• Disclaimer: Oh please.
  • Pairing: Clark/Lex
  • WARNINGS: Textile sex.
  • Spoilers: We can only hope.
  • Thank you to Carene for beta.
  • Started: 3/3/04
  • Feedback: mog@pacific.net


by C.M. Decarnin

"How would you like me in black velvet?" Clark had pushed close; Lex's mouth went dry. A velvet shirt he could feel Clark through. Black, his hand so pale.

"Just the shirt...?"

"Nothing else on? Or some other kind of pants? Velvet and jeans?" Denim between his thighs. His naked thighs. Or only the shirt, black velvet hanging down to touch their, both their, naked thighs...

"Fuck." Breath hard, his chest expanding against Clark's.

"Do they make silk pants?"

Between his thighs. Ah. Fuck. His hand on silk on Clark's ass.

"All talk, farmboy?"

Tugging Clark's snap. Smelling clean flannel.



This drabble was inspired by Carene, as she knows damn well. And a little bit by the Telly Savalas/Black Velvet Canadian Whiskey billboard that Mark Pauline changed from "Feel the velvet, baby." to "Feel the pain, baby." Now, I had a slashy Kojak scenario in my head already back then, so when I actually saw this billboard, the original, totally unexpectedly and unforeseen, I never forgot it -- it was visible from the freeway over San Francisco's Folsom (gay leather & S/M) District. And guess what, all these years later, it's Googlable! Well, not the actual image, but to find out more about it, you can go to:


The article has some hilarious stuff in it -- the word "spokesconvict" alone is priceless. The magazine ad you can find online isn't the same image, I'm almost positive on the billboard Savalas was lounging semi-horizontally. But that could be just my fevered remembrance.