![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaTitle: What Lex Lost (And Never Knew)
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing/Characters: Oliver Queen/Clark Kent
Kinks/Warnings: BDSM, Pain, Mild Blood Play, Spanking
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3205
Summary: Written for the Christmas Kink!Athon. Clark comes to Oliver, seeking a release he can’t get on his own after he fails to save a young woman, and the guilt is eating him alive.
A/Ns & Warnings: Don't own...and if I did, I probably wouldn't share! As to warnings, see above. This was fun to write. I hope it makes you happy!
Clark Kent pushed past him as the door opened without looking at him. If Clark looked at Oliver, he would have to acknowledge what was happening…what was about to happen, and they both knew he wouldn’t be able to go through with it then.
“Clark?”
“Shut up. I don’t want to talk.”
Oliver nodded and followed him into the office, securing the room with the touch of a remote, making this a private world, perfect for containing secret identities and secret deeds. Clark stood in the center of the room, a small box in his hand. Hesitantly, Clark held the box out and Oliver took it slowly, drawing out the discomfort. It was, after all, the reason Clark came to him now, like this.
With a look at Clark’s face, Oliver opened the box, watching the wince as the influence of the rock inside escaped the lead lining. It was an incredible thing, the trust implied in that one simple act. “You sure?” Oliver asked, watching Clark’s face as the glowing green rock affected him.
Clark nodded, still not looking at the older man. Oliver closed the box and let his eyes rake over the slumped shoulders, the unassuming farm boy demeanor. He knew it was a disguise, knew that under it all Clark thrummed with a need he was too clean, too polite to admit to…and now the farm boy was offering that all up, asking Oliver to make it better…to see through the façade and give him what he needs.
Oliver stepped closer, lifting one hand to touch Clark’s face. “I’m going to make this good for you.”
Clark nodded tightly, and Oliver slowly pulled his chin up. “Look at me, Clark.” Those eyes, those impossible blue eyes lifted, meeting his briefly and Oliver couldn’t help himself…he smiled, thinking to himself that Lex Luthor was a bigger fool than he would ever realize…to throw this away.
His first kiss was soft, sweet. Clark didn’t respond, but that was okay. This was new for him and Oliver was willing to bring him along slowly. “Let’s start by losing the flannel.”
Clark’s jaw worked tight, then released. His hands fumbled a little with buttons, but eventually the red flannel as in his hands, then on the desk. Oliver nodded with a bit of a smile. He adjusted his tie and watched Clark shift nervously.
Casually, Oliver opened the box again, watching the pain flit across Clark’s face. “Tell me how it works.” He held up the small rock, no bigger than an arrowhead and studied it.
“It…takes away my powers…makes me vulnerable.”
“And it hurts?” Oliver’s eyes were on Clark now, watching tight abs curl tighter under the nearly sheer cotton of the t-shirt, watched his fists clench.
“Yes. It hurts.”
He put the rock back into the box and closed it. “Okay. Good to know.”
He’d offered this, when Clark was so obviously in need, but when it came to it, Oliver Queen hadn’t believed the squeaky clean farm boy would actually come…but now that he was here, Oliver was going to make sure that he did…repeatedly. He moved over to where Clark stood waiting, circling around him, touching randomly.
“Have you ever been with a man before, Clark?”
Clark had to clear his throat before he could squeak out, “No.”
“Never kissed Lex?”
Clark shook his head, unable to even vocalize that. “But you wanted to, didn’t you?”
There was a distressed sound that came from Clark that wasn’t an admission, but was nothing near denial. “Answer.” Oliver’s tone darkened.
“Yes.” Clark whispered, his head bent.
Oliver rewarded the truth with gentle caresses over Clark’s tense shoulders. “Remove your shirt.” Clark tensed again, then drew a deep breath and pulled the white shirt up and off. Oliver circled around again, to stand in front of Clark. “You are one hot farm boy, Clark.”
Oliver smiled as the red crept over Clark’s face. “You came to me, Clark. You asked me for this. I’m happy to help…I can give you what you want.” He looked Clark in the eye. “What you need, but I will expect complete obedience, complete honesty.” He ran a hand over Clark’s well defined chest, over skin that was hot to the touch. “Is that clear?”
“Yes.” Clark licked his lips and Oliver leaned in to capture them unexpectedly. This time he pressed the kiss, parting Clark’s lips and pushing his tongue into the heat of his mouth. Clark responded, the tension in his body releasing a little, though it ratcheted back up when Oliver cupped a hand to his groin.
Oliver played long fingers along the seam of Clark’s jeans, not specifically along his cock, but the effect was the same. When he pulled back, Clark was hard and Oliver turned his back, walking back to the desk. “Lose the jeans.”
Oliver pulled his suit jacket off and carefully draped it over his office chair. He hadn’t had this in a while, the power over someone infinitely more powerful than himself. It was intoxicating and he had to be careful. He didn’t need to break the boy…Lana and Lex had already done that. Now Oliver got the delicious task of finding all the pieces and putting them back together.
Clark was looking rather vulnerable, in his socks and underwear, his cock obviously hard. Oliver picked up the box and considered his options. “Tell me Clark, did you ever imagine having this with Lex?”
Clark looked up, his eyes a little too wide with little boy wonder for a man who had come here looking for this, for him. “I—Lex and I…it was different.”
Oliver opened the box and watched Clark. “Different how?”
Clark wrapped his arms around his stomach, his face contorted as he dealt with the pain. “Lex…he…was everything I wasn’t when we met.”
“And you wanted to be him?”
Clark shook his head. “No…I wanted…him.”
Oliver nodded and picked up the stone. “You loved him.”
“I-I guess so.”
Oliver stood in front of him, holding the glowing green rock. “And now you know Lex Luthor can’t be trusted…so you come to me.” He traced the point of the stone down Clark’s arm, watching in fascination as it skittered over the skin, leaving a scratch that welled with blood. Clark’s breath hissed and Oliver pocketed the stone. He licked up the line, tasting the copper tang and bringing his face up to Clark’s ear. “You want me to punish you for it, don’t you Clark.”
They both knew what “it” was, the unspoken reason that had pushed Clark into this. They’d both been there. Clark didn’t respond, turned his head away, his jaw clenching tighter. Oliver could still see the pain the stone in his pocket brought, the taught lines of muscle in his body, and he could read the anguish in his eyes.
“You think that’s why you’re here.”
Those eyes closed. “I let her die.”
Oliver let the words hang there. Let them dangle and hum with the despair and self-loathing that would one day defeat the boy who wanted so badly to be everything to everyone.
When the silence was so uncomfortable that Clark looked up at him, Oliver lifted the stone from his pocket again, sliding it’s flat, cold surface up Clark’s back and pressing it against the back of his neck. He made a choking sound and buckled, going slowly to his knees. Oliver followed, his hand and the stone pressed against the skin while Clark whimpered.
He watched, waited. He saw when it fell, the first piece of the wall, and he pulled away, striding over to the desk to hide the stone away behind its lead walls again. Clark drew in a ragged breath, doubled over nearly to the floor.
“I will stop if you tell me to.” Oliver said softly when Clark finally pulled himself up, tears in the corners of his eyes.
Clark shook his head. As he breathed in, Oliver could see he’d done nothing to discourage the hard-on he’d produced earlier. He hadn’t intended to go much further tonight…but the look on Clark’s face…the utter trust…the need…Oliver was more than a little aroused himself.
“Tell me then, Clark…what do you want?”
He could see the panic in the younger man’s eyes…this was part of Clark’s darkness, the part he kept hidden away and never spoke of…behind the disguise of the good son, the good student, the good farm boy. And now, it was Oliver’s job to help him embrace that darkness and come out the other side a stronger man.
“Would you like me to kiss you?” Oliver came to stand in front of him, one hand on Clark’s chin, tilting his face up. Clark’s eyes sparkled up at him and he nodded in Oliver’s hands. Oliver licked his lips and leaned down, taking Clark’s mouth possessively, tilting his head as his tongue swept through his mouth and back out over his lips. He pulled back slowly and Clark was starting to breathe heavily.
“What else do you want?” Oliver asked, a finger tracing over Clark’s cheek. He was hard in his pants, hot and starting to sweat.
Clark looked down, away. Oliver stroked his thumb over his lips, already starting to show signs of being swollen from his kisses. “Tell me Clark. Do you want me to spank you?”
He felt Clark twitch, and knew the word had affected him, that his cock was starting to leak, even without being touched. “Do you want me to make you come?”
Oliver released him and reached for the box. “Do you want me to fuck you Clark?” He opened the box, lifting the stone and bringing it close to Clark’s face. “Do you want me to hurt you?”
“Please.” Clark squeezed the word out as Oliver brought the stone up to his lips.
“Please?”
Clark’s face was red again…with the pain…with the exertion of holding himself upright, with the embarrassment and need. Oliver drew the rock away, settling it into the open box. “Tell me.”
“Yes…please…Oliver…please.” He settled back on his lower legs, his cock a hard, wet line in his tight white underwear. His pupils were full blown, shrinking that incredible blue into a tight ring around the black, and his lips were open as he panted through them.
“Tell me what you want, Clark.”
“All of it…I want it…I want to be…” Oliver nodded, watching him struggle to find the words. He moved slowly to the couch, sitting and adjusting his pants to accommodate his erection.
“Come here, Clark.”
It took him a minute, but eventually Clark turned, moved on his knees until he was kneeling beside Oliver. He ghosted a hand over Clark’s face, then pushed his thumb into his mouth. Almost immediately, Clark closed his lips over it and sucked. Oliver groaned as he pulled it free. “Lose the underwear.”
Clark started, looking up at him before shifting his weight and tugging them down. His cock sprang free, hard and red and oozing pre-cum. “Tell me what you need.” Oliver said, his voice taking a new tone…commanding, but gentle, because Clark wasn’t ready for wanting yet…he needed…and at this point so did Oliver.
“Punishment.” Clark whispered the word and Oliver could have come in his pants like a horny 15 year old. He leaned forward and kissed him harshly, his fingers tangling in Clark’s hair. Slowly he directed Clark up, bending over his knees, positioning his cock so it hung between Oliver’s thighs, held tight between layers of fabric and strong, muscled legs.
“Head down.” Clark complied and Oliver wasn’t sure he’d last long enough. He licked his lips and laid his hand over Clark’s bare ass, rubbing in circles until he heard Clark moan with pleasure. Then he brought the hand down swift and hard. Clark bucked, his cock scraping through Oliver’s thighs. Three more blows came swiftly, and Clark was stiffening, yelling, coming.
Oliver waited until the convulsing nearly stopped, then without warning shoved one long finger inside him, pressing hard and deep and bringing several more long strings of come from Clark, who was shuddering now on his lap. Oliver leaned over and kissed up his spine, up to his ear. “It wasn’t your fault, Clark.”
Clark shook against him. “Say it.”
Clark sat up enough to look at him, the denial in his eyes. “Say it.”
“It wasn’t my fault.” There was no conviction, no truth in the words, but he’d said them easily enough.
Oliver smiled and soothed a hand over his hair. “We’ll work on it.”
He petted down the long line of Clark’s back, rubbing over the red marks. His cock was straining, but he didn’t know if his charge was ready for more. He pulled Clark back onto his knees, adjusting himself before getting up and crossing to the desk to close the box over the stone.
Clark visibly sagged against the couch and Oliver nodded. His own relief could come later. For now, Clark needed a different kind of relief. He crossed to him and let a hand slide through the unruly hair. “You did good, Clark.”
The younger man nodded. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
A half an hour later, Clark was stretched out across Oliver’s bed on his stomach, already asleep. The last 24 hours had been an emotional train wreck for the young man, and sleep was inevitable.
Oliver leaned against the door frame, his shirt unbuttoned and his pants undone, slowly stroking his cock to the sight. Clark whimpered in his sleep and Oliver felt the sound in his cock. He pulled harder, hissing as he remembered the heat of Clark’s mouth as he sucked Oliver’s thumb into his mouth and imagining that heat closing over his cock.
Clark stirred, shifted in his sleep and Oliver stopped his movement. He licked his lips and exhaled slowly. He wanted to wait…to save this for Clark…to show him what he was capable of…to give him something. With a strong will, he let go of his erection and began pulling his clothes off and moved to crawl into bed beside Clark.
He wanted the farm boy to wake up in his bed, naked and vulnerable, wanted him to know, remember. Clark moaned a little in his sleep, shifting so Oliver could just slide in, pulling him to lay his head on Oliver’s shoulder. As his cock came in contact with Clark’s skin, he almost came, but he breathed through it and squeezed the base until it slumped a little. He’d wake up so hard that it wouldn’t take much to make him come…but it was a small price to pay.
Oliver was awake before Clark, in part due to the erection that was painful as it rubbed against Clark’s hip. Clark stirred, his head coming up slowly, his face registering confusion, embarrassment and then that shy, boyish smile that never failed to make Oliver want to put his cock into that mouth. “Morning.”
Clark met his eyes briefly, then looked away. “Morning.”
Oliver decided that he needed to press the lesson of the night before. “It wasn’t your fault Clark.” He felt Clark stiffen and rubbed his cock against him. “Say it.”
“It wasn’t my fault.” He said it flatly, still not truth or conviction coloring his tone.
“Now, look at me and say it.”
That took longer and encouragement. Oliver put two fingers on Clark’s chin and drew his face back toward his own. He searched Clark’s eyes and waited. Clark blinked a few times, then nodded almost imperceptibly. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“That’s better.” Oliver said, pulling his face up until he could kiss him. He nipped at Clark’s lips until they were bruised and swollen and Clark’s mouth opened to him easily, kissing back almost enthusiastically. “Now…we need to deal with what is your fault.”
Clark’s expression showed confusion until Oliver moved his hips against him. Clark looked down and then grinned. Oliver’s hands were in his hair, encouraging him to move down toward his cock.
“I—I’ve never…”
“Its okay Clark…go easy…nothing you don’t want to do.”
“No…I want…I just.” He looked up at Oliver with those big eyes and Oliver nearly blew it just from the earnest expression.
Oliver reached for himself, but before his hand could close around his cock, he felt a tentative touch. Clark positioned himself on his knees and wrapped a hand around Oliver’s straining dick. “Easy.” Oliver whispered as he slipped through Clark’s hands.
A hesitant tongue tickled its way up the underside and he jerked upward, making Clark chuckle. “Easy.” Clark repeated, then he opened that mouth and took him in, closing his lips over the head and sucking lightly while he figured out the logistics for the next step. Oliver tried to keep from thrusting upward, but he was already so close…so ready…with one hand twined in Clark’s hair, he pulled him up and off as he came, shooting onto his stomach with a twitch and a yell.
It took him a minute to catch his breath and when he opened his eyes, Clark looked a little lost. Oliver sat up and drew him close, kissing him softly. “You okay?”
Clark nodded. “Yeah. I think. I—“
Oliver kissed him again. “It takes time, Clark. You’ll figure it out.”
“I should go. I’ve got chores.”
Oliver got out of bed, and tossed the clothes he’d gathered from the office in Clark’s direction, before reaching for a robe. He gave Clark the bedroom to dress and descended into the office, picking up the box. He held it out to Clark when he came down the stairs, but Clark didn’t take it.
“I—want you to keep it.” Clark said haltingly.
Oliver looked at it, then at Clark. “Okay. Let me show you something.” He guided Clark to a cabinet in the corner of the office space. Taking Clark’s hand, Oliver put his finger over a button at the back of the cabinet and pressed. A small drawer opened and Oliver held the box between them. “This will go here. Anytime you need it. Anytime you need this, you get it out and put it where I can see it.”
It was as close to a promise as he could make, to hold this for the next time, to wait for Clark to come back to him, come back for more. Clark nodded. “Yeah, okay.” His voice was breathy and his usual confidence shaky as he felt his way along this new thing.
It was a trust between them, a sharing of secrets that went way beyond double identities and promises of solidarity. A piece of rock in a box. An opening. A vulnerability. Oliver met those brilliant blue eyes and offered his promise in return.
Ever so slowly, the tension left Clark’s face, his eyes dropped and that smile, warm like sunrise, broke over his face. In that smile, Oliver knew one day everything in Clark that was shattered and broken could be put back together…and when that happened, Clark Kent would fly way beyond anything Lex Luthor could ever do to him.
Oliver watched Clark leave, smiling at the thought that Lex would never even know what he’d lost.
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing/Characters: Oliver Queen/Clark Kent
Kinks/Warnings: BDSM, Pain, Mild Blood Play, Spanking
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3205
Summary: Written for the Christmas Kink!Athon. Clark comes to Oliver, seeking a release he can’t get on his own after he fails to save a young woman, and the guilt is eating him alive.
A/Ns & Warnings: Don't own...and if I did, I probably wouldn't share! As to warnings, see above. This was fun to write. I hope it makes you happy!
Clark Kent pushed past him as the door opened without looking at him. If Clark looked at Oliver, he would have to acknowledge what was happening…what was about to happen, and they both knew he wouldn’t be able to go through with it then.
“Clark?”
“Shut up. I don’t want to talk.”
Oliver nodded and followed him into the office, securing the room with the touch of a remote, making this a private world, perfect for containing secret identities and secret deeds. Clark stood in the center of the room, a small box in his hand. Hesitantly, Clark held the box out and Oliver took it slowly, drawing out the discomfort. It was, after all, the reason Clark came to him now, like this.
With a look at Clark’s face, Oliver opened the box, watching the wince as the influence of the rock inside escaped the lead lining. It was an incredible thing, the trust implied in that one simple act. “You sure?” Oliver asked, watching Clark’s face as the glowing green rock affected him.
Clark nodded, still not looking at the older man. Oliver closed the box and let his eyes rake over the slumped shoulders, the unassuming farm boy demeanor. He knew it was a disguise, knew that under it all Clark thrummed with a need he was too clean, too polite to admit to…and now the farm boy was offering that all up, asking Oliver to make it better…to see through the façade and give him what he needs.
Oliver stepped closer, lifting one hand to touch Clark’s face. “I’m going to make this good for you.”
Clark nodded tightly, and Oliver slowly pulled his chin up. “Look at me, Clark.” Those eyes, those impossible blue eyes lifted, meeting his briefly and Oliver couldn’t help himself…he smiled, thinking to himself that Lex Luthor was a bigger fool than he would ever realize…to throw this away.
His first kiss was soft, sweet. Clark didn’t respond, but that was okay. This was new for him and Oliver was willing to bring him along slowly. “Let’s start by losing the flannel.”
Clark’s jaw worked tight, then released. His hands fumbled a little with buttons, but eventually the red flannel as in his hands, then on the desk. Oliver nodded with a bit of a smile. He adjusted his tie and watched Clark shift nervously.
Casually, Oliver opened the box again, watching the pain flit across Clark’s face. “Tell me how it works.” He held up the small rock, no bigger than an arrowhead and studied it.
“It…takes away my powers…makes me vulnerable.”
“And it hurts?” Oliver’s eyes were on Clark now, watching tight abs curl tighter under the nearly sheer cotton of the t-shirt, watched his fists clench.
“Yes. It hurts.”
He put the rock back into the box and closed it. “Okay. Good to know.”
He’d offered this, when Clark was so obviously in need, but when it came to it, Oliver Queen hadn’t believed the squeaky clean farm boy would actually come…but now that he was here, Oliver was going to make sure that he did…repeatedly. He moved over to where Clark stood waiting, circling around him, touching randomly.
“Have you ever been with a man before, Clark?”
Clark had to clear his throat before he could squeak out, “No.”
“Never kissed Lex?”
Clark shook his head, unable to even vocalize that. “But you wanted to, didn’t you?”
There was a distressed sound that came from Clark that wasn’t an admission, but was nothing near denial. “Answer.” Oliver’s tone darkened.
“Yes.” Clark whispered, his head bent.
Oliver rewarded the truth with gentle caresses over Clark’s tense shoulders. “Remove your shirt.” Clark tensed again, then drew a deep breath and pulled the white shirt up and off. Oliver circled around again, to stand in front of Clark. “You are one hot farm boy, Clark.”
Oliver smiled as the red crept over Clark’s face. “You came to me, Clark. You asked me for this. I’m happy to help…I can give you what you want.” He looked Clark in the eye. “What you need, but I will expect complete obedience, complete honesty.” He ran a hand over Clark’s well defined chest, over skin that was hot to the touch. “Is that clear?”
“Yes.” Clark licked his lips and Oliver leaned in to capture them unexpectedly. This time he pressed the kiss, parting Clark’s lips and pushing his tongue into the heat of his mouth. Clark responded, the tension in his body releasing a little, though it ratcheted back up when Oliver cupped a hand to his groin.
Oliver played long fingers along the seam of Clark’s jeans, not specifically along his cock, but the effect was the same. When he pulled back, Clark was hard and Oliver turned his back, walking back to the desk. “Lose the jeans.”
Oliver pulled his suit jacket off and carefully draped it over his office chair. He hadn’t had this in a while, the power over someone infinitely more powerful than himself. It was intoxicating and he had to be careful. He didn’t need to break the boy…Lana and Lex had already done that. Now Oliver got the delicious task of finding all the pieces and putting them back together.
Clark was looking rather vulnerable, in his socks and underwear, his cock obviously hard. Oliver picked up the box and considered his options. “Tell me Clark, did you ever imagine having this with Lex?”
Clark looked up, his eyes a little too wide with little boy wonder for a man who had come here looking for this, for him. “I—Lex and I…it was different.”
Oliver opened the box and watched Clark. “Different how?”
Clark wrapped his arms around his stomach, his face contorted as he dealt with the pain. “Lex…he…was everything I wasn’t when we met.”
“And you wanted to be him?”
Clark shook his head. “No…I wanted…him.”
Oliver nodded and picked up the stone. “You loved him.”
“I-I guess so.”
Oliver stood in front of him, holding the glowing green rock. “And now you know Lex Luthor can’t be trusted…so you come to me.” He traced the point of the stone down Clark’s arm, watching in fascination as it skittered over the skin, leaving a scratch that welled with blood. Clark’s breath hissed and Oliver pocketed the stone. He licked up the line, tasting the copper tang and bringing his face up to Clark’s ear. “You want me to punish you for it, don’t you Clark.”
They both knew what “it” was, the unspoken reason that had pushed Clark into this. They’d both been there. Clark didn’t respond, turned his head away, his jaw clenching tighter. Oliver could still see the pain the stone in his pocket brought, the taught lines of muscle in his body, and he could read the anguish in his eyes.
“You think that’s why you’re here.”
Those eyes closed. “I let her die.”
Oliver let the words hang there. Let them dangle and hum with the despair and self-loathing that would one day defeat the boy who wanted so badly to be everything to everyone.
When the silence was so uncomfortable that Clark looked up at him, Oliver lifted the stone from his pocket again, sliding it’s flat, cold surface up Clark’s back and pressing it against the back of his neck. He made a choking sound and buckled, going slowly to his knees. Oliver followed, his hand and the stone pressed against the skin while Clark whimpered.
He watched, waited. He saw when it fell, the first piece of the wall, and he pulled away, striding over to the desk to hide the stone away behind its lead walls again. Clark drew in a ragged breath, doubled over nearly to the floor.
“I will stop if you tell me to.” Oliver said softly when Clark finally pulled himself up, tears in the corners of his eyes.
Clark shook his head. As he breathed in, Oliver could see he’d done nothing to discourage the hard-on he’d produced earlier. He hadn’t intended to go much further tonight…but the look on Clark’s face…the utter trust…the need…Oliver was more than a little aroused himself.
“Tell me then, Clark…what do you want?”
He could see the panic in the younger man’s eyes…this was part of Clark’s darkness, the part he kept hidden away and never spoke of…behind the disguise of the good son, the good student, the good farm boy. And now, it was Oliver’s job to help him embrace that darkness and come out the other side a stronger man.
“Would you like me to kiss you?” Oliver came to stand in front of him, one hand on Clark’s chin, tilting his face up. Clark’s eyes sparkled up at him and he nodded in Oliver’s hands. Oliver licked his lips and leaned down, taking Clark’s mouth possessively, tilting his head as his tongue swept through his mouth and back out over his lips. He pulled back slowly and Clark was starting to breathe heavily.
“What else do you want?” Oliver asked, a finger tracing over Clark’s cheek. He was hard in his pants, hot and starting to sweat.
Clark looked down, away. Oliver stroked his thumb over his lips, already starting to show signs of being swollen from his kisses. “Tell me Clark. Do you want me to spank you?”
He felt Clark twitch, and knew the word had affected him, that his cock was starting to leak, even without being touched. “Do you want me to make you come?”
Oliver released him and reached for the box. “Do you want me to fuck you Clark?” He opened the box, lifting the stone and bringing it close to Clark’s face. “Do you want me to hurt you?”
“Please.” Clark squeezed the word out as Oliver brought the stone up to his lips.
“Please?”
Clark’s face was red again…with the pain…with the exertion of holding himself upright, with the embarrassment and need. Oliver drew the rock away, settling it into the open box. “Tell me.”
“Yes…please…Oliver…please.” He settled back on his lower legs, his cock a hard, wet line in his tight white underwear. His pupils were full blown, shrinking that incredible blue into a tight ring around the black, and his lips were open as he panted through them.
“Tell me what you want, Clark.”
“All of it…I want it…I want to be…” Oliver nodded, watching him struggle to find the words. He moved slowly to the couch, sitting and adjusting his pants to accommodate his erection.
“Come here, Clark.”
It took him a minute, but eventually Clark turned, moved on his knees until he was kneeling beside Oliver. He ghosted a hand over Clark’s face, then pushed his thumb into his mouth. Almost immediately, Clark closed his lips over it and sucked. Oliver groaned as he pulled it free. “Lose the underwear.”
Clark started, looking up at him before shifting his weight and tugging them down. His cock sprang free, hard and red and oozing pre-cum. “Tell me what you need.” Oliver said, his voice taking a new tone…commanding, but gentle, because Clark wasn’t ready for wanting yet…he needed…and at this point so did Oliver.
“Punishment.” Clark whispered the word and Oliver could have come in his pants like a horny 15 year old. He leaned forward and kissed him harshly, his fingers tangling in Clark’s hair. Slowly he directed Clark up, bending over his knees, positioning his cock so it hung between Oliver’s thighs, held tight between layers of fabric and strong, muscled legs.
“Head down.” Clark complied and Oliver wasn’t sure he’d last long enough. He licked his lips and laid his hand over Clark’s bare ass, rubbing in circles until he heard Clark moan with pleasure. Then he brought the hand down swift and hard. Clark bucked, his cock scraping through Oliver’s thighs. Three more blows came swiftly, and Clark was stiffening, yelling, coming.
Oliver waited until the convulsing nearly stopped, then without warning shoved one long finger inside him, pressing hard and deep and bringing several more long strings of come from Clark, who was shuddering now on his lap. Oliver leaned over and kissed up his spine, up to his ear. “It wasn’t your fault, Clark.”
Clark shook against him. “Say it.”
Clark sat up enough to look at him, the denial in his eyes. “Say it.”
“It wasn’t my fault.” There was no conviction, no truth in the words, but he’d said them easily enough.
Oliver smiled and soothed a hand over his hair. “We’ll work on it.”
He petted down the long line of Clark’s back, rubbing over the red marks. His cock was straining, but he didn’t know if his charge was ready for more. He pulled Clark back onto his knees, adjusting himself before getting up and crossing to the desk to close the box over the stone.
Clark visibly sagged against the couch and Oliver nodded. His own relief could come later. For now, Clark needed a different kind of relief. He crossed to him and let a hand slide through the unruly hair. “You did good, Clark.”
The younger man nodded. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
A half an hour later, Clark was stretched out across Oliver’s bed on his stomach, already asleep. The last 24 hours had been an emotional train wreck for the young man, and sleep was inevitable.
Oliver leaned against the door frame, his shirt unbuttoned and his pants undone, slowly stroking his cock to the sight. Clark whimpered in his sleep and Oliver felt the sound in his cock. He pulled harder, hissing as he remembered the heat of Clark’s mouth as he sucked Oliver’s thumb into his mouth and imagining that heat closing over his cock.
Clark stirred, shifted in his sleep and Oliver stopped his movement. He licked his lips and exhaled slowly. He wanted to wait…to save this for Clark…to show him what he was capable of…to give him something. With a strong will, he let go of his erection and began pulling his clothes off and moved to crawl into bed beside Clark.
He wanted the farm boy to wake up in his bed, naked and vulnerable, wanted him to know, remember. Clark moaned a little in his sleep, shifting so Oliver could just slide in, pulling him to lay his head on Oliver’s shoulder. As his cock came in contact with Clark’s skin, he almost came, but he breathed through it and squeezed the base until it slumped a little. He’d wake up so hard that it wouldn’t take much to make him come…but it was a small price to pay.
Oliver was awake before Clark, in part due to the erection that was painful as it rubbed against Clark’s hip. Clark stirred, his head coming up slowly, his face registering confusion, embarrassment and then that shy, boyish smile that never failed to make Oliver want to put his cock into that mouth. “Morning.”
Clark met his eyes briefly, then looked away. “Morning.”
Oliver decided that he needed to press the lesson of the night before. “It wasn’t your fault Clark.” He felt Clark stiffen and rubbed his cock against him. “Say it.”
“It wasn’t my fault.” He said it flatly, still not truth or conviction coloring his tone.
“Now, look at me and say it.”
That took longer and encouragement. Oliver put two fingers on Clark’s chin and drew his face back toward his own. He searched Clark’s eyes and waited. Clark blinked a few times, then nodded almost imperceptibly. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“That’s better.” Oliver said, pulling his face up until he could kiss him. He nipped at Clark’s lips until they were bruised and swollen and Clark’s mouth opened to him easily, kissing back almost enthusiastically. “Now…we need to deal with what is your fault.”
Clark’s expression showed confusion until Oliver moved his hips against him. Clark looked down and then grinned. Oliver’s hands were in his hair, encouraging him to move down toward his cock.
“I—I’ve never…”
“Its okay Clark…go easy…nothing you don’t want to do.”
“No…I want…I just.” He looked up at Oliver with those big eyes and Oliver nearly blew it just from the earnest expression.
Oliver reached for himself, but before his hand could close around his cock, he felt a tentative touch. Clark positioned himself on his knees and wrapped a hand around Oliver’s straining dick. “Easy.” Oliver whispered as he slipped through Clark’s hands.
A hesitant tongue tickled its way up the underside and he jerked upward, making Clark chuckle. “Easy.” Clark repeated, then he opened that mouth and took him in, closing his lips over the head and sucking lightly while he figured out the logistics for the next step. Oliver tried to keep from thrusting upward, but he was already so close…so ready…with one hand twined in Clark’s hair, he pulled him up and off as he came, shooting onto his stomach with a twitch and a yell.
It took him a minute to catch his breath and when he opened his eyes, Clark looked a little lost. Oliver sat up and drew him close, kissing him softly. “You okay?”
Clark nodded. “Yeah. I think. I—“
Oliver kissed him again. “It takes time, Clark. You’ll figure it out.”
“I should go. I’ve got chores.”
Oliver got out of bed, and tossed the clothes he’d gathered from the office in Clark’s direction, before reaching for a robe. He gave Clark the bedroom to dress and descended into the office, picking up the box. He held it out to Clark when he came down the stairs, but Clark didn’t take it.
“I—want you to keep it.” Clark said haltingly.
Oliver looked at it, then at Clark. “Okay. Let me show you something.” He guided Clark to a cabinet in the corner of the office space. Taking Clark’s hand, Oliver put his finger over a button at the back of the cabinet and pressed. A small drawer opened and Oliver held the box between them. “This will go here. Anytime you need it. Anytime you need this, you get it out and put it where I can see it.”
It was as close to a promise as he could make, to hold this for the next time, to wait for Clark to come back to him, come back for more. Clark nodded. “Yeah, okay.” His voice was breathy and his usual confidence shaky as he felt his way along this new thing.
It was a trust between them, a sharing of secrets that went way beyond double identities and promises of solidarity. A piece of rock in a box. An opening. A vulnerability. Oliver met those brilliant blue eyes and offered his promise in return.
Ever so slowly, the tension left Clark’s face, his eyes dropped and that smile, warm like sunrise, broke over his face. In that smile, Oliver knew one day everything in Clark that was shattered and broken could be put back together…and when that happened, Clark Kent would fly way beyond anything Lex Luthor could ever do to him.
Oliver watched Clark leave, smiling at the thought that Lex would never even know what he’d lost.
