Title: Basketball Tuesdays (6/?)
Author: elgatoneun
Rating: NC-17 for language, slash, m/m interaction
Pairing: Clark/Whitney
Summary: Whitney gives Clark a ride
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, at all.
Spoilers: Everything up to and including Kinetic.
Feedback: Would be appreciated. Please let me know what you think.
Notes: There's a shower scene.
Clark didn't know how long he sat there on the bench, trying to work through what had just happened. He and Whitney had … he and Whitney had … well he didn't know what exactly. They had touched, or rather Whitney had touched him – and he had responded. Oh man, he had definitely responded. The fact was he was still a little, uh, responsive. Clark looked down at his lap, yup, still there. Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts.
Mutant bugs, ugh, finding Greg Arkin's mom, and Mrs. Greer. Clark felt it working. Finding Lana in the crypt, entombed, now that had just been creepy. Dead people he could handle, but being buried alive? Suffocated, man, it was too horrible. He would prefer being shot or crushed rather than slow asphyxiation. Probably because he couldn't imagine getting hurt physically in that way, but he did need oxygen to breathe, at least he thought he did. Not for the first time, he realized how morbid it was to try and figure out all the possible ways he could die.
Clark glanced up at the clock on the south wall between the boys' and girls' locker rooms. At least fifteen minutes had to have passed since Whitney went to take his shower. What was taking him so … what if Whitney wasn't really alright? He had fallen down pretty hard. He'd checked Whitney over but it wasn't as if he knew what to look for exactly, he had no real medical knowledge, he wasn't a doctor. What if Whitney was lying unconscious, hurt … Clark raced into the locker room.
He could make Whitney out in the showers from his angle behind a row of lockers based at the entrance. Whitney's back was towards him, upper body bent forward, leaning against the tile, seemingly trying to support himself. His left arm straight out, palm flat against the tile with his head down, the nozzle spraying water down onto the back of his neck. He had an intense expression on his face and emitted a low groan.
"Whitney, are you …" the words died on Clark's lips as he moved forward … and realized. A couple of steps had given him an unobstructed view of Whitney from the side. He saw Whitney's right hand steadily moving up and down the length of his cock. Whitney moaned low and hot. The sound hit Clark hard. Clark had to close his eyes for a second. When he opened them he was treated to the same mesmerizing sight.
Whitney's eyes were closed. Clark saw Whitney's body in a mist of water and steamy vapor. Rivulets streamed down a broad-shouldered back, then around the curve of a firmly rounded ass and sleek muscular legs. Clark wanted to run his hands down the same path as the hot water. He wanted to grab, touch, feel, oh God. he wanted. His body wanted … Whitney, what was being offered to him … what was on display. He felt his own erection pushing against his jeans. The denim material that had been so loose and comfortable during the basketball game was tight now, confining.
Whitney's hand moved faster and he was biting down on his lower lip. Deep guttural sounds issued forth; they were muffled and throaty. It was the most erotic thing Clark had ever heard. He stood transfixed, a prisoner to his senses: the sight of Whitney pleasuring himself, the raspy moans, even the cool humidity of the locker room. Clark couldn't move. He saw Whitney's body tighten suddenly, and then a long trembling shudder accompanied by a half-strangled shout.
Clark felt hot stickiness erupt against his cock and lower stomach. Clark brought his hand down to his crotch, felt himself through the rough fabric and almost moaned. The cotton of his briefs rubbed abrasively against his groin. He couldn't believe it, but the evidence was there. He had just cum in his pants … from watching Whitney. It was unbelievable … it was incredible.
The small corner of his brain that was still functioning urged him to flee. He saw Whitney straighten up and turn around, letting the water run down his back. For the briefest millisecond their eyes met, then Clark bolted out of there.
Clark ran all the way to his loft and collapsed on the couch. He was panting, breathing heavily. His blood was racing and his heart was pounding. It had nothing to do with the speed and everything to do with one wet, naked, blond and exceptionally sexy jock. He couldn't get the images of Whitney out of his head. Except now, he was there too, hot, naked and in the shower with him, running slick soapy hands all over that smooth athletic body. Or pushing him against the cold tile, pressing his body against … oh God! Whitney was still at the gym – waiting to give him a ride home!
Clark was halfway down the lane when he realized he had to change his clothes. A split second later, he was rummaging through the laundry basket, searching desperately for a clean pair of jeans. He finally found one, but it was darker than the ones he had on. He hurriedly stripped off his briefs and jeans. He crumpled them into a ball and threw them under the bed. He yanked on a clean pair of underwear and the fresh jeans. They were a bit tighter than his other jeans. He zipped down the stairs, almost colliding with his mother.
"Clark! What on earth …" Martha couldn't ever get used to seeing Clark zooming here and there. It used to drive her crazy when Clark was a small boy and he would seemingly zap around, magically disappearing and reappearing.
"Sorry, Mom," Clark responded with his trademark adorable grin, and Martha, mother first and foremost, couldn't maintain her exasperation with this giant that used to be her little boy. She reached up and tousled his hair, wistfully remembering when she used to reach down instead of up.
"Clark, you know how your father dislikes it when you do that."
"Yeah, okay, oh, I'll be home in about fifteen minutes," Clark blurred past her.
"Aren't you home, now?" she asked in confusion. Clark blurred back to her.
"I'm at school right now, Whitney's going to give me a ride home. Bye." Clark blurred away from her again.
Martha felt a small burst of pride. She knew Clark couldn't have found it easy to help out his rival in Lana Lang's affections, but he overcame it, apparently enough so that they could be friendly. Her little boy was turning into quite a man.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Whitney finished dressing and made his way back out to the gym. He felt the cool air on his head. He hadn't completely dried his hair. He looked around the gym searching for Clark. Great, he had probably already left, tired of waiting around.
Jerking off in the locker room showers had been stupid. It wasn't something he ever thought he would have done … alone anyway. He had been so idiotically euphoric thinking about the progress he was making with Clark, he had gotten excited. So he had taken care of himself. Then at the end, he could have sworn he had seen Clark, but in the next instant he had vanished. He must of hit his head harder than he had thought when he fell down. Or maybe it was just a mirage conjured up in a fevered, orgasmic haze.
Shit, maybe he had scared Clark off.
"Are you ready to go?" Whitney was startled by the sudden appearance of Clark, seemingly out of nowhere.
"Where were you?"
"I just stepped out for some fresh air. Can we go? I've got to get home and do my chores."
"Sure. Come on." Whitney led Clark out behind the gym to where his F-150 was parked. He took a moment to appreciate the sturdy beauty of his truck.
"Nice truck. It's new, right?" Clark smiled as Whitney, and there was no other way to put it, lovingly caressed the hood of his truck. Whitney beamed with pride.
"Yeah, I just got her a month ago. Get in." Whitney stashed his gym bag carefully in the back while Clark slid into the passenger seat. He got in also, adjusted his own seatbelt and turned the ignition. The smooth purring of the engine always relaxed him.
"So what do you think? Basketball tryouts are in a week, you could sign up, Clark."
"I don't think my parents will let me. They're kind of overprotective." High school sports were just not an option for him. Today's knockdown with Whitney just reminded him of that fact.
Clark heard Whitney mutter something under his breath.
"What did you say?" Clark asked, his curiosity piqued.
"I said, I forgot that you were their angel baby." Clark laughed. He turned towards Whitney, waiting for an explanation.
"It was just something I overheard from one of my mom's garden club meetings. You know how everyone talks in this town." They were pulling out of the parking lot and headed towards Main Street. Whitney continued speaking.
"They were curious about where you came from, small children just don't pop up out of nowhere, you know. I think your mom told Mrs. Willard one time that the angels had brought you down from heaven, or something like that. So, then, they started calling you that. And of course, it doesn't hurt that you're the perfect son, so helpful, polite, kind to small children and animals, that kind of stuff. " Whitney gave him a rueful look, then turned his attention back to the road.
"What else do they say?" there was edge to Clark's question. Curiosity and talk about him never brought any good, there was always a threat to him, his parents, their "normal" life. It made him anxious and uneasy.
Whitney was surprised at Clark's hostility and tried to soothe his ire.
"People just wonder, Clark. You kind of appeared out of nowhere. Your parents found you in a cornfield. They're going to speculate. Mrs. Kopek thinks your real parents were part of some kind of covert government research operation and were killed when the whole thing blew up. She thinks that the meteors were just fragments of some type of secret NASA spy satellite and that the whole town was infected by some weird chemical radiation that mutated almost everybody in Smallville as a result." Whitney glanced over at Clark, thinking to find him amused at the outlandish and imaginative outpourings of the town's ex-librarian. Clark was not amused, in fact he was visibly upset.
Shit! Whitney couldn't believe he'd been so insensitive as to mention Clark's biological parents and joke about their presumed death. He felt a sinking sensation in his gut.
"Oh, man, I'm sorry, I didn't mean …" Whitney trailed off miserably.
"It's okay, Whitney. People talk, and the freakish Kent kid is just another topic of conversation to bring up occasionally, I get it." Whitney flinched at the sound of Clark's bitter reply.
"It's not that. It's just, you know, the day of the meteor crash just lingers in everybody's mind. So many things happened. I don't know. It's the one day that nobody in this town will ever forget. Everybody remembers it and all the events associated with it, you just happen to be one of them, I guess." Whitney couldn't tell if he had made the situation better or worse with his lame attempt at an explanation.
"So what do you remember then? What are the events that you'll never forget?" Clark couldn't conceal the resentment clearly present in his voice. Would someone always have to throw the meteor shower in his face? Wouldn't he ever get a reprieve from the unrelenting guilt that clawed at him?
Whitney took a moment before speaking. He wondered if he should tell the truth or make fake sympathy noises, the same kind of bullshit spiel about hope and togetherness helping people overcome tragic events that everyone else always trotted out. What the hell, Clark already knew most of his deep dark secrets anyway.
"It was actually one of the best days of my life." Whitney paused there and looked over at Clark to see his reaction. Clark merely looked startled, but not angered or disgusted.
"I guess I had just gotten out of kindergarten class. My mom dropped me off at the store. My dad was supposed to be watching me, but he was too busy running around the store. I was trying to follow him, but he moved so fast, I couldn't keep up. I remember thinking that he was so tall, that I could never be as tall as him, that he would grow along with me, and that I'd always be so much smaller than him. Do you remember stupid things like that?"
"Yeah, but I don't think it's stupid. My dad used to play airplane with me. He'd lie down on the floor and hoist me up in the air with his legs and I'd pretend to be a plane and fly. That was the best." Clark smiled at Whitney and felt irrationally joyful when the smile was returned.
They were on the road heading out of the town's center and towards the outlying farms already. They fell into a companionable silence, until Clark realized he hadn't heard the rest of Whitney's story.
"Um, so what happened?" He really did want to know. He wanted to hear about something good that had happened that day. Something to tip the scales a bit so that he didn't have to feel like he had ruined yet another person's life just by his very existence upon the Earth.
"Oh, yeah, well, I ended up knocking down a mannequin and I got yelled at and sent up to my dad's office. It looks over the south end of Main Street. I had a good view of the parade. And I saw them - these massive balls of fire shooting through the sky. I thought they were great, like fireworks. I was too stupid to know better, I just thought it was cool, like in the movies or something." Whitney shook his head like an old man recounting his foolish, youthful indiscretions. His voice took on a faraway reflective quality.
"My dad came running through the door of the office. I was still hanging out the window looking at the meteors. I turned around and … he had the look on his face, I'd never seen it before. He looked scared – lost. He grabbed me and held me so tight I could barely breathe. He kept whispering 'Thank God, Thank God …' I don't remember much after that." Whitney stopped the truck and faced Clark squarely.
"My dad's hugged me three times in my entire life: the day my grandmother died, the day I learned I got the scholarship to Kansas State and the day of the meteor shower."
Clark was silent. He was constantly at a loss when it came to Whitney's extraordinary behavior towards him. He didn't know why he always pushed for these revelations. Or why Whitney always told him these things. Whitney must really feel a strong connection with him. Clark couldn't imagine being that open to someone. Hiding was second nature to him. At that moment he truly felt envious of Whitney.
"We're here." Whitney gestured at the Kent farm. Clark got out of the truck still mulling over the events of the day, trying to work out the new dynamic in his relationship to Whitney.
"Bye, Clark," Whitney started the motor again.
Clark started walking to the house, stopped, and turned back to the truck. He looked at his former nemesis and cleared his throat.
"Hey, Whitney, thanks for the ride … I'll see you around … sometime." Clark knew how it sounded and he didn't care. He wanted to, at the very least, get to know Whitney better, to explore this intriguing new development and its myriad possibilities.
Whitney smiled; his eyes seemed to light up. Clark felt that smile all the way down to his toes. He grinned back and watched as Whitney drove back towards town.