lex inhaled sharply in reaction, and pulled out his car keys.
Holding his hand up between them, he offered the keys on his palm.
Lex hesitated, then nodded and took the keys without breaking eye
contact. "Let's go."
Clark had no interest in learning how to mix an Alexander. He put
his hands in his pockets to furtively adjust himself, staring at the
hypnotic movement of Lex's ass proceeding down the stairs in front
of him. The leather stretched taut and then released with each step,
each flex of muscle reflecting the lights in the club. But he
absolutely wanted Lex to teach him to make a Dick Hard, he
thought. Specifically - Lex's dick.
He was suddenly very thirsty.
End
Author's Notes: I have no idea who first referred to
Lionel as a Magnificent Bastard, but it wasn't me.
Dick Hard - http://www.webtender.com/db/drink/3725
Maiden's Blush - http://www.webtender.com/db/drink/567
Alexander - http://www.webtender.com/db/drink/15
I have no idea what an Alexander tastes like. The recipe
sounds slightly similar to a Kahlua and Creme which I have had,
so I described that.
I can probably count on one hand the types of alcohol I've ever tried,
so I just chose ingredients for symbolic reasons. This would most
likely taste terrible, and with that garnish, might even kill you,
so DON'T try this at home. In my mind though, this is the recipe for
a Magnificent Bastard - scotch, sour mix, some bitters, grenadine to
make it blood red, a splash of raspberry juice, served over ice,
with a sprig of hemlock as garnish.
