Cold Hands
By Gwendolen

Cold hands on his warm stomach wake Clark. The familiar weight of Lex presses against his back, arms tight around him, and those cold hands underneath the covers, pulling him tighter into Lex' embrace.

Wrapping his own hands around the cold ones, Clark just holds on. Lex is silent even though he has to know that Clark is awake. Clark can feel the tension in his lover's body.

The day was long.

He doesn't try to speak. There's no need to. The silence and warmth are enough. Some nights are like this.

Soft lips brush against Clark's nape, a gentle recognition of the comfort offered. No other version of thanks necessary. Some things are understood without words or grand gestures.

Slowly the tension bleeds out of Lex, and he begins to relax, the tightness of his embrace easing. He curls against Clark's back, his breathing deepening until it settles in the regular rhythm of sleep.

Clark still holds him close.

Lex' hands on his stomach are warm now.