Chapter Nine by Nora Charles and Ximeria
"Lex, please!" Even if it hadn't been voiced, the pleading look said it all.
Torn between staying and fleeing the dressing room in embarrassment, Lex wisely chose the latter. Fleeing wasn't the right word. Tactical retreat was more like it. Trying hard not to wonder as to why Clark had been... err. Lex hastily disappeared between two racks filled with shirts.
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Clark looked down, seeing the wet sock slide to the floor with a sad plop. Well, the upside was that his hard-on was no longer raging out of control.
'What on earth is wrong with you!?' Clark ran his fingers nervously through his already messed up hair. He couldn't really come up with a plausible reason for his previous state other than it must have been a reaction to the wet denim's slide against his skin. It hadn't really hurt, since, let's face it, he was invulnerable.
As it was now, the only thing he could really do was try on whatever Lex wanted him to. If Lex's interest had been aroused by some hot chick out there, he might lose patience with him and as much as Clark loathed shopping, he really didn't want that to happen. Spending time with Lex was fun and it felt ...good.
Clark held up the two pairs of trunks, choosing, with a deep sigh, the red pair. At least Lex had let him choose and that meant something a little less revealing than the skimpy Speedos. Sadly Gregory's didn't carry anything as gauche as swim shorts so the least revealing swim wear was still rather ...snug.
Resignedly he pulled them on and thanked God and cold, wet socks as he adjusted himself. Ok, time to grab the bull by the horns and let Lex know that it was safe to enter.
'Wait!' That had sounded like a scream of pain; -- and was that the voice of the security guard, telling someone to 'please put down the weapon and let the girl go'? The rest drowned in the racket of people screaming and running, and furniture and coffee cups crashing to the hard floor. It sounded like it came from the coffee shop across the aisle, and like it was out of ms. Ryder's control. Much as he didn't want to, he had to interfere if the safety of innocents was at stake.
Without delay, Clark super speeded out of the dressing room, out of Gregory's, into the coffee shop and behind the counter to stand beside the skinny, young girl with black mascara and eyeliner streaks down her cheeks, who was threatening the barrista with the contents of a hot espresso kettle.
At a glance he took in the situation. In front of the counter stood a young man with Elvis Costello glasses and a goatee. His old faded Mortal Kombat t-shirt was soaked with coffee and cream, and he was pale and shaking. Next to him stood ms. Ryder, one trembling hand extended in a would-be friendly gesture. "He didn't mean to read your poetry and I'm sure he's very, very sorry."
The young man nodded frantically and clutched his X-Force comic. "Um, yeah, i-it was an accident, I swear."
The hysterical teenager tossed her long, black and purple hair back defiantly, the hot espresso percolator swaying dangerously close to the barrista's face, as she shrieked: "Mundane, male chauvinist sheep!" Apparently not noticing Clark standing behind her.
Cautiously but quickly, he pulled the espresso out of her grasp and uncurled her left arm from around the throat of the shocked hostage. Before she could react, he had gathered her hands behind her back in a loose but firm grip.
"What the? Where did you come from?" exclaimed the motherly security guard, giving him an appreciative up and down stare. "Thank you for your help, young man."
The agitated hostage-taker writhed and stomped the spiked heel of her thigh high lace-up boot on his right foot. Clark smiled politely. "You're welcome, ma'am," he said shyly.
With alacrity ms. Ryder snapped her handcuffs around the young troublemaker's wrists. "Now didn't I tell you to get dressed, honey?" With her free hand she shooed Clark in the direction of Gregory's. "Now get your sweet ass back in there and put on some clothes."
Blushing, Clark hurried as fast as he dared back into the oppressive confines of the snobbish haberdashery. Faintly he thought he heard a satisfied "Mmm-hmm, that's the stuff, girl!" behind him.
Clark prayed and hoped that he could make it into the dressing room unnoticed. He found Lex standing among the racks of shirts, back to the door. So far, so good.
"Ooh la la, young monsieur!" Antoine emerged from the back room, immediately spotting Clark.
If Clark had felt uncomfortable with ms. Ryder checking him out, it was nothing compared to how the look Antoine gave him made every hair stand on end and his blush spread from his torso all the way down to his pinky toes.
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Lex was lost in sensual pleasure, as he caressed the soft, soft velvet of the shirts. Soft like Clark's skin, silky like his black hair. 'mmrowrr'. If only... He just had to contain his... enthusiasm a little, so as not to put Clark off.
Hearing Antoine's outburst, he was jarred out of his haze and turned around to see Clark fidgeting and looking lost, absolutely, gloriously naked. Involuntarily, his eyes snapped to Clark's crotch -- Clark's cloth covered crotch. The red of the trunks blended seamlessly with the fiery red of Clark's skin. God, that boy could turn blushing into an Olympic event.
Lex realized with a shock of horror and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, that poor, innocent Clark must have been standing there for several minutes, witnessing his lewd fondling and the glazed look on his face, trying to catch his attention, futilely. He had surely blown it now.
He already knew that Clark felt intimidated by such behavior and hadn't he just been promising himself to go slowly with the inexperienced young man?
Lex cleared his throat and tried to pretend that he didn't feel the awkwardness. 'If you keep calm in a crisis, there is no crisis, my son,' the dry voice in his head said.
"They look good on you, Clark. If they feel comfortable, let's get them," he said smoothly.
That concluded the clothes shopping portion of Lex's campaign . While Clark dressed in a dry outfit, Lex settled the bill with Antoine, this time pointedly leaving out a tip.
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Last stop in the mall: footwear.
This time Clark didn't dawdle, keeping quiet and trailing Lex like a faithful pup. He didn't want to try his friend's patience any further. The swanky shoe store was across the mall from Gregory's and Clark was hyperaware of all the people they passed and their potential for public humiliation of him.
Ominously, nothing untoward happened. The only hint of drama was right outside the shoe store, when a tall, long haired blond guy started frantically shaking a little cardboard box, then patting himself down while his pretty girlfriend looked on in consternation. "Where could it have gone to, I had it just a moment ago." "It probably wasn't a good idea anyway. The cat wouldn't have liked it."
Clark resolutely ignored them, following Lex into the store.
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Lex steered single-mindedly over to the formal footwear wanting to get this torturous shopping expedition over and done with as quickly as possible. He could hardly wait for a nice, calm dinner, in a nice, calm restaurant without any freaky kids with water guns or flirtatious man-boys in tight leather jeans.
Spying an attractive pair of hand sewn Italian shoes on a bottom shelf that looked to be large enough, he bent down to take a closer look. He could feel Clark's comforting and arousing presence behind him and he was once again back in his element.
Lex looked inside for the size but didn't see it. 'Hmmm.' He froze as he became aware of a soft tickling on the back of his head and his neck, sending shivers down his spine. The caress became more firm, clearly that of Clark's warm hand. Score! He knew bending forward in these exquisitely tailored slacks would do the trick.
Grinning madly he shimmied back, rubbing his backside erotically against Clark's thigh. Ah well, not what he'd aimed for, but close enough. Slowly he unbent and turned around, a coy smile on his lips and a gleam in his eyes -- and came face to face with Clark's frozen, flabbergasted expression and the huge, hairy, long-legged tarantula, Clark cradled in his large hand.
"You found her! You found my new pet!" a blond metal-head exclaimed happily in Lex's ear, but all he could hear was Clark's squeaked "..lex?" reverberating in his head.
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Next?
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FEEDBACK: Yeah Baby, Yeah!
DEDICATIONS: To Amy, because we luvs ya. To Stephanie because she's a cutie and we just wanna pet her and give her treats. To Flex Mentallo, because he's a hunka-hunka burnin' lurv. To Jeff and Dawn for the cheese cake taunting. To our live reading audience at the coffee shop for their blush reenactment.
DISCLAIMER: Belongs to Al Gough, except for the man-boy, ms. Ryder and the original characters of this chapter.