Title: Welcome to the Family
Pairing: Clark/Lex, Lex/Lana
Rating: Adult, NC-17
Length: 1937 words
Spoilers: future fic, post S6, no unaired spoilers
Warnings: slash, drunkenness, adultery, possible incest by engagement
Disclaimer: Not mine, seriously. All belongs to Al & Miles, WB/CW and DC Comics.
Summary: Lionel and Martha decide to make it official. Lex gets drunk.
Lex looked at him coolly, glass of scotch in hand, as he entered the mansion den.
"Just put them over there," he said, pointing towards the corner with his glass. "Lana will arrange them later." Lex turned away, towards the window, dismissive.
Clark put down the large box of Kent Farm white lilies as directed. He stared at them for a while. In less than twenty-four hours the room would be strewn with them and wedding guests. His mom and Lex's dad. For all his powers, that was one disaster he couldn't prevent. And believe him, he'd tried.
"If you're waiting for a tip, I'm afraid that I don't have any small bills on me," Lex said.
Clark turned around, watched Lex down the last of his scotch and wander over to the liquor stand to pour himself another one. Each step so careful, controlled. God, he was wasted.
"We missed you at the rehearsal dinner, Lex," Clark said, not moving from the corner.
Lex turned, careful again, swirled his glass just so. "I have to host the travesty tomorrow. I'm saving all my goodwill for that." He took a sip and smiled. "Besides, I sent my wife. She's allowed to represent me." Leaning his head slightly, he said. "Wasn't she absolutely stunning this evening?"
Clark closed his eyes briefly. Yes, Lana had been beautiful and coolly gracious, absolutely dripping in understated Dior. Or Versace. Something European and agreeable to Lex. The two made quite a pair. Clark hardly recognized her anymore. He also decided that the question was rhetorical and didn't reply.
Lex raised his glass. "A toast then. Welcome to the family!" He tossed the whole thing back, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Now get out."
Something irritated Clark beyond Lex's usual abuse, and then it hit him. What had been missing. "I have a name, Lex," he said and moved towards the door.
Lex poured himself another and then one more. Jesus, he must be aiming for comatose. Maybe he planned to be hospitalized during the ceremony. Clark, at the moment, envied him that option, but Martha had already told him in no uncertain terms that she wouldn't accept anything short of a worldwide catastrophe as an excuse for his absence.
Maybe that's why Lex's current binge irritated him so much. He'd half-hoped that Lex had some nefarious plan for a national coup the next day, something that only Superman could prevent. Lex never did anything nice for him anymore. What were enemies for anyway?
"Clark," Lex said, voice softening from the trademark Luthor clip. "Stay. Have a drink with me." He extended his arm and offered the other glass.
Confused, Clark blinked and stood there. Lex knew perfectly well that alcohol couldn't affect him. If he took the drink, they would fall into their old game. And ever since Superman had first alighted on the LuthorCorp rooftop and pulled Lex out of his escape helicopter, he knew that Lex knew. Lex knew everything. Lex had also pointed and laughed for a good ten minutes until tears poured down his face. Which must have been hard to do since Clark, or rather Superman, had him hoisted two feet off the ground by the collar.
"Oh just sit your alien ass down and have a drink, Clark." Lex sat down on the leather couch and patted the cushion next to him. Dribbles of scotch made an escape path towards the floor. "Oops," Lex said softly. And then giggled. Very un-Luthorlike. Clark felt tiny beads of panic dance across his skin.
Grabbing a bar towel, he wiped down the cushion and sat down next to Lex, rescued his offered drink.
"Good boy," Lex said, beaming, and patted Clark's knee. "Drink up." Leaning back and sighing, he said, "Christ, we both need it."
Clark sighed as well and took a sip. And winced. Nasty stuff. How Lex could treat it like liquid gold was beyond him. He tried another. Nope. Still bad. "You know I can't get drunk," he said, almost apologetic. "This is kind of pointless." He also noticed that Lex's hand hadn't left his leg. In fact, it had wandered a little north of his knee and was well into thigh stroking territory by now. He shifted a little, uncomfortable, not wanting to be impolite since Lex's mouth, at least, had wandered into civil territory.
"So you admit it," Lex said, facing Clark, hand still absently stroking his thigh. "After all these years, we can finally stop bullshitting each other." Relief seemed to shiver through him. "All these names, I never know what to call you – Clark, Kal-El, Superman..." He laughed. "...butcher, baker, candlestick maker."
Clark leaned over, put his half-empty glass on the coffee table. Lex's hand tensed as if to hold him place, keep him from rising. He sat back. "Clark's fine, Lex. As long as I'm not wearing the suit."
He expected Lex to laugh again since that was his usual reaction to the Superman outfit. Either that, or a disdainful sneer.
"Are you wearing it now?" Lex said, breath suddenly close, his hand rising up from his thigh, pulling up Clark's shirt. "Oooh," he whispered as that hand reached beneath to touch Clark's skin. "You're naked underneath."
Lex tongue. Lex tongue on his neck. "Hey," Clark said, shifting away from that tongue. "Lex, stop, come on." Should push him away, should...
Lex pressed forward, following, his lips finding Clark's ear. "Such a fucking little cocktease, prancing around in spandex, trying to throw me off my game, get me hard." By that point, Clark found himself pressed all the way back into the couch on his back, Lex above him, straddling and grinding. "Jerking off all the fucking time until I can't even see straight. Is that your plan, hero?"
Clark put a hand on Lex's shoulder, gentle, didn't want to hurt him. "Lex, you're wasted, you don't want to do this. Really. You'll hate yourself in the morning."
Lex pulled away slightly, set his drink carefully on the floor. "I always hate myself in the morning," he said. "Give me something to hate myself for." He smiled, wistful and longing, eyes blue with lust...and Jesus, something more.
What was Clark supposed to do? He was only human -- no, alien -- after all. His dick could only take so much. And if Lex claimed that he was the cocktease, well, Clark had a few examples the other way he could throw at him. Takes two to tango or, you know, whatever.
"No more bullshit, Clark," Lex said as he leaned back down, mouth on his neck again. "No more..."
"Lex, we can't..." he started to say. But he couldn't finish because, well, Lex's tongue was in his mouth. And wow, so so wrong but Clark wasn't so much with the stopping. If you can't beat them, join them, so he relented and wow, so so good. He'd much rather take Lex's scotch this way, thank you very much.
"Anything, Clark," Lex said, his hands unbuttoning, um, both of their shirts. And Clark should be with the helping since he left stop and passed go a few minutes ago. "Anything." But Clark could only look up, helpless, at the sight of Lex stripping his shirt away and oh yeah, did he still work out. He ran his hand up Lex's abs towards his chest.
"This is so messed up, Lex," he said. There must be something more he should say, but his dick was screaming at him to shut the fuck up and just keep moving his hips. "God..." he hissed as Lex undid his belt and then Clark's and threw them both on the floor, tipping over Lex's glass. "Just..."
"Just this, Clark." Lex somehow slithered out of his shoes and slacks and naked and fuck, somehow magic hands got Clark naked too. Clark mentally added that to the list of Lex's mutant powers. Lex lowered himself back onto Clark and just rubbed and yeah, nice.
"We can do anything, Clark. Feel so good...oh fuck, do that," Lex whimpered. Yes, whimpered as Clark's hands grabbed Lex's ass and got a rhythm going.
Just back and forth and yes, guy and weird, but Lex so not so much with the weird as much with the inevitable and finally and no stopping now. Balls tightening, he said, "Lex...going to..." And Lex jerked, stiffened, and beat him to it with a "Clark, Clark, Jesus..."
And they literally crashed back down. Must have been a foot in the air, at least. "Sorry," he said. "Sorry..."
Lex petted him, kissed and shushed him. "No, it's fine, Clark. Just..." And he reached for Clark's hands, wrapped them around himself and sighed. A good sigh, a sleepy sigh.
"We need..." Clark said, attempting to rise.
"This is what we need," he said, nestling and closing his eyes. So Clark held him for a while. He'd get up in a few minutes, just a few more minutes, just a few...
"In our house, Lex? In our house?!?" Lana. Oh my God. "And with him, of all people."
Clark scrambled up, pushed Lex away. "Lana, look, it's all my fault..."
Lana, still dripping in Dior, perfect, merely crossed her arms in front of her. "Clark, I have eyes. Looks to me like Lex was on top so don't lie for him. I won't stand for it."
Oh God, Lana, and he was naked and had sticky, dried come all over him. "I'm sorry," he said, looking down.
Lex stood, or reeled, depending on how he looked at it. Not happy and still drunk. "I'm not even going to try to explain."
"What?" Lana and Clark said together, agreeing on something for once.
Lex merely smiled. "He's family now. Get used to it."
"I...I'm going up to my room," Lana said, nose crinkling and looking away. She turned and went out the door. Clark could hear her high heels methodically ascending the stairs.
He turned on Lex. "How could you say that to her?! She's your wife! What we did was wrong." Lex merely raised an eyebrow and that just pissed him off more. But then he paused, rewound the last few horrible minutes. "Wait, she said 'my' room..."
"Yes, Clark, we have separate rooms."
"But when do you...?"
"Very rarely, Clark. Does that satisfy you?"
No. This was still all kinds of wrong. But his dick still disagreed with him, raising itself in protest. "I should go home," he finally said.
"Yes, Clark, that would be best." Lex picked up some of Clark's clothes and handed them to him.
Clark dressed in silence, berating himself for everything. But Lex must have read his mind or something because he said, "Clark, just stop, we'll figure something out."
He couldn't look at him. He just felt sticky and gross and like he could never put on his outfit and look anyone in the eye again. Maybe that's what Lex wanted. Maybe...
Lex lifted up his chin. "Hey, no more bullshit, remember?" And he kissed him, soft and deep. "See you tomorrow."
Oh God, tomorrow with the wedding and his mom and Lionel and just...no.
Lex kissed him again. "I need you to be there, Clark. No excuses."
"Okay," he said. Being responsible and living with consequences sucked.
Lex tipped his forehead to Clark's. "Christ, I want you to stay, but appearances."
"Yeah, I get it, Lex," Clark said and headed for the door.
"For what it's worth, Clark, welcome to the family," Lex said, hopeful yet wistful, behind him.