rivers_bend

Title: Take
Words: ~1900
Rating: Adult
Genre: CWRPS
Characters: Tom/Mike
Spoilers: very very very slight for 6:01 Zod
Disclaimer: I don’t know Tom or Mike. I don't really know anything about them beyond that Mike's three weeks older than me and cracks me the hell up in episode commentaries and Tom is married. None of that stuff really comes into play here. Mostly I just like the idea of the pretty. If super-accurate RPS is your thing, this probably isn't. Course, if RPS makes you squick, this isn't your thing either.
Summary: Mike said, "My trailer, or yours?"



"Cut!" Marshall called. "Mike, you want him shamed. Humiliated. Not… Not whatever that face was about. Try again."

Torn between laughing and slapping Tom upside the head, Mike whispered, "Welling, if you don't cut it out, I'm gonna snap that scrawny neck of yours." It was bad enough having Tom on his knees in front of half the crew, Mike didn't need him shoving his tongue into his cheek like he had a mouth full of dick, and looking up through his lashes like that.

"Can't help it. That leather coat does things to me," Tom whispered back.

The clapper/loader called the scene and Mike did his best to look evil. Ignored Tom's teeth digging into his lip and the mocking adoring look on his face. Apparently he was successful, because lunch was called after the take.

Unfortunately there was corn on the cob for lunch, which Tom took great delight in smearing with enough butter to run down his hands. Hands which he then had to lick with relish while he watched Mike watching him, a smile tugging at Clark's innocent features. As if that wasn't enough, there were ice cream sundaes for dessert. Which meant Tom licking his spoon and his lips and even his own chin. Mike was gonna be stuck at the table until the first snow at this rate. Lex's trousers were tent city. This was why Mike preferred jeans. They held things in check.

Mike finally cracked. "You're a fucking asshole. You know that, right?"

"Whose asshole?" Clark was gone. That was pure Tom. Not PR Tom either. The Tom who held Mike down with a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing up against Mike's ass until Mike begged to be fucked.

"My asshole," Mike admitted, glad that they'd found a table in the corner.

Without warning Clark was back. Mike looked up to see a PA approaching. "Change in order, guys. Next call's not til three thirty."

"Thanks, Steve," Tom said.

When Steve was gone, Mike said, "My trailer, or yours?"

"You been to the drug store since last time?" Last time when Tom had got overly enthusiastic with the lube and squirted it all over the floor, making Mike have to tease him about his super-strength until Tom refused to give him a blow-job afterwards and Mike had had to jerk off while Tom showered.

"I might not be a boy scout like you, but that doesn't mean I'm not prepared."

"Your trailer then. Cos I got nothing." Tom threw his flannel shirt at Mike's lap. "And cover that up. You'll scare the extras."

Mike felt ridiculous wearing pressed pants and a dress shirt and carrying Clark's farm-boy flannel, but wardrobe had whisked his coat away as soon as they'd finished shooting, not in the least interested in his wearing it to craft services.

As if he could read Mike's mind, Tom said, "It's a pity they took your coat. I'd a liked to have fucked you in it."

Ridiculous or not, that flannel shirt was a life saver. Cos talking about your dick on national TV is one thing. Letting all the cast and crew know that you're easy for Superman is just tacky.

Mike let himself get distracted by memories of lunch, and the whipped cream on Tom's chin, and was slowed down enough that Tom was already inside when he got to the trailer. Or so he hoped.

"Oy, Smallville, where'd you go?"

"You do realize," Tom's voice came from the bathroom, "pretending to be Lois Lane significantly reduces the chances of getting your dick sucked."

"Got'cha."

Mike heard a crash, plastic and bouncy sounding, like maybe Tom had knocked the toothbrush holder onto the floor, and then something hard hit the wall.

"Fuck!" Tom said.

"You ok in there?"

"Where the hell'd you put the lube, anyway?"

Mike laughed. "When was the last time you saw two guys our size fit in one of those bathrooms? It's out here. Where the chances of your fucking me without one of us spraining something are a lot higher."

Tom came out, rubbing his elbow. "Your toothbrush fell in the toilet. Unlike you, I'm a nice guy. So I'm telling you this, and not just letting you use it."

For a flash of a second Mike considered being insulted, but realized that he totally would just let Tom use the brush, if their positions were reversed. "Shut up," he said. "And, dude. You keep your lube in the john?"

"I just thought, people come in here. Maybe you don't want to leave your Astroglide lying around."

"It's not lying around." Mike reached between the sofa cushions. "It's stored in its proper place." He held it out, but snatched it back when Tom reached for it. "But I thought you were gonna blow me."

"Dunno," Tom said, though the fact that he was kneeling and undoing Mike's pants made Mike think he did know. "You're not nearly as hot without that leather coat."

All the blood which had returned to circulation on the walk back and during Tom's lube hunt remembered where the fun could be had when Tom's hand and lips closed around Mike's dick. "Fuck," Mike said in appreciation. "Never mind the heat vision. This is so your X-man power."

Tom flicked Mike's hipbone in response, but didn't stop the amazing things he was doing with his tongue.

"Ow," Mike said, but more because it was expected than because the flicking actually hurt.

The moan Tom made when Mike gripped his hair gave Mike a pang of jealousy. He loved playing Lex, but Christ, he hated being bald sometimes. As he pulled Tom closer, Tom started pushing Mike's pants down to gather around his ankles. This time Mike was happy to give him the lube when he reached for it.

"Don't you fucking come 'til I've got my dick in your ass," Tom pulled off long enough to say. He sucked Mike down again as he lubed up his fingers. Mike scrabbled behind himself for something to hold onto, latching on to the edge of the counter dividing the living area from the kitchen. Just in time to keep his knees from giving out when Tom pushed into him with two fingers.

"Tom, I—oh fuck."

"No, you don't," Tom said, squeezing fingers tight around Mike's dick and twisting a third finger into his ass.

"Just get up here and fuck me already, will you?"

"That sense of entitlement is going to get you in trouble some day."

Mike was sure he had a witty rejoinder somewhere but it was lost in the sensation of Tom's teeth on his hip and his fingers in Mike's ass.

"Lucky for you, I think I'm entitled to that ass of yours," Tom said

"So why—fuck—" Tom's fingers were as talented as his tongue and it was so not fair. "Why am I not getting lucky here?"

Pulling out, Tom stood and turned Mike to face the counter. "You know the super-speed is only on TV, right?"

Mike didn't say anything, just reached back and pulled Tom forward by the back of the neck, craning around so he could kiss him. Tom's lips were soft and hot and open against his. Mike could feel him undoing his jeans, fumbling against Mike's bare ass. Breaking their kiss, Tom moved down to Mike's jaw, licking and biting down the muscles of his neck until he got to the collar of Lex's shirt. Mike bent over the counter, reaching into the drawer on the other side for a condom. A hand slid under his shirt, up his spine, pushing him hard to the worktop, making his stomach flip in anticipation.

"Do you think they'll let you keep that coat once we're done filming?" Tom was pressing the blunt tip of his cock into Mike's ass, and frankly, a leather coat was the last thing on Mike's mind.

"I'll—fuck, Tom, will you move, damn it—buy a damn coat if it means that much to you."

Tom took his sweet time, pushing in so slowly Mike thought he'd go crazy with it. He wanted to shove himself back onto the cock breaching his ass, but Tom was gripping his hips, holding him fast, and he couldn't do anything but take it.

"You are so hot." Tom paused once he was all the way inside and then pulled out again just as slowly. "I was so close to just sucking you right there in that field."

"That'd give new meaning to the words gag reel."

Tom laughed and shoved back in and then started fucking like he meant it. Everything was fullhotfriction and there wasn't even room to breathe, then Mike got a hand down onto his dick, which somehow made everything focus. He never lasted long when they were like this, but neither did Tom, so he jacked himself hard, in tempo with Tom's thrusts.

"Fucking come. Just. Come," Tom said, jerking Mike back as he drove forwards to meet him.

Mike spilled in his fist, hoping his shirt-tails weren't getting splashed. The last time he'd forgotten to check and had to spend the afternoon with his shirt stuck unpleasantly to his stomach. Which was better than when he'd handed it back wet and wardrobe-Steve had asked if he'd pissed himself and given him that knowing look.

Tom swore as he came, slapped Mike's hip and stumbled backwards to flop down on the couch. "Got any water in here? That's thirsty work."

"You call that work? Bet it's all the butter you had on that corn making you thirsty." Mike pulled up his pants and held the wastepaper basket out for the condom Tom was looking at a loss over what to do with.

"Thanks," Tom said, tucking himself away.

"So." Mike washed his hands in the kitchen sink. "You think Kristen and Ali fuck in their trailers between set-ups?"

Tom didn't say anything and Mike turned to look at him. Tom was staring like Mike had grown a second head. Mike threw him a bottle of water.

"What?" Tom finally asked.

"Or Erica and Ali. Or Kristen and Erica and Ali. God. That would be hot."

"You're kidding."

"You've never thought about it?" Mike was genuinely surprised. "Not even after that episode where they tied you up in the barn?"

"Dude. That's kinda disgusting."

Mike lay a hand on Tom's forehead. "You got a fever or something?"

"I'm pretty sure we shouldn't be thinking about the girls fucking in their trailers."

"I'd bet you money they think about us fucking in our trailers." It wasn't really a fair bet because Allison had actually asked him once, eyes bright, if he and Tom were bumping uglies.

"They are not." Tom looked scandalized.

"Whatever gets you through the night. I swear those Kents have rubbed off on you."

"Think that was you, actually," Tom said, pulling Mike down so he could reach his mouth for a kiss.

"Yeah, ok, it was me." They had half an hour before they had to be back on set, and Mike knew just what he wanted to do with the time.