Come Home

by armistice


Notes: (Re-posted) First fanfiction story. Sincere apologies to the administrators. I am in complete denial of the canon. Lex is an angel. That is all.

Music: R.E.M. - "Country Feedback"

Summary: This has gone on for far too long...


"It's me." These words would have been painful to speak once.

"I know." Voice drowsy and indulgent.

Clark Kent cradles the battered cell phone to his ear. A peal of thunder roars above him. The rain pelts the city relentlessly. The inhabitants of Metropolis are thinking of record rainfall, but his mind is on the man he has just turned in to the police for beating his son in a drunken rage.


He had been flying back from an earthquake in California, super-hearing tuned to the frequency of his adopted city, and he happened to hear the child scream as the father slammed his head against the wall. He had barely been able to control himself. In their trashed living room he had stood over the father, body bloody from his punches as the wife cowered with her arms around the boy in the doorway. He'd felt such guilt that he had not been able to be there sooner, and such anger at the man. His fist had been poised to smash the man's face in. He was conscious that one more punch could have killed the man. His rage shocked him and he'd stumbled backward, shaking. After leaving the police station, he'd gone home... gone to his *apartment* and changed. As he'd stood at the window, his eyes went automatically to the lights in the penthouse. And he'd wondered what he was doing here.


So he makes this call. An unnecessary formality now, maybe. But considering their past, he's afraid to take this for granted. He thinks about their dark time; lies, cover-ups and quicksand conversations. Closes his eyes and remembers...


Lex and his lawyers were responding to a story in the *Daily Planet* about his involvement in a huge organized crime score. Lois had been proud of it, her only real connection between Lex and the syndicate. It was revealed after publication that Lex was helping the police with their investigation. Lex's lawyers were talking litigation.


Clark hadn't meant to speak, hadn't meant to show up in Lex's hotel room but Lex's glare at the press conference had turned him into that 16-year-old boy again, caught in a desperate lie and knowing it. He finds himself bringing up the past while Lex stands there, livid.

Then Lex deliberately speaks the words he knows will hurt the most. "We used to be friends. That stopped a long time ago, *Kent*."

But Clark hears a tremor in his voice. He *feels* longing communicated in that tremor, and it instigates him.

Two steps and Clark is flush against the object of his longing, holding a rigid Lex in his desperate embrace.

Tries to articulate his grief and regret by physically closing the distance between them. Lex inhales sharply.

Clark cannot let go, knows if he does he'll never get this moment back.

Finds the courage somewhere inside to rest his forehead on Lex's shoulder. Awaits a rejection that does not come. Instead, Lex's arms come around him. Their eyes lock as Clark touches his fingertip to the scar marking Lex's lip before replacing it with his mouth. He rubs gently against Lex, who opens his mouth, initiating their first kiss. Lex's tongue traces his lips before it slides into his mouth.

With the first stroke of Lex's tongue against his, something *unfolds* in Clark and he breaks the kiss. Presses his face against Lex's neck. Whispers, voice unsteady: "I'm sorry. *God*, Lex. I-"

Lex seems startled. "Oh, God. I... I am, too." His breathing is ragged "It's okay. It'll be okay." He cups Clark's face in his hands and presses a fierce kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Then Lex is undressing Clark, and pushing against him until he falls back onto the bed. Clark tugs at Lex's clothes and after some fumbling they're both naked and flushed. Lex leans over Clark, kissing him slow and deep, like they're old hands at this.

He's worshipped this body with his eyes for so long. Clark longs to explore Lex with a fervor that would put Magellan to shame. Finds a tight constellation of freckles near Lex's nipple and stops, fights his urgency long enough to stroke the spot with his tongue.

Lex's hand tightens on his shoulder as he moves down. Takes Lex, first in his hand, then in his mouth. Clark sucks the head of Lex's cock eliciting a hiss from Lex. The sound urges him on, and Clark is just beginning to suck Lex's cock in earnest when Lex cups his cheek. Tugs at Clark gently, then with some force, to maneuver them so that Lex is astride him.

Clark is surprised, until he realizes that Lex's thighs are spread. He's above him there, just so... *open*, and Clark feels just so fucking *grateful* that he's allowed this. He presses two saliva-slicked fingers against Lex, ignoring the awkward angle, rubbing his opening before sliding the digits in, widening Lex for his entrance. Lex throws his head back. Pushes down as Clark pushes his length past the tight ring of muscle, and a moan escapes from his contorted lips.

Clark does not stop until he is buried, hip-deep in Lex.

Accepted within his flesh.

Lex arcs forward, a hand on either side of Clark's head, and writhes against him. Clark's hips buck, and a moan is torn from his lips. He thrusts upwards, experimentally at first, then with sure strokes. Lex groans, and Clark is hyper-aware of the fact that Lex is impaled on his cock, riding him as he thrusts. Lex's eyes are shut tight as Clark reaches out to wrap his hand around his cock, pumping Lex as he would himself.

They're both moaning now; Clark giving Lex everything he has, Lex grinding against Clark and pumping into his fist. Clark's moans are punctuated by cries of "Lex" and "Oh God" and "Please". He feels the force building inside him, and fights to hold back until he feels Lex stiffen before gasping and spurting over Clark's belly and chest. The orgasm hits them *both* like Lex's car going sixty.

When Lex comes he feels Clark erupting inside him, filling him. Lex mouths his name as he shudders, and collapses onto him, liquid. Clark presses his mouth to Lex's, trying to express seven years of concealed desire, of dreaming of the feel of skin and the arc of body, in his kiss.

He moans when Lex finally pulls away, only to gather Clark in a possessive embrace.

Anchoring him there.

He murmurs Clark's name his name against his skin and Clark finds he can laugh. He's been 'Kent' or 'Superman' or just *nothing* for so long...

"Hey, Lex?"

"Yes?"

"Say it again."

Lex laughs softly. "*Make me*."


"What's going on? Clark?"

He smiles. "Say it again."

A laugh on the other end, and then: "Come home... *Clark*."

1 7 . 0 9 . 0 4 - 1 9 . 0 9 . 0 4



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