SV fic: I GotYour Man (and you can't do anything)
Title: I GotYour Man(and you can't do anything)
Fandom:SV
Pairing: Clark/Whit
Word Count: 2316
Rating: R? Hard R?
Summary: just the merest smidgeon of porn
A/N: I'm trying to jumpstart my brain. Whit and Clark are like comfort food to me. :)
Thank you a bazillion times, rednihilist, I needed that pat on the back!
"What do you want to do now?"
"I don't know…get something to eat?" Clark tossed his books into the back of the truck cab, squashing some drink cups and an empty pizza box. "You're kind of a slob, Whit."
"Doesn’t matter-I'm hot." Whit grinned at him, and Clark could only roll his eyes. Sure, Whit was hot, but Clark wasn't about to agree with him-Whit's ego was big enough, thank you. Plus there was the likelihood that Whit would slug him, buddies or not.
"Really, Whit? *I* don't think so," Clark said, and glanced over. Whit was flashing him a bright, sunny smile-but for a second, Clark thought he'd seen hurt. He looked right into Whit's face. Those bright blue eyes were full of nothing but laughter and Clark was sorry that he was seeing things that weren't really there. He wanted Whit to be hurt-but wanting that was mean and stupid of him. "I-I-didn't mean it like that."
Whit laughed. "Like what, Kent? I have to tell you, if you did think I was hot, I'd kind of worry about you."
Clark laughed along with Whit, surprised it sounded as real as it did, considering his throat felt like he'd just swallowed a brick. There was something to be happy about though-he was happy Whit wasn't a meteor mutant, because with his luck, Whit would have the power of reading minds, and the power of drop-kicking Clark out of his truck. "Ha ha. Whit plus jokes equal good time. Or not."
Whit threw him another bright grin, and winked. Open windows made it hard to talk over the roar of the wind, so Clark just leaned against the seat back and watched the fields flash by. They were on the outskirts of Smallville before Whit slowed down again.
"Stop at McCrory's and get some ice-cream, or a hotdog?" Whit asked and Clark nodded, surprised they didn’t just head into the Beanery. Though McCrory's did have the best dogs ever and he could go for ice-cream…crap. Clark lifted his hips off the seat and squeaked when the truck swerved.
"Shit! Suicidal bird," Whit explained when Clark glared at him, and then asked slowly, "Kent…what the fuck are you doing?"
"Sorry--I-I'm looking for money?" He dropped back on the seat. "Sorry. And I'm broke, Whit, so maybe we can just get cokes at my house?"
"Eh," Whit waved his hand. "Don’t worry about it-I got it. Just-don’t go jumping around in the cab anymore, okay? It's…distracting." Whit scowled at the road and Clark nodded.
"Yes, okay. And sorry."
Whit huffed. "Clark, man-stop apologizing. It's okay. And get what you want," he said, pulling onto the wide dirt apron in front of McCrory's.
Whit drove around the big dirt lot, looking for a space. There were lots of trucks and cars parked there already-McCrory's was a popular warm weather hangout, and everyone was taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather. The line in front of the ice-cream stand. done up to look like a barn, went to the street and little kids darted in and out of it, screaming for their parents to take them to see the calves leaning against the fence separating the working part of the farm from the public part.
Clark slid out of the truck as soon as Whit came to a stop, not waiting even though he heard Whit's door open. Eyes on the ground, he hurried over to the takeout window. He passed a group of guys hanging around one of the trucks-Whit's former team mates, Whit's friends. They cast eyes at Clark but no one greeted him--they all greeted Whit, wondered where he was, why wasn't he hanging out with them. Clark ignored the voices, ignored Whit's answer. He stared blankly at the menu card until he realized…he had enough money for maybe a glass of naked ice and that was about it. He blinked hard, blushed when the woman behind the window raised her eyebrows and asked, "Ordering some time today, hon?"
"No-no, sorry, I-"
He gulped when something hit him from behind, remembering at the last second to go with it.
"Kent! I leave you for half a second and you’re gone. What'd you order?"
"Nothing," Clark said, "I thought…."
Whit's expression cycled through puzzlement, understanding, annoyance, and finally to some kind of soft look Clark just didn't get. He shoved a handful of bills in Clark's hand-probably way more than what they needed, Clark thought. He imagined that Whit's fingers lingered a second…."I told you, get something, Clark. Order us two hotdogs-apiece--and a couple of cokes. I'm going to pull the truck up around the back. Find us a place to sit?"
The back of McCrory's was a wide, grassy area with picnic tables, a little swing set and a hoop at one end of the field and a horse shoe pit at the other. Clark met Whit as he climbed out of the truck again.
"Small town America," he sneered at the screaming kids on the playground, the frazzled parents running after them. "Can’t beat it."
Clark rolled his eyes and smiled. Whit acted like he thought it was stupid, but Clark knew-Whit loved his town. Loved it now, anyway. They headed towards an empty, fairly clean table. Whit made his way carefully through the crowd, Clark following and trying to be unobtrusive about running interference for Whit.
When they settled at their table, Whit sat with his back to the parking lot. Clark smiled. Figured it meant that Whit was not at home to any company but his and that felt…pretty damn good.
Whit was a surprise to Clark. He'd expected…well, not this, not this friendship. Whit was proving to be a much more interesting guy than Clark thought possible. He was funny, and kind, and soft spoken, when he wasn't being sarcastic and bitchy and barking at people…
"What? I've got something?" Whit asked and wiped at his face. Clark shook his head no.
"Just thinking. I thought when we pulled up…"
"I know what you thought. Those guys-I have to talk to them, they used to be my team-I want them to know I'm okay with this-that I'm dealing." Whit slapped his hand down on his busted knee and Clark winced. "I'm okay listening to them talk about the games, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend every second with them. I like you, Kent. You're funny, and a good guy, when you’re not pretending to be Mother Theresa."
"Hunh?"
"You need to lighten up, dude. It suits you, smiling. You act like you've got the world on your shoulders…" Whit stopped and looked pained. "I mean…crap. There's nothing wrong at home or stuff, is there? I'm sorry if I--"
"Oh, no, Whit-well, no more than usual. Money's tight right now, but it's not a big deal. So what if there's no Air Jordans for me?" Clark smirked. "I don’t have to buy bagged sneakers in the bin at the mart, so…"
Whit laughed out loud, and Clark shivered inside. He watched Whit's eyes sparkle like sunlight on the lake. He wanted to kiss Whit so bad, every part of him hurt. He wanted to touch him, smell him…and that wasn't happening in a million years. He'd thought when Whit came back to town on a medical discharge that they'd go back to fencing over Lana but somehow, Whit ended up inching into Clark's life, slowly but surely becoming a friend he could count on, someone who only wanted Clark to be…Clark. And it was like a long swallow of cool, cool, water.
Except for this one thing.
Before Whit, he'd thought that maybe…it was only Lex. Because it'd started when he found himself watching Lex's rear when he wore those tight, tailored, slinky trousers.
But.
No.
He'd found out he was just as willing to watch Whit's baggy jean clad butt and hope fervently that Whit was going to drop something so he could watch the fabric pull tight and…and….
Clark took a bite of hotdog and chewed for his life.
He was pretty sure Lex knew. Lex smirked at him when he walked across the room, but then again, Lex smirked at everything. Lex drank water with a smirk. Lex…probably knew what was going on better than Clark did, and Lex nailed chicks too. Lex must be bisexual. Which meant he was getting twice the amount of ass Clark wasn't. Mortified at the sudden turn his thoughts had taken, Clark's throat snapped up tight around a bit of hotdog. He wheezed, turned bright red, and thought how glad he was that he had a good reason to blush because what had been in his mind wasn't Lex, but Whit, naked and posed like those guys at the Raging Dicks site or whatever the hell it'd been called…
Whit was pounding his back like crazy and Clark hadn't even noticed until he swallowed and by then, Whit was rubbing little circles into his shoulder blades and Clark's dick was saying, 'hey, remember that randy young studs shoot last week on your favorite naughty website? Remember how we were hard as steel? Well-hellooo…'
"Are you okay, Clark?"
Clark nodded frantically, and whipped his shoulders around until Whit's hand went flying, leaving only a fading warm spot on his back. Whit sat quickly, plopped himself down and grabbed his hotdog and bit so hard, Clark winced a bit.
Great, now he'd offended Whit…well, better that than chance Whit getting an eyeful of his…problem.
"Wow, excuse me for not wanting to have to drag your huge corpse home to your mom. I'm pretty sure I'd miss out on the good cookies if I brought her son home choked to death. I'll remember not to whack you next time you choke…or…wait; did I hit you too hard?"
"Ah, ha-ha, no, no-" Clark tried to laugh, but his shoulders were still burning with Whit's touch, his concern, his very hot, very soothing hands rubbing into his skin…"Thank you, I was okay but thank you."
"Yeah…all right. Ice-cream on the way home?"
Clark brightened up right away. "Ice cream, yeah, and I'll pay you back, promise."
Whit looked at him weird and licked his lips. "I know you're good for it. I just wish you wouldn't worry about it."
The way Whit smiled at him made Clark feel like Christmas had come early. He just wished he could unwrap the package. Clark sighed, a tiny little internal sigh. Okay, he thought, really? No more on-line porn. It was affecting the whole way he saw the world, and it wasn't as funny as his dick would like to think….
* * * * * *
That night, Whit crept into his room, tall, blonde, sexy Whit, built like a god, or at least like those guys on the site-no, screw that-better. His skin rippled as he moved; looked smooth as silk…a trail of dark hair crept down from his navel and thickened around his cock, the dark a stark contrast against his pale, creamy skin. He flexed and Clark groaned. Ran his hand over his own cock, squeezing hard as he worked his fist towards the tip, watched as Whit did the same. Every move Clark made Whit mirrored. Licked his palm when Clark did, worked his fist up and down his cock, collected precome in the web of his thumb and sucked it off. Clark's dick jumped, dripped…"this is the best one yet," he groaned, his hips snapping off the bed. He rolled his balls in his hand, pulled down and grunted, yeah…hissed when Whit smirked and started fucking his fist.
'Yeah, come on Clark, come on, suck me.' Clark jammed a couple of fingers into his mouth and sucked hard, sucked like getting an A depended on how wet he could get those fingers, ignored the drool that escaped the corners of his mouth because Whit loved when he did that. Clark closed his eyes and Whit shoved soaking wet fingers up his ass, teasing the rim of his hole, whispering really nasty stuff in his ear that later Clark was going to have to come up with some dirty things for Whit to whisper but right now, stars were exploding behind his eyelids and his balls were drawing up tight and…and his hand was slipping fast as shit, he was so wet and his dick swelled, tightened and then he was coming all over his stomach while Whit crooned 'what a good boy' in his ear.
"Fuuuuu…" Clark moaned. *That* had been the best fantasy yet. He lay there with rapidly cooling come, thick and slippery, all over his stomach, a loopy smile pasted on his face. He was starting to slip away into a peaceful sleep when a sharp stab of guilt brought him wide awake again. He sighed, grabbed a t-shirt off the floor and wiped up the mess he'd made. His cheeks burned-thank god Whit didn't know what he did in Clark's room late at night. Was it wrong to imagine your best friend joining you in incredible orgasms? Or fucking you into one, Clark wondered. He rolled to his side, pulled up his knees and shoved one hand under his pillow, stuck the other between his thighs and sighed like the wind.
Tomorrow. He'd feel bad about it tomorrow. Right now, his ass felt great and he was still loose and warm and felt like he was made of taffy....
The room got darker, the air warmer, and somewhere in some shiny, bright, happy place, Whit and he played in a big, warm, lavender lake, and gave each other lots of perfect blowjobs and there were apple pies stacked everywhere….
~~~
part two
Fandom:SV
Pairing: Clark/Whit
Word Count: 2316
Rating: R? Hard R?
Summary: just the merest smidgeon of porn
A/N: I'm trying to jumpstart my brain. Whit and Clark are like comfort food to me. :)
Thank you a bazillion times, rednihilist, I needed that pat on the back!
"What do you want to do now?"
"I don't know…get something to eat?" Clark tossed his books into the back of the truck cab, squashing some drink cups and an empty pizza box. "You're kind of a slob, Whit."
"Doesn’t matter-I'm hot." Whit grinned at him, and Clark could only roll his eyes. Sure, Whit was hot, but Clark wasn't about to agree with him-Whit's ego was big enough, thank you. Plus there was the likelihood that Whit would slug him, buddies or not.
"Really, Whit? *I* don't think so," Clark said, and glanced over. Whit was flashing him a bright, sunny smile-but for a second, Clark thought he'd seen hurt. He looked right into Whit's face. Those bright blue eyes were full of nothing but laughter and Clark was sorry that he was seeing things that weren't really there. He wanted Whit to be hurt-but wanting that was mean and stupid of him. "I-I-didn't mean it like that."
Whit laughed. "Like what, Kent? I have to tell you, if you did think I was hot, I'd kind of worry about you."
Clark laughed along with Whit, surprised it sounded as real as it did, considering his throat felt like he'd just swallowed a brick. There was something to be happy about though-he was happy Whit wasn't a meteor mutant, because with his luck, Whit would have the power of reading minds, and the power of drop-kicking Clark out of his truck. "Ha ha. Whit plus jokes equal good time. Or not."
Whit threw him another bright grin, and winked. Open windows made it hard to talk over the roar of the wind, so Clark just leaned against the seat back and watched the fields flash by. They were on the outskirts of Smallville before Whit slowed down again.
"Stop at McCrory's and get some ice-cream, or a hotdog?" Whit asked and Clark nodded, surprised they didn’t just head into the Beanery. Though McCrory's did have the best dogs ever and he could go for ice-cream…crap. Clark lifted his hips off the seat and squeaked when the truck swerved.
"Shit! Suicidal bird," Whit explained when Clark glared at him, and then asked slowly, "Kent…what the fuck are you doing?"
"Sorry--I-I'm looking for money?" He dropped back on the seat. "Sorry. And I'm broke, Whit, so maybe we can just get cokes at my house?"
"Eh," Whit waved his hand. "Don’t worry about it-I got it. Just-don’t go jumping around in the cab anymore, okay? It's…distracting." Whit scowled at the road and Clark nodded.
"Yes, okay. And sorry."
Whit huffed. "Clark, man-stop apologizing. It's okay. And get what you want," he said, pulling onto the wide dirt apron in front of McCrory's.
Whit drove around the big dirt lot, looking for a space. There were lots of trucks and cars parked there already-McCrory's was a popular warm weather hangout, and everyone was taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather. The line in front of the ice-cream stand. done up to look like a barn, went to the street and little kids darted in and out of it, screaming for their parents to take them to see the calves leaning against the fence separating the working part of the farm from the public part.
Clark slid out of the truck as soon as Whit came to a stop, not waiting even though he heard Whit's door open. Eyes on the ground, he hurried over to the takeout window. He passed a group of guys hanging around one of the trucks-Whit's former team mates, Whit's friends. They cast eyes at Clark but no one greeted him--they all greeted Whit, wondered where he was, why wasn't he hanging out with them. Clark ignored the voices, ignored Whit's answer. He stared blankly at the menu card until he realized…he had enough money for maybe a glass of naked ice and that was about it. He blinked hard, blushed when the woman behind the window raised her eyebrows and asked, "Ordering some time today, hon?"
"No-no, sorry, I-"
He gulped when something hit him from behind, remembering at the last second to go with it.
"Kent! I leave you for half a second and you’re gone. What'd you order?"
"Nothing," Clark said, "I thought…."
Whit's expression cycled through puzzlement, understanding, annoyance, and finally to some kind of soft look Clark just didn't get. He shoved a handful of bills in Clark's hand-probably way more than what they needed, Clark thought. He imagined that Whit's fingers lingered a second…."I told you, get something, Clark. Order us two hotdogs-apiece--and a couple of cokes. I'm going to pull the truck up around the back. Find us a place to sit?"
The back of McCrory's was a wide, grassy area with picnic tables, a little swing set and a hoop at one end of the field and a horse shoe pit at the other. Clark met Whit as he climbed out of the truck again.
"Small town America," he sneered at the screaming kids on the playground, the frazzled parents running after them. "Can’t beat it."
Clark rolled his eyes and smiled. Whit acted like he thought it was stupid, but Clark knew-Whit loved his town. Loved it now, anyway. They headed towards an empty, fairly clean table. Whit made his way carefully through the crowd, Clark following and trying to be unobtrusive about running interference for Whit.
When they settled at their table, Whit sat with his back to the parking lot. Clark smiled. Figured it meant that Whit was not at home to any company but his and that felt…pretty damn good.
Whit was a surprise to Clark. He'd expected…well, not this, not this friendship. Whit was proving to be a much more interesting guy than Clark thought possible. He was funny, and kind, and soft spoken, when he wasn't being sarcastic and bitchy and barking at people…
"What? I've got something?" Whit asked and wiped at his face. Clark shook his head no.
"Just thinking. I thought when we pulled up…"
"I know what you thought. Those guys-I have to talk to them, they used to be my team-I want them to know I'm okay with this-that I'm dealing." Whit slapped his hand down on his busted knee and Clark winced. "I'm okay listening to them talk about the games, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend every second with them. I like you, Kent. You're funny, and a good guy, when you’re not pretending to be Mother Theresa."
"Hunh?"
"You need to lighten up, dude. It suits you, smiling. You act like you've got the world on your shoulders…" Whit stopped and looked pained. "I mean…crap. There's nothing wrong at home or stuff, is there? I'm sorry if I--"
"Oh, no, Whit-well, no more than usual. Money's tight right now, but it's not a big deal. So what if there's no Air Jordans for me?" Clark smirked. "I don’t have to buy bagged sneakers in the bin at the mart, so…"
Whit laughed out loud, and Clark shivered inside. He watched Whit's eyes sparkle like sunlight on the lake. He wanted to kiss Whit so bad, every part of him hurt. He wanted to touch him, smell him…and that wasn't happening in a million years. He'd thought when Whit came back to town on a medical discharge that they'd go back to fencing over Lana but somehow, Whit ended up inching into Clark's life, slowly but surely becoming a friend he could count on, someone who only wanted Clark to be…Clark. And it was like a long swallow of cool, cool, water.
Except for this one thing.
Before Whit, he'd thought that maybe…it was only Lex. Because it'd started when he found himself watching Lex's rear when he wore those tight, tailored, slinky trousers.
But.
No.
He'd found out he was just as willing to watch Whit's baggy jean clad butt and hope fervently that Whit was going to drop something so he could watch the fabric pull tight and…and….
Clark took a bite of hotdog and chewed for his life.
He was pretty sure Lex knew. Lex smirked at him when he walked across the room, but then again, Lex smirked at everything. Lex drank water with a smirk. Lex…probably knew what was going on better than Clark did, and Lex nailed chicks too. Lex must be bisexual. Which meant he was getting twice the amount of ass Clark wasn't. Mortified at the sudden turn his thoughts had taken, Clark's throat snapped up tight around a bit of hotdog. He wheezed, turned bright red, and thought how glad he was that he had a good reason to blush because what had been in his mind wasn't Lex, but Whit, naked and posed like those guys at the Raging Dicks site or whatever the hell it'd been called…
Whit was pounding his back like crazy and Clark hadn't even noticed until he swallowed and by then, Whit was rubbing little circles into his shoulder blades and Clark's dick was saying, 'hey, remember that randy young studs shoot last week on your favorite naughty website? Remember how we were hard as steel? Well-hellooo…'
"Are you okay, Clark?"
Clark nodded frantically, and whipped his shoulders around until Whit's hand went flying, leaving only a fading warm spot on his back. Whit sat quickly, plopped himself down and grabbed his hotdog and bit so hard, Clark winced a bit.
Great, now he'd offended Whit…well, better that than chance Whit getting an eyeful of his…problem.
"Wow, excuse me for not wanting to have to drag your huge corpse home to your mom. I'm pretty sure I'd miss out on the good cookies if I brought her son home choked to death. I'll remember not to whack you next time you choke…or…wait; did I hit you too hard?"
"Ah, ha-ha, no, no-" Clark tried to laugh, but his shoulders were still burning with Whit's touch, his concern, his very hot, very soothing hands rubbing into his skin…"Thank you, I was okay but thank you."
"Yeah…all right. Ice-cream on the way home?"
Clark brightened up right away. "Ice cream, yeah, and I'll pay you back, promise."
Whit looked at him weird and licked his lips. "I know you're good for it. I just wish you wouldn't worry about it."
The way Whit smiled at him made Clark feel like Christmas had come early. He just wished he could unwrap the package. Clark sighed, a tiny little internal sigh. Okay, he thought, really? No more on-line porn. It was affecting the whole way he saw the world, and it wasn't as funny as his dick would like to think….
* * * * * *
That night, Whit crept into his room, tall, blonde, sexy Whit, built like a god, or at least like those guys on the site-no, screw that-better. His skin rippled as he moved; looked smooth as silk…a trail of dark hair crept down from his navel and thickened around his cock, the dark a stark contrast against his pale, creamy skin. He flexed and Clark groaned. Ran his hand over his own cock, squeezing hard as he worked his fist towards the tip, watched as Whit did the same. Every move Clark made Whit mirrored. Licked his palm when Clark did, worked his fist up and down his cock, collected precome in the web of his thumb and sucked it off. Clark's dick jumped, dripped…"this is the best one yet," he groaned, his hips snapping off the bed. He rolled his balls in his hand, pulled down and grunted, yeah…hissed when Whit smirked and started fucking his fist.
'Yeah, come on Clark, come on, suck me.' Clark jammed a couple of fingers into his mouth and sucked hard, sucked like getting an A depended on how wet he could get those fingers, ignored the drool that escaped the corners of his mouth because Whit loved when he did that. Clark closed his eyes and Whit shoved soaking wet fingers up his ass, teasing the rim of his hole, whispering really nasty stuff in his ear that later Clark was going to have to come up with some dirty things for Whit to whisper but right now, stars were exploding behind his eyelids and his balls were drawing up tight and…and his hand was slipping fast as shit, he was so wet and his dick swelled, tightened and then he was coming all over his stomach while Whit crooned 'what a good boy' in his ear.
"Fuuuuu…" Clark moaned. *That* had been the best fantasy yet. He lay there with rapidly cooling come, thick and slippery, all over his stomach, a loopy smile pasted on his face. He was starting to slip away into a peaceful sleep when a sharp stab of guilt brought him wide awake again. He sighed, grabbed a t-shirt off the floor and wiped up the mess he'd made. His cheeks burned-thank god Whit didn't know what he did in Clark's room late at night. Was it wrong to imagine your best friend joining you in incredible orgasms? Or fucking you into one, Clark wondered. He rolled to his side, pulled up his knees and shoved one hand under his pillow, stuck the other between his thighs and sighed like the wind.
Tomorrow. He'd feel bad about it tomorrow. Right now, his ass felt great and he was still loose and warm and felt like he was made of taffy....
The room got darker, the air warmer, and somewhere in some shiny, bright, happy place, Whit and he played in a big, warm, lavender lake, and gave each other lots of perfect blowjobs and there were apple pies stacked everywhere….
~~~
part two