Hymns of You

by Signe

A./N. The poem quoted is 'To You' by Walt Whitman.
Betas: Many thanks to Annie Grayston and Reetchick for betaing this so promptly.

Whoever you are, I fear you are walking the walks of dreams

"Who are you?"

"You know the answer."

"Do I?"

"Yes, Lex. I'm your friend, your best friend, your lover."

"Will you be here in the morning?"

"No, but that doesn't make this a dream."

"How can we be sure it's real?"

"Dreams won't make you ache and leave bruises like this." Clark's finger pads skimmed gently over his aches, along the thigh muscles that had been clamped tightly around Clark for what felt like hours or maybe seconds, across his narrow shoulders bearing purple-black shadows of fingers, back down to his turgid penis that hurt from the desire to come just one more time, even though he was spent.

"My dreams always make me ache." Lex kept self-pity at bay; just stating a fact.

"These aches are different. You'll feel them in the morning and know that I made each one. You'll sit at your office desk and smile, your secretive smile, and people will wonder why, but only you and I will know."

"You'll have to come by after school so I can smile at you, and know you understand."

"I will."

Lex believed him. He'd never trusted before, but now he was trusting in a dream, and he had to be certain that he would never wake up from it.

I fear these supposed realities are to melt from under your feet and hands

"Did we make this happen, by wanting it?" Clark raised himself on one elbow as he asked, still shy and uncertain, an abandoned puppy sniffing out his new home, not sure if he'd be kicked out or petted and loved.

"Oh yes." Clark was thrilled by the certainty in Lex's voice.

"I sometimes wonder if the meteor rocks--."

"They do make wishes come true."

"I wished this for so long, you and me, even though I didn't understand the reality, didn't really know what I was wishing for." Clark leaned over and touched, a questing, querying touch, as though the flesh under his hand might melt away. He wanted to memorize, fill himself to the brim with Lex, so that nothing could ever draw it all out of him, not time or friends or foes.

Even now your features, joys, speech, house, trade, manners, troubles, follies, costume, crime, dissipate away from you

"I've done things, you know." Lex had to say this, yet somehow he sounded matter-of-fact.

"I know."

Nave Clark, so accepting. He didn't understand. "Bad things, foolish things, even criminal things, things you would despise me for."

"And you've done wonderful things, things that make me proud to say I'm your friend. You've stood in front of a man with a gun for me, braved your nightmares to rescue me before you even knew me. The bad doesn't have to stay with you, you can let go of it."

"It's not that easy. I can't just slough my character flaws or wipe everybody's memories of my crimes, like a snake shedding its skin. They're deep inside me. I'm not sure even I know all of them."

"Then let me in, and I'll push them out."

"I almost believe you can." A smile flickered across Lex's face, as though a passing beam of joy had lit it up.

Your true soul and body appear before me

"You know everything now."

Clark felt more naked now than he had when Lex had first stripped him. He was skinless and exposed. It should have been scary; he'd broken the family rule, in a far greater way than he had with Pete, and should have been paying the penalty. He should have felt more alien now he'd said the word out loud. Instead he had Lex peering up at him as though he was X-raying his soul and finding it worthy. And that should have been scary too, yet he simply felt warm, relieved, honest at last.

"I always knew. But now it's real. The truth won't come between us like the lies did."

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem

Lex didn't understand, and that was unacceptable. He'd never felt this degree of anything other than anger or lust or competition.

Now he felt protective and loving and - even more unbelievable - a need that had to be filled. He wanted to write sonnets extolling the beauty of the form beside him, make words and phrases that would capture the essence of Clark. He wanted more than he could even start to contemplate, things he had no vocabulary for. In some strange manner it made him feel like a child learning to navigate the world on wobbly legs, or a blind man who'd been given sight and had to make sense of the shapes and colors around him. He wanted to praise and glorify the giver of his sight, the hand leading him into the world.

Instead, he offered what he could. He turned over and knelt, presented himself freely, allowed his body to be breached and taken.

I whisper with my lips close to your ear

Lex kneeling under him, Clark held him up in the cradle of his arms as he pounded into him, balls slapping lewdly, loud in the large room.

He knew what it felt like now, to be filled by another man, and at last he could give that back to Lex. He wanted whimpers from Lex, he wanted to make him scream because he couldn't bite his tongue hard enough to keep it in. He wanted Lex to beg for the grip of his hand on his beautiful cock. He whispered all this to Lex, his tongue and inhibitions loosened beyond his imagination.

Lex gulped.

I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you

It was love. All these crazy, muddled, too-vivid emotions whirling tornado strong inside him. They made up love.

He'd loved before. His mother and brother, Pamela, the kitten he'd had for two days when he was six, before his asthma had started and provided the excuse his father needed to get rid of it. But they were a soft kind of love. The sort that hurts, but doesn't kill, when it loses or is lost. The sort that leaves gentle memories that act as a buffer on a bad day.

This, this was different. Better, scarier, and he hoped it would always be as gut-wrenchingly painful as this moment. Because he could take that pain from Clark, all he could get of it. It was spiky love that impaled him and felt so good that he would always beg for more. Lex, a man who'd never begged before.

Oh, I have been dilatory and dumb, I should have made my way straight to you long ago

Wasted times, years they'd had as simple friends, when this could have been theirs. Clark felt a fool, to have hunted for this in grounds where it wasn't to be found. He laughed at the idea that Lana could have made him feel any fraction of this. He didn't need sweetness, or petal soft skin, or milky breath. He needed this strength, lean muscles and determined soul, this breath tinged with the whiskey drinking Clark had interrupted a whole portion of his life ago.

He was molded to Lex now. His hand curved up and down Lex's cock, trying to mimic the tightness around his own, the heat and pulse of life he felt surrounding him. A drop of sweat fell from his forehead, in slow motion, landing and sliding down Lex's back, mingling with the sweat already there. The same way they were mingled together, no separating them.

I should have babbled nothing but you, I should have chanted nothing but you

Floods of words were flowing out of Lex now. They were his own type of poem, even though they made no sense in themselves. He knew, simply knew, that Clark would understand.

Mostly it was just Clark's name. It was simple enough, just one syllable, that he could get out without taking his mind off the pleasure-pain wrenching inside him with every thrust of Clark's heavy body against his. He wondered if any other words would ever come back to him, or if he'd become a babbling idiot who only knew one word, one name.

He didn't care.

I will leave all and come and make the hymns of you

Both floated and spun and danced and writhed in the love of the other. Hymns of sacred love sang in their ears, swelling choruses they had never heard the like of before. Breathing stopped and started, randomly, almost irrelevant. It was dark but they could see more clearly than they ever had before.

None has understood you, but I understand you

Hot exhausted bodies, tangled in crumpled sheets, sticky and perfect.

"I want to tell you something, Clark." No more words followed for a long time, but Clark wasn't concerned. He knew Lex would say what he needed as soon as he could.

Eventually, "I worry I'll hurt you."

"I know you do. But you won't. Not because you can't, not because I'm invulnerable, but because we understand each other."

"Yes. That's something new."

"It feels good to be inside of you. Not just here," and Clark trailed fingers across the whirls of the hole that he'd filled earlier, "but here," as he laid his other hand on Lex's forehead.

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