lady_bug_kay | Supermanfic: Consumer Satisfaction (Clark/Oliver)

Title: Consumer Satisfaction (or, The Best Laid Plans)
Author: ladybugkay
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Clark/Oliver
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1356
Spoilers/Warnings: based off season 8 premiere promo photos. Kind of cracky. Poor writing. Weak humour.
Summary: Wherein Oliver is a good consumer and is suitably enamored of his purchase.
Disclaimer: DC, Warner Brothers, the CW, Gough and Millar, and who knows how many others own the rights. I fic for fun only.
A/N: After seeing pictures from the season 8 premiere that seem to suggest Oliver buying Clark out of a bad situation, I got my first teensy bit of Clark/Oliver inspiration in about a year--which probably explains the weakness of the writing. Sadly, it's been so long I've sacrificed my Oliver icon. Also, this borders on crack. Actually, I think it's crossed the border. (Illegally, but once it got there, it had no intention of leaving.)

“So, I own you, now.”

“Excuse me?”

“You were there, Clark. You saw me give the cash to the nice man with the hygiene problems, and although I didn’t get a bill of sale in return, I did get to take you with me.”

Clark looks as though he doesn’t know whether to be confused or appalled.

Oliver has tried subtlety, he has, but Clark doesn’t seem to be able to detect anything but the most direct advances, so it’s really his fault if Oliver has no choice but to go this route. Besides, it’s fun. He has never been particularly shy about going after something that he wants, and he and Clark seem to be all about surprising outbursts of uncharacteristic candor. Perhaps this bodes well for them.

Sidling a little closer to Clark, Oliver grins. “You’re bought and paid for, my friend. All mine.”

Clark casts a wary glance at the hand on his shoulder, but when he raises his head to meet Oliver’s eyes, his expression becomes unreadable. “How much am I worth, then?”

Biting his lower lip, Oliver cocks his head to one side in feigned consideration. “That’s not an easy question to answer.” He is tempted to say something sickeningly over-the-top about having overpaid for works of art before, but he doesn’t. “Certainly more than I paid for you. Then again, I’m not entirely sure what I got for my money.”

Clark looks again at the hand that has slid down his arm and is now clasped loosely around his wrist. Oliver is perfectly aware of where his hand is, of course, but he sees no reason to remove it when it’s so happy where it is.

And it is happy. Very.

Not as happy as it might be touching some part of Clark a little less accessible to the general public, but still cheerily content.

Both of them stare intently at Oliver’s hand until Clark breaks the silence by asking, “Now that you’ve got me, what are you going to do with me?”

Oliver looks up into those green, green eyes.

Oh, he likes the sound of that, of having Clark. He can appreciate a good phrase when he hears it, and the knowledge of his ownership of Clark, however tenuous the claim, gives him a feeling of intense satisfaction. And the question is a good one, with so many answers and even more layers to those answers: What is he going to do with Clark now that he has him, for as long as he has him? Better yet, what isn’t he going to do with him?

Hmm. So much skin, so little time.

Giving an appreciative once-over of what money can buy if one is very, very lucky and knows where to shop, Oliver says, “Clark, you know, you really shouldn’t ask such open-ended questions.”

He thinks of all the things he could say, the fantasies he could put into words, into actions, but in the end, it is Clark who takes the next step closer, and when one of his large hands covers the curve where Oliver’s neck meets his shoulder, Oliver finds he has to take a deep breath. His equilibrium experiences a significant disturbance, one for which he thought he had been prepared.

But Clark has very large hands. Hands that are warm and strong and feel incredible against Oliver’s skin, making him shudder beneath the weight and the press of each fingertip.

Clark is, without a single sliver of doubt, the best purchase Oliver has ever made.

Ever.

“Mr. Queen,” Clark says in a low voice, focusing Oliver’s attention abruptly and with shocking force, “if you don’t make a move right the hell now, I’m going to demand a refund.”

All the air stutters out of Oliver’s lungs, and he stumbles forward almost involuntarily. This is all going much better and much faster than he predicted or could have expected, and if he’d known Clark would go along so nicely with his plan, he would have been more obvious about his intentions months ago. Possibly as far back as their first meeting.

Clark isn’t saying no, and Oliver doesn’t know quite what to make of that. He had assumed a certain amount of persuasion or enticement would be necessary, yet Clark isn’t saying no or asking to slow down or take a step back. He isn’t diffident or awkward or even shy. No, Clark has taken the ball and run with it, far, far away.

Oliver isn’t complaining.

The first touch of lips is nearly chaste, soft, yet entirely without hesitation.

The second is aggressive, greedy, and wholly carnal, and it turns out Clark Kent can kiss like nobody’s business.

Oliver has kissed rather more than his fair share of people, women and men, in his time, and he knows that Clark hasn’t kissed anywhere near the same number, and yet, it is all Oliver can do to keep up with Clark, with his stroking tongue and soft lips, and the warm, wet inside of his mouth that welcomes him so impatiently. There are teeth and tongues, bites and sucking kisses, and Oliver’s hands clutch frantically at whatever part of Clark he can reach, clinging and caressing where he can, while Clark’s arms hold him firmly against a hard, warm body that seems so much larger now that Oliver is pressed against it.

Everything is more than Oliver expected. Everything is more.

It’s dizzying and overwhelming and so damned good Oliver imagines he can feel his entire body melting, with the exception of a few key areas. And that is why he protests quite vehemently when Clark pulls away, even if it does allow Oliver to get his first full breath in long minutes.

It makes Clark laugh, which shouldn’t be a good thing except for the way it makes his eyes light up, and it is with this realization that Oliver can’t help but wonder when he lost control of this whole situation. Wasn’t he the one making the move and doing the seducing? He is sure he remembers that was the way this all began, with his money and his hand and his flirtation.

Didn’t he have a plan, at some point?

And why the hell did Clark stop kissing him, anyway?

“I’m not changing my mind,” Clark says, and suddenly, the rising tension in Oliver’s body drains away. “But I’d really like to get out of here before this goes any further.”

It takes Oliver a minute to understand Clark’s reasoning, and then, “Right. Yes. Getting out of the country first is a good idea.” He hadn’t intended things to go this far this fast. That’s what he gets for planning for the worst case scenario, though. Clearly, he has been underestimating Clark.

“Come on.” He pulls Clark along behind him, moving with sudden purpose.

Never let it be said that Oliver Queen doesn’t know a good thing when he sees it, or is caught with his pants down without a plan—unless his pants being down is the plan.

In this case, finding somewhere he can get his pants down is the plan.

He might be quite painfully hard and apparently a little stupid with lust when it comes to Clark and every gorgeous inch of Clark’s impressive body, but he is also the Green Arrow and can certainly get them somewhere private, soundproofed, and, given Clark’s unique abilities and propensity for destruction of property, of necessity sturdily constructed.

Because Oliver has other plans; many, many, varyingly pornographic plans, all involving Clark and him and an acute case of nudity.

It looks as if Oliver is going to get far more than his money’s worth out of this particular purchase, and he intends to take advantage of that wonderful fact. In fact, he intends to take every advantage, over and over and over again. And again. With the way things have turned out, it’s almost enough to make him rethink his position on the dangers of a consumer society.

Yes, this is going to be a very good night.

If only he can remember where he parked his damned plane.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

tmelange.livejournal.com

Aieeeee! You wrote Clark/Ollie!!!! And so amazingly! :))

This was one of those stories that had me grinning the whole way through. You should just see me laying on the bed, reading and grinning like loon. You know, I particularly liked Clark's aggressiveness, and the way it shocked Ollie off his game. I always love when you write a Clark-based story because the reader gets such an awe-inspiring picture of Clark that is so much fun for a Clark fangirl. Ollie, in particular, has a great pov on Clark, because he always seems so wowed by him in the show, and with a great writer like yourself handling him, that sense of wonder translates so well into sexual tension. :))

Bravo on this! You write the absolute best kiss scenes, btw. It's one of your fortes, and always leaves me dying for more. :))

From:

this is for the quiet screamers

Supermanfic: Consumer Satisfaction (Clark/Oliver)

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