Title: Finger Food (Nourishment: Second Helpings 4)
Author: Janet F. Caires-Lesgold
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Archive: Mailing list archives only--others please ask permission!
Category: Romance, Clark POV
Spoilers: Moving beyond season 3 as it should have been done
Rating: Strong R for m/m sexual activity
Pairing: Clark/Lex established relationship
Summary: Sharing a snack
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 NOTE: "The Nourishment Series", which precedes this series, can be found elsewhere on this archive - Enjoy!
AUTHOR'S WARNING: Does this count as AU if I think the show as broadcast is AU, too? Don't expect much input from what's been shown after "Covenant", because it has little to do with the real story. Write me if you have any questions!
DEDICATION: For Tiff, who probably would prefer chocolate.
COPYRIGHT: (C) Janet F. Caires-Lesgold, March 4, 2005, email@example.com
Please don't redistribute or alter this story in any way without the express permission of the author. Thank you very much.
Lex is feeling much better this week. The first day or so when he came to live here after his hospitalization, I even had to carry him to the bathroom, and then he'd shake in my arms when I'd set his feet down on the floor. Now he can sort of shuffle across the hall in his slippers, though he hasn't braved the stairs just yet.
Mom and Dad don't mind it that I don't eat my meals with them these days. I've been carrying a tray upstairs for Lex and me, so he doesn't have to eat alone. If I'm hungry during the day, I make sure to offer him some, too, though he doesn't eat half the amount I do. (I can still make Mom cluck her tongue and sigh, "Just a growing boy..." when I eat twelve cookies between breakfast and lunch.)
Right now I'm just a little nibbly, and it's a couple of hours until dinner. Dad won't care if I take a break from my chores for a little while...
Snooping through the pantry, I find a half-full jar of peanut butter, which looks very appealing. I decide to forego crackers or bread and grab a couple of spoons instead, then head upstairs to check on my patient.
Lex isn't in my bedroom, but the bathroom door is closed, so I decide to settle in and wait for him. Sitting at my desk, I succumb to the draw of the peanut butter and, unscrewing the lid, dip out a hearty spoonful.
I am still licking the spoon when I hear slippers on the floor of the hall. "'llo," I slur around the creamy goodness at my returning roommate.
"Hey," he answers, shutting the door and watching me scoop out another glob. "Now that's sanitary," he snarks with a small smile as he settles back into bed.
"You want some? I brought you a spoon."
"Gimme that," he demands, holding out a hand. I offer the second spoon handle to him, but he waves it away. "Not that. That," he insists, pointing to the jar, which I hand over with a smirk.
"Have you washed your hands, Mister Luthor?" I scold.
"Have you turned into your father, Mister Kent?" he taunts back. He digs into the condiment with his index finger and pulls out a sticky dollop, ending with a flourish. "We outta bread?" he asks simply before sticking his finger deliberately and quite distractingly into his mouth.
All of my attention is immediately focused on his lips puckered around his finger, and I cannot help staring as my mind immediately transforms this image into something else. It's been so long since we touched each other sexually... We sleep in the same bed these days (made possible by the full-size frame and mattress set acquired after our adventures with the camp cot), but do nothing more than kiss and cuddle.
Partly I've held back due to Lex's compromised health, but I can't discount my fear that he might not want me that way anymore after our unfortunate falling-out. We've made our peace with each other, however tenuous, but there's so much more I need to tell him...
Meanwhile, he's having an awful lot of fun teasing me merely by sucking his finger in front of me, and I am pretty sure that he intends every filthy picture he's putting into my head. He swallows, smiles fondly at me, and says, "You can close your mouth now."
Embarrassed that he noticed, I do so, then decide that it's time to take the next step. Having abandoned my muddy boots at the back door, I climb up onto the bed and sit before him cross-legged in sock feet. Greedily, I take the jar out of his hands. "Save some for me," I demand, sweeping my finger into the smooth golden cream and placing the substance on my tongue as provocatively as I can. I observe his eyes, which watch me intently, the ideas flitting across his mind practically visible on his face.
With a wicked glint in his eye, he asks, "May I have some more?"
"Who are you? Oliver Twist?" I joke, trying to hand him the container.
To my surprise, he doesn't take it. Instead, he drops his hands and opens his mouth like a baby bird, though I doubt baby birds have the capacity to turn up the corners of their beaks mischievously like that.
I make a move to reach back to the desk for one of my neglected spoons, but Lex gives a nasal "Nuh-uh," tipping his chin toward my hands.
My mouth immediately goes dry, and my pulse rate doubles. I try to work up a swallow, but give up and square my shoulders in determination. With great ceremony, I insert my finger into the peanut butter and pull out a generous daub. Trying to sound casual, I ask, "You want this?"
"Uh-huh," he answers, his tongue protruding just a little, like an invitation.
Silently counting to three as I close my eyes to gather my strength, I catch his gaze again before extending my hand cautiously. Into his mouth goes my finger, and he closes his lips around it lightly. I can feel the tip of his tongue lick away the oily substance, and the back twitch as he swallows it down. His lips are soft and moist, and his teeth just graze my knuckle. I want to close my eyes again, but can't because he is watching me closely with a twinkle in his eye that seems to say, "I know that this is getting you hard."
My original plan of sharing a snack has shifted and expanded beyond my wildest dreams, giving me hope that maybe Lex is ready to go further than we have for months. He uses his teeth to scrape my fingertip clean, then releases me, leaving me panting and my cock aching. "You need some more?" I suggest, reaching again for the jar.
He grabs my wrist to stop me, staring at me as if he'd like to eat me whole. "I think I've had enough for the moment," he asserts quietly, "but you look like you're still pretty hungry."
Before I can agree with his statement, he has taken the vessel in his right hand. He makes sure that I'm watching, then plunges each of the fingers of his left hand in turn into the paste, finishing with his thumb. A quick regretful glance at the middle of his palm, and he sets aside the jar and gives me his hand gingerly so he doesn't smear the stuff on the sheets or our clothes.
It takes me a moment to process where we're going with this: that, since he is well aware of the effect he has had on me, he apparently wants me to do the same to him, and more. This thought thrills me and grounds me at the same time, so I promise myself that I'll make it as good for him as I can.
Holding his wrist easily with my forefinger and thumb, I turn his hand this way and that to determine the best angle of attack. I make a decision, and lift his pinky finger to my mouth. After licking off the peanut butter gradually, I suck off the last of the residue, pressing my tongue warmly against the pad and into each crease of skin.
His ring finger is next, and I run my tongue around the base of it, tracing the line that a wedding ring once graced. The skin is soft but tough as I wet down every inch of the digit before removing the nutty treat at the tip. My eyes dart up to his face, which is pale and luminous as he breathes roughly through his parted lips.
Varying my technique, I slide the whole of his middle finger into my mouth at once. I suck firmly at it, imagining that it is his cock, letting the sweetness and saltiness of the butter slide neatly down my throat. Careful not to hurt him, I scrape my teeth along his surface as I draw the finger out again.
Three down, and two to go. This time, I let my tongue spiral from where his finger meets his hand, ending with the flavor at its tip, which is now almost incidental to the taste of my boyfriend's flesh. Lex's eyes are closed, but I can tell from his tiny vocalizations that he is far from asleep.
I coax a genuine moan from him with the slurp I give to his thumb. It's delicious how perfectly it fits inside my mouth, the swelling of its pad nestling cozily into the hot, wet cushion of my tongue, which wraps around its edges almost protectively. My own thumb is poised over the pulse in Lex's wrist, which flutters in a way that would be alarming if it weren't the very effect I had tried to provoke.
It only takes a second for me to decide how to finish this foreplay, because that's exactly what it is. I lift his palm reverently toward my face, placing a wet, pulsing tongue kiss into the middle of it, treating it like a shallow, dry mouth. Pulling away at last, I grasp his hand tightly in my own and raise my head to see what I've done to my lover.
His eyes are still closed, his upper lip shiny with perspiration and his cheeks flushed in arousal. Slowly, he seems to realize that I have stopped worshiping his hand, and he blinks at me as if he is waking from a drugged sleep.
"You okay?" I ask quietly, not wanting to spoil this moment.
"Oh, God, Clark," he pants with a swallow and a pained smile. "Bring me off before I explode."
In an instant, I am beside him, clutching his shoulders tight. We kiss, messy and probing and urgent, as I unbutton the fly of his pajama pants and move his shirttail out of the way. He whimpers when I take his cock in hand, breaking away from my mouth to nuzzle hotly into my neck.
I take care to be gentle as I jerk him off, for if I were to touch him like I want to do to myself right now, I would rub him raw. Shushing him softly, I murmur how much I love him as I yank him in my fist, feeling his heat rise under my fingertips.
With a gasp and a desperate groan, he shoots his load all over my hand. I still my movements and hold him close while he rides out the sensation. His shoulders shake a little, so I rub the arm under my other hand comfortingly and kiss the top of his head, silently giving my lover whatever strength he needs.
Attributing his long recovery time to his weakened condition, I let Lex cuddle up to me for as long as he likes, figuring I'll take care of myself eventually. Finally, he readjusts his position and sits upright again. "Was that good?" I ask, ignoring the spot on my shirt that is damper than his breath could have caused and reaching for the box of tissues on my desk.
"Fantastic," he asserts, a guilty smile gracing his features as he cleans himself up, then dabs quickly at his eyes with a fresh tissue. "Thank you, baby," he sighs, diving in for a warm, sweet kiss. "I love you so much."
For the time being, I content myself with being kissed. When we break for air, I confirm, "That wasn't too much for you, was it?"
"Not at all. In fact, I think it was just what the doctor ordered," he assures me with a grin. "That should tide me over until dinner. What time should I be downstairs?"
I can barely contain my glee as I hug him tight.
Lex is obviously feeling much better. I wish that helping people could always be this much fun...
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