A Life, Ordinary

by Lyra Sena

Thanks to Nifra for a wonderful beta. This is for you, sweetie.

Clark wants a life, ordinary. He wants a life with Lex.

Clark knows Lex loves him. All he has to do is look at Lex. One small glance, and he knows.

He can see it in Lex's eyes, and in the way Lex tilts his head and gazes steadily, his mouth quirked upward. How he leans forward, his shoulders rising up when he inhales and the way his hands brush against his slacks, palms down, lingering slightly at the crease.

When they look at each other the air gets still - like it does right now. Clark can hear the soft whoosh of Lex's breath as he exhales. Lex smiles then, at Clark, and it's the most beautiful thing in the world. Because Lex is looking at him, at Clark, with those intense pale eyes.

There's a grin spreading across Clark's face, he can feel it, and he lets it widen. He knows his eyes are soft at the edges, and he winks, which makes Lex shake his head, amused. Lex looks away first, and rearranges the papers on his desk; pale, slender fingers rustling each page. Clark watches Lex breathe, watches the way his chest falls up and down, and the rhythm makes Clark's eyes drift shut. Makes him settle back onto the sofa and wait.

Clark doesn't want to walk over, and tug off Lex's clothes. He doesn't want to suck red wet marks across Lex's collarbone, or stretch him across the desk and blow him. He doesn't want to rub up against him until they both come, breathless and sweating.

No, Clark wants nothing more than to just lay his head in Lex's lap and let Lex stroke his hair until he falls asleep. He wants to feel Lex's fingers circling across his back while the evening news drones in the background. He wants the shift of Lex's thigh under his cheek, the wool scratching lightly against his skin. He wants to press his fingers against the smooth silk of Lex's shirt and feel Lex's heartbeat under his palm.

Perhaps Lex will walk over in a few minutes, and brush the back of his hand against Clark's cheek. Ask him if he's ready for dinner. They'll go into the dining room, and sit at opposite ends of the table. Clark will eat slowly, and glance at Lex over the centerpiece (tulips, white, Lex's favorite). The shadows from the candles will play around Lex's fingers as he lifts the fork to his mouth, and Clark will say something that makes Lex laugh. Lex will put down his fork and stand. He'll walk over to Clark, and put his hand on the back of Clark's neck as he leans down to kiss him with wine-stained lips.

Or perhaps Lex will take Clark's hand and tug him up. Lead him into the bedroom. They'll fall onto the bed, fully clothed. They won't touch, but there will be barely an inch between them. Lex will stare at him, and his eyes will shine and crinkle in the corners. He'll slide his hand up between them, still not touching, and Clark will feel the heat of Lex's arm even through their clothes. Lex will smile, again, and whisper 'I love you'. And then, then Lex will reach out, and stroke his thumb across Clark's bottom lip.

Later, they might watch a movie. Their butter-slick fingers will tangle as they reach into the bowl for popcorn, but they won't look at each other. Clark will settle against Lex, and rest his head on Lex's shoulder. An arm will drape around him, and pull him close. They'll fall asleep to the muted colors of the television splashing over them. Later, he'll wake up; a blanket over the two of them, Lex's legs twined with his. Lex will kiss him, and Clark will lick inside Lex's mouth and catch the lingering traces of salt and sleep.

Clark opens his eyes, and Lex is looking intently at the papers in front of him. He pushes his shirtsleeve up a bit before he writes, and Clark can see the blue fluid veins standing out against Lex's wrist. He watches Lex's fingers flex around the pen, and he can almost feel them - tiny whispers of air that are hot on his skin, that brush and tease and make promises.

Fingers that roam across Clark's skin - some nights soft, cautious and other nights bold and daring, but always experienced, and so passionate. Lex's hands have discovered Clark - mapping out his future with calloused thumbs, gentling the past with tender caresses. Lex's hands have learned every part of Clark. Every fear, every hope, every desire. Every part of him that wants to hide, that wants to run. Every part of him that wants to be found.

Clark looks out the window, and watches the lowering sun as it seeps orange into the night sky. He shifts, the denim of his jeans rubbing against the leather of the sofa. Lex glances over. With a roll of his shoulders, Lex is up and out of his chair moving toward Clark, slowly. He saunters over to the sofa, exaggerating the liquidsmooth sway of his hips. Casually drops against the leather, sliding down, his body one long lean trail that ends with arms, open and inviting.

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