Title: MAIRZY DOATS (Nourishment 2.2)
Author: Janet F. Caires-Lesgold
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Archive: Mailing list archives only--others please ask permission!
Category: Vignette, PWP, romance, Lex POV - schmoop alert!
Spoilers: Takes place before "Heat"
Rating: NC-17 for m/m sexual interaction
Pairing: Clark/Lex established relationship
Summary: Things get hot in the loft
DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me. Smallville is the property of Alfred Gough, Miles Millar, Tollin-Robbins Productions, and Warner Bros. Television, and based upon characters originally created by Jerome Siegel and Joe Shuster. This story is just for the entertainment of my online friends and myself, not for any profit.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: The rest of "The Nourishment Series" can be found elsewhere on this archive - Enjoy!
DEDICATION: For Tiff, who sometimes gets surprises in her garage.
COPYRIGHT: (C) October 18, 2002, Janet F. Caires-Lesgold, firstname.lastname@example.org
Please don't redistribute or alter this story in any way without the express permission of the author. Thank you very much.
"It may sound queer and funny to your ear,
A little bit jumbled and jivey,
You say 'Mares eat oats, and does eat oats,
And little lambs eat ivy.'
"Mairzy doats and dozy doats,
And little lambzy divey,
A kiddly divey too, wouldn't you?"
"Mairzy Doats" by Jerry Livingston, Milton Drake, and Al Hoffman
Clark has hay in his hair.
He looks as blissfully happy as I believe it is humanly possible to look.
It makes me nearly that happy to realize that I made him look that way.
The temperature in Smallville, Kansas, this month has been truly brutal, causing me to spend all of my time in my air-conditioned office, or my air-conditioned car. Very little, if anything, can tempt me from my chilly caverns these days, except perhaps for a cryptic e-mail from Clark reading only, "I've got a surprise in the loft. Come over this afternoon." The colon and closing parenthesis after his single line of text make me a little suspicious, but I close my mailbox, straighten up the spreadsheets on my desk, and go anyway.
Besides, I'm leaving tomorrow for a business trip of two whole weeks. After a gorgeous summer of frequent outings, late nights, and constant loving attention from my darling boy, I owe it to him and to myself to respond to one more request before I face our forced separation. Bearing in mind the level of humidity and the grungy conditions of the loft, I make sure to change into some jeans, a lighter-weight shirt, and casual shoes before I leave.
The air practically hisses as I step out of my car onto the drive of the Kent Farm. Waving to Martha, who is taking laundry down from a clothesline, I make my way up to Clark's half of the hayloft, but find no Clark waiting there for me.
I start poking around the edge to the end of the barn where the hay is kept, and round the corner to a most marvelous sight. There, before a heap of scattered hay, his back to me and on his knees with his denim-shorts-clad ass high in the air, is Clark. However, before I get the chance to salivate very much at this picture, I hear his voice scolding, "Hey! C'mere, you!" He darts behind a hay bale, giving a triumphant, "Gotcha!" then pulls back and sits on his heels.
"Clark?" I call to him, announcing myself.
"Lex?" he answers, turning his head with a high-beam grin. "You made it! Cool!" Scuffling around, still on his knees, he moves to show me the bundle he holds in his arms. "Look!"
There, cuddled close to his bare stomach, is a kitten. Her eyes are open, and she seems content to snuggle against his warm, tan skin, so she's not quite a newborn. "You got a cat," I observe pointlessly.
"Cats," he corrects brightly. "My dad unloaded some hay out of here this morning, and we found where a mama cat had birthed her litter. It must have been a couple of weeks ago, but we just found them today. Isn't she cute?" He holds her out to me, so I move closer and pick her up gently under her belly.
The warm, striped thing mews worriedly at being wrested away from Clark, as would I, so I stroke her soft head and back to calm her. "How many are there?"
"Four, I think," he answers, ducking back near the wall in pursuit of another one. Correction: two, because he emerges with two similarly-marked creatures clutched in his broad hand, as their short legs sprawl out in the air and flex tiny needle claws. A laugh on his lips and his face tipped straight up, he hoists the kittens high in the air with one hand and brings them back down to touch noses with each of them in turn.
I take the opportunity to admire his outfit, or near lack of same. A glance back to his half of the loft reveals his shirt abandoned over the back of a chair, which explains why he's wearing nothing but a skintight pair of cutoff jeans and rubber flip flops. He'd be utterly adorable even without the feline handful, and hot as an oven even if it weren't about ninety degrees in the shade.
Sitting on the floor next to him, I tuck an arm under my fuzzy burden and skritch her velvet ears as she goes to work nipping at my fingertips. Her stiff tail relaxes against the inside of my elbow, and I make myself comfortable, too. "So, tell me, Clark: is this the only reason you summoned me over here today? Just to play with your foundlings?"
"Yeah," he replies, flopping back down on the spread hay and letting the kittens wander across his stomach. "That, and I remembered that this would be the last day you'd be here before school started. I wanted to see you before you left."
Setting my own cat down to join her brothers in the hay, I crawl over beside him and give him a small, sweet kiss. "You're going to miss me, huh?"
His eyes search mine almost sadly, as if he's memorizing me for later. "Of course, Lex. I love you, and we've had such a great summer together. I hate for it to be over..."
I can't deny a rush of regret in my own heart at the thought of leaving these halcyon days behind, but I hate wasting time longing for something that hasn't even ended yet. "It's only two weeks, Clark. Certainly you can live without me that long."
Bangs in need of scissors hide his expression from me as he scans his lap, even though it is kitten-free at the moment. "I don't know... You might go off, meet someone, and forget all about me..." At once his face is turned back to me, bearing its customary brilliant grin. "Gotcha!" he taunts, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
Before I can stop chuckling at his tease, he has grabbed my shoulders in his massive hands and pulled me down on top of him, capturing my mouth with his own. We kiss each other hard and deep for a long time, conversation falling by the wayside as we communicate much more directly. The barn holds heat this close to the roof, but I think we're making it that much hotter in here.
He reluctantly removes his tongue from my mouth, and hugs me tightly against his smooth, strong chest as we both gasp a little for breath. "Do you love me, Lex?" he whispers just over the buzzing sounds of a working farm on a summer day.
"Yes, Clark. I love you more than anything in this world, but I can't stay home from this trip. It's very important that I attend these meetings."
A very sly grin dances around his lips and engages his eyes prettily. "I know that, Lex, but that's not what I was gonna ask you."
I press another kiss against his perfect mouth and brave unknown territory. "Okay, I give up. What were you going to ask me?"
"Make me come," he breathes, taking my hand in his and holding it against the bulging zipper in his shorts. "Please?"
With my other hand, I brush his tousled hair away from his face and kiss his forehead tenderly. "When you look like that, how can I deny you anything?"
He shivers almost as if he's cold as I lift my fingers from the taut fabric of his pants and run them gradually down his chest to his stomach. I reach behind his head to position him closer for kissing at the same time as I release the shiny brass button at his waistband. My attention to his mouth is distracted when I lower his zipper pull and discover naked skin underneath--it must be too hot for him even to wear boxer shorts.
"You're so hard," I sigh, taking his heavy shaft in my hand. Slowly, I ease back the foreskin and slide my thumb through his slit, wetting my skin with pre-ejaculate that nearly scalds me. His eyes watch me, dark and almost sleepy, through lowered lashes, and his kiss-swollen lips hang slack, waiting for anything.
All I can do is look at him while I stroke his penis intently, as his hips thrust upward, pushing his length even harder into my hand. "Oh, God," he moans, along with an entirely unintelligible and undeniably arousing groan from deep in his throat. His fingers clench tightly on the loose hay on the floor of the loft, and his sculpted thighs spread apart for easier access.
I can feel his balls tighten below my fist, and sense that he is very close. Perhaps he needs a verbal nudge, so I whisper in my sultriest voice, "Are you going to come for me?"
"I can't," he nearly whines, strain evident in the tendons of his neck.
"Yes, you can," I reassure him calmly. "Just relax. C'mon, it'll feel good."
"Noooo--" he moans prettily, thrashing his head back and forth on the floor and almost crushing my hand beneath it. "I'm gonna... I wanna..." His words fail him and his voice ascends into a keening wail.
Very quietly, I say, "I love you, Clark. Do you love me?"
That does the trick. "Yessssss," he exhales, his cock pumping out creamy strands of hot liquid onto his stomach and all over my hand. His breath catches almost like a sob, but he grows still while I keep petting him to finish off his orgasm.
At last I pull my fingers free and lick off his cooling residue as I watch him pant in recovery. "Are you okay?" I ask.
He lies motionless, breathing hard, his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open. "Yeah--incredible..." he croaks out, using what's left of his strength. Although his sexy noises have turned me on, for the moment I am content to sit back and watch my lover compose himself, completely unguarded and beautiful.
Just then he lets out a yipe and jumps a little where he lies.
"Clark? What's wrong?"
Before I know what's happening, he dissolves into a fit of giggles. "Damn, that tickles!"
Together our eyes track after some motion at his waist, and we discover one of the kittens, curiously sniffing and licking at the puddle of come on his belly.
Snickering delightedly yet holding himself still so as not to disturb the small creature plying its little pink tongue on his flesh, he watches her, fascinated. "You don't suppose that'll hurt her, do you?"
"Doesn't hurt me any," I shrug, amused and besotted with the sight of my lover so happy before me.
Clark has hay in his hair. His face is flushed and split by a blinding smile. His shorts are lying open around his hips, and his spent cock lies limp and nearly forgotten in a pool of stickiness and sweat. He is the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen.
All I need at this moment is just to memorize the look of sheer, exquisite bliss on his face to take along with me. I figure it will keep me company on my upcoming journey--tomorrow, and for the rest of my life.
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