by Caro

A/N: Jenn, for encouraging. Joy, for inspiring. And Bex, for holding my hand the entire time and then betaing it into shape when it was done. I floves you all.

Disclaimer: Not mine. And this one time, I'm glad for it.

Warnings: Incest

Lex is exhausted. Bone weary exhaustion from a day of besting his father, and reclaiming LexCorp. Exhausted in a way that makes him wish it wasn't too late to drive out to the farm and why was it that he'd slept better for one night on an old sofa bed at his best friend's house than he had his entire life?

But Clark is an addiction and a non-reality, just like those pills Lex used to swallow to make him sleep. A calming influence, but nothing real, nothing that lasts. Pretend for a few days, few hours, pretend he was something else other than a Luthor. And while it was a nice place to visit, Lex knows better than to linger in that place.

Instead, he trolls through the cavernous halls of the mansion, with a drink in his hand, and laughs at his father's ego. King of the Castle indeed, and god is this place ever out of place in Smallville. Just like Lex is.

Upstairs, his room, second door on the left, and Lex manages to find his way there more out of instinct than any cognizant brain function. Exhausted and the alcohol is really not doing anything more at this point, not when his brain is already several million leagues away from functioning. He slips through the door and freezes.

"Hello big brother."

"Lucas?" It's a surprise and one that he really doesn't need to deal with tonight. Not when he isn't at the top of his game, and Lucas was supposed to be miles away by now.

Lucas is lying on Lex's bed, hands folded under his head, and if anyone ever doubted the Luthor genes in this boy, they wouldn't now, not with him marking the entire room as his with just blatant body language. That's intrinsic Luthor behavior, possessing, owning, and Lucas has it down pat. Kind of makes Lex wonder about the old nature vs. nurture arguments, except that Lex doesn't really think Lucas got much in the way of nurture. His father's sociopath warnings are suddenly echoing through his head, and he's wondering if homicidal behavior is genetic too.

"Relax, I'm not here to kill you." Well, maybe families can just read each other really well. Still, it's not good to let Lucas see him shaken, despite the fact that he's family, or maybe because he's family. Lionel's taught them some interesting lessons on that subject.

He goes into the room further, sits on the foot of his bed, glass abandoned on the desk on his way over. He's taking off a shoe when Lucas sits up, slides over to him, behind him.

"I was just thinking big brother," he whispers against Lex's ear. "We really haven't had a chance to get to know each other well."

Lex freezes, shivers trickling down his spine. Lucas' breath is still moist on his ear, and there are thoughts in his head that he's not prepared to deal with.

"Lucas." He tries to find his voice but before he knows it, he's on his back, Lucas straddling him. It's wrong and he tries to convince himself of that, even as his sleep-deprived brain notices that his body seems to be responding to the physical proximity. He's being held down by hands that are none too gentle and his sore muscles ache from it, but his cock's already starting to fill.

"This is wrong," he whispers, not sure who he's trying to convince. "Lucas, stop this."

"You like it," Lucas grins, the smile twisted in the dimness of the room and shadows playing across his face. Lex has seen that smile before, on Rachel Dunleavy's face right before she drugged him. How is it that he forgot who Lucas' mother was, and God, with genetics like his, sociopath almost seems tame.

"It's still wrong," Lex argues, holding onto that train of thought. "We're...brothers."

Brothers. Half-brothers. Who've never seen each other before this week. And God, had this been last week, and had it been an anonymous club somewhere in the seedier annals of his past, Lucas would have been on his hands and knees before he could even say "Luthor."

Lucas grinds down, cock pushing against Lex's, and Lex has to bite back a moan. "Doesn't seem wrong to me Lex. Then again, my faculties for right and wrong, as you've seen, aren't all there." Twist of his hips as he says this, and Lex is moaning, arching up even as he doesn't want to. "Besides, aren't the Luthors big on Greek history? This seems like keeping with the tradition."

"The thing about history is learning when to not repeat it," Lex bites out, and really it would be a more effective message were he not humping against his brother as he says it.

"Would you like to know my history Lex?" Lucas asks, voice slow and deliberate. Lex wants to say no even as he nods, but he owes Lucas this at least. Owes it to him to listen. "You want to know what the foster care system's like, or how you learn to get by without attracting the wrong kind of attention? Or you do, until you learn that the wrong kind of attention is still at least that, attention."

"I'm sorry." And he is that. Sorry that Lucas was fathered by a bastard who didn't think twice about abandoning his son until he needed him to play in whatever game he'd set up. Sorry that Lex hadn't found him earlier, or that when he did, that he automatically played the same games with Lucas that Lionel had. His brother, and Lex's first thought hadn't been nothing more than the ten percent vote that he needed. He'd learned his Luthor lessons well, hadn't he?

"I don't need your pity."

"Then what is this about Lucas?"

Luthor smile, that cross somewhere between charming and psychotic. Lucas leans in close, warm breath on Lex's lips. "Don't you know?" he asks, teeth grazing the corner of Lex's mouth. "This is about family. I want to get to know my brother." A flick of his tongue across Lex's lips. "I thought you wanted us to get to know each other."

"Not like this," Lex whispers. Wills himself to believe it. There's a lot fucked up inside him, but not this. Please God, not this.

"You forget," Lucas breathes against his cheek. "We're blood. Blood always recognizes itself in the other." And wasn't that what all of Lex's nightmares were really about? That the blood that ran through him, tainted everything? Luthors don't build, they destroy. Why had he forgotten that lesson when he went searching for his brother?

"I'm not you."

Lucas' hands release their hold on his arms. Lex's muscles ache as he does so. There'll be bruises there tomorrow. He doesn't ask himself why he doesn't move yet, why he's not trying to push Lucas off and get him committed to the nearest mental facility.

"What makes you better, big brother? What makes you the better heir? The one our father exalts above all others?" The words are bitter venom, not matching the almost soothing strokes Lucas makes down his chest. "Did he even love my mother?"

"No." Lex shakes his head. It's a cruel truth but Lucas has been lied to enough. Lex won't lie to him anymore. "Our father doesn't know how to love, Lucas. It's not in him."

"Is it in us?" Lucas' voice sounds almost plaintive. Lex thinks that maybe, right now, he could walk out and put a bullet between Lionel's eyes.

"Yes." He tries to say it like he means it.

"You believe that don't you?" Lucas asks almost dreamily. Lex swallows, and nods but Lucas' next words leave him cold. "Is that what the farmboy tells you?"

"Leave Clark out of this."

One hand cups his groin, squeezing slightly. He arches into it. "Is this for him, Lex?" Lex chokes back a reply. "Do you tell him that he's like a little brother to you?"

Flash of anger. And it's there, fast. Hand encircling Lucas' wrist, pushing him off, but not moving away. Pushing him back into the bed, pressing that wrist down against the pillows, and Lex is on top now, pushing down against him, and it's wrong, he should stop. It's reacting in emotion and God, as much as his father spouts against it, it's a Luthor trait. Instinct to react, to hurt. To shoot the loaded gun at your own son.

"Blood knows blood," Lucas whispers, sliding against him. Bodies in friction and it's making it harder for Lex to think. Harder to react against instinct, against exhaustion, against the boy-no-man lying under him. His father did this to them. Or maybe he did. Searching for a pawn rather than a brother.

Brother. It's an abstract concept. His head tries to resolve it with the picture here, with his cock pressed against wool pants, against the heat of the body beneath him, and fails. Brothers, might as well be strangers, and yet there's familiarity in this. The rise and fall of his chest in rhythm with Lex, determination in his eyes that could have been-was-Lex four years ago.

"He's not here. He won't ever be here." Lucas is blood and he knows where to strike. "I will. I can be yours." One hand pressed against Lucas' chest, and Lex bends forward. Just one kiss, one taste, he tells himself but knows he's lost even as his lips touch Lucas'.

Soft lips against his, uncertainty almost in the touch and then they part. First stroke of his tongue against Lucas', and everything's gone. It's heat and it's a rush, and forbidden things always taste the best. Hand on the back of his neck, holding him prisoner. His own hand tightening around Lucas' wrist, the one that's still pinned down. Lucas groans underneath him, his cock rubbing against Lex's and Lex is shaking. Shaking so hard he thinks he might hurt but it's good. Lex has always liked his pleasure tinged with pain.

Rustle of linen against cotton, of wool against denim, and Lucas moves down, his mouth traveling the line of Lex's nape, teeth grazing against his collarbone, and sucking at the juncture. Lex arches up, thrusts down, not sure of anything he's doing anymore except that every move isn't nearly enough, clothes impeding, in their way, but he can't even let go long enough to undress.

This is truth, he thinks, as his brother marks him, as he feels his own mouth search along his brother's skin, tasting, knowing. Honesty in this, taking what he wants, giving in, in friction as their bodies rub together, and he's so close, right over the edge and falling. Only this time there won't be redemption. There won't be a wide-eyed angel to awaken to and Lex feels the metallic taste of defeat in the back of his throat even as he comes.

Time is frozen. His fingers clench against Lucas' wrists even tighter, leaving purplish bruises on the skin. Lucas is breathing heavily against him, his own orgasm leaving him panting wet breath against Lex's skin.

Lex bites his lip so hard he thinks it might be bleeding but he feels numb. He rolls off Lucas and collapses against the mattress. He closes his eyes, wanting desperately to hide from the truth right beside him, but it's hard when the truth is leaning forward, tasting sweat from his skin.

"Lucas. Don't," he says, but the words seem silly even to his own ears. Lucas chuckles against him and the sound makes Lex's stomach turn.

"It's alright Lex. I won't tell," He whispers and Lex can feel him sliding off the bed, standing up. "After all, if you can't trust your brother..."

The door closes behind Lucas as he leaves. Lex wonders if he should ask him where he's going. But the truth is, he doesn't want to know.

He should get changed. He should clean up. He should...

Three days ago, he'd been at Clark's, wanting nothing more than to be part of a family. Tonight, the blood that flows within him promises that he'll never be a part of anything he wants.

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