Title: "Grinding It Into Third" (part 1)

Author: bipolypesca

Archive: ask first, please

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: The following piece of writing is a fantasy.  It never happened.  It has nothing to do with Smallville or the CW or any of the creators of any of the permutations of the characters mentioned.  It is no different than writing down a dream I had about a TV show in my dream journal and then sharing that dream journal with my friends via an LJ post.  It is no different than talking in a public forum about how much better a movie would have been if it had ended a different way than it did and then lining out that different way.  I don't make money from my fantasies, nor any other gain but to hear what other people of like mind think of said fantasies.  And no one has domain over my fantasies nor how I choose to express them.

Feedback: Only if you're honest. Chocolate and champagne are always nice, but only if it's honest chocolate and champagne. I'm a sucker for good constructive criticism.

Warnings: Plot ruthlessly sacrificed for porn.  Slash.  Angst.  Cancel your appointments, honey.  This one's novella length.

Spoilers: Watch up to Prodigal first.

Prequels: Third in the "Manual Transmission" series (MTS).  Go home for the first two.

Sequels: The next in this continuing series is "Grinding It Into Third, part 2."  Link at the bottom.

Summary: Not every shift is a smooth one.  Transmissions tend to stick, gears tend to grind...











Dedication:

To V.  May a harem of worshippers bow at your musely feet.










(Please note that this fic has not been beta'ed, and any errors, glaring or otherwise, are strictly mine, as is any and all bad quality.)


Grinding It Into Third
byline: bipolypesca
creation date: January/February 2006

*      *      *      *      *      *


Stop.  Stop.  Stop!

Oh.

No.  Oh, don't stop.

Don't stop.  Don't stop.  Don't stop, don't stop, don't—!

Oh!

He felt a violent, jerking shudder that he had no input in, and that terrified him.  He ripped his hands away—had to get them off, had to hurry.  His fingers were talons, digging into the upholstery, and even as he came he couldn't stop thinking, Please don't rip, please don't rip, please don't rip...

The shudder was past, but more were looming, very nearly breaking the shore.  He had to be still.  He had to tighten himself up.  He had to get still!

"Are you all right with this?"

No.  No, no, no, it wasn't all right.  Not if he couldn't stay still.  Not if he couldn't stay hands off.

"Clark?"

Lex tried to shrug him out, but—no.  He couldn't move.  Not yet.  Not and hold off all of the other shudders that threatened.  He chastised himself internally to be careful—he was digging his face far too hard into Lex's soft, thin, easily bruised shoulder.

"Clark, I'm sorry.  Are you okay?"

There were words directed at him.  He heard a semblance of speech, but wasn't ready to concentrate on it.  Not yet.  All of his focus stayed on not moving, on stillness, on control.  His neck felt weakly tugged at, and he clamped ever more still.  Then he realized that tugging was Lex trying to get him to lift his head.  All at once, his muscles went limp and he allowed himself to be moved without struggle.

He was afraid to open his eyes, see what he might have done—see what he might have done without even realizing it.

But Lex was talking.  Lex was moving and touching his face.  He sounded okay.  He felt okay.

"Clark...?  Did you just...?"

"I'm sorry."  Oh, god, I'm so sorry.

He tore away too quickly, pushed into Lex's chest too hard, clamped down on himself again as his mind screamed to stay still.

"I'm sorry.  I was trying not to."

He'd had restraint.  He'd had restraint for so long... where was it?

Clark groped for it.  Stretched for it.  Saw it, finally, tenuous and breakable, and reached for it with trembling hands without ever moving a muscle.

"Trying not to...?"

His control had broken so suddenly, so easily.  "You kept rubbing your leg on... you know," as if it had been his fault.  His fault Clark had lost control, his fault Clark had forgotten to be careful.  Such lies.  Always lies.  It wasn't Lex's fault.  "I'm really sorry."

Lex's hands were warm and soft on his back.  He was careful not to jerk away nor into them.  He just stayed still.  He just held on to the brittle internal containment he'd found.  Containing himself kept people safe.  It always had.

"Sorry?  Don't be sorry.  I didn't realize... Are you all right?"

You are—I am.  Yes.  Yes.  "Yeah."

Then Lex was shaking against him.  Skin so thin, ribs so close, everything so weak.  Clark moved carefully with it.  Softened enough to move with the laugh, then stiffened again.

"Do you want to go clean up?"

He did.  He wanted to get away.  Get away fast.  Careful... but fast.

But it was so unfair, and he knew it.  Only him, and not Lex.  But he prayed Lex wouldn't ask him.  He couldn't.  He couldn't possibly hold on to this wisp of self-discipline while— "What about you?"

There was more laughing.  He remembered to move with it.  To soften.  To flow with it.  "Trust me, Clark, I couldn't be more satisfied."

Oh, god, thank you.  Thank you, thank you for understanding even when you don't.  Couldn't possibly.

He tightened his control, increased his stiff stillness.  He catalogued every placement of every muscle and every particle of strength he'd have to expend to get up, and where to put it so it wasn't dangerous.  He plotted his move for nearly a minute.

Then he got up.  Got up and concentrated on getting far enough away.

He made sure not to look.  Looking at Lex could, even would, steal what he'd gotten back of his control.  Looking at Lex stole his power.

Don't look.  Go.


*


Clark shut the bathroom door carefully behind him and leaned back against it.  He exhaled... and slumped.  He was finally able to feel heavy and loose and not have to worry about his weight's effect on soft skin and fragile bones and thin veins close to the surface.  If he hurt a door... he could fix it.

Being alone gave him the permission to breathe—to pant, even—and to relax and try to come back to himself.  He leaned into the frame, breath coming fast and hard, and shook his head to clear it.  His legs felt like rubber when he stood up and walked slowly to the sink.  They weren't tired, of course.  But there was such an extreme difference between having to keep as still as possible and now suddenly being allowed to move more naturally.

He found a clean washcloth and soaked it in warm water.  Opening the fasteners of his jeans with one damp, shaking hand, he worried about the small dark spot on the front and how quickly it would or wouldn't dry.

Most of the mess had gone onto his underwear, and some had spurted past and then gone right through the denim.  He dabbed at his belly and pulled back his foreskin to swipe away all the stickiness clinging there.

There was some white goo on the inside of his jeans, and he was torn between trying to get it off because it was gross, and leaving it alone because the wet washcloth might soak through and make his pants look even wetter.  He finally decided on swiping the worst of it away with toilet tissue and leaving the thin layer of sticky residue behind.

Shaking his head at the momentary and ridiculous thought of sprinkling some of Lex's cologne down there to cover up that strong musky smell, he dabbed himself dry with more tissue and zipped his pants back up.  Clark watched himself in the mirror as he washed his still slightly trembling hands.  The blush was draining out of his face.  But noticing that made him remember why the blush was there to begin with, and then the thing was suddenly twice as bright.

If anyone had asked him what the afterglow was like, he couldn't have said.  He didn't have a floaty feeling or a kind of euphoria.  He felt guilty, and relieved, and frightened about what else was going to be expected of him.

God, he never should have started this!  Okay, yes, it had happened—he'd tried not to let it happen, but it had happened—and Lex was okay.  Clark hadn't seized up and crushed Lex's body in his hands like he worried he might.  Clark hadn't lost complete control of himself and broken bones or skin—not even furniture.  Yes, it happened—something he'd worried he should probably never do with anyone—and no, the world hadn't come to an end.

But it wasn't fair, was it?  It wasn't fair to Lex.  Lex had no idea what he'd gotten himself into.  Lex had no idea what kind of danger he was in.  As far as Lex was probably concerned, they were just making out.  They were just kissing and touching and doing normal things that normal people in normal relationships did.  He had no clue that he was, in effect, a virgin alien's sexual guinea pig.

Clark had seen a documentary on TV once.  It was one of those sex documentaries that, if it wasn't educational, would have totally been soft porn.  But, that was why teenagers (and adults, really) watched them.  And that was why they were on after eleven.

The scientist had described an orgasm as a pleasurable seizure.  A seizure.  A seizure is an uncontrollable muscle spasm.  Uncontrollable.  Without control.  That was what it had felt like, too, for those brief few seconds, like Clark was completely out of control.  That was fine if he was alone.  He couldn't hurt himself, not even if he tried.  He was so indestructible, even his own massive strength couldn't penetrate his skin or break his bones.

But what about having an uncontrollable muscle spasm in the presence of another person?  In the presence of Lex?  Clark was playing roulette with Lex's safety for his own selfish pleasure.

But Lex hadn't broken, had he?  He'd been laughing; he'd been happy it had happened.

That was no excuse, though.  Lex didn't know what he was getting himself into.  Lex didn't know how close he might have been to getting hurt or even killed because Clark didn't have more self-control.  Quite frankly, Lex just didn't know any better.

There was nothing else for it.  Clark couldn't keep putting Lex in this kind of danger.  It just wasn't fair.  It wasn't right.

If he couldn't be careful, then they could just go back to how it was.  To how it had been before.  He couldn't ever let it go this far—not with Lex, not with anyone.  Not ever again.  Clark simply wasn't willing to risk him.


*


When he walked back into the den, Lex was still lying on the couch, shirtless and grinning, and he was stretching.  Clark was torn between moving into the room slowly because he was so incredibly embarrassed about what had just happened in there, or running into the room quickly because at any moment a staff person might go by behind him and see him standing there without a shirt on, looking all flushed.

He settled for a middle ground, creeping into the room at a slower pace than normal, but faster than he actually wanted to.  Lex must have heard him come in, and if not, he would've had to have heard the door click back closed, but he didn't cut his stretch off.  He might have even elongated it.

Lex's body came up in an arch off the sofa, no part of his back touching the cushions, he was just balancing there on his shoulders and tailbone.  He made some kind of a sound in his chest, not a groan or anything undignified, just a low, pleasurable sound that made Clark's stomach flutter.

While Clark's legs wanted to walk closer, his knees wanted to melt, and he gave in to leaning back against the door and watching Lex twist.  First this way, then that, eyes closed and small smile on his lips the entire time.  He had to have known Clark was watching him.  He had to have known what he was doing to him.

"Mm—Hey, Clark."

Clark tried to smile, but couldn't do that and meet Lex's eyes at the same time, so he lowered his gaze.  "Hey," he said, nearly whispering at the floor.  He felt his face heat.

A soft chuckle reached his ears.  "Are you gonna stay over there for the rest of the night?"

Clark almost pushed off from the door, then didn't, and simply shrugged.  His face got hotter when he realized what a childishly aborted movement it had been.

"Shall I get someone to move the sofa over there?"

Finally letting a laugh break through, Clark shook his head and walked over, hands quickly finding their way into his hip pockets.  He glanced up to find Lex scooting back, making room for him on the couch.  Clark slid into place with a natural ease that came from months of practice.  It was a lot easier to meet Lex's gaze then, when his face filled Clark's whole vision.  Easy to kiss him, too, and to hold him close again.  Everything seemed easier the closer they got.  Everything except restraint.

"Sorry about that."

Lex kissed the corner of his mouth and leaned back just barely, smirking lips inches from his own.  "About what?  Lurking by the door?  I wouldn't mind rearranging the furniture to accommodate you, you know."

Clark chuckled.  "Um, thanks.  But I meant... for earlier.  That was kind of rude, I guess."

"Sex is seldom polite."

Clark actually felt himself flinch in Lex's arms before he began to just stare openly.  ‘Sex’?  He hadn't thought about calling it ‘sex.’  Had that been what had actually happened?  Some form of sex?  If he'd had to put a term to it, Clark supposed he'd probably have called it ‘premature ejaculation.’

"What is it, Clark?"

"...‘Sex’?"

Lex blinked, smiled a little wider.  "Well, what would you call it?"

Clark swallowed and avoided Lex's eyes.  It wasn't a phrase he wanted to share.  "Um... making out?"

"‘Making out.’"  Lex's amusement was plain in his voice.  "So, what is it that we've been doing up until this point?" he asked curiously.

Clark rubbed at the back of his neck.  "Uh... making... out?"

Lex laughed.  "I'm not sure they can both be ‘making out.’  I seem to have noticed a marked difference between what happened last week and what happened just now."

Clark shrugged and wrapped his arm back around Lex's shoulder.  "Finishing making out?  Half finishing making out?"  Lex laughed and Clark smiled sheepishly.  "I don't know.  It just doesn't seem like sex is the right word."

Lex shrugged fluidly.  "All right.  Then it wasn't sex."

Clark scoffed, and met Lex's eyes again, grinning.  "Well, come on, either it is sex or it isn't.  We can't just arbitrarily decide if—"

"Everyone draws their own lines, Clark," Lex said easily.

Lex was still smiling at him, calm and accepting, looking like he'd not be at all offended if Clark said that what they'd just done was so far removed from sex, it wasn't even in the same galaxy cluster.  He lay there still and open, as if he was just waiting for Clark to decide... what they were.

"I guess it was more than making out," Clark said quietly, gaze on Lex's chest.  "But... I'm... not exactly sure how to categorize it."

Lex made another fluid move of his arm, and was holding Clark more securely.  "Then don't.  Orderly categorization is overrated, anyway."

Clark laughed quietly.  "Is that your business strategy?" he asked wryly.

Lex paused and looked a bit thoughtful for a second.  "Actually... it is, in a way."

Clark almost asked another question, then realized that Lex was referring to the restraining practice of pigeonholing, and he kind of ‘got’ it.  He nodded just to indicate he understood what Lex wasn't saying.

"Well, whatever it was or wasn't," Lex said, rubbing at Clark's arm, "it was nice.  Yeah?"

Clark tried to just nod, tried to just be cool.  But then he broke unexpectedly into an absurd, goofy grin, and hid his face in between Lex's neck and the couch in embarrassment.

Lex chuckled quietly and rubbed warm hands over his back.  "Yeah," he said drolly, "I thought so, too."


*


Clark eyed himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth methodically.  As he watched, his expression turned into something accusing.

The brushing slowly came to a stop.  He finally took the toothbrush out of his mouth and watched himself more intently.  "Procrastinator," his reflection said, slurring around the foam.  He nodded once, satisfied at this truthful proclamation, and then started to brush again.

His eyes narrowed farther and farther at himself until he was ready to rinse and spit, then resumed doing the same thing when his head rose again.  "You're really a selfish jerk, you know," he informed himself.  His reflection didn't cower away from this assessment.

"You said you were gonna stop for Lex's sake.  It's been over a week.  This'll be the third meeting since then.  What the hell are you doing?"

With no answer forthcoming, Clark finally sighed and resolved to stop talking to himself in the mirror.  Which, if current trends held, meant he would continue to talk to himself in the mirror for at least another week.

He didn't know why he kept putting this off—well, he knew why, of course.  He didn't want to do it.  He didn't want to say what he'd promised himself he'd say for Lex's sake.  He didn't want to shift down, he wanted to shift up.

"Selfish, selfish, selfish," he muttered, wiping at stray droplets with a hand towel.

But his self-restraint twitched restlessly every time they got hot and heavy.  Every time, it got closer and closer to the breaking point, making the entire situation more volatile, more dangerous.

Lex was worth more than that.  He had to do it to-night.  He couldn't stall anymore.

God, he was really going to miss it—miss it something awful.  But it was the right thing to do.  They were strong.  They could backtrack.  They had to be able to.  Clark needed the breathing room.  And Lex, whether he knew it or not, needed Clark to have it.


*


Lex flattened his tongue out and brushed it firmly.

His eyes sparkled as he watched himself in the mirror.  If he hadn't already known what he was thinking about, he would have realized it just from the happy caginess in his reflection.

It'd been over a week now since his relationship with Clark had made that last subtle shift with a shudder and a choked off groan.  It hadn't happened since, but that wasn't any kind of a deterrent as far as Lex was concerned.  It had taken them a long time to get to where they'd gone, and he wasn't naïve enough to believe that the rest was all now going to happen overnight.

He rinsed, spat, and opened up a new bottle of mouthwash.

But lately, he could feel Clark struggling to hold back every time they were together.  His body tightened and vibrated as if he was straining to not let things happen.  Whether it was instinctual, whether it was guesswork, Lex could feel quite plainly that Clark was ready.  He could feel that Clark wanted something other than what they were experiencing together now.  He could feel that it was time for more.

Every time they met, it was like they got just a little closer together: Just a little hotter, just a little more intense, just a little better.

He spat, rinsed, and spat again, and smiled at himself in the mirror.

It was time for the next step, even if it was a small one.  He was sure of it.

If Lex had anything to say about it, there would be more than shirts coming off this night.


*


Lex sighed onto Clark's cheek and opened his eyes slightly to the sight of a tensely furrowed brow hovering just in front of him.  He finally gave in.

"What is it, Clark?" he asked, after their kiss had been broken for the third time without becoming deep or going anywhere.  Not for lack of trying.  But Clark seemed distracted.  "Is something on your mind?"

Clark half smiled, half shrugged, and half kissed Lex yet again.

Lex accepted it, and smiled back softly, trying to express that he was listening.

Clark half shrugged again and his fingers trailed aimlessly up and down Lex's back.  Lex's skin bloomed goose bumps instantly.  "I don't know.  I was just thinking, I guess."

Lex adjusted his head on the cushion and ignored the soft, inviting sensations on his bare flesh.  "What about?  Do you want to talk about it?"

Yet another shrug.  His lips ghosted over the corner of Lex's mouth.  "Yeah.  Do you mind?"

This time Lex shrugged.  "Schedule for the night says quite plainly, ‘Clark Kent.’  Not only do I not mind, I planned for it."

Clark laughed.  The arms around Lex became looser, and the hand tracing patterns on his back moved to a shoulder instead and stilled.

"Do you ever wish things were different?"

Lex searched his eyes, looking for unspoken meaning.  "Everyone does sometimes.  Different how?"

"Like, yourself.  You know?  Like, do you ever wish that you were... different.  I mean... more... suited to something.  Like, do you ever wish that you were made for something that you know in your heart you're not?"

Lex felt his brow tighten.  "I suppose so.  Sometimes.  ...What are you trying to get at?"  Clark shrugged and Lex wrapped a hand around his biceps.  "Hey, you know you can tell me."

"Yeah.  I just... I don't know.  Sometimes I just wish we could go back to the way it was in the beginning.  You know?"

Lex flinched.  His face went suddenly smooth.  A sharp pinprick of realization stabbed him at the base of his skull.  A net of understanding began to slink menacingly outward from it.  He didn't breathe.  "‘In the beginning,’" he repeated.

"Yeah."

"The way it was... in the beginning."  Lex could not feel his heart beating.

Clark looked vaguely uncomfortable.  "Yeah."  He rubbed at Lex's arm lightly.  "I just— you know, back when it wasn't so, um... complicated," he finished with a quiet laugh.

Lex tried to smile.  It felt more like a twitch.  His skin was suddenly burning hot and prickling.  He wanted to get up and away—far away, quickly.  He forced himself to remain still.  "You want us to go... back."

"I don't know.  Just, you know, when things were simple?  When it was easier?  I just think about it.  Sometimes.  But... I worry that... maybe we couldn't do it.  You know?  I'm kind of afraid that if we tried, it would all fall apart."

"If we tried going... back to the beginning."  Lex just kept repeating it, not only aloud, but over and over and over in his head.  Clark wanted to go back to the beginning.  Clark didn't want this anymore.  Clark wanted their old relationship back.

God.  He'd failed.

What had he done wrong?  Was he moving too fast?  Too slow?

"I guess it wouldn't work, huh?  I mean... do you think if we tried... we'd lose everything?  Maybe we wouldn't even be able to be friends anymore?"

Didn't he make his interest obvious enough?  Didn't he pique Clark's enough?  Was he too impatient?  Too patient?  Was Clark angry that they'd decided to hide?  Should Lex have offered to out himself?

He squeezed Clark's shoulder.  "Clark, I'll always be your friend," he said quietly, his voice soft.

Clark smiled.  "That's really good to know," he said.  He looked satisfied.  He looked okay with it all.

It didn't feel like it had been that long: Not even four months.  But maybe it was long enough for Clark to decide who he was.  And apparently he wasn't... this.

But back to the beginning?  Back to friends and pool and advice on women?  Could Lex do that?

More to the point, if Lex couldn't do that... could he stand to lose it all?

"We can, Clark," he whispered.

"What?"

Lex took a deep breath.  Let it out slowly.  "We can... go back to how it was in the beginning.  If that's... what you want."  His words were careful, tentative.

Clark's eyes lit up.  He smiled.  "Really?" he asked hopefully.  "That would work?  I mean, it wouldn't be... it wouldn't be weird or anything?"

Lex shook his head slowly, feeling his neck muscles struggle against him.  "No.  No, of course not."  He searched Clark's eyes for a long moment, then gripped his shoulder in a strong and manly way.  "I don't want to continue anything that you're not comfortable with," he said clearly.  "We can certainly go back to the way things were in the beginning.  If that's what you want."

Clark hesitated, looked ready to ask a question, then didn't.  He nodded.  "I do," he said confidently.  "I really think that would be best, Lex."

Lex opened his mouth, still deciding between agreeing and asking why, when Clark suddenly sat up, pulling Lex with him.  They sat, torsos bare, next to one another on the sofa.  The prickling heat on Lex's skin vanished to be replaced with an ugly chill that crept like a thousand spider's legs over his body.

He was conscious of Clark watching him as he reached with controlled motions for his shirt and put it back on.  "I'm glad we talked about this, Clark," he said, voice neutral and calm, while he buttoned it.  "I want you to know that you can always be honest with me."

He glanced up to find Clark's smile fading.  Then it came back, a little less than what it had been.  "Thanks, Lex.  You're not upset, are you?"

"No, of course not."  Lex squeezed at Clark's knee once, but didn't leave his hand there.  "I'm glad that you told me how you feel.  It's important to..." he trailed off, shrugged finally.  "I'm not upset, Clark."

Lex was getting ready to get up, to show Clark out, when he was unexpectedly wrapped up in a tight hug: Clark's arms around his back, Clark's hair right under his nose, Clark's warm breath on his neck.

Lex's eyes and throat burned.  He clamped it back and held Clark as gently as he could.  Internally, he despaired, but his body didn't yet comprehend the difference.  Everything responded to the closeness.  Every pore, every centimetre of skin tingled and felt alive and grew warm.  Every part of him wanted more.

"Thanks a lot for understanding," Clark murmured into his neck, and kissed him there once, quickly.

Lex shivered and hoped Clark hadn't felt it.

"I'd better go."  He leaned back just as suddenly as he'd leaned in, smiled, got up, and began to dress.

Lex watched him in silence, working the tightness out of his throat so that he could speak in case it was required.

"Is Thursday good?"

‘Good for what?’ he almost said, then realized Clark was trying to set up the next time they would spend together.  Thursday was only two days away.

Two days to get used to this change?  Lex simply couldn't move at that speed.  "Uh... I'm... going to be in Metropolis on Thursday," Lex lied, and made a mental note to go.

Clark paused after tying one shoelace, said, "Oh," and did the other.  "Okay.  Friday?"

"I might be away for a couple of days.  Why don't you let me call you when I'm back, all right?"

Clark smiled, looking unconcerned.  "Okay, that works," he said with a nod, and looked around himself as if to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.  He checked his watch.  "Shoot, I gotta go.  Call me, right?"

Lex nodded numbly, and offered a three fingered wave as Clark bade him good-bye and rushed out the door.

Lex's hand curled and fell slowly to his lap, and he eventually looked away from the closed door.  He sat, quite still, on the sofa for many minutes.  He didn't cry or sob or otherwise make a fool of himself to the empty den.

After a long quiet time of consideration, he simply got up and walked very steadily across the room to the place where his Waterford Julia vase was displaying a bouquet of butter yellow Asiatic lilies.

They weren't the flowers that Clark had given him, of course.  Those had died.  But Lex had decided to keep buying the same bouquet over and over, to make sure that that vase was always full of those flowers.

This bouquet was new, not even a day old.  It smelled wonderful; it was perfect in every way.  Perfect like the flowers Clark had given him.

Lex reached up to touch one of the petals gently, feel its incredible natural softness against his skin.  But that never happened.

Instead, he picked the substantial crystal up, and flung it across the room with all his strength.  It shattered into a thousand beautiful, dangerous pieces against the far wall.

After the sound died, he still did not cry.  He did not sob.  He did not scream.

He drank.

It was only after several hours of this that he cried.


*


Clark swung himself elatedly over the fence that marked off his family's property and continued at a good clip to the back door.

I did it! he wanted to scream.

Came right out with it—‘back to the beginning’—and Lex was fine with it!  Lex completely underst—well, he didn't actually understand.  He couldn't know why, so he couldn't actually understand it, but he understood it in his own way.  He understood it in an ‘all right, if that's how you feel, Clark,’ kind of a way.  And that was plenty.

Clark greeted his parents, made a modicum of small chat, and hightailed it up to his room.

Come Friday, or the weekend, or whenever Lex got back from Metropolis, things would go back to when it was easier, when they were less complicated.  Then everything would be all right.  Clark would have control of himself, Lex wouldn't be in danger anymore, and they'd be okay.

Lying on his bed, grinning madly at the ceiling, Clark wondered why he'd put it off for so long.

Then he very suddenly remembered why.  His grin faded.

Yeah.  He was sure gonna miss it.


*


Clark scowled at the phone in between geometry problems.  Why wasn't it ringing?  In fact, why hadn't it rung all weekend?  Why was it now Monday night and he was still waiting for it to ring?  What was going on in Metropolis to keep Lex away so long?  And why didn't he at least call to say how much longer it was going to be?

Ring!

Clark jumped and fumbled with the handset before he got it clicked on.  "Hello?" he said, his expectant smile coming through in his tone.

"Hey, Clark."

His smile fell in disappointment.  "Oh.  Hi, Pete."

"...Yeah.  It's great to talk to you, too, man."

Clark laughed quietly and sat up in bed.  "Sorry.  I was distracted.  What's up?"

"Dude, I am so bored.  Save me."

"Heh."  Clark glanced down at his geometry book.  "I have a little more homework to do, actually."

"Clark, that's really not saving me."

Clark laughed out loud this time.  "Half an hour?"

"Cool.  See ya."

"See ya."  He clicked the phone off and stared at it hard.

Ring, he thought at it demandingly.

It didn't.

With a sigh, he finally gave in and dialed Lex's cell number.


*


Lex pressed a palm to his temple as a shrill ring cut menacingly through the once blessed quiet of his penthouse.

He'd only gotten in the door at six this morning.  He was still nursing a hangover quite emphatically.

He tapped around his clothes on the floor as frantically as he could while still being incredibly sluggish until he found the screaming mobile.  His vision was blurred, so when he stabbed at the Off button, he managed to hit the Send button instead.

The line opened, and he very nearly just hung back up.  Then, against his better judgment, he put the thing to his ear.

He listened for a second to the open quiet.  "Lex Luthor," he finally croaked without enthusiasm.

"Wow, Lex, are you sick?"

With a twist of his wrist, Lex turned the mouthpiece away so he could sigh thickly into his pillow.

"...Lex?"

"Clark, things aren't..." he trailed off, tired eyes travelling over half empty bottles of liquor, Special K inhalers, and a few leftover tablets of XTC, "...going very well here right now."

"Really?  What's wrong?"

Lex sighed into his pillow again, struggling to think.  "Nothing I can go into," he said, working hard to lessen his slur.  "Is this important?"  He pulled the blanket tighter around himself.  "I'm very busy at the moment."

"Oh.  No.  Sorry.  Um... just checking to see when you're gonna be back.  Um... when I can... see you?"

"I told you I'd call you, Clark," Lex mumbled to avoid snapping.

"Right."  There was a little pause.  "Okay.  Well, good luck.  Be safe, and come home soon.  Okay?"

Lex softened a little, and one corner of his mouth actually considered twitching up for the briefest of moments.  He squelched the urge.  "All right.  Bye, Clark."

"B—"

Lex flipped the phone closed and dropped it carelessly back onto the floor.  He cuddled more firmly into his pillows, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head and the churning in his stomach.

The weekend was over.  He'd skipped out on work again without telling anyone.  He wasn't sure where he was going to find another hot, frantic party once night fell and, quite frankly, he didn't know if he could take it.

He felt like shit.  He'd lost millions of brain cells.  Made acquaintances in public that were incredibly bad for his image.  Spent obscene amounts of money on designer drugs.  Let his business suffer for his absence for the last four days.

And none of it had helped a goddamn bit.

Lex spent several minutes lying there, fuzzily considering this bit of information.  Then, determined, he finally forced himself out of bed.

He stumbled down the hall, opened the appropriate door, went inside, fell to his knees, and puked everything but his pancreas out into the toilet.


*


Lex stared icily at his computer screen as he typed.  Teeth grinding tight together, eyes sore and swollen, entire being feeling completely numb, he worked.  He worked, and worked, and worked.  He'd worked for days.  He'd worked for weeks.  He'd worked for years.  At least it felt like it.

The report was superfluous—unnecessary.  And yet he needed to do it.  He'd never been so caught up.  He'd never been so far ahead.  But he couldn't stop.  He didn't want to stop.  He wanted to just work forever.  Because as long as he was thinking about work, there wasn't room for anything else.

Since returning from his little pity-me trip to Metropolis, he'd been concentrating on his business so fully, so completely, that his stock was now rising steadily every day.  He'd made several gutsy and ingenious decisions that had shown immediate results.  Production and profits never looked better all the way across the board.  Hell, if he did this for another decade he'd own the world.  He'd been thinking he might just go ahead and do that.

Thusly focussed, he didn't even look up when the door opened.  "Just put it down somewhere," Lex muttered, no longer interested in the tea he'd ordered.  He barely even registered the slight clatter as the tray was placed on the coffee table.  There it would probably stay for the rest of the night.

He waited without interest for the click of the door going back closed, but it didn't come when he expected it.  After another minute, he finally tore himself away from the screen to scowl as he pressed his intercom button to order his door put back the way it had damn well been found.

"Polly," he snapped.

"Yes, Mr. Luthor."

"Tell whoever the hell brought my tea to get b—"

"Lex."

Lex's head snapped up, the tendons in his neck protesting, as they'd been in a stationary position for hours.  His jaw slackened.  "Clark."

Clark smiled slightly, as if unsure, and his eyes flitted toward the intercom where the channel was still open.

Lex started in place and let it go.  Belatedly, he remembered he'd been in the middle of a conversation, and pressed the call button again.  "Never mind, Polly," he muttered.

"Sorry if I'm interrupting," Clark said when Lex had sat back in his chair.  "But you've been so busy... I mean, we haven't seen each other in forever.  Thought I'd better be, um... a little more aggressive or something.  Sorry."

Lex's gaze shifted toward the tray of tea and finger sandwiches sitting on the coffee table by Clark's shins.  "They let you bring that in?"

Clark shrugged.  "I sort of told them that you'd be okay with it.  Unless I spilled it.  Which I didn't."

"Right."

Lex was aware now... that he wasn't ready for this yet.  As flippant as he'd been with his response to Clark's decision, and as much as he knew that he'd rather have Clark in his life as a friend than not have him all, he just wasn't ready to make a stable shift back to friendship.  He needed more time.  He needed more distance.  He needed to put a couple of quick, meaningless relationships between himself and his affair with Clark.  He needed to change a little before he could dive headfirst into the past and force it to become the present.

"You looked like you were concentrating really hard.  I have bad timing, huh?  Do you want me to go?"

Yes.

"No.  No, of course not.  This isn't important," he said truthfully, gesturing toward his computer.  "You're right.  It's been a while since we've... had a chance to talk.  Why don't you have a seat?"

Clark glanced at it, then back at Lex, and he quirked an eyebrow slightly before it smoothed again.  "Um, no, that's all right."  He started walking around the room, making it look random, which it probably was.  "How've you been?" he asked casually.

"Fine," Lex lied.  "Fine.  You?"

"Okay.  Heard LexCorp is doing really well."  He was by the liquor cabinet now, looking at one of the crystal decanters, but not chancing picking it up.

"Yes.  Things are going well."

"That's good."  He fingered the corner of the cabinet then shoved his hands into his jean pockets and walked closer to Lex, wearing a nervous smile.  "Miss me?"

Lex blinked, even winced.  "I... sure."

It was hardly a compliment.  But Clark did blush a little just the same.  "Missed you, too."

He'd crossed the room now and wasn't far from Lex at all.  Still blushing, almost flirting.  Was this how it was going to be then?  They'd go back to how it was, but Clark was going to keep using all the things he'd learned?  That was hardly fair.

Lex had opened his mouth to say something to that effect when Clark suddenly bent forward and kissed him flush on the lips.

For a second—a brief, confused second—Lex pushed into it, participated, before he tore himself away and shoved at the floor with his heels, causing his chair to roll a yard away.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked quietly, dangerously.

Clark stood back up with an innocent, confused expression on his face.  "I—"

"You're going to have to make up your goddamn mind, Clark," Lex broke in, and rubbed his fingers harshly over his mouth where it burned.  The heat only intensified.  "We either go back to the way it was in the beginning, or we don't.  But don't play with me like that.  I'd rather have a clean break and let us have nothing than have you treat me like a—" he broke off and curbed his voice.  It was rough and bitter and becoming loud.  "Like a plaything," he finally finished.

Clark's brow tightened and he took a step back.  "I don't think you're a... plaything, Lex.  I just wanted to kiss you.  I just... that's all.  We always kiss."

"No, we did kiss, Clark.  But not anymore."  Lex stood up stiffly in anger and stalked around his desk, away from Clark.  "You're the one who said you wanted to just be friends.  That's fine.  But I can't—"

"I never said I just wanted to be friends!" Clark said indignantly.  His hands were in the pockets of his jacket and held open, spreading it away from him.  "I just wanted to back off a little, that's all!"

Lex fell still and shoved his hands in his own pockets to stifle his urge to break something.  "You said," he started, steady but intense, "that you wanted to go back to how it was in the beginning.  So—"

Clark sighed, sudden and loud, and his head fell back melodramatically.  "Oh, Lex," he muttered at the ceiling, then met his gaze, smiling apologetically.  "Not the beginning as in when we first met.  The beginning as in when we first started... when we... you know.  After that night.  That beginning.  Not—jeez.  I didn't mean I wanted to break up."

Lex blinked several times.  Tried to wrap himself around what Clark had just said.  "You didn't?" he finally asked, then closed his eyes against himself.  He'd just sounded like a hopeful child.

"No," Clark answered softly, sounding closer.  Lex took a step back and opened his eyes.  Clark was closer.  But he paused then in both body and expression, as if stopped in place by the warning in Lex's eyes.  "Of course not, Lex," he nearly whispered.  "Why would I want that?"

Lex's throat grew tight.  He swallowed past it.  "Because the experiment failed."

"W—... What experiment?"

Lex shrugged very slightly, as if it was obvious.  "Me."

Clark watched him silently for a long time.  His mouth hung partly open, and his eyes were wide as they burned into Lex's own.  Then, all at once, he softened, and looked almost pitying.  "Lex.  You're not an experiment.  You never were."

Part of Lex wanted to snap at Clark not to look at him like that.  That he wasn't an object of pity, and didn't need Clark's sympathy.  But a much bigger part wanted to fall to his knees and cry in relief.  That part wanted to thank Clark for changing his mind—which he'd apparently never done at all.  It also wanted to scream that he should damn well make himself clearer when throwing such loaded statements around.

Lex didn't trust any of these parts to move or speak or do anything other than stand there with his hands in his pockets and stare at Clark unblinkingly.  The tightness in his throat rose higher, and when he tried to swallow it down, his nose and eyes began to burn.

The pitying look in Clark's eyes grew stronger.

"Lex, I'm sorry.  I didn't realize you thought—"

"It doesn't matter," Lex said flippantly, and his voice cooperated with him.  Even his lips did, when he offered a one-sided grin.  "Honest misunderstanding."

Clark took a step closer, his hands out, reaching toward him.  "If I'd kn—"

Lex literally waved him off before moving around him and to the liquor cabinet.  "Forget about it, Clark."  His hands were steady as he poured what he hoped was a reasonable amount of scotch into a tumbler.  Perhaps, he thought, drinking this amount several times instead of filling the glass to the brim to start with would look more respectable.

He downed the first shot easily and poured another while he spoke, voice thickened from more than the scotch.  "It's my fault, anyway.  I should have asked you to clarify what you meant.  Should have told you I wasn't—" he broke off, realizing that he had been sure what Clark meant.  Very sure.  Just wrong.

He drank half of the second shot before Clark's hand closed around his and led him to put the glass down.  "Lex," Clark said softly near his ear.  "I'm sorry.  I should have realized something was up when you kept avoiding me."

"I haven't been av—"

"Liar."

Lex met his eyes, and Clark winced and smiled at the same time.  Lex smiled back his concurrence.  His eyes began to burn even more, and he tried to look away.

Then, without the slightest foretoken, Clark wrapped him up in a warm embrace.

Lex's body stiffened on contact, having grown unaccustomed to the closeness.  But Clark didn't let up.  Soon Lex's spine began to relax and he slid his arms around Clark's waist in turn.  His face was pushed into Clark's shirt, giving him limited freedom.  He felt his expression tighten and twist with his desire to cry in relief, but he didn't actually complete the action.  Clark's shirt was still dry when he raised his head again.

"If you're not too busy... do you want to go into the den?" Clark asked.  "Watch a movie or...?"  He shrugged.  "Office feels... kind of cold or something, doesn't it?"


*


"Herbert West has effected reanimation in dead animal tissue."

"...Mr. Cain.  I'm surprised."

"No, I've—I've seen it!  He brought back a dead animal—a cat—back to life!"

"I hadn't expected such nonsense from you, Mr. Cain, but I should have guessed it when you took up with Mr. West."

"I know he's unstable... but I've seen the results!"

They'd started off farther apart.  Lex had sat down in the middle of the sofa while Clark picked out another horror movie, probably to counteract the unnecessary drama they'd just put themselves through.  But when Clark had come to join him, he'd situated himself into a corner.  Lex had thought right away about scooting over to him, but he'd hesitated for only a second, which had turned into a minute, which had turned into half the film.

Since then, he'd been shimmying slightly closer every little while, watching carefully out of the corner of his eye for Clark to get uncomfortable or, god forbid, actually shimmy closer himself.  Clark didn't seem to notice anything was happening.

Now they were sitting only half a foot apart, Lex's hand resting on the sofa in between his left leg and Clark's right.

The pretty blonde co-ed grasped tightly at her boyfriend's biceps, speaking up at him in a hiss while a small, bespectacled, mad scientist type man stood between them, watching the exchange with mild interest.

"He doesn't care about anything except his own crazy ideas!" she insisted.  "Can't you see that?"

The tall, dark, clean-cut medical student pulled away from her, his voice rising, and he gestured angrily.  "Meg, he's right!" he shouted, pointing toward the smaller man.  "Your father's wrong!"

The smaller man's interest piqued.  He watched Meg's expression crumble as if it pleased him.  The handsome student turned away from her, actually turned his back on her, and faced him instead.  "Okay.  Okay, now—what do we do now?"

The smaller man stepped closer.  "We prove it to him."

Meg came running back, yanking him toward herself.  "Danny, listen to me!"

The small man stepped ever closer again, looking up at Danny with an expression that seemed to mock her.  "It's the only way, Danny," he said in a low voice.

Danny's eyes held his until Meg's frantic shaking got his attention again.

Eyes fixed firmly on the screen, Lex's hand crept closer.  His fingers, but not the palm, lifted off the cushion and reached up and over.

"Do you think Herbert West is gay?"

Lex's hand skittered to his own side of the gap.  He swallowed down the expectation in his throat and willed his heart to slow.  "Some people think so."

"Maybe the actor is gay."

Lex shook his head.  "The actor is definitely not gay."

Clark looked over at him and Lex met his gaze.  "How do you know?"

"He's married with a couple of kids, Clark."

"Oh.  How do you know that?"

Lex shrugged, his point of view creeping down Clark's chest.  "Read it somewhere."

Clark laughed softly.  "You don't strike me as the kind of guy who reads People Magazine, Lex."

Forcing his eyes back up, Lex smirked.  "Hardly.  You know I collect comics.  Horror comics and related magazines, too.  Combs is pretty prolific in horror—the first Lovecraftian actor.  He's had a few interviews in some of them."  He pushed carefully at the cushions while he spoke, thinking of sliding ever closer.

"Huh."  Clark returned his attention to the movie and was quiet for a minute.  Then, decidedly, "I think he's gay."

Lex chuckled almost silently.  It caught in his throat when Clark's hand dropped down off his knee suddenly and without preamble, and landed warmly over Lex's own hand.  Then it flexed and thick fingers threaded through his, palm to back.

"You can get a little closer if you want," Clark whispered toward the television.

After a tight swallow, Lex did—smoothly—until their thighs were brushing together and their clasped hands had moved onto Clark's leg.  Intently, he watched the side of Clark's face.  There was a small, soft smile there, but he seemed fully focussed on the movie, though the gruesome scene currently playing deserved no smile of any kind, and certainly not that one.

After a good minute of no response, Lex resigned himself to returning his attention to the film.  This was impeccably bad timing.

Because at that exact moment, Clark finally turned toward him and ended up placing an awkward peck on his cheekbone.  They both let out a quiet snort of laughter at the misstep before Lex shifted his face up to participate in a proper kiss.

Sweet lips...  Their soft warmth had, incredibly, been already forgotten.  Their tentativeness, their gentleness, and the tongue that was barely there, but wet and hot when it was.  All of this had been lost or misrepresented grossly in memory in such a short span of time, it was unbelievable.

Lex's spine liquefied as it all came rushing back to him.  He pressed into Clark's mouth with a soft grunt, and squeezed the fingers caught between his own.

He was seconds away from either hooking a leg over Clark's knee or sliding his hand out of Clark's grasp and up his inner thigh—he hadn't yet decided—when Clark stopped it.  He closed his mouth and pulled back gently and smiled.  Lex couldn't smile back.

"I've missed that," Lex said, his voice rumbling up from his chest.

Clark nodded, his gaze on Lex's lips.  "Yeah.  Me, too," he whispered.  The slightest incline was made, and Lex took it gently, joining their mouths again.

A naked, muscular, zombie-like man violently shook the dead, limp, bloody body of a silver-haired man in a suit up against a tiled wall as if trying to kill him again.

"Stop!" Danny screamed, tears of frustration in his eyes.  "For god's sake, stop!"

"Dan," Herbert West said blandly from behind him.  Dan turned in shock.  "Look out."  The whine of a bone saw followed, and he held it before him, stepping menacingly toward the camera.

It was grating, and Lex reached for the remote control on the arm of the sofa, not breaking their kiss, but using the movement as an excuse to half kneel in his spot and push Clark back into the cushiness of the couch.  Once he'd found the Power button blindly and the screaming and tense music suddenly clicked off, their slightly hurried breathing became audible.

Lex tossed the remote control somewhere—it made a clatter that probably meant he'd need a new one—and used his free hand to explore Clark's torso for buttons.

He was hard and throbbing against his own thigh, heat prickling over his scalp and down his back informing him that cool air on bare skin would be much appreciated.  As the second button was strongly encouraged through its slit, he breached Clark's lips with an eager tongue.

Clark's free hand closed over his, tangled with it, and drew it down to his own hip.  Restrained from removing clothes, Lex brought his other leg off the floor to straddle Clark's thigh instead.  Clark was inclined back farther and farther as Lex gained height and leverage on him.

A quiet grunt was muffled into Lex's mouth, and he answered it in kind, working on improvising a technique to rub Clark's groin with his knee without hurting him.

The next grunt sounded very much like his name, and Lex released Clark's lips just long enough to respond with Clark's own and tilt his head the other way.

"Lex, wait.  Stop."

Frozen in place, lips hovering an inch from Clark's mouth, breath coming in quick puffs, Lex searched his face.  "What is it?"

"This is..."  Clark glanced down, around, and away.

Lex sat back on Clark's knee.  "What?"

Clark let go of Lex's hands and wrapped his arms over his own chest as if he was cold.

Watching this, Lex sighed and stopped himself from crossing his own arms in irritable imitation.  He finally moved off of Clark's lap to sit normally on the sofa again.  "Is something wrong, Clark?"

"Maybe we should... talk about what I meant.  Okay?"

Lex pressed his lips together, tried not to growl in frustration.  Cold and hot, hot and cold...  "You want to set some boundaries?" he asked.

Clark rolled a shoulder.  "I just wanna talk."

"Sure, Clark.  Talk."  As soon as it was out, Lex winced at the harshness of his own voice.  Clark looked uncomfortable.  "Sorry.  I mean..."  He sighed sharply and placed a hand lightly on Clark's knee.  Clark met his gaze.  "I'm sorry," he said sincerely.  "You're right, we should talk about it.  Why don't you start, all right?"

Clark nodded and readjusted himself in his seat.  He uncrossed his arms and stared at his own hands in his lap as he fidgeted vaguely.  "I just... want to go slow.  You know?  I can't—I mean—I don't want—"  He shook his head.  "I don't want to rush into anything.  Okay?  I just want... I just want to go slow."

Feeling a good bit of tension melt right out of him at those very words, Lex relaxed back into the cushions.

Hearing Clark voice such a desire brought immense relief, not irritation.  Moving slow was still moving.  Still moving forward.  And Clark telling him?  Telling him what he wanted?  What he didn't?  That was what Lex had been hoping for for months.  "We can go slow, Clark," he said temperately.  "We can go as slow as you want.  I just need you to tell me.  Give me some direction."

Clark shrugged, offered a quick smile and a quicker flash of eye contact.  "Um... north?"

Lex chuckled and considered moving the hand on Clark's knee north, but knew it wouldn't be well received.  "What we'd been doing... before.  Is that... is that too much?"

Clark's throat undulated invitingly as he swallowed, and Lex tried to ignore it.  "Maybe a little."  He shrugged slightly.  "Like... the one day.  A couple weeks ago?"

"Our three month anniversary."

He nodded.  "That was... that was too much.  I want to go slower than that."

Lex nodded in sudden understanding.  ‘In the beginning,’ he'd said.  Clark wanted to go back to kissing—not undressing, not rubbing, and certainly not coming—just kissing.  Like they had when it had all started months ago.  Clark just wasn't ready for this kind of fervor.  "Clark, I hope I haven't... I never meant to make you feel pressured."

Clark's eyes went wide, and he shook his head seriously, meeting Lex's gaze for real this time.  "No, no, not at all.  You haven't.  It's just..." he shrugged, "we can get pretty intense sometimes."

Lex grinned.

Clark watched him for a long, flirty beat as a smirk crawled across his lips before he looked away again.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Lex said cheekily.

Clark laughed softly at his fidgeting hands.  "Yeah.  It kind of is."

Lex sobered and squeezed Clark's knee once in reassurance.  He didn't leave his hand there.  "I have time, Clark.  Okay?  You might drive me out of my mind sometimes, but... I'm not in any hurry.  All right?"

Clark caught his gaze again, smiling.  "Yeah, all right.  I guess I'll take that as a compliment, too."

Lex smiled.  "Yeah.  It kind of is."

When the smile faded as their eye contact stretched, it was Clark who leaned forward.  Lex didn't move closer, just let Clark come at his own pace.  And in a few, long, torturous, beautiful seconds, he was kissed sweetly and softly and carefully.

And when Clark's arms slid around him, Lex wrapped him up in turn.

And as they sat there, side by side and contorted, he was calm and controlled and relatively passive.

And when Clark was ready... he went home.


*


Hot water beat down relentlessly on his head, plastering his hair to his scalp and running into his open mouth as he screamed silently with the intensity of his orgasm.

He stroked himself furiously through it, squeezing unnaturally hard and remaining conscious of his other hand on the tile wall so that he didn't ruin it with his strength.

When it was over, and he'd panted himself back down to earth, he carefully inspected the shower walls and curtain for splatters of his semen, and cleaned off what he found using the removable shower head.  After the first time he had ever masturbated in the shower years ago, he'd had a horrible nightmare that his mom asked his dad to inspect the bathroom ceiling to find out where this white goo was dripping from and fix it, and all the while Clark burned red in a corner of the room and hoped to hell his dad found a hole in the roof to patch.

Mortifying.  Dream or not.

He scrubbed at his groin to remove any smell that might be left behind and leaned heavily on the fixture to turn the water off.  He shivered, not from cold.

Steam swirled through the room as he shoved the shower curtain aside and reached for a towel.

"Clark?" floated through the door from down the hall.

"I'll be right out!"

Clark hurriedly scrubbed at his hair, then wrapped the dampened towel around his waist.  He gathered up his dirty clothes in a pile, only realizing as he picked them up that they smelled strongly of his own sex and lightly of Lex's cologne.

He felt his neck and face heat even further, making the room feel stifling, and he wrenched the door open to get some air and go to his room to put some clothes on.

His mother was standing on the other side, fist in the air, ready to knock.

The pair of them stood in stunned silence for a second.

"I said I'd be right out."

"You've been in there for ages.  We were starting to wonder if you'd drowned."  Her eyes were twinkling; it was obviously a joke.  But Clark felt incredibly embarrassed just the same.

"Just taking a shower," he mumbled, and shouldered his way past, dirty clothes in hand.

"Clark?"

He stopped in his tracks, sighed silently, then plastered on a smile and turned around.  "Hm?"

"Where..." she hesitated, as if not certain she wanted to say what she wanted to say.  "Where were you earlier?"

Lie?  No.  He saw Lex about twice a week.  He'd always seen Lex about twice a week.  They had been very careful not to change that pattern.  "Just over at Lex's."

"Oh," she said pleasantly, as if she should have known that.  She nodded and offered a quick smile.  "So, you ate, then?"

Clark nodded, balling his clothes up tighter and trying to look casual standing there half naked.  "Yeah, we had dinner."

"A proper dinner?"

"Yeah.  Steak and stuff," he said with a shrug.  Filet mignon and baked lobster ravioli actually.  Clark had never had either before, and he wasn't about to bring the subject up.

"Oh, okay.  Good."  She was watching him with the Mom X-Ray Vision.

He felt bare enough as it was.  "Mom, I'm gonna go put some clothes on, okay?" he said, gesturing with the ball of laundry toward his bedroom door.

"Hm?"  She glanced down and seemed to just then notice he was only in a towel.  "Oh, right!  Okay.  Your father and I rented a movie if you want to come downstairs and watch it with us."

"Okay.  Be right down," he said, walking into his room.  He kicked it closed as gently as possible with his heel, and quickly checked his underwear and pants for any of the clear gooey stuff that tended to leak out when Lex was kissing him.  Both free of anything noticeable, he tossed everything into his hamper and turned to his dresser for blue boxer shorts, some dark grey sweatpants that used to be black, and a loose purple tee shirt to use as pyjamas.

It was only as he pulled the tee shirt over his head that he realized he'd chosen it because the colour was very close to the colour of the shirt Lex had been wearing.  He pulled it back off and put on a red one instead.

He was going downstairs to watch a family movie with his parents, and he didn't need to be wearing anything that reminded him of Lex.  Or, worse, of things that Lex had been wearing while they'd—

Clark shook his head vehemently to clear it and pulled on some socks.

He was just about to walk out the door when he suddenly felt like he needed a minute to focus.  He plopped himself down on his bed for a bit instead.

It wasn't that his life was moving at some incredible pace recently—things had actually been pretty quiet for Smallville, and his relationship with Lex had been much calmer since they'd actually talked about it.  It was just that he was living more lives than he could keep track of, and sometimes he felt like he needed to slow down and get it all straight in his head.

His parents knew everything about his life, except where it pertained to Lex.  Pete knew most things about his life except where it pertained to Lex.  Lex knew almost everything about him except where it pertained to his powers or anything related to his powers or where he was from, which—truthfully—meant that Lex didn't actually know all that much about him at all.  Chloe and Lana knew next to nothing about him, but he strived to share everything he could, just as long as it had nothing to do with his powers or anything related to his powers or where he was from or his relationship with Lex.

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Right.  Parents.  Anything, so long as it doesn't have anything to do with the last four months with Lex.

He would make out a list to keep it all straight, but he'd be afraid someone would find it and think he had MPD.

Getting to his feet with a sigh, he steeled himself for the night and joined his parents in the living room.


*


Lex knelt by his den sofa, dabbing at a small spot with a tissue and a little seltzer water.

Yes, he had a massive cleaning staff, but he'd take care of his semen-on-upholstery mishaps on his own, thank you very much.

Besides, one had to get to these things right away or they stained.

He sat back on his haunches with a sigh, balling the tissue up in his fist.  Clark was driving him—very slowly, and very pleasurably, but very, very surely—out of his mind.

Going back to friendship would have been sheer hell, but going back to the beginning of their courtship was torture.  Lex was beginning to feel like all of his shirts only had two buttons, since that's all that was ever allowed to be undone.  His nipples had never been so sensitive in his life.  They craved air.

In the pro column, his legs were gaining in flexibility from spending so much time sitting chieftain style on the couch so that he could kiss Clark without twisting his spine out of whack.  Also, he believed he'd read somewhere that exercising rigid voluntary self-restraint could make a man more virile.  Though who the hell he was being more virile for, he had no idea, since he was—quite emphatically—not getting any.

Chuckling, he shook his head at himself as he got to his feet with unconscious grace and fastened his slacks.  He gathered up the other two soiled tissues from the carpet and threw them all away.

Truth be told, Lex was really rather proud of himself.  Rumors flew—they always did—about what a seducing bastard he was.  Sex maniac, womanizer, cad, et cetera.  Some of it was undeserved and tossed his way, he believed, only because of his affluence and the fact that it made a damn good tabloid story.  But some of it, he could admit, was true.  He did tend to fall into bed easily, he did tend to use sex to get what he wanted, even used it—at times—as a negotiating tactic or ploy.  But only, of course, when his partner (adversary?) was willing and likely doing—or thinking he or she was doing—precisely the same thing.

But, hey, just look at him now.  He glanced at the calendar and pretended he wasn't actually keeping track of exactly how long it had been.  Because, incidentally, it had been a really long time.  But just look who was being a perfect gentleman.  Just look at who was keeping very respectable control of himself, the occasional misdirected solo semen splatter notwithstanding.  Just look at who was going at someone else's pace.

While doing that, try not to pay too much attention to the fact that the ‘someone else’ was a male high-schooler and that most of the things Lex wanted to do with him—but wasn't!—were illegal in several states, including this one.  Those, he was quite sure, were irrelevant facts at this point.

Grinning stupidly, Lex sauntered down the hall, stopped to wash his hands, then proceeded to his office and settled himself behind his desk.  The spreadsheets looked particularly uninteresting, and yet, particularly happy to be there.

He leaned back, still grinning, into his chair and rubbed at his eyes, trying to will away the last bit of afterglow fuzziness his explosive orgasms had brought on.  That's ‘orgasms,’ plural.  Two this time.  Self-restraint = virility.  Lex was running his own personal scientific study, no control group needed.

He chuckled out loud to the empty room and tried valiantly to refocus on his work.  But it didn't take long for him to realize that this was a total waste of effort.

Leaning back in his chair once more, Lex thought about what he might rather be doing.  Rather rapidly, he decided to go to his Room.

Not his bedroom, that is.  His Room.  The Room with the locked door.  The Room he spent half the time trying to convince himself was about him, and the other half basking quite happily in the fact that he'd built a shrine to the mystery that is Clark Kent which he could visit at his leisure in the privacy of his own home.

Upon arrival, he walked inside, locking the door behind him, and travelled around it slowly, enjoying each little piece of the puzzle as if he hadn't seen it a million times before.  He didn't linger by the huge picture of Clark, but tended instead to linger on the other side, where his eyes could dart back and forth between the picture and each artifact of Clark's strange existence and the intriguing way it was tangled up with his:

The car crash Clark had miraculously survived unscathed, and then been lucid and strong and fast enough to bring Lex back to life from.  The picture.  The bullets he had the ability to stop, somehow, some way, whether it be a kind of forcefield or mental misdirection of the shooter or just infallible invulnerability, many of which had been aimed at Lex at the time they'd been fired.  The picture.  A chunk of the type of meteor rock responsible for the mutations of them both.  The picture.

Lex had a smaller version of this photo in a frame by his bed.  There was an even smaller one that he kept in his wallet, stuffed clandestinely between credit cards to shops he no longer frequented.  He very rarely dug it out of there to look at it, but was secure in the fact that when he was away for any length of time and felt he needed to, it was there.

If he should ever be out of town and have his wallet stolen, he'd likely be most pissed off about the picture.  All of his credit cards could be cancelled and reissued with one simple phone call, but he'd have to wait until he could get home before he could procure another copy of that photograph.

He absently fingered one of the mashed bullets suspended on strong, flexible wire as he gazed at the blown up version of the photo.  Clark looked so... Clark-ish in it.  Very ‘you think I'm just a simple farm boy, but in fact...,’ the thrill of secrets there in his eyes, making them sparkle, and the weight of them on his shoulders, making them droop.

Lex hadn't been very active with his Clark project recently.  He liked to come to this room and look at these things, sure, but he hadn't been adding anything new.  He hadn't been doing much snooping around, hadn't really been investigating all these questions or trying very hard to reveal any of these secrets.

He didn't have to ask himself why.  The whole point of investigation had been to try to feel closer to Clark, but now Clark was letting him feel closer.  Not by revealing those oft-mentioned secrets, of course—Lex wasn't sure if he'd ever do that—but just by being with him.  Touching him, kissing him, talking with him, spending their time actually hanging out together instead of asking for and granting favours.  Not that Lex minded granting the favours.  Those made him feel a little closer to Clark, too, and they were the only gifts he could really get away with giving him.  It was just nice to be appreciated for... other things for a change.

The closer they became in life, the more Lex was able to let pass his obsession with the things Clark kept hidden.  Because, after all, his obsession had never been about the secrets themselves.

It had always been about the person keeping them.  It had always been about Clark.


*


The hands massaging gently just above Lex's knees were nearly shaking with the effort to not squeeze, to not move higher, to not undo some more of those infuriating buttons.

They were sitting on the sofa, much like they usually did, legs crossed in front of them, facing one another, leaning forward and kissing softly with all of their passion sealed tightly below the surface.  For Clark, at least, it felt like those seals were taking an awful lot of pressure.  The teeth of his zipper sympathized.

Lex's fingers were trailing lightly over his hips.  Or they might have been rubbing firmly—scratching, even—but it was on top of his underwear and his jeans and his tee shirt and his flannel, so he couldn't really tell.  He thought of what it must feel like to have those soft and gentle fingers on the bare skin of his hips, and broke into a rash of goose bumps all over just from imagining it.

The hands moved, stroking warmly up his sides and over the small of his back.  His skin felt tight everywhere, every inch waiting on edge for its turn to be touched, even though none of it was really being touched at all.  He leaned forward more acutely, kissed Lex just the tiniest bit deeper, and finally let his own hands travel up the outsides of Lex's legs and cup his hips in turn.

Lex's breath sighed softly onto his cheek and he began to massage Clark's lower back more firmly.  The fingers chanced their way in between the tee shirt and the flannel as they usually did when he wore two layers, but Clark knew very securely that they wouldn't try for any further.  He wanted them to.  He didn't want them to, but oh, how he wanted them to.

Lex released his mouth and started trailing soft moist kisses down his cheek and onto his neck and throat.  He exhaled lines of wet heat along Clark's skin, then pressed only half open, damp lips back along these same lines.  Everything was soft and sweet and slow and caused little currents of electricity to travel outward from the touch of Lex's lips to the ends of Clark's fingers and the bottoms of his feet.

Clark tried to do the same on Lex's throat, but felt clumsy and inadequate.  He didn't think he could ever do anything that soft, no matter how hard he tried.  He just wasn't made for gentle things.

Lex nipped unexpectedly at the juncture of neck and shoulder, and Clark took in a sharp gasp.  His jeans got abruptly more uncomfortable than they had been, and he clamped down on the sudden consuming, throbbing urge to rip them off until the feeling subsided just a little.

"Is that too much?" Lex murmured against his skin, back to kissing it with soft, smooth strokes of his lips.

Clark swallowed and shook his head, placing his own words against Lex's neck.  "No, that's okay.  It feels nice."

Lex nipped him again, a little higher this time, and from the resultant shock of electricity, Clark wondered if he should have said yes.  The papillae on his scalp tightened, as if they were trying to get every hair to just stand straight up on his head in response to the stimulation.

Somehow, maybe Lex knew that.  Because one hand slid up his back and tangled itself in his hair and Clark gasped again.  His hair was tugged at carefully, making him tilt his head farther to the right and farther down at the same time, and then Lex nipped sharply at a super-sensitive place right behind his ear.

Clark's thighs tightened in a spasm and asked rather rudely if he wouldn't like to change his mind about ripping his jeans off now.  He sat up quickly, putting his neck out of reach of Lex's brilliant mouth, and the hand in his hair withdrew right afterwards.

"Sorry," Clark said, sounding breathless even to himself.  He took Lex's lips again before a response came.

Clark's cheeks felt as if they were on fire, and his heart pattered wildly in his chest.  They hadn't even been doing this very long, but it was already starting to feel close to being way too much for him.  The delicate balance of his self-control seemed to get more and more temperamental with every meeting they had.

He wanted to touch Lex's body everywhere.  He wanted Lex to touch his body everywhere.  He wanted them both to be out of their clothes and lying down together and finding new and exciting and sexy ways to make each other gasp.

But what he needed... was to stop thinking about all of those things.

Clark broke their kiss, pushing his forehead against Lex's, and not opening his eyes.  He panted wordlessly and listened to Lex do the same.

"You all right?" Lex asked, his voice deep and rumbling from somewhere lower than it did when they weren't doing things like this.

Clark nodded, his hair rubbing against Lex's forehead.  "Just need a little breather," he said, his own voice sounding deeper, too, but wispier, like he didn't quite have the strength to speak properly, which he sort of didn't.

Lex's hands slid back down Clark's body and legs, finally stopping to rest and knead gently low on his thighs.

It was only as Lex moved his hands that Clark suddenly realized the grip he'd been trying to get on himself was being translated to his own hands.  He was gripping Lex's hips hard—much harder than he'd meant to—without being aware of it.  He let go all at once and jerked them back.

"Was I holding you too tight?" he asked in a panic.

Lex shot a lightly confused look across the several inches that now separated their faces, then shook his head.  "No, of course not," he said, sounding puzzled.  Then he smiled softly.  "Clark, I'd tell you if you were doing something like that.  I promise."

Clark exhaled with relief and smiled a bit sheepishly, feeling silly for his momentary freak out.  But, god, he needed to pay attention to what he was doing with his hands!  He could do a lot of damage before Lex managed to say, ‘Clark, you're hurting me,’ or even to just cry out from pain.  He couldn't lose focus of himself like that.

His smile must have faded and his expression must have begun to show his inner turmoil, because Lex wasn't smiling anymore, either.  He tapped a bent finger under Clark's chin to get him to lift his head and make eye contact.

"Hey, don't look so worried.  I know you're new at this, Clark, but you're not going to hurt me.  You've never hurt me in all this time, and we've done a bit more than what we're doing now.  Right?"

Clark tried to smile again and nodded a little in the agreement that was expected of him.  He didn't say that it didn't matter what had gone before.  He didn't say that every time, no matter what it was they were doing, no matter how little it was compared to other times, he could still feel his self-restraint threatening to snap.

He'd thought backing up like this would make it easier on him, but it really didn't seem to at all.  It was just yet another well thought out plan in his relationship with Lex that delighted in blowing up in his face.

Lex leaned forward and kissed Clark on the lips gently once more, then pulled back as if to judge his reaction.

They stared back and forth into one another's eyes for a long, long moment before Clark finally cracked a half smile and leaned in to resume their necking.

Besides all of the things that Clark wanted to do with Lex, but knew were too dangerous to try, he felt a kind of adoration for simply kissing him.  Lex's lips were very silky and supple and leant themselves easily to just about anything Clark wanted to do to them.  Lex's lips never pursed too hard or sucked too much or opened too wide.  They never got too wet or too dry, never hesitated or misstepped.  They made Clark feel completely untalented in the kissing department by comparison, but he never wanted to pull away from them.

There was that beautiful little slice of a scar to consider, of course, and Clark had spent many of their first kisses thoroughly examining it—as would anyone—but that tiny fascinating imperfection was just the cherry on the proverbial sundae.  The bow of Lex's top lip was very defined and felt wonderfully firm and smooth against Clark's tongue or skin or lips.  His bottom lip, especially, was plump to start with, but they both swelled up a little almost immediately when they began to kiss, as if blood was rushing there at breakneck speed for just the tantalizing promise of sensation.

And if Lex's lips were incredible, the tongue behind them was a miracle.  Lex had the ability to twist that thing left and right, curl it nearly into a circle, and flick it at Clark's with a speed that made him feel not so abnormal.  It was a serpent's tongue, and Clark felt a marvelously dirty little thrill about how much he liked that idea.

It beckoned him sometimes, tempted him.  Came in and flicked at his own tongue, then disappeared, leaving behind the sensation that it had just said, ‘Psst.  C'mere.’  And, unsuspecting, Clark would follow it, and Lex's plump lips would close tight around him and suck while that same devilish creature flicked at the tip of him, and Clark would moan so loudly he embarrassed himself.

That, in fact, just so happened to be what was occurring at this very moment.

Lex's mouth was pulling on his tongue, something invisible was pulling at his groin, and Clark was embarrassing himself.  But then Lex moaned back at him, not as loud, but loud enough, and Clark didn't feel quite so embarrassed anymore.

And while Lex sucked Clark ever farther into his mouth, his hands were sliding off Clark's knees and up the insides of his thighs in a firm and exceedingly warm double caress.  He broke no boundaries, running his thumbs carefully along only the creases where thigh met groin, but he was sure as hell leaning on the fence a little.

Clark felt, quite vividly, his dick try to leap up, but having nowhere to go, it simply pulsed in place.  His scrotum cinched up tight and pressed his testes close against his body.  Something leaked out of him and made his underwear warm and wet.

Clark broke their sensual kiss of temptation with a loud pop and a ragged breath, and he turned his body quickly to face forward, feet lowering shakily to the floor.  Even the friction of spinning slightly in place to turn away caused a shock of pleasure to shoot through his balls, and he hissed as he leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him, both to calm down and to hide his substantial problem.

"You all right?"

"A little too much," Clark panted.

The weight on the couch shifted as Lex sat up straighter and opened his arms, claiming innocence.  "I didn't do anything."

Clark laughed somewhat breathlessly.  Then he turned his head and looked up at Lex from under his lashes.  Lex was plainly holding back a self-satisfied smirk.  "Well, you get some pretty incredible reactions for a man who doesn't do anything."

The smirk broke free.  Lex shrugged one shoulder.  "Must be a gift."

Unbidden, Clark's gaze went down Lex's clothed body and back up, thinking about gifts and unwrapping them, and if he hadn't already been blushing, he was now.  The tips of his ears burned.

Lex's smirk became less lopsided and slightly more lascivious than self-satisfied.

Clark turned to stare at his own feet and reminded himself to breathe.  He emphatically encouraged his blood to move to more useful places: His brain, for instance.

He was concentrating on that very hard, which was why he jumped so much when Lex's hand was laid warmly on the small of his back.

"Hey," Lex said soothingly, and rubbed.  "You okay?"

Clark laughed without mirth.  "Sorry.  I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Who said there was anything wrong?"  The sofa jostled slightly as Lex uncrossed his legs and moved to sit beside Clark, warm thigh inches from his own.

"Me.  I—I don't feel like I... have any control over myself sometimes."

Lex chuckled quietly.  "We all feel like that sometimes, Clark.  That's called ‘lust,’ if I do say so myself, and I'm flattered."

Flattened, more likely, Clark thought, if I don't start figuring out how to keep myself in check.

Lex's arm went more fully around his waist, and he shook Clark a little.  "Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I don't have much control over myself when it comes to you, either."

Clark glanced up and found Lex smiling wryly at him.  He smiled back, nervous.  "I just... you know, I wanna go slow."

Lex gestured at the two of them with his other hand.  "Slower than this?"  It wasn't a sarcastic or mocking question.  Lex was honestly asking.

Clark swallowed hard, holding Lex's gaze.  God.  Was there slower than this?  How sad was it that he couldn't even handle this slow?  "No.  No, not slower than this.  I just... I don't want to speed up any.  That's all."

"We don't have to, Clark," Lex assured him, and rubbed his back some more.  "Whatever you're comfortable with is what we'll do.  Please tell me if I'm making you feel pressured, all right?"

Clark wanted to bang his head against a wall.  There must have been something severely wrong with him, because what he wanted Lex to do right now was to pressure him: Pressure him a lot and be really pushy about it.  Because maybe if Lex did that, Clark would be able to grab hold of it as something to rail against, and get control of himself.  But all of this sweet, patient understanding was just making him want Lex more and more.

"You're not making me feel pressured, Lex," he muttered, and buried his face in his hands.  He stayed like that for about a minute, then scrubbed vigorously at his face, trying to snap himself out of it.

Lex's hand left his back, and gestured vaguely in the air.  "Look, if this is too much... we can do something else.  Hm?  Uh, go swimming, play a game of pool maybe?  It's been a while since we've eaten.  Maybe you're hungry...?"

Clark shook his head, smiling slightly.  "I don't want to do anything else, Lex."

He straightened his back, extending his spine and, after a slight hesitation, decided to finish it by lying back into the cushy corner of the sofa, stretching himself out.  Lex watched him with a small smile, his expression beginning to look painted onto his face.

"Taking a nap?" he asked, tongue firmly in cheek.

Clark laughed and shook his head ‘no.’  "Just stretching out," he said.  He felt his smile begin to fade.  He didn't feel like being quite this far away.

Clark reached out a lazy arm, feeling heavier than he had only moments ago, and beckoned slightly.  "You wanna... maybe lay down with me for a little while?"

Lex gave the impression that he'd just moved though he hadn't.  Then, after a short pause, his smile widened.  He started to get up.  "Sure, Clark," he said easily, then hesitated, still not quite off the sofa.  "Are you... gonna move over and give me some room?"

Clark shrugged, avoiding Lex's eyes.  "Maybe do you... just wanna lay on top of me for a little?"

What was he doing?  His voice sounded coy to his own ears, like he was flirting with Lex, but all he really was was embarrassed about what he wanted.  He wanted... he wanted to cuddle.

He waited quietly for Lex's response.  When it didn't come, Clark's legs began twitching nervously, and he watched his own hands fidget uselessly above his belly.

"Are you sure?" Lex finally asked, voice sounding tight.

Clark nodded.  After a moment, there was some shuffling from Lex's end.

Clark opened his legs first, then his arms, and finally glanced up to find Lex crawling over top of him.  He was given a smile for looking, returned it, and sighed as Lex settled quietly atop him.  He wrapped his arms around waist and back and heard himself make a pleased humming noise as Lex situated himself into the crook of his neck.

"Mmm... warm," Clark muttered.  He felt Lex's lips stretch against his neck, then place a soft kiss there.  "You feel good.  Strong.  Solid."

"So do you, Clark."

But Clark didn't really hear him.  Clark was too busy running his hands over Lex's back and realizing how much more solid he felt right this moment than he ever had before.

Lex felt heavy and more concrete somehow.  He felt stronger, thicker, more substantial.

Clark thought about this silently for several minutes as they cuddled there on the sofa.  After really musing it over, he came to the conclusion that it wasn't so much that Lex felt different.  Rather, it was that in this position, Clark felt differently.  Clark didn't have to be as careful as he usually did.

He didn't have to worry about where he put his hands, where he put his weight, how he leaned down, how he got his leverage.  He could just lie there loose and natural and not worry about how he was distributing his weight underneath him.

Clark felt more freedom resting like this, and that, in turn, made Lex seem somehow less breakable—less fragile.

"You feel so solid," Clark murmured again.

"Yeah.  Try to ignore it."

"Hm?  Oh."  Clark laughed softly, realizing what Lex thought he was referring to.  "No.  No, not that.  I mean... you just feel, um... heavy."

"Am I too heavy?"

"No—no, heavy in a good way.  Like... Like, I like the way your weight feels on my chest.  It's... good.  It's nice."

Lex was silent, and Clark got the impression he was smiling without having any evidence of this.

Clark's eyes began to feel heavy, his skin warm.  He hummed quietly and held Lex tighter to himself.  He felt floating and half asleep, and when he adjusted his legs minutely, a tingle of happiness went down both sides of him.  He squeezed them again, feeling the strength, the solidity of Lex's hipbones jutting into his inner thighs.  They weren't any different, he tried to rationalize to himself.  They were just as breakable, just as weak as they had always been.  Lex was still fragile.

He squeezed his thighs together again, rolled his hips, felt Lex's bone and muscle move under the pressure, but still seem so strong.

"Clark, what are you doing?" a breathless question by his ear.

Clark's brow tightened, but he refused to open his eyes.  He rolled his hips again, feeling Lex hard against him.  Everything about Lex felt hard now.  Lex was just like steel everywhere: Unbreakable.

He turned his head and sought Lex's mouth blindly.  It rubbed against his lips without kissing, then spoke so closely and so lowly, Clark felt it more than heard it.

"Clark... are you sure you want to do this?"

Clark's brow became tighter in mild perplexity he didn't feel like voicing.  He nearly squeezed his thighs tight again.  Then he realized what was happening here.  He hadn't stopped rolling his hips, and Lex was rocking back at him in a kind of almost-rhythm.  They were rubbing together with an absentmindedness that felt comfortable, and Clark didn't want to stop doing it.

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, nodding, and still not opening his eyes.

"Look at me."

Lex's breath was on his cheek, his lips weren't touching him anymore, but his rocking only stopped for a moment just after he'd spoken, then began again.  Clark closed his eyes tighter.

"Clark, I need you to open your eyes, look at me, and tell me if you're sure about this."

The whisper was leaving Lex's voice.  The tone was becoming flatter, the volume louder.  But Clark didn't want Lex to talk.  He wanted him to breathe.

His hair felt hot on his forehead.  His jeans were too tight in the thighs and the hips and the crotch.  Lex wasn't putting enough weight on him.

Clark opened his eyes.

Lex was watching him with caution, but desire filled his face.  His mouth was slack, bottom lip shining, tongue hovering just beyond straight lower teeth like he was waiting for permission to use it.

"Do you want me to stop?" Lex asked, but his body didn't miss a beat, didn't slow down at all.

Clark shook his head.  "It feels good, doesn't it?" he asked, and Lex grinned.

"Ohh, yeah..."

Clark smiled at the comedic tone, holding back a laugh.  He lowered his eyes, feeling shy.

"God," Lex whispered.  "I wonder if you know what you look like..."

Clark raised his gaze to meet Lex's again, and felt almost burned by the look he was getting.  It was some expression he didn't know how to categorize, and he wasn't exactly sure that he really wanted to.  It was a Lex look and he liked it and maybe that was all he needed to know.

His breath caught in his throat and, without thinking about it, he jerked his hips up.

Lex hissed.  "Clark..." he breathed, making it sound like a benediction.  "Is this what you want?"  He pushed down into Clark's groin even as he said it.

Clark groaned through clenched teeth.  "You feel so strong," he ground out, scratching lightly at Lex's back.

Lex arched against him.  "Jesus, Clark.  You drive me crazy, do you know that?"  He swooped down and attacked Clark's mouth without warning.

Clark heard a sound escape his own throat that he would never admit to having made as Lex kissed him with palpable passion.  Before he knew what he was doing, his hands had slid down Lex's back and sides, and his thumbs were hooking into the belt loops of his slacks.  Lex's tongue stopped mid-swirl in his mouth when he tugged down gently.

He opened his eyes to find Lex staring at him askance from an inch away.  They just stared for a long time before Lex finally broke their stalled kiss and began to speak.

"If this is—"

"I feel kinda..." Clark broke in, and tugged down on Lex's belt loops again.  "Just the pants, I mean," he said, fighting to keep eye contact.  "Maybe?  Maybe we could, just... without the pants."

A deer caught in headlights wasn't the kind of look Clark normally associated with Lex's face, but that was, indeed, the one he was wearing.  "Are you—?"

"I'm sure," Clark whispered.  He tugged again.  "Just... you stay on top, okay?  Take these off, and... you just stay on top of me."

Lex felt more than strong now.  He felt rigid, and it was incredibly heartening.

"Is there any way I can rip them off at the seams and yet not appear overeager?"

Clark laughed out loud at that.  Then he worked on his own fly while Lex, cool as always, did manage to remove his pants in record time without seeming out of control.  Clark's hands were shaking when he lifted his hips from the sofa and tried to push his jeans down.

Then Lex's hands were over his, steadying him, and, after a short pause, they pushed the denim down together.

"Jesus, Clark..." Lex breathed, staring unabashedly at Clark's body as it was revealed.

Clark's face and throat felt on fire all at once, and heat prickled at the base of his skull.

Lex was down at the end of the sofa, sliding each of Clark's socks off along with the legs of his jeans.  Clark pulled each too big foot back as it was uncovered to keep Lex from looking at them.  He ended up with one on the floor and one buried in the crack of the sofa, his legs open wide in unconscious invitation.

Lex began to crawl back over him, somehow still slow and calm, while Clark concentrated on not staring at any one part of Lex's body for too long at a time.  His legs were ivory white.  Clark knew that from having often swum together, but they were somehow far, far more demanding of his attention here and now than they ever had been at the pool.  His underwear were tight and purple—not deep or dark purple, not plum—real, unadulterated bright purple.  ...Lex's underwear were violet.  Where could a guy even buy violet underwear?

And, as if the colour wasn't distracting enough—especially contrasted against Lex's creamy, pale skin—his erection striped thick, hard, and proud straight up the middle of the fabric.  From this angle, Clark could even tell that Lex was circumcised—that was how tight those violet underwear were.  Right now, that hard stripe was getting shadowed as it moved down and closer, and brushed hard against—

"Ah!"  Clark arched his back and sucked a breath in through his teeth.

Those violet underwear were as thin as they were tight, and Clark's white briefs felt somehow thinner than usual, too.  The difference in sensation from what had been was extraordinary.

"You like that, Clark?" Lex breathed, lips already against his before Clark had a chance to answer.

Clark's arms tightened carefully around Lex's back, and he threw himself into their kiss while Lex ground softly against him.  Lex's tongue was in his mouth already, doing acrobatic things that sometimes distracted him from the motion between his thighs, and other times accentuated it like sunlight on a diamond.

Finding brain power somewhere, somehow, to be careful of the strength in his fingers, Clark squeezed lightly at Lex's hips as they kissed.  He felt the slipperiness of Lex's briefs against his fingers like cornsilk, and his skin soft and smooth as lilac petals.  The fragility of it all made the bone underneath seem softer, too, and he stopped touching Lex there to avoid the thought.

His hands slid up Lex's back again, and he fought to ignore how his skin was really rather soft and fragile feeling everywhere.  He concentrated on the strong thrust of muscle in his mouth, on the dominating way Lex's tongue swirled inside and tasted every bit of him.  It slid back out, then in again, flickered at his own tongue lying almost dormant in his mouth, and receded once more only to do it all over again.  Slowly, Clark's tongue awoke and followed, and Lex's hips thrust tight against him in concert with the hard, pulling suck that got half of Clark's tongue into Lex's mouth all at once.

Clark's grunt was muffled but still loud, and he blushed as he felt a spot on his briefs grow damp.  He shivered, feeling cold for a split second, then too hot to even breathe again.  Electricity shot from his chest, along his spine and through his groin as Lex pinched down with thumb and knuckle on one of his nipples.

With a wet sucking sound, Lex released his tongue, and it slid back into his own mouth feeling weak and limp and swollen.

"Tell me what's too much," Lex breathed, and began to nibble at the soft piece of skin just under the sharp angle of Clark's jaw.  "You're in control here.  You just tell me when to stop."

Clark whimpered into the air over Lex's head and tried without success to stop his thighs from squeezing in rhythm with Lex's thrusts.

Lex raised his head and met his gaze.  His eyes looked smoky and black.  "Can I touch you?" he asked.  It was only just then that Clark became aware that Lex's other hand had been rubbing unostentatiously at the band of his briefs.  Now that he was focussed on it, he could actually feel damp heat radiating from the tips of Lex's fingers through his underwear and right onto the distended skin of his cock.  Lex wasn't even touching him, but he could feel his warmth from there.

Fighting for control of himself, Clark buried one hand in a cushion and gripped it harder than he should have.  "Not... there," he ground out.

The hot hand slid damply up his stomach and chest.  "Okay," Lex said, without disappointment, and began sucking on the other side of Clark's neck, behind his ear.

Clark heard himself whimper again, tried to pull it back too late and made a choking sound.  His forehead and every part of his body touching the couch felt drenched with sweat.  He tasted salt on his upper lip where it was pooling.  Lex seemed attuned to the movements of his tongue, because when it came out to lick, Lex was suddenly there, licking at it and with it, and offering a kiss of salt and heat.

Clark had a sudden and powerful urge to hold Lex tight to him—to crush him to him—and he frightened himself with it.  He jerked his other hand away from Lex's back and squeezed all of his fingers deep into the sofa cushion.  He thrust up even as he did this, feeling hard, damp pressure on his cock and wishing there was more of it.  Then all at once there was when Lex ground down into him.

Clark moaned loudly, then it trailed off into half a sob that let out some tension, and he felt partly back to himself.  He wrapped his arms around Lex's back again, pulling their chests together.

"Clark," Lex drew the name out in a lingering monotone.  "God, your body feels hot.  I could touch you like this for days.  Would you like that?"

Clark's answer was wordless and unfocussed.  He twisted toward Lex's fingers at his hip.

Lex leaned up and met his eyes, which were barely open at all.  "You're in control.  Okay?  You tell me when you need to stop."

Pleasure tingled down his spine at the very words.  "Nnn..."  Clark arched his head back, exposing his neck, and his eyes went closed the rest of the way.

Lex's mouth was on his throat in a flash, mouthing and scraping at it in complicated patterns.  His hips began to shift left to right, right to left, then to rotate in wide, nonstop circles.

Clark gasped at the air but didn't feel like he got any of it.

Oh, god, what Lex was doing with his hips felt just incredibly dirty.  He wanted to be naked, he wanted to be mortified, to do more, to stop, to yell out it wasn't enough, to whisper how perfect it all was.

"You can touch me, Clark.  If you want to," Lex breathed near his ear, then went about sucking the lobe into his mouth.

Clark's eyes rolled back as hot puffs of breath tickled his ear canal and a hot, wet tongue traced every millimetre of the cartilage.  After a few seconds, he was finally able to focus his eyes and look down to where they were rubbing together.  He saw only glimpses of violet and vanilla gyrating on white and umber.  But he knew from the searing heat that went through him at the mere sight of it that he couldn't bear to put his hands on Lex there as gently as he would need to.

Instead, he rubbed carefully at Lex's back where his hands were already resting, getting the feel of appropriate pressure on such fragile flesh.  Then he slowly began to slide one down.  His fingertips tripped over the start of fabric at the small of Lex's back, on his hesitation of whether he could stand to go in.  But he decided he couldn't handle any more skin than this—probably couldn't handle even this much—and finished the movement by cupping Lex's full but clothed cheek in his palm.

Lex grunted loudly against his throat, sounding both pleased and surprised as he pushed his hips back and up, pressing himself into Clark's hand.  Clark squeezed down gently, and shifted his pelvis up, seeking the contact they'd lost.

"Please don't stop," Clark breathed.

"Ditto."  Lex was reaching back even as he ground back down into Clark's body, and covered Clark's hand with his own, holding it tight to his ass.

On impulse, Clark's other hand raced to join the first, squeezing the other cheek, and he pulled Lex's hips tighter against his own.

"God, that's good," Lex whispered, and tangled Clark's mouth up in another hard kiss.

Clark heard himself half sobbing into Lex's mouth, and wished he could be quiet.  Lex's body felt so hard against him—so real and so strong and so very hot.  He didn't want to stop, but knew he couldn't handle this for long, knew he shouldn't have let it go as far as it had.  He just kept putting off second by agonizing second the fact that they had to stop.  His self-control was moments from abandoning him.

God, I'd give anything to be normal right now.

Lex's hands were wedged in between Clark's back and the sofa, and were determinedly working their way down.

"Oh, Lex," Clark murmured, and tried to slow down.  He arched up, offering what would be his last hard thrust, and Lex's hands raced down with the sudden freedom and squeezed his ass tight.

Clark let out a startled sound.  There was an incredible shock of pleasure shooting out from Lex's fingers curling into his crease, where he'd never known he was so sensitive.  His cock leapt in his briefs and spurted out a thick liquid to further dampen the cotton.  He forgot to breathe.

"Tell me if it's too much," Lex muttered, and mouthed the juncture of neck and shoulder.  "You're in control of everything.  Just tell me what's too much."

The words made him throb all over.  And then, something cracked inside his chest.  It was loud inside and it hurt, but it suddenly made him able to breathe.  He could hear the echo from it in his head.  It was, at once, the most terrifying and the most freeing sound he'd ever heard.

It was the sound of his restraint snapping.

"Oh, god, Lex, it's all too much," he rushed, his words coming in a sudden and unexpected outpour.  "Every time you touch me, every time you kiss me—I can't handle any of it, Lex!  I can't handle it anymore—you're breaking me.  Please, please, god, please just touch me.  Touch me.  Please touch me!"

He twisted, out of control, on the sofa, straining up for ever more pressure on his throbbing loins.  He pulled Lex's hips to his own harshly, helping him—maybe forcing him—to grind down.

Lex's face was suddenly in view, but it was blurred from the tears of frustration in Clark's eyes, so he couldn't tell what the expression on his face meant.  "God, Clark, are you sure?  Tell me you're sure."

"I'm sure!  Please just touch me right now!"

But Lex was pulling away instead of getting closer, and Clark was struggling with himself to let go.  He actually wasn't certain he was going to be able to.  But that was when Lex tilted his hips to the left, and shoved a hand down the front of Clark's underwear to grip his cock hard and rough and sudden.

Clark yelled, and his sac tightened up as rapidly as a contracting rubber band.

His fingers flexed once on Lex's flesh, beyond his control, and he didn't know what the strength level had even been.  So he tore his hands away, wrapped one around the back of the sofa, one around the bottom of it, and donated little to no focus on not splintering the thing.

Lex stroked him at a feverish pace, the sweaty, slippery sound of it dominating the room for all of three seconds while Clark held his breath, his mouth locked open in silent agony as he reached for release.

Then, like an explosion, he found it, and screamed.

Liquid heat ripped through every vein in his body, making him shudder uncontrollably for a small eternity, then finally go weak and heavy and limp.

Just as he was finished, wetness that wasn't his own began to rain down upon him.  He forced his eyes open to catch the sight of the last splatter of semen leaving Lex's cock and hitting Clark's stomach as Lex jerked himself off with an expression akin to pain on his face.  As the strokes slowed, Lex let out a deep, relieved groan, and his eyes rolled and fluttered closed.

His hand finally came off himself to slam onto the cushion by Clark's leg as if to stop from falling forward.  His arms locked at the elbows, and his head hung down loosely.  His panting was rough and loud.

Clark suddenly remembered to start breathing.  "Are you okay?" he sobbed loudly in fear.  He didn't let up on his grip on the couch.

"Oh my god, Clark," Lex droned, and panted some more.

"Lex," Clark insisted, his voice cracking on as yet unshed tears.  "Please tell me you're okay."

Lex's neck moved as if he was trying to look up at him but simply hadn't the strength.  "I'm okay, Clark," he breathed.  "I'm indubitably okay."

"Oh, god," Clark whispered, and let his head fall back to the cushion.  "Oh, god.  Oh, thank god I didn't hurt you."

There was a pause.  "You're joking, right?"

Clark didn't answer, he just breathed as his eyes dried out, and concentrated on the tingling sensations of Lex shakily adjusting Clark's underwear to cover him properly.

"Clark, are you all right?" Lex finally asked when Clark had remained quiet too long.

Clark opened his eyes to see Lex had already adjusted his own briefs.  He nodded.

Lex was watching him carefully with narrowed eyes.  "Are you upset that happened?" he asked gently.

Clark shook his head, mute.

"Did you... like it?"

Clark's eyes widened and he nodded seriously.

Lex laughed, sounding relieved.  "Oh, good," he said, voice higher than usual.  He crawled up, arms shaking noticeably, and manoeuvred himself in between Clark and the back of the sofa.

Clark wrapped his right arm around Lex's back with care, encouraging him to snuggle up against his side.  He watched Lex with a mixture of concern and wonder.

Lex was obviously all right, and yet Clark wasn't fully convinced he was all right.  Somehow it didn't seem possible that he could have done this and no one got hurt.  It just didn't seem viable that his control could break so viciously and yet Lex would still be whole.

"I'm sorry I got so out of control like that."

Lex shook his head, gaze focussed on Clark's chest.  "God, I've never heard you talk like that.  Never heard you sound so desperate."  He met Clark's eyes.  "You have my emphatic permission to ‘go out of control’ whenever you like," he finished, grinning.

Clark snorted softly and half rolled his eyes.

Lex's grin slowly faded away.  "Hey, you're all right with this, right?  I know it doesn't exactly fit in with the ‘back to the beginning’ game plan.  Are you ready for this?"

Clark's heart double beat in his chest a few times.  "I'm not... really sure."

"That's okay, you know," Lex soothed.  "Just because it happened doesn't mean you have to make some life-altering decision.  You're still in control of everything we do and don't do.  The decision will always be yours, Clark."

Clark smiled his appreciation.  He focussed in silence on his own hand fidgeting near a splatter of semen by his belly button.  "What if..." he started after some time.  "What if I don't... want to be in control?"

"...I'm sorry?"

"What if I... what if I would feel better about it if maybe you were in control?"

"I'm not sure how you mean.  Clark, I can't make decisions for you about what you're ready to do."

"No, I mean—I know.  I mean... I mean, not so much ‘in control’ as..." he broke off and rolled his eyes at himself.  "This is gonna sound dumb, but, not so much ‘in control’ as ‘on top.’  Like, literally."

"‘On top’?  You're saying you prefer to be in control from the bottom?"  Lex's smile was only half formed, and teasing.

"Sort of.  I don't know, I... I feel more... I feel freer somehow if you're on top of me instead of the other way around.  Does that make any sense?"

Lex shrugged a shoulder fluidly.  "Sure.  Less pressure.  That's fine with me if that's what you want, Clark."

Clark nodded with finality.  "Yeah.  That's what I want.  ...I think."

"All right, then."  As if to prove his point, Lex rolled on top of Clark, crossed his arms on Clark's chest, and rested his chin on his forearm.  "This is me being on top."

Clark raised an eyebrow.  "Huh.  Suits you, oddly enough."

Lex's eyes widened comically.  "A Luthor looking at home on top.  Imagine that."

"Truth is stranger than fiction," Clark murmured, and reached out for a kiss as Lex smiled.

Their collision was soft and gentle and, Clark realized a few seconds into it, sleepy.  He felt exhausted.  He could really use a nap, and he was getting the impression that Lex felt the same way.

A quick glance at his watch while Lex cuddled back into his neck told him it wasn't a good idea.  Curfew wasn't even an hour off, and he felt like sleeping a lot longer than that.

When he dropped his hand to Lex's back again, Lex went very still.  "You sure you're all right?" he asked after a moment, and Clark realized that he hadn't been very smooth checking his watch like that.

"Yeah, I was just..." Clark gestured vaguely, and laughed a little, embarrassed.

"Are you comfortable lying here like this?"

"Yeah.  Yes.  I... It was pretty amazing, wasn't it?" Clark asked, staring at the ceiling.  "Intense, I mean.  It was really intense."

Lex hummed quietly and adjusted against Clark's neck.  He breathed silently for a minute.  "I think you needed that, Clark.  You've seemed so stressed.  Now you just feel so relaxed."

"I am relaxed."  He ran his palms over the cooling skin of Lex's back.  "I feel so light," he said, trailing on quietly.  "I almost feel drugged or something."

Clark said this last with a small chuckle, and could hear the smile in Lex's voice when he next spoke.  "Endorphins," he said simply.

"Oh, is that what it is?" Clark asked, feigning innocence.  "I just figured you must be a really hot lover."

"Well, there is that."

Even while they each laughed quietly, Clark thought about calling Lex his lover again.  He didn't think he'd ever used the word aloud before, knew he hadn't ever had one.  He thought about introducing Lex to someone new as his lover.  This is Lex.  He's my lover.

Clark grinned stupidly at the ceiling, glad Lex couldn't see him and ask what was so funny.

Lover, he mouthed, over and over again.  He slowed the word down in his imagined speech until he was saying it in silent slow motion, feeling every nuance of the roll of his tongue on the L and the purse of his lips on the R.  Lex Luthor is my l...ov...er.  My lo...v...er, Lex.  L...o...v...e...r.

He finally did laugh just a little, shaking his head at himself.

"All right?" Lex asked, still smiling against his neck.

"I don't know if I said it," Clark lied.  "But that was great."

The silence between his speaking and Lex's stretched a beat too long.  Then, "Kind of sudden, wasn't it?"

Clark's smile froze in place, and he held his breath for a few seconds.  Then he let it out in a rush while his face burned.  "Oh... I'm sorry.  I—"

Lex cut him off with a breathy laugh, and finally raised his head so Clark could see him.  His eyes sparkled and looked half glazed over.  "Not you, Clark," he said, and ran the tips of his fingers in a gentle stroke over Clark's hair on his forehead.  "In general.  The whole experience.  It was sudden.  You know, not very... uh, coordinated."

The smile on his face now was self-deprecating, and Clark realized all at once that Lex was trying to say that he—that Lex—hadn't handled things very smoothly.  Clark wanted to laugh uproariously.  If Lex was half apologizing to him for it having been ‘only’ that good, then Clark wasn't sure he would live through whatever Lex's normal level of pleasure giving was.  He figured he could only feel like he was imploding so far before he actually did implode.

"Yeah?" was all he finally said, smiling, but biting back his laughter.  "I think that made it kind of great, though.  I think I like uncoordinated."

"You don't feel like we rushed it through?"

"I think... if we'd waited another minute, Lex, I wouldn't be here to be discussing it.  I seriously think I might have died if you hadn't touched me just then."

Lex's left eyebrow went up, and Clark saw the sarcastic comment sitting on the tip of his tongue regarding the statistics on persons expiring due to lack of sexual contact.  He would have laughed if it came—maybe blushed harder, but definitely laughed along anyway.  But Lex swallowed it.  "Perfect timing, then."

Clark nodded.  "Yeah," he whispered.

It was perfect timing, too, when Lex let the breath of his word die away just long enough before kissing him softly.


*


Clark was literally running circles around Smallville.

He'd left Lex's place long enough before his curfew to make it believable that he was going to walk home.  That gave him plenty of time to mess around and burn off the overwhelming burst of energy he'd suddenly gotten before having to actually walk through the front door and have his parents look at him and just know something was different.

He was on his twelfth round and having a great time.  He wasn't going at his top speed, only just fast enough that he knew no one could see him.  The wind he generated blew his hair back and dried sweat from his face before it even really left his pores.  It felt cold and crisp and much realer than he recalled.  Perhaps, he thought, he'd simply never paid close enough attention to it before.  He'd never realized how it felt like a gift to have it nipping sweetly at his cheeks.

Once before something like this had happened with them, but never both of them together.  It had never happened like this.  Clark had been sure—he'd just known all this time that he shouldn't let that happen.  It was irrefutable: If he cared about someone, he just couldn't do that.  Clark was too dangerous, and people... people were too fragile.

But... look!

All these months—all these years, even—hell, all his life, he'd been so careful, been so worried, been so sure that he couldn't, that he shouldn't...

He'd been so anxious about being with Lex all this time, and nothing had even happened!  Oh, well—things had happened.  Wonderful things had happened.  Incredible things had happened.  Oh, yeah, stuff had happened, all right!  But nothing bad had happened.  No broken bones, no blood, no impromptu trip to the hospital.  He hadn't even broken a single piece of furniture for goodness’ sake!

Grin beyond his control, Clark stopped on a dime in sonic speed and elatedly jumped straight up into the air a good fifty-five feet to grab the uppermost leaf off of a white ash tree on his right.  He hit the ground with a satisfying thunk and a vibration that lasted, then took off again, leaf in hand.  A few more rotations of the town later, he let it go, allowing the wind to rip it out of his field of speed where it circled madly in the air, lost and alone for a long time before it found its way to a comfortable patch of dirt at the side of the road.  Clark ran backwards, watching it, and slowed to a stop so he could follow it down with his eyes in what he'd come to think of as ‘real’ time.

He smiled, watching every nuance of the effect he'd had on the leaf until it came to a quiet and happy rest on the soft earth next to many other leaves of many other trees that had fallen on their own.  Once it was down, you couldn't even tell the difference.  It wasn't even from the same side of town, and you couldn't tell the difference.  It just belonged anyway.

He spun on his heel to check for people, sure if he found even one, he'd scare them half to death with the size of the ear-to-ear grin on his face.  Finding no one, he took off again, going faster for a little while, and cutting through the town a few times in a few different ways.  Lex was right: It had to be endorphins.

No one got this happy over ash leaves.


*


"Hi, Mom!"

She was sitting at the kitchen table making a list and Clark kissed her noisily on the cheek, causing her to titter and almost drop her pen, before he began rifling through the fridge for a snack.

"Well, hello, young man.  And where have you been?" she asked, smiling and bright eyed.

He pulled three-quarters of a double sour cherry pie out of the fridge and placed it on the countertop while he poured himself a glass of milk.  "Just running around," he said truthfully, his smile still stretching his face.  He downed half a glass and poured some more before putting it away.  "Jeez, it's a great night out there, isn't it?  You should go out."

She watched him, looking more than mildly amused while he gulped his milk down.  "Should I?"

He nodded over his glass and pulled a plate from the cupboard, still drinking.  Once it was drained, he decided against a third glass, and put it in the sink instead.  He went about cutting himself a large slice of pie while he chatted.  "All the stars are out, and it's cool, but not cold, and the moon's almost full.  It's really incredible.  Where's dad?"

"He went into town for some parts.  He should be back soon."

"Oh, really?" Clark stopped short of shoving a forkful of pie into his mouth.  "I wish I would have known.  I would've run and got ’em for him.  You guys should go out or something.  This night—it's perfect, you know?"  He gestured at her with his fork.  "You guys don't get enough romance time together."

Her eyes widened as he finally managed his first gigantic bite and chewed with relish, making a small sound of enjoyment.  "Um... maybe you're right.  You'll have to mention that to your father—Clark," she cut herself off, "are you feeling all right?"

Clark nodded and grunted something in the affirmative around a mouthful of cherries.

"Did something happen?"  She leaned forward as if she'd just had an idea.  "Oh, did you just come from the Talon?"

Clark paused and hesitated, then avoided his mother's gaze and focussed on his plate, working another bite off.  "Nn-mm," he grunted, shaking his head.  He swallowed and rushed out, "Just running around," before filling his mouth again—both to avoid answering questions, and because the pie was so good.  He was wondering already if he'd cut a big enough piece for his suddenly ravenous appetite.

"Oh."  She sat back down in her seat, sounding disappointed.

He knew what she was thinking, and smiled big and closed-lipped at her to show his own lack of disappointment.  But the sympathy in her returned smile told him she just thought he was putting on a brave face.  He couldn't help but roll his eyes as he got another bite of his pie.

Sometimes he regretted being so open with his mom regarding his long-lasting obsession with Lana Lang.  It felt to him that he was growing up—growing out of it—but he'd been so adamant about it for so long that he couldn't seem to get away from it.  And the worst part was, he couldn't just say, ‘Mom, I'm not after Lana anymore,’ because she would say, ‘Why?’ and he would... well.

Clark concentrated on eating his pie.

He was just finishing up when his dad walked through the door.  "Hey, Clark."

Clark nodded at him and smiled, still chewing.

"I hope that's not your dinner."

Clark forced it down.  "Nah, I ate over—I ate."

Jonathan sighed and headed for the fridge himself.  "Nothing too fancy, I hope."

Clark shrugged a shoulder and met his mom's eyes.  She was watching him with a different kind of sympathy, and he sort of welcomed it.  "Just chicken," he said, which was true and yet so not.

Stuffed full of fresh ricotta, mozzarella, and parmesan, wrapped in thin sliced prosciutto, seared gently, and roasted through till it was like butter, the two chicken breasts Clark had inhaled probably didn't qualify as ‘just chicken.’  Not to mention the sinful things Lex's chef was able to do with a ‘simple’ side of rice.

Jonathan grunted ambiguously and took a few swigs of milk straight out of the bottle.  Martha shot him The Look, but didn't say anything.  Clark tried not to snicker at his pie.

"You know, your son seems to think it's an incredible night out there and his parents don't get to spend enough quality romantic time together.  What do you think about that?"

Jonathan turned to eye his son.  "I think perhaps he's trying to get the house to himself.  Hm?"

Clark looked up and shrugged.  "Not really," he said around his food.  "I just noticed, that's all."

Feeling scrutinized, Clark hurriedly finished up his pie and put the dish and fork in the sink.  "I'm gonna go out to the loft for a while.  See ya."

"School to-morrow, young man!" his mom called after him.  "Don't stay out there too late."

"Okay!" he called back over his shoulder, and hightailed it to the barn.

His heart was pounding when he finally collapsed into his hammock.  He'd been so caught up in how good he felt about what had happened that he wasn't thinking about not acting any different.  His parents were getting suspicious about what was up with him.  He needed to chill out.

At least out here, in his so-called ‘fortress of solitude,’ he could grin madly at the barn ceiling and feel as goofy and sappy as he wanted.  Just as long as when he went back in there he remembered to school it.

Clark rocked his weight a little, setting the hammock to swinging gently.  He clasped his hands behind his head and focussed on the ceiling, but saw a mile away and back in time instead.

A hand slowly came down, slipped under his shirt, and skimmed over the slightly sticky film left behind after he'd quickly cleaned up with tissues and gotten dressed.  Here in the middle, it was mostly his, but over here to the right of his belly button, and over here on his bottom left rib, that was Lex's.  He remembered—that was Lex's.

It had been a shock to feel it splattering down: Something that somehow he hadn't been expecting, although by all rights he really should have.  So focussed on not letting it happen to himself, and so focussed on not touching Lex too hard or too much, that seeing that just hadn't really occurred to him, nor the thought that maybe Lex was struggling, too.  Maybe he was having just as hard a time of things as Clark was, taking it only so far but no farther.

Clark had assumed it was so difficult because of the things Lex did.  The way Lex touched him, the way he kissed him, the way he was always in control of himself and could think to ask, ‘Is this all right?’ and ‘This isn't too much, right?’  Clark could never think to ask if Lex liked something or wanted something.  He was too busy trying to control himself to be able to communicate.  If Lex was able to do that... Clark figured he must have been perfectly composed about the whole thing.

But that didn't fit, did it?  Not with what he'd seen to-night.  Not with Lex diving in like that, and it all happening so fast.  He hadn't even waited to see if Clark would touch him, he just did it, and it didn't take long at all.  He did it right over him, without even moving from that same spot, as if there just wasn't time or room to think about anything else.  And he hadn't asked any questions then, had he?

Clark's grin grew and his face heated.  He shook his head at himself and actually giggled aloud.

Lying there on his back with his hand under his shirt and thinking about doing that kind of stuff with Lex was starting to make him feel a little weird—maybe kind of dirty in a way he really didn't want to feel at the moment.  He hopped down out of the hammock and walked idly about his loft.  Bending down to peer through his telescope, he gazed upon the rather clear looking surface of Mars for a few seconds before moving on through the room.

He fingered without focus at the papers on his desk, thought about working on the historical report due on Friday, but ultimately decided against it.  He couldn't have concentrated on ancient Babylon right then if you'd paid him.  He found himself leaning on the banister, staring out over the barn, but not actually seeing anything.  Everything he could think of to do just took too much focus, and maybe afterglow lasted longer on his planet, because focus seemed light years away.

Standing there, going over it again and again in his mind's eye, he realized it was all so fuzzy—he couldn't really see much of anything.  He wasn't even sure what Lex's erection had looked like in his hand.  He remembered the clarity of the semen dripping down onto his stomach, how shockingly white it had seemed, like it couldn't have come from anything flesh-coloured.  He remembered a debauching, musky kind of smell that made his eyelids feel heavy and made him want to breathe more and more deeply.  He remembered the way Lex's lips had grazed his collarbone while his smooth scalp brushed Clark's chin.

He remembered the tingling in his groin—could even feel it again now—and how badly he'd wanted Lex to make it worse or make it better.  He remembered Lex's voice low in timbre, rumbling, asking him with such careful concern if it was okay, if he was okay, if it was too much.  He remembered how hearing it had made his heart break, and he remembered the terrifying sensation of his self-restraint snapping in two.

He remembered enough to make him stand there, eyes closed, lips parted, skin growing damp, and pant over the way thinking about it made him feel now.  He remembered the almost pain of contact and the extraordinary relief of release.  He remembered that Lex was all right.  He remembered that no one had gotten hurt.

He remembered wishing he'd had the guts to say, ‘Do you want to do it again?’ and wondered when he would have the guts to say it, or if he would need to.  He remembered Lex's skin under his fingers—the purple silk underwear and Lex's skin.  He'd squeezed down, he remembered that, squeezed down what he thought might have been too hard, but it had ended up being okay.

Clark ran his fingers over the wooden rail under his hands and ignored its roughness.  He'd caressed Lex this softly, felt him like flower petals under his touch.  Felt the fragility, felt the boundary, and he hadn't crossed it.  Even out of control, even squeezing down hard, like this, without focus, he hadn't—

Clark gasped and worked at regaining his balance as he nearly fell forward out of his loft.  His support was suddenly gone.

He looked down in shock as he raised his arm.  A foot-long piece of wood, ragged and broken at each end was in his hand.

Gaping, he stared wide-eyed at where the section had broken off in both places, saw the small pieces that had fluttered down onto the steps below in the dislodging.

"No," he breathed to no one.  "No, it just broke..."

He reached down and almost tried to fit the piece back into place, as if maybe it would be so easy to fix.  But then he just dropped it numbly.  As it clattered down the stairs, he backed several steps away, feeling his heart leap up into his throat.

God, he'd been imagining that handrail was Lex, and without even thinking about it, he'd—

Clark clamped a hand over his mouth to hold back the sickly sensation he felt climbing up his esophagus.

It wasn't Lex.  It wasn't Lex's skin, Lex's body that had snapped like that.  No, it wasn't Lex... but it could have been—that easily.  He hadn't even tried, hadn't even thought about using his strength, and that thick piece of wood, much stronger than Lex's skin could ever be, had just ripped off in his hand.  He wasn't even trying, and he'd just ripped it to pieces!

A loud broken sob came through his fingers as he launched into a human speed run down the stairs and out the barn door.

He stopped just outside, hunched over, and wondered if he might be sick—if that was possible.  Hot tears burned over his cheekbones, and he swiped at them angrily.  He wanted to scream, but couldn't.  He wanted to throw up, but couldn't.  He wanted to hurt himself.  He tried.  But he couldn't.

Finally, he fell to his knees in the dirt, both hands clamped hard over his mouth while he bawled.  His shoulders shook in the dark, and his fingers grew wet as he cried as quietly as he could for a long, long time.


*


The moon had moved a visible distance across the night sky by the time Clark managed to control his hiccoughs and felt his face beginning to dry.

He pulled his shirt up just over his head so he could use the inside to wipe under his eyes and nose.  He felt dry and swollen, knew his eyes were red and he must look awful and his parents would know something was horribly wrong the moment they saw him.

As soon as he thought about all of these things, his throat tightened again, and his face screwed up tight.  He let out one sob before pushing the sensation away violently and struggling to his feet.  He couldn't sit out here all night long and cry.  His parents would start to wonder.  They'd come looking for him.  Then he'd have to explain, and the way he felt right now, he didn't know that he'd be able to not come out with it all in a rush if he was asked.

Trying not to think about anything, trying just to be presentable, just for a few minutes, he brushed the dirt off his knees and smoothed his clothes.  He used his sleeve to wipe at his tears some more, then blinked rapidly, waving cool air at his face to try to cool it down.

The silence and stillness that pervaded as he tried to normalize himself began to get to him.  His eyes stung again.  His throat tightened.

He bit it back hard and made a run for it into the house, struggling to get up the stairs and to his room before it hit him again.

His parents’ heads snapped up when he burst through the door, and he rushed by them, not meeting either gaze.  Mumbling some weak excuse about being tired, he quickly jetted up the stairs and was careful to shut his bedroom door quietly behind him.  He knew his parents must have thought he was on drugs or some terrible thing the way his moods swung back and forth, but couldn't bring himself to care.

He collapsed onto his bed, shoved his face into a pillow to muffle himself, and screamed.

Stupid!  He was so stupid!  He could have killed Lex!  He could have permanently maimed him.  He'd been nothing more than lucky that his fingers hadn't sunk right through that fragile, breakable flesh.  What was he doing?  What did he think he was doing?

He screamed again, clamping a second pillow over the back of his head to muffle himself further.

His whole life, he'd known he was dangerous.  He remembered, as a child, having his strength very carefully explained to him.  Control was a word made of gold.  Control was to be his standard.  Control was necessary.  It had always been necessary.

It hadn't taken long before he'd realized that control of his strength meant control of his emotions.  See the hole in the wall from when Clarkie got angry and kicked?  See Daddy's broken finger from when Clarkie got scared and squeezed?  See Mommy's crushed broach from when Clarkie got excited and grabbed?

Controlling himself inside and out was the only way to stop things from getting broken—to stop people from getting broken.

So what did Clark think?  Did he honestly believe that because he had these new feelings, these all-consuming feelings, he could just toss aside everything he'd concentrated to learn and struggled to follow his whole life?  Just because they were new emotions, stronger emotions, did that mean all of the previous rules didn't apply?  Just because his body reacted so completely to Lex's closeness, because it felt so right to be near him, to be with him, did he think that meant that it was beyond requiring his self-restraint?

Clark sobbed uncontrollably into his pillow, clamped the other down tighter to hold the sound in.

"It doesn't matter!" he screamed, the words lost in feathers and filling.

He'd been doing so well for so long, he couldn't believe he'd lost restraint so quickly.  Couldn't believe he'd managed to convince himself that he had some magical measure inside that would stop him from hurting Lex in passion like he'd hurt so many other things in other rushes of emotion.

The kinds of feelings didn't matter.  The intensity of the emotion didn't matter.  How much he wanted to protect someone didn't matter if he didn't have control of himself.

He knew that!  He'd always known that!

Clark Kent was not made for gentle things.


*


Clark's lips were tight, his hands barely brushed Lex's neck and shoulder, tickling more than stroking, and Lex wanted to scratch where they'd been.

He sighed and turned his head the other way, tried to intensify their kiss and failed.  He tangled his fingers in Clark's hair and pulled him closer, but the lips would not part for him.

That was the way it was sometimes, and Lex wasn't put off much.  He simply abandoned Clark's lips and aimed for his earlobe instead, pulling it into his mouth and suckling while he breathed hot air into Clark's ear canal.  His hands were working up Clark's back, stroking, and he began to wonder how it was possible for muscles to be this tense and yet the person not be in excruciating pain.

"Relax," Lex mumbled against Clark's pulse.  "I don't expect anything from you.  We can keep going slow."  He traced a line down until his lips collided with Clark's clavicle, and he laid a string of wet kisses along it.

"I'm relaxed," Clark said.

Lex chuckled against his skin.  "Then I'd hate to see you tense."  With a sigh, Lex finally pulled back and met Clark's eyes.  "Are you all right?  Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Clark shook his head and offered a quick, uninspired smile that told Lex nothing new.

He struggled not to frown.  He'd been afraid of such a result.  Last time it had gone too far too fast and he'd let it happen.  He should have stopped, should have taken a moment to discuss where they were going, should have kept his hands to the outside.  A few seconds of release exchanged for this kind of tension was too high a price to pay.

There was fear in Clark's eyes: Fear of what was to come, maybe even fear of what had been.  Lex wanted to invent time travel and go back and erase it.  Too much too soon and there was nothing he could do to take it back.

"Clark, you know that just because it happened once..." he trailed off, looking for some way to say it that didn't feel awkward.

Clark opened his mouth, looked as if he was going to say something expository, but then didn't.  Instead he shrugged and smiled again: That same smile of non-information.  His fingertips teased the skin of Lex's right arm.

"I don't expect anything from you," Lex finally finished, unable to find anything to say that wasn't repetitive.

"I know," Clark said.  It was unconvincing.  It was just how one responds to such a declaration.

Lex was trying to think of something else soothing to offer, and several beats of silence went by while he worked at it.

"How was work?" Clark asked.

Lex flinched.  How was work?  How was work?

The intent was clear.  ‘How was...?’ was an after make-out session question.  That was to where it had always been relegated.  That was when it had always been voiced.  How was work?  What was wrong?

"Boring," Lex said, sounding nearly as stunned as he felt.  "Normal."

He was supposed to ask how school was.  He knew that.  He had the ritual burned quite clearly into his mind, but he couldn't bring that question forth.  There were too many others that he actually wanted to voice.

"Good."  Another not-really-smile.

Lex wanted to slice himself open.  What the hell had he been thinking?  How could he not have realized that what they'd done so haphazardly would make Clark so distant so quickly?

"What about you?  Is there something going on?  Something you'd like to talk about?  You know I'm happy to listen to whatever you want to say."

Clark shrugged, looking unmoved.  He couldn't have done worse with feathers instead of fingers.  Lex ached to scratch at the places he was almost touching.  "I'm fine.  Chloe's following this new story about meteor rocks affecting the feed grain coming out of Smallville, and the grain going to other parts of the country and affecting the livestock that consume it, and it in turn affecting people all over the world who consume the milk and meat, so she's got me running my butt off trying to get statistics and details and manifests, and she's driving me nuts."

Lex tried to play along, offered a small smile.  "Almost enough to make a guy go vegetarian."

Clark rubbed a hand over his stomach.  "Not with pork chops like that.  Whatever you pay your chef, it isn't enough."

"I'll make a note to increase his salary."  For a moment, just one moment, it started to feel warm and natural, this discourse.  Then he remembered that the whole point of it was that Clark was avoiding being with him.

He finally gave in and shooed Clark's maddening fingertips away from his arm to scratch at it.

"Sorry," Clark muttered, and Lex shrugged it off.

The room was growing colder by the second, and Lex actually began to wish he hadn't taken off his shirt.  But Clark was putting plenty of distance between them himself.  Lex wasn't about to pull away and add his own.  "A little cold in here, isn't it?"

Clark twisted around and, after a second of incomprehension, Lex's jaw dropped.  Clark found Lex's shirt on the floor and offered it to him.  Lex continued to gape in disbelief even as Clark held it in front of him and one of the cuffs dangled down to brush between their bare chests.  Clark just watched him, the expression on his face still telling Lex nothing.

A good twenty seconds went by.  Finally, Lex slowly reached out and took it.  Clark's lips ghosted a smile, and just as quickly, it was as if it had never been.

After a pause, Lex made a decision.  He balled the shirt up in his hands and tossed it across the room.  Clark would have to get up to go get it now.

"A little cold in here... isn't it?" he asked again.

Clark actually glanced over his shoulder as if to see where the shirt had landed.

Lex grabbed him by the biceps, and his head snapped back to meet Lex's stare.  "Clark, what the hell is going on?  God, if I'd known it was going to make you this distant, I never would have let it happen."

"Let what happen?  I'm not distant."

"Clark, you're on another fucking planet."

Clark flinched, and Lex shut his mouth with an audible click.  He'd always been careful not to use crude language in front of Clark, but it had just kind of slipped out.

"I'm sorry.  Excuse me.  I just... I feel like we made a mistake, and now we're suffering for it.  I wish I could go back and change things.  You seem so uncomfortable just being here.  I don't want you to feel like this."

"I'm not uncomfortable, Lex."  Lex struggled not to roll his eyes and argue immediately.  "I... I'm not saying it was a mistake.  I'm just saying... I wanted to go slow, and—"

"I know; I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry.  It's not your fault.  I'm the one... Well."

"We can go back, Clark."  Lex's eyes flickered across the room, and he suddenly wished he hadn't thrown his shirt so far away.  "To how it was.  You don't have to feel like this about us."

"Can we?"  The question wasn't hopeful.  It was just negative.

"Of course," Lex breathed.  He squeezed at Clark's shoulders and struggled to make their eye contact just fierce enough that Clark couldn't look away.  "We can take this at whatever speed you want.  I know it's all new to you."

Clark swallowed, and grimaced more than smiled.  Lex flinched almost violently when he realized Clark's eyes were reddening.  Then he was even more surprised to have to blink as his own did the same in sympathy.

"Clark..."

"We didn't do a very good job last time."  His voice was uneven.  His face tensed in places that told Lex he was seconds from at least sniffling if not actually crying.

Lex wanted to cry, himself, but only because he didn't understand why Clark was.  God, had Clark been so sheltered from sexuality that the gentle things they did together emotionally affected him so much?  He acted as if he was terrified of sex: Like it was something he had to dodge or it would get him.

"We can do better," Lex said, voice wispy, and swallowed against the thickness in his throat.  "It's okay."

"I just don't want to screw it up, Lex."  Clark was whispering, and he finally did sniffle.  He broke their eye contact and looked down at his own fingers scratching idly at the tiny strip of cushion between them.

"You're not screwing anything up."  Lex gently wrapped his arms farther around Clark's warm bare back, and shuffled closer when pulling didn't work.

Clark laid his head on Lex's shoulder, but Lex could barely even feel the weight of it.  It was as if he wasn't truly there at all.

"Please try to relax.  We'll just lie here for a while, all right?  Just try not to be so tense.  It's okay."  He placed a chaste kiss on the side of Clark's neck, hoping to soothe and not stimulate, then rested his chin on the broad shoulder and squeezed him a little tighter.

"God, I'm sorry I'm so weird," Clark muttered.

Lex chuckled quietly.  "You're not weird, Clark.  It's just new.  I know.  But you don't have to be afraid.  You know I'd never hurt you, right?"

Clark made a sound against his shoulder that might have been a gasp or one breathy laugh, then sniffled again.  "Yeah, I know that."

"You don't have to stress out about it.  We'll only do what you're ready for, when you're ready for it.  I'm not in any hurry.  I'm not going anywhere.  Okay?"

The choked sound out of Clark's throat Lex only half heard, because all of his focus went to the sudden strong beat he felt against his thigh where Clark's groin was resting.  The muscles of his leg twitched in place with an almost uncontrollable desire to rub at that interested bulge, but he just tightened up every fiber and forced himself to remain still.  Minds and bodies did not always agree.  Better to listen to what Clark had whispered than to what his flesh was screaming.

Clark's arms were around him, but Lex could barely have told if not for the heat soaking him through, because there was simply no pressure.  The cheek pressing softly, barely, against his shoulder was scalding yet pleasant.

"I'm not going anywhere," Lex mumbled again, kissed Clark's neck again.  There was another, slighter throb against his thigh, but he ignored it.

With a shift in mood that Lex could almost hear, Clark's arms and leg wound farther around him, and he could finally feel some weight, if not any strength.  Clark groaned quietly into Lex's shoulder and held him just a little tighter.

Lex pressed a few more close-mouthed kisses against Clark's skin, wondering at the reaction he was getting.  Clark turned his head to do the same, his lips feeling swollen and overheated.  His embrace began to turn feverish and fervent, and this time it was Lex throbbing against Clark's hip.

All at once, Clark gasped, let him go, and scrambled up to the other side of sofa.  Lex's arms were left open and empty, the air cold and bracing on his chest.  Missing only a short beat, Lex turned on his back, clasped his hands behind his head, and smiled calmly at Clark, who was panting on the cushion farthest from him.  He pretended nothing was unusual about any of this.

"Clark. Hey," he said softly, and patted at the middle of Clark's back with the ball of his foot.

Clark took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and finally looked at him.  One corner of his mouth went up minutely in a frightened little smile, and he looked quietly expectant of Lex's next words.

Lex thought about soothing again, but then didn't.  He just flashed a grin.  "Hey, you wanna watch a film?  I don't think I've seen one all the way through in months."

A pause, then Clark snorted loudly and laughed a little.  Lex smirked his victory.  There would be no more angst here to-day, damn it!

"You choose," Lex said, pushing gently with his foot at the small of Clark's back.  "Not a horror movie.  For a change."

Clark nodded and smiled for real this time, then got up and crossed the room to look at Lex's DVD collection.

The moment Clark looked away, Lex's gaze slid to the left and he eyed his shirt across the room, wondering if he should move to get it, but not wanting to.  He decided to wait and see if Clark put his own back on.

Clark took his time, and Lex didn't miss him swiping at his face occasionally, but he pretended not to notice.  Finally he had one in hand and turned, offering it up as if for approval, his eyes still rimmed in red.  Lex didn't look at the box, and didn't acknowledge he recognized the sadness in Clark's eyes, he just nodded and smiled.

He watched Clark turn on the flat screen and put the movie in to play.  Lex's legs twitched in place as he started to sit up, then didn't.  Again, he decided to wait and see what Clark would do.  If Clark motioned him to sit up and scoot over, he would, but only then.

He was more than a little surprised when, without preamble, Clark climbed over him, wedged himself behind Lex and against the back of the sofa, spooned him, and settled down to watch.  Slightly disoriented from the unexpected manoeuvre, Lex forgot to focus on the movie until the opening credits were finished rolling, and he missed the opening teaser scene.

He couldn't have cared less.  While the film flashed over his unresponsive eyes, one of Lex's hands slowly snuck up his own body.  It took many minutes of hesitant inching before his fingers finally came to rest on Clark's forearm over his chest.  There was shuffling as Clark adjusted, getting his other arm under Lex's body and over, so that he could close his free hand over Lex's.  After a moment's pause, Lex turned his wrist and gently grasped Clark's warm fingers, and so they watched the rest of their movie cuddling on the couch and holding hands.

It was a stupid film with little to no plot and which Lex had seen before, and he was grateful for all of these things.  There would be minimum, if any, discussion afterwards that he would have to try to keep up with.

Half an hour into it, Clark's zipper was digging into his tailbone, he was getting a crick in his neck, and his left arm was falling asleep, but he never lost his smile.

An hour into it, he'd managed to adjust his arm just enough to get some blood flowing, tilted his neck just enough to not be completely uncomfortable, and was having just a little trouble keeping conscious.  He calculated he only had about forty minutes to go, and knew he could certainly make it.

What felt like two minutes later, he was being shaken gently, and opened his eyes to a blank screen.

He inhaled deeply, stretched a bit, and creased his brow at the television.  When he realized he must have slept through the last half, he turned to glance at Clark over his shoulder.

Clark was smiling teasingly at him.  "You fell asleep."

"Mm," Lex agreed and turned back toward the TV.  "Was it any good?" he mumbled.

"No," Clark laughed.  "It sucked."

Lex chuckled and turned to press his face more fully against the sofa cushion.  He flattened his back into the warmth of Clark's body, getting the kinks out.  Then he went limp, feeling as if he could pass right back out at any second.  "Wanna watch another one?" he asked, half grinning into the upholstery.

"So you can fall asleep again?" Clark's voice was amused.

Still smiling, Lex turned to look over his shoulder.  "It's comfortable," he murmured, and met Clark's eyes out of the very corner of his own.

Clark smiled back at him and they watched one another for a beat, that turned into a moment, that went on for a bit too long.  Lex felt his gaze tugging to drop down to Clark's lips, but he didn't let it.  It was a few seconds past that sensation when Clark started glancing down at his.  Lex waited, but made no move to kiss him, as Clark looked into his eyes, then at his lips, then back over and over again.

At length, Clark began to bite at his own bottom lip, looking nervous.  Lex's smile grew and he looked away, toward the ceiling, to break the tension.  He stretched his back out, which pressed him tighter against Clark's chest, then looked over just in time as Clark's face was moving toward him.  He only barely placed the softest of kisses on Lex's lips, and Lex responded in kind, keeping his mouth closed and hardly pursing.

Clark retracted, his smile looking apologetic.

Lex wanted to say that it was all right, but it seemed like the wrong thing to say.  Then Clark stopped him from having to say anything when he moved forward to buss Lex's lips softly once again.

So soft.  Unreasonably soft.  As if Clark thought Lex's lips hurt for some reason and he didn't want to make it worse.

When he'd pulled away, Lex scraped his bottom teeth over his top lip.  It felt like it had been tickled.  It felt like Clark had been trying to tickle him all night long.

Determined not to dwell on these things, but to enjoy the rest of the short time they had together, Lex turned fully around and wrapped Clark up in his arms.  "How long do you have?"

Clark checked his watch.  "About an hour."

Lex glanced at it.  "Does that thing have an alarm?"

"Yeah."

"Why don't you set it?  We can lie here for a while, maybe take a nap."

A slight hesitation, and then Clark smiled a quick agreement and began pressing buttons around the face.  The display changed rapidly, and Lex noticed for the first time how many buttons Clark's watch had.

"Looks like you've got everything on that thing."

"Yeah, I'm a high tech kinda guy," Clark said wryly, never taking his eyes off of it while he set it.

Lex smiled and watched his face.  He apparently didn't set the alarm on his watch very often, because he was concentrating, and it was taking a while.  So Lex took the time to study him.

He hoped, he supposed, to find some sort of answer there on Clark's face: An answer written so plainly, Lex would kick himself that he hadn't noticed it before.  But he found no such thing.  Concentration and some hint of worry.  It told him nothing.

When Clark met his eyes again, he was smiling softly, and he wrapped his arms gently around Lex's back.

Lex thought about asking a question—about asking many questions.  But ultimately he decided that whatever this conversation was, it could wait until next time.  So he just smiled back and slid his face forward, in between Clark's neck and the sofa.  He pressed his nose against the warm skin and brushed an almost-kiss there.  Then he took in and let out a deep, cleansing breath and closed his eyes.

Clark's arms were warm, but not heavy, which he found to be a strange sensation.  It was as if Clark wasn't actually holding him, but was just hovering so close to his skin that it seemed like he was.  After a few minutes, Lex felt the smallest of chills on the exposed part of his left arm.  He backed out of his warm refuge to meet Clark's eyes and suggest getting a blanket.

The second after he looked, Clark's face went slack.  But what Lex saw beforehand made his jaw drop.

Clark's eyes had been locked wide open and tense, his jaw clenching tight, his brow creased deeply with tension, the muscles of his face twitching.

Now he looked only slightly expectant and mild, but Lex knew what he had seen.

"Jesus, Clark, what's wrong?" he asked in shock.

Clark shook his head as if surprised by the question.  "Nothing."

Lex flinched back, sighed harshly.  "Nothing," he repeated blandly.  "Clark, you looked terrified.  What is going on?  Please... tell me."

"Nothing," Clark repeated, quieter this time, and with a tone that said he knew he wasn't very convincing.  "I just... I just don't want to screw anything up."

"What do you think you're going to screw up, Clark?  What is it you think is going to happen?"

Clark shrugged one shoulder and wouldn't meet Lex's eyes.

Lex sighed and tried to guess.  "Are you afraid to go to sleep?  Are you afraid something's going to happen if you fall asleep?"

Another shrug, but this one more jerky, and Lex felt he might have hit on something.

He struggled to continue the thought.  "Are you afraid you won't wake back up and you'll miss your curfew?"

Clark was silent for a moment, as if he was considering whether to say yes or no to that question, then shrugged again and twitched his wrist a little.  "I set the alarm."

"Then what is it?" Lex asked, not leaving room for breath.  "Do you think if we sleep together it... it means something?"

Clark shrugged yet again and Lex's sigh was sharp.  He didn't like taking stabs in the dark, and felt he was getting farther and farther from the right questions to ask.

"Clark, I wish you'd talk to me.  Whatever it is, whatever you—whatever's bothering you... I'd like to help if I can.  I'd like to help you get through it, past it, and if I can't do that, then I could at least listen.  Don't you think it would help to talk about it?"

Clark almost shrugged, but didn't.  "I just... Lex, do you ever...?"

He wanted to lean up on his elbow with his interest, but found it best not to pull away.  "Do I ever what?"

"I don't know.  It's just that sometimes I feel kind of out of control.  You know?  I feel like maybe I might do something without meaning to, or do something wrong because I'm not trying hard enough.  I just don't feel like I... should do some things.  Because of feeling like that.  Like... I don't have enough control."

"Do you mean with us?  You know you're in control of everything we do and don't do.  You know that, right?"

"No, I know.  I don't mean that.  I mean... in control of myself.  When I'm with you."

Lex couldn't help but smirk a little.  "Do I make you feel out of control, Clark?" he asked in a low, teasing voice.

Clark didn't smile back.  "Sometimes," he said quietly, seriously.

Lex sobered.  "Well, you make me feel out of control all the time.  Which is why I'm glad you're in control of us.  Because I'd just go crazy."  He offered a lopsided smile.

Clark's lips turned up the slightest bit.  He laughed a little.

"But, Clark... I don't think sleeping for a little while is going to make you do anything out of control.  ...Do you?"

"What if I do something wrong when I'm sleeping?"

Lex felt his whole face screw up in complete befuddlement, and Clark suddenly looked away as if embarrassed.  "Clark, I'm sorry.  I just don't understand.  What is it you think you're going to do?"

"I don't know," he rushed.  "I'm just being stupid.  Just—I'm sorry.  Ignore me."

Lex let out a sharp breath through his nose in frustration.  His curiosity was nagging at him to press the issue, but it was obvious Clark didn't want to talk about it.  Lex tried to let it just slide off his back.  "Hey, look," he said, massaging at Clark's biceps.  "I really don't think anything bad's going to happen.  Why don't we just... lie here and try to sleep?  Hm?  We can give it a try, can't we?" he asked, shifting his head to try to catch Clark's gaze.

Clark lifted one shoulder and it stayed there for a second before he let it drop.  "Yeah, I guess," he mumbled.

The fact that Lex was now irritated as all hell and didn't feel the slightest bit like sleeping made itself apparent to him at this moment, and he chose to disregard it.  The last time he and Clark had spent time together, he'd jerked them both off.  Now he was having the worst trouble just trying to get Clark to go to sleep on the same surface as him.  Clark was definitely the most perplexing individual Lex had ever had the unique pleasure of knowing.

"Are you mad at me?" Clark whispered, staring at his own hand barely touching Lex's arm.

Lex's insides liquefied on aural contact.  "No," he said softly, drawing it out.  "No, of course not, Clark.  Don't think that."

"I'm sorry I'm acting so weird.  I just... I freak myself out sometimes."

"We all do, Clark.  It's all right."

There was the smallest of smiles in response, and when Lex offered his own, it grew.  He kissed Clark softly on the mouth—though not as softly as Clark had been kissing him, because he wasn't even sure he was able—then held him close and comfortable, and settled down.

Clark never did fall asleep.  Neither of them did.  They simply lay there in one another's arms for nearly an hour, not talking, only occasionally kissing, and trying very hard to relax.


*


All Clark wanted right now was to collapse on his loft's sofa, cross his arms over his face, and cry.

He kept thinking back to the day when he'd asked Lex to go back to the beginning, and Lex had misunderstood, thinking Clark was breaking up with him.  And he kept wondering why he hadn't just let that misconception stick.  It would have been better all the way around.

Better for Lex, definitely.

He couldn't be close to anyone.  He couldn't be close to Lex, and Lex was suffering for his lack of ability.  Clark knew Lex was no sex maniac like some of the trash rags said, but they'd been together for kind of a long time.  Lex had been patient and calm and understanding with him, but he had to have been missing it.  Clark couldn't fully understand, not actually knowing what it was he was missing, but he could imagine that it must be pretty frustrating.

And what was this about ‘going slow’?  He kept telling Lex he wanted to ‘go slow,’ but that wasn't it at all.  Clark wasn't ever going to be able to move beyond what they'd already had.  Sometimes he fooled himself that in time he'd become somewhat immune to the things they did over and over, that he wouldn't lose control so quickly, and so they could do a little more, then later, a little more, and so on.

But that was just ridiculous.  If he was honest with himself, the truth was that he didn't even have to be near Lex to lose control of himself.  All he had to do was think about him.  Just ask the banister.

He looked up at this thought, wondering if he might feel better if he sneered at it.  He was a little surprised to see his dad kneeling there, fixing what Clark had broken.

It had been two days.  He should have done it himself by now, but he couldn't bear to even look at it.  Clark's shoulders hunched, and he pushed his hands into his pockets.

"Hi, Dad."

Jonathan stopped what he was doing and glanced around the support beam to nod toward his son.  "Hey, Clark.  Just in time.  Give me a hand up here, will you?"

Clark nodded, though already his dad was back to work and so couldn't see it.  He shuffled up the steps.  "I'm sorry," he mumbled when he was close enough that he figured he could be heard.

"What's that?"

"I'm sorry," he said a little more clearly.

His dad looked up at him with a creased brow, then laughed.  "What are you sorry about?  I didn't notice it was rotting through, either."  He gestured toward a section of the handrail halfway down the steps.  "Found a few more places that need replaced, too.  I'm just glad no one got hurt when it went.  Your mother could have been up here.  Here, hand me that angle bracket."

His dad knelt there with his hand out, reaching toward the bent piece of metal not far from Clark's right shoe.  But Clark couldn't move.

Rot?  ...Rot?

Clark's eyes shifted from his father's opened hand (which was slowly lowering from his lack of response) to the section of the handrail that was missing.  He looked at it closely.  It was smooth.  His dad had apparently scraped parts of it away.  His gaze travelled down and fell on dark, dry flakes of eaten wood littering the edge of the floor.  Rotten wood.  Weak, breakable, spongy rotten wood.

The banister had been rotting through for who knew how long.  It was rot?  It wasn't him not knowing his own strength?  It wasn't his mind wandering and his focus dimming and him breaking something normal by being a klutz and a freak?

Jonathan's still empty hand finished falling and hit his own jean-clad thigh with a slap.  "Clark," he said in exasperation.  "What is going on with you lately, son?"

"I don't—" Clark cut himself off to lean down and get the bracket for his dad.  He handed it over with shaking fingers, and Jonathan paused a moment before taking it from him.

He was conscious of his father eying him in consternation, but couldn't pull his own pointed gaze away from the pile of rotten wood shavings.  They were the most beautiful rotten wood shavings he'd ever seen.  He wanted to gather them up, spread them out over poster board, glue them on, shellac them, and keep them for posterity.

His eyes were growing wider and wider—he could feel them stretching.  Then his dad said his name again, a little more sharply, and Clark finally looked at him.  And then he felt his face be taken over by a huge grin.

His father looked completely perplexed.

"Nothing," Clark said, laughing through it.  "I'll help."

Finally getting his butt into gear, he gathered up the tools his dad was finished with and moved down the stairs to the other section that had been pointed out to him.  Hunkering down, he peered up at the handrail from underneath, and saw the rot eating through from the bottom.  Just the sight of it made him have to hold back an elated laugh.

As he cut out the bad section of wood, his mind was in a whirl.

What did this mean, now?  Had he been right about being able to keep control of himself in certain situations?  Should he focus on what had happened—and more to the point, what hadn't happened—that first time when Clark had lost it right in his pants?  Or even the second time when Lex had actually touched him flesh to flesh, and no one had gotten hurt?  Were those times the norm, and not just luck?

Could he have a close relationship with Lex?  Maybe he really was capable of being sexual.  Maybe, if he was really careful...

Clark shook his head once to clear it.  Wait a minute.  No need getting out of hand.  Okay, so he hadn't torn a perfectly fine banister to pieces with his bare hands without even trying.  But that didn't mean he was suddenly normal.

He was still too strong.  He still wasn't meant for gentle things...  Lex was still fragile.

Clark sighed heavily, leaning his fists on the tops of his legs, chisel still in hand.

He cared about Lex.  What he was doing wasn't fair.  Lex didn't know what he was getting himself into.  That was the thing that really mattered: Maybe Clark might be able to control himself; maybe he might be able to be careful enough and not ever hurt him.  But Lex didn't even have the choice to say, ‘No.  I'm not going to put my life in your hands while you try to figure out whether or not you can exercise self-restraint during sex.’

But he couldn't tell him.  He couldn't tell anyone.  He knew that.

And he really didn't know if he could... leave.

So... what should he do?


*


He had three days to think things over before he was set to meet with Lex again, so he decided to just go about his life for now.

He was actually doing a pretty good job focussing on his studying.  Sitting in the Talon with Lana, Chloe, and Pete, sipping lattes, and flipping through American History books really made a guy feel normal for a change.

The last couple of times he'd looked up, he'd gotten the impression that Lana had just looked away, and he was trying not to read anything into that.  He'd also noticed Pete eying Chloe, and Chloe eying Lana, and was starting to wonder if he was the only one actually studying.

He finished the last of his coffee and put the cup down.  A second later, Lana had it in her hand.  "Did you want more coffee, Clark?"

Clark shook his head.  "No, thanks," he said, and smiled amiably, then turned his attention back to his studies.

He glanced up again when Chloe offered her own cup.  "As long as you're getting up, I could use a refill," she said with a smile.

Lana paused as she was putting Clark's cup back where she'd got it.  She hesitated, then smiled back and took Chloe's cup from her.  "Pete?"

Pete looked ready to bail.  "Nah, I'm fine."  When she walked away, Pete shot an incredulous look toward Chloe, who just shrugged and went back to her book.

Clark's brow furrowed up at it all.  "What's that all about?" he asked under his breath.

Chloe looked up at him and smiled.  "I don't know what you mean."

Clark looked at Pete.  Pete's eyes widened, and he looked back at his book.

Clark wasn't really sure how to voice his discomfort about the exchange that had taken place.  It was a little disturbing the way it had only seemed pleasant on the surface, but almost antagonistic underneath.  When no one looked at him again until Lana returned with Chloe's coffee, he decided to just let it go.

"Oh, hey Clark, I almost forgot," Chloe said suddenly.  Everyone looked at her.  "Were you able to get those manifests I asked about?  I'm hoping to get this article into next week's Torch."

"Oh.  Yeah, I have them.  Most of them, anyway.  I'm waiting for a couple e-mails from trucking companies."

"Maybe we could go over them after school to-morrow?"

"Um..."  Clark quickly checked his mental to do list.  "Yeah, that should be fine.  I'll meet you in the office."

"Great."  She smiled at him, showing white teeth and pink gums, and he couldn't help but smile back at her enthusiasm, though he was sure he wasn't going to enjoy going over boring trucking manifests for a far-fetched story for the Torch.

The four of them studied in silence for a while.  Then unexpectedly, Lana piped up.  "The movie house is showing Bride of Re-Animator at midnight on Friday.  I remember you saying you wanted to see that.  I thought maybe we could check it out together."

Clark glanced up quickly.  Lana was offering him a friendly, open smile.  "Oh.  Um... Yeah, I did."  He went over his internal checklist again, and realized he didn't yet have plans for Friday night.  "Sure.  That'll be fun."

She nodded, and her smile grew until it wrinkled her nose, which, while adorable, confused him.  Why was Lana so happy about going to see a horror movie?  He was pretty sure she wasn't a big fan of horror movies in general.

Clark looked over at Pete and Chloe who were putting off every impression that they hadn't heard the conversation.  "Are you guys going?"

"First I've heard about it," Chloe muttered without looking up.

Lana's hand crept across the table as if she was going to touch Clark's, then she pulled it back.  "I just thought that I'd ask you because I knew you'd wanted to see it.  You saw the first one, right?"

Clark nodded.

Lana smiled again, and went back to studying, and no one said anything more about it.

Clark decided to ignore whatever the weird vibe in the room was, and the four of them remained pretty much silent for the rest of the cram session.  It was ten thirty when he closed his book and stretched his arms over his head.  "I think that's all my brain can handle for now," he said with a sigh.

"Same here."  Pete closed his book with finality, and the girls followed suit.  "Clark, walk with me to my car, will ya?  I've gotta talk to you."

"Yeah, okay."  He got to his feet and smiled at the girls as they started putting their things away.  "See you at school."

"See ya, Clark," Chloe said, and waved.

"Bye, Clark," Lana all but whispered, smiling.

Chloe noticeably rolled her eyes as she shoved her books into her bag, and Clark shot her a flummoxed look that she never saw.

Walking out to the parking lot, Pete was quiet until they were nearly to his car.  Then he glanced behind him before saying a word.  "Are you doin’ all right, man?  I mean, you've been kind of distant lately.  What's up?"  He lowered his voice to a whisper.  "New power or somethin’?"

"No.  No, I'm fine.  Have I been distant?  I'm sorry."

Pete shrugged as if to say no apology was needed.  "Nah, that's all right.  I just wanted to check.  You know, make sure everything's cool."

"Yeah, everything's fine," he shrugged.  "No new weirdness or anything.  Thanks, though."

"Sure."  He clapped Clark's shoulder and started to get into his car.

"Hey, Pete."

Pete paused halfway into the seat, the door still open.  "Yeah?"

"Do you... do you have any idea what that was all about?"  Clark hooked a thumb over his shoulder.  "Back there, I mean?"

"Huh?  Oh, them?  Who knows?  Girls, huh?"  He grinned, showing off his straight, white teeth, and made the rest of the way into his convertible.  "Catch you later, man."

"Yeah, see ya."

Clark was left standing in the parking lot alone while Pete sped off.  He stood there, wondering what was going on with everyone, or if maybe it was really just him, and so was slightly distracted when he saw one of Lex's cars zoom by on the road.  Clamping down on the silly urge to call Lex's name when he couldn't possibly hear, he jogged to the sidewalk and looked after it, but Lex was apparently just passing through.

He sighed into the cool night air as his thoughts went right back to what had been bothering him to begin with, and he forgot all about his friends’ odd interaction in the Talon.

Clark still hadn't decided what to do about he and Lex—hadn't even gotten close to deciding.  Oh, he knew what he wanted to do... and he knew what he should do... or at least, he thought he knew what he should do.  But maybe he was wrong about that.  Maybe... he just wasn't very sure of much of anything.

He watched the tail lights of Lex's car until they went around the bend and out of his field of vision.  When he could no longer see any piece of the gorgeous silver Aston Martin V12 Vanquish, he shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled back to the truck.

Maybe trying to ‘go about his life’ wasn't necessarily the best course of action.  Right now, the most important thing going on was Lex, and he needed to ‘go about’ devoting more time to thinking about what to do about the two of them.  He was already lying to Lex about himself.  He at least owed him not hiding from responsibility.

He'd go home, have a soothing shower, get something to eat, go to bed early, and lie there considering what to do.  Maybe he'd even make one of those pro vs. con lists...


*


Water flew from his fist as it stroked frenetically over his erection.  He leaned on the wall with his other hand, fingers tensed, nails scraping at a line of grout, and tried to remember not to push too hard.

A small sound escaped his throat, but in his imagination, it was Lex's voice, and his cock jumped in his hand in response.  His hips pumped forward without rhythm as the wave inside him started to crest.  He squeezed harder as his hand sped up past the point of normality, and then he ground his teeth tight together to muffle the yell that came with his hard earned orgasm.

Pumping his hips through every spurt of pleasure so intense it threatened to become pain, he watched white dribble out of the tip of him and mix with warm water to spiral down the drain.  It wasn't hard to imagine that the flesh in his hand was paler and missing a piece.  It wasn't hard to imagine that the fluid he was squeezing out of it was a confirmation of Lex's desire for him.

When the final shudder passed through him, bringing the last few drops of fluid with it, Clark fell forward toward the wall, leaning his wet forehead against it and panting.  It was cold against his skin, which only felt good for a few seconds, and then he moved his forearm underneath his head to have something softer to rest on.

Still getting his breath back, he glanced out of the corner of his eye to be sure the wall was okay and he didn't have to speed around doing an impromptu tile job.  It was fine.  He still worried about it, but through all these years had always managed to not push or grip or scratch too hard and ruin something in here.

He closed his eyes again and let the after shudders run through his balls as they loosened up and pulled away from his body in deference to the heat of his shower.  Thankfully, his parents had gone to Metropolis for dinner and a show, and wouldn't be back until late, so he could stay in there as long as he wanted and not get any strange looks thrown his way when he was finished.  If his mom raised her eyebrow at him one more time regarding his ‘marathon showers,’ he thought every capillary in his face might burst with the blush of embarrassment.

He drew in one long breath and let it out slowly.  His cock was still working on deflating as he numbly squeezed some shower soap into his hand and scrubbed at his pubic hair and scrotum.

He'd watched the whole time while he came, knew that every drop had just splattered out into the tub and been washed away, but still couldn't stop himself from inspecting the shower curtain and walls like he always did.  Nothing there, of course.  He supposed if he really thought about it, he must have some kind of sex paranoia.  There was probably some technical name for it: ‘Ophthalnymphophobia’ or something ridiculous like that.

But he'd rather have a mild phobia than have to deal with the mortification of his parents having evidence for what he was doing in here.  Cum on the walls and scratches in the tile were just not going to happen if he could help it.

He rinsed the soap out of his pubic hair, and reached for the fixture to turn off the water.  Then he hesitated and pulled back.  This was usually the point where he got out, dried off, and went about his business, but...

Clark turned around and let the water cascade over his hair and down his back and over his face, enjoying the soothing wet warmth.  As long as his folks were out till late, he might as well enjoy himself as long as he could.  He felt like he'd gotten a little sweaty during his exertion, so he squeezed out some more soap and scrubbed under his arms and over his chest and belly again.

Turning to rinse, he let some water run into his mouth a few times and spat it out, then wiped his eyes.  He glanced at the tile wall again where his hand had been, making sure he hadn't just imagined it was okay.

It looked so perfectly normal to him that he actually took a step closer to it, walking through the spray and squinting.  He ran the tips of his fingers over it softly, leaned very closely and really stared.

Clark had a very specific way he masturbated in the shower.  It had always worked, and he figured if it wasn't broke, then don't fix it.  He would stand, legs apart, the outside of a foot against each side of the tub, lean his left hand against the same tile—always the same tile—let the water beat down on his head and trickle over his face, put his right hand on his dick and let himself go.

For years.  Years and years.  Same stance, same bathroom, same tile...  Same tile.

He practically had his nose against it now, looking closer than he'd ever looked before for scratches or impressions or any kind of damage. But there wasn't anything.

Jeez, that was strange.  The same tile on the same shower wall for all these years and there wasn't even one scratch.

All at once, Clark gasped, sucking some water into his windpipe, and stumbled backwards.  He slipped on a soapy spot, went flying, and landed right on his ass, still sputtering from the water in his throat.

Terrified he'd broken the tub when he landed, he jumped up to hands and knees to look, but it was okay.

He let out a relieved sigh and got to his feet again, feeling flushed and being really happy that no one was downstairs to come rushing up and ask what had happened.  He was such an idiot, getting so bent out of shape about—

Clark spun around and glared at the tile again.  No scratches.  No damage.  How many years?  Four, he thought.  Probably four years.  And not a single scratch!

He ran his fingers over it again, tried to keep his racing heart under control before he broke something in his excitement.  But, no, that was the point, wasn't it?  Four years and he'd never broken anything in his excitement!

Every embarrassing self-pleasuring scene he could remember flashed over his mind's eye: Burying his hand into the cushion of his loft's sofa; grasping at the edge of his hammock; digging into the mattress with tense fingers; balling his bed sheet up in his fist; biting his pillow to keep from screaming.  He'd never ripped anything, never broken anything.

He'd had his first self-induced orgasm four years ago and had been having them pretty darn regularly ever since, and not once had he damaged a single thing.

He stood under the water's spray for he knew not how long, gaping.  He forgot to breathe for a while but didn't notice.

He just felt so stupid.  How could he not have noticed in four years?  How could he not have realized that...

For god's sake.  If Clark, solo, not worried about fragile flesh in the slightest, could jerk off for four years and not damage a damn wall...

If he hadn't been afraid he'd break right through the ceiling, he probably would have jumped up into the air and yelled something infantile and ridiculous, like, ‘Whoo-hoo!’

Instead, he managed to keep himself in check.  He simply turned the water off, dried himself vigorously, got dressed in some night clothes, zoomed down the stairs, and inhaled a large piece of warm peach pie topped with vanilla ice cream.

That was the moment he realized that he liked to eat large amounts of his favourite foods when he was really happy.  And all that realization did was make him laugh until he nearly choked.


*


Lex was prodding at the den's fireplace with the poker when he heard the door open behind him.  "Hey, Clark," he said with a smile, not even turning around to be sure he was right.  Clark was always on time for their ‘dates.’  He'd glanced at his watch a moment ago, and it had been two minutes till six.

He rose to his feet, sliding the poker back into its assigned spot in the holder, and turned to ask Clark if he'd eaten.

"Have you h—mmpfh!"

Lex stumbled back, but was caught immediately in two strong arms wrapped tightly around his back.  He was still trying to talk past the foreign tongue in his mouth when one big, warm hand slid down to just above his ass and pushed his pelvis tight against Clark's own.

The rod of steel pressed into the crease of his groin startled the hell out of him, but it made him stop trying to speak.  He just moaned rather loudly, felt his knees get weak, and began to participate enthusiastically in an unexpected, very hot, very zealous kiss.

His arms shot up and over Clark's shoulders, one hand tangling in his hair, the other gripping the back of his neck and keeping their faces tight together.  He couldn't breathe, his mind was spinning in perplexity, he was developing an erection that could only be described as ‘confused,’ and he couldn't have cared less.  Clark's hand was on his ass.

Lex couldn't feel much of his own weight on his feet, and all of his clothes were suddenly heavy and stifling.  But he'd be damned if he was going to pull away to take anything off.  Clark would just have to rip it all off from the back.  Hell, if he hadn't had an ingrained sense of dignity, he would have jumped up and wrapped his legs around Clark's waist... or if he'd had a few drinks.

All at once, Clark broke their kiss with a loud sucking sound, and was grinning and blushing madly right in front of him.  Lex's eyes were glazed over and dilated—he could feel it—and he watched Clark with his already swollen mouth hanging open like a codfish.

"Wha—?"

Given his current state of affairs, it had been an incredibly sophisticated question.

"You talk too much," Clark said through his grin, and promptly stole Lex's breath away again.

The sound of that smug one-liner slipping through Clark's newly forceful lips helped Lex regain some of his equilibrium.  He put the shoe on the other foot, cramming his own tongue into Clark's mouth and attacking the dirtiest way he knew how.  And when Clark actually kept up with him rather than shying away, the groan that came out of Lex's throat was all at once embarrassing and hot as hell.

Halfway through his groan, Clark released his lips, and the end of it came out in an ‘mmm’ that turned into, "Mmm—Clark, god."

"Hi," Clark said, still grinning and bright-eyed.

"Hi, yourself."  What he wanted to ask was what the hell was going on, but he was too busy being stunned and wondering what was coming next.  The Rapture, perhaps?

Clark's eyes were sparkling, and he was looking Lex up and down as well as he could manage with the two of them so close together.  "Wanna go lay down on the couch?"

Lex's groin pulsed hard, and Clark's eyes flared when he felt it, and, if possible, that grin grew.  "I think I can handle that," Lex said, voice throaty and low.

He was expecting to be let go so he could walk to the sofa, or for Clark to start kissing him again and walk them to it blindly, but neither of these things happened.  Clark's eyes just went on sparkling mischievously and he kept looking Lex up and down.

With a start, Lex realized what he was thinking.  "Clark," he warned, though it came through half a laugh, "don't you dare pick me up."

Clark laughed.  "Why not?" he asked coyly.

"Because it would be awkward and strange and not nearly as hot as you think it would be," he said all this whilst almost laughing, Clark's huge smile easily infectious.

Clark quirked his eyebrows deviously, but Lex could see he was acquiescing to his desire to not be manhandled.  He took Lex's mouth again, just a little softer, but still full of passion, and began to walk backward—which just so happened to be the choice Lex preferred.

Lex kissed him with open eyes, steering him by the shoulders so he didn't run into anything.  When they'd circumnavigated the sofa and end table, and the back of Clark's legs touched the front of the couch, their kiss was broken.  Clark looked behind him, glanced at Lex with new—or continued—devilishness, and flung them both onto the sofa with himself on top, making Lex exclaim quietly, but indignantly.

Clark was laughing when he took Lex's mouth again, but Lex's mirth was gone in seconds at the feel of Clark's leg slipping between his thighs and pressing without hesitation against his already throbbing erection.  Lex took in a sharp breath through his nose and his hips pumped upwards on instinct.  The pressure was so good it almost hurt.

Clark's fingers were fumbling with the bottom of Lex's shirt, trying to yank it out of his pants, and making only minimal progress.  Lex pulled his mouth away and looked down to help.

"Get this off," Clark whispered needlessly, as they were both already working on it, Lex at the top buttons, and Clark at the bottom.

Clark let him sit up just enough to pull it off his arms, get it out from under his back, and yank his undershirt over his head.  Then he attacked Lex again with fervor, pressing him into the cushions and running his palm, flat and firm, up Lex's stomach and to his chest.

There was a little voice in Lex's head clearing its throat occasionally and suggesting he take a moment to ask what exactly was happening, but his libido was much, much louder and had begun to drown it out rather effectively.

Without much warning, the pads of Clark's fingers slid over Lex's right nipple like a shock from a twelve volt battery, and Lex ripped his mouth away to hiss loudly.

"Sensitive?" Clark asked.  He smiled, eyes wide and lucid and interested.

"Yeah," Lex ground out through his teeth, arching into the soft touch.  "Yes."

"I'm so sorry about earlier this week," Clark suddenly rushed, shaking his head.  "I'm sorry I was acting so weird.  Just forget about it, okay?  Just pretend it never happened."  With that, and without waiting for a response, he swiftly lowered his head to Lex's chest and sucked that aching nipple right into his mouth.

Lex arched like a bow, yelling "God!" into the air with abandon.  His fingers twisted into Clark's hair, both yanking at it and strongly encouraging Clark's mouth to stay right where it was.

His other hand wildly alternated between scratching at Clark's back and grasping uselessly at the air and the cushions, trying desperately to let out some of the tension, and failing.  Clark was flicking his tongue at Lex's incredibly sensitive nipple with the kind of speed that should really have been put to use on some lucky girl's clitoris, though Lex wasn't about to suggest it.

Clark sucked Lex's flesh farther into his mouth, Lex wondering if he was perhaps about to come just from that pulling sensation, and then suddenly Clark switched sides.  Lex had almost forgotten he had a left nipple, so the shock of wet heat landing on it and teeth nipping at it made him yell out again.

Just at about the point where the sensations were threatening to become muted, Clark stopped and flew back up to kiss Lex's mouth deeply.  Clark's legs were shifting around.  It seemed aimless at first until Lex realized that he was crawling in between Lex's thighs.  The moment he was there, he started to thrust—thrust much, much more firmly than he ever had, and Lex choked on their kiss.

Clark backed off, mouthed wetly at his chin and the side of his throat.  "Okay?" he asked breathlessly.  All Lex could do was nod, mute.  "Mm, you feel good," Clark mumbled, and refocussed his osculatory attack on a hypersensitive strip of flesh right behind Lex's left ear.

Fingers shaking and damp with sweat, Lex started pushing Clark's flannel off his shoulders without coordination.  Abruptly, Clark got up on his knees, shrugged it off, tossed it, pulled his tee shirt over his head, tossed that in the other direction, and covered Lex's body with his own again.

"Oh my god," Lex moaned at the ceiling.  Clark was rocking against his cock, biting his earlobe, and pinching at one of his nipples all at once.  This was a Clark infinitely hotter than the sizzling one he'd known all this time.  This was some kind of super-Clark, and whatever he'd had for breakfast this morning, Lex was going to buy out the company that made it and ensure he got a free lifetime supply of it.

Clark's mouth was on his again, tongue swirling in some perfectly slutty way that Lex was sure Clark hadn't known how to do.  Lex's underwear were damp with precum and sweat, and his cock ached for the loss of a few layers of fabric.  He twisted his body upward, seeking harder contact, but there just wasn't any.

Clark pulled away from his lips, trailing wet kisses over his cheek and ear, and finally settled down to suckle at a few isolated spots on the left side of his neck.  The thrusting kept up in a regular, firm rhythm, and after a minute or two, Lex was shocked to hear himself begin to whimper.

He put a stop to that, swallowing hard against a throat tight with desire.  But as soon as he opened his mouth, the whimpering defiantly began again.  He decided to allow it and just think up some less emasculating word later if he had to refer to it.

One of his legs slid up to hook over the back of Clark's thigh.  It squeezed down while his hips pumped feverishly up and side to side, struggling for every bit of friction he could get so long as Clark was offering it.

The burning on his neck let up with wet smack, and Lex opened his eyes to find Clark hovering in front of him, eyes searching his entire face over.

As soon as Lex had retrieved enough awareness to think about it, he realized that the look on his own face was one of exquisite pain, but couldn't smooth it no matter how he tried.

"What do you want, Lex?" Clark asked, panting and still pumping his hips.  "Tell me what you want."

A consonant jumped out of Lex's throat before he clamped his mouth shut to hold his thought in.  He swallowed, closed his eyes just to clear his vision, and opened them again.  Then he offered a quick small smile, trying not to look as desperate as he felt.

"What is it?"

"Whatever you're ready for, Clark," Lex said evenly.  He wasn't about to suggest any of the more intense things he was thinking and scare Clark away from the incredible things he was already doing.  It was enough.  It was more than enough.  "Whatever you want."

Clark's brow furrowed, but he didn't say anything.  He looked about Lex's body, looked down.  The fingers stroking Lex's nipple slid down to tug at the waist of his slacks.  "These?  Do you want these off?"

Lex's breath caught in his throat.

Clark smiled as if he tasted victory.  "Is that what you want?  You want me to take these off?"  Even while he was saying it, his fingers were feeling around the crease, brushing little shocks across the head of Lex's cock through the fabric as he tried to find the clasp.

Biting back a groan, Lex slid his hands off Clark's hot, damp body and shooed his fingers away.  He reached beneath the hem and quickly undid the hidden clasp and zipper.

"Oh, it's inside," Clark muttered to himself, watching with interest.

Lex's head shot up from the cushion and he took Clark's mouth, a silent command not to get distracted.  Clark's fingers were soon hooking into his slacks and trying to pull them down, and Lex arched off the sofa, squirming around as he tried to help get them off without breaking their kiss.

Suddenly, Clark pulled away from him, and Lex was reaching out, beginning to protest before he realized that Clark was sitting up to help him pull his pants off the rest of the way.

"Your shoes," he said, reaching for them, but Lex kicked them off before he'd gotten there and quickly sat up to tug his socks and slacks over his feet.  Then he grabbed Clark by the shoulders and started firmly leading him back down atop of him.

Halfway there, Clark pulled back again, leaving Lex's fingers to grasp at air.  He rolled partly onto his back—the best he could do in the scant space the sofa allotted—and started unclasping his jeans, kicking his shoes off much the way Lex had done, while Lex stared at him in complete fascination.  He sat up to run his palm over Clark's right thigh as it was exposed, but was quickly pushed onto his back again when Clark rolled on top of him as if it was the most natural thing in the world and he'd been doing it for years.

Their thrusting took back up as if it had never stopped, and Lex lost his breath when the dampness of Clark's shorts hit the mirror dampness of his own briefs, making their rubbing stick and sputter and stretch the fabric around.

He couldn't breathe with Clark kissing him so hard, smooshing his nose almost closed, but he didn't care.  Clark had never kissed him so hard in all the time they'd been together.  If he suffocated for it, it would be all right by him.

All at once, Clark released his mouth, pulling back just enough so Lex could focus on his face.  He was smiling and bright-eyed, and Lex tried to smile back, but only succeeded in panting open-mouthed.

Soft fingers trailed over his temple.  Clark's eyes darted there as if watching the contact, and then when his gaze met Lex's again, his smile faded just a little.  The trailing became a tickle.  Then the rubbing against Lex's crotch slowed slightly and something came into those eyes—something familiar and unwelcome—and Lex came very close to panicking against it.

He clutched frantically at Clark's shoulders.  "No, no, no," he rushed, and pumped up with his hips to get Clark to keep going.  "What do you need?  What—tell me.  Do you want—what?  What do you want?  Tell me," he begged.  He knew he sounded desperate, but he was willing to do just about anything to get Clark to not stop what he was doing.

Clark shook his head slightly, eyebrows arched as if he was surprised at the rushing questions.  "No, nothing, I..."

The thrusting stopped entirely.  A small noise of despair escaped Lex's throat.  Clark's fingers on his scalp were like breath.  "Clark...  What...?  Hey."  Lex had a sudden idea and gripped Clark's biceps a little tighter, making piercing eye contact.  "Do you want me to get on top?" he asked clearly.

Clark's face seemed to pause, though it hadn't been moving at the time, and then he broke into a grin and nodded.  "Yeah," he said breathily.  "Yeah, that'd be good."

Lex was about to agree and move to get into that position when Clark simply wrapped his arms under Lex's back and flipped them around with what seemed like little to no effort.  Lex was surprised that Clark would show such strength to him so blatantly, but didn't dwell on it.

In this new position, control of their thrusting was Lex's, and the speed he chose was faster than Clark's, with smaller strokes that caused a constant, burning slide along the underbelly of his erection.  Clark was almost grinning again, his eyes bright and interested, with fear nowhere to be found.  Lex almost wanted to smile at the sight of it, but he was too busy trying to catch his breath with open-mouthed panting.  Clark watched his face as if he was fascinated by it and excited to see what expression might come next.

He must have been very satisfied indeed to see shock settle there when his hand slid to Lex's hip, pinched a swath of the fabric of Lex's underwear in his fingers, and tugged down on it slightly.

Lex stopped moving all at once as if someone had pulled his emergency brake.  He knew his eyes were wide and he only became aware he wasn't breathing when he realized the room had gone silent.  Then he sucked in a loud breath.  "Oh, god.  Are you sure?"  He closed his eyes and swallowed, opened them again knowing they were heavily hooded with desire.  "Clark, tell me you're sure.  Please."

Clark didn't speak.  He just nodded and tugged softly again.

Unwilling to ask twice, Lex's hand flew to the other side, and they both tugged down.  He shifted onto his hip so he could get them all the way off, groaning quietly at the feel of cool air finally wafting over the overheated flesh of his genitals.  He was stopped by Clark's large hand on his stomach when Lex tried to roll back atop him.

Lex watched his face, afraid to move or speak and break this incredibly good, incredibly odd moment as Clark stared unabashedly down at Lex's jutting erection resting on Clark's thigh.  He held his breath as the large hand that wasn't keeping him still arced slowly across Clark's body, fingers outstretched, and, after what seemed to be an inordinate amount of time, the tips brushed softly across the head of his cock, forcing him to gasp.

He got the impression that Clark wasn't touching him to try to give him pleasure, but rather just discovering him: Clark seemed to be touching him just to see what touching him was like.

It didn't matter.  Clark's hand was on his cock.  Clark's hand had never, ever, ever been on Lex's cock.  And, quite frankly, Lex felt he was doing a very admirable job of not losing his mind.

Two fingers started at the very tip of him, and slid slowly down his entire shaft until they touched the very root, then pulled back.

"Wow," Clark whispered breathlessly.  "It looks really big."

Lex's eyes rolled back in his head, and he internally swatted at his ego to stop being such an asshole.  "It's just the angle," he said through an almost laugh.  "Hairlessness makes it look longer, too."

Clark met his eyes for the briefest of moments, then looked back down.  The warm, soft hand came back to gently cup his sac, hefting it as if weighing it in his hand.

Lex's legs parted further without any direction or discretion, and his eyes fell closed.  He could barely keep his head vertical, leaning there as he was on his elbow, and it swayed lightly on his neck.  When his eyelids fluttered open again, Clark was watching him and smiling slightly.  The very tips of his fingers were brushing across the very tip of Lex's erection, and he looked pleased just to see that Lex was enjoying the contact.

With a shuddering breath in meant to steady, Lex carefully slid his hand down, down, down along Clark's side.  Upon arrival, he hesitantly pinched at a swath of Clark's boxers, just as Clark had done to him.  He tugged very slightly.

Clark's fingers stopped moving over Lex's groin.  Their eye contact became unblinking.

"Yours?" Lex asked, voice deep in timbre but gentle in tone.

Clark kept his gaze for a long beat before his eyes shifted bashfully away.  He nodded.

But Clark didn't actually make a move to do anything about it, so Lex tugged again, a little harder this time.  Then Clark's hands came back to himself, thumbs hooking into the band of his shorts.  Like a button had been pressed, red streaked over his cheeks and raced halfway down his chest.  Then, all at once, he yanked the boxers off and kicked them away.

Lex's gaze dropped immediately, without couth, but Clark didn't seem to notice.  His attentions went right back to Lex's erection, staring at it and touching it softly, continuing to stroke with just the tips of his fingers as if to memorize the feel of the skin there.

Lex laid a trembling hand on Clark's chest.  Over the next minute and a half, he very slowly trailed it downwards over a complicated path.  Clark seemed to mostly ignore the movement until Lex reached his navel and dipped into it slightly with his middle finger.  Then Clark laughed softly and jerked slightly away.  Lex smiled at his ticklish response, and there found what seemed to be the perfect moment to wrap his hand, finally, around Clark's hard, leaking flesh.

It was superheated in his hand, and jumped as if startled the instant he touched it.  He saw Clark's stomach tighten and go still, and knew he was holding his breath.  Then the fingers touching so tentatively at Lex's erection stretched and wrapped around it in what seemed to be imitation of the way Lex was holding his.

When Lex began to stroke lightly, and a second later, Clark did the same in the same rhythm with him, Lex knew for certain that Clark was following his lead.  He tried to go slow, stroking not too hard and not too fast, and stopping sometimes to run his thumb over the silky smooth and damp glans stretching out past Clark's foreskin.  Clark did the same, though a little softer, a little lighter, so Lex stroked a bit faster, gripped him a bit harder, hoping for further imitation on Clark's part.

Instead, Clark's breathing became extremely erratic, along with the stimulation on Lex's straining cock.  His fingers began to shake, and he pulled away.

Lex slowed down.  "It's all right," he soothed breathlessly.  "Just go at your own pace."

With a small, somewhat grateful smile, Clark reached for him again, fingers still trembling, and touched Lex even lighter than before, his strokes skipping and unsteady.

Lex tried to pump Clark at Clark's pace, though his own strokes were slow and even and controlled.

Clark's hips shifted up, and he made a small sound in between his ragged, gasping breaths.  He pulled just slightly away, then started touching Lex again, then did the same twice more.  His brow tightened, his face turned red, his breathing picked up speed and volume.

As Clark lost the ability to concentrate on him, Lex increased his speed.  For now, he would ignore his own screaming desire to be stroked harder and faster, and focus on bringing Clark to the orgasm that seemed imminent on his pained, flushed face.

Unexpectedly, and with startling swift motions, Clark's fingers left Lex's erection, both hands were wrapped around Lex's waist, and Lex was lifted like a rag doll up and over Clark's body, pressed snugly against the back of the sofa, and abandoned.  "Oh, god, I can't do this," Clark said brokenly.  He began to scramble off the couch.

Stunned, Lex's hand stumbled clumsily over Clark's arm and clamped down on his shoulder only just in time.  Clark already had one foot on the floor.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!  Hey!  Hey, it's okay."  He sat up in a daze, shuffling a little closer, and kept up a constant tugging pressure on Clark's shoulder.  It didn't move him back, only kept him from moving any farther away.  "Clark.  Come on, don't—  It's too much?  It's okay.  We'll stop.  Come on.  Come here."

Clark stayed where he was, facing away, every muscle in his body tensed.  "I'm so sorry, Lex," he said, his voice cracking.

"It's all right," Lex said as softly as he could.  "Don't be sorry.  Just don't get up.  We're not going to do anything until you're ready for it.  Okay?  Come back here.  Please."

Clark began to move, and Lex thought he might be about to comply, but then he just bowed his head.  Lex watched him silently, waited for him to speak.  He began to feel the sofa vibrating gently a few seconds before he realized Clark's shoulders were shaking.

Lex's jaw went slack.  "Clark?"  He sat up a little farther, trying to see around Clark's broad back and shoulder, but not able to.  "Clark, what...?  Are you crying?" he asked carefully.

Clark sniffled, sounding stuffed up.  "No."

Lex's breath came out in a sigh that sounded like ‘oh.’  "Yes, you are," he whispered.  He tugged gently at Clark's biceps.  "Come here."  Clark tried weakly to pull his arm away.  Lex's grip tightened.  "Clark," he said seriously.  "Come here."

Clark sighed and sniffed again, and Lex saw him lift his hand to wipe at his face.  When he finally turned, Lex's heart both started beating again and squeezed tight in sympathy.  Clark's eyes were rimmed in angry red, his cheeks were wet, he looked miserable and apologetic at the same time.

"I'm so sorry, Lex," he said again, voice thick and wretched.

"Stop it," Lex whispered.  "You've nothing to be sorry for."  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to ignore the oncoming ache in his balls.  "So you had a rush of reckless courage," he said with a flippant shrug, "and then it faded.  That's okay.  You don't have to force it.  You don't have to do anything until you're ready."

Clark's eyes slammed closed and he ran a trembling hand under each still watering eye.  "Oh, Lex," he sighed.  He opened his eyes and met Lex's gaze sadly.  "What if I'm never ready?"

Lex offered a lopsided smile.  ‘Never’ was a very long time and, he felt, hardly applicable.  "Then I guess I'll just have to take a lot of cold showers."

Clark paused, his eyes widening as if surprised, then he suddenly let out a breathy laugh and nodded.  "Yeah," he said, and sniffed.  "Me, too."

He looked away again, staring at the ceiling with his sad, bloodshot eyes, and began to seem distant.  Lex's hand slid over his on Clark's chest, and Clark gripped at it in what felt like an automatic reflex.

Lex watched him, and thought.  He considered everything he'd seen, everything Clark had said and hadn't said.  He thought about the things that had come before, and what had happened just now.  Mostly, he concentrated on Clark's pattern of reactions to him and the things they tried to do.  And when he was absolutely positive, he took a breath and came out with it.

"You're afraid to touch me, aren't you?"

Clark's gaze snapped back to him.

"You're okay with me touching you, but you're afraid to touch me."  Clark just stared at him wide-eyed and mute, and Lex knew he had it.  He smiled.  "We can work with that, you know," he said gently.

Clark's eyebrows shot up.  "W... We can?"

"Oh, yeah," Lex said, nodding slowly.  "We can definitely work with that... if you want to."

A very short pause, and then Clark shook his head in the affirmative quite seriously.  Lex smiled and tugged at his hand.  "Come here," he said, and encouraged Clark to imitate Lex just one more time and lie on his side.

As Clark turned, his still mostly erect penis jutted out and brushed against Lex's own, making them both gasp.  Lex chuckled a little at the unexpected bonus.  "Location, location, location," he droned, and Clark laughed with him, the redness in his eyes starting to clear.

As their smiles faded, Lex concentrated on maintaining confident eye contact while his hand crept slowly south until he could wrap the both of them together in his fist.  Clark gasped softly.  Lex began to stroke.  "How's that, Clark?" he asked, his tone low.

Clark moaned—a small, quiet sound.  One of his arms struggled to get behind Lex's back and Lex lifted up just enough to let it.  Then the other was laid uncertainly on his thigh.  Clark's body was positively thrumming with a mixture of pent-up sexual tension and built up fears, and Lex ached to soothe both.

"Nothing bad's gonna happen," Lex murmured, and moved closer to Clark's face, keeping the strokes smooth and rhythmic.  Clark's expression seemed to be reaching for him, or for the promise he made.  "Nothing bad," he said more clearly, "is going to happen."

A high-pitched sound got caught in Clark's throat and the hand on Lex's thigh slid up, and went, shaking, around to the small of his back.

"Nothin’ bad's gonna happen," he murmured just once more before finally closing the scant distance between them and kissing Clark's trembling lips.

Their kiss was soft, but Clark's breathing was ragged and Lex's stroking was steady.  When he released Clark's mouth a minute later to let him catch his breath, Clark was sweating and visibly shaking in place.  He looked as if he was in pain, and reaching.  His fingers tightened and loosened over and over at Lex's back, almost kneading it.

His cock had grown burning hot and damp in Lex's hand, and even the foreskin felt bloated with blood.  Lex let the both of them go and pushed firmly against Clark's chest to get him to lean back slightly.

Clark's eyes slid open, blurry and dazed, and he muttered something akin to ‘huh?’ before Lex was able to get his fist back around his straining erection and start pumping him hard and fast.  Then Clark arched, his breath went from ragged to choked, and all that remained visible of his eyes were two strips of white as they rolled back into his head.

Lex's sweaty hand moved fast enough to make a sticky wet sound that rose between them.  Clark's body began to have spasms, making him jerk his head from the sofa once, twice, three times.  He finally clutched Lex tight to him with one arm, grabbed the top of the sofa with the other hand, his face went over Lex's shoulder, his legs curled up between and over Lex's thighs, and he yelled wordlessly as Lex felt warm wetness splash against the crease of his leg.

Clark stayed curled like a child there around him, body making tight little jerking motions for half a minute before he went limp and collapsed back onto the cushions.  He panted and swallowed loudly toward the ceiling, and looked like he was trying to struggle his eyes open.

Clark's leg was still hooked over Lex's thigh, so Lex couldn't get to himself, and he couldn't stop his hips from pumping forward, trying desperately to get friction where he needed it.  The choked sounds Clark made when he came had caused Lex to swell to almost painful proportions.  When Clark finally opened his eyes and looked into Lex's face, Lex knew his discomfort must be visible.  He hurriedly struggled his way out of Clark's legs.

Clark looked down and put a hand on Lex's hip, tilting him slightly away as if to expose him more fully.

Lex was straining for release, desperate to take the action that would bring it forth, but felt frozen in place with Clark staring at him so directly.  "It's all right, Clark," he panted.  "I can take care of it."

Clark met his eyes.  He shook his head, eyes wide.  "No," he whispered, drawing the word out.  A soft, seeking hand slid down Lex's hips toward his groin, and he arched in both anticipation and frustration.  Clark's light, hesitant touches were always maddening, and not what he needed.  He needed pressure and heat and speed and he needed it all right now.

Still, he yelled when Clark's fingers closed around him.  "Please," he moaned brokenly, unable just then to feel ashamed of his begging.  "Please, Clark."

To his astoundment, Clark began to stroke him with considerable speed.

"Harder," he begged, jerking his hips up in time.  With an instantaneousness that made his chest constrict, Clark's fist tightened on him.  "Oh, god!"

Lex's face shot forward to push into Clark's damp neck and he breathed in deeply to own the sweet smell of Clark's sweaty skin.  The tang of Clark's semen and his own pungent arousal braided together and wafted up to intoxicate him.  The oxygen level of his blood shot through the roof from his deep breathing, so when orgasm hit, it was incredibly intense.

"Oh, g—Clark!" he screamed, and his voice vibrated from the rafters.

Clark made a small high-pitched sound near his ear, almost in answer, as five months of sexual frustration shot violently forth to coat Clark's belly.

Lex yelled more than once as the pulses ripped through him, each subsequent shout a little less than the one before it, until he finally ended the song with a long, drawn out groan, and collapsed, boneless, onto his side.  He lay there for a short eternity, waiting in limbo for the return of normalized breathing and the energy to open his eyes.

Then, when he finally did, he was greeted with the sight of Clark hovering over him, red and sweaty, with damp, mussed hair, and still staring pointedly down Lex's body.  Still panting, Lex managed half a grin and tried to say Clark's name.

Clark glanced up at him, blushing, at the almost-sound of his name, then looked right back down again.  "We're staining your sofa," he said under his breath.

Lex paused and blinked, then broke into breathy laughter.  He could feel something oozing down his thigh and onto the cushion, and figured Clark's skin must be experiencing the same sensation.

"It's all right, Clark," Lex murmured.  "It's hardly the first time."

"...Oh."

Lex's attention snapped back to Clark's face at the dejected sound of the word, and he quickly realized what it had just sounded like he'd said.  "No, I mean—"  He broke off and slid a palm down his face, mopping sweat off.  "I mean it's hardly the first time this sofa has ended up stained with my semen because of you."

Clark looked up at that, brow creasing in confusion.  "Huh?"

Grinning, Lex struggled his way up on an elbow and realized he felt too giddy from orgasm to be even mildly embarrassed.  "Nearly every time you walk out of here at night, this sadly abused piece of furniture ends up stained.  I was thinking of having it sealed in plastic to protect the piteous thing."

After a beat of disbelief, Clark's eyes lit up in delight.  A second after that, his cheeks went dark red, and he hid his face tightly in Lex's neck with an embarrassed snort of laughter.

Lex wrapped an arm over Clark's shoulder and chuckled with him.  "What?" he asked, grinning and shameless.  "You don't masturbate?"

Clark snickered against his skin.  "I don't talk about it," was muttered and muffled there.

"Hm," Lex droned noncommittally.  His smile stayed on his face until Clark's laughter had completely subsided.  A sigh wafted across his neck and Clark's body snuggled closer.  Lex felt stickiness transfer back and forth between them and enjoyed Clark not acting grossed out about it.

He laid a kiss behind Clark's ear.  "I like to think about you... when I jerk off," he whispered lowly, and watched goose flesh spread along Clark's neck.  "Don't you think that's hot?"

The skin under his lips twitched, and he heard Clark swallow.  Then he felt him nod there in the crook of Lex's shoulder.

Lex smiled and lightly tongued the reddened shell of Clark's ear.

"I... I think about you, too," Clark whispered—quietly, as if afraid Lex would hear him.

Lex smirked.  "I was hoping you did."

A small, quiet laugh from Clark, and then they both fell silent.  Clark held him a little closer, snuggling into him, and pressing him comfortably between Clark's damp body and the back of the couch.

Lex's mind felt very light, his eyes very heavy, and he let himself drift.  For a while, he felt soothed by the audible breathing against his neck.  But at length, he began to notice that it was very controlled.  Every breath in seemed to be taken for the express purpose of pushing it back out through pursed lips in a steadying way.

His eyes popped open when he realized it was the sound of someone controlling themselves to not cry.

"Hey," he said softly, and pressed his lips against Clark's neck.  "Clark, are you all right?"

A quiet sniffle, then, "Yeah.  I'm okay."

Lex didn't feel any wetness on his neck, but with the intensity and changeability of Clark's moods, he was inclined to be cautious.  "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Lex tried to shrug him out of his shoulder.  "Will you let me see you?"

He didn't miss the hand leaving his back and, he assumed, going to wipe at Clark's face, before Clark pulled back and offered him a weak and watery smile.  "I'm all right."

Lex swallowed nervously, the back of his tongue feeling parched.  "Are you upset about what—?"

"No," Clark broke in, shaking his head.  "No, I..."  He laughed quietly.  "I just can't believe it finally happened.  It feels..." he shrugged.  "I feel different."

Feeling relief rush through him, but not wanting to show it too obviously, Lex blinked lazily and let his lips curl up into a soft smile.  "Guess this means you're not a virgin anymore," he said rakishly, then paused.  "Or are you?"

Clark looked perplexed.

"Well..." he shrugged, "we all draw our own lines, Clark."

"Oh, right," Clark laughed a little, wiped his face again.  "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that that qualifies as some kind of sex.  Uh, in most societies, anyway."

"Hm."  Lex watched him silently for a while as Clark moved a little farther onto his back and blinked at the ceiling, looking peaceful.  "So what does that feel like?"

"What?"

"Not being a virgin anymore."

"Oh... I don't know."  Clark creased his brow in a considering way toward the ceiling.  "Kind of light...  Ticklish."

"...Ticklish?"

Clark chuckled and finally met his eyes.  "Yeah.  It just keeps making me want to laugh."

Lex laughed aloud while he ran a hand over his face and rolled as far onto his back as he could in the scant amount of space available to him on the sofa.  "Ticklish," he mumbled again as he rubbed at his eyes.  That definitely had to have been a new one.

When Lex glanced back over, he found that Clark was still watching him with bright eyes and a brighter smile.  The left corner of Lex's mouth climbed.  "What?"

Clark took a breath, then stilted whatever he'd been about to say and turned more fully on his side.  Lex joined him and Clark's arms were sliding around him again.  "I really—I mean... I—I just..."  Clark trailed off.  He looked happy and afterglowish as his eyes searched Lex's face.

Lex shook his shoulder slightly in a playful sort of way.  "What is it, Clark?" he asked, half grinning.

"I just—I want you to know that..."  He stared for a beat into Lex's eyes, and broke in to a full fledged grin.  "Lex, I—"

A rapid knocking at the door cut him off.

Lex slowly turned his head toward the sound, feeling and—he was sure—looking completely incredulous.  "Go.  Away," he said harshly.  The timbre of his voice spoke very clearly of the displeasure he felt at the interruption, and what kind of retribution the person on the other side of that door could be expecting later.

"Mr. Luthor, sir, I'm very sorry to disturb you," a nervous, quick female voice called.

Lex opened his mouth to deliver a cutting remark, but the voice rushed on.

"But your father, sir, he's on his way up the drive.  He wouldn't be stopped at the gate, sir—we thought you'd want to know."

Lex was already scrambling to his feet.  "Yes!  Thank you!"

Clark nearly fell off the sofa in his struggle to get vertical.

They stumbled and panicked over the pile of clothes on the floor, juggling underwear and socks, passing one article of clothing back and forth three times before they were sure whose it was.  "Jesus, take this!" Lex exclaimed, tossing Clark's undershirt at him.

"It's yours!" Clark tossed it back, then grabbed his one visible boot off the floor and began to spin in a circle looking for the other one.

About to argue, Lex decided he didn't care, got the thing right side out and yanked it viciously over his head.  Still shoving his right arm through it, he nearly fell over pulling his briefs on—inside out or not, he really didn't care.

He adjusted himself inside of them with one hand while he tore several tissues out of the end table dispenser and swiped hurriedly at the cooling stain on the sofa.  The undershirt was sticking to him, making his skin feel disgusting.  He shoved the hem of it into his pants as he struggled into them.

Clark was zipping up his jeans, and threw Lex's button-down shirt at him.  It hooked over Lex's right shoulder and hung there precariously while he shoved his feet into his socks.

"Where's my other boot?" Clark asked in a panic.  "Do you see it?"

Lex spun and dove for the other end of the sofa, where it lay wedged under the corner, next to one of his own loafers.  He tossed it sloppily and it sped by Clark's hand and slammed into the coffee table.  Clark hurried after it.

Lex was still trying to close the clasp on his pants while he grabbed a notebook and pen out of a drawer and pushed them into Clark's hands.  The pen dropped and rolled by the sofa but not, thankfully, under it.

Clark looked at him like he was nuts.  "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?"

Lex hopped across the room, struggling into his last shoe, toward the nearest bookcase.  He grabbed blindly at a volume.  "Taking notes on—" he turned the book to see the spine, realized it was upside down, turned it the other way, realized it had been right the first time, turned it back, and finally focussed on it.  "The State and Society of the Hittites—get that pen!"

He threw the volume carelessly onto the sofa, and shoved the tails of his shirt into his pants.  When Clark leaned down to grab the pen, Lex was able to see over him and to the rug in front of the fireplace, where his jacket had been the first thing to drop to the floor, and was lying there in an undignified pile.

"Your jacket!"  He pointed it out while he grabbed more tissues to scrub at the wet spot on the middle cushion of the sofa.  "Fuck—this is not drying!"

Clark came catapulting over the top of the couch, jacket in hand.  He landed on the far cushion, grabbed the one Lex was working at, and turned it over.  After a beat of incomprehension, Lex helped him push the thing snugly into place, trying not to feel like too much of a simpleton for not having thought of that to begin with.

"Your buttons are crooked," Clark said, reaching for them.

"Christ, your hair's a mess," Lex reached for it.

He sat on the newly turned cushion and the two of them fixed one another's obvious problems.  Clark squinted at Lex's buttons while Lex scraped at his hair madly with blunt fingernails, trying to get it back to Clark's original ‘I brushed it for half an hour to get it to look like I didn't brush it’ style.  Then he scrubbed at Clark's temples and forehead with the backs of his hands, swiping dampness away.

When he looked mostly normal, only red and panicked, Lex glanced down at himself to see Clark fixing his last button.  When it was through its slit and Clark ran his palms down both sides of the shirt, smoothing it, Lex took Clark's face in his hands and forced him to meet his eyes.

He began to take deep, controlled breaths, encouraging Clark to do the same.  Clark mimicked him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, and they both tried to compose themselves.  Clark took a deep, deep breath in through his nose, but when Lex began to let out his, Clark just held it.

"Lex?"

Lex finished letting his breath out.  "What?"  He still sounded a little panicked to his own ears.

Clark's brow tightened, making him look apologetic.  Then all at once, he just came out with it.  "It really smells like jizz in here."

Lex's breath caught in his throat for a second.  Then he forced himself to breathe in.

There was a still, full beat as Lex felt his eyes widen.

"...Oh, god."  He jumped up from the sofa, Clark right behind him, and the two of them started to open every door and drawer they could find, looking for something—anything—that would help.

In the very back of a small cupboard Lex never used, he found a spray bottle of something with flowers on it.

Not even stopping to read it, he hurried back to the sofa and sprayed the noxious stuff in the air just above it.

Clark ran up behind him, and they both began to wave their arms frantically, trying to get the stuff to mix in.

Clark made a face and groaned quietly.  "Jeez, now it smells like someone sent flowers to a sperm bank!"

Lex snorted loudly, trying not to laugh, and dropped the can.  It rolled under the sofa.  "Christ, Clark!" he exclaimed under his breath.  He could swear he felt his father's presence getting closer.

"Well, it does!"

Lex grabbed Clark's jacket out of the corner of the couch and began shaking it at the air while Clark continued to wave madly.


*


The next staff person he passed looked even more anxious than the last, eyes darting toward the entrance he must have known was about to be breached without impunity.  Lionel's pace picked up.

He came just short of jogging toward the doors, eager to learn what he would find on the other side.  He threw them inward—

—and was greeted with an empty room.

Lionel's gaze shot back to the servant he'd just passed, but the man had already made a hasty exit.  He looked the other way.  "You there!"  There was a woman at the very end of the hall, and he stalked toward her with purpose.  "Tell me where my son is," he demanded.

Her eyes were the size of peach stones in her face.  She swallowed and her voice came out shakily.  "Mr. Luthor is in the den, sir."

In mid-stride, Lionel spun on his heel and headed back the other way to catch the connecting hall he'd already passed.

He'd always made Lex's Smallville-based staff a tad uneasy—prided himself on it, in fact—but to-day's malcontent was a bit more pronounced than even he was used to being greeted with.  He was left with the distinct impression that his arrival had come at a particularly inauspicious moment for his son, and was very enthusiastic to learn what knowledge such impeccable timing was going to bring him.

He'd been hearing rumors lately about two distinctly different plans his son was considering putting into action regarding the aptly named LexCorp, and was optimistic about uncovering some related details with this impromptu visit.  How delightful it would be to walk in unexpectedly on a casual meeting Lex had called, and have his answers given to him simply by cataloguing the known faces in the room.

Smirk already in place, Lionel flung the correct door open.

"—with the Phrygians from Macedonia and Thrace into Asia Minor about the time of the Trojan War.  The Kaska probably made common cause with them."  Lex said this last as both he and the Kent boy turned toward Lionel's entrance.

Lionel glanced around the room quickly in mild consternation that he felt, but didn't show.

"Hey, Dad."  Lex's brow creased slightly.  "Wasn't expecting you," he said conversationally.

Lionel watched his son curiously out of the corner of his eye.  "Lex," he said, drawing the name out.  Then his gaze shifted to the dark-haired teen.  "Hello, Clark," he greeted amiably.

Clark nodded once and pressed his plump lips together in lieu of a smile.  "Mr. Luthor."

"How's your lovely mother?"

Those same too-big lips pursed up like the boy had just been fed a spoonful of alum.  His almond-shaped eyes narrowed and burned.  Lionel's smirk reasserted itself.  He began to slide through the room.

"She's great," the boy said, scowling.  "In fact, she and my father," he paused after this word as if to assure himself Lionel knew who his father was.  Lionel nodded slightly to encourage him to continue as he stalked around the sofa.  "...are out having a romantic dinner together."  He said this last bit with a touch of defiant pride, as if he was happy to have this information to fling.

It sounded to Lionel as if it wasn't the type of information he would have normally had at his disposal, and as if it might not have even been true.  "Ah, that must be a nice change for Martha," he said casually, and lowered himself into a chair.  The boy's eyes looked ready to light him aflame.  Lionel's smile grew.  "Small town romance," he said, and shifted his eyes to his son, who was looking eminently uncomfortable at his friend's distaste for his father.  "How quaint."

Martha's boy took a sharp breath in, surely about to spout something petulant, before Lex broke in, sounding just a touch harried.  "Clark, this report isn't due until the end of the week, right?"

Clark seemed to be physically dislodged from the verbal attack he was constructing and turned toward Lex, questioning.  "Huh?  Oh."  He glanced down at the notes scribbled with atrocious handwriting in the notebook on his lap.  "No.  Um... F-Friday?"

Lex nodded as if Clark had given the right answer, which seemed like a slightly out of place reaction to have.  "Good.  Perhaps we can continue this to-morrow, then.  If that's all right with you."

"To-morrow—yeah, sure."  He looked about to hand both the notebook and the pen to Lex, then pulled the notebook back and offered just the pen.

Lex waved him off and offered him the book in his own lap.  "You can look through that on your own.  Let me know later if you have questions."

The boy reached out and took the volume, then got to his feet.  "Okay.  Thanks—um, for your help.  And everything."

Lex smiled unblinkingly up at him.  "Good night, Clark."

"Night, Lex."  He glanced at Lionel as if considering not saying a word.  Then, "Mr. Luthor," he acknowledged as he turned to leave the room.

"Say hello to your mother for me, Clark," Lionel called after him.

The boy froze in his tracks, head tilting, then continued on with a more determined stride.  But when he closed the door behind him, it was soft and controlled.

Lionel's eyes shifted back to his son, who watched the door until it closed, then leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped before him, and smiled.

Silence pervaded as Lionel searched his son's eyes for secrets.

After nearly a minute had gone by and no one had moved, Lex made a show of looking over his left shoulder as if trying to find what his father was staring at.  He turned back, eyebrows arched.  "Dad?  I certainly hope you have something you wanted to say to me.  Clark could really use my help with that report.  I'd hate to learn I sent him home early for no reason."

"Since when are you tutoring the Kent boy?" Lionel asked with distaste, not because he actually found it distasteful, but because he was curious of the tone of the response to such a question.  He tapped at his lips with one finger in a considering way, and waited.

Lex's smile became slightly sardonic.  "It's called ‘a friendship,’ Dad.  I realize you'd have to capture it, dissect it, and study it in a lab for a few years before you could come close to understanding its concept.  But for now, just take my word for it: That's the way it works."

Lionel laughed softly, torso moving back into his chair with the outlet of breath.  "I've had occasion to think that you would do well to have your superciliousness patented.  Have I ever told you that?  Bottle that, Lex, and line your pockets with the wages of the meek and uninspired."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Lex quipped, and rose from his seat.  He crossed the room to a small table topped with cobalt bottles of Welsh spring water, opened one, and sipped from it calmly.

Lionel observed his movements.  He found them slightly artificial.  "Your staff seems to be of the persuasion that my arrival this evening is going to prove a burden to you."

Lex grinned over his shoulder.  "Can you blame them?"

Lionel leaned an elbow on the arm of his chair and rested his chin in his hand.  "More of a burden than usual," he said with a touch of humour.

Lex chuckled and rolled a shoulder.  He took another sip of his water.

The silence stretched.  The sickeningly sweet smell of flora pervading the air began to annoy Lionel's nose.  He looked about for the source of the allergen and found several bouquets in vases scattered across the room.  He wasn't sure which was so strong, as it seemed to come from all around him.

He adjusted in his seat and said nothing of it.  "This, uh, friendship with the Kent boy," he continued, discarding the distraction, "what's your angle, Lex?"

His son still did not look at him.  "Angle?" he threw back over his shoulder.

Lionel hummed quietly, considering the significance of Lex's playing dumb.  "Mm, yes.  What do you hope to gain, son?"

Lex finally turned around, grinning and shaking his head.  He shrugged fluidly.  "Nothing to gain, Dad."

"Oh, there's always something to gain, Lex.  Haven't I taught you anything?"  He paused, then hazarded a guess.  "A coterie of Kents to flaunt at your most vociferous critics, perhaps?"

Lex's smile hardened on his face, then faded away into moderate annoyance.  "Dad, did you have something you wanted to talk to me about?  Or did you honestly drive all this way to discuss my casual big-brothering to the boy who delivers the vegetables?"

Lionel sat back and placed his hands on the arms of his chair.  He sighed heavily out his nose, irritated that Lex had stopped playing first.  He allowed a long, tense beat to go by as the mood of the room settled.  Only when he felt the silence was appropriately expectant did he speak.  "We have business, Lex."


*


Clark collapsed into his hammock, hugging The State and Society of the Hittites and the notebook to his chest.

"Wow," he said to the ceiling, sounding breathless to his own ears.  "Just... freaking... wow."

He placed the books carefully onto the floor and slid his empty hand up under his shirt.  Evidence proving he hadn't imagined the whole thing was dry and cracked under his fingertips.  He traced over it as carefully as a blind man might have felt his first line of braille.  There was rather a lot of it to investigate.  "Wow," he whispered again.

That wasn't Clark's essence on his body.  No, the evidence of his own release was sticky and drying on the inside of Lex's thigh in his pants while he sat calmly and talked to his dad about business ventures.

A thrill went through him and made him shiver at the very thought of it.  He wanted to laugh at how clueless Mr. Luthor was—felt a kind of victory over him for it.  God, the guy was such a jerk.

Clark couldn't feel too much antagonism toward him for this particular moment, though.  At first he'd thought the guy had the worst timing in the history of the world, but really, he kind of owed Lionel a bit of thanks.  After he'd had just a few minutes to think about it, he realized he probably would have been kicking himself later if he'd told Lex just then.

Not that it wasn't true, but after what they'd just done, and with it being his first time and all, it would have been pretty easy for Lex to misconstrue such a declaration as mere pillow talk or an afterglow-induced, insincere sweet nothing.  That would have been the worst thing: For Lex to smile at him patronizingly and not even respond because he thought Clark was just being a hormonal teenager.

All that in mind, he figured he owed Mr. Luthor one... though he'd probably paid part of it back by not really laying into the guy about his twisted interest in Clark's mom.

He shuddered just thinking about it.

Gross.

Putting it out of his mind, Clark lifted his shirt away from his body and looked down at himself.  The stuff was hard to see in the soft light of his loft, and underneath the shadow from his shirt.  But when he pushed his face into the neck hole and breathed in deep, he could smell it real good.

Lex's cum smelled kind of like his sweat, but stronger: Thick and heady, with spice underneath musk.  It was a very strong, manly smell, and made Clark think vaguely of the boys’ locker room at school.

He pushed the neck and waist of his shirt tight against his skin, hoping to hold that scent to him for as long as possible.  He lasted about ten seconds before he lifted it again to breathe the odour back in.

Oh, god, it really was heady.  And that spice—it reminded him of something.  What was it?  It was almost... cinnamony.

He breathed deeper.

No, not cinnamon.  Ginger.  That's what it smelt most like.  Lex smelt like fresh grated ginger and thick musk.

Clark allowed himself one more deep, lingering breath before clamping his shirt to himself again.  Just sniffing it had made him grow half hard again in his jeans, and he reached down to shift himself to a more comfortable place, then left it alone.

After he lay there for a while, grinning stupidly at the ceiling and heroically resisting burrowing under his shirt again, he realized he needed to school it a little and get into the house to see his folks.  It wasn't anywhere near curfew yet, but it probably wasn't good to let them think he was staying at Lex's until curfew when he wasn't.  Better to let them see he'd left early.  He used to be home from nights at Lex's earlier more often, he was pretty sure.  It was important to keep up appearances.

His parents, after all, had been the very ones to teach him that.


*


"Hey, there he is."

"Clark, honey, we were just talking about you.  Have you eaten?"

Clark shrugged a shoulder noncommittally.

"Leftovers in the fridge if you want them."

"Why were you guys talking about me?" he asked as he crossed to the refrigerator in what he hoped was an only moderately interested fashion.  He was famished.

When he glanced behind him at the silence, both his parents were smirking in his direction.  "We're your parents, Clark," his dad said wryly.  "That's what we do."

"Oh."  Clark patted his tucked-in shirt down self-consciously, hoping they wouldn't notice it was defying gravity and sticking to him as he was bent half over, looking through the leftovers.

When he turned around with two bowls in hand, his folks were watching him carefully.  He felt his face heat.  "What?"

They looked at one another, then back at him.  He got the impression they were talking about him in thought waves.

"You feeling all right, son?"

Clark shrugged and offered a slightly puzzled look.  "Yeah," he said through a chuckle.  "I'm fine.  ...Why?"

They meaningfully glanced at one another again, and Clark felt his weight shift to the other foot in irritation at their scrutiny of him and their silent communication.

His mom offered him an almost apologetic smile.  "Oh, nothing.  You just seem... different."  She nodded through the last word, as if she was saying it was okay that he was.

He shrugged again and went about making himself a plate.  "Yeah, that might be that whole from-another-planet thing shining through."

They both looked at him wryly as if on cue.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and put the bowls away.

"Clark, are you—"

"I'm fine.  Just hungry."  He placed his plate in the microwave, taking his time covering it up just right and setting it to heat, in order to keep his back to his folks.  While he watched the turntable go slowly around, he worked on controlling his breathing, and making his expression as casual as possible.

When he turned back and smiled, then moved easily to join them at the kitchen table, he saw them offer one another that ‘What are you gonna do?  He's a teenager’ look, and immediately become more easy going and acceptant.

"Homework done?"

Clark nodded at his dad.  "Did it earlier."

"Chores?"

"Finished ’em."

"Isn't that the truth," his mom put in.  "In about five minutes, too.  Where have you been all this time?"  She glanced up at the clock.  "You were in such a rush to get out of here when you got home from school."

Clark shrugged and continued to look neutral.  "Just over at Lex's."

His dad sighed, but said nothing.

"He was teaching me about the Hittites.  Let me borrow a book."

"The Hittites?" Jonathan repeated skeptically.

"Yeah," he shrugged again.  "They're pretty interesting."

Martha looked askance at her husband.  "Sometimes I feel like we should be paying Lex tutoring fees."

Clark scoffed and got up to get his plate when the microwave beeped.  "Are you kidding?  He could go on for hours.  I'm the one doing him a favour, listening to it."  It was becoming easier and easier to lie casually about it simply by using as many bits of truth as he could.  He was even beginning to be able to fool himself that he wasn't lying to his parents at all.  Just withholding a few details.

"Not to be a stick in the mud, but is there any way this family could have a conversation for ten minutes without it including the name ‘Lex Luthor’?" Jonathan grumbled, and went to the countertop with his coffee cup.

Back turned to his family as he rinsed the cup out, he never saw his son roll his eyes melodramatically.

"What did Lex do now, Dad?" he asked, as if speaking to a petulant child.

"It's not about what he did now, Clark."  Jonathan turned and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.  "It's about what he's going to do.  You've heard the rumors about expansion, even if Lex doesn't consider you a close enough friend to give you the details."

Clark winced, rejoining his mother at the table with his warm plate of dinner.  "Oh, yeah, Dad," he said.  "It's Lex hiding things from me that limits our friendship."

Martha looked back at her husband.  He glanced down at her, then met his son's eyes and spoke softly.  "That's different, son."

"Maybe," Clark muttered, and watched his fork move the food around on his plate.  "We don't even talk about stuff like that, anyway," he said, looking up at his father again.  "Lex works all day.  The last thing he wants to do is go into detail about it when he's hanging out with his friends at night.  Besides, what's so bad about LexCorp expanding?  You're always saying this town could use an influx of new jobs.  Lex could provide them."

"This town does not need the Luthors to provide for it."

"Lex already employs half this town, Dad!"  Clark realized he was starting to shout, and curbed himself.  "If you ask me, he's providing for Smallville pretty darn well.  If he can do even more for it, why shouldn't he?  Why is that such a horrible thing?"

"Clark, maybe when you're older, you'll understand my hesitance about the Luthor family.  But for now, I think it's best if you just take my word for it: The Luthors all but owning this town will bring it nothing but ruin."

"‘The Luthors’ have nothing to do with LexCorp.  LexCorp is Lex's.  He's fighting his father.  He's trying to do the right thing!  Why don't you just give him the benefit of the doubt?"

"Are we talking about the same Lex Luthor?  The one who had you investigated for the better part of a year?"

"Which he apologized for!  And which he stopped.  Can you blame him?  I'm supposed to be his best friend, but all I ever do is lie to him.  All I ever do is lie to all my so-called ‘friends’!"

When his mom's hand closed over his, he realized he'd bent the fork back in two.  He scoffed in disbelief and dropped it onto the plate, pulling away from her at the same time.  He steadied himself and let out a long, slow breath.

"Son, I know having to hide who you are is hard for you, b—"

Clark's head snapped up.  "You have no idea."

His father gaped at him.  Clark's gaze shifted to his mom, then back down to his plate.  He couldn't have eaten anything if they'd paid him.

He pushed his way out of the chair and to his feet.  "But this isn't about me.  Is it?  It's about Lex.  And whether you like it or not, Dad, Lex is one of my best friends."

Jonathan uncrossed his arms and walked over to place a hand on his son's shoulder.  "Clark, remember that a man is often judged by the quality of company he keeps.  And one day you'll find that Lex's lack of scruples will—"

Clark jerked his shoulder out of his father's grip.  "Lex is not an unscrupulous man just because he has ambition!" he shouted.  His dad was gearing up for rebuttal, Clark could feel and see it, but he just pressed on.  "You don't know him," he said, very carefully, and very clearly.  "Almost no one really does.  But he deserves your respect.  He's a man who would sacrifice anything for someone he cares about, and a man who works hard, and a man who has a vision and stands by it."

Jonathan took a breath to speak, but Clark shook his head, pleading with his eyes.

"He's not evil, Dad," he went on.  "He's not perfect—he has faults.  But he's not evil.  He's just... grey.  Grey like every other person on the face of this planet.  Grey like me.  Grey like you, grey like mom," he gestured at them each in turn.  "And he's trying... real hard... to be the best person he can.  Just like the rest of us.  I wish you wouldn't judge him so harshly.  Just... just give him a chance."

His dad's eyes softened, his face opened up, and he slowly placed his hand back on Clark's shoulder.  "Clark..." he said quietly.

"Please, Dad.  Please.  Can't you just try?  Can't you just try to not hate him?"

"I don't hate Lex, son."

"So act like it."

There was a long, tense silence as Clark pleaded openly with his father and Jonathan watched him carefully.  At length, he squeezed Clark's shoulder and let his arm drop to his side, neither agreeing nor dissenting.

Clark took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh of disappointment.  When he breathed normally again, he became abruptly aware that he could easily smell ginger and musk on himself.  His face began to burn.  He backed carefully out of his father's personal space.  "I'm sorry, Dad," he mumbled.  "I didn't mean to turn this into an argument."

"It's my fault as much as yours, Clark.  I know Lex is your friend."

Clark nodded jerkily, feeling his face and neck heat further, and was glad his parents had the good grace not to mention it.  "I'm not really hungry, okay?  I'm gonna go upstairs."

His mom was already reaching for the plate.  "It's okay, honey.  I'll take care of this.  You go rest."

Feeling a little guilty about the wasted food and letting his mom clean up after him, he jetted up the stairs anyway, and into his room.  Once the door was closed, he leaned back against it and sighed heavily, closing his eyes.

He was sick of hiding.  Not just hiding his powers, but all of it.  He was sick of hiding from Lex.  And he was sick of hiding Lex from everyone else.  He was sick of having to sit by and let his dad talk bad about his lover, and not even being able to defend him properly because he couldn't say how he felt.

He was sick of trying to carry on a relationship with someone while hiding the essence of who he was.  He was tired of being a goddamned hypocrite.

He just wished there was one person.  Just one person who knew every stinking thing about him.  Just one person who he never had to hide from, one person who accepted him in every way.

He thought about Pete, but there was just no way.  He could never tell Pete about Lex.  Pete hated Lex.  Pete hated Lex almost as much as his dad hated Lex.  He was only quieter about it because he didn't think it was his place to tell Clark who to hang out with, and Clark appreciated that, because it was true.

He thought about his mom.  But he could have never asked her not to tell her husband about he and Lex if she'd known.  It would have just been too big of a favour to ask, too much of an imposition on the implicit trust of his parents’ marriage.  It wouldn't have been fair, right, or even prudent.

Then he thought about Lex.  What if Lex knew everything? he wondered.  Everything about him: Every weird fact, every strange occurrence, every truth behind every lie he'd ever told.

But then he thought about how Lex had said he hated liars.  He thought about the connection Lex saw between the two of them because he believed—with good reason—that he and Clark were two of kind.  He believed Clark was a meteor mutant, and that that connected them somehow.  Clark knew that that was the secret Lex really thought he was hiding.  He knew that that was why Lex was so open with him about his own strangeness—the baldness, the healing, the unusually active and effective immune system.

Clark could see it was a connection that Lex treasured, one he clung to when all others failed him.  He and Clark were two of a kind in some inherent way.  Clark couldn't stand to take that away from him.  Clark couldn't stand to say, ‘Not only have I been lying to you ever since we met, but you're also dead wrong about the reason why.  We're not two of a kind.  We're not even the same species.’

There was no one.  No one but him and the people he distributed only pieces of his life among.

He took a deep breath and pushed off from the door.

So what?  Suck it up.  He wasn't the only person in the world with secrets, and he wasn't the only person in the world who wished things could be different than they are.  He'd dealt with it this long.  It wasn't going to kill him.

Clark fell onto his back on the bed, and immediately wished he'd brought that book up with him.  He had a sudden and powerful urge to learn everything there was to know about the Hittites.  In fact, he was sure that for the rest of his life, whenever he heard mention of the Hittites, his ears would perk up and the speaker would have his undivided attention.  He might even be developing a Hittite kink.

At least, that was what he thought as he glanced down with a raised eyebrow at the tent beginning to be pitched in his pants.  He was probably the only high school student in history who was thinking about whacking off while reading dry passages about an ancient, dead civilization.

Well.  At least now he knew what he was going to do his term paper on.


*


"Clark?"

"Hm?"

Chloe actually began to wave a hand in front of his face.

Clark met her eyes and looked at her like she was being silly.  "What?  I'm listening."

"Dude, you are totally zoned out," Pete chimed in.  "What is the deal?"

Clark shrugged, feeling the grin stick with determination on his face.  There was movement at the door, and he glanced up.

When his point of view changed, both Chloe and Pete turned to look, saw Lana there, turned back, rolled their eyes at him in unison, and went two different directions.

"Hey, Lana," they both said, one after the other.

She smiled at them both in return, then came farther into the office.  "Hi, Clark."

"Hey."  His smile had faded a little at his friends’ teasing, which he really didn't deserve.  But it widened again in greeting.  Lana was dressed in soft pinks, a single thin braid going down one side of her face, almost lost in the rest of her straight hair, and she looked sweet and pretty.  He still liked looking on her.

"Are we still on for that movie to-night?"

"Huh?"

Oh, god.  The movie.  With Lana.  Friday night.  And Clark had already made plans with Lex.

Oh, god.

"Oh, god."

Chloe's head snapped up.  "Well, that doesn't sound good."

"Oh, Lana, I'm so sorry.  I forgot all about—"

She waved him off, looking vaguely disappointed through her smile.  "That's all right, Clark.  It'll play another night."

"It's just, I promised... I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, Clark.  It's not as if you're actually standing me up or anything."

Clark's eyes widened, and he shook his head seriously.  "No, I wouldn't do that, Lana."

She kind of froze in place, and her expression became slightly wry without actually changing.

Clark shifted his weight and rolled his eyes at himself.  "I mean, I wouldn't do it ag—" he broke off and sighed shortly.  "We'll go next time it plays.  I swear."

She nodded, looking only a little hurt, then shrugged and bade everyone good-bye.

As soon as she'd left the room, Pete was there, clapping him on the shoulder, and Chloe was chuckling from beside the filing cabinets.  "Smooth, man.  Real smooth."

Clark hung his head.

"Clark," Chloe said, shutting the file drawer with a chuckle, "you seriously need a PDA, and I am not talking about a public display of affection."

"Right.  Day planner.  I'll put it on my list."

Pete clapped his back once more in sympathy, and then the three of them gathered up their things and went to their respective classes.


*


"Clark..." he moaned from beneath Clark's body, and stretched up to nip at his neck.

Clark gasped, his hips losing their only recently established rhythm.  "It feels great when you do that," he whispered.

Lex raised up farther and bit down at the juncture of neck and shoulder.  Clark tensed in place.  "Do you like that?" Lex asked once he'd released the overheated skin.

Clark nodded wordlessly, eyes closed tight, lips parted in unconscious invitation.  Lex accepted.

"Mm," Clark moaned, and pressed Lex firmly down into the sofa cushions.  A hand slid under the back of Lex's head as if offering a pillow to rest on.

When their kiss was broken, and Lex opened his eyes to the sight of Clark looking pained above him, he decided to voice what he was thinking.  "Clark... you know, this would be a lot more comfortable upstairs."

"I'm okay," Clark panted, and nuzzled into Lex's neck.

Lex let it go for a few minutes until his inability to manoeuvre his legs properly began to get on his nerves again.  "Clark, wouldn't it be nice to have a little extra room to move?  Hm?"

Clark remained silent, face still pressed against Lex's skin.

At length, Lex tried to shrug him out.  "Hey.  Hey, look at me."  Hesitantly, Clark pulled away and looked down at him, biting at his bottom lip.  "Hey, you know that... just because we go into another room—just because we go into the bedroom—it doesn't mean that we have to do anything different than what we're doing right here.  We don't have to do anything at all.  It's only for comfort."

Clark still looked a little unsure, his brow furrowed while he chewed contemplatively at his lower lip.

Lex smiled.  "You don't think I'm trying to trick you into bed so I can have my wicked way with you, do you?"

Clark laughed out loud.  "No.  No, I don't think that."

"Well, good."  Still smiling softly, Lex tugged at Clark's arm braced by his ribs.  "Come on.  Let me up," he suggested quietly.  "Let's go upstairs."

When Clark didn't move at first, but only watched him carefully, Lex leaned up and rubbed his open lips over Clark's—not kissing, just touching.  "You'd be amazed," he said lowly, "how much easier it is... to enjoy something like this... when you don't have to worry... about the cushion under your ass slipping off the couch."

Clark laughed against Lex's lips, then kissed them once, twice, close-mouthed, and got to his feet.  "Okay," he agreed, smiling.  "Okay, let's go."  He reached down to offer Lex his hand, and Lex took it, but got to his feet under his own power.

Lex was very careful as he led Clark away, frightened he might change his mind and back out at any moment.  But Clark's eyes remained bright and his smile stayed in place as they made their way down the hall and up the small flight of stairs to Lex's bedroom.

He kept eye contact as much as he could, looking away only to make sure he didn't trip.  He walked backwards most of the way, and Clark smiled at him in a flirty, almost knowing way, using his long eyelashes to their utmost potential.  By the time they'd actually made it to the door, Lex wondered if he was the more nervous of the two.

Offering a lopsided grin, Lex pushed the door open, flinging it wide, and invited Clark in with a grandiose arc of his arm.  "Welcome to my humble abode."

Clark quirked an eyebrow.  "Humble?  I doubt it."

Lex shot him a wry look as he passed by and entered the room.  Then he followed close behind, shutting the door behind them and quietly turning the lock.

Lex's bedroom was very simplistic and quiet in tone—he preferred no distraction when trying to sleep.  Tones of grey and silver dominated, and there was very little furniture other than the bed and the night tables on either side of it.  It didn't take Clark long to take it all in and turn back toward him, smiling.

"I would have bet money it was going to be just like this."

Lex tilted his head, intrigued, and slipped his hands into his pockets.  "Really?  And why is that?"

Clark shrugged and imitated him, pocketing his own hands.  "Spartan.  Somehow... I just knew that your bedroom, of all places, was going to be spartan."

"And... how often do you find yourself imagining the interior of my bedroom?"

Clark blushed and ducked his head.  He didn't respond.

"I see."

Lex advanced, but side-stepped him and settled himself on the edge of the bed.

Clark turned to follow him with his eyes.  "I like it," he said quietly when Lex was seated.  "It's you."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Lex said softly, and smiled.

Clark shrugged one shoulder and shuffled a step closer.  "Just an observation.  You're kind of a... focussed, head-on kind of guy.  Something just told me you wouldn't want any distractions when you were... doing... bedroom..." he cleared his throat, "...type things."

"Like sleeping."

"Uh, right.  Like sleeping."

Lex was smirking and couldn't bring it down.  He reached out toward Clark's body, still several feet away.  "C'mere, Clark," he murmured.

Clark's right leg twitched in place before he actually stepped closer.  He crossed the space between them as if it might be filled with poisonous snakes.

"Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid," he shot back indignantly.

Lex smiled.  "All right.  Come closer."

Clark only advanced as far as Lex's knees.  When Lex opened his legs wide and tugged Clark a little by his belt loops, he finally shuffled forward the last bit until his legs were against the mattress and Lex was looking up at him at a sharp angle.  "I meant what I said, Clark.  The change of venue means nothing.  Nothing between us has to change until you want it to."

As if having taken a cue, Clark's cheeks darkened and his eyes hooded.  His breathing sped up just enough to be noticeable.  The mild smell of his arousal inches from Lex's nose increased in pungency.  Lex's nostrils flared to let the scent in faster.  He swallowed, struggling not to push into it.

It began to look like they were just going to stare at one another all night.  Maybe they'd just let the tension build and build until it had to break from longevity, or until they both came in their pants just from watching one another.

Clark's gaze suddenly broke away from Lex's own to slide down his body.  Lex felt as if his buttons were being undone, one by one, as Clark's eyes travelled over them.  His shirt was heavy and hot and rough on his skin.  He wanted it off.

"Clark—"

Clark's fingers tugged at the open collar.  "Take this off."

Lex longed to rush to obey, but went slowly instead.  One button at a time, holding Clark's gaze when it was offered, and breathing as steadily as he could.  Expecting to have to get to Clark's later, he was surprised to see big, jittery hands fluttering over the flannel's fastenings.

His own shirt half open, he reached out and took Clark's hands in his own.  "Kiss me," he demanded softly.

Clark had to lean way down to do it.  As the kiss stretched on, Lex started to lean back.  No protest came, so he leaned back a little farther and a little farther and...

Soon, Clark was crawling atop him on the bed.  With some easy shifting about that Clark not only cooperated in, but also assisted with, they found their way to the pillows.  There, kissing and necking comfortably took back up where it had left off downstairs.

"Let's finish getting these off," Lex murmured, and tugged at the open flap of Clark's flannel.

Clark hovered above him, shouldering out of it, and tossed it carelessly onto the floor.  He was already working on Lex's buttons again before he'd gotten the tee shirt completely over his head.

Lex helped him slide the remaining few through.  He slipped it off his arms and Clark tugged it carefully out from under him.  Lex ran flat hands up Clark's stomach and chest, ending with a grip on his shoulders to pull him back down, and Clark descended with a quiet sigh.

As Clark nosed around underneath Lex's ear, Lex bit softly at his neck, enjoying the sound of his moan, and the way he turned slightly away, as if trying to hide it.  Clark went very suddenly very still atop him.  Lex swiped a flat tongue over the red blotch he'd made.

"Lex... you have a picture of me on your nightstand."

Lex froze.  His tongue was still hovering just past his lower teeth in shock.

Oh, god, the picture.  The picture!  How could he forget?  How could he forget for a single moment?  It was sitting there, as it always was, in a silver Tiffany's frame, angled in such a way that Lex could see it easily when his head was on his pillow.  And now Clark was staring at it.

"Um... M—... uh..."

Clark pulled back, away from Lex's mouth, and looked down at him.  "How long has that been there?"

Lex swallowed and said nothing, just to avoid stuttering.

"Since... we've been... dating?"

He smiled slightly at Clark's tripping over the word.  What they were was a bit difficult to categorize with a single designation, and they both knew it.  "It's..." Lex glanced over at it.  "It's been there a while, Clark."

Clark blinked slowly, then looked back to it.  "It's... not a very good picture," he said.  He looked at Lex out of the corner of his eye.  "I could give you a better one.  If you want it."

"I..." Lex's gaze flitted between Clark and the picture.  "Actually, I kind of like this one."

"I don't even remember having that picture taken."

"Well..."  Lex adjusted his head on the pillow.  His heartbeat began to come down slightly from the original panic that had hit when Clark had noticed the thing.  "Maybe that's why it's so accurate."

"Accurate?  How do you mean?"

"That picture really... captures you, Clark.  In the eyes.  It captures your reality in the eyes.  When I look at that picture, I see you... not a representation of you."

Clark smiled down at him wryly.  "Lex, when you look at that picture, you see me having a bad hair day."

Lex laughed and shook his head.  "If you say so."

Clark kissed him on the lips chastely, then laid his head on Lex's chest.  Their short conversation had broken the building sexual tension, and wrapping his arms around Clark's back felt warm and comfortable now instead of maddening.  His loins were still awake, they just weren't so insistent.

"Where'd you get that picture, anyway?"

Lex's breath caught in his throat, and he began to be able to feel his heart beating madly against Clark's cheek.  Clark must have felt the change—there was just no way he could have not.  Lex's heart was veritably slamming against his ribcage.

Clark's head adjusted minutely on his chest.  He sighed.  "You got it from Nixon, didn't you?"

Lex swallowed, his completely dry tongue making a clicking sound.  He wanted to lie.  Say he found it on the internet.  Found it in a newspaper.  Got it from the school.  But he wasn't going to.  "Yes, I did, Clark."

Clark finally raised his head and gazed at him.  He was smiling softly.

Lex tried to swallow again, but there was nothing there.  "I kept... I kept some of the things he got for me.  There were a few photographs... I just didn't want to throw them out."

Clark shrugged a shoulder.  "It's okay."

"I didn't keep—" Lex cut himself off, not actually wanting to go into what he'd gotten rid of: The cold, hard evidence.  The video of Clark getting out of a truck, unharmed, after it had exploded.  He'd kept a few stills, but destroyed the tape.  He'd seen it, and that was enough for him, but if anyone who didn't care for Clark as much as he did were to see that... there was no telling what steps they might take to bend Clark to their own will.  Smoking guns were not to be tolerated when it came to Clark's differences.

"I know.  It's all right.  It's just a picture."  He moved up until their faces were even again.  "I think it's kind of nice that you keep a picture of me.  I'd like to have one of you."

The corner of Lex's mouth turned up.  "Where would you put it, Clark?  If I had to make a guess, I'd say your mother still cleans up your room occasionally."

Clark's cheeks coloured and he came just short of ducking his head in embarrassment.  "Right.  Um..."

Lex shook his head, his hands sliding up over Clark's shoulders.  "No," he said with a small smile.  "If you want to see me, you're just going to have to come here and see me.  Call it relationship security."

Clark snorted softly and laid his head on Lex's shoulder.  "Right.  Cause I'm sure your lovers are always leaving you as soon as they manage to finagle a picture outta ya."

It was a wisecrack, not a complaint.  Lex chuckled, running his fingers through the back of Clark's silky hair just for the feel of it.  "If you can think of a good place to hide it, I'll get you one."

Clark turned his head and laughed against Lex's right pec.

"What?"

He raised his head, smiling, and still laughing quietly.  "Lex, all I have to do is buy a copy of Time Magazine."

Lex closed his eyes, snorting at himself, and laughed.  "That is an exceedingly good point."

Clark kissed him then, gentle and still smiling, then rolled off of him and hugged him close while they lay on their sides.  Lex moved into him easily, enjoyed the sensation of Clark's larger body wrapping around his, his breath soft against Lex's temple, his lips brushing there occasionally in more of a caress than a kiss.  His touch made Lex's body feel heavy and his mind light.  He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment.

"Aren't you glad we moved to the bed, Clark?" he murmured.  "A bit roomier, isn't it?"

Clark lifted his head, looked around them, behind Lex, behind himself, then met Lex's half-open eyes.  "Actually... I don't think we're using any more of the bed than we ever do of the couch."

Lex laughed lazily, realizing he was right: Curled up tightly around one another like this in the middle of the mattress, they were probably even taking up slightly less room than the sofa would have allotted them.  "Well... it's the principle of the thing."

"Huh.  Hey, you know..."  One of Clark's hands came back around Lex's shoulder and slid down to pluck gently at the clasp of his slacks.  "We never did manage to get these things off, did we?"

Lex looked sluggishly down at himself and his half-clad state.  "No, I suppose we didn't."

Clark watched him for a beat.  "You look sleepy.  Are you sleepy?"

"Hm," Lex grunted noncommittally.

"Do you wanna shuck some of this stuff and take a nap with me?"

Lex felt his eyebrows quirk up, and a half smile stretch his lips.  "Well, let me think abo—Yes."

Clark laughed breathily, let go of Lex's button, and hugged him tight, shoving his face against Lex's neck.  Then when he quieted, he let go, rolling onto his back, and started undoing his own button-fly.  He worked faster than Lex did, and was down to his boxers as Lex was just getting to the fasteners of his slacks, having started with his socks.  Clark lay there on his back, watching him patiently.  Lex threw him a grin and sped up just a little, finally kicking his pants lazily off his legs and the bed, which ended up looking a little comical, and made Clark chuckle.

They squirmed around, getting the sheet and comforter out from under them without getting up, and then Clark pulled it over them both and wrapped Lex up in his arms again.

Lex gazed at him with a small smile.  "Are you actually going to fall asleep this time?"

Clark shrugged.  "I'm not really tired.  But, maybe."

"You're not afraid to fall asleep with me anymore?"

He hesitated, but finally shook his head in the negative.  "No, I don't think so."

"Good.  How long do we have before you have to be home?"

Clark just barely glanced at his watch.  "Hours and hours.  Plenty of time."

"Good," he said again.  He took in a very deep breath, which shifted them both, and let it out slowly.  He didn't know why he felt so tired.  The sun was still up.  But Clark's arms and leg wrapped around him was like an invitation to feel safe and rest.

They lay mere inches from one another on the pillow, both smiling, and Lex watched him as long as he could, eyes going ever farther closed with every slow motion blink.  When they finally closed for the last time, he felt a soft kiss brushed over his forehead before finally losing consciousness.


*


He opened his eyes at the sound of Clark murmuring wordlessly, and shifting numbly against him.  They must have awoken at the same time, because Clark looked just as out of it as Lex felt.

"Hey," Clark greeted softly.  He pointed his face slightly down when he spoke as if to avoid breathing on Lex.

Lex smiled.  "Hey, Clark."  He scooted forward and went about kissing Clark thoroughly on the mouth to express his complete disregard for ‘morning’ breath.

When he let go, Clark's close-lipped smile had grown, but his eyes were still at half mast.  He laughed quietly and found a place between Lex's neck and the mattress to hide his face.  "Lex, I..."  He laughed again.

Lex smiled against his temple.  "What?"

Clark shook his head, and chuckled at what seemed to be himself.  "Nothing.  This is just... really nice."

"Yeah, it is."

The room was dark but for the floodlights at the gate filtering through the stained glass window.  As Clark kissed lightly at his neck, Lex wondered at them sleeping several hours through.

"How much more time do you have?" he asked, hoping for an answer of ‘long enough.’

"Couple hours yet," Clark murmured.  Only afterwards did he lean back and take a glance at his watch.  He triple took it, and just as Lex was going to offer to switch on the light, Clark got his arm out from underneath Lex's head and pressed the Indiglo button.

It shined blue on his face, both lighting and shadowing it, but making it very obvious to Lex when his eyes widened to frightening proportions.  He gasped loudly.

"What—What is it?" Lex stammered as Clark struggled violently out of the bed without a word.

"Oh my god, I missed my curfew!" he exclaimed, tearing through the pile of clothes on the floor.

Lex reached to turn on the light and squinted at the sight of Clark forcing his jeans the right side out and yanking them on.

"Curfew?" Lex asked in disbelief.  "It's Friday night!"

"I told my folks I'd be home by ten!  Oh, god!"  He was rushing around like a madman, hands shaking as he tried to get his clothes on, making it take longer than it would have if he'd been composed.

"Clark," Lex tried, but Clark didn't seem to hear him.  "Clark!  Just slow down.  Hey."

Clark seemed to freeze, staring up at him with comically wide eyes, but his hands were still going like mad, getting his tee shirt the right side out.

"You're already late.  Rushing around now isn't going to change that.  Just calm down."

He did take a slightly deeper breath, but when he pulled his shirt on, it was still hurried.  "Where's my boots?" he asked, spinning around and leaning to look under things.  "Do you know?"

"They're downstairs, Clark.  Just calm down."

Clark nodded as he stepped haphazardly into his socks.

"Look—" Lex cut himself off with a sigh.  "Clark, I'll drive you home.  I'll explain to your parents that—"

"Are you crazy?  No way!  I'm never late coming home from your place!  If you drove me in and made some excuse—god, Lex, that would look awful!  No!"  He paused for only a moment to button up his jeans.  "No, I'll walk home.  Like you said, I'm already late, it doesn't matter.  I'll walk home, and I'll think up some believable reason why I'm late, and it'll be like I was never here."

Clark shoved his arms into his flannel and yanked it into place in front of him.  "If anyone asks, Lex, I was just never here."  He came forward then, crawled onto the bed, and kissed Lex hard on the mouth twice in quick succession.  "I was never here," he whispered close.  "Okay?  I was never here, Lex."

"B—"  Before Lex could get a word out, Clark ran out the door, slamming it behind him, and caused a cacophonous clatter in the corridor that made Lex worry about his art collection.

Lex sat in his bed, covers to his waist, feeling stunned, bereft, and kind of low.  He got the point, and it made sense, of course, but it still bothered him a little to be told that Clark ‘was never here.’  He knew Clark didn't mean it that way, but it was like saying that everything they'd said and done to-night didn't really happen, or didn't really count.

Vowing to try to put the self-pity on the shelf for a little while, he sighed heavily and fell back into his pillows.


*


The knocking at the door was at once quiet and frantic.

Pete paused his video game and dragged himself off the sofa to go answer it.  He checked the clock and, seeing it was almost 10:30, got a little antsy about who might be dropping by unannounced.  "Who's there?" he called quietly at the door, hoping to not wake his mom.

"It's Clark, Pete.  Please let me in."

"Clark?" he muttered to himself as he turned the locks.

Clark was crowding his way inside before Pete had the door open half an inch.

"Whoa, man.  What's up?  You okay?"

Clark looked panicked; his eyes were the size of walnuts in his face.  "Pete I need a huge favour.  You've gotta help me."

Pete gestured for him to come in so he could close the door behind them, then led Clark into the kitchen.  "Sure, man, whatever you need.  Just keep it down.  My mom went to bed with a migraine."

"Oh, sorry."  Clark's voice dropped to an anxious whisper.

"What is it?  Some kind of weird alien thing goin’ on?"

"I can't talk about it," he whispered.  "Pete, I'm really sorry, but I need you to... I need you to get your parents to let me stay the night.  I have to call my folks, I have to—"  Clark's shaking hand went to his forehead, and he pushed his sweaty hair back.

"Whoa.  Clark, what's goin’ on, man?  You look totally freaked."

"I'm sorry.  I... I have to call my folks, and I have to tell them that I've been over here.  I mean, I have to tell them I've been here for hours, okay?"

Pete laid a reassuring hand on Clark's shoulder.  "Sure, man.  I'll back you up.  My mom's been up there for a while, she won't know.  And you know she won't mind if you're here in the morning.  She likes you better than she does me, I think."

Clark let out an audible heavy breath and seemed to go limp all over.  He didn't even crack a smile at Pete's joke.

"Clarkbar, what is going on?  You can tell me, man.  You know I got your back."

Clark shook his head, pulling an apologetic face.  "I'm really sorry, Pete.  I know it's a lot to ask, but I need you to do this for me, and not ask me any questions.  I can't talk about it.  I just can't."

Pete had to stop himself from flinching back.

There was something serious going on with Clark.  Had been for some time, and it was getting worse, Pete could see it almost every day.  It seemed to really be weighing on him, and if he wasn't talking to Pete about it and he wasn't talking to his parents about it, then it must have been something really heavy.  And if it was something that bad, then it must have been pretty awful to be dealing with it all alone.

The truth was, Pete wasn't feeling too good about agreeing to lie for Clark, not knowing why he was doing it, or who he was protecting other than Clark.  But Clark was his best friend, and Pete knew he was the only person that Clark had ever told all of his secrets to.  As a good friend, there was really no other answer he could give besides ‘yes’ until he knew for a fact that whatever was up with Clark was something that was bad for him—like red meteor rock.

As soon as he had that thought, he did a quick intake of everything Clark was wearing, but didn't see any of the noxious red stone.  Clark wasn't acting like he was on the stuff anyway.  He was acting scared, not callous.

"It's okay," Pete said finally, clapping Clark's shoulder and taking his arm back.  "What's the story?"

"Uh... I was—we were just hanging out, playing video games or something," Clark gestured over the bar at the game on pause on the television, "and we completely lost track of time, and I just now realized how late it was, and since it's so late, if it's okay with them, I'll just stay over."

Pete shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.  "Yeah, that's cool.  You know where the phone is, man.  But, uh," he looked Clark up and down once and tilted his head, "if I were you, man, I'd chill out a little first.  Talk to them sounding like that and they'll be onto you in a millisecond."

"Right."  Clark shoved his fingers through his hair again.  "Can I use your bathroom?"

Pete gestured out of the kitchen.  "You know the way."

With a small, sickly smile, Clark brushed by him and hurried in, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Pete sighed loudly through his nose into the empty kitchen, and fell back into the countertop, leaning heavily on it.  Whatever was going on, Pete could at least be sure that if it presented any danger to him, Clark would tell him so that he could protect himself.  But he had a pretty good inkling that whatever it was, it was strictly Clark-related, which meant it was probably some weird alien thing.

But the thing that was getting to him was that if it was some weird alien thing, why would Clark hide it from his parents?  Unless he was getting into something that he knew his folks wanted him to stay away from.  If there was one thing Pete had learned about the Kents, it was that if they thought it was best you didn't get involved in something, then it was probably best that you didn't get involved in it.

So, great: Now he was really worried.

Clark came out of the bathroom looking much more composed, if still a little flushed.  Pete stood up straight again and offered an unconcerned grin.  He gestured toward the phone with an open palm, and Clark threw him a smile and went over to it.

They watched each other silently as Clark waited for someone to pick up the line.  Then Clark looked completely the other way from him when he started to talk.  Pete figured it was probably easier to lie to his parents if he didn't have to look at anyone while he did it.

"Mom?  ...  Yeah, I know.  I'm sorry.  I'm over at Pete's.  We just totally lost track of time playing this new video game.  ...  No, I'm okay.  I was just thinking that, you know, since it's already so late, and we're only three quarters done with the game, maybe I could stay over?  ...  No, Pete already asked his mom, she's fine with it.  ...  No, you don't have to bring anything.  I'll be fine.  ...  Okay.  Thanks, Mom.  ...  Love you, too.  Bye."

He placed the handset gently back into the cradle and sighed long and loud.

Pete watched him from behind carefully.  God, he'd forgotten what a smooth liar Clark was.  It was sort of disturbing to watch when you knew what was going on.

"Thanks a lot, Pete," Clark said toward the phone.  "You have no idea how you just saved my butt."

Pete opened his arms in a gesture of clueless agreement as Clark turned to look at him.  "Ain't that the truth."  At Clark's pained look, Pete just laughed quietly and pushed off from the countertop.  He waved it off.  "It's no problem, man.  Really.  You need me, I'm here.  That's what friends are for, right?"  He pointed toward the living room.  "Now why don't you get ready to get your butt whooped on the game of your choice?"

The smile that had been sneaking onto Clark's face slid off like oil.

Pete stopped in his tracks.

"Pete, I..."

"You're not actually staying here."  Clark's face screwed up in apology.  "Clark, what the hell am I supposed to say if your folks call here in the morning?"

"Oh, no," Clark rushed, shaking his head, and took a couple steps toward him.  "If they call and, you know, the jig is up, just—"

"‘The jig... is up’?"

Clark sighed.  "I mean... just tell them I left."

"To go where?"

"Wherever.  Say you don't know."

"Oh, so I can tell the truth a little, then?"

Clark's jaw went slack for a second, then closed, and he shoved his hands into his back pockets, looking guilty.

Pete started to feel a little boorish.  He'd agreed to help Clark out.  Maybe he shouldn't be snapping at him about it now.  "Look, I'm sorry, man.  It's just: I wish I knew what's going on with you.  You seem so stressed out, and you're not talking to anyone about it...  I'm just worried about you, Clarkbar."

"Pete, I'm fine.  Really.  And I really appreciate you doing this for me.  It means a lot."

"Yeah, well... I hope I'm doing the right thing, Clark."

Clark nodded, swallowed hard.  "You are, Pete.  Really."

Pete looked into Clark's eyes for a long time, not even knowing what he was looking for.  He finally just sighed quietly and gave an acceding tilt of his head.  "All right, man.  Well, wherever you're headed, just be careful, all right?"

Clark smiled—a real one this time.  "I will.  Thanks."

And with that and a rush of air, Clark was gone.

Pete shook his head, then went to lock the door behind him.  He just wished there was something he could do to help.


*


Lex opened his eyes to the sight of his pillow in his arms, and didn't know why he had awoken.

"Hey."

He jerked backwards and twisted toward the sound.  His fingers fumbled with the lamp's switch in a panic, and when harsh light finally flared to life, half blinding him, he found Clark standing a few feet from his bed, smiling.  "Clark?" he asked in sleepy confusion.

"Hi."

"...Hey."  Lex rolled more fully onto his back and rubbed at his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand.  "I thought you went home."

"Yeah.  Well, I made up a good excuse."

Lex looked up at him, blinking disorientation out of his eyes, and tried to wrap his fuzzy mind around the elusive logic in this unexpected train of events.  "Well, shouldn't you be in for the night, then?"

"No, I..." Clark shrugged.  "I told my parents I wouldn't be home."

"Where do they think you are?"

Clark hesitated, chewing at his bottom lip.  "Maybe... it'd be better if you didn't know that.  You think?  I mean... you wouldn't know, right?  If I was really wherever.  You wouldn't know where I was.  I mean, if for any reason someone should ask... you don't know where I was to-night.  Right?"

This, Lex could see the logic in.  A corner of his mouth went up.  "I guess not, Clark."

Clark didn't say anything for a while, just shifted there in place, looking uncomfortable and unsure.  Finally, he moved a little closer, knees not quite touching the mattress.  "I, um... I made plans to be somewhere.  I mean, to stay somewhere for the night.  But I'd... well, I'd rather stay here.  If..."

Lex remained silent, just gazing up at him with a small smile on his lips.

"I mean, I know that's kind of rude, inviting myself, but I—"

"Clark," Lex broke in with a laugh.  "Don't explain it to me, just get into the bed."

With a lopsided smile, Clark let out a sigh of relief and began stripping as he walked around the foot of the bed to the other side.  Lex moved the pillow he'd been gripping in sleep back against the headboard.  He watched curiously as Clark disrobed with only moderate bashfulness.

"You didn't actually think I might say ‘no,’ did you?"

Clark shrugged as he got under the covers.  "I don't know.  I mean, I wasn't sure.  You're a private kind of a guy, right?  Random people just bursting into your bedroom in the middle of the night, demanding to be put up..."

"Clark, you're hardly ‘random people.’"

Lex scooted toward him as the blankets settled over them both.  He offered a kiss before they were finished wrapping their arms around one another, and tasted the familiar candy mint that Clark unfailingly chewed before walking through Lex's front door.  It would take nearly twenty minutes for the strength of the taste to fade enough so that Lex didn't feel cheated out of Clark's own flavour.  But if they kissed enough, it tended to go away faster.  Lex was all about it going away faster.

He delved deeply into the cool, wet, menthol cavern that was Clark's mouth, scraping his tongue along Clark's, trying to slough the flavour away and get at what he knew was hiding underneath: Spice and tang and warmth.  Clark's taste was like a drug Lex couldn't build up a resistance to.  Maybe he didn't want to.

"Mmm," Clark hummed into his mouth.  His legs shifted under the sheets until one knee slipped between Lex's thighs.  Clark's leg was chilly in comparison against Lex's sleep warmed skin.  But Lex doubted that was what caused the rash of goose bumps that pricked up on contact.

Clark shifted forward just a touch more, and Lex started at the feel of hardness already pressing into his hip.  He was slightly less surprised to become aware of the fact that his own body was answering the call pretty swiftly.

"Clark, you're a wonderful kisser," he murmured when it was broken.

"I am?" Clark asked innocently, and lowered his eyes with a slow motion blink that made Lex's belly flutter.

One of these days, he was going to have to call Clark on his flirting.  No one should be able to get away with that for as long as he had.  "Oh, yeah," Lex breathed, running mouth over Clark's half open lips.  "Your lips are made for it.  I've never seen you and not thought that your mouth was begging to be kissed."

Clark shrugged a shoulder, the tips of his ears turning red.  He glanced up to catch Lex's gaze, then looked down again.  "I think I have kind of a girl's mouth."

"Who are these girls?  Will you introduce me to them?"

"Hey!"

Lex laughed at Clark's pseudo-offended look and got a wide grin in response.  "Just kidding," Lex mumbled, though it was hardly necessary.

Clark's grin softened to a smile, and he stared for a few beats at Lex's lips while Lex struggled not to rub at the stripe of hard heat pressing into him.  "I like the way you kiss," Clark finally breathed.

"And how's that?"

"You kiss strong—like you really mean it.  Like you wanna... taste, and... make me feel things at the same time."

"I do."

"Well, you do," Clark said, and swallowed.  "Make me feel things, I mean."

Lex covered the scant ground between them and sucked at Clark's upper lip, then nibbled the lower.  "What do you feel now?" he asked after he'd backed off only slightly.

"I, um..."  He trailed off, and Lex moved in again, sucked a little harder, licked.  "I feel like..."  His hips hitched.  "I feel like these shorts are too tight."

Lex chuckled softly.  He threw the covers back and mostly off of them—the room's temperature was climbing quickly—and trailed a hand down Clark's body to help push the unwanted fabric off.  They didn't leave the bed, but instead got lost down between the sheets where Clark kicked them.  Then he scooted forward again, finding the place his leg had been resting.  His erection pressed, heated and silky, against Lex's thigh.

Lex rolled a little more fully onto his hip for leverage, and made a rocking motion against it.  Clark's face disappeared into Lex's neck and he moaned.

"Is that all right?"

"Feels good."

As Lex tilted, Clark slowly moved more and more onto his back, making a silent request Lex understood.  Lex easily and vividly recalled Clark's tentative and not fully explored desire to have Lex atop him, his desire to be without the pressure, or the control.

Lex leaned up on his elbow and encouraged Clark to stay flat on his back while his body was explored.  Clark's leg slid out from its resting place, but stayed bent on the mattress, leaving his legs open and his genitals exposed—almost displayed.

Lex trailed an exploratory hand over face and neck, shoulders and arms, chest and ribs.  The flesh of Clark's belly literally quivered under him when Lex's fingers brushed across it, and Clark gasped quietly, as if the sensation was an unexpected one.

Having to fight to pull his eyes away from where he traversed, Lex managed to glance at Clark's face and found his eyes closed tightly, and his mouth open and shining.  It was an openly anticipatory expression and, while it was beautiful, Lex had a strong desire not to let it sit there long enough to become tortured.

He let his fingers trail more quickly south and skimmed the back of his knuckles over the prominent erection laying back along the line of soft, light, sparse hairs that trailed from Clark's navel to his groin.  It jerked in response, and Clark sighed softly, spreading his legs just a little farther.  This, too, was invitation—it seemed that every move Clark made suggested erotic promise, even the ones he didn't know he was making.

Lex ignored the blatant temptation as long as he could, only stroking Clark's hot flesh in his damp hand with regular, even strokes.  But in time, as Clark's thighs parted farther and farther, Lex could no longer overlook the path that was open to him.  His fingers trailed carefully down, abandoning the most obvious expression of Clark's desire, and he cupped Clark's balls securely in his hand.  Clark moaned, and his legs twitched, but Lex did not knead or massage, he only rested there, either allowing the heat of his hand to soak through, or allowing the heat of Clark's body to soak through him, he wasn't sure which.

It was only when Clark seemed to give in to what he wanted, and his hips began to rotate in small circles, kneading himself in Lex's palm, that Lex chanced straightening his first two fingers out and brushing carefully against Clark's perineum.

Clark gasped loudly, his eyes popped open, and his thighs tensed.

Lex stilled at the movement, waiting for direction to come.  When it didn't, he brushed more firmly at the small strip of sensitive skin.

Clark's head came off the pillow and he looked down as if trying to see what Lex was doing to him.  But he didn't protest.  In fact, his hips began rotating again, and so Lex continued his ministrations.

"What is that?" Clark asked breathlessly.  The moment he spoke, his cheeks darkened.

Lex felt the corner of his mouth twitch up.  "That's your perineum," he answered softly.  He placed a gentle kiss on Clark's shoulder, which was suddenly much closer to him now that Clark had sat up partly.  "And on the other side of it is your prostate."  He pressed a little harder into the spot, and Clark bit at his own bottom lip.  "That's what feels so good."

"Oh," came out in a shudder, and Clark fell back into the pillows without further comment.

"You can do this yourself, when you're alone, Clark."  Clark's face glanced slightly away, and his eyes went closed.  His cheeks burned pink.  "You'll be amazed at how intense the orgasms can be if you do."

Clark said nothing, his face screaming his embarrassment as loudly as his body screamed his desire.

Lex didn't push the subject, intent on keeping desire Clark's top emotion of choice for the moment.  He watched as the silence stretched and the blush drained slightly out of Clark's cheeks, the rose spreading out instead all over his face and neck in a heated flush.  Clark's temples began to shine with a slight sheen of sweat, and the edges of his hair were growing damp.

Lex let his gaze travel over Clark's body: Heaving, thickly muscled chest, nipples like small brown pebbles on his pectorals, ribs visible with each exhale, washboard abs appearing and disappearing erratically as he panted.  His cock lay ignored and reddened on his belly, oozing a viscous clear liquid that smeared uselessly below his navel.  Lex licked his lips, his mouth literally watering.

He was still staring when a shaking hand landed on his hip and tugged impatiently at the last bit of fabric that hindered them.  His gaze flew to meet Clark's eyes.  They were dilated and half closed and focussed quite emphatically on the offending piece of clothing.

"Wait," Lex whispered, searching his face.

Clark met his eyes in confusion, his brow tightening, then tugged harder at his briefs.  "Why?  I want to see you, too."

"Just wait a minute, Clark."

Clark opened his mouth to protest, but Lex began moving before he'd come out with it, and was quickly settling himself between Clark's wide open thighs.  His hands planted themselves on either side of Clark's head, and he took the open lips in a bruising kiss before Clark was able to form a complete sentence.

Shaking hands slid up Lex's back and Clark's hips rose up to meet his before Lex had managed his first thrust.  He took it up easily, though, letting his clothed erection brush over Clark's exposed one until Clark broke away with a loud hiss.  His hands raced down to hook thumbs under the band of the underwear he'd been trying to remove without success.

"Clark," Lex breathed.

"Lex, please take these off..."

"I will," Lex assured him softly, and nodded just twice.

With a sigh of mild irritation, Clark stopped pulling on them, but left his fingers softly on Lex's hips, as if at the ready for the moment Lex would say it was time.

The silence stretched as Lex searched Clark's eyes again, wondering what he would find.  This time, Clark stared back at him unabashedly.  When the quiet seemed to get to be too much for him, his head darted up off the pillows to tangle Lex up in a passionate, deep kiss.

They broke away a minute later, panting.

"Lex, please..."

"Clark, I..." Lex trailed off and laughed softly.  He opened his eyes to Clark watching him with an expression that was beginning to turn into the torture Lex had earlier wanted to avoid.  He wouldn't have avoided it at all if he'd known the beauty it would contain.  It took him a moment to compose his thoughts again.  "Clark... Listen, I hate to even suggest this after what I said downstairs earlier."

Clark shook his head once rapidly, showing impatience.

Lex trailed his open mouth over Clark's, but pulled away when Clark tried to kiss him again.  "Clark... I'd really like to kiss you," Lex breathed against his cheek.  He punctuated it with a soft press of his lips there.

"You are kissing me."

Lex chuckled and leaned up enough so they could focus on one another's eyes.  "Well, I'd like to kiss you somewhere I've never kissed you before, Clark."

Clark's eyes widened very slowly, then all at once fell to half mast again, looking darker.  "Lex, are you talking about—" he broke off, his head tilted down slightly, and he spoke in a hushed, conspiratorial tone.  "...A blowjob?"

Lex very nearly snorted with laughter, but managed to only grin widely.  "Why, yes, I am, Clark," he said smugly.  But as Clark just stared up at him with unblinking eyes, Lex schooled his expression, and smiled with fondness.  "We don't have to do it if you're not ready, or if you think it would be too much.  I'm only asking.  Okay?"

Clark's mouth hung open, and he still hadn't blinked.  He looked shocked and frightened, and Lex resigned himself to waiting a little longer for such a step.

He pressed a tender kiss on Clark's top lip, and started to trail more over his cheek and down his neck.  "It's okay," he murmured along the skin.  "We don't have to rush into—"

"Okay."

Lex froze with his mouth open against Clark's jugular.  It beat at him rapidly: Thrum-thrum, thrum-thrum, thrum-thrum.  It spoke of large quantities of adrenaline streaming at high speed through Clark's veins.  The beat was more noticeable for Clark's holding his breath.  "...Yes?"

"Okay—yeah."

As if nothing had happened, Lex continued pressing soft kisses along the soft, damp skin until he felt the vibration of air finally leave Clark's lungs when he began to breathe again.  Slowly, he trailed an unordered line of kisses up Clark's jawline, down to his clavicle, across to the other side of his neck, over a shoulder, taking his time to taste every inch and catalogue any noticeable reactions he received.  He was heading very slowly—concerned only with Clark's relaxation, and not the passage of time—toward one of the nipples he'd been aching to taste since he'd noticed them, when Clark's large, clammy hands squeezed lightly on his shoulders.

"Lex?"

"Hm?" he was inches from the pebble of dark, tightened flesh on the left side of Clark's defined chest.

"Please don't take your time, okay?  It's just making me more nervous."

Lips pursed against Clark's dewy skin, Lex looked up at him without moving his head.  "Yeah?"

Clark swallowed and nodded, meeting his eyes.  "Yeah, really."

Lex's tongue darted out to steal the sensation of texture from Clark's hardened nipple before he raised his head and smiled into Clark's eyes.  "However you want it, Clark," he said quietly.

At Clark's smile, anxious and grateful together, Lex slid nonchalantly down Clark's body until his shoulders were against each tightly stretched hamstring.

Clark's gaze was wrenched away from him, and he stared with wide eyes at the ceiling, his brow knitted tightly together in apprehension.

"Clark?"

Clark's line of sight darted toward the window, his expression not changing.  "Hm?" came high-pitched from his throat.

Lex blinked, trying not to grin at the display of bashfulness.  "Clark, can't you look at me?"

"...Mm..." it was an unsure sound, and Clark turned his head the other way, examining the intercom on the night table with unfocussed, insincere fascination.

Lex couldn't help but chuckle a little.  He slid his body up slightly so that his head was positioned by Clark's hip instead of his groin.  "Clark?"

Clark looked down at him finally, smiling somewhat sheepishly.

"Hey," Lex said, letting his voice become clear and serious.  "If you need me to stop, just say so."  Lex shrugged.  "But, look, it's your first one, so don't... don't hold back.  If you need to let go, just let go.  Okay?"

Clark's high cheekbones and the tips of his ears went redder than they were already.  He nodded jerkily and looked away again.

"Okay," Lex repeated for him, and gently moved himself back down into position.  Clark's legs jumped and trembled when Lex laid a steadying palm on each of them.  He focussed his attentions there for a while, kissing and licking and kneading at Clark's inner thighs until they started to feel more supple under his fingers.

The tanged odour of Clark's intense arousal teased his olfactory sense long before he finally gave into the urge to nuzzle against the soft, tightly curled pubic hair and inhale deeply.  The scent was indescribable but irresistible.  He smelled innocently passionate and unused, like an intensely effective aphrodisiac that didn't know what it was for.

Lex nosed under and around the heavy sac, picking up every nuance of scent he could find until his nostrils were so filled up with it, it became his entire atmosphere, and he was unable to separate the subtleties of the spectrum anymore.  He wanted to tell Clark what he smelt like, explain the intensity of effect his personal scent had on Lex's equilibrium, but was so affected, he couldn't build a sentence to achieve that end.  "Mmm..." he hummed instead.

As Clark responded with a small, high sound, Lex forced himself out of the strongest haven of Clark's aroma, and concentrated on paying some overdue attentions to his neglected erection.  He pushed the foreskin back with loose pressure, fully exposing the damp, pink, and overheated tip to the comparatively cool air of his bedroom.

Clark whimpered and his hips took up those tiny rotations.

Lex examined the whole of the thing, finally up close for the first time.  His eyes raked both hungrily and lovingly over the thickness of the shaft, the stretching connection of foreskin to corona, the passionate red flush of the glans and the exposed strip of flesh that extended past the loose skin Lex held carefully back from it.  Rope-like veins ran the length of the shaft in clearly illuminated patterns, and Lex felt invitation to trace them with his tongue.

He resisted with difficulty and again, unable to voice the effect Clark's body had on him, he only hummed softly as he leaned down to kiss the shiny, red tip.

Clark's pelvis jerked up, then went forcibly down as Clark tried to control himself.  Lex's free hand slid up Clark's inner thigh to steady him at the hip with a firm grip.

He ran his soft, unflattened tongue up a slow stripe several times, thoroughly wetting only the top half of the underbelly with saliva.  When Clark gasped harshly and tensed in place, Lex only softly moaned up at him and nuzzled down again underneath his sac.

He held Clark's throbbing steel in his hand, running his thumb from mid-shaft to corona over and over again with smooth, steady, and calm strokes, stimulating only the most sensitive nerve endings and no more.

Letting Clark's testes rest heavy and soft on his cheekbone, Lex just barely kissed underneath, then chanced letting his tongue dart out into dangerous territory.  He licked, gently at first, at the strip of skin he knew had already brought pleasure, and when Clark didn't protest, harder and more firmly.

The gap between Clark's tense thighs widened as he pulled them up toward himself until he was completely spread-eagled below Lex's seeking mouth.  He made small sounds of uncertain pleasure, as if he was on the verge of asking if it was all right that he was enjoying what Lex was doing to him.

Lex wedged himself more firmly against that spot, encouraging Clark's legs farther back with a gentle shrug of his shoulders.  His nose was squashed against the crease of Clark's thigh, making it next to impossible to breathe, and he didn't care.

"Lex.  Oh, Lex," Clark was saying, over and over, with several different levels of volume and intonation.

He seemed in control of his hips again, back to small, circular rotations that caused his furred balls to shift and rub softly over Lex's cheek.  Lex brought his hand down to spread the skin under his mouth, stretching it so that he could make a seal with his lips and suck hard at Clark's flushed perineum.

Clark grunted, a tone of disbelief in it, and only got the first two letters of Lex's name past his lips before it was cut off by his erratic breathing.

Lex let the sensitive flesh go reluctantly, as Clark's cock was drying under his thumb.  He leaned up, running open lips over the underbelly again, slobbering more than kissing to wet it again, then stopped suddenly and gathered up the small puddle of fluid that he just noticed had gathered below Clark's navel.  He smeared it down the already slippery path his thumb had chosen to traverse.

When he ducked back to continue his assault between Clark's legs, and took up the repetitive rubbing of his shaft again, the slide had become smoother, the pad of his thumb seeming to simply glide over the top of Clark's heated, moistened flesh without actually creating friction.

Clark's perineum was red and sopping wet in front of him, and he ignored the temptation to attack it again, not wanting the sensations to become muted.  Instead, he rubbed his face carefully over Clark's scrotum, listening to him gasp and moan and whimper at every move Lex made.

The heavy, textured sac was covered in a soft down of silky little hairs.  Lex ran his tongue over them, licking them wet to the skin, encouraging them to lie down flat instead of curling gently up.

Clark grew silent for a moment, didn't seem able to breathe.  But when Lex finally opened himself up to take one of those swollen, round fruits into his mouth and suck on it gently, the groan that Clark let loose with would have ruined them had there been anyone close enough to hear.

Lex's cock was suddenly painful in his briefs, and he quickly pushed at the band of them with his free hand, scratching his own skin in angry, burning lines as he hurriedly forced them down and kicked them off.  As he sucked at Clark's sensitive organ in his mouth, he encouraged him to stretch one of his legs out and, without shame, straddled it and pumped himself against Clark's bony shin.

Lex moaned at the contact, and when Clark shuddered, he moaned again, longer and louder, letting the vibration hum through his lips and transfer into Clark's body.

Unexpectedly, four shaking, wet fingers brushed over the back of Lex's head.  Lex grunted and arched his neck to push into the hovering palm without pulling his mouth away.  As Clark hesitantly laid his entire hand lightly on Lex's scalp, Lex groaned quietly and went about sucking Clark's entire scrotum into his mouth.

Clark let out a shout that cut itself off halfway through.  Lex began to move his head slightly back and slightly forward repeatedly, causing a soft pulling of Clark's sac from his body.  He sped up the light stroking of his thumb, rubbing up and down instead of just up, but didn't tighten his fingers’ grip on the shaft.

Clark's other hand joined the first on Lex's skull.  Two fingers traced carefully over the bony bump on the back of his head as if fascinated with it.

Lex paused in the teabagging he was performing to let Clark's balls roll over his undulating tongue.  The rotation of Clark's hips sped up, and the sounds leaving his throat became more and more choked.  Then Lex hollowed his cheeks and began to suck and release in a swift, controlled rhythm.

When Clark's hands flew from his head, Lex knew he was done.

Clark yelled wordlessly, back arching off the bed, hands curling into tight fists in the sheets, and Lex felt the cock in his hand rear back, then pump hard several times as Clark's release was spurted out all over his own belly.

He let the balls in his mouth slide out, smooth and wet, not wanting to hold on long enough for pleasure to turn to pain.  He held Clark in his hand only a few seconds past the last, weakened spray of semen, then forced himself to let go of it, as well.

Clark was still partly bowed on the bed, face screwed up in exquisite pain, eyes closed tight, mouth locked open, when Lex hummed in satisfaction and began to slide up.  He smeared his lips through the spatters on Clark's belly as Clark collapsed finally to the mattress.  Going slowly, to allow Clark time to open his eyes and see, Lex gently licked and sucked his flushed skin clean.

When he'd found the last of it, he raised eyes he knew were dark and glazed to meet Clark's dazed stare.  Clark was panting hard, the outer corners of his eyes slightly moist.  Lex smiled softly and began to crawl up toward him, keeping him frozen in their eye contact.

As he moved them face-to-face, he opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the chance sensation of his own unsatisfied erection sliding up Clark's inner thigh and bumping with a little shock of pleasure against his pelvic bone.  Lex felt his eyes flare with passion.  He side-stepped Clark's lips and pressed his face into a shoulder, breathing in deeply the smell of clean, spicy sweat that was making Clark's skin shine.

Keeping his balance carefully so he wouldn't slide to a new place, he pulled his hips back and thrust forward gently.  The leaking tip of his cock collided with the soft flesh of Clark's groin again, beside the crease of his thigh, and Lex moaned roughly against Clark's shoulder.

His eyes slipped closed, and he began to pump in a soft rhythm, intense tingles of pleasure slipping constantly along one side of his shaft, followed over and over by the thrill of soft, fleshy collision.

Clark's hands were low on his waist, no longer trembling so violently as they had been.  "Lex, do you want me to—?"

"Shh," Lex admonished quietly, and kissed the skin under his lips without coordination.  Panting erratically, he moved to speak lowly by Clark's ear.  "Is this all right?  If I do this?"

The hands on his waist moved slightly away, then back, as if Clark had flicked his wrists in a gesture of uninformed agreement.  "Yeah," he breathed, and pressed his lips softly against Lex's cheek.

The inside of Clark's thigh was slick with sweat and Lex's precum, and every time he slid along it, it was just a little sweeter than the time before.  Eyes closed, and Clark still panting under him with his legs spread wide, it wasn't difficult for Lex to imagine that this was something even deeper and more significant than it was.

When Clark's damp hand landed hesitantly on his ass, it was even easier.

Lex gasped and let out a shuddering breath.

"Is that okay?"

"Oh god, Clark.  Yeah."

Fingers slid with stuttering friction more fully around his ass cheek.  The tips of first and middle fingers went into his cleft.  Lex pumped forward so hard, he nearly hurt himself.

His reaction was apparently all that Clark needed.  The other hand began to mirror the first on the other side, and then both were seeking carefully downward.

When the thick, soft pads of two of Clark's long fingers found his perineum and pressed uncertainly at it, Lex choked on his own breath.

"Is it there?"

"Uhhh!" and a faster speed of pumping were Lex's only response.

Apparently assured, Clark began to rub it very firmly.  As he tried to get leverage, reaching down and over, his leg straightened out a little, trapping Lex's cock in the crease of his thigh.  Lex's fingers dug hard into the soft parts of Clark's shoulders.

"God, Clark," Lex choked out without breathing.  He pushed forward with one violent thrust that slid him out from between Clark's legs and into the hollow of his hip instead, which is where he made a voluminous mess as orgasm pumped hot fluid through his loins and out.

It ended with an incredible tightening at the base of his cock that made him grunt loudly, then go completely limp atop Clark's heated body.

He lay there, panting into the crook of Clark's shoulder while Clark rubbed tenderly at his back for a long time.

When he felt calm enough to breathe through his nose again, he struggled to lift his head so he could meet Clark's eyes, which were watching him with a mixed expression of satiation and mild worry.  "Was that okay?" he asked softly.

Lex blinked numbly.  "That was wonderful, Clark.  You're wonderful."

Relief flashed across Clark's face, followed by self-deprecation.  He shrugged and scoffed softly.  "I didn't even do anything."

Lex broke into a wide grin.  "Well, you get some pretty incredible reactions for a man who doesn't do anything," he quoted.

Clark snorted, rolled his eyes, and laughed.  He obviously recognized the origin of that particular turn of phrase.

When Clark's quiet laughter faded, Lex's grin followed suit, and they gazed back and forth at one another for some time before Lex lowered to kiss him softly.  When he pulled away, he became conscious of the sticky mess being squished between his groin and Clark's hip, and reached toward the nightstand for a few tissues.  He was aware of Clark watching him clean them both off, but didn't make any indication of it.

After he'd tossed them away, he let his focus go back to Clark's eyes, where he wanted it, and began smoothing the damp hair back from his temples with careful fingers.  Clark's lips were swollen, wet, and red, his face coloured in irregular splotches of pink, his forehead damp and shining.  Lex wanted to tell him he was beautiful, but knew most teenage boys wouldn't take it as a compliment unless their mothers said it.

Instead, he simply offered a soft smile and a softer kiss.  "I'm going to have something brought up," he murmured close to Clark's mouth.  "Do you want anything?"

Clark's hazel eyes were still dazed as they shifted from left to right and he chewed at his bottom lip.

"Ice cream?" Lex chanced.

His eyes went from dazed to lit up in a millisecond.

Lex laughed softly, delighted to have hit on it with the first try.  "What kind?"

"What kind do you—"

"Any kind you want," Lex interrupted, shaking his head slightly and grinning.

Clark grinned back at him, looking almost secretive, and lowered his eyes.  Lex was seriously beginning to wonder if he was taking Flirting 101 as an elective at school.

He chewed at his bottom lip some more before he met Lex's gaze again.  "Um... mint chocolate chip?"

Lex lifted his eyebrows once in affirmation, then laid a quick kiss on Clark's lips and crawled only the top half of his body away to get to the intercom, letting their legs stay tangled together in the sheets.

He pressed at the button once, then took a moment to wipe the sweat off his face with an already damp palm.  When he was done, there was still no answer, so he pressed impatiently at the thing a few more times.  He was thirsty, damn it.

"Yes, sir?"

"Who is this?"

"Michael, sir."

"Michael, bring up, uh... a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream, two spoons and um... two bottles of Ty Nant.  Uh, carbonated."  He let go of the button and glanced back at Clark.  "Are you sure you don't want anything else?"

Clark shook his head.

Lex looked back toward the intercom.  "That's it, Michael."

"Yes, sir.  Right away, sir."

The last disappointed him a little, because he'd wanted to insist it be brought right away, but his staffman had beat him to it.  He crawled on his elbows back to Clark, muttering, "Well, I hope so.  That's what I pay you for," under his breath, just to make Clark laugh, which he did.

Lex smiled and adjusted them to lay on their sides, his back to the door.  Clark glanced at it several times, starting to look worried.  "What?" Lex asked.

"Are they gonna open the door?"

"No," Lex assured him, shaking his head.  "They'll knock and leave it in the hall.  Don't worry."

"Oh, okay."

Apparently relieved they weren't about to be barged in on, Clark's arms tightened around Lex's back, and peace came, finally, into his eyes.  "Do you really think we're going to eat a whole pint?" he asked.

Lex smiled wryly, feeling satiated and heavy-lidded.  "Clark, I'd bet you could eat a whole pint all by yourself."

Clark snickered, but neither agreed nor argued.

They didn't speak again after that, just laid there watching one another in silence until Lex's eyes actually began to close.  They popped back open again a minute later at the sound of someone knocking on the door.

Clark gasped and almost jerked out of the bed.  "Shh," Lex said through a quiet laugh.  "I promise, they won't come in."

Clark stared, unconvinced, at the door.  Eventually, there was a slight clatter as the tray was laid on the floor, then two quick, steady knocks.  Clark tensed up further at each of them, then began to relax as the silence stretched.  "Are they gone?"

"Yeah.  Those knocks mean, ‘I'm going to put it here by the door.  Give me a few seconds to get down the hall, and then you can come get it buck naked if you want.’"

Clark chuckled.

Lex paused.  "Which, I think, is precisely what I'm going to do."  He started to roll out of Clark's grasp, but Clark tried to still him.

"Oh, no, Lex, I'll get it—"

Lex broke in, shaking his head.  "Just lie here and relax, Clark.  I'll get it."  He pressed a quick, silencing kiss on Clark's lips, then slid carefully out of bed and walked on weakened legs to the door.  He chuckled internally at the thought that after what Clark had just experienced for the first time, he probably wouldn't be able to walk far enough steadily enough to get the tray if he'd wanted to.

As Lex opened the door, gave a cursory glance around to see the hall was empty, and bent down to grab the ice cream, the two bottles, and the spoons, leaving behind the glasses, the bowls, the napkins, the scoop, and the tray, the silence of the room behind him changed.  He bit back the smirk as he realized he was being watched.

When he turned back around, Clark was still wide-eyed and only barely managing to control his grin.

"And what is that smile all about?" Lex asked with faux sternness as he walked shamelessly back to bed.  He didn't place any of the implements he had in his hands in front of himself to cover up, when he very easily could have.

Clark said nothing, only laughed through closed lips, making it sound like a guffaw, and shaking his head.  His eyes were still wide and bright and delighted.

Lex crawled in beside him as Clark sat up against the headboard.  "You wouldn't be watching me walk around naked, would you?" he asked in a teasing tone, his smirk finally winning through.

Still, Clark admitted nothing, only smiling and lifting his eyebrows high as if surprised Lex would ask him such a thing.  Lex let it go and offered him one of the cobalt bottles, ripping into his own and downing half of it as quickly as he could without gulping.  He was absolutely parched.

When he lowered the bottle and his eyes came back open from having rolled back into his head in pleasure, he caught the end of a distasteful look on Clark's face as he screwed the cap back onto the bottle.

"What's that face for?" Lex asked curiously.

Clark's head snapped up, and he looked caught for a moment before he just shrugged and gestured with the bottle in his hand.  "Sorry, Lex, but I don't know how you drink this stuff.  It tastes like the bottom of a cardboard box."

Lex gaped.  Ty Nant?  Clark was insulting Ty Nant?  He recovered as quickly as he could.  "And just how many lower ends of pressed paper pulp containers have you personally licked to make this comparison?"

Clark snorted and played along.  "Uh... enough to know it's an accurate one."  He sneered down at the bottle again.

Lex ripped it playfully out of his hand.  "Well, no more Ty Nant for you, if you can't appreciate it!"

Clark held open hands by his head in surrender.  "If that's the way you want it, Lex," he said with a laugh.

Lex leaned over to put both bottles on the nightstand.  He'd finish them both on his own, anyway.  When he pulled back, he kissed Clark on the lips when Clark wasn't expecting it, making him purse back a second too late.  He was busy prying the lid off the ice cream at the time.

"Do you want something else?" Lex asked seriously, but still smiling.  "Soda?"

Clark shook his head, then nodded toward the ice cream.  "No, this is good."  He delved in with one of the sundae spoons as soon as he had the lid off, and shoved a heaping spoonful into his mouth.  His expression opened up as he rolled it around his mouth.  "Oh, wow, ’at ’eally is good," he mumbled around it, already going for another spoonful before he'd swallowed the first.

Lex watched him fondly with a small smile on his face.  Then he shifted up to lean across Clark's waist, elbow resting on the mattress by Clark's hip, cheek resting on his hand, and smiled up at him as Clark watched him get his own smaller spoonful of ice cream.  Sex didn't make him hungry like it apparently did Clark—not that there was anything that didn't seem to make Clark hungry—but Lex participated simply for the experience of sharing it with him.

Clark's gaze stayed on him as he fed himself and rolled the sweet, green stuff around on his tongue for a long time, until it melted completely so that he could practically drink it rather than eat it.

Clark leaned back more heavily into the headboard with a sigh, keeping the container of ice cream between them.  He was focussed exclusively on it when Lex leaned forward and flicked a nearly frozen tongue at Clark's flat nipple, making it tighten instantly.

Clark jumped in place and hissed.  "Ooh!  That's cold!" he exclaimed, and rubbed his empty palm over the affected nipple to generate some warmth.

Lex laughed and leaned up to kiss him.  Clark's tongue was cool and wet in his mouth, tasting of mint and chocolate, the soft spice of his own unique flavour almost, but not quite, completely lost in it.

When Lex pulled away and settled back down into the spot over Clark's waist he'd designated for his own, Clark watched him go, eyes sparkling, and lips stretched into a smile.  There was a smear of light green at one corner of his mouth and Lex left his spoon in the carton and reached up to wipe it away with a thumb.  "Messy eater," he mumbled, and sucked the pad of his thumb clean.

Clark's eyes lowered shyly, his lashes fluttering, and Lex's stomach fluttered in response.

Feeling a bit exposed at the speed with which Clark could affect him, Lex turned to press his face into Clark's arm, sighing contentedly.

There was slight movement as Clark apparently decided to go back to his ice cream.  Lex smiled, but didn't laugh.

After a little while, Clark's body stretched under him when he put the carton and spoons onto the bed table.  Lex raised his head, breathing deeply, and elongated his spine as Clark settled back against the headboard again.  "Eat all that already?"

"No," Clark looked after it, shaking his head.  "But that's all I want."  He reached toward it again.  "Did you want more?"

Lex shook his head, arm raising up lazily to abort Clark's movement.  They both went still and watched one another.  Clark smiled and Lex felt the look of it pull one out of him easily in response.

"I'm really glad you came back, Clark," he said quietly.

Clark's eyes and smile widened.  His eyebrows went up as he looked comically away.  "Yeah," he said, chuckling.  "So am I."

Lex laughed along with him, realizing that Clark was indicating the sex and the ice cream he would have missed out on if he hadn't come back.  When it faded, Lex watched him carefully until Clark shyly met his eyes again.  "It wasn't too much, was it?"

Clark shook his head, smiled.  "No," he whispered.

Lex felt his eyes grow heavier with his next blink, and knew he wasn't very long for consciousness.  He reached up and encouraged Clark to scoot down against the pillows under him.  They kissed only once before Clark's eyes darted toward the end table.  "Isn't that going to melt?"

Lex reached for the light.  "Who cares?"


*


Pete sighed, pushing his spoon through his oatmeal without enthusiasm.  His mom sat across from him, head in her hand, failing at eating her breakfast even worse than he was.

The phone rang and she hissed, tensing in place.

He wanted to kick himself for not thinking to turn the ringer off.  He sped to it, ripping it off the hook and shooting his mom an apologetic look that she never saw.  Tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes from the pain, and Pete winced at the sight of it.

"Hello?" he whispered into the receiver.

"Hi, honey, it's Mrs. Kent."

Pete froze in place, then shot a look over his shoulder.  His mother glanced up at him painfully, and he gestured he'd take the call upstairs.  She smiled weakly and waved him off.

Pete shot up the stairs as quickly as he could.

"Pete?  Are you there?"

"I'm here," he said breathlessly, shutting his bedroom door quietly behind him.

"Could I talk to Clark?"

"Uh..." Pete glanced at the clock.  It was pretty early.  He figured he could stand to make one excuse for Clark before admitting he didn't even know where the guy was.  "Actually, he's in the shower."

"Oh, okay.  Could you just tell him I called when he gets out?  No big rush, we're just wondering if we're going to see him at all to-day."

"Oh, sure!" he said pleasantly.  "Yeah, I'll mention it to him.  No problem, Mrs. Kent."

There was a full beat of silence, and he closed his eyes at himself.  Yeah, he'd probably gone a little over the top in tone there.

"O...Okay.  Are you... all right, honey?"

"Oh, yeah.  I'm fine.  Uh... coffee.  I had a couple cups of coffee.  I really shouldn't do that.  Makes me jumpy."

"Oh!  Yes.  I see.  Well... decaf, maybe?"

"Good idea.  Uh—I'll tell Clark you called."

"Thanks, Pete.  Have a nice day, sweetie."

"Yep.  You, too, Mrs. Kent.  Bye."

He clicked the phone off in a hurry and let out a tense sigh.

God!  He hated lying to Mrs. Kent!  She was always so nice to him.  The next time he saw Clark he'd better either have a damn good explanation or a damn good favour for payback.


*


Lex trailed the pads of his fingers lightly down Clark's biceps, causing goose bumps to pop up in his wake.  "What time do you have to be home?" he asked once Clark had broken their kiss.

Clark shrugged a shoulder without concern.  "It's Saturday, Lex.  I have all the time in the world."  He moved in, held Lex closer, and kissed him deeply, still tasting like an orangesicle from the juice and milk that had been served with the breakfast they'd had delivered to the door.

Clark was already hard against him, and making a sticky spot on the inside of Lex's thigh.  It felt to Lex like he was doing much the same on Clark's.

After taking so long to get to where they were, it now seemed like things were moving too fast to even blink.  Somewhere along the way, a dam had broken through, but Lex hadn't noticed it at first.  It was only now as his body was caught in the undertow and hurtling toward the brink that he realized it was time to make preparations for going over the edge.

Clark's arms were tightening around him, and he began to shift toward his left, his intention obviously being to pull Lex atop him.  Lex let go and planted his hands firmly on the bed to stop them from moving any farther.  Clark broke their kiss and let go of him, looking slightly confused at his hurried motion.

"Clark," Lex panted, and kissed him hard just once to soothe any wounded feelings.  "Sorry, but... I think we need to talk."

Clark's eyes widened and he swallowed audibly.  "Am I doing something wrong?"

"No," Lex exclaimed softly, wrapping a hand tightly around his shoulder.  "You're not doing anything wrong, Clark.  You're fantastic, don't worry about that."  He shifted up to lean on his elbow, and Clark imitated him, somewhat slower and unsure.

Lex looked down at his own fingers, which were fidgeting uncharacteristically before him.  "I was just thinking that... we should probably have a discussion about... well, the kinds of things we're... uh..."  He glanced up to meet Clark's gaze.

Clark blinked silently.

"Right.  Um...  Clark, all those months back—I mean, after that night?"

Clark nodded.  Neither of them ever used the phrase ‘that night’ to mean anything other than that night.

"Well, see, I didn't know where we were headed.  I didn't know if... it was a one-time occurrence or if it was going to lead to something more or... what you wanted.  I just didn't know.  But I have to admit that I... hoped that we were headed for where we are right now."  Lex gestured at their situation, naked in bed, legs tangled together, having just awoken from a night in one another's arms.

Clark smiled softly, lowered his eyes, then met Lex's gaze again.  Lex's heart skipped a beat.  "I was hoping the same thing, Lex."

Lex smiled back at him, and lost his train of thought for a moment.  "Yeah..."  He shook his head and breathed in sharply.  "Yeah.  Well.  Anyway, after that, I... well, I had some blood work done.  Uh, here," he reached over Clark's shoulder to the drawer behind him, and pulled out two sheets of paper.  One was dated five months ago, the other only a few weeks back.

When he proffered them, Clark took them slowly, looking confused.  At Lex's continued silence, Clark unfolded them and looked at them both.  "Lex..." he looked back and forth between the two sheets, then back at Lex, his brow still furrowed in slight perplexity.  "These look like AIDS test results."

"Uh, HIV, actually."  He reached over and pointed out the appropriate lines as he spoke them, struggling to keep his voice steady.  "HIV, syphilis, chlamydia, gonorrhea, NSU, HPV, HSV, trichomoniasis, and hepatitis."

When Clark looked at him again, his eyes were wide, and his eyebrows up.  Lex chuckled softly at the slightly weirded out look on his face.  "Yeah, I know.  It's not exactly the most romantic thing to bring up in bed, but..."

Clark shook his head and shrugged, gaze dropping to the pages again.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm okay.  I'm healthy; I don't, uh... I don't pose any danger to you, Clark."  Clark met his eyes again and kept his gaze through everything else he had to say.  "When you're ready for... that kind of thing—I mean, if you should decide you are ready—we can still use something if you want to."  Lex gestured vaguely at the drawer he'd gotten the papers out of.  "I mean, I have every brand, texture, colour, flavour and scent, so..."

He laughed quietly, and Clark joined him for only a moment, then it faded.

Lex swallowed hard.  "Anyway, I just wanted you to be aware that you didn't have anything to worry about.  Look, I'm... I'm sorry to ruin the moment with all this stuff."

"Ruin the moment?"  Clark looked back down at the test results, then folded them up the way they had been.  He shook his head slightly.  "Showing me that you care enough to... get all this done and tell me and... talk about it like this?"  He met Lex's gaze.  "I think that's incredibly romantic, Lex," he said with a shrug.  "Feels like you're making the moment, not ruining it."

While Lex blinked rapidly at the response, Clark turned and placed the folded up papers on the bed table where they unfolded themselves slightly, making a white L where they sat.  He turned back, hands empty, and spread them to show it.  "I'm sorry, but I don't have anything like that... I haven't—"

Lex smirked.  "Clark, technically, you're still a virgin."

Clark's face froze, then he laughed somewhat goofily.  "Oh, yeah.  Right."

They stared at one another until their respective smiles faded down to being only barely there.  Then Clark spread his hands again.

"Are you finished?"

Lex nodded.

"Good.  Can we get back to what we were doing now?"

Lex nodded very seriously, then cracked a smile as he moved closer.

From the way Clark kissed him, Lex thought he could actually taste gratitude.  It made his chest feel warm.


*


Chloe's phone played the most recognizable lines from the theme song to Bonanza in a tinny electronic ring.

"Hey, Clark," she said cheerily into it.

"Chloe, it's Mrs. Kent."

"Oh."  She blinked her surprise, and leaned back from her computer screen.  "Uh... what can I do for you, Mrs. Kent?"

A tense sigh came through the line.  "Well, I was going to ask if Clark was with you, but judging from the way you answered the phone, I guess the answer is no."

"Oh.  No, I'm sorry.  I haven't seen Clark all day.  Kind of a shame, too, because I could use his help with this article."  She paused.  "W-W—he's not missing or anything, is he?"

"Oh, no, no.  I'm sure he's around somewhere, I just don't know where at the moment, that's all."

"Well, if I see him, I'll be sure to tell him you're looking for him."

"Would you?  He doesn't have to come home if he's busy, I'd just like to hear from him, that's all."

"Sure, Mrs. Kent.  If he puts in an appearance, I promise it'll be the first thing out of my mouth, closely followed by, ‘Here.  Proofread this.’"

Mrs. Kent laughed quietly.  "Thanks a lot, Chloe.  If I see him first, I'll let him know you could use his help, too, okay?"

"Thanks.  Good luck."

"Bye, honey."

"Bye."

Chloe clicked the phone closed and looked at it curiously.  She just as quickly put it out of her mind.  Clark could take care of himself, and this was hardly the first time he'd gone MIA, so she just leaned forward again and threw herself back into writing her article.


*


Lex wasn't sure how he'd managed to convince Clark it wouldn't be the end of the world if Clark were on top for a while, but he was certainly hoping he'd be able to duplicate the conditions on a regular basis.

The way Clark was moving atop him now reminded him of some of their earliest moments together, when Clark would kiss him carefully and aimlessly, hands going here and there, mouth going here and there, with no apparent goal and no apparent aim but to continue doing just exactly what he was doing for hours.

There were a couple of very pleasant and very important differences this time, though.  They were both bare from head to toe, Lex had a pretty good idea what Clark's goal was even if he wasn't making it obvious, and Clark must have picked up that Lex had been enjoying the hell out of himself last night, because Clark was pumping rhythmically between Lex's thighs and against his pubic bone in precise imitation.

Lex fumbled at the bedside drawer, his eyes closed as Clark kissed him hotly and with uncommonly liberal use of tongue.  "Mmm," Lex moaned, stretching as far as he could to get his fingers into the drawer.

Clark suddenly noticed his struggle and released his mouth, watching Lex's hand seek about.  "What are you looking for?"

Lex forced himself up on his elbow and reached, finally catching the lid of bottle with his fingertips.  He pulled it out and flipped the lid open.  "Here," he said, squeezing some of the thick gel onto his fingers and rubbing his hands together to warm it up.  "What you're doing will feel a lot better with lube."

"Oh."  Clark hunched his back as Lex reached down for him, exposing himself slightly further.  He hissed when Lex's slick fingers closed around his solid erection, and whimpered when they began to stroke.

Lex watched his eyes roll back into his head.  "Do you like that?"  Clark nodded mutely, only two strips of the whites of his eyes visible.  "I can give you a small bottle of this to take home.  You can use it when you're by yourself if you want."

Clark's eyes went tightly closed, and he flushed high in his cheeks.  Lex said nothing more of it, just finished lubing Clark up and smeared what was left along his own inner thigh where Clark had been rubbing.  Then he wiped his hand on the sheets and helped Clark get his hips back into position.

At the first new, slicker slide, Clark moaned out a shuddering breath.

"It's better, isn't it?" Lex asked breathlessly.

Clark stayed still for a moment, then reached for the bottle by Lex's shoulder.

"You don't want to use too much, Clark, it'll just drip all over."

But Clark was already squeezing a little bit of it onto his own fingers.  "No, I wanna put it on you."

Lex heard his own teeth click closed and was thankful he hadn't bitten his tongue.  Then he had occasion to be thankful he didn't swallow his tongue when Clark's slippery hand started jerking him off.

Over a bit of time, Clark's thrusts increased their speed, building up a slow burn on the inside of Lex's thigh.  His strokes on Lex's cock became erratic, but still stayed firm, and he was panting open-mouthed against Lex's lips.  They were staring deeply into one another's half-open eyes when the slip happened.  Clark froze in place, his breath catching in his throat.

Clark's hand left Lex's erection and went to the mattress to help brace himself.  They both went very still, staring back and forth at one another with wide, shocked eyes.  Clark looked like he was ready to start apologizing.  Lex was just hoping he wasn't going to freak out about it.

Clark glanced down between them without moving his body, trying to see the tip of his cock pressing against Lex's perineum, but, as Lex could see when he looked, he could only make out three quarters of the shaft sticking out from under Lex's tightened scrotum.

They met one another's gaze again, silent and not breathing.

Lex was mere seconds from telling Clark that it was okay when, to his surprise, Clark rocked his hips experimentally.  Lex finally breathed, and Clark soon followed suit.  He thrust again, and then a third time, and Lex's head went back into the pillows as he moaned his approval.

But the way was slippery and Clark was inexperienced, and it wasn't long before one slightly uncontrolled thrust had Clark pushing uninvited at Lex's anus, making it tighten up in shock at the touch.

"Wait a minute—"

"I'm sorry—"

"No, it's okay."  Lex's hands were holding Clark's hips still.  His fingers began to caress there softly.  "Do you... want to do that?" he asked carefully.

Clark looked down at them, wide-eyed.  He shook his head.  "Oh, Lex, I can't do that..."

"You can, Clark.  I know you're afraid you're going to hurt me.  But you're not going to hurt me.  Because we're going to go real slow.  Just like we always do.  Okay?  You can do it.  But... do you want to do it?"

Clark's mouth was hanging open, as if he were about to speak a sentence that started with "I."  But he didn't.

"Yes."


*


Martha shook her head at her husband's questioning raise of eyebrows, her ear still against the phone.  "Right," she said into it, and listened.

Jonathan's face fell at first in disappointment, then he shook his head in a slightly incredulous way, as if he just couldn't believe Clark would do this.  Which, she supposed, was exactly how he felt at the moment.

"Okay.  Well, thanks, Lana.  You'll tell him if you see him?"

Jonathan grabbed his coat off the rack, started to put it on, then threw it in defeat over a chair.  He obviously wasn't sure where to start.

"Great.  Thanks, honey.  Okay, bye."

Martha pressed the Off button, and held the phone tightly in her hand.  "It's just not like him not to call."

Jonathan sighed harshly.  "I'm sure he's fine."  He shook his head.  "But that's what's getting on my nerves, Martha.  The boy could pick up a phone."

She finally forced herself to replace the handset on the base, afraid the moment she had let it go it would ring, and in her panic, she wouldn't be able to get it back off the hook before the person on the other end hung up.

"Jonathan, maybe you should take the truck and drive out to the caves.  Maybe he's out there again."

"I seem to remember suggesting quite clearly that Clark steer clear of that place."

"Which is why he might be there and hasn't called," she shot back wryly.

Her husband's eyes gave into the logic slowly, and he finally looked away, a self-deprecating grin pulling at one corner of his mouth.  He began to put his jacket back on.

"I swear, if I find him standing around in there, staring at those Kawatche pictographs—"

"Go easy on him, Jonathan.  Remember, as far as Clark is concerned, those caves are one of the very few connections he has to where he came from."

He was jerking the collar of his jacket down, and let it go, sighing.  "I know, Martha...  I know."

She walked over to him and acted like she was going to straighten his jacket out, then just held on to it.  "Go check and hurry back, okay?  I'll be on pins and needles."  He nodded, and she pulled him down for a firm kiss, then let him go.

With a sheepish, almost shy smile, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

She stood still for a moment in the middle of the kitchen, worrying.  Then she shook her head at herself.  She was sure Clark was fine.  There was nothing wrong, it was just that something had his attention and he would call as soon as he could get away.  He was probably doing something heroic and good: Saving a life, helping a friend, stopping corruption where he found it.  That was her baby...

It just wasn't like him not to call.


*


Clark's lubed fingers rubbed in gentle little circles around Lex's opening.  He went at his own slow, soft pace, following the direction Lex had given him.

His gaze kept dropping down between them at Lex's parted legs, and every time he looked, his expression was more and more yearning.  He finally voiced his thoughts only a few seconds before Lex was going to ask him what it was he wanted.

"Can I see?" he asked in such a low whisper, Lex had to struggle for a second to make out what the words had been.

When he did, he bent his legs up, leaving room for Clark to get broad shoulders between them.  "Of course," he said easily.  He ran his fingers through Clark's hair, feeling unreasonably soft-hearted at the whispered request.

It took Clark several false starts before he managed to slide himself down between Lex's open legs.  He was red-faced and breathing hard by the time he got there, and it seemed to be a real struggle for him to raise his eyes up to look at where he'd been touching all this time.

When he finally did, his breath came out in a long, drawn out sigh, and Lex felt the warm air puff over some of his most sensitive places.

"Oh, god, Lex..." he whispered, and Lex's eyes rolled back into his head.  "It's just so small.  I don't see how this isn't going to hurt."

The corner of Lex's mouth turned up in amusement.  "It stretches, Clark.  Believe me."  He pulled his legs back a little farther.  "Why don't you try to put a finger inside?  You'll see what I mean."

Clark met his gaze more boldly than Lex would have thought he could.  "Just... push it in?"

Lex tilted his head in agreement, smiling a little.  "Just push it in."

Focussing back on what he saw in front of him, Clark seemed to hold his breath as he tried tentatively to push the tip of his finger inside.

It didn't go at first.  Lex bore down, and exhaled steadily.

The tip of Clark's finger slid in.  "All of it, Clark."  Lex's voice had grown gruff, and was a bit of a surprise to his own ears.

Clark took an audible breath and pushed his index finger the rest of the way inside.  Lex grunted softly.

"It doesn't hurt?"

"No," Lex panted.  He let his head lay on the pillow for a second as he caught his breath, then lazily raised a hand over his belly.  He gestured at Clark to ‘come here.’  "Go like this."

Carefully, Clark did.  Lex cried out.  After a pause, Clark did it again, and Lex responded much the same way.

"Is that your prostate I'm hitting?"

Lex swallowed against a dry tongue and nodded jerkily.  "Yeah, um...  Feel around.  Can you feel how that spot is a little harder?  Maybe feels just a little bit swollen?  Like a small bump?"

Clark digit squirmed around inside him, feeling along his rectal walls.  There was silence for a few seconds, and Lex looked down at him.  Clark was biting his bottom lip, obviously concentrating, and somehow that struck Lex as incredibly endearing.

Finally, he looked up and caught Lex's gaze.  "Um..." he shook his head.  "No, not really."

Lex smiled.  "That's okay.  It's pretty subtle.  But above where your fingertip is right now, that's where it is."

"That's where it feels the best?"

He nodded.  "Yeah."  He grabbed the bottle of lubricant off the sheets beside him and proffered it to Clark.  "Why don't you get some more of this and try two?"

Apparently eager for instruction, Clark took the bottle and exited Lex's body very slowly.  He squeezed some more gel onto his fingers and spread it around.  "Should I push them in one at a time?" he asked before he did anything.

Lex showed Clark his own fingers, the index nail on top of the middle finger's pad.  "Both at the same time, but hold them like this."

Clark studied Lex's fingers a bit, then stared at his own and imitated him.  "Like that?"

"Yeah."  Lex laid back and closed his eyes, concentrating on relaxing his sphincter muscle.

Without much trouble, Clark carefully pressed his fingers in up to the first knuckle.  "All the way in?"

"All the way in."  They pushed the rest of the way inside with a long, smooth, slick stroke that didn't trip.  "Good."  It came out broken and slightly higher than he would have liked.

Lex opened his eyes wide, trying to blink them clear.  It was starting to get difficult to keep up the lesson and deal with the sensations the lesson produced at the same time.  "Now try to move them.  Open and close them like this," Lex scissored his own fingers in the air, "and just sort of wiggle them around inside."

Clark carefully took up a flexing inside him, stretching his rectum gently.  "Like this?"

"That's good, Clark... god, that's really good."  His knuckles brushed Lex's prostate several times as he moved his fingers around aimlessly.  Lex tensed up and caught his breath every time it happened.

Eventually, Clark must have picked up on that, because now he seemed to be aiming for it.

Lex set to clenching rhythmically at Clark's fingers, trying to remember how to use the proper muscles.  But now Clark was motioning ‘come here’ inside him over and over and over again with both digits, and Lex had begun to lose the ability to concentrate on anything.

He heard himself making choked sounds, and became aware that he was squirming around in the sheets like a worm on a hook.  The lesson was forgotten, the controlled working of his rectal muscles was forgotten, dignity was forgotten, Lex just started moaning loud and regular, rocking his hips in time with Clark's pushing on his prostate.

There was a tight, hard throb in his balls, and Lex's stomach muscles tightened as he shot halfway to a sitting position and grabbed Clark's wrist hard.  "Stop," he demanded shortly.  "You have to stop or I'm gonna come."

"...Sorry."

Lex laughed somewhat ridiculously, then curbed it and sobered all at once.  He tried to swallow against a dry throat.  "Clark," he started breathlessly.  "Clark, I'm not going to lie to you: I want you inside me so badly right now, I don't think I'm above begging for it.  But if you're not ready... please just tell me now."

Clark smiled, softly at first, then it grew.  "Why else am I doing this, Lex?" he asked, almost teasing.  Then his smile faded and he nodded seriously.  "I wanna do it for real.  Now?  Is it time now?"

A beat filled to the brim with tense promise went by before Lex nodded.  "Yeah, Clark," he whispered.  "Now."

Careful as always, Clark took his fingers back.  It wasn't until he got to his knees and shuffled forward that Lex had any idea what this particular lesson had done to Clark.

He'd grown hard as stone resting there against the mattress.  The head of his cock was reaching out far, far past the blood engorged foreskin, and precum was literally dripping down the shaft.  Clark was very obviously extremely aroused.

Unable to rip his eyes from that display of desire, Lex moaned quietly and rested back into the pillows.  He could see Clark's fingers shaking as he applied more lube to himself.

"Preparation or no preparation, Clark, I need you to go slow at first," Lex cautioned.  "I haven't done this in a very long time."

"I'm gonna go slow, Lex.  I don't want to hurt you."

Clark got into a tenuous position, hovering over him, and Lex's hands curled tightly around his shoulders, but Lex wasn't sure which of them he was trying to steady.

He watched as Clark took himself in hand at the root and moved forward.  Lex tensed up involuntarily at the size of the thing coming for him, then ripped his eyes away and focussed on Clark's face, which was tensed up just as tight in careful, pained concentration.

Lex almost jumped at the first sticky shock of contact between the cleft of his ass and the tip of Clark's erection, but managed to control himself.  He tried to concentrate on his breathing, readying himself for the burning, stretching sensation he remembered.  But Clark didn't know what he was doing.  Moving so gently and so carefully, all he was achieving was sliding himself around Lex's slippery skin.

Lex exhaled slowly, willing himself to relax, and reached down to steady him.  "Hold it tight," he said, showing by example, placing his hand where he wanted Clark's to be.  "Right under the head, like that."  He let go as Clark moved to follow his instruction.  "You have to keep it still to get it started."

Clark seemed to be clenching down on himself unreasonably hard, his knuckles going white.  Lex wanted to tell him he didn't have to throttle himself, but remained silent, figuring Clark wasn't going to consciously injure himself, either.

As Clark slid forward again, Lex hitched his hips up a little to make the angle more natural and, hence, entry more attainable.  There was a quick, distinct sensation of breach and then, with an agonizingly slow pressure, Clark took nearly a minute to get the head in.

Lex's hand flew to Clark's sternum when he felt the corona pass.  "Wait a minute.  Hold on."  He tried to breathe, feeling very close to uncomfortably stretched.  His anus was clenching down spastically, beyond his control, and it wasn't an altogether pleasant sensation.

He felt heartened, though.  The head was always the most difficult part.  When he felt he'd caught his breath, he slid his hand up over Clark's shoulder and down his arm.  "All right."

"Keep going?"

Lex nodded.

Clark pushed forward very slightly, and began to rock his hips in tiny little motions.  He let go of himself and planted his hands on either side of Lex's torso.  The muscles in his arms went rigid and rock solid as he took all of his weight on them and looked down, very obviously concentrating on his small thrusts.

Lex winced, his lip curling as he tried to bear the slight pain.  It wouldn't have been so bad, but it was getting drawn out as Clark took his time getting all the way in.  Lex tapped at his arm with a damp hand, making a wet slapping sound.  "Don't go slow anymore," he ground out.  "Just push it in all at once.  Like ripping off a Band-Aid.  All right?"

"But... are you sure that's not going to hurt?"

"It'll hurt less, Clark, trust me."

"I do."

Lex was looking down between them when Clark said it, so it took a moment to register.  When it did, his eyes snapped up to find Clark gazing at him steadily.  Lex melted inside.  He swallowed hard against showing it.  "All at once, okay?" he said gruffly.  "No screwin’ around; do it fast."

"Okay."  Clark took a couple quick breaths, gearing up.  "Okay."

All at once he slammed in to the hilt.

Lex cried out.  He gripped hard at Clark's back, fingers digging deeply into the flesh as Clark ended up sprawled atop him.  "God!  Don't move!  Just don't move."

"Ok-ay."  The word was choked off, sounding like a sob.

Trembling hands came down off Clark's back to push his hair back from his face where it was clinging, and try to get him out of Lex's neck, so he could see.  "Are you all right?" Lex asked, sounding choked himself.

Clark seemed to have to struggle to lean up enough so Lex could see him.  His face and neck were bright red down to his collarbones.  It wasn't from embarrassment or flushed with passion.  It looked like sunburn.  He looked red from strain.

"Clark?"

"God!  It's really tight in there, Lex," he ground out through clenched teeth.

Lex was very suddenly very ridiculously happy that he hadn't done anything like this in years.  The shock of sudden entry had passed quickly, and he felt at least partially adjusted to Clark's size.  He offered a small smile.  "You can start moving if you want.  Just go slow at first."

Lex wasn't certain, but had to assume that the next few seconds of Clark jerking in place was him trying to get his hips going and not being able to coordinate them.  He finally raised part of the way up on his knees and was able to begin a very erratic rhythm.  It was still slow, just unordered.  "Does that hurt?" he asked with a choked voice.

There was a burn, but it was fading.  And by lucky happenstance, Clark kept brushing across Lex's prostate on what Lex had decided to designate his outstroke.  "No, it's good."  He paused for a moment, eyes shifting as he focussed internally—on the changing sensations inside of him.  The burn was fading even farther into a warm, pleasant heat, and shocks of pleasure from his prostate were getting slowly but surely more defined.  "Ohh... yeah, it's good, Clark.  You can speed up."

Clark shook his head jerkily, his sweat-wet hair dripping onto Lex's shoulder.  "No, I can't," he sobbed.

Lex reached up to take Clark's face in his hands.  He tried to meet Clark's eyes, but they kept rolling around in his head, focussing on nothing.  "Hey, don't hold back.  It's okay.  Just let go... just let go, Clark."

There was a hesitation, as if Clark's body was arguing with Lex even before Clark had voiced it.

Then a sound came out of his throat—a wordless sound, like a moaning animal, and he took up short little pumps that made the mattress shake.  His rigid but shaking arms collapsed under him by Lex's sides, so that he was leaning forward on his forearms, his chin digging into the soft, fleshy part of Lex's left shoulder.  Then he let out a loud, drawn out yell right next to Lex's ear, threatening to deafen him, shoved back in to the hilt, and came with a full-body tremble that gave Lex goose flesh all over.

He laid there, still finally, face pushed into the crook of Lex's neck, panting and shuddering and sobbing.  "Lex.  Oh, god, Lex.  Oh, wow.  Oh, wow," he moaned hurriedly.

Lex petted at Clark's hair gently as he came down, pushing damp strands out of his eyes and back off his forehead.  He turned to place soft kisses where he could reach: On Clark's temple, his cheek, his ear, the strong angle of his jaw, the racing thrum of a pulse point.

Clark's breathing was still uneven and shuddering, but it was beginning to slow just a little.  As it did, his mutterings stopped mid-word, then switched gears violently.  "Oh, god, I'm so sorry...  Oh, god.  I'm sorry, Lex.  I—"

"Shh, shh-shh-shh," Lex shushed against the shell of his ear.  "Clark, believe me, you lasted longer than I thought you would."  It was true.  From the sight of Clark's leaking cock when he'd first approached, Lex honestly hadn't thought Clark would be able to get all the way inside him before he shot his load.

Clark seemed to still, getting back to the business of coming down to Earth.  He was still buried deeply in Lex's body, and Lex could feel his prostate throbbing inside him in impatience.  His balls began to ache.  He struggled to not shift around for sensation.

Clark's breathing began to steady after some time, and Lex knew he was truly back to himself when he finally ran his hands softly up Lex's arms.  At length, his hips started up those little circles he seemed to be so fond of.  "What if I... Is it okay if I keep...?"

With a shock of sensation, Lex realized Clark was hardening inside him.  He'd only gone down the slightest bit, and already seemed ready to go again.  "Yeah," Lex said, hearing the bewilderment in his voice.

Clark sniffed a few times as if his nose was running, then pulled just slightly away to have more control over his hip movement.  He moved slowly, as expected, but seemed to have more control over his muscles now.  After a short time, he'd built up a real rhythm that was even and steady.  "Is that okay?"

Lex's hips were already rocking in time.  "That feels great, Clark," he whispered, and ran his hands up Clark's arms, tensed hard as granite again, to massage lightly at his thickly muscled shoulders.  "God, you're strong..."

Clark made a small sound above him, staring unblinkingly at his lips as he hovered there.  Lex let the silence permeate for a few minutes as Clark rocked against him and Lex felt over the cords and muscles in his arms with studious fascination.

"Clark..." he started finally.  "Could you pick me up?"

"Hm?"

"Clark."

Clark wrenched his stare away from Lex's lips to meet his gaze.  "Huh?"

"Do you think you could pick me up?"

Clark looked down and around, as if he'd be able to find further explanation just by taking in the position of Lex's body.  "How do you mean?"

"Can you pick me up so that I'm on your lap while we do this?"

"Oh."  Clark's arms tensed tighter, which hadn't actually seemed possible, then went more relaxed as he started sliding them under Lex's back.  "Yeah, I think so."

Lex tapped encouragingly at Clark's hamstrings, getting him to shuffle forward a little so that the tops of his thighs started wedging Lex's hips up.  Then, with a smooth pull and slide, Clark hefted him into the air and, without breaking their connection, Lex found himself perched on Clark's lap, his weight making the pressure inside him slip as deeply as possible.

Lex started in mild surprise even while he groaned at the more filling sensation.  It took a great deal of controlled strength to lift a one hundred and seventy pound man into the air gracefully without even a grunt of exertion.  He wasn't surprised that Clark had it, just that he'd show it.

He forgot about it for a little while when Clark wrapped him up ever tighter in his arms and began to pump his hips upwards, burying himself deeper and deeper into Lex's body.  "Like this?" he asked, panting against Lex's shoulder.

Lex was suddenly short of breath himself.  He squeezed his legs down tight on Clark's waist.  "Yeah, just like this, Clark."

Lex was so fully atop him that Clark actually couldn't get very much in-and-out motion going by pumping his hips.  And from his position, Lex couldn't do much to help.  "Can you lean forward a little?"

Clark did.  He leaned forward more than a little.

Lex gasped, expecting to fall.  Immediately after, he realized that all of his weight—all of his weight—was on Clark's arms around his back.  Clark was leaning forward at almost a forty-five degree tilt, suspending him there, the motion of his hips having never stopped.

Lex's legs were wrapped around Clark's waist and hooked at the ankles, but there was no pressure on them at all.  He looked quickly with wide eyes to the left and right of him, assuring himself that what he was feeling was no illusion.

What Clark was doing was impossible.

Clark was moaning quietly and repeatedly, his face pressed against Lex's shoulder as he thrust up into him.  He didn't seem to notice anything odd had happened.

Lex almost wanted to say something, almost wanted to call him on it.  Then he had a flash of intense desire to simply let himself go, hang there, and enjoy it.

But when he thought of the look that would invariably set in Clark's eyes once he realized he'd completely given himself away with a sexual manoeuvre, and the resultant lack of other sexual manoeuvres Lex might find himself on the receiving end of, Lex was able to make a very simple decision.  "Clark," he said, wrapping his arms tightly around Clark's back as if to hold himself up.  "Put me back down, okay?"

With the same smooth, controlled moves, Clark laid him back onto the pillows.  He didn't lower him most of the way, then drop him onto his back, making the bed shake.  No, he laid him down as easily as if he was laying herbs on a drying rack.  The only trembling that occurred was in his fingers when he ran them gently behind Lex's neck and down over a temple.  "I'm not hurting you, right?"

Lex shook his head.  "You're not hurting me, Clark."  He pushed Clark's damp hair out of his eyes where it kept falling, then let his fingers stay buried in its clinging wetness, and pulled Clark's mouth to his own.

When Clark tried to participate in the kiss, his hips’ rhythm stuttered. When he got that back, his tongue went still in his mouth.  He couldn't concentrate on both at the same time.

Lex freed his lips with one last soft peck, and stared into his eyes while Clark hovered above him, panting.  "Do you want something else?" Clark asked quietly, looking embarrassed to say it.

"You could sit up," Lex offered without hesitation.

Clark began to wrap his arms around Lex's back again, looking mildly confused.  Lex stopped him with a hand on each biceps.  "No, not both of us.  Just you."  He placed a palm flat over Clark's heart.  "Just sit up some by yourself."

"Oh."  Clark gave the impression of nearly scrambling to do what Lex asked of him, rising to an acute angle.

Lex pushed lightly at his sternum.  "A little farther," he encouraged gently.  "Sit back on your haunches."

Clark's knees shuffled forward, getting them under himself and, at the same time, partly under Lex's thighs, hitching them up and taking some of the strain off.  Then he sat up fully until the two of them made an L on the bed.

One tentative thrust, and Lex yelled out on cue.

Clark went still.  He looked on the verge of asking a question, then seemed to suddenly get distracted.  His eyes went wide as he looked over Lex's exposed body under him.  A blush raced over his cheeks and crept down his chest.

Lex figured it was the most blatant position they'd been in thus far.  "Keep moving," he said softly.

Clark's hips started rotating as suddenly as if someone had wound him up and let him go.  That was the exact moment Lex realized what was so great about those tiny little circles.

His hands shot forward to grab at Clark's knees resting on either side of him as he cried out.  "Oh god, Clark!"

"There?  Am I hitting it?"

Lex's back arched, helping him bear down on Clark's flesh swirling inside him.  "Jesus, yes!  Oh my god, Clark... I've never seen a guy move his hips like that," Lex breathed.  "You must be an incredible dancer."

Clark flushed more fully and shook his head with a sheepish smile.  "Uh... No, not really."

Lex wasn't really listening.  Clark's hands had slipped under his hips, and he was being held just slightly up off the bed, making for more direct contact on his prostate as Clark rotated his hips in such an unconsciously dirty, sleazy way, it was probably illegal in most states and every Canadian province.  And what's more, he didn't seem to have the slightest idea what effect he was having.

He simply watched Lex's face carefully, wide-eyed, as if judging his every move by the expression that greeted it.  Lex could only assume that Clark hadn't stopped what he was doing simply because Lex had no control over the shocked pleasure that had been on his face since Clark had started churning his hips like that.

Lex began to claw uncontrollably at the tops of Clark's legs.  He twisted on the bed, wanting at once to get closer to and away from the stimulation inside him.  It was building to a crescendo that made him want to scream at the top of his lungs.

Clark's rhythm hitched—an accident—then the quick, small circles started again, and the slight adjustment felt like an electric shock inside.  Lex's head thrashed about on the pillow.  He lost all sense of time, space, and propriety.

His hand raced to his own cock, only to be batted away the second it made contact, and replaced with Clark's larger and, paradoxically, softer one.  Lex thrust into it jerkily.  "Faster," he ground out.

"Which?"

"Both!"

Lex watched through barely open eyes as Clark's hips sped up.  It was like he was double jointed all over.  The jacking of Lex's leaking cock got fast enough that he could hear it, and he felt himself grip Clark's legs so tightly with his fingernails that he must have drawn blood.

"Ohhhh—fuck!"  He finally did scream.

The orgasm was almost too much to handle, intense enough to be deemed a punishment.  Relief only washed through once it had passed.  His spine slackened and he crashed back onto the bed.

Clark's hips churned slowly to a stop, and he handled Lex's cock in long, squeezing strokes from root to tip, as if to help the last of the semen find its way out.  It felt good at first, but Clark did it just one time too many.  Lex grabbed his wrist tight, making a hissing sound as he sucked air in through his teeth.  "That's enough."

Clark let him go without hesitation, his hand racing back to cup Lex's hip again.  Lex's hand thumped numbly onto the mattress.

There was silence in the room but for Lex's haggard breathing.

"Do you... want me to stop now?" Clark finally asked, his tone careful.

"No," Lex replied automatically, then rushed to amend it.  "I mean, yeah—for a minute.  Just hold on for a minute."

"Okay."

Clark's fingers fidgeted against his skin.  Lex had to struggle to open his eyes and see what the problem was.  Clark was still sitting back on his folded legs, biting at his bottom lip.  He started when he saw Lex was watching him.

"Oh.  Can... can I...?"  He gestured vaguely with his hands up Lex's body, indicating he wanted to lie down atop him.

Lex motioned him to ‘come here’ with both hands still resting on the mattress.  "Yeah, of course.  Lie down."

With a small, grateful smile, Clark slid up over him and lay down, cock still buried deeply in Lex's body.  Clark's arms hooked up underneath his, and his face rested gently in the crook of Lex's shoulder.  He stayed still and quiet—almost noninvasive—as Lex came down from his high.

"I'm okay, Clark," Lex said after some time.  "If you want to keep going."

Clark inhaled deep and slow, and shook his head against Lex's neck.  "Nn-nn," he muttered.  He reached down to steady himself as he slid out, pulling a grunt from Lex's chest.

"Are you sure?"  He'd felt that Clark was softening inside him, but Lex was sure he hadn't come again.

"Yeah," Clark breathed, and settled his weight carefully atop Lex's body, taking most of it on his own hip between Lex's thighs.  He pressed a few close-mouthed, dry kisses on Lex's sweaty neck, then lay still for a long while, just cuddling him.

Lex ran still partially numb fingers through Clark's hair and over his neck and upper back for a minute or two before finally wrapping him up in a loose hug and falling still himself.

"I'm real sleepy all of a sudden," Clark murmured against his neck.

Lex chuckled lazily, eyes almost closed.  "Hm."

"Are you sleepy?"

"Mm-hm."

Clark hummed happily and finally shifted his head on the pillow to meet Lex's eyes.  Lex could only imagine that his own were even more glazed and heavy-lidded than Clark's were.

Clark smiled, slow and sweet, pulling an answering one out of Lex, and brushed a soft kiss over Lex's lips.

Lex wasn't positive, but it seemed to him that they both lost the ability to keep their eyes open at the exact same time.


*


The screen door slammed closed and Martha came running in from the living room.  "Clark?"

"It's me, Martha."

Jonathan was taking his jacket off and throwing it over a chair.  "He wasn't there.  I stopped by the Talon on the way back to see if he'd stopped by since we called, but no luck there, either."

"I called Pete again.  He said he remembers Clark saying he had some things he had to do when he left, but didn't mention what they were.  He seemed to think we shouldn't worry."

"Well, that's nice of Pete to say, Martha.  But if you ask me, he still looks up to Clark like some kind of a super-human.  I don't think he fully grasps how vulnerable Clark can be sometimes, powers or not."

"God, I wouldn't be so worried if he'd just call!  I thought he'd be at Pete's half the day playing that new game, but if he left there at eight, Jonathan..." she glanced toward the clock, hour hand creeping toward two.

"Someone has to have seen him.  Did you try Lex's again?"

Martha opened her arms in a gesture of helplessness.  "I got the same girl.  They still haven't seen either of them.  I left another message."

"Well, I doubt he'll go to Lex's before he comes home," Jonathan said wryly.

She shrugged.  "I really couldn't care less—just so I know where he is and that he's safe."

"He's all right, Martha.  I know it."

"No, you don't, Jonathan.  No, you don't.  Oh, but I hope you're right!"  She crossed to him with small, close steps, and buried her face in his chest as he wrapped strong, gentle arms around her.


*


Lex slowly and lazily opened his eyes to the sight of Clark grinning madly before him.  He snorted softly at the unexpected vision.  "Hey, Clark," he said, voice thick with sleep.

"Hey."  It was practically a laugh instead of a word.

"And you're grinning like the Cheshire Cat because...?"

"Lex?"

"Hm?"

"That was definitely... positively... and without a doubt... sex."  Lex laughed softly.  "I don't care where you're from, or who you are, or what kind of messed up, whacked out society you live in—that was sex.  Wow."

Lex laughed again and shifted a little.  His right leg was asleep from just a little too much of Clark's weight resting on it.

Clark picked up on the shift with immediacy.  "Oh, sorry."  He turned them onto their sides and Lex's leg began to tingle with new circulation.  Clark took in and let out a very deep, satisfied breath.  "That was amazing..." he said, his eyes wide.  "Is it always like that?"

Lex lazily rolled a shoulder.  "It's always different," he murmured.

"Hm."  Clark was still smiling like he'd never stop.

"Although," Lex continued thoughtfully, "I've been told that after about ten years of marriage, it's always the same."  Clark snickered.  "But that's just hearsay."

Clark shook his head gently.  His eyes sparkled with opulent satiation.  "I don't think I'd mind if it was always the same," he breathed.  "That was really incredible."

Lex's smile widened for a moment, then softened again.  He indulged himself, letting his gaze wander Clark's face, feeling the tenderness in his own eyes, and not trying to stop it.  It didn't feel like he needed to: Clark's were mirroring it back at him.

There was a beautiful moment of stillness: A moment that felt filled to bursting with expectation and possibility, but Lex didn't know of or for what.  He just knew that it was lovely, that it was memorable, and that its silence seemed to be enough.

Lex's gaze was soft and undemanding by design, but he started to feel that if he held it just one moment longer, it would become an all-out stare, and he didn't want to stare.  He let his eyelids droop with lethargy.

The silence stretched, became somewhat tenuous, and Lex's brow tightened as he wondered why it had changed.  When he realized it was because Clark had stopped breathing, he slid his eyes back open only enough to see.

Clark was still watching him.  His eyes had widened, his smile faded.

"Okay?"

Clark swallowed.  It sounded dry.  "Lex, I—..."

"...What is it, Clark?"

"I—... I, um..."

Whatever it was, he either lost his grasp on it or changed his mind.  He burst out with a sudden nervous chuckle, and shoved his face against Lex's neck, wrapping him up in a close, tight hug.

Startled at first, Lex fell into line rather swiftly and wrapped Clark up in turn.  He sighed with contentment as Clark made a warm spot of moist exhales against his skin.

After nearly a minute, Clark's voice rose up to him in a small, hesitant timbre.  "We're going to do this a lot from now on, right?"  He actually sounded as if he wasn't sure of the answer.

"Of course," Lex said, brow tightening only slightly for a moment with consternation.  Did Clark honestly need to ask?  "We're going to do this whenever you want, Clark.  Haven't I made it clear how much I enjoyed that?" he finished, feeling a smirk tug at a corner of his mouth.

Clark chuckled very softly.  "Do you wanna do it again?"

Lex smiled.  "Name the time and place, Clark."

"Do... you wanna do it again right now?"

Lex's eyes popped open.  "Right now?"

Clark's shoulders shifted in his arms as he shrugged an answer.  "Y-Yeah."

"Uh..."  Lex blinked a few times, shook his head once rapidly to clear it.  "I—I can't, Clark.  Not right now.  I'm a little too sore to do it again right now."

Clark pulled away from him with a jarring suddenness, and was staring down at him with wide, worried eyes.  "You said it didn't hurt!" he exclaimed, sounding half terrified and half betrayed.

"It didn't," Lex rushed, trying to soothe.  "It didn't hurt, Clark.  It's just muscle soreness.  Aren't your muscles tired?"

Clark swallowed.  His eyes were still wide, but he seemed somewhat assuaged.  "Um... I don't know.  Not... not really, I guess."

Lex quirked an eyebrow.  "Hm.  Maybe I'm getting old."

Clark snorted loudly, and the satiation and happiness found their way back onto his face.  He rested in the pillows again, looking into Lex's eyes.  Lex wrapped him back up in his arms.

Clark smiled sweetly for a long beat before his lips pressed together slightly.  "I wonder what time it is."

"Probably about time for you to start thinking about getting your butt home," Lex answered without hesitation.

Clark winced.  "Yeah...  I don't want to go, though."

Lex's smile grew, his eyes drooped a little farther.  "I don't want you to go either, Clark," he murmured.

"Hm.  Hey, Lex?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we do it again next time I come over?"

Lex's laugh burst through closed lips.  "And when is that?"

"Tuesday after school, if you're not busy."

"I'll clear my schedule and put fresh sheets on the bed," he said dryly.

"Why bother?" Clark asked seriously.  "We're just going to mess them up anyway."

Lex had to laugh out loud.  "You make a very good point, Clark.  A very good point."  He was still smiling when Clark kissed him, sweet, but deep, as if he was stocking up for later.

"Mmm," Clark hummed as he pulled away.  "I'd really better go."

"I know."  Lex pecked him on the lips once more, then trailed a few kisses along his cheek, found a place in Clark's neck to lay his head, and squeezed him tight.  Then he let go most of the way.

"Tuesday?" Clark asked.

Lex nodded once with surety.  "Tuesday."

Clark smiled for a beat, then rolled away, out of the bed, and got to his feet.  Lex watched, waiting for his knees to go out on him, but they never did.  He stood tall and steady, looking unashamed about his nakedness and the mess on his stomach that had smeared between them as they slept.

He was looking around, turning in a circle, glancing under the bed, and looking mildly confused.

"You pushed them down there."  Lex pointed toward the foot of the bed.

"Oh, right."

Clark pulled out the last bit of the sheet that was still tucked under the edge of the mattress and his boxer shorts popped out and fell onto the floor.  He snatched them up and stepped into them.

Lex watched him with heavy, lazy eyes as he found each piece of clothing and got himself dressed.  Most of it was in a puddle on the floor by the side of the bed Lex had decided to designate Clark's.

When the last boot was pulled on and the ties double knotted, Clark crawled forward to kiss him once more.  Lex breathed in the strong, heady smell of the two of them that filled the room and emanated from Clark's still flushed skin.  "You know," he said gently when their kiss was broken, "you might consider taking a shower before you go home, Clark."  He cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow to get across his meaning.

Clark shook his head.  "Better not.  Folks would be able to tell and wonder why and where...  I'll just run up and take one as soon as I get home."

"Well, do it before you get too close to anyone, would you?"

Clark laughed quietly and stood up.  Lex struggled not to giggle without dignity at the silly sight of him.  "At least do me a favour and stop by a mirror to fix your hair, all right?"

Clark ran a hand through it.  "Is it a mess?"

Lex cracked a wide grin.  "It's standing straight up on your head, Clark."

Clark smiled sheepishly, tousling his hair back and forth as if that had any chance of actually teasing it back down.  "Okay," he mumbled, still patting at it.  He glanced around, and crossed to the vanity, scraping it down with blunt fingernails.  After a minute or two, it wasn't perfect, but it was at least flatter.  "Think that'll do?"

"Sure," Lex said with a shrug.  He turned onto his back and clasped his hands behind his head on the pillow.  "If anyone asks about it, just tell them you were exerting yourself," he said slyly, and winked.

Clark blushed.  Such an easy response to get, and yet still such a satisfying one.  Lex chuckled smugly.  Clark narrowed his eyes, but was smiling.

He crossed the room one last time, laid one last mock-hard kiss on Lex's lips, and smiled down at him one last time.  Until Tuesday.

"See ya," Clark said throatily.

"See ya, Clark.  Feel free to demand to be put up any time."

After a quick quirk up of his eyebrows, Clark finally turned and left the room.  He glanced back coyly before he shut the door, making butterflies flit around in Lex's belly.

Lex sighed and stretched, but cut it off halfway through in deference to the aches in his legs and ass.  "Ohh-ho... ow," he mumbled through a chuckle.  This was definitely the good kind of pain.  This was the kind of pain that reminded you you'd done something very, very enjoyable to deserve it.


*


Clark shut the door quietly behind him, not quite able to keep Lex's gaze till the last minute.  Lex's eyes were like orbs of pure, scathing desire reaching out for him, and he was afraid they'd pull him right back into that bed and his folks would end up having to call out a rescue squad after a few days.

He tip-toed carefully down the few stone steps that led up to Lex's bedroom as if it were the tower Rapunzel was imprisoned in.  He wasn't sure why he felt a need to be so quiet, like he thought Lex was trying to sleep, but he did.  He took in a startled gasp when he almost ran into a pretty young blonde coming down the hall as he exited the stair corridor.

"Oh, I'm sorry."  He steadied her at the arms.

She blinked up at him in surprise.  She was short and had big, round eyes that made her look like a startled rabbit.  "Oh, Mr. Kent."

Clark wondered how the people who worked here could know who he was before he even met them.  He opened his mouth to introduce himself, but she beat him to it, her words coming so fast, they almost sounded run together.

"I didn't realize—  Your parents called for you, sir.  They—"

"Oh, that's all right," he interrupted.  "I'm going home right now."

She nodded once, eyes still wide.

"Um... you... you didn't tell them I was here, right?"

She shook her head, ponytail bouncing behind her.  "I didn't know you were here, sir."

"Oh.  Oh, good.  Well, if they call again, just tell them I stopped by, but I'm on my way home."

As she nodded again, Clark turned at the sound of Lex's bedroom door coming open.  Lex looked mildly surprised and confused to see him still standing there, and he padded down the stairs in nothing but a pair of silky blue pyjama bottoms.  "Clark?" he asked softly.

Clark looked back at the girl, whose eyes had grown even wider, which hadn't seemed possible.  She began looking very rapidly back and forth between he and Lex.  She went from rabbit-like to deer-like.

Lex watched her carefully.  "Marcia?"

Clark was glad to finally have the girl's name, but started to get incredibly nervous when she was too stunned to even respond.

"Marcia," Lex said with a little more force.

"Oh—" burst out of her when she started.  "Mr. Luthor?" she asked in a high voice.

"Are you all right, Marcia?" he asked, very slowly and very clearly.

"I'm... Yes, sir.  I'm sorry.  I—I... I don't..."

Lex's spine seemed to straighten a little.  Clark was not breathing.  "Marcia," Lex said stonily.

"...Sir?"

He paused, and the silence stretched out, sounding dangerous.  Clark tried to swallow, but couldn't.  "Discretion is the better part of valour," Lex quoted seriously.  "And steady employment."

Clark's eyes widened and shifted back to the girl.

She swallowed, her shoulders moving with the effort, and nodded, slowly at first, then vigorously.  "Yes, sir.  I understand.  Please... forgive the intrusion."

Lex gave one slow nod as if to allow her dismissal.

She turned and all but fled down the hall and around the corner.

Clark throat was tight with fear.  He tried to remember how to inhale.  "Lex...?"

Lex's hands wrapped around Clark's biceps, turning him to meet his eyes.  "I'll have a talk with her, Clark," he said softly, seeming unconcerned.  "Don't worry about it."

"But what if she—?"

"Clark," Lex interrupted.  "I can take care of my staff.  Trust me."

Clark swallowed, and exhaled slowly and audibly.  He felt his spine relax and smiled just the smallest bit.  "I do," he said.

Lex's eyelids fluttered as if his eyes were trying to roll back into his head.  "Good," he said quietly.  "Now, go on," he squeezed Clark's shoulders and let him go, "get out of here before I drag you back into that bed against my own best intentions."

Clark smirked, thinking pretty much the exact same thing.  He laid one last quick kiss on Lex's lips and took off at a good clip down the hall Marcia hadn't used.  It was very difficult, but he did manage to not look back.


*


For once, Clark didn't feel like speeding just as fast as he could go.  He felt like taking a long, slow walk in the unusually warm spring afternoon weather and really noticing the intricacies of everything he passed.  He felt like opening his eyes as wide as they could go, and looking around himself with a studious attention to detail.  Surely everything was brighter now.  Surely the colours were more vibrant, the birdsong more sprightly, the occasional breeze more sweet.  That's what all the books said.

But nothing had changed around him, and he saw it all through hazy, blurred eyes, and without focus.  No, it was he who had changed.  It was he who was different now.  Kansas was the same as it had always been.  It was Clark Kent who had a new facet.

Giddy emotion swelled inside him, almost making him want to break into a run.  But he only jogged along for a few seconds, then fell back into his leisurely walk.  Wild berries were starting to ripen early along the path from Lex's house to his.  They were probably ripening early everywhere, he knew that, but it still meant something to him that these were.  Like they knew.

Luscious as they looked, he didn't eat any of them, but left them instead for the birds and the deer.  He was so happy, it surprised him that he wasn't starving, but he just supposed he was still too dazed to think about food.

He'd had sex.  He'd had real, unadulterated, triple X rated, really hot, really sweaty, really real sex... and everything was fine!  Lex was just fine, and Clark was—well, Clark was several vertical miles above ‘just fine.’  Clark was...  Clark was...

He took in a deep breath, smelling honeysuckle and sweetgrass, and sighed happily.  Clark was... normal.  In this—in this one thing that he'd never thought he could do, had always been afraid to try, had always been sure would be a complete disaster—in this one thing, Clark was as normal as anyone else.  He could make love.  He could show desire.  He could hold someone close in passion and not break them.  No matter how out of control he'd felt, he'd still stayed in control in the way it had mattered when it had mattered.

And next time would be just the same.  Actually, Clark thought that perhaps next time, he'd even be a little better.  Now that he had the gist of what was going on—of what to do—he could probably do better next time.  He'd know what to expect, so when the sensations came, maybe they wouldn't completely destroy him in the space of a few seconds.

His face heated and he cleared his throat quietly at the trees.  Yeah, that had been a little embarrassing.  Come on: A fifteen second guy?  That was just sad.  But he'd do better next time.  He knew it.  He'd do better for Lex.  He'd be steadier and smoother and touch Lex at the right time, but not too hard or too fast, nor hold on for too long.  He'd do it all just right, just the way Lex liked it.  Next time.

God, ‘next time’ was days away.  He didn't want to wait, but at the same time, figured he could probably use the space to remember how to breathe again.  He wasn't even sure he could remember how he used to look at people before.  He felt like he was smiling too big, standing too straight, blinking too infrequently.  He felt like he'd changed all over, and surely as soon as anyone—anyone at all—looked at him, they'd know that.

He was going to need the next few days just to recall how it was, exactly, that he even just said ‘hello’ to Lex when he saw him.

The house was coming up in the distance, and Clark slowed his pace just a little.  He concentrated on his face: His smile and his eyes.  He felt knowledge was shining out from his eyes.  Erotic, unmistakable knowledge, and he couldn't let his parents see that.  Couldn't let anyone see.

He took a few cleansing breaths and sped up his approach to the house.

Effort to school it pretty much gone to waste, he was still grinning madly when he walked through the front door.

"Clark!" his mother cried.  His head snapped up.  "Where have you been?"  She was jaunting over, taking his face in her hands, and he knew he was staring at her in complete wide-eyed bewilderment.  "We called Chloe, Lana, the Talon, the school, we called Lex's place and his staff said they hadn't seen Lex or you all day long—"

Clark swallowed roughly.

"—god, honey, your father drove out to the caves looking for you!  Where have you been all this time?"

Clark's eyes darted to his dad, but he just looked expectant and like Clark had better have a damn good explanation or there would be trouble.  "Um... Pete—" he started nervously.

"We called Pete," his dad broke in.  "But you didn't tell him where you were going when you took off at eight this morning.  Or if you did, he didn't remember.  Couldn't you at least call us if you weren't coming home right away?"

Clark licked his dry lips with a suddenly dry tongue.  "It's Saturday," he tried weakly.

His parents gawked at him.  "Clark..." his mom sounded incredibly disappointed, and more than a little hurt.

"We're not that strict about your comings and goings because we think you're a responsible kid, Clark.  But that doesn't mean that we don't worry if you don't call and no one's seen you for seven hours.  Now, stop giving us these excuses, and you tell us where the hell you've been, and I mean right now, mister."

His dad's voice had grown dark, his mother's eyes large.

Clark's good mood was gone.  He couldn't pretend anything this time.  He couldn't tell any half-truths, he couldn't just hold a few details back.  No, this time he had to lie.  He had to tell an out-and-out lie; he had to make something completely up off the top of his head; he had to treat his parents just like every other person in the world instead of the special people in his life they were supposed to be.

"I've... just been running around," he mumbled.  It felt like he'd taken several steps back from his parents when he'd said it.  It felt like they were on opposite sides of the room now.  But no one had moved.

"All day?" his mother asked incredulously.

Clark shrugged.  "Yeah, all day.  I just... I had all this energy, and, you know, I just didn't know what to do with myself, so I cut loose.  I just ran around all over the place."

His dad harrumphed.  "Well, that explains why you look so sweaty and flushed."

Clark looked down at himself to hide the fear in his eyes.  "Yeah, I—uh, I kind of want to just take a shower, actually."

His mother's rough, but paradoxically soft hands were on his face again, making him look at her.  Her eyes hurt him.  "Honey... is something wrong?"  She cared so much.  They both did.  They always had.

He shrugged a shoulder again.  "No," he said, his voice a little thick.  He cleared his throat.  "No, I just... you know, sometimes I just want to let go.  Sometimes I just need to get it out and, you know, do the things I can do."

And he did.  Oh, god, he wanted to let go, he wanted to get it out.  He wanted to let loose with a scream so loud and so long, glass would shatter all around him and dogs would howl for miles.  He just.  Wanted.  To.  Scream.

"Oh, honey..."  She looked back at his dad, who gazed back at her with a sad, soft understanding in his eyes.  It cut Clark up like razors.  "I'm sorry I yelled," she said, looking back up at him.  "I know how hard it must be to keep yourself in check all the time.  To not be able to use your wonderful gifts to their full potential.  To have to stay reined in so tightly."  She shook her head, smiled.  "I'm sure if I could fly, I'd just have to do it sometimes, too.  But, Clark, my god, if you're going to be speeding around aimlessly for huge blocks of time, could you at least stop at a phone booth in Alaska and call your poor, paranoid parents?"

Clark snorted and his dad chuckled quietly at his mother's humour.  It tended to sneak out when she was coming down from being overwrought.  "Well, I didn't go that far," Clark said with a smile, "but, yeah, Mom.  I'll call from now on.  I'm really sorry.  I never meant to make you guys worry."

She smiled back at him and moved closer, stroking at his cheek.  "Oh, Clark.  You know, if—oh."  She backed up suddenly, and waved her hand twice in front of her face, obviously trying not to laugh.  "My goodness, you really have been running around all day, haven't you?"

Clark blushed, then blanched, in quick succession, and took a step back.  He tried for a little bit of a sheepish grin, but had no idea if he achieved it.  He brought a hand self-consciously to the top of his shirt, holding it closed.  "Oh, do I smell bad?" he asked.

She laughed a little more, not getting close again.  "Whew," she breathed, and cleared her throat wryly.  "Honey, go take your shower.  Goodness."

Clark glanced at his dad, whose lips were twisted with the laughter he wasn't letting out.

Clark's embarrassment was like a triple-tied knot in the middle of his chest—not because he stank from exertion.  What are you gonna do?  Sweat smells.  But because he realized what a close and freaky possibility it was that she might have recognized what kind of sweat smell it was.  That his mother might have looked up at him and just known that...

Clark coughed, tried for that sheepish look again.  "All right."  He headed for the stairs.

"Clark?"

He froze, then tried to smile expectantly and looked toward his father.  "Hm?"

"You understand it's not that we don't trust you, son.  We do.  We trust you implicitly.  But we're your parents, and it's our job to worry.  It's your job to help us not have to.  All right?"

The knots fell apart in his chest, and then it felt like the rope fell apart altogether.  He could feel his heart breaking.

"Right," he said with a tight throat.  "Okay."

His dad nodded at him, as if satisfied with the close of the conversation.  Clark jetted up the stairs.

Closing the door behind him was almost superfluous.  He already felt like he was all the way across the property from his parents.  He just felt like he was pulling farther and farther away from them with every moment, with every word, with every lie.

If he would have just thought to call...  He'd just kept thinking ‘Pete has it covered,’ not considering what would happen if his parents wanted to talk to him and called back a couple of times.  He could only be ‘taking a shower’ or ‘in the bathroom’ so many times before Pete would have to ’fess up that he wasn't there at all.

He should have given Pete a number where he could be reached, so that he could call Clark if his parents wanted to talk to him.  Then he could have made an excuse, sped over, said hi and whatever else was needed, sped back and... well, made another excuse to Lex about where he'd just been for a couple of minutes.

He sighed, pushing off from the door.  God, it was all so complicated.  Seeing Lex was like working his way through a labyrinth, and he'd only gotten to glance at the map to it for a second before it was ripped away from him and he was shoved inside without a compass.  Then every time he reached a passage, he had to tell a more and more believable lie, or else he couldn't get through.

Clark started to pull his shirt over his head, then stopped halfway and just breathed in deeply.  He didn't care what his mom said: He didn't stink at all.  He smelt like Lex all over.  The odour was actually the two of them mixed together, but all it felt like to him was that he was covered with Lex's scent.

He stood there in the middle of the bathroom, shirt over his head and just breathed deeper and deeper for a minute or so.  Eventually, he got so filled up with it, the smell seemed to be less than it had been and he felt a little more justified taking the shirt the rest of the way off.  Really, he didn't want to shower.  But he couldn't walk around all weekend smelling like sex.  He was sure it wouldn't take more than another whiff for his mom or dad to realize what it was.

He made the water hotter than he knew was normal and sighed happily when he walked into it.  He felt finally satiated with Lex's smell, and was suddenly ready to be clean again.  His mind wandered as he scrubbed at his hair and body, taking his time and using liberal amounts of soap.

Sex ed. classes in school had covered some of the more prevalent STDs and the importance of tests and protection, and it had sounded scary and completely undesirable.  If anyone had suggested it, he probably would have laughed that he could ever find it romantic.  Oh, but it was.

What an amazing thing to do: To talk so openly, so bluntly, with such concern for another person about something so uncomfortable and personal and even frightening.  Lex was so caring, so careful, so concerned with Clark's comfort level and safety and what he was and wasn't okay with.  And the timing—that was what had really shocked him.  It was like Lex had known the second Clark had felt like he wanted more.  Like Lex had just seen right into his brain to where the ‘I think I might be ready’ light had started blinking, only moments after it had.  How did he do that?

Clark was only peripherally aware that he was grinning like a madman, and that only because the water was running into his mouth.

He turned and rinsed his mouth out a few times, shook his head under the hot spray.  The more he thought about it all—not just the tests, but everything that had happened between them—the more his heart just seemed to swell up in his chest.  Every good feeling he had was just building up and up in there until he thought it would burst, thought he really might not be able to hold any more.

He felt like he had to scream it, had to shout it from the rooftops, had to knock on every door and tell every member of every household until the whole world knew how he felt.  He felt the urge to scream again—just to let out some of the happiness so it didn't completely engulf him.

As the water beat on his chest, the emotion welled up and up and up, right into his throat, and then, with nowhere else to go, it just spilled out.  Clark was too small to hold it all.  It filled his eyes to the brim and spilled right out of his body and down his cheeks.

He stood there, still and smiling, eyes closed, and cried about how good he felt.


*


Jonathan bent down for another basket of asparagus, and found a good spot to wedge it in on the left-hand table of the Kents’ booth.  He reached over the tomatoes, artichokes, and carrots to rearrange the baskets in the front, making room for more in the back.  This intention took him down along the table and around the corner to the connecting longer table in the front of his booth, making more and more room as he went.

It was as he got to the front display that movement caught his eye and he glanced up to find Lex Luthor nonchalantly perusing what was already out.

With a heavy internal sigh, he turned without acknowledging Lex's presence, and hefted up another basket onto the left-hand table.  He was turning and twisting it into place (it was heavy with tiny new potatoes), when more movement made him glance up again.  He found his wife gawking at him in disbelief from where she was arranging the signs and prices from the front.

She made a private, chastising face that consisted mostly of slightly widened eyes and lips barely moving in a way not meant to actually convey words, just a point.  Her gaze shifted pointedly toward Lex, then back at him.

Jonathan sighed outwardly this time, stopped just short of rolling his eyes, and turned back around.  He acknowledged Lex with a nod of his head.  "Lex," he said through half a sigh, sounding already tired of the situation, even to himself.  He bent for more baskets and worked on arranging the front table.

Lex glanced up and smiled nervously.  He nodded back.  "Mr. Kent," he said.  It sounded artificially cheery, and yet careful, as if he was afraid Jonathan was about to tear into him over something.

Lex always had approached him with a kind of caution.  Most of the time, Jonathan found it slimy and insincere.  Sometimes, if Lex was particularly unwelcome, it felt empowering.  Right now, it was more irritating than anything.

"Don't know what you're doing here.  You have everything delivered to that big castle of yours, don't you?"  He kept his voice down, his face placid.  Martha couldn't hear him from here.

Lex nodded jerkily, swallowed visibly, and slid his hands into his pockets as if he didn't know what to do with them.  He seemed to be studying the offering of berries very carefully and yet not seeing at them at all.  He cleared his throat.  "Yes, well... It's good to stop by to get an idea what the best items to order this week are."  He gestured widely at the three tables making a block U.  "Now I'm regretting it.  It's going to be impossible to choose."

Buy it all and waste eighty percent of it.  Isn't that what Luthors do?

But he didn't say that.  He was a farmer and the sales he made put clothes on his family's back, food on the table, and fuel in the truck.

By nodding his head, Jonathan pointed at the collection of strawberry baskets near Lex's right hand.  "I'd recommend the strawberries.  It's been warm.  They're tiny, but they're sweet and ripe."

This time when Lex looked, he actually seemed to see.  He didn't touch anything.  "They do look wonderful..."  He paused, nodded.  "They'll certainly be on my list."

He glanced up and smiled—again, nervously—then his gaze darted away again as if he was afraid to hold Jonathan's stare.

Jonathan felt confusion tighten his forehead.  Then he tried to just blank his expression out altogether as he continued to arrange his produce.  Maybe his distaste was coming through a bit more obviously than usual, and making Lex uncomfortable.  He'd already been irritated about being late to set up because of another of Clark's marathon showers this morning.  Lex's presence was just fueling his fire.

But what Martha hadn't quite said was ultimately correct: Lex hadn't done anything overtly wrong.  He was just perusing the offerings like a hundred plus more would do to-day.  Even though Jonathan knew Lex was only there putting forth the effort to mix with the little people to bolster his own image to the community, he didn't have any real reason not to at least be cordial to the guy.

So he tried.  "I hear LuthorCo—I mean, LexCorp..."  Lex's gaze had shot to his face when he'd misspoke, as if trying to discern whether it was intentional or not.  Jonathan closed his eyes at himself.  He hadn't done it consciously.  But it was pretty damn close to how he felt.  "That LexCorp... is going to be expanding," he finished, almost mumbling.

Lex's brow tightened for a brief second, then he smiled slightly, and yet, still nervously.  "Where did you hear that, Mr. Kent?"

Jonathan shrugged, unconcerned, and worked another basket of berries onto the table.  "Talk of the town," he said casually.

Lex nodded, eyes going back to the produce, though he wasn't seeing it again.  "Well, it's not entirely accurate.  No decision has been made.  But it's something I'm considering."

Jonathan wanted, mildly, to keep the venom out of his voice, but didn't put forth too terribly much effort to do so.  "I suppose you'll be mowing down that cornfield beside you, then," he said through a grunt, not even looking at Lex, just continuing to adjust for the space he was allotted.

Lex was looking at him.  "No.  Actually, that field belongs to a farmer by the name of—"

"I know who it belongs to, Lex."  There was no effort that time.  The venom was clear, as it was meant to be.

Lex gulped audibly, but didn't look away.  He seemed, though, to be constantly flinching.  "Then I'm sure you know that he's not the kind of man who would give up such a rich piece of land for any price.  Money only lasts so long.  The land will keep his family going for generations."

Jonathan flinched this time.  It was almost exactly what he'd been gearing up to say.  He narrowed his eyes to communicate his suspicion of Lex's disingenuity.

Lex nodded minutely, as if gathering something that hadn't been said.  "No," he said again.  "There's an empty field behind the LexCorp building that's part of the property.  If I decide to expand the plant, we'll expand in that direction."

"And when you have to expand again?"

"I can only hope I'm successful enough to have to think about that down the line, Mr. Kent.  But, still... I think we both know that cornfield isn't about to be sold."

Lex's words would have seemed strong if he hadn't looked so discomfited.  He obviously didn't want to be having this conversation.  Actually, Jonathan wasn't sure he wanted to be having any conversation with him.  He was starting to wonder why Lex had come by if he was feeling so damn out of place.

Martha came around the corner, still hanging signs and finding places for the ones with sticks.  "Hello, Lex," she said pleasantly.

Lex smiled at her—still nervously.  "Mrs. Kent."

His eyes dropped back to the produce immediately, looking without seeing again, and Martha threw Jonathan a questioning look.  He half-shrugged to indicate he had no idea what Lex's problem was this morning, and he wasn't taking responsibility for it, either.

"Everything okay, Lex?" Martha asked.

Lex glanced up like a startled rabbit.  Jonathan was sure his own perplexity was showing on his face.  Normally his wife's presence did a remarkable job of easing the tensions between him and Lex.  Instead, Lex seemed even jumpier.

"Of course," he said, voice deceptively cool, and not matching his face.  He tried to smile, corner of his mouth twitching more than turning up, then dropped his gaze to the produce again.  "It's a wonderful spring harvest," he said with appreciation.  "Looks like you're doing well."

"The weather's been very mild," Martha said.

Lex nodded in agreement.  There was an uncomfortable silence, and Jonathan could see a sheen of sweat forming over Lex's forehead.  There was no reason for that—the weather was still mild.

Then just as Lex opened his mouth to say something else—probably nervously—Clark came into the booth from behind.

"Got the last of it," he said, carrying two baskets, one on top of the other.  "Sorry I took so long, but I—oh.  Hi, Lex."

"Clark."  Lex barely even looked at him.  He swiped casually at a temple where a bead of perspiration had gathered.

The beat of silence this time was tense.  Jonathan shared a look with Martha—she seemed to be wondering the same thing as him: Whether the boys were having a fight.

"Where do you want these, Dad?"  Clark was looking over the tables that Jonathan had already packed tight.

He gestured under the table.  "Just put them down there for now.  We'll move them up when there's room."

A flurry of customers gathered at the right-hand side of the booth, and Martha came around to help them.  Jonathan moved a few baskets around beneath the stand, finding nooks for each of Clark's.  He looked up, holding his hands open for the second basket to be handed to him, but it wasn't.  Clark was staring across the table at Lex, smiling slightly, for what seemed to be no reason at all.

Jonathan sighed sharply.  "Clark?"

He jumped and handed the basket down.  "Oh, sorry."  He slid his hands into his back pockets when they were empty.  "Hey, the strawberries are really great," Clark apparently directed at Lex.  "You should get some.  I mean—order some.  I'll bring them."

"I'm planning on it, Clark.  How are the tomatoes?"

When Jonathan stood back up, Lex had one of them in his hand and was examining it.

"Firm," Clark answered quietly.  "And ripe."

Lex paused, then very suddenly put the fruit back.  "Right," he said roughly, and moved slightly away, more toward Martha's section.  He cleared his throat.  "All right.  Well, I think I can make some well-informed decisions for this week's order, then.  Mr. Kent.  Mrs. Kent," he met each of their gazes in turn.  "Clark."  He didn't even look at him.

"Bye, Lex," Clark said.

"Enjoy the market, Lex," Martha said.

Jonathan said nothing, just watched Lex walk away for a minute.  Then he turned to look at Clark curiously.  Clark shrugged, a blithe little smile on his face, as if to say, ‘Don't look at me, I don't know what's going on with him.’

Jonathan wanted to ask a question but, unsure of how he wanted to phrase it, he didn't manage to get to it before more customers required his assistance.  In less than a minute, he'd forgotten all about it.


*


Lex controlled his strides with an iron will.  He had a sharp, intense urge to run as fast as he could, but it simply wouldn't do.

He stuck to a brisk walk, to put forth the impression that he had an appointment which needed keeping.  He believed he was as cool and as calm as he could possibly be until he finally got into his car, locked the doors, and thanked the lucky, unplanned happenstance of having chosen a car with tinted windows this morning.

Hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, he put his head down on the backs of them and panted loudly.  His heart was in his throat, he could hear only the rush of blood through his ears, he was breathing like a spent racehorse, he wasn't even sure what he or anyone else had said after Clark's response to his question about tomatoes, and he didn't know what the hell his problem was.

Lex had been only slightly more uncomfortable around the Kents since he and Clark had shifted into something more than they'd been all the time they'd known one another.  But it was easily controlled—almost able to be forgotten when necessary.  It had never affected him so.

He'd gone from nervous to jittery to absolutely terrified in a short stretch of time and with minimal encouragement.  He didn't have to think about it for long before he understood why.

Things had changed again.  In fact, things had changed rather dramatically in only one night, one morning.  The memories were fresh in his mind—intense, vivid, beautiful, frightening, and new.  They weren't so innocent anymore, and they weren't so easy to suppress in the presence of Clark's parents.

But the terror—Jesus, the abject terror had taken him completely by surprise.  He hadn't expected it be that strong—not ever that strong.  He'd always had a healthy dose of respect for, and even fear of Mr. Kent.  He'd always been aware of the fact that he wasn't well liked and that, ultimately, Mr. Kent had the ability and the power to ban Clark from having contact with him.  The closer he grew to Clark, the more he felt he'd better tip-toe around Mr. Kent.

Unlike the rest of his life, he didn't want to rock the boat in this relationship.  He'd take what he could get and despair if any of it was snatched back.  To know that someone who detested him so openly held the ultimate power to snatch it all back was incredibly harrowing.

But, god, he thought, leaning finally against the seatback, get a handle on yourself.

Bad enough Jonathan Kent had the ability to snatch it all away from him.  Worse yet if he knew what all there was to snatch away.  Even worse yet if the man understood what that would do to Lex: How it would tear him apart, how it would nearly, if not completely destroy him.

He'd known Clark for two years now.  He'd invested so much of himself, so much time, so much emotion, so much involvement, that he simply could no longer handle any movement that wasn't forward.

For so long, he'd tried to instigate himself into Clark's life just to have a part of him—even just a small part of him that he could keep for himself and cherish.  But now, it was as if his life was Clark.  And he wasn't aware of precisely when it had happened—probably because he'd given only a bit at a time—but Clark had all of him now.

He thought he'd only offered a small piece of his heart, but now, he looked and saw that at some point, he'd just handed the whole thing over.  Without even thinking about it, without trying, without even the smallest bit of effort, he'd just handed it right over.  He hadn't even protested, hadn't even fought to keep what was his, to keep what he'd protected so close and so dear and with such high walls for nearly as long as he could remember.

And, my god... he didn't want it back.  He wanted to put Clark's in its place.


*


Lex moved provocatively and with unconscious, swanlike grace beneath him.  It was captivating.  It was breathtaking.  Lex was breathtaking.

Clark stared into Lex's hooded eyes, sure his own longing was etched into his face.  He wanted to say it so badly.  He felt it so strongly, and the words were right there, gathered up at the back of his throat.  But he could push them no farther.

Just saying those three tiny words wasn't enough.  There was so much more behind it—so much to say about the why and the how and the incredible, unexpected things it brought him.  But Lex didn't know the facts necessary for Clark to tell him everything he felt.  And Clark just wasn't eloquent enough to get all the emotion across without leaning heavily on the details.

Hips rocking with a steady, sweet motion as he filled Lex's body over and over again, Clark dipped down to gently caress a kiss over Lex's exquisitely shaped upper lip.  Lex sucked at his lower one in turn, making it swell with hot blood even more than it already had, and making Clark feel the pull in many places at once.

The strongest was in his heart.  Lex's body tight around him, open and vulnerable; Lex's hands on his back, lightly scratching tingles of pleasure across the skin; Lex's lips on his own; Lex's legs squeezing his hips—all of it.  All of it pulled most strongly at his heart.

Clark kissed him no harder, no deeper.  He merely finished his lips’ gentle caress and rose again to watch Lex's face with open tenderness.  This time would be soft, this time would be slow, this time there would be no blank teenage questions, no rush to finish, no closeness sacrificed for position.  If he couldn't say it, then he could at least show it by the way he handled Lex's body in his hands.  He could at least demonstrate his veneration.

Because how could he say it?  How dare he say it?  How could he cheapen this so?  How could he actually harden his hypocrisy with voice, telling Lex what he felt inside while Clark was still lying to him and hiding from him and not sharing with him the most basic truths about himself?

And how betrayed would Lex feel to know that they had no pleasant, cosmic connection—to know that Clark's differentness was so far beyond what Lex had imagined all this time that it highlighted only their disparateness, not their similarities?  How could Lex not hate him if Clark told him these facts?  And then how could he believe it if Clark followed it up with the words he felt?

How could the truth ever hope to reconcile itself with this emotion inside him?

But until his secrets had seen the harsh light of day, Clark didn't deserve to assert his feelings.  And he knew no way he could tell his secrets and not cause terrible pain.

Knowing his own pain—knowing everything—was in his eyes, he bent to kiss emotion into Lex's mouth rather than speak it in deceit.  When he rose again and offered a small smile of adulation, it seemed that his emotional pain had been communicated more intensely than he would have thought it could.  It was there in Lex's eyes now, being reflected back at him with a sympathy bereft of understanding.

How Clark yearned to offer these words, to find some way to smooth the rough edges of his lies, to tell Lex what he meant to him, to do it without hurting him, without lying to him, without lying to himself about his own duplicity.

"Clark..." his name was sighed, not spoken.  Lex's neck arched back, then straightened again.  He kept Clark's gaze through it, eyes still only half open and almost all black.  His swollen, red lips pressed together in a determined kind of line, and he swallowed.

When Lex's mouth opened again, it did the most extraordinary, the most unexpected thing.  "Clark..." Lex breathed,  "...I love you."

Clark froze.



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To Be Continued . . .

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All film quotes are from Re-Animator, the R-rated version, released in 1985, and adapted from Herbert West: Re-Animator by H. P. Lovecraft, published in 1922.

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I wanna read the sequel.

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I wanna feed a starving writer!  :)

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I wanna go home.