FIC: Smallville - Touch Therapy

[fajrdrako_fic]

Title: Touch Therapy
Author: fajrdrako
Fandom: Smallville
Genre: Slash
Characters: Clark/Lex
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine, no claims, all property of Warner/DC.
Notes: Originally posted at The Smallville Slash Archives. With thanks to my beta readers, acampbell, walkingowl, and gem225, whose help is greatly appreciated.


Touch Therapy

Clark had missed the school bus so often that he more or less stopped thinking about taking it. There's been a time he'd felt it necessary, just to appear normal. Now he felt it was worth taking a chance or two. He was careful to never be late for class, since he knew Mr. Reynolds kept an eagle eye on him, ready to swoop down on any transgression. Sometimes he arrived at school right on the dot of nine, but never later.

When he didn't take the bus, he was free to go anywhere he wanted at his own speed. No one could pretend Luthor Manor was between the Kent Farm and Smallville High School, but as long as no one was watching, he could go there and see Lex briefly before school and still get to class on time. Lex had made it clear that Clark was free to drop in whenever he wanted. Since Lex hadn't recently been able to drop by the Talon in the mornings, Clark thought he might as well drop by the Manor for his morning coffee. It wasn't anything he'd ever done before, but Lex wouldn't mind. If he didn't see Lex in the morning, that meant he had to wait till school was over and chores had been done - even at superspeed, they took a while - and that was a long time to wait.

Besides, he knew Lex liked company with his coffee. It helped him get up the energy to face a new day.

He hoped Lex wouldn't still be in bed, or that no one would think it weird that he was there at seven-thirty a.m., but that didn't matter as long as Lex didn't mind. He cared increasingly little these days for what other people thought. His father wanted him to end the friendship, and the more Clark saw of Lex, the more worried his father looked. He thought they were getting too close. His mother - well, she was more cool. She encouraged him to hang out with Chloe and Pete when they were working on the Torch, and she liked it when Lana visited. But she never said anything bad about Lex.

Were he and Lex getting too close? Clark wasn't sure what that meant. It didn't even make sense. Lex's company was sort of addictive, but in a good way. He felt closer to Lex than he'd ever felt to anyone, even Pete. It was almost as if Lex were another alien like him - not from a different planet, but from a different world. He understood things that no one else ever even thought about. Sometimes Clark just wanted to touch him for no reason, to get closer. He couldn't explain it, but it was there, like the clothes he wore and the air he breathed.

He didn't touch Lex much, though. Lex wasn't a touching kind of person. It was just as well, because sometimes thoughts of touch could get mixed up with thoughts of sex, and Clark wasn't sure what he thought of that. Especially with regards to Lex, who obviously had a lot of sexual experience but didn't seem to want to talk about it, at least with Clark. That was weird, because he talked about everything else, and he wasn't shy. Once Clark had asked him directly: "You know a lot about sex, don't you?"

Lex had laughed and answered "Too much!" and changed the subject. Since he would talk about any other subject on earth (except his father) Clark wasn't sure why. Maybe he was ashamed of stuff he'd done back in Metropolis, back in his drugs-andalcohol phase. That made Clark wonder what exactly what it was Lex had done. The visual images that conjured up made him blush, but that didn't stop him from dwelling on them. Thinking about Lex in that way was exciting. Not that he'd tell his father about that. Would he tell Lex? Maybe. If he ever got up the nerve. He didn't think Lex would mind, exactly. He'd be more likely to laugh, and didn't want Lex to think his thoughts about him were funny.

He didn't think Lex had big regrets about things he'd done. It wasn't like Lex to be ashamed of things.

Maybe he thought Clark was just a kid, which wasn't true, though the gulf of difference in their experience of life made Clark feel like a kid sometimes. That just increased his fascination.

This morning, Lex was in his office, but Lex was not alone. Lex was lying on his stomach on a portable massage table in the middle of the room. A large, dark-haired woman was kneading his back, her hands glistening with oil. Except for a towel draped over his buttocks, Lex appeared to be naked.

A naked Lex at seven in the morning. Under a purple towel. A rather small purple towel. It probably had the LL monogram on it. Clark stood in the doorway, his breath caught in his throat. He supposed he should leave but he couldn't make himself move. He'd known Lex liked to get a massage in the morning - he'd said something about how it helped him to keep his head, later, when things got tense. Clark just hadn't expected to see it. Here. Now. Like this.

At first he thought Lex was asleep, or hadn't noticed him come in, but Lex opened his eyes and said, "Hi, Clark. Come on in." He sounded relaxed.

"I don't mean to bother you," said Clark, closing the door behind him. There was music, something old or maybe New Age, with a low rhythm. It might be Tibetan or something. There was something odd about the room's lighting too: in fact, the lights weren't on at all, and the warm light, patched yellow and scarlet, was coming from the windows as the morning sunlight shone through. A bottle of Ty Nant within Lex's reach added a touch of blue to the light-strewn colours across the floor and across his skin.

"No bother, Clark. You're always welcome. Paola, would you leave us, please?"

"You don't want the rest of your massage, Mr. Luthor?"

Lex favored her with a charming smile over his shoulder. "No, that's fine. You can leave early today."

"Till tomorrow, then, Mr. Luthor."

She disappeared through the doors, leaving her towels and oils behind. Lex didn't move, except to prop his chin on his hands so he could look at Clark. "Good morning."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your massage," said Clark. He walked closer to the table. The oil smelled faintly of lemon. Lex's skin smelled faintly of lemon too, and gleamed a little under the gentle light. Clark knew the skin would feel warm and soft under his hands, if he dared to touch it. Did he dare? Lex was spread on the table like an invitation. "You weren't finished."

"Not a problem, Clark. You want some breakfast? Or," his teasing glance was sheer mischief, "Do you want to finish my massage? How are you at Anma? Lomilomi? Full body rubs? Shiatsu? Swedish massage?"

"I learned a little about massage from a book," said Clark. "I could do it." He wondered if Lex knew the full effects of his teasing, and if he did, if he would still be teasing. He could never tell with Lex. After all, Lex Luthor could have anyone he wanted for a massage or sex or anything else, and not just because he was rich. He could charm anyone into his bed. He'd hardly be likely to waste his time with Clark.

On the other hand, they were friends, and this wasn't about sex however much Clark's mind tried to push it there.

The sight of the pale, gleaming skin, touched by sunlight and oil, made it difficult to think at all.

"What was the book? 'Massage for Dummies'?"

"Yeah. It was really good, Lex. Dad was having trouble with sore muscles, and I thought massage might help. It showed a lot of techniques."

"Techniques?" Lex put his head back down, his mouth curving.

You'd think it was a funny word. "Yeah."

"Okay, show me." It was a challenge.

"Really?"

"Show me what you can do. Paola's gone, so if I'm going to get my massage this morning, it'll have to be from you."

Clark moved a little closer. Lex really did seem to mean it. The challenge to touch all that exposed smooth skin made Clark's breath come a little faster. If Lex knew what Clark was thinking, he probably wouldn't have said any of that.

Or maybe he would have.

It was a chance to touch Lex Luthor, who was practically untouchable- except when he chose otherwise. Not that he had ever seemed to mind being touched by Clark, and Clark wasn't sure what that meant, either.

Clark took off his flannel shirt because it would be easier to do this in his T-shirt, and Lex really did seem to want him to do it. So far he'd only practiced on his parents and on Pete, and they'd thought it was great, but two of the three had never had a massage before, and for his mother, it had been a long time. It wasn't as if he was experienced and trained like Paola, who had probably studied in Germany or somewhere, at some spa with a long name where movie stars stayed.

"Clark?" said Lex, his voice a little muffled.

"Just warming up," said Clark, rubbing oil on his hands, rubbing the palms together. He'd have to be really careful about this because if Lex knew it was turning him on just to think about touching his oiled, muscular back, he'd probably lose all those access privileges like being allowed right into the office and massage parlor at breakfast time. Or any other time.

He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the instructions in the book.

Then he touched Lex's back.

He started with effleurage, the light strokes, getting the feel of Lex's body. The skin was as warm and fine and smooth as he'd always imagined. Add the faint scent of warm oil; a texture like glistening satin. The skin was spread softly over hard muscle, proving what Clark had always known: that though Lex spent his days at meetings and at a desk, he found time to keep those muscles honed.

His fingers found the spots he had memorized in the book. Longitudinal friction. Concentrating, Clark began to work in more depth. Since Lex's back was turning him on, it seemed a good idea to switch to a less distracting body part.

He took Lex's right hand from where it lay lax by his head, and began to work the muscles, noticing the gracefulness of the long bones, the strong but slender knuckles, the fingers which were far stronger than they looked. The nails were nicely manicured, but there were splotches of ink on the index finger. Clark thought idly about kissing those marks.

Wrong thought. His cock was still getting hard. Not good.

Okay, so it was good, but it wasn't appropriate. Wrong place, wrong time.... Whether Lex was the wrong person was something he hadn't quite worked out yet. His father would say so. His mom usually said that things weren't always as they appeared at first, which meant - well, he wasn't sure what it meant in this case, but it didn't mean it was inherently bad that Lex got to him even more than Lana ever had. And Lex didn't need to do anything to do it, either. Lying there was more than enough.

Naked, under a towel.

So what? Everyone was always naked under their clothes.

The thought did nothing to calm Clark down.

Concentrate. He worked on the left hand, focusing on remembering the names of the muscles and bones as he went. Wrists. Forearms. Lex made a gentle noise with his breath. It seemed to be a noise of pleasure. It made Clark's cock jump as if something like real sex was happening, which was stupid, because this was nothing like sex, and his body had just better get used to that idea. Thank goodness Lex, his eyes shut, his head down, had no idea.

His upper arms. Shoulders. Better shoulders than Pete or Whitney'd ever had, for all the football. His back: smooth and lustrous, the skin looked unspoiled and somehow fresh. Dorsal muscles eased into relaxation under his fingers. Lex didn't move, but he wasn't asleep.

It gave Clark a sense of power to have Lex so malleable under his hands. But having a sense of power, of using that sense of power, was something he always had to guard against. Wasn't it?

Clark worked his way down to the waist. Clark wanted to rub his face on the skin too, which was a dumb idea. As far as Lex was concerned, Clark was there to give a professional massage exactly like that woman Paola would do. No hot, steamy, thoughts. No. But his work had brought him to the edge of the towel, so what did he do now?

He couldn't remember what the book said about towels. He did remember what it said about the gluteus maximus, how those muscles held tension and were important to massage. Important to the subject's well-being.

Helplessly, he avoided the subject altogether and went for the feet, sliding his palms down Lex's legs to get there, to avoid losing contact with the body.

Lex's feet were long-boned like his hands, and larger than he'd expected. Strong ankles, very strong ankles, and calf muscles like a runner. Sensitive knees - Lex jumped as if tickled, and Clark muttered, "Sorry," wishing he didn't find that so intriguing. He memorized the spot so he could remember it later in his fantasies. He thought of putting his tongue in the little crease at the back of Lex's knee and the idea didn't seem quite as absurd as it ought to.

Maybe these thoughts were okay as long as Lex didn't know about them. What would it matter what anyone else thought? He was pretty sure his father wouldn't think it was proper for him to be giving Lex this massage at all. What was wrong with it? He'd done it for Pete, hadn't he? Okay, when it was Pete, he'd had an easier time concentrating on what the book said, and Pete had his clothes on, and kept talking and school. There's been no lustful thoughts getting in the way, like they were doing now. That was what made it improper. Not that his father would know that. His father disapproved of the whole friendship. What difference would a massage make?

Lex's thigh was as strong as the calf, impossibly smooth, though there was an endearing freckle about three quarters of the way up, and then there was the edge of that towel again. Purple, and, yes, monogrammed with the characteristic overlapping L.L. Clark bit his lip, wondering what to do.

"Clark?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened? You stopped." Lex sounded sleepy, but it was really just relaxation. Clark had never quite realized how sexy his voice sounded when he was relaxed.

"Yeah, well, I got to your towel."

"It's removable, Clark."

"What?" Clark couldn't process the thought. His brain, like his body, had turned to stone.

Lex simply reached behind his own back, and threw the towel onto the floor. Naked Lex. "Problem solved," he said. "No towel." He hadn't bothered to open his eyes.

Clark thought his eyes might never close again. He swallowed. Luckily his heat vision never happened spontaneously any more - at least, not since that time with the barn - Lex was safe.

But my God! thought Clark wildly, I'm not.

"Clark?"

"Just getting more oil," Clark muttered. To prove it, he put a little more on his fingers, warmed them by rubbing palm to palm, then spread his fingers over Lex's back.

Clark feared he was going to combust.

He should never have started this. He hadn't the self control. It was all he could do not to jump on Lex, to devour him, to cover him with kisses, to lick the oil off his skin, to -

No. He was under control. He was calmly, competently, professionally massaging his best friend and even the formidable Paola couldn't have done a better job. Though she probably wouldn't have an erection. On the other hand, how could she do this and not have improper thoughts about her employer? Wanting to suck on that little crease on his shoulder, for example, where his arm was raised on the table beside him.

Clark's hands moved down to Lex's buttocks. See, he could do this. Lex needed it, too. There was a lot of tension in this area. He tried kneading and petrissage but every time he looked at what he was doing he lost a little bit of his concentration.

It was the most perfect ass he had ever seen.

Of course, it would still be perfect even if it wasn't, because it was Lex's, and there was something about Lex's body that just burned out Clark's brain cells.

Lex made a sound that was a little like purring.

Clark stepped back.

"Clark?"

"I can't."

"Why not? It was good."

"I . . . I wasn't doing it right."

"Yes, you were."

He could hardly argue the point without explaining what was wrong. "I have to go to school," he said, and the sudden disappointment in the line of Lex's shoulders made him instantly sorry he'd said it.

Lex was smooth as always. "Okay. See you later, then."

"I can finish you off first," said Clark. He hadn't meant to say it, but he couldn't help it. He just couldn't leave.

Lex moved his head to glance at Clark over his shoulder. He moved slowly, because he was so relaxed, and his eyes were half closed, which was a sexy look on him. "Yeah?" He stretched a little, as if needing to get more comfortable on the table. His heels had fallen apart outwards and his thighs were just a little spread.

Clark put his hands on Lex's ass again. He could see a faint pinkness of warmth in the area he'd already massaged. He could see Lex's balls because Lex's legs were apart now and Lex just looked better all the time. The music, so unobtrusive, now seemed sensuous and suggestive.

Clark had lost his rhythm, along with his ability to think. He was at a loss. He couldn't remember the massage book or anything in it. All his life he'd had a photographic memory and now he couldn't even remember the title. He didn't really care, with Lex's skin under his hands the way he'd always wanted it and Lex lying right there in front of him.

He took a deep breath, his hands, motionless, resting beside the small of Lex's back.

"Clark?" said Lex again. This time, his voice was low.

"I can't," said Clark, almost panicking. And then: "Can I?"

Lex moved one leg, bending his knee a little. This spread his legs further, changed the angle of his cheeks. If Clark's cock hadn't already been aching, it would have started now. "You can do anything you want," said Lex.

It was the voice of temptation, but it was speaking the truth.

Clark took a deep breath. Without moving his hands he bent over and kissed the small of Lex's back. The skin was as warm and soft as it had felt to his hands. He sucked a little, letting tongue and teeth trace the muscle downward, tasting the skin.

Lex made a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper.

He didn't move away. He didn't say 'stop'. He didn't ask Clark what he thought he was doing. Nobody could pretend this was massage. It wasn't out of a book. It was just Clark exploring a few instincts.

Clark had never felt anything so good as Lex's skin against his face, or the taste of it on his tongue. He burrowed his chin between Lex's legs and moved his tongue against his balls. There was no oil here, the taste was sheer Lex. He licked, feeling the skin moving against the vacuum of his mouth, in and out. He sucked. Lex's breath was erratic. Clark could feel the muscles in his thighs quivering, which felt good against his chest and shoulders.

He tongued the hairless skin, moving upwards. This was like finding some secret, forbidden place, and being allowed to go in, and stay there. Lex didn't stop him, his breath heavy now. Clark used his hands to gently spread Lex's ass and there was the hole, and he couldn't help touching that with his tongue too, just to see what it would feel like, and what it would taste like. The touch made Lex groan and Clark liked the sound. Just a small muscle, a sensitive bit of flesh, and he could tell by the increasing sound of Lex's breathing - voiced now, harder now - roughly what the touch was doing to him.

Clark liked that, so he pressed his tongue harder, and felt the soft skin give in a way he hadn't expected. He whimpered himself, and Lex must have felt the vibrations and the breath because he made a little jerky movement and a harsh sound. Clark pressed again, experimenting, getting lost in sensory discovery.

Without moving his mouth away, Clark reached under Lex's leg to find his cock with his hand. It was hot and hard and he held it tightly. Lex whispered "Fuck, yes!" and pressed back against him, but could hardly move: Clark was keeping him down with the weight of his shoulders against the backs of his thighs.

Clark lifted his head enough to speak, but kept his face against Lex's butt. "Shh," he whispered. "Don't move. I'll do the moving." His breath against Lex's sphincter made Lex tremble and he moved his hand again on Lex's cock, changing the rhythm, concentrating on tongue and hand. Lex's cock was smooth and hard and felt like polished stone, but warm with its own pulse. The tip was soft and wetter than the amount of oil he had used should allow. Clark moved his hand more quickly, maybe more quickly than he ought to, but with the slick wetness and the noises Lex was making he couldn't resist. He moved his lips and tongue on Lex's ass and Lex climaxed with a cry, jerking under his hand.

For a moment afterwards, Clark held him, an embrace around the hips, resting his head on Lex's buttocks. His hand was sticky on Lex's shrinking cock and he pulled it off carefully.

Lex's head was still down and he hadn't said anything. Clark said tentatively, "Lex?" He wondered if he ought to apologize. He was too hard to think properly. He was too hard to think at all.

"That's it," said Lex firmly, his voice muffled because his head was still down in the headrest. He lifted his head marginally so Clark could hear him. "I'm going to fire Paola tomorrow. I'll never be able to settle for her backrubs after this."

Clark looked down at Lex's loose body. Naked, his head turned a little to the side, his eyes half-shut, there was something sweetly vulnerable about Lex. All his defenses were lulled into hiding, all his pretenses fallen aside. It made Clark's heart twist with feeling. This was a Lex no one ever saw.

Clark had just molested his best friend and his cock was still hard and aching from it. He started to move away, but Lex's hand snaked out and grabbed Clark by the arm. "Where are you going?" He lifted his head more fully.

"I have to wash," mumbled Clark.

His half-shut eyes holding Clark's gaze, Lex brought Clark's hand to his mouth and began to lazily lick it clean. Warm, mobile tongue caressed palm and mound and the tip of his thumb. Clark wondered if it were possible to faint from arousal.

"You aren't finished," said Lex, his mouth against Clark's thumb.

"No?" Clark didn't know what Lex meant. His thoughts no longer existed. If he had ever had thoughts, they were washed away in the sensuous haze of Lex's body spread before him and Lex's lazy voice and the smell and taste of Lex still on him, mixed with lemon oil.

"We aren't finished. No. Not by a long shot. C'mere. A little closer. Yeah." He reached out his other hand and smartly unfastened Clark's belt, unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped his fly. He did it one-handed and quickly. Then Clark's cock was in his hand, and Lex's fingers played with it: stroking, rubbing, soothing back the foreskin, smearing the wetness from the tip where a finger stroked the slit.

Lex looked up at his face. "So fucking beautiful," he murmured and then, tugging gently, "Come a little closer. Yeah, that's it." And then Clark's cock was in his mouth and he was sucking.

He knew - how did he know? - exactly how to do this. Clark had always admired Lex's brain but his tongue was the real genius. When Clark climaxed he had to lean his hands on the edge of the table for support, and Lex didn't miss a beat. He swallowed until there was nothing more to swallow, and sucked - more gently now - until Clark pulled away.

"I have to go," said Clark. He didn't look at Lex. He knew if he looked at him again he'd never leave this room again and they'd expel him from school or something. He tried to put his cock back into his pants but his hands wouldn't work. Lex helped, gently.

"You'll come back?" asked Lex. He still looked relaxed and lazy but there was something more in his voice, an undercurrent that made the hair stand up on Clark's nape with hope and excitement and fear.

"Yeah, but I have to run, if I'm late for school Reynolds will have my ass."

"Tell him it's mine."

Clark was almost out the door. He remembered to grab his shirt, his books, on the way. He knew the scent of lemon oil and Lex would be with him all day. It wouldn't matter how often he might wash. Lex was indelible and unforgettable.

"Clark?"

"Yeah?"

"Come back as soon as you can." A knowing smile curved the side of Lex's mouth and an edge of uncertainty. Did Lex think Clark would just run away after this? Maybe he did.

"Yeah. Okay. After school?"

Lex nodded.

Clark grinned. He couldn't help himself; he ran back across the room and kissed Lex's mouth. Lex's mouth was warm and soft and hungry and tasted of mysteries and need and Clark wanted to explore it all.

"Later," Clark called behind him, but his voice was lost in the wind and he speeded through the cornfields on the quickest angle towards Smallville High.
- end -