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Clark's confession falls into a void of post-coital silence that goes on and on, seemingly forever. Lex stares up at Clark with his face still flushed from round two, his chest rising and falling in a controlled pant. "You want what?"
"It was-" he scrabbles for words to explain, but they jumble together into a string of nonsense even he can't decipher, idea and inspiration and desire getting twisted together.
He stops only when Lex puts a hand over his lips, his own scarred mouth twisting up in a smile that's as dopey and glazed as it is mocking. "It's okay, Clark. I get it." If he's right, then he didn't 'get it' from Clark's attempt at speech. Lex stretches, his legs spreading wider in an invitation that seems right for what Clark wants.
The lube is already next to them in the bed and Lex only holds things up long enough to examines Clark's hands before sending Clark to wash them thoroughly, a command Clark obeys in silence. He doesn't trust his tongue not to slip him up.
When he returns, Lex has shifted on the bed and adjusted the pillows for better support. His legs are splayed, knees bent and feet resting on the mattress. He gestures for Clark to join him, to crawl between his legs and lie over him. Clark does, and is confused when Lex just kisses and pets him. Clark's hands, or hand, are nowhere near the necessary parts of Lex, but then he decides Lex is letting him down easy, telling him without words that Clark got it wrong. It's a disappointment, yes, but Clark is also slightly relieved. He'll ask again, when he's capable of forming the words, and there won't be any misunderstanding between them.
Or so he thinks until Lex pushes him back. "Start with two fingers, like normal. I'm loose, and if it was just your cock, we could go again now, no more prep needed, but..." He pulls one of Clark's hands between them then and places a kiss to the palm, then gives Clark a flirtatious glance from beneath his lashes. "Your hands are bigger. Your fist will be."
Clark stares at his hand, until Lex releases him with a laugh and pushes him away enough to roll up onto his knees. The offering, and demand, is obvious. A dozen questions run through Clark's mind, but he dismisses them. Lex wouldn't suggest it if he wasn't sure, if he didn't want it, or if he didn't trust Clark to do it. His instructions, given in the same voice that's guided Clark before, holds enough confidence that even if Lex doesn't have practical knowledge, Clark can trust he's well-versed in the theoretical.
He lubes up before pressing inside. Lex isn't as tight as he normally is when they start and he's still slick and open. It's nothing at all for Clark to slide his fingers inside, stopping only at the last knuckle, Lex rocking back into his fingers. Clark places a kiss to the small of his back in gratitude. The simple actions of scissoring his fingers and spreading the lube is familiar, but never boring. Not with the way Lex shifts and clamps down on him purposely, not with the sound he makes in his throat. It's not quite a moan, more of a slight humming to show his approval.
There's no verbal cue to add a third finger, but the message gets communicated through Lex's body, another clamping of his muscles, the thrust and tilt of his ass. Clark complies with another dropped kiss, this one on the curve of a cheek.
Together, like that, they work their way up to five fingers. Clark's hard again, but he can't look away from the stretch of Lex's body, can't properly think of doing anything but getting his hand inside. Not quickly; there's no rush, just the thrill of anticipation.
Even with his fingers pressed together and stretched long, thumb tucked there's still resistance at the knuckles, the widest part of his hand. His cock has been where his hand is, but he still doesn't have the words to describe it. Lex shudders and tightens, coming with a keening sound that is new and almost frightening. Clark can't move and his shoulders grow sore from the effort he exerts to keep perfectly still. "Lex?"
"I'm-" Lex's voice is rough. He curses, and asks, "Was that?"
"Close enough," Clark mutters hoarsely. He draws his fingers back out and jacks himself in two strokes. Lex tries to apologize, but Clark moves over him and licks the words out of his mouth. He'd been a little disappointed early, when he'd thought Lex was putting it off indefinitely, but Clark is more than satisfied. "You're perfect."
Lex smirks, eyes closed and chest heaving again. "You're just saying that so I'll let you try again."
It's a joke, one that doesn't really need a reply, but Clark says anyway, "You'd let me try anyway."