by rebecca

Feed me. Please. Or I cry.

"It's weird, having Ryan gone, you know? I mean, he was only around for a little while, but--I kinda got used to him being here."

Lex straightens up from where he's been playing pool. "People do that, Clark. They come into your life and they make you care about them." There's an odd look in his eyes; one Clark isn't sure how to read.

"I liked being a big brother. It was neat, having someone look up to me like that." Clark looks over at the pool table, seeing Lex eyeing the remaining balls, choosing his shot.

"Most people look up to you, Clark. You're 6'3"." Lex smiles a little and sinks another ball with one easy shot.

The deadpan sarcasm isn't entirely unexpected, although Lex normally doesn't pull that on him. "You know what I meant, Lex."

"Do I." Lex tosses the cue down on the felt of the table and runs a hand over his head idly. "Clark, you're the uber-Boy Scout. Most people look up to you. Ryan had a case of hero worship that went along with it."

Something isn't right here and Clark's not sure what it is. "Why are you so cynical today?" he asks, feeling wounded.

"I'm cynical every day. Goes along with being a Luthor." Lex twists off the cap of a bottle of water and drinks, gesturing with the bottle. "You honestly think my father would have let me grow up an idealist?"

"But you're not--not normally like this. Is everything okay?" Clark's getting worried here; there's something about Lex that just seems--off. Something reckless, or uncaring. He's not sure.

"Everything's fine, Clark." Lex walks toward him; Clark's beginning to feel uncomfortably like prey. "Pardon me; dealing with my father generally leaves me rather--unsettled."

"Is there anything I can do?" Lex is standing a foot away from him, respecting personal space in a way Lex usually *doesn't*, and Clark feels like he can't breathe. He's beginning to get seriously worried here.

Lex's eyes flare briefly before his face falls into its usual cool mask. "No, Clark. There's nothing you can do." He turns to go back to the pool table; Clark, acting on impulse, reaches out and grasps Lex's shoulder. Lex turns halfway, looking at Clark's hand before looking up at Clark.

"Lex--we're friends, right? I mean--you told me once you thought of me as a younger brother. You can talk to me." Clark isn't sure how he does it, but Lex moves out from under his hand and is halfway across the room before he has time to blink.

"One of the perks of being the big brother is that you don't have to tell the younger sibling everything." Lex picks up the pool cue again, idly rolling it between his fingers.

"So screw the brother analogy. Lex, I'm your friend. You can tell me what's going on."

"I'm staying in Smallville." The pool balls clack against each other, one dropping neatly into a pocket. "After being exiled here, I'm staying--of my own free will. You don't think I'm wondering why I chose to do that?" Lex glances over at Clark briefly before turning his attention back to the pool table.

"I thought--" Actually, Clark hasn't thought about Lex's decision to stay. "Why'd you decide to stay, then?"

"Damned if I know." The last ball slams into its pocket and Lex tosses the pool cue down, standing up. "Perhaps I decided that the air in Metropolis was too--cynical for me. Or perhaps, as my father thinks, I'm using this time away from him to plot the day when I will take over from him. Even if he's not ready for me to do so."

Compared with his own parents, Lex's relationship with his father is something less like family and more like the kind of set-up that breeds sociopaths. "Are you?" Clark asks.

"Am I what, planning on taking over from dear old Dad? Eventually, I'm sure." Lex picks up the water bottle and drinks again. "Probably when he doesn't expect it."

"But is that why you're staying here?" Clark really wishes he knew what Lex was hiding. He's tense, and his face is even more shuttered than usual, but his eyes--they're gleaming with something. Some mood or thought he doesn't want to share.

"I really don't think you want to know the answer to that question, Clark."

"Why not?"

"You have--a rather optimistic opinion of me. I'd rather not sully it with the truth."

That hurts. "You don't think I'll be your friend any longer if I learn something I don't want to know? Friendship doesn't work like that."

Lex shrugs. "Then yes. I'm staying here so I can plot the day I return to Metropolis--with an army behind me--and set my father aside." His smile is twisted, but he doesn't turn away from Clark. "Happy now?"

"No." Because it's not the truth. Or not the whole truth, at any rate. Lex is still hiding something, and Clark wants--almost needs--to know what it is. "What aren't you telling me?"

Lex's smile twists a little more bitterly and he shakes his head slowly. "Let me tell you something, Clark. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss."

"Not here, it's not," Clark says stubbornly.

"And what if--" Lex tilts his head to one side, looking at Clark with a somewhat amused air. "What if I told you that I wanted to fuck you? What would you say then?"

He's not serious. He can't be. But Clark can't come up with a response to save his life. He stares at Lex incredulously.

"Exactly my point. Believe me, Clark, you're better off not knowing."

"Do you?" Clark blurts before thinking about it.

"Do I what?"

"Do you want to--to have sex. With me." He's not going to blush, but forcing the words out are a bit difficult.

"What if I did?" Lex is prowling toward him now, looking like this is some big joke. And Clark doesn't know what to do--whether to back up or hold his ground. He decides to stay where he is.

Only Lex doesn't stop a safe distance away from him. He moves forward until he's practically pressed against Clark, so close Clark feels the heat of his body. Which is odd--because Lex is always cool. But he's here now and so warm Clark thinks he could just--melt into him.

"What if I did?" Lex repeats, and now Clark can identify the gleam in Lex's eyes. It's hunger, and need, and Clark doesn't think he's ever seen Lex's eyes so expressive before.

"I don't--I've never thought about it before." Clark's mouth is dry but he's afraid to moisten his lips. He's balanced on a very precarious edge and if he makes one wrong move, he's afraid he'll just--fall. This isn't brotherhood they're talking about, it's sex, only with his best (male) friend and he has no idea where to go from here.

Lex nods, slowly, still with that flame of need in his eyes. "Like I told you, Clark--sometimes ignorance is bliss." He steps away from Clark, and Clark can see the mask settling into place.

"Lex--I didn't say I didn't want to. You just--threw me for a loop. I wasn't exactly expecting--"

"It's all right, Clark."

But it isn't. And before he knows what he's doing Clark takes one step forward and kisses Lex, grabbing his upper arms so Lex can't pull away. It's his first real kiss and he doesn't know what he's doing, only that Lex's mouth is open under his and his tongue is wet and silky and sleek against Clark's, that his grip has loosened somehow because Lex's hands are on his shoulders, and that--

--he wants this. He could drown in this, kissing Lex, tasting him, and Clark realizes he'll do anything to get more. Anything, if it gets him Lex naked and pressed up against him, if it lets him touch Lex and make him groan.

If it'll take that edge of desperation out of Lex's eyes.

"I thought about it," Clark pants when they finally break for air, resting his forehead against the top of Lex's head. "I've never--God, Lex, I've never thought--but I want you, and if you tell me you were just teasing earlier I think I may have to kill you."

"Does this feel like I'm teasing?" Lex's voice is thick and husky and he presses his hips against Clark, letting Clark feel the heat and the hardness of his erection, even through the fabric of his pants.

Clark bites back a moan and kisses Lex again, having run out of words other than 'God' and assorted moans and groans.

"I'm going to make this so good for you," Lex murmurs, nipping Clark's throat, mouthing the skin there. "So good--"

Only that's not what Clark wants, because what he wants is to make this good for Lex, but he can't find the words to say that because Lex's hands are on him and his brain is spontaneously combusting.

"Wait," he manages at last. "Wait--I want--this should be good for you," he gets out.

"Oh, believe me, Clark--it will be."

"...oh." So much for coherency.

Somehow they make it to the couch (although the logistics of it are a mystery to Clark) and then Lex's hands are on him, undressing him, pulling off his sweater and his shirt and leaving him bare from the waist up. "I must say, the last time I saw you shirtless was less--inspiring, but I think the cross and the spray paint had something to do with that."

How the hell is Lex managing to talk, let alone put sentences together? All Clark can do is lick his lips and reach for Lex's shirt, wanting to feel the skin under it. Lex hesitates a moment before tossing the shirt to the side; Clark doesn't know why, and then--

--he sees them. Lex has no body hair; perhaps that's what makes this so much more disturbing. Because there's nowhere for them to hide against his pale skin.

Lex has scars all over his upper body. Some are jagged lines, others are small, neat marks, some Clark can't even describe. "Lex, what--" he asks, reaching up to trace one of them, a wide shallow mark that ends shortly above his left nipple.

"I was a rebellious teen, Clark," Lex says matter-of-factly. "I did--a lot of things that ended with me getting hurt somehow."

"But--why?" Clark can't understand it.

"Because when you don't care if you live or die, you'll do just about anything."

There's nothing Clark can really say to that, so instead of searching for words, he draws Lex down and kisses him again, deep and wet. The varying textures of Lex's skin on his are addictive; the underlying silky smoothness contrasts with the rougher feel of the scars. It's intoxicating.

Lex breaks away long before Clark is ready to let him go. "I want your clothes off," Lex says darkly. "Now."

"Uh--okay." Clark swallows, but Lex's hands are at the fly of his jeans before he can move.

"I'll do this."

And he does, slowly and teasingly, until Clark's spread out nude under him, so hard it almost hurts and trembling with the control it takes to not pounce Lex, just pin him down and thrust his hips against him until they both come all over the place.

Only the knowledge that that *isn't* what Lex wants keeps him on the couch, soft leather against his back and smooth Lex against his front. "Not--not fair," Clark says, arching helplessly into the touch of Lex's hand on his hip, smoothing him down. "You're still dressed."

"Do you want me not to be?" Lex murmurs against his throat, licking him.

"Yes--" It's a hiss, more than anything else, and his breath catches when Lex bites down. Not hard--but enough that the small shock makes him tremble.

"All right." One last nip and Lex slides off him, undressing with the same teasing care he used on Clark. He's completely unself-conscious about his nudity--and, Clark thinks, he has every right to be. He's perfect, like some sort of marble statue. No hair anywhere and smooth pale skin over surprisingly defined muscles. And his cock--Clark swallows.

It's hard and flushed with blood, standing up against his stomach; Clark's never seen another guy's hard-on before, but he has to say, Lex's is making him want to drop to his knees and--well.

"Don't move," Lex says, stopping him before he can even sit up.


"Don't. Move." It's clear who's in charge here, and Clark isn't it.

He swallows helplessly and stays where he is, clenching his fists in an attempt to remain still while Lex crawls back on top of him, but oh God the feel of Lex naked against him is just so good, so right--how did he go this long without realizing what he want--no, needed?

"What do you want me to do, Clark?" Lex purrs, and his hands are on Clark's hips, shifting them, settling Lex between his legs. "Do you want me to jerk you off? Suck you? Do you want to fuck me, Clark?" He's nipping Clark's throat and shoulders as he speaks, sharp little bites soothed by wet strokes of his tongue and Clark can barely understand him because there's no blood left in his brain.

"I want--oh--I--" Clark writhes under him, hips thrusting up reflexively against Lex's. "Fuck me," he begs, needing Lex inside him, hard and deep.

Lex just stops cold. "Clark--you're not ready for that. You're--" And it's Lex's turn to get cut off because Clark pulls him down and kisses him, hot and sloppy and wet.

"I need it, Lex," Clark says breathlessly, his hands moving over Lex's body. "God, I need you--" Lex is hard against his hip and he arches up in reflex.

"Ten minutes ago you'd never even thought about me in this way," Lex points out, although his voice is strained.

"I was stupid."

Lex just looks at him for a moment, and then he begins to laugh. His head drops and rests against Clark's chest and he's laughing, helplessly, and all Clark can do is hold him and try to ignore how their cocks are sliding against each other and how easy it would be to just reach down...

"Oh, Clark," Lex says finally, catching his breath. "Oh--" And he kisses Clark again, like he's trying to swallow Clark. "You want that?" he murmurs, biting at Clark's lips. "You want my cock inside you?"

"God--" Clark is panting, and every time Lex speaks it sends shivers down his spine. "Please, Lex--"

"You're so pretty when you beg," Lex tells him, kneeling up, resting his hands on Clark's chest. "Debauched is a good look for you."

Lex reaches down and wraps his hand around Clark's cock and Clark groans, thrusting up into the circle of Lex's fingers helplessly. Lex's hand on him is warm and smooth and if anyone had told him yesterday that he'd be sprawled out on his best friend's couch, nude, while said friend jerked him off--

It's amazing how your entire worldview can change in a matter of seconds.

He's too close, about to come and he doesn't want to yet--and he has no idea how he manages but he grabs Lex's wrist, stopping him. "Not--in me," he says incoherently, but Lex smiles.

"I need to get something," he says, bending to kiss Clark before standing and going over to his desk. Clark watches him, gulping in air and amazed at how comfortable Lex is with his own body. As if he could care less that he's naked and hard and being watched by the guy he's about to fuck.

Which makes him wonder just how often Lex has done this. But he won't ask.

Lex comes back, carrying a bottle in one hand. "Come down here," he says, and Clark slides onto the floor. The rug is soft under his back and they've got more room to move, which he guesses is a good thing. He doesn't really know.

"It's not too late to back out," Lex warns him, his eyes steady on Clark's face. Clark just shakes his head, knowing his face is flushed and he probably looks like a total idiot.

"No," he says quietly. And something in Lex's eyes changes and the next thing he knows he's on his back, Lex on top of him, kissing him and rubbing against him and he thinks he might black out from the sheer insane pleasure of it.

"Fuck, Clark--" Lex pulls back, biting his lip hard. "Turn over," he says. "Hands and knees, it'll be easier."

But easy isn't what he wants--he wants to see Lex's face, watch him as he pushes deeper into him and Clark stifles a moan. "I want to see you," he says thickly.

"It'll hurt more," Lex tells him.

"I don't care." And he doesn't.

Lex looks at him and nods. "Spread your legs," he says, showing Clark how he wants him. On his back, legs spread, knees bent, open and ready. For Lex to take him.

The gel, or whatever it is, feels cool against his overheated skin. Lex slicks up one finger and just draws circles around Clark's opening, teasing him until Clark can feel the little muscles quivering, trying to draw it in. He tries to take a breath and when he does, Lex's finger pushes right into him. "Oh--" Clark whimpers.

"So incredibly tight," Lex mutters, working his finger around in Clark's body. "Christ, Clark--"

Clark can't speak. He's so focused on the feel of Lex's finger in him, fucking him--it feels huge and yet it's only one finger. Lex's cock won't be anywhere near this small.

"Ready for more?" Lex asks after a moment. Clark nods mutely, shivering when Lex's finger slides out of his body, replaced a moment later by two. He moans, gasping for air. "I'm going to try not to hurt you," Lex says, his fingers stretching Clark, loosening him up.

"I--I don't care. If you do." Clark isn't sure Lex can hurt him. Even his fingers don't 'hurt' so much as it's this stretchy kind of burn that leaves him breathlessly wanting more.

"One more," Lex says after a moment, and this time Clark semi-expects the strange empty feeling he gets when Lex's fingers slide out of him. The third one makes him gasp and he bucks upward against them.

"Oh--" He doesn't want Lex's fingers anymore, he wants Lex, hard and smooth and inside him. "Fuck me, Lex," he begs, pressing back against Lex's long fingers. "Please..."

Lex withdraws his hand, slicking his cock with the gel. "Yeah," he whispers. "Yeah, you're ready for me."

And he is and he isn't and when the head of Lex's cock pushes against him, entering him, Clark groans helplessly. It's everything he's never known he's wanted and nothing he's ever thought he's needed. "Fuck me," he begs again, even as Lex slides deeper into him. "Take me, Lex--"

He has no idea how long it takes for Lex to enter him fully. It burns and he feels filled in a way he's never even dreamed about; he thinks he could just stay like this forever. It's so perfect he's about to shatter with it.

It can't get any better than this.

And then Lex moves and all his ideas about perfection fly out of his head, along with everything else. The only thing that remains is this--burning heat and silk and steel and the incredible, indescribable feeling of being taken. "Clark," Lex groans, his face a tight mask of concentration. "So good--if I'd known you were this good--"

"You'd what, Lex?" Clark pants, looking up at him.

"Gone insane," Lex tells him, just as his cock rubs against something inside Clark that makes him cry out and see stars.

"What--" Clark manages.

"Your prostate," Lex says, his voice tight. He rubs against it again and Clark shudders all over.


He loses all sense of time, submerged in this rhythm of pure need. He's hard and leaking and desperate for release, but when he reaches for his cock Lex bats his hand away. "This what you need?" Lex asks, trapping Clark's cock between their stomachs, sliding it against his skin with every thrust into Clark.

"God, yes..."

It's too much, it's finally too much, and he comes with a choked off cry, his semen spattering over both their chests. He counts with the one brain cell he's got left--four, no, five thrusts and Lex is coming deep inside him, groaning something against his chest.

They lie there, hearts pounding, skin slick with sweat and come, until eventually Lex eases out of Clark's body and stretches out next to him. "Well," he says, turning to look at Clark. "So much for my little brother analogy."

And Clark just laughs.

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