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IMPROVISE
"I can't find them."
"Well, maybe they're at your place," said Lex, without putting his paper down.
Clark stopped rooting through the drawer in his bedside table and looked at Lex. "Lex. I live here now."
Lex grunted and rattled the financial section, snapping the pages sharply upright in front of his face. It was a familiar gesture, one that meant, 'Stop bothering me with your inane chatter. I am a big important CEO and as such am above these trifles.'
Clark sighed pointedly, and flopped onto the bed. He put a great deal of huff in his sigh, and a whole lot of flounce in his flop, because *that* meant, 'You are ignoring me and do not consider me worthy of your time. Pay attention to me, or I will withhold sex.'
Lex put the paper down instantly and Clark mentally chalked up a point. "When did we last have them?"
Clark sat back on his heels. "Um. Friday? Or - no, wait. Friday we bought the new tank for the fish and you made us sleep in the den so they wouldn't be too disorientated."
"The sofa in there is very comfortable," said Lex defensively.
"Right," said Clark, and leant off the bed to check underneath it again. "Are you sure you haven't moved them?"
"The fish?"
"The handcuffs."
"Where am I going to move a pair of handcuffs to, Clark? The centre of the dining table, perhaps?"
"Maybe you hid them," said Clark, sitting back up, "because you didn't want me to use them on you?"
Lex snorted. "When have I ever stated any objection whatsoever to the use of handcuffs? Or any props, for that matter?"
Clark grinned. "Never."
"My point." Lex fixed him with a thoughtful look. "Hmm. We could always improvise."
"Improvise?"
Lex nodded to the closet. "I'm sure you could find something to tie me down with. Up with. Whatever. C'mon, you're a student. Where's your imagination?"
***
"Is that too tight? I'm not hurting you am I?"
Lex sighed. "Clark, has anyone ever told you that you're a terrible dom?"
"Well! It's easier with the handcuffs! They're custom fitted! Fur-lined! Complete lack of danger of cutting off blood supply to your hands!"
Lex rolled his eyes. "I'm *fine*. Would you just get on with it already?"
"Lex," said Clark, as he scooted down the bed, "has anyone ever told you that you're a terrible sub?"
***
"There now," said Lex, when they were both sticky and sweating and sated, tangled up in rumpled sheets and each other. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?"
"Mmmf," said Clark into Lex's neck. "No."
"Although," Lex continued, "I don't think I'm going to be wearing these ties in public any time soon. Not that I did anyway. They don't go with anything."
Clark cracked open one eye and peered at the ties, earthy rust and pale green still knotted around Lex's wrists and trailing long tongues of colour onto the bedcovers.
"Keep them in the drawer," he suggested, yawning. "In case we lose the handcuffs again."
Lex's least favourite ties got a lot more use after that.
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