by Te

by Te
April 2002

Disclaimers: If they were mine, no hurt would come without adequate comfort.

Spoilers: Vague ones up through Stray.

Summary: Lex needs. Clark needs.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Author's Notes: I had a good dream, I wanted to share the feeling. I'm not sure I succeeded. Hmm.

Acknowledgments: To my We, of course, especially Miss Spike for poking me when I whined. Love also to Jenn and Livia for audiencing, and extra love for Livia because she's cute and puts up with me at four in the FREAKING morning and giving me a title.

Feedback is love, too.


Te says: I've decided I have a kink for Lexes who allow themselves to be comforted, one way or another.

Spike says: Yeah. Me, too.

Te says: "Let me," Clark says. And it's a plea, yes, but he's afraid it sounds more like a command. Lex in his arms, writhing just beneath the skin like a tangle of snakes.

Spike says: ohhh

Spike says: tangle of snakes is beautiful Lexness. write more.

Te says: Yes'm. g

Something like a snarl against Clark's throat and he shivers. There's something horrible, rancid like medicine in the feel of this. Lex shouldn't be struggling against him. Not with what's behind them, with all it took to just get Lex out of this, let alone... Clark shakes it off internally.

"Lex, please..." And he can't keep his voice from cracking and he can't keep his cheeks from heating and he can't keep his heart from thumping in ugly triumph. Because Lex stills.

Doesn't relax, but he's still in Clark's arms for long enough that Clark can hold him a little tighter. Better.

Lean, hard muscle against him, one of Lex's arms crushed to his side. The other is flexing, releasing. Scrabbling with terrible weakness at the back of Clark's shirt.

Hot breath against Clark's throat, incongruously sweet. Lex had gone against type and had some sort of candy. Maybe Mrs. Milling's at the post office? That's where the abduction had... It's a stupid question, absolutely unimportant and Lex makes another sound.

Low, strangled. Clark can feel lips moving against his skin and it's a struggle not to shiver. They aren't forming anything like words.

Carefully, slower than slow, Clark shifts one hand to the back of Lex's head, shapes his palm to the smooth scalp, the funny little knob he'd wanted to touch for so long now. So long.

The skin is cool, not quite damp in the lowering fog. Clark has always hated fog, like trying to run through endless spiderwebs, through wet smoke that stank of everything the wind should've blown away.

Blood, and manure, and cordite. Lex's cologne faint and meaningless despite how close they are.

Lex doesn't fight when Clark pulls his head down and in, pressing his face against his chest. Holding him there. Gentle, yes, but firm. Firm. Allow no questions, or the animal will be spooked and this time Clark's the one strangling on words he doesn't know.

Sudden grab and Lex has the back of Clark's shirt fisted in one palm. Strength back in an instant. For Clark.

Ah, God. Lex.

Dead thunk behind him and they both jump. They've both had more than enough time to get used to the sound of ambulance doors closing.

Scrape of gravel closer behind. One of the paramedics. There's no need for them to rush, of course.

"Mr. Kent --"

"I'll get him home," Clark says, and wonders if his voice sounds adult enough to be trusted.

Heavy hand on his free shoulder, just long enough to squeeze, and the scent of blood (it's Lionel's blood, it has to be, he hadn't hit the kidnapper in any way that would bleed, not like that not that much) is stronger for a moment.

And then the hand is gone, and then the footsteps are gone, and Clark doesn't relax until he can't hear the ambulance anymore.

Lex is a tight, hot bundle of muscle just beneath his rumpled clothes. His breathing is even as a sleeper's, his heart thundering erratic against Clark.

"I won't let you go," Clark says, because it's the only thing he can think of.

Or... the only thing with words. There are images. Discomfort and angered sympathy in his father's eyes, pure pity in his mother's. Lex slumped and dead-eyed in their kitchen, leaching light and heat out of the world.

He can't take that. He *couldn't* take that, and Clark isn't sure which of them he's thinking about.

"Please," Clark says, and shudders when Lex does. The fog and the dank and the wet and the blood is all somewhere behind Clark's back, but he thinks Lex can see it anyway.

He doesn't dare hold Lex any tighter, but he has to squeeze him, get closer. Close enough to... something. Ducks his head and presses his cheek to Lex's scalp and breathes in fear-sweat and anger-sweat and something that he hopes and fears is grief.


There's a rough, aching voice screaming just behind Clark's tongue with all the things he wants to say to Lex, all the things that don't belong on this stupid pitted road under a sky that doesn't deserve the name.

He brushes his lips against the curve of Lex's head as he pulls back, instead. A weak and lying compromise that will have to do for now.

Turns them around so that Lex's back is to the stains on the road and grips him by the shoulders.

Lex isn't looking at him, or anything. His eyes and cheeks are dry, his mouth a deceptively slack line of indifference. There are bruises fading on his cheek and throat. The fabric of Clark's shirt has left fading welts.

The police have been gone for a while, having taken only the briefest of possible (preliminary?) statements from Lex.

Clark doesn't want anyone here for... this. Whatever this is. "Lex... where do you want to go?"

"I have to go to Metropolis," he says, without a pause. "I need to be seen. There are phone calls to be made, meetings..." Lex blinks then, seems to focus on some middle distance.

"Lex, no..."

Flash of something bright and terrible in eyes like wet slate. "LuthorCorp needs a head. Now."

Clark squeezes once and tries to pull Lex against him. The struggle is immediate and fierce. Shudderingly creepy in the way that Lex never actually focuses on him while he fights. Never says a word, lips pulled back in a silent snarl.

"Oh God, Lex, please let me --"

Ducks a sudden punch that would've broken a normal man's jaw, or Lex's hand.

Hears himself whine high in his throat as he finally just grabs Lex's wrists and holds them behind the man's body with one hand and drags him close with the other.


"I'm right here, Lex, and you can't --"

"Clark. Let me go."

"Lex --"

"If you let me go now, we can forget this ever happened, and go on about our lives --"

"Your father is dead, Lex! Jesus, stop trying to pretend it doesn't matter!"

"Of course it matters. Just like it matters that you've been lying to me for months and I've let it slide. Now. Now." Lex's eyes focus on him, sudden and harsh and dryer than ever. "Get the fuck off me, Clark."

Clark doesn't bother trying to hold in a flinch, another at Lex's humorless smile. But. "I won't."

Smile gone in a blink, back faster. "Will you break my wrists when I fight? Dislocate my shoulders? Knock me unconscious and drag me back to Little House in the Motherfucking Cornfield so Ma can make me soup and Pa can tell me how much better off I am without a father?"

And it stings, but (a mother, a brother) this is what friendship is, isn't it? Clark shakes his head and forces himself to focus. Tries to will Lex into seeing him. Clark. His friend. "I won't hurt you."

"I will fight."

"We can go anywhere you want, Lex, but I'm not leaving and I'm not... I'm not leaving."

No warning but the flickering smile before Lex is snapping himself down, arms pulled up high and tight, nearly perpendicular to his shoulderblades and the vicious pop makes Clark let go before he can think.

Sharp gasp and Lex is turning, running hard with his right arm dangling uselessly, running, running straight at the stains, the blood, scuffing gravel --

"Lex, no!"

Clark runs after at human speed, sucking rank, wet air and seriously considering scrapping secrecy when Lex stumbles, flails on the edge of falling.

Obviously off-balance, head tilted to the sky, left arm grasping right and oh fuck Jesus yanking --

Sharply swallowed scream and Lex takes off again, strides lengthening, evening. Natural runner and he never even looks at the blood, running further into the country and away from everything but distant Metropolis.

"Lex, stop!"

And Clark knows, knows he can outrun Lex, but this, ah God, doesn't want to just tackle him. Doesn't want to be the one to... and he isn't sure what it is that's stopping him, but he just keeps running.

At the very least, Lex will tire before he does.

Still, he nearly runs into him. Lex is standing, rigid and staring and still at the side of the road. Staring into the fog and breathing only a little hard.


Choked sound, something like a sob, and Clark can't hesitate. Wraps his arms around Lex's waist and hauls him back against his body, burying his face in Lex's neck and stroking his chest.

Another sob.


"Oh, Lex..."

And Lex is... laughing. Great hoarse whoops of laughter that shake Lex's whole body, and it's not like he's heard Lex laugh all that often, and never uncontrolled, but this is...

This is Lex, head thrown back on Clark's shoulder, hands pulling and squeezing at Clark's forearms, screaming laughter to the sky like something broken.

And then just screaming, each shuddery inhalation making Clark tense and wait for the sound of it, for the way the fog both muffles and amplifies and Clark can't do anything but cry.

And hold Lex until he's silent.

Until he's ready to walk back.

It's edging on night when they get to the castle, an unspoken compromise between them -- Lex makes his phone calls and sets up his meetings and dictates the sort of unconsciously appropriate press release that makes Clark's gut roil.

And Clark stays as close as he can, after calling home just long enough to let his parents know what's going on.

The servants are even more absent than usual, the castle precisely the sort of tomb to make Clark reconsider trying to drag Lex back to the farm.

How stupid was he to think that he could possibly make a difference against... this? Doesn't even know whether he should or how he could encourage Lex to ease up on the brandy.

It doesn't dull his eyes any. It doesn't slow the flex and work of muscle just beneath the skin.

Clark feels very young, and very lucky, and very stupid, and very, very scared.

Lex stares at the television, some movie Clark can't remember the name of on instead of the news reports that Lex had kept changing the station to.

Lex hadn't fought Clark on the movie issue.

Lex hasn't said anything to Clark since they've gotten here, beyond asking him if he needed anything. He'd thought about saying something along the lines of "you being okay," but couldn't even come close to making himself say it.

And now he's on the big, soft couch and Lex is on the big, soft chair, and the only light is the endless television flicker and Lionel Luthor is dead.

Or... no. Lex's dad is dead.

Or maybe both.

Does Lex know it's both? Does it make a difference?

Something of a jolt when he looks up and realizes that Lex is staring at him, hardly blinking.

Just... staring.


"You should go home, Clark." His voice is hoarse from. From earlier.

"My parents know where I am."

Fluttered blinks and Lex looks down for a moment. "You should go home anyway."

"You shouldn't be alone."

"Joachim is here, and I believe his mother is visiting..." Voice so calm and so full of shit.

"You know that isn't what I mean, Lex."

"I... Clark."

Nothing to do but move to Lex, kneel next to the chair and try to encourage him to look at something other than the carpeting with body language. Clark has the strong suspicion he looks ridiculous. He doesn't know what else to do. "I won't --"

"Please, Clark. I'm asking you to leave."


Soft, shocked laugh. "Please tell me you didn't just ask that question."

"I thought you didn't like it when I lied to you..." Clark tries on a rueful smile.

"Clark --"

"Look, Lex. I know you. I know you're really attached to the idea that no one can see you hurting, but... it's better this way. When. When you're not alone."

Lex's mouth twisted in the flickering shadows. "Didn't you get enough Luthor pain out... out on the road? Didn't I cry enough for you?"

"Fuck, Lex, don't do this. I know this is hard, but I really need you to remember who you're talking to here. It's... it's me, okay? I'm your friend, and I... I care about you a lot, and the last thing I want is for you to hurt alone." Clark swallows, a dry click that makes him wish he hadn't refused a drink.

Reaches out slowly, tentatively for Lex's knee and cups the warm, solid cap of it. There are curves on Lex, if you know where to touch.

Clark shivers inside and tries to figure out a quick, easy reason for that, something to let him push the question aside until he has more time for it, but Lex's hand is in his hair and there is no time.

Just... contact. Absolutely necessary contact, and some small but very insistent part of Clark wants him to focus on finding a moderately respectable way to wrap as much of himself as possible around Lex, to hold him and hold him until Lex gave up and accepted it.

Clark rests his head on Lex's thigh instead, some vague instinct telling him this might be easier on them both. To let Lex be the one who chooses to touch, for Clark to be the one who is touched. Frustrating and rueful, too, in the way he suspects they'll never be able to laugh about, even though they should. Someday.

Lex pets him slowly, hesitantly at first. A pause at his cheek, another at his throat. Clark is reasonably sure Lex is asking permission, but can't think of anything to say that wouldn't break the moment.

Settles for shifting into every touch as much as possible, scooting a little closer every time Lex seems to relax a little. It's a game, and Clark doesn't know if it's a stupid one or not.

It's a necessary one, though. Some kind of relief in being connected to Lex, in being here for him, and offering the only thing he can.

More words he can't say out loud, another compromise in the way he strokes Lex's knee instead, in the way he turns his head just enough that Lex's fingers brush his mouth.

A kiss of circumstance, but Lex is less hesitant now. A firmer comb through his hair, heavier touch on his cheek and throat. Clark hmms a little at the back of his throat. "Lex."

And Lex freezes, starts to pull away. "I'm sorry, I --"

Clark winces, looks up to find Lex staring into the distance again. Squeezes Lex's knee again. "No, it's okay. I was just... I was just going to say it feels good."

Small, shocking smile. "You'd do just about anything to comfort me, wouldn't you? Whether I want to be comforted or not."

Clark grins ruefully. "Well... it's not much of a hardship to sit around watching movies while getting petted, Lex."

Hand on his face, more callused than his own and almost as big. Lex brushes his thumb along Clark's cheekbone. "Is that what this is? What people do when... when they need? Hug and cuddle and touch until it's all better?"

And Clark knows enough now to know that Lex is only half-mocking, that the mockery has more to do with everything Lex doesn't want to show than anything else. "Nothing makes it all better, Lex. C'mon, you know that." Strokes Lex's thigh before he can think better or worse of it, and Lex is tilting his head up.

Serious as it should be, but maybe in the wrong way?

It's... intimate. Clark doesn't mind, though he wishes he had a better idea of what he's supposed to do. "I just want to be here for you, Lex."

"Because you're my friend." It isn't quite a question.

Can't hold back a frown, because Lex is right, but... he also isn't. It's more than that, or maybe less. Clark can't imagine wanting to be anywhere but here, right now, and he suspects there's more than one thing he doesn't want to think about behind that. "Because I can be. And because I don't think I'd get much done if I left you here." Close enough to the truth. Maybe.

"You have a martyr complex that would frustrate a nun, Clark."

"This isn't about being a martyr!"

And Lex pulls his hand away, reaches for his glass. "No?"

"Christ, Lex. If it's this hard to hug you --" Clark cuts himself off, biting his lip and trying to tell himself he doesn't really know what he was going to say.

"I don't think it's hard for you to hug me at all. You're certainly strong enough..."

And is it fucked up that something like that counted as a relief? "Yeah, and you're about as huggable as a cactus on Miracle Gro."

Lex snorts. "I don't see you bleeding."

"Flannel absorbs like nobody's business, Lex." Tries another smile and gets a small, real one in return.

"Clark... I don't want to push you away --"

Kneels up and grabs Lex's shoulders, noting not-entirely-absently the way Lex *doesn't* wince. Stroking with his thumbs. "So don't. I'm here, Lex, Jesus, use me."

Choked laugh. "You... make a hell of a case, Clark --"

"Good, so listen to me --"

"But I don't..." And Lex puts the glass back down, scrubbing a hand over his scalp and flicking his glance over the whole of the room, either seeing nothing or everything.

Clark squeezes a little. "You don't what, Lex? Tell me."

Sharp inhale. "I don't know how to do this. Christ, don't you get that, yet?"

Clark tamps down the irritation as best he can. Easy enough with the image of Lionel's last look of surprise, one eye bright red from whatever horrible thing had happened inside his brain before he died and no, Jesus, no. "Lex. Just let me show you. Please."

And Lex still isn't looking at him, but he doesn't resist when Clark pulls him to the floor, when Clark ignores the thumping of his own heart to arrange Lex in front of him, between his legs. When Clark wraps his arms around Lex's waist and pulls him close. So good.

So right.

Back to Lex's chair and endless movie going on and on, just loud enough to cover small sounds. Quiet enough that Clark has no trouble focusing on anything but the man in his arms.

"Admit it, you're a giant teddy bear."

"I knew you had secret hair issues."

Something wonderful, something breaking to feel Lex's laughter more than hear it, and Clark settles until he can get as much contact as possible, nuzzling Lex's scalp when he leans back. Thinks about doing it again when it makes Lex sigh.

He wants this to be good for Lex, because... because it's right for it to be good. Everyone needs someone to hold, right?

Not the whole truth, and he's getting so tired of lying to himself. To everyone.

If it's good for Lex, then he can do this anytime he wants to, maybe. He wouldn't have to wait and watch for Lex to put down those invisible shields he wears, or maybe Lex would just never wear them around him.

And that would be... God, it would mean so much, and he feels a little disloyal for that, because he has friends, good friends, but it had to be okay that this meant more. That Lex would give this to him, along with everything else. All the immaterial things his parents couldn't object to, that Clark had spent so much time not noticing.

Now, though... who else would Lex allow this with?

Clark doesn't feel quite so young anymore. Or, he does, but it's not as important as the warmth inside, and the absolute need to get this right.

Strokes Lex's chest and stomach, frowning a little at the feel of the rumpled shirt. Imperfection and Lex didn't go together, not when it came to things like clothes. Maybe part of what made it harder for Lex to give in to this?

"I won't let you go," he says, and Lex stiffens once before relaxing.

"Clark, you have no idea --"

"So give me one."

"Shouldn't challenge a man when he's down, Clark." Lex's voice is amused, low.

"Oh, I..."

"You never know what he'll do." Hand on Clark's thigh, warm and heavy and strong.

Clark squeezes Lex closer obligingly, but it makes Lex hiss. Restless again, though he doesn't move away. Turns his face to Clark's throat and breathes, slow and deep. Warm skin, now, but just as sleek. So many words Clark wants to say, blurt out in a rush and run away screaming and he *can't*. Strokes Lex's scalp instead. "Do you want to talk?"

"About my father? No. I think I did enough of that when he was. Alive."


"God, don't... don't fucking scold me, Clark. Just... give me this. You want me to use you? Fine. Let me pretend you being this close has nothing to do with anything bleak and and -- fuck." Lex stiff in his arms again, very obviously waiting for Clark to let him go. Shaking just a little.

Clark squeezes Lex, pulls him back. Holds him there until he relaxes again. "We can do anything you want, Lex, I promise, I won't let you go."

Laugh choked on a sob. "Don't. Oh, God, Clark, please don't. I *can't*."

"Please, Lex, let me be here for you, I want... God, I just want this so bad." And Lex is shaking in his arms, shaking like he's freezing, or about to just lose it and Clark has to hold him closer, has to fold his legs up around Lex's own and kiss his scalp. Real kisses, if dry ones.

He can't say the words, but he can do this, can listen to Lex call his name and feel Lex move against him, with him, and it's not as much of a surprise as it should be when he finds Lex's mouth with his own, or Lex finds his. It's nothing but heat and acid sweetness and Lex turning in his arms, holding Clark's head still and kissing him so hard and hot and wet.

"So good, Lex, I've wanted please --"

Lex makes a noise like a wounded animal and kisses him again. Again. Harder every time and Clark feels Lex's lip split, tastes his blood and tries to make things gentler, but Lex won't allow it.

Hands at his throat now, unbuttoning Clark's flannel clumsily and then just ripping it, making Clark gasp and Lex's tongue is ruthless. Fucking into his mouth over and over and his hands are all over him. Nails scraping down Clark's chest through the t-shirt, down to his waist to pet him and scratch him more, tugging at Clark's t-shirt and only pulling back long enough to get it up over his head and then.


Lex. Eyes wild and hungry and desperate and so bleak. Shaking hands and bruised mouth and an unspoken dare for Clark to stop him. Reject him.

And a part of Clark is screaming for him to do just that, to do anything but this now, but Lex.

Lex is right there.

Wanting him, or at least wanting something close to what Clark can give. "Anything," he says again, and snatches Lex's hand when he moves to back away.

Places it over his crotch and presses down, bucks up into the pressure. "Oh God, Clark -- you..."

"Yes," and that's all he has time to get out before Lex is on him again, hands all over and every kiss stings like a bite, like something electric and deadly. Clark's hands feel stupid, clumsy on Lex's back, but Lex pushes back into every touch, encouraging with his body, tearing his own shirt off and oh, God, skin.

Silky hot and so smooth under his hands, muscles shifting just beneath the skin in the kind of restlessness he doesn't have to worry about. It's okay to have this, to give themselves this, and Lex feels so good.

Pushing against him sliding them together, chest to chest and --

"More, Clark, I need --" Lex shakes his head, rolls Clark over onto his back and kisses his way down his chest, quick but weirdly not perfunctory. Something Lex had obviously wanted to do, but doesn't have time right now to do well. Clark can understand.

Laughs to himself a little helplessly and pets Lex's cheek once, again. Gets his fingers sucked in fast and deep for a heart-stopping moment and then Lex is working on his jeans. Getting them open, pushing him down, taking him out and -- "Lex!"

Swallowing him whole. Face pressed to Clark's belly and hands on his hips, squeezing and lifting until Clark can't help thrusting, fucking his way into Lex's tight, hot throat and grabbing for the carpet to keep from holding his head.

Too many shocks to take, too many things to feel, and Clark thinks his brain is lagging, knows it is when he realizes that he has no words for how good this feels, how much he needs Lex to keep doing exactly what he's doing for just a few more minutes, seconds, God.

Hears himself moaning over the wet sounds, the good sounds of Lex's mouth on his cock, and he'd barely gotten around to letting himself picture this when he was jerking off, when he was just so close, so close, and he thinks he might be babbling, might be losing his mind to this.

"Lex --" It's the only word he can remember how to form, the only important thing in the world. His palms ache with the need to just touch him, to stroke and hold and thank him for this... God, this searing incredible energy in him and oh, he loves, he loves so much.

Comes gasping, arching up and up into Lex's sweet throat before slamming back down to the floor. Lex follows him, sucking him down, milking him for every last drop and Clark is whimpering but he can't make himself push Lex away.

Turns his face into the carpet and gasps, begging little noises that don't fade until Lex is kissing him again. Just as hard as before, his tongue slick with Clark's come. And Lex and brandy and sex... too much. Clark groans into the kiss and wraps his arms around Lex. Holds him close, spreading his legs to get closer still and --

"Too good, Clark, you're too good --"

"Oh, Lex, you're so hard..."

Breathy laugh. "Surprise..."

"You have to tell me what you want. What you want me to do. I don't... I've never..."

"God, Clark, you..."

Pulls Lex into another kiss and holds him there, tries to will Lex into looking at him. "Tell me."

Lex doesn't open his eyes for long, silent moments. "Come to bed with me."

Sweet, stupid shock of it all through him, and the only possible answer is yes. Licks his lips and watches Lex watching him and it's good to be like this, pressed down and held and holding. Holding Lex to him until enough of his brain is back for him to stand.

Does up his fly with shaking fingers that Lex grabs, kisses and nuzzles before letting them go.

Up dimly lit stairs and Clark wants to be holding Lex again. Only the thought of Lex's bed keeping him from just grabbing Lex on the landing and wrapping himself around him. Lex's need something palpable, psychic and calling to his own. He can have this, he can be this for Lex, this want Clark already knows he won't let Lex deny when the alcohol wears off, or the grief.

It should be more frightening than it is, he thinks, but the idea is fleeting. Unimportant with Lex undoing his belt and tossing it across the room. Back turned and Clark can't decide if that's a kindness or not.

Pale skin in moonlight and all the scars are invisible this way.

Clark can be invisible, too.

He doesn't want to be.

Toes off his boots and moves to the bed, just in front and to the side of Lex. He wants Lex to see him stripping. Socks, pants, shorts. Everything. Wants Lex to know he's here for this. Everything. Anything.

Looks up to find Lex absolutely still. Watching him, hands twitching at his sides, fly just barely undone. Clark watches Lex's face as he reaches out, as he helps Lex take the rest of his clothes off. Fine wool pants and silk boxers that make him smile even as his hands can't seem to stop petting them.

Long, lean muscle and hard cock and Clark knows his mouth is open but can't quite seem to figure out what he should do about that. Lex finally sits beside him, so much skin right there. Head bent and legs crossed, tugging his socks off and leaving them where they fall.

There's a stillness in him now, a kind of slowing that makes something hurt inside Clark. Instinct wants him to be holding Lex again, and Clark sees no reason to deny it. Wraps one arm somewhat awkwardly around Lex's chest and hauls them both up on the bed, watching Lex's fingers dance over his bicep, his expression calculating and unfocused for long moments until he finally looks into Clark's eyes.

"Yes, I am," he says, and Lex nods. Too many expressions in his eyes for Clark to puzzle out.

"There are worse things I could've given up for your secrets, Clark." Black amusement.

"No, Lex, I --"

"Don't. Don't tell me your telling me now has nothing to do with pity."

"Christ, I was waiting..." Trails off helplessly.

"Waiting for what, Clark?"

"Okay, Lex, you tell me when's the best time to tell your best friend, the guy you want to have sex with, that you're an alien with superpowers. 'Oh, hey, you know that dumbass comic book you're obsessed with? Well, I've got something to tell you...'" Wants to pull away and wants to just press Lex down into the too-soft mattress and make him hear him. Understand.

But Lex is just staring at him.

"Well? Got any good answers? Because I'd love to hear them."


"Yeah, Lex. Alien. Spaceship in the goddamn storm cellar and waiting for the rest of my people to come down and start the colonization process. If they haven't already."


"What? No! Or... I mean... shit, Lex, I have no idea. That's kind of the point. If I could just say, 'oh, hey, yeah, I'm superstrong, or, oh, yeah, Lex, when did you break your tibia, because that's a nasty looking fracture you've got there,' things would be a lot easier. Instead... I don't know, okay? It's something new practically every day and I didn't ask for any of it and... God. You are so fucking good at making people focus on anything but you, aren't you?"


Clark laughs helplessly and buries his face in his hands. Naked, in Lex's bed, and they're talking about this. Scrubs his hands through his hair and looks over to find Lex staring at him with something like stunned wonder. "You wanted to know? Now you do. So can we please get back to what we were doing?"

"Would that be the interspecies sex?"

"Yes, Lex, that would be the interspecies sex. Though you seem to be in damned good shape for a guy who dislocated his own fucking shoulder a few hours ago.

"If you shut up and let me hold you I promise to tell my leaders not to torch Metropolis." Grins down at Lex and gets a grin in return that lasts just long enough to let Clark breathe.

Fades slowly, almost crumbling on Lex's face and yeah, this is what happens when people die. No one's ever supposed to smile, or laugh, but they do anyway, and then they feel like complete and utter shit about it. At least, that's the way it worked when his grandmother died, and his grandmother had been...

She hadn't been anyone who made loving her complicated.

Clark rolls closer to Lex and wraps a tentative arm around him. Slow enough for Lex to stop him, just in case he was really freaking about the whole alien thing. God. One more thing to worry about for the morning after, and is he really this selfish? Shakes his head at himself and squeezes Lex hard for a moment.

"You're allowed to laugh at things, you know. It doesn't make you... whatever you're thinking it does."

Lex turns away, mouth twisting. "My father would be proud."

"C'mon, Lex, we know it isn't like that."

"Clark... Clark." Lex's hand on his, still. "Do you ever have those moments where you realize that you don't know jack shit about anything?"

"You mean other than every time I see you?"

Rueful smile. "I'm sorry. I never want to... treat you the same way I treat the rest of the world? Ah, fuck, Clark. I don't know anything. I'm only a few years older than you, and when you're my age you'll be twice as smart and you'll look back on... on all of this and wonder what the fuck you were thinking to get involved with a. With me."

"I want you. And you seemed pretty interested in me, so..."

"And you think that's enough?"

"Isn't it all we ever get?"

Lex snorts. "Jesus Christ, I hope not. God. Come here. Please. Just... come here and let me feel you... yeah. Get on top of me."


"You're the one with X-Ray vision. Don't my ribs look fine to you?"

"They've been cracked a lot, Lex."

"Yeah, well. Smallville kicks my ass on a fairly regular basis. You may have noticed, what with all the life-saving. Just... God. Yes. You're so warm. Are you always this warm?"

Settles half on top of Lex as gently as he can, bracing himself on his elbow and pushing his face into Lex's neck. "I think... it's like I can always feel the sun. Even when I can't see it."

"There's a really terrible poem in there somewhere..."

"Want me to write it?"

"No. Just... no."

"Are you sure? Because it could double as extra credit for English class."

"Clark. You said you loved me."

"I... oh." Apparently, that was out loud. "Well. I've been wanting. To say that. I mean... you don't have to --"

"You have to know you're the reason I stayed. Pissing off my father. Pissing off my father was just the gravy. I've never. There's never been anyone like you for me, Clark. And I think that must be love, right?"

Clark grins ruefully, kisses Lex's throat. Does it again when it makes him suck in a breath. "I hope so."

"I'll protect your secrets. I'll never let anyone hurt you, you have to trust me Clark, you have to believe that --"

Clark shifts just enough to catch Lex's mouth with his own, swallows Lex's moan and lets himself revel in the feel of Lex just taking his mouth. Kisses of pure desperate honesty and it's what he wants. It's what he won't give up for anything. "I believe you. I trust you."

"I've done so many things... ah, God, Clark, I feel so fucking... why can't any of this make sense?" Broken sound to Lex's voice and a different kind of acid in Lex's mouth. Lex the kind of man where tears always hurt, always burn.

I don't know, Clark thinks, but he doesn't want to say it loud. It's just too... it's better than some stupid platitude, but it still isn't any good. Not as good as kissing salt off Lex's cheeks and putting just a little more weight on. Keeping Lex still, safe between Clark and the mattress, where he can be kissed and stroked and loved in a way Clark doesn't have to trip over with his idiot tongue.

Strokes down Lex's chest, again just to feel him. Lex is so lean, so hard and silky and male and Clark doesn't want to do anything that would take him away from this. Watches Lex's face and lets his hand slip lower. He's not as hard as he was, but he's still so amazingly real against Clark's palm.

Firm and hot and vulnerable.


"Do you want me to keep doing this? Or... I mean we don't have to, but I'd like to. I'd like to suck you, Lex. And --"

Hard, strong hand on his face and Lex's eyes are open. Heated and dark. "No. I want to see your face. Just... just keep looking at me."

And that's... so not difficult at all. Shifts enough to get an easier angle and strokes and squeezes and watches. Lex's eyes so open, so much sadness and want and the kind of love that Clark can't help but believe in.

Needs it the way his grandmother needed the church, maybe, roots and rain and Clark feels so full. Moans at the feel of Lex thickening, lengthening in his hand and has to look. Has to see Lex's cock disappearing into his fist, peeking out wet and shiny.

Lex's hands on him, one hand squeezing his shoulder and the other wrapped loosely around his neck, flexing every time Clark twists, just a little.

"Clark, oh Clark, please..."

Looks up hungrily and Lex is gasping, mouth open, each breath catching on a rough, low note deep in his chest. Helpless moan that Clark's helpless not to echo. "You're so incredible, Lex. So sexy and I've dreamed this. Fantasized..."

Lex bites his swollen lip, squeezes Clark's shoulder and starts to pump into Clark's fist.

Fucking his hand. Clark makes a noise he doesn't want to classify and kisses Lex hard, sucks his bottom lip and tastes more blood but Lex doesn't seem to mind. "Do you want to know what I thought about?"

Lex's head whips back and forth on the pillow, eyes closed for long moments and his cock pulses in Clark's hand. Wet. So slick and the sound of it. Nothing he'd ever really thought he'd hear outside of his own bed.

"I wanted it. Just like this. Watching you while I... while I jerked you off --"

"Clark, yes --" Eyes open so wide, so wondering and open and Clark doesn't want to blink, doesn't want to miss a moment.

Speeds his hand and wants to be everything for Lex in a scary, cliff-diving way that he doesn't think he can survive. Everything he can do for Lex, everything he can be and it's close enough to touch. Like leaning hard against a paper wall to be like this, to be here with Lex so open for him, so accepting and Clark wants to cry and he wants to kiss Lex until he runs out of breath, until it kills them both --

"Oh God --!"

And it's only the feel of Lex coming all over his hand that tells Clark that he's been speaking aloud.

But he can't find shame for that. Only need. Drops kisses all over Lex's face, wiping his hand on the coverlet and rolling them on their sides. Slips his thigh between Lex's and hauls him close, swallowing breathless laughter with more kisses. More.


Pulls back just enough to be able to see Lex across the pillow, eyes only just open, tiny smile on his lips. And this is beauty for him now. Maybe always was.

"You know, Clark..."


"As much as I like being tangled like this, someone is going to have to turn off the light."

Turn off the light. He's going to stay. Lex isn't going to fight him on staying. Clark knows he's grinning like the village idiot and he absolutely doesn't care. "Are you sure I can't just throw something at the lamp and hope it breaks?"

"Well, I wasn't planning on ending the evening by setting my bedroom on fire, but never let it be said that I'm not adaptable..." Reaches past Clark and nabs a pillow. "Please. Destroy my antiques at will."

Clark snorts and whacks Lex with the pillow gently. "Fine, I'll turn off the lamp the rational, non-destructive way." Eases away from Lex as slowly as he can, wanting every inch of skin and getting quite a bit as he reaches over him.

"Mm. So warm..."

Jerks when Lex licks him and nearly smashes the lamp anyway. He doesn't mind that, either.

The darkness is the sudden, absolute kind you only get when you've gotten accustomed to dimness, and it's awkward to get back into position without elbowing Lex too many times -- "Sorry."

Brief chuckle. "Next time *I'll* get the light."

"Incompetence is its own reward, Lex."

Something like a purr as Lex throws his leg over Clark's. "I'll take your word for it."

"God, you feel so good..." Deep, companionable silence in the dark, and Clark is close to dozing before Lex says anything else.

"I'm not sure how I'll let you leave in the morning, Clark." The blank voice he uses when he's being more serious than he wants to be.

"I'll stay as long as you want me to."

"Shh. No tempting the morally compromised. It's just bad policy." Hand in Clark's hair, stroking slowly. Soothing.

"I mean it."

"Ah, God, Clark..."

"Lex --"

"I know you do. I know. And this is me, not saying anything about all the reasons why me kidnapping you is a bad idea."

Can't hold back a shiver at the thought. Never having to leave, never having to give this up, never letting anything else matter... some sweet and terrible mix of horror and need. I love you, he thinks, and turns his head up to press a kiss to Lex's wrist, soft and lingering. "I won't let you go."

Lex stiffens for a moment, relaxes with a long exhale. "And I won't run."

It's enough.


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