CATEGORY: First time, Angst.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: This was my first attempt at fan fiction, or really, any creative writing at all, outside of classroom assignments. There’s much here I would change if I could do it all over again, but I’d rather not be a revisionist author, and instead, ask you to be merciful. Feedback is dearly appreciated.

DISCLAIMER: Smallville and its characters do not belong to me. I share the wicked thoughts they inspire for fun, not profit.

Clark shivers as his long legs carry him up Luthor Manor’s central staircase, impatiently taking three treads at a time. There’s coldness in the Scots-bred castle that has nothing to do with the centuries of dank and draft clinging to the stone, and refuses to be dispelled by efficient lighting and generous gas heating. Clark’s heart twists in his chest, a familiar sensation when he lets his thoughts dwell on Lex growing up in places like this. Places without human warmth.

Because however heavy the chill – the darkness that imbues Lex’s world – Clark is drawn here, not exactly against his will, but unquestionably beyond his ability to resist.

Lex Luthor, lord and master. Clark shakes his head at the incongruity. Lex is that – a man born to lead, both rich and powerful. But he’s more, has more to offer. Why do people want the easy stuff from him? Why don’t they see there’s so much more there to have.

Lex Luthor, best friend. Who by all appearances has unilaterally decided to…terminate their association? Is that how easy it could be for Lex to push him away? Clark hadn’t gotten the memo.

He hadn’t known there was a problem at all until he ran in to Lex last night at the Talon. Lex’s greeting had been perfunctory, and he hadn’t had time to “socialize.” That’s what he’d actually said, in a voice so distant Clark hadn’t known how to react, so just stood, going numb under the patented cool regard he had seen Lex turn on the more presumptuous of Smallville’s citizenry – those unwise enough to ask him a truly personal question. Or touch him. Get close to him.

His confusion and disappointment must have been plain to Lex; Clark was sure concern had clouded grey eyes before he mumbled “Goodbye, Clark,” and brushed past out the door.

Clark’s particular insecurities provided him a ready explanation: Lex had obviously grown tired of him, of his almost total inability to relate to Lex’s privileged existence, and had asked himself, as Clark always half-feared he would, why am I wasting my time on a hick high school kid?

They hadn’t spent any significant time with each other in over two weeks, but Clark hadn’t been particularly concerned. Lex just hadn’t been home the last few times Clark had made deliveries, and there hadn’t been anything pressing for them to talk about – no meteor mutants to consult on, no Lana crises since Clark had decided not to make waves for Whitney. Lex and he led very different lives after all. So different it really was surprising how much their paths crossed to begin with.

He had missed him, though, and the realization that the physical distance was intentional had hit him like a sucker gut-punch – or what he suspected a gut-punch would feel like if he were human, shocking and indescribably painful. And then he’d watched Lex dip gracefully into the driver’s seat of what late model sports car Clark couldn’t care to note, and drive away without a backward glance, leaving Clark still rooted to the spot.

Chloe had walked in and took her usual vanilla latte from his slack fingers, shooting him a quizzical look when he followed her to a quiet corner and sat down without ever saying a word. “Spill it,” she’d demanded after watching him stare into his mug for an eternity. “What’s Lana done now?”

Clark remembers he felt really surprised by that. Before considering the implications, he’d vigorously denied Lana being involved. “It was Lex. He was just so…cold to me.”

He’d looked to his friend for commiseration; what he found in her expression was shock and a dawning comprehension. And then the truth hit him with equal clarity: the probing, assessing looks, the costly gifts and indulgences, the valuable time that Lex lavished on him. It really was out of the norm, wasn’t it?

Chloe had been diplomatically non-committal in her advice, and they were both relieved when Clark suddenly remembered an errand he’d promised to run for his mom.

And that was only yesterday, and since then he’d been replaying every encounter he’d ever had with Lex again and again. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t acknowledged it sooner.

So much innuendo.

So many… looks.

Clark had long since stopped feeling uncomfortable about Lex equating in some subtle but very substantial way to sex. Lex was just …well, sexy, and he’d figured that just about anybody, regardless of their gender or sexual orientation, would pick up on it.

He really hadn’t given his…awareness a second thought until he had his first wet dream featuring Lex’s bald skull and his tongue. That had unnerved him quite a bit, but the dreams had continued, had became ever more explicit, but always pleasurable. Very pleasurable. And still Clark had pretended it didn’t mean anything. Amazing really, that he had been living that way for months without examining those impulses with any objectivity.

So much wasted time.

In the last 24 hours he’d had to admit to himself that he’d been deliberately misunderstanding, playing it safe with the biggest part of who he was, while another part grew happily addicted to the emotional highs he always felt in the older boy’s presence.

Now he wants more of the high, and if remembered looks can rip apart his insides like Lex’s do, he wants what comes after, too.

“Mr. Luthor, Mr. Clark Kent is on his way up, sir.”

“Thank you, Enrique,” Lex directs his response to the disembodied voice emitting from a tastefully concealed intercom. “Clear the wing of any staff, would you.”

He continues to stare at the spreadsheet displayed on his laptop, but the figures might as well have been translated into ancient Sumerian for all he now comprehends of their meaning.

Clark’s on his way up.

Damn.

He’d known this conversation was inevitable – the Kent’s weren’t bashful about expressing their feelings after all – but he hadn’t drawn up a battle plan. He has no pithy quips prepared which would effectively put Clark in his place and dismiss this situation as inconsequential simultaneously.

And that is more telling in a Luthor than he would ever be able to admit.

There were any number of reasons to put some distance between himself and Clark. They all boiled down to preserving his own sanity, but he wasn’t prepared to reveal the truth about his feelings, much less the increasing power of their hold over him.

Lex had never been sure if his instant physical reaction to Clark that day by the river had gone unnoticed, but he knew he’d been caught coveting that astoundingly well-developed form enough times since that Clark had to be very much aware of his attraction, just as Lex was aware, from Clark’s flushes and flirtatious smiles, of Clark’s eagerness to please him, inchoate and unconscious though his responsiveness was.

He’d been damned stupid about the whole thing, and was kicking himself for not putting a halt to this sooner. The acts Lex had become obsessed with perpetrating on this minor child would enrage a father like Jonathon Kent. And if he found out, would he be incensed enough to kill him? Or merely vindictive enough to press charges?

Lex didn’t want to think of his own father’s reaction if he were caught in such a scandal. Again. Nor was the idea of languishing in jail for even a short duration, off-chance eventuality though that might be, palatable to him.

But there he was again, avoiding the real issue, which wasn’t anything as trivial as disinheritance, a felony conviction or a sound beating at the hands of a righteous farmer.

Lex had concluded weeks ago that Clark was his for the taking. He was an inexplicably chaste virgin, and would require some persuading, but Lex had no reason to doubt his own seductive appeal. With what he suspected would be very little effort, Clark’s teasing smiles would fall way to frantic panting pleas.

Ah, lovely. Lex was becoming uncomfortably hard. Not that that was new, just that he was normally better at controlling himself in Clark’s presence.

And shouldn’t that strengthen his resolve – wouldn’t it be masochistic beyond pleasure to keep this boy under hand, but never touched? He seriously doubted his ability to toe that line. Was quite certain that before much longer he would simply take what was so temptingly offered.

And what then if Clark regretted the experience, as heterosexual adolescents often did after a hormone-driven round of sexual experimentation? And he had no doubt of Clark’s heterosexuality. The Lana obsession was proof enough, and imagining otherwise was folly.

The thought of losing Clark’s trust and affection created in him a physical anguish. How much more so if he took Clark beforehand; made him his completely? Losing him after that would, he imagined, send him to a sucking void of cynicism and apathy he wouldn’t even try to emerge from. He’d given the matter a lot of thought, and this definitely seemed the likely outcome.

Pathetic.

Not that he wouldn’t go on living; go on playing his games – world domination the ultimate prize, undesired – and becoming more unprincipled, more ruthless, with each day that swept him further from that idyllic spot in time when he’d had his heart’s desire.

Maudlin.

Before he’d destroyed it, as was the habit in his family.

And that really was tragic.

All but unavoidable, though. For all of his father’s Machiavellian dramatics, Lex understands and accepts his place in the world. He doesn’t need an old woman’s visions to know he’s going to be a very powerful man. And show him a great and powerful man who hadn’t done ugly things on his drive to the top.

Hell, he’s already done things that Clark would be repelled by. Already lied to Clark countless times about little things, really – every day minutiae in the life of a Luthor. Other things, his “projects” – altogether much bigger things from a moral standpoint – haven’t yet come to light, and Lex is grateful he hasn’t had to lie about those things. But given time that too is inevitable.

One way or another, he’ll ultimately sully Clark – a prospect that originally appealed to his reprobate sensibilities, but which left a bad taste in his mouth of late. So he was determined not to risk that outcome, but neither had he wanted to think what it might require of him to set Clark aside, drive him away.

His uncharacteristically naive hope had been that Clark, sensing the nature of his interest, would very sensibly keep from his sight. He had imagined that Clark would have a stronger sense of self-preservation than to aggressively pursue the relationship once Lex himself quietly drew away. Apparently Clark’s innocence was completely unbreached and he could not recognize the danger.

Clark doesn’t knock – doesn’t want to risk being sent away; just lets himself into the spacious study at the head of the stairs to find Lex apparently absorbed in Luthor Corp spreadsheets, idly running the weighty end of his expensive Mont Blanc slowly across a sensual lower lip, jacket and tie draped over the arm of a nearby chair, collar opened, exposing a length of smooth pale skin. Throbbing jugular that Clark’s heightened perception locks onto.

Lex doesn’t look up from his work; even knowing his attempt at delay is pointless. “What can I do for you, Clark?”

“Lex…” Clark waits an eternity for pale slate eyes to fix him and then sucks in a deep breath. “Um…is everything alright? With us, I mean?”

Lex looks back to his laptop while his brain trips about for a reply. “How do you mean, Clark?” He asks inanely. Damnit, pull yourself together, here.

“Well, it just seems like maybe you’ve been avoiding me? For a couple weeks now. Have I done something wrong, Lex?”

Lex resigns himself and turns back to meet questioning kaleidoscope eyes. “I’m not avoiding you, Clark. Business is keeping me very busy at present.”

“Too busy to spend time with a friend?” Clark counters, wishing he didn’t sound so petulant in the face of Lex’s indulgent smile.

“Not at all. I’ve seen a number of acquaintances from Metropolis recently.” Lex wills Clark to take the hint.

“Then it’s only me you don’t make time for, isn’t it? I…need you to tell me why.”

Lex bites back a curse, shifts uncomfortably. “Many reasons. Your father for one – I wouldn’t want you to jeopardize your relationship with him. Your well-being for another. I know you only half believe the things I’ve told you, Clark, but the truth is my family is very dangerous.”

Not his father; his family. Himself. Go away, Clark.

Clark thinks he understands the danger well enough and only sets his chin defiantly. Lex drops his gaze to pouting lips. He had known it would come to this, hadn’t he? Blunt, then.

“It isn’t in your best interests to continue seeing me privately. Your father’s not stupid, nor is he alone in his opinion of our ‘friendship.’ Why, I’d bet some of the boys at your school – Whitney for example – have already remarked on it.” Lex lets cynicism taint his laugh, leers suggestively. “Feel like a freak now, Clark? How will you feel when Lana hears the nasty rumors – that her boy-next-door is Lex Luthor’s latest debauchery?”

Clark’s looking down the barrel of it now. Not shocked, exactly… just seeing everything, thinking it, too. Outside of it all for a moment.

“Clark? You understand what I’m suggesting?”

Clark nods; spasms of corporeal excitement skitter through his body at the admission. Lex wants him. At some level he’d know it all along, of course, but to finally have it in the open leaves him feeling breathless in a way a hard run to Metropolis never will. His best friend wants more than friendship. Maybe hasn’t ever been interested in his friendship at all.

And has grown tired of waiting for Clark to grow up and see the possibilities.

But Clark wants it too. And though his actual knowledge of “it” is limited in the extreme, his dreams have given him some ideas. He has some very definite ideas of what he’d like to do with…and to Lex.

“It’s true, then – you have….feelings for me.” Clark can’t keep the hint of triumph from his voice, or dampen the heat he feels creeping up his body; doesn’t even try to wipe the goofy smile off his face. “I don’t mind, Lex…what anybody says. You’re too important to me to give up for any reason. Even if – I mean, I…I want…”

Clark blushes furiously and squirms on the carpet before Lex’s imposing desk, horrified to realize he might start to cry – that, or giggle like a girl. His sheepish eyes cling to Lex in an appeal for help.

Lex’s mouth dries as comprehension tears through him. His wholesome, innocent farm boy is eager for his attentions? Soulful eyes implore Lex to understand what he can’t speak aloud; beg Lex to lay hands on his needy nubile body.

His eyes flick hungrily over that body now, so well loved in his fantasies, noting Clark’s flaming cheeks and rigid stance; a rigid cock straining against faded denim.

How long has that been there?

And what does this change? Impossible to know, but he doesn’t imagine for a moment it alters the certainty of their eventual fall-out. But most relationships are doomed from the start, aren’t they? His perhaps more than most. Yet, he could have this. Have Clark for as long as he was willing to overlook Lex’s transgressions. Then they would part ways, and Lex would have his memories. Would they be enough?

Clark, like most of his exes, would likely leave bitter and disappointed, but not because Lex had taken advantage; gotten him dirty. Lex thinks he can live with that; really doesn’t want to rationalize it any more than that, not with the six plus feet of rugged innocence begging to be mussed.

Clark’s never felt particularly comforted by the standard predatory interest in Lex’s gaze – stimulated and discomfited maybe, but then he sees that interest melt away, incinerated by a raw hungry need that Clark now knows has always been veiled. He suddenly feels very inadequate. And cheated. A handful of clumsy girl kisses were piss-poor preparation for Lex Luthor.

Lex sees the moment Clark finally catches the scent of danger; thinks his flight response might be about to kick in.

And that wouldn’t do at all.

The ends of his lips lift into a wicked smile. “We’ll take this slow, Clark.” He rises and prowls around his desk. Putting his back to it, he takes a strong hand in his own, leans his hips on the edge and pulls Clark between his splayed legs.

He holds Clark’s large hand between his own two, rubbing his thumbs along the long supple fingers –clean and soft, as if dirt wouldn’t stick to something so pure – and just refuses to release Clark’s wide gaze.

“Now tell me what it is you think you want.” Silky, sexy purr.

Clark struggles against the vacuum that fills his lungs. What he knows he wants. He can’t believe he’s feeling so much – can’t believe he never knew there was so much missing from his previous infatuations. He’d never felt desire like this. And he’s terrified to answer Lex, but he has to – these feelings are too overwhelming to suppress, too powerful not to take the chance.

“I…want to know what turns you on, Lex,” he breathes in a rush, peeking from beneath long sooty lashes that make the other man’s knees weak. “I…want you to show me.”

Lex’s smile deepens, pulling the scar on his lip in a way that makes Clark’s jaw lock and saliva flood his mouth. Lex’s gaze rivets on his throat when he swallows, and that’s almost too much.

“You turn me on, Clark. You always have.” Lex pulls him deeper into the V of his widespread legs; pushes his erection into Clark’s groin, shifts lightly on him. The boy’s head falls back – eyes closed and lip bit – in response.

Lex.”

Strong fingers trail lightly down his exposed throat before moving to the small of Clark’s back, pressing him more firmly into Lex. Clark flexes his hips to rub his cock hard against Lex’s, feels a pleasure so sharp it’s almost painful. He bites back a groan at the feel of another hand slipping under the hem of his t-shirt to stroke the satiny skin above the waist of his jeans. He shudders between those hands.

“Kiss me, Clark.”

Clark’s mouth comes down hard, tongue thrusting hot and urgent into his mouth, and Lex decides he’s in heaven. Never did he expect to have Clark here, like this – panting and desperate – tugging now at the buttons on his tailored shirt, hands strong and greedy on his skin, and now he’s putting his mouth on Lex and Lex has dreamed of this for so long it’s going to take a moment for him to wrest back control.

“Is…is this okay, Lex?” Clark’s being driven by instinct now, pulling the heavy silk shirt from Lex’s slacks, and peeling it off obliging arms. His lips are trailing open mouth kisses over Lex’s throat and chest, over smooth white skin and supple muscle, licking and laving the exotically scented body, eliciting sharp gasps and muted moans and wanting to devour him. On that thought he grazes a tight nipple with his teeth before sucking hard at the excited flesh. And Lex just bucks underneath him.

“Mmmm, Lex. Fuck. You just…make me…” Then through heavy denim, Clark feels an urgent hand close ruthlessly on his throbbing erection, and he’s no longer in control. If he ever was.

Lex stares into startled eyes, green hazel in the late afternoon light, and revels in the wide-pupiled daze, at bronze and pink skin flushed with desire, and a mouth that makes him so damned hard. He tugs at the front of Clark’s t-shirt and Clark obediently removes it, offering himself without apparent reservation. Christ, he’s only fifteen years old, a voice Lex doesn’t recognize hisses in his head. His hand squeezes tighter. Clark growls at him. Jesus!

“Clark…what are you doing?” No, that’s not the question he wanted. “Do you know what you’re doing?” And why even ask? There’s not a hint of uncertainty in that face that’s always so nakedly expressive.

Clark’s rocking into his pleasure-giving hand and that’s all the response Lex needs. He shuts out the warnings while nimble fingers penetrate the button-fly and slip inside to close hard around Clark, uncut and throbbing, while his other hand grasps silky locks at the back of Clark’s head and pulls him in for a more exploratory kiss.

His tongue lightly traces Clark’s fascinating lips, teasing, before dipping inside, thrusting in to taste him again and again, rhythm mimicking the motion of his hand, finally biting and sucking at the full lower lip. Clark’s unfocused gaze sharpens with a playful twist of a rosy nipple.

Lex…?” A plea so sweet.

“You’re so beautiful, Clark. You don’t have any idea how you affect me, do you?” Hand tugging lazily on Clark, driving him crazy. “Don’t have any idea how I’ve wanted this – wanted your pretty mouth on me…”

Clark’s focus sharpens at Lex’s words, and emotions stronger than any he’s ever felt batter at his senses. His Lex – so vulnerable; so deserving of love. And Clark needs so badly to drive away the pain that the rest of the world won’t see.

He’s on his knees before he can second guess his impulse, smiling up at Lex, whose expression borders on…well, it looks like Lex is a little shocked.

Clarks giggles good-naturedly at him while struggling to undo his pants. Nothing to see here, folks, Lex thinks, and chuckles in return. He cannot believe what Clark’s showing him: unabashed joy and…devotion all over his face.

Then he’s all but naked, his almost painful erection inches from the mouth that has been the vortex of his most salacious fantasies since moments after Clark carried him soaking from the river. His rock hard cock twitches in anticipation.

Clark’s eyes rake down Lex’s body – all alabaster and russet tints – attention fixing on an engorged penis – his entire body as pale and hairless as his skull. A god carved in warm, animate marble. Clark feels only a fleeting twinge of guilt at the blasphemous thought as he sets his mouth to worship his newfound deity.

Lex’s hands fist in tousled locks at the feel of Clark’s mouth playing achingly on him, first tentatively taking the smooth head in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the sensitive surface, before pulling as much of the length into his scorching mouth as possible.

Sucking his cock and sounding appreciative about it. The boy at his feet, moving on the length of him, gripping and kneading his ass, is as untutored as they come, but his enthusiasm is laying waste to Lex’s ever-present control. He watches – dazed and mesmerized – the most cherished boy in the world take pleasure in pleasuring him.

Clark…” Lex moans, hips thrusting involuntarily against Clark, feeling the roof of his mouth, the back of his throat, and now the repetitive stroking of cool, wet tongue up the ridge of his shaft.

Ten minutes ago I was working on spreadsheets. Lex shakes the random thought from his sluggish mind.

He thrusts hard when Clark pulls him deep again, and Clark’s holding him so close. Encouraging him, and is he really that naive? Lex moves into him more deliberately, setting an easy rhythm, and thinks he might lose touch with reality when Clark discovers how to swallow him.

And this was Clark Kent taking him in his mouth – letting him fuck him in his mouth. Jesus Christ! Lex is pumping deep now into Clark’s throat, but Clark clearly doesn’t mind, and a star flames with blinding intensity behind Lex’s closed eyelids and he jets into Clark’s mouth, still wrapped tightly around him, still pulling and now swallowing, stiff fingers digging deep into Lex’s hips, anchoring him as he convulses in rapture, until he is spent.

Trembling with the power of his release, Lex drops unsteadily to his knees and, holding Clark’s face in both hands, gently laps away the signs of Clark’s first blowjob, exulting in the taste of himself on the younger man’s tongue – in knowing that his scent would soon be all over Clark. That soon the beautiful boy would be branded his in a way that would never wash away.

“Come with me.”

Clark follows Lex to his feet and watches him pull his pants up to catch loosely on the jut of his graceful hip, not bothering to fasten his fly – causing Clark to wonder fleetingly at the conspicuous absence of servants whenever he’s visited – and Lex leads him, hands clasped, deeper into the shadowed halls.

He’s stunned by what happened in the study. Tasting Lex had felt like a religious experience, a revelation. After a lifetime of feeling he didn’t belong – so much worse recently with the ‘greater purpose’ bullshit his father was feeding him – he had had a glimpse of what having a place and a purpose would feel like. Hard to pinpoint now, but having Lex as he’d had – Clark on his knees, but Lex the one who’d truly been vulnerable – there had been a moment he thought he’d glimpsed his destiny with certainty. He’s prepared to worship Lex with a devotion and zealousness only newly saved sinners achieve.

Prepared to save Lex in return – again and again, if necessary.

“Lex, I…,” but it’s too soon to say that, and does Lex even want to hear it? “I…I want you so bad, Lex.”

Lex doesn’t look back, only tightens his hold on his hand as he pulls Clark through the massive doors entering his bedroom. The manor’s formal rooms complemented Lex’s public persona, cool and businesslike, but this hidden haven is the real Lex – inviting, sensual, complex. And private. Heavy velvet drapes of pale luminous grey shield the windows that surround the spacious room on three sides, shutting out all the world but Clark.

Lex strides to the enormous mahogany bed with Clark in eager tow, halting only when he would otherwise stumble into it, and with a deft twist of the wrist propels him onto the downy surface.

Laughing and flipping over, Clark relaxes back on his elbows and watches Lex toe off his shoes and strip out of his pants and socks. “You want this,” he says thickly, all humor vanished. “But you were pushing me away.”

Lex stands naked at Clark’s feet and appreciates how hard Clark is now, how badly he needs Lex to touch him. Lex’s eyes flick over a smooth, bronze expanse of chest, a ridged abdomen deeply muscled, a down of silky pale hairs tracing a narrow path on a long, lean torso….and Lex has gotten so hard again already he can’t imagine what Clark must be experiencing.

Lex drags his gaze back to Clark’s face, charmingly flushed and expectant, lips red and slightly swollen from his recent activities, slightly parted in excitement. “I’ve never sacrificed anything because it was the right thing to do.” He tugs hard at the legs of Clark’s jeans, stripping them and flannel boxers, plaid ones which strike Lex as ridiculously hot just at the moment, shucking them quickly when lean hips are lifted off the bed. And then Clark is completely nude on his velvet coverlet, warm bronze skin alive on the shimmering grey.

And damned if he’d give this up. Not because the law, or his bastard of a father, or a Good ‘Ole Boy Kansas dirt farmer didn’t like it; not for anything.

“I want to give you everything you need, Clark. This can be whatever you want. Just tell me.” Lex’s voice rings hoarse and urgent in his head – not the tone he was going for, but God…Clark.

He runs hands up sinewy legs, crawling on his knees across the enormous bed. Bracing hands on either side of Clark’s face, he leans in close enough to feel Clark’s heat. He slides his tongue teasingly into Clark’s inviting mouth, coaxes him to be more aggressive, then sucks hard when Clark’s tongue thrusts into his mouth.

Clark’s hands are all over him again, questions forgotten. Lex tries not to be distracted by that. Fails miserably when the broad strokes sweep across his scalp, down his back and fasten on his buttocks. Moves lower to breathe in Clark’s clean, honest scent – soap and sunshine – tongue flicking in the hollows of Clark’s throat; teasing and tweaking hard nipples, first with fingers, then his scalding mouth. Cursory foreplay because he knows Clark is going to explode soon – can’t believe his virgin’s lasted this long.

Pressing his lips into hot scrotum, sucking lovingly; pulling Clark deep into his mouth. And Clark’s on his elbows again, staring down at Lex, about to lose it, and looking a little worried, definitely breathless.

And there’s the fifteen year old Lex had expected, because Clark is already coming – hot pulsing into the back of Lex’s throat. And Clark falls back, moaning and writhing for Lex and he would laugh his delight if his mouth weren’t full of Clark.

Lex crawls up to lay next to Clark, stroking the flushed, dewy body until Clark can regain his verbal skills. Having him here, sprawled boneless in his bed was the culmination of every fantasy Lex had conjured since his exile to Smallville, and he vows to make the most of his good fortune.

Clark’s eyes are closed, his breathing deep and ragged, still. Lex imagines him an angel fallen from Heaven: sinfully sexed up, but still retaining the luminous glow, innocence still somehow intact.

Clark rolls into his arms and kisses him tenderly.

“Better?”

“God, Lex, that was…well…mind blowing?”

Lex laughs his satisfaction, wonders at the deepening blush staining Clark’s cheeks. What kind of depravity would it take to eradicate Clark’s virtue? He wants to find out.

Or maybe he doesn’t, but he is going to push the envelope.

“Was I okay?”

And Lex hasn’t laughed this freely since…when? “Anymore ‘okay,’ Clark, and you’d have had a very interesting conversation with the paramedics.” And how could he begrudge that praise when he’s rewarded with such an effervescent smile. Does Clark know that’s all it takes to get him hard?

“So…you wanna try something else?” Clark’s grin turns a little sly even as his cheeks flush a deeper hue.

Oh, he knows, alright. “Fuck, yeah.” Lex threads his fingers in Clark’s hair, runs a finger down the bow of Clark’s ear. “So tell me, gorgeous, what dirty little fantasies have you been jerking off to?”

Clark’s already half-hard again, and his cock jumps in response to those shocking words spilling from Lex’s lush mouth. Lex pushing him, challenging him in bed the way he’s always done, in every aspect of their relationship, and Clark hadn’t even considered that – how much that in itself would excite him.

“I … haven’t really. I mean, until yesterday I mostly tried to keep you out of my head that way. Um, while I was awake anyway.”

“And what do we do in your wet dreams, Clark? Hold hands?” Lex scores his manicured nails down a long arching back. “Tell me what you want from me, hmm?”

“We…I…” And his hands are gripping Lex’s firm, supple ass, and the feel of Lex’s own erection riding hard into his hip calls forth a jumble of feverish images, and leaves little room for coherent speech.

“Do you fuck me, Clark? Do you come in my ass?”

“Lex! Fuck.”

Clark is breathing hard again just like that, cock hard again, and surely Lex talking dirty to him couldn’t be enough to make him come? He’s thrusting into the hollow below Lex’s hip and it’s not nearly enough, and can he hurt Lex this way? A strangled sound escapes his lips. “So good to me, Lex. You’re so good…

“Shhh. It’s okay, Clark. I dream about that, too. We can do whatever you want. I’ve imagined you so many ways –”

“Lex, please…

Jesus, he begged so pretty. Prettier still with Lex’s fist in his hair, pulling his head back, crazy need in his eyes, and Clark’s a little out of control, isn’t he? “Tell me how you want it, Clark.” Sharp teeth biting and sucking the hollow of a long throat – an extension of the mouth he’d loved; lips pressed to skin to take Clark’s throaty groan into himself.

“I… I want you to…to fuck me. Show me.” Clark feels desperate and alone when Lex slides off the bed; watches him hungrily while he pulls his dressing mirror to the opposite side of the bed, at ease with his nudity in a way that makes Clark want to offer himself up to.

“Sit up and face the mirror. On your knees.” Clark’s obeying him without question. God, this boy is perfect. How could he not be? “Knees wider apart.”

Clark watches Lex’s reflection, limned in the silver lamplight, open a drawer in the nightstand and toss a couple condoms and what Clark feels oddly embarrassed to note is a tube of lubricant onto the bed’s coverlet. He watches Lex’s knee lift to the surface a moment before the bed dips under him, and Clark is shivering in anticipation.

Lex wraps his arms around Clark and presses into the warmth of sun-kissed skin, his cock nestled in the cleft of Clark’s backside. He enjoys the sensation a moment before moving his knees between Clark’s, nudging them wider. He sits back on his heels, pulling Clark back on him, slicks his fingers with lube and touches Clark’s hole. Who jumps at the cool wetness, unexpected, and then shudders when a light hand on his hip guides him, eases him down onto Lex’s finger. Lex presses deep once, twice, and then slips a second finger inside the satiny heat. And Clark’s moaning and rocking back on his hand, eyes locked on Lex’s, drunk with wonder and love…and Lex can’t think about losing this right now.

And it’s too perfect, too beautiful, too wholly unexpected for Clark to be seeing…this – Lex’s reflection behind his own in the mirror, revealing need like an open wound, unguarded and vulnerable. Watching Lex watch his fingers play in Clark, and there’s no hiding for either of them like this. He wants to confess everything to Lex – what this does to him, that he’s never felt this way before – to make Lex understand how much he loves him, that he doesn’t have to be so careful, that Clark won’t break. But it’s too much, they’re too close for confessions now, and all he can do is feel. Eyes glued on the mirror, Clark reaches down and sees his own hand close on his cock and start to move.

“No…let me.” Lex pushes Clark’s hand away, but he doesn’t touch him there. He’s scraping a nail on Clark’s hard nipples, and biting into Clark’s shoulder and moving inside him, twisting and stretching and hitting…something that’s making Clark buck against the lithe, muscular body behind him.

“God, I’m ready. Don’t make me…Jesus fuck! Please, Lex …”

Long slow slide and Lex is buried inside him, filling him completely. “Lex!”

“Mmm. You feel…so good, Clark.” Lex is in a beautiful dream, and Clark’s here with him. He’s had this dream so many times; he doesn’t have to think about what Clark needs from him. He’s still leaning back on him, impaled on him. And Lex just…undulates under him, a full body roll that starts with his thighs, lifting and spreading Clark for a deeper thrust of his cock, and then his belly is pressed to Clark’s lower back, his chest into Clark’s shoulders, and he sucks the nape of Clark’s neck and wraps his arms tight around the strong, lean body.

Clark’s eyes are fixed on the mirror, truly shocked now, at the sight of his body riding Lex helplessly. He feels adrift, floating in a vast ocean of sensations, aware only of the rolling beneath him and the scorching heat of Lex’s gaze on his skin like a blinding sun.

And Lex does it again and again until Clark thinks he could go mad from his need to touch himself. And finally, mercifully, Lex’s hand is on him, jerking him off ruthlessly, rubbing the tip of a foil-calloused thumb into the pre-cum laden slit, and Clark’s coming hard, and he can’t think at all. Babbling for Lex, promising so many things, and knowing he’ll give them all.

He’d beg Lex to let him do those things; thinks Lex will want him to beg for some of it, and can’t. fucking. wait.

Lex stills underneath Clark, watching the emotions naked in Clark’s reflection, watching him come, savoring the rippling contractions of Clark’s orgasm. When Clark eases around Lex, he pushes him forward, on his hands and knees now, and just rides him hard, thrusting, shoving himself into the welcoming heat. “Look at us, Clark.”

Clark lifts dreamy eyes to his own in the mirror, and Lex shudders his release into the boy, shouting his name raggedly.

They sleep a long time, cocooned between a thick downy mattress pad and comforter, the pleasant friction of fine linen sheets on their exhausted bodies, content and sated.

Lex opens his eyes first, and there’s a moment of breathless panic engendered by the feel of Clark wrapped possessively in his arms, the responsibility of that possession.

A warm repetitive huff of breath moistens the skin where his neck and shoulder join, and if he hadn’t already woken up with a hard-on, this would have done it. He threads fingers into Clark’s dark hair, runs the other hand down his leanly fleshed ribs, and shoulders him onto his back, slipping a knee between two heavily muscled thighs and pulling his head back to nuzzle Clark’s neck, breathe in the warm clean curls behind his ear.

Like puppy, but better, he thinks with a grin, nipping and then soothing with his mouth, his tongue lifting salt from golden skin, pressing into the hollow below Clark’s ear before kissing a path on the sensitive skin under his jaw. He pulls back to look into Clark’s green eyes, heavy lidded, but definitely awake. Much better.

“Mmm. Why’d you stop?” Clark lifts his arms over his head and stretches languidly – a very large cat fat on cream. He licks his lips and watches Lex’s attention fix on his mouth. This really is too easy.

“I told you we’d take it slow.”

“You weren’t serious!?” If this was Lex’s idea of slow, he was in trouble.

Lex smiles enigmatically. “Obviously not. But I didn’t want to rush you.”

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“In a manner.”

Quiet questioning eyes probe Lex’s. “What you said about never sacrificing anything – you meant me, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Clark was silent and staring beneath him, clearly not willing to drop the subject. It had been a very long time since Lex had told someone he loved them, and he’d been a rank adolescent at the time. It wouldn’t compare at any rate, because he didn’t know he could feel the things he feels for Clark before he’d actually met him. Poetic love wasn’t a fairy tale after all. A tragedy, perhaps, and he felt assured of having the proof of that in time.

“Clark…I didn’t know if this was what you really wanted, if you were ready for this. I don’t ever want you to think I’ve abused your trust.”

“But you knew how much I wanted this, didn’t you? Before I did, I mean?”

“Having a crush and being prepared for the consequences of a homosexual relationship with a man like me – a Luthor, and the town pariah – ”

“But you knew how good it would be. I think you knew how important you are to me before I…” Clark ducks his head in embarrassment, suddenly uncertain.

“Say it, Clark. Just…I need to hear you say it.”

“That I love you?”

Clark’s intent now on his response – nervous and needy, but teasing him, too. Flirting. Delicious.

“Yeah. I love you, too, you know. That’s why I was going to let you go.” Clark’s eyes are pools filling with confusion and anger, and those eyes hold power over him, don’t they? This is absurd.

The heavy body moves to press over Lex, And Clark’s shifting his muscular frame provocatively – playing in a way sure to drive the more experienced man out of his mind; demonstrating remarkable control while doing so, Lex thinks with not a little bit of apprehension.

“You’ve got to explain that to me, Lex – how forcing me away would have been good for either of us. And please tell me you don’t still think that way?” He lowers his head to nibble Lex’s jaw while awaiting an explanation.

Lex can’t stop himself from hiding his face in his pillow; doesn’t want to have this conversation with Clark – not so soon. “Someday you’ll know the real Lex Luthor, and I don’t think he’s someone you can love.”

Clark’s body stiffens in denial of the words. “That’s crazy, Lex. You’re real. You’re a good man, and I do love you.”

“I have secrets, Clark. Things you wouldn’t like, and it’s in me – a capacity for –”

“Don’t even say it. Being a Luthor doesn’t make you evil, Lex. God, you do so many good, kind things. You choose to do them, don’t you?”

Lex turns back to Clark, warmed by the conviction in his voice.

“But I do them for the wrong reasons, and in time you’ll see that all too clearly.”

Clark doesn’t believe that for a moment; needs to prove to Lex how certain he is that Lex is wrong. “Well, maybe there are things about me that will scare you off first; did you ever think of that?” He’s going to tell Lex, and it feels so right.

“I’ve been lying to you, Lex. Hiding, really.”

Lex pulls free of Clark’s hold and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Don’t tell me your secrets, Clark…not yet – not ever if you’re smart.”

Because the longer we hide from one another, the longer I can have you.

Clark drops gentle kisses on his lover’s sensuous mouth until silvered eyes are opened to him again. “You don’t think we should be honest with each other?” he whispers.

“Just humor me, okay? In time I’m sure we’ll know more than enough about each other to seal our fate.”

“A legendary friendship,” Clark declares defiantly.

Lex twists his lips in a rueful half-smile. “I think things have progressed a bit further, don’t you, Clark? There’s no need to rush things, is there?”

“No, we can go slow.”

And I’ll save you, Lex.



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