by Signe

Rising out of the nothingness of sleep, Lex feels so warm, so good, his senses slowly awakening to a medley of pleasure. First, trembling words melting into his ears, silken forms of syllables, meaningless to his sleep-drenched brain, making a love poem from sounds. Then touch, as hot, slick skin slides over every inch of his back, pushing him down into the soft mattress. Scent next: the rich scent of sex, a reminder if needed of the passion of the night just ended, lingering traces of spring fresh softener in his comforter and sheets, and, overlying it all, the newly discovered scent of Clark. Now sight, as he opens his eyes, slowly, to the uncertain light of first dawn, and lifting his face a fraction, sees one beautiful hand splayed out beside his face. He reaches to taste, a kiss that says `yes' and asks for `more'.

Lex has awakened in many ways, in many places and with many men and women, but never has he felt safe enough to wake so slowly, to savor each and every sensation as his body becomes aware of it. Lying belly down, Clark is sprawled over him, a solid and languid length, still barely awake but already aroused, his heavy penis curving against Lex's buttocks.

Clark answers Lex's kiss with more, a perfect early morning conversation for lovers. He draws lines and vague patterns of kisses on Lex's back, lingering along the snake of his spine, painting Kryptonian glyphs for `love' and `desire' and `mine'. Lex feels the progress of warmth, then the faint chill as the morning air lingers over his moistened skin. He reaches behind him and takes Clark's hand, leading him down until Clark takes over, understanding. He lifts his hips a fraction, allows Clark's large hand entry until he feels it closing around his half erect cock.

There is no rush this morning, no desperation to prove this will work, no first time terror. Just the knowledge that this is how they are meant to wake up, every morning, spooned against each other.

Clark pumps lazily, his hand barely able to move between the bed and Lex's stomach, as he grinds himself against Lex. Lex thrusts into Clark's hand, then curves back into his groin, wanting both sensations, but still too sleepy to need more. There is no rhythm, because it doesn't matter if they come like this or if they stay on this edge for exquisitely painful hours. Time ebbs and flows around them, as they lay entwined, orgasm eventually creeping up on them by stealth, and they come, calling each other's name, only to return into sleep, full of dreams almost as good as the reality.


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