Disclaimers: If they were mine, I'd keep them on a short leash.

Spoilers: Jitters.

Summary: Lex is celebrating in his own special way.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Author's Notes: Pure, unadulterated fluff. If you're looking for deeper
meanings in this, you've got Issues.

Acknowledgments: To the Spike, for telling me what to write and then
staying up until half-past late to audience. Her specs: Drunken!Lex,
happiness, 2000 words.

Er... two outta three is just gonna have to do, babe.

Feedback is the sign of a civilized mind.

*

In Lex's experience, people rarely use recreational drugs the right way. They
drink hard liquor when depressed, snort coke exactly when they should be
taking rest cures, shoot heroin when they need to get out and *do*
something.

In Lex's experience, most people are absolute morons.

However, he is not most people.

Therefore, at the end of a long, excruciating day in which he learned exactly
how much a Luthor life weighed against the maintenance of the Luthor good
name, there was absolutely no choice but to break out the champagne.

Of course, given prior decisions of the same stripe, Lex was now permanently
hard-wired towards bitterness and depression at the very *smell* of the stuff,
but...

Champagne was champagne.

Four or five glasses, one or two bottles later, good cheer was yours, no matter
how much one's life sucked.

Or how little it was worth, as the case may be.

No, no, enough of that -- the good guys won, no one was dead, and his father
had flown back to Metropolis in at *least* as bad a mood as Lex himself was
in, thanks to the press conference.

Free, White, twenty-one, wealthier than God -- though not wealthier than, say,
Bruce Wayne -- in possession of several magnums of pre-chilled champagne --
he had, of course, called ahead -- and *alive*.

God, so fucking alive his skin is still crawling.

Like every single cell of his body is jumping up and down for the sheer *fuck*
of it.

Sure, the ennui would settle in soon enough, but for now?

Maybe he should take up thrill-seeking. Though there wasn't much of a market
for that in Smallville.

Maybe he could start huffing methane.

Teaching evolution.

Seducing teenaged girls. And boys. And animals.

What *was* an adolescent cow like in the sack, anyway?

Half a bottle down and Lex is wondering if he still needs the flute.

Or, rather, he knows the flute is absolutely useless, but does he still
*want* it?

He is, after all, practicing the fine art of getting absolutely fitshaced all by
his lonesome. There's no one to impress with his expertly chosen crystal.

Hmm.

The next time he consciously thought of the thing, he'd wing it at a wall.
There. Nicely random. The glass still has a chance -- whoops. No, it
doesn't.

The thing even *smashes* beautifully -- a musical tinkle of fine crystal beside
the fireplace, shards and crumbs prisming cheerfully back at him. One of
those moments when Lex feels amiable enough to consider the idea of a
generally beneficent universe.

Not *believe* in it, mind, but he can be magnanimous.

If any Jehovah's Witnesses came along, he wouldn't release the hounds.

He wonders if he has hounds.

It really would be like his father to kennel up some excellently bred animals
out here with some slightly less well-bred keeper.

He'd ask.

Do they hunt with dogs out here?

Maybe he'd start an annual Smallville fox hunt, all horses and fitted red
uniforms -- all the better to cause hunting accidents, my friend...

Do they have foxes out here?

Tilts his head back for the last ticklish slug of bubbly and nearly keels over
backward. He'd probably forgotten to eat, what with all the pistol-whipping
and near-death experiences. So sad to lose it at such a *young* age.
Someone, somewhere, ought to be very disappointed in him.

Oh, wait; there's always his father.

Bless him.

Morbid, maudlin, mawkish, masochistic, mm, mm, mm.

Mmm.

More champagne.

The walls do an excellent job of holding him up on his way to the sitting room
with all the lovely ice buckets. It's good that he'd gotten to keep Joachim as
a manservant even way the fuck out here. The man knows his job and had
known Lex since he was a just a wee, prissy thing.

Instead of the larger, prissy thing he is now.

Joachim had left *four* ice buckets lined up neatly on the wet bar, each bottle
of champagne tilted just *so*.

As if the man had stood there with a fucking *protractor*.

Ah, Joachim.

He should give the man a blowjob one day, a good one.

Of course, given how little Lex remembers of the mid-nineties, it's entirely
possible he already had.

At the very least, it could lead to a pleasantly surreal conversation.

'I say, old man, have I ever sucked you off?'

'Why, yes, Master Lex. It was the evening you came home with the navel
piercing.'

'Joachim, for shame! I did no such thing!'

At which point Joachim would produce the pictures, and Lex would be forced
to admit that he *had*, in fact, blown Joachim, and then they could discuss
whether or not it was a *good* blowjob, as blowjobs go, and whether or not
Lex might have gained some technique since then.

Though, really, he'd honestly *applied* himself to the art of giving blowjobs as
a teenager. He hadn't learned all that much since then.

Depressing that even sex could become just another skill to master, and one
without much room for upward mobility once the basics were, to wit, under
one's belt.

And fuck, yes, champagne.

Nothing like champagne, and how come he always forgot how *horny* he
got when he was this drunk?

And hungry.

Horny, drunk, and hungry.

Sad, sad, sad.

He really should've done more than just fuck Inez when she came down...
fuck, was it really just the other night?

Clark's party, fireworks, a few petty bribes, and Inez' tinkling laughter
(shattering glass) at hearing he planned to crash a high school party.

Undoubtedly she'd been expecting more out of him than just a display of
munificence. After all, if you were going to go to all the trouble of bribing the
local constabulary to keep away from a kegger, the very least you should
do is corrupt the youth.

Inez had asked him later if they'd ever been that young.

It was, of course, nowhere near the question she had meant to ask, and it
had just made her sound... dull.

Pretty jaded doll, painted up tawdry compared to all the fresh faces of
Smalltown, America. Still fucked like a demon, though, and probably blew the
limo driver on the way back to Metropolis for no reason other than that Lex
hadn't let her blow him the night before.

He hadn't wanted... that.

For whatever reason.

Probably something absolutely humiliating involving his evolving attitudes toward
intimacy, and yeah, they were all getting old.

Nothing quite like swallowing something, someone, like licking and biting and
sucking until they were just *in* you, deep beyond every other fuck imaginable
and God, he really wants to go down on someone right now.

His mother never breastfed him.

He's physically hungry.

Plenty of perfectly logical -- if disturbingly cannibalistic -- reasons why he wants
to go down. Pussy would be great; cock would be...

Cock would be just perfect.

Runs his tongue around the rim of the bottle, fucks the opening twice before
remembering the inadvertent physical comedy of an acquaintance getting his
tongue *stuck* in a bottle. Granted, it was a beer bottle, and the guy's tongue
had been swollen from whatever pretty little pill had been making the rounds at
the clubs that week, but... still.

Not exactly the best ending for the evening.

Idly considers climbing onto the roof and screaming something pithily attractive
like 'free blowjobs here!'

Realizes that he has, maybe, four more good-sized swallows of champagne
before that starts to seem like an *excellent* idea.

How far does sound carry in the country, anyway?

It would probably be more prudent to just wait by the road and flag down
passing truckers.

Lex looks down at his crotch and deftly avoids falling over. It's not that he's
*that* drunk yet so much that he's dizzy.

Not feeling the pain anymore, though, so that, at least, is something.

Or he could be that drunk, it's just that his dick is steadfastly refusing to
admit it. It's a *Luthor* dick, dammit, and don't you forget it.

Chuckles to himself and resettles on the couch into a half-lounge. Just upright
enough to avoid dumping the bottle down his shirt until he's not just *that*
drunk, but *damned* drunk. There are always tricks to these things. Though
this *particular* shirt is already fit for burning. Sweat-stained and rumpled
beyond all hope of retrievability.

"Share the joke?"

And clearly, he's drunk enough that stroke-causing shocks are being
automatically blunted to mild surprises. Nice, that. "Clark. I didn't hear you
come in..." Thinks about standing to greet the boy. Thinks again and just
turns and smiles in the direction of that wonderfully familiar voice.

Clark is giving him that shy-boy treatment, all hunched shoulders and carefully
bright smile. "Sorry about that, Lex. I just wanted to, you know..."

"Check on me?"

Clark nods.

"Well, as you can see, I am fit as the proverbial fiddle. You know, once
upon a time I knew exactly what proverb the fiddle came from, but right
this moment... well." Clark's look has gone a little wary. Can't have that.
Lex sits up carefully, swings his legs off the couch.

Gestures.

"Have a seat. Hell, have a drink. I'll bet you've never had champagne
before."

Clark sits and gives him the parody of a sly grin. "How much would you
bet?"

"Hmm. After seeing *that* poker face? Not a sou."

"I should send Pete and Chloe to you. They bet on *everything*, I
think."

"Tch. The state of today's youth."

Clark nods solemnly. "It's a tragedy."

And Lex's brain, clearly having decided that he's been intelligent enough for
the evening, chooses just that moment to point out that Clark, as a male
of the species, most probably has a dick hiding somewhere beneath those
oh-so-practical blue jeans.

Lex licks his lips before he can catch himself, half-turns away.

Now is not the time.

Now is pretty much the apotheosis of being not the time.

"... Lex?"

"Hmm?"

"Um... I couldn't help but notice all the champagne --"

"Oh! Forgive me. My mother would have disowned me for being such a
terrible host. I fear I've completely forgotten where the flutes are kept in
this mausoleum, but..." Hands the magnum over and smiles. "I promise I
don't have a cold."

"Oh, I... that isn't really what I meant." Clark holds the bottle awkwardly,
searches Lex's face. "I was just... were you planning a party?"

Lex leans back against the arm of the couch, pulling one knee up. Incredibly
grateful for the back support that leaves his bruised head untouched. Grins.
"My friend, the party has long since begun at the stately Luthor castle. Drink
up, join the celebration."

Clark raises an eyebrow at him. "What are we celebrating?"

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of gay sex. No. No. "Oh, lots of things. Flowers
in the spring, snowfall in the winter... being alive despite all the odds against
us." Lex gestures at the bottle and Clark takes a small, quick swallow, eyeing
him all the while.

Sneezes adorably.

"Gesundheit."

Clark blinks at him. "Wow, that's... I don't know if I like it or not, actually. It's
not the same as what we had at my aunt's wedding last year."

"You probably had something sweeter. Consider this my attempt to improve
your palate."

Clark snorts and takes another swallow before unsubtly placing the bottle on
the end table behind him. "Gee, Lex, what vintage *does* go best with
meatloaf and mashed potatoes?"

Lex taps his finger on his lip and pretends to think about it. "Ketchup or no
ketchup?"

"It's not a meatloaf *without* ketchup, Lex."

"Well, of course not. But, you know, I didn't want to offend you. Just in case
you were one of those ketchup-free barbarians you hear so much about."

Clark gives him one of those sunny grins that Lex wants to bottle up and keep
for himself. "I'm a Heinz man and I'm proud of it."

"Glad to hear it. Now about that champagne...?"

Clark's brow furrows and he reaches out. Warm hand burning through Lex's
pants at the knee. "Seriously, Lex, are you okay?"

Which is pretty much exactly the conversation he doesn't want to have right
now. Or, well, ever, but especially not now. Lex plasters on a smile. "Clark,
trust me, I'll be fine." And that isn't what he wanted to say.

"Which means you're *not* fine now."

Lex scrubs a hand over his head before he can think about it and winces in
what he knows had to be a blatantly obvious way.

"Jeez, Lex, are you sure you shouldn't be in a hospital?"

"*Yes*."

And Clark pulls back with a guarded look at Lex's tone. Dammit.

Lex makes a conscious effort to soften it. "Clark, I'm just... I'm just a
little worn, okay? Despite appearances, I really don't do the near-death thing
very often."

Clark just nods, very clearly not buying a word of it.

It really is a shame he hadn't had time to get through more of the
champagne before Clark showed up.

"Maybe... someone should stay with you? I didn't see Joachim anywhere..."

Definitely time to cut this off. "I gave him the weekend off to visit his family
in Metropolis."

"Oh, that's really nice of you, Lex --"

"I wanted to be alone."

"Oh. I. Oh..."

Lex lets the silence stretch, get nice and awkward. Clark's a smart boy, a
*polite* boy. Any minute now he'll be offering to see himself out and --

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Can't do anything but blink for a long moment. "... what?"

"I mean, you're sitting here, brooding with enough alcohol to poison a
*horse* --"

"I'm not brooding!"

Clark just eyes him. "Lex, if this is what you call celebrating, remind me to
*never* go to any of your parties, 'kay?"

"I throw *great* parties!"

"Of course you do. Just not right now. C'mon, Lex, what kind of friend would
I be if I left you like this?"

Lex does his best to rewind, figure out exactly when he lost control of this
conversation, because this is... bad. Grasps at the first thing that comes to
his head. "Aren't you grounded?"

"For two months, actually. Special dispensation to check out the guy in the
castle, though."

"You expect me to believe your parents agreed to that?"

"Lex..." And Clark is reaching out for him again. Stops just before touching
him and all Lex would have to do is shift a *little* to have that hand on his
knee. A little more to have it on his thigh. Pathetic, pathetic... "I don't think
you're getting just how grateful everyone is for what you did today."

"Okay, wait, stop. *Assuming* I believe that I'm no longer the town pariah,
why on earth would your parents send their only child out in the middle of the
night --"

"It's not even *eight* --"

" -- to check on me, when they could do so themselves?"

"Because you're *my* friend, Lex." Clark ducks his head. "And because I
offered to be grounded for an extra month if they let me come."

"You... what?"

"Like I said, Lex, you're my friend." And Clark is touching him again. "And
you scared the *shit* out of me today! What the hell were you thinking, taking
off your vest?"

"I --"

"Earl had a *gun*, Lex! A really *big* gun, and even if he wasn't going to
shoot anybody -- which he *did*! -- he kept having those... *seizures*! He
could've killed you by *accident*, you dumbass!"

"Clark --"

"No, shut up, I swear to God, if you ever do that again I'm going to... to...
I'll throw you in the manure vat! *And* aim a skunk at you. And... other
things. Jesus *Christ*, Lex, what were you thinking?"

And, okay, maybe it is a *good* thing he hadn't had any more to drink,
because this is... absolutely nothing like anything Lex has ever had to deal with
before. All he can do is stare, Clark leaning over him, flushed with something
other than embarrassment for maybe the first time *ever* and Lex is. Adrift.
"I... none of you had vests. And... Clark." Searches the boy's eyes for
something like a cue. "I'm sorry?"

Clark squeezes his thigh, making Lex bite back a gasp. "I was so
scared..."

"Clark..." And now is when he should be remembering to be indignant in
return, or at least wonder how much he should worry about a boy who
can pull two large men up onto scaffolding *one-handed*, among... other
things. So many other things he could be wondering about, but it *feels*
late and Clark is still staring.

Still waiting, and Lex has no idea for *what*.

Knows what *he's* waiting for. Wanting.

"Clark..." Trails off at the broken sound to his own voice and it's so *warm*
between them. All Clark would have to do is relax and they could be
body-to-body, pressed close and... "Clark, you should go."

"*No*, Lex--"

"Clark, I'm too fucked in the head right now to be anything but myself."

Still so close. "What does that mean?"

Barely has to reach to catch Clark's face in his hands, warm, smooth skin
under his palms and Clark doesn't even look *questioning* and Lex leans up
to kiss him, moaning even before they touch and just *taking*. Slips his
tongue between parted lips and makes a conscious effort to make the kiss
as wet as he can. As messy and raw as he can, some urge to push Clark
away rapidly degenerating into just what Lex *needs* to do.

Sucks Clark's lower lip and arches up for another kiss, and another, not
registering that Clark is kissing back until there's an arm wrapped around him,
holding him up, holding him close, and Clark is sucking on his tongue.

Moaning right back and so careful, so gentle --

"Oh, God --"

"It. Tastes better in your mouth, Lex. The champagne..."

And Clark is pushing him back down, and kissing him harder. Less careful now,
but none of the aches and pains compare to *this*.

Hot, sweet mouth devouring his own with an inexpert intensity, licking and
sucking at him and oh, God, yes, *Clark*. Needs this so badly and control is
rapidly becoming an amusing myth.

Gone utterly when Clark breaks the kiss to open Lex's wrecked collar further,
licking his neck and sucking at his collarbone and Lex is scrabbling at Clark's
shirts, wanting something like that surge of adrenaline, if only so he could just
rip the damned things *off*.

Barely remembers what a bad idea it would be to tilt his head back to give Clark
better access, but that's the only concession he can make to his physical state.
Arches up beneath Clark, gets his thigh between Clark's and rubs.

Makes Clark groan and bite down, squeeze Lex's shoulders just a little too hard
before he pulls back, panting. "Oh, God, sorry --"

"No, it's okay, don't stop --"

"Oh. Oh, Lex, Jesus, I want to touch you..."

"Please. Fuck. Feeling's mutual, just... c'mon, take these off."

And really, so much for anything remotely like intelligence, because the sight of
Clark kneeling over him, bare-chested and breathing raggedly --

"*Clark* --"

"Can I..." Clark shakes his head, bites his lip and just starts unbuttoning Lex's
shirt, stopping midway down to press his palm flat against the skin and just...
caress. Eyes closed and touching. "Lex, you feel so good."

Honest, hungry appreciation of his skin and Lex thought he had *power*
against this, but Christ, it's *different* with Clark. Like being new in some
hideously sentimental way to be touched like this.

*Enjoyed* like this.

Sits up too fast, but the dizziness of the move just blends into the dizziness of
the kiss, of the brush of callused fingers over his nipple once, then over and
over again.

"Does that... do you like that?"

"Yes, I... twist them."

Clark groans into his mouth and complies, too gently until Lex guides his hand.
Thrusting his tongue into Lex's mouth in a blindly innocent fuck and God, Lex
*needs*.

Presses close for a moment, kneeling against each other and then Clark is
*holding* him, something between a hug and an upright hump. Probably
*just* pornographic enough to keep Lex from running away screaming, and
Lex has to wonder if the boy is doing this *instinctively*.

And then there are hands at his belt and he can't wonder about anything
anymore.

Warm fingers just under his waistband, teasing and asking and Jesus.
Clark.

"Clark, sit back for a second. Yeah. Like that."

Has to take a moment to just *appreciate* Clark sprawled out on his couch,
sleepy-eyed and smiling, one leg bent down to the floor, and the other...

Clark's eyes go wide when Lex lifts it over the back of the couch. Almost as
incredible to watch as the denim pulling tight over Clark's bulge. Gorgeous.

"Can I suck your cock, Clark?"

Clark bucks up and groans, throwing his head back over the arm of the
couch. Throat stretched out and so beautiful.

Lex leans in just long enough to kiss his pulse point, bite down when Clark
arches up against his belly, rubs up blindly.

"Please, Lex... I don't think I can wait..."

"Yeah, okay..." Moves down his body, trailing fast, sloppy kisses down the
center of Clark's chest, biting at the muscle just below his navel. Licks the hair
there and thanks God Clark doesn't wear button-fly. Easy to get it open, and
Clark's boxers are wet where the head is leaking.

Lex wants to take his time, wants to *have* this, but he can see Clark's hands
out of the corner of his eyes. White-knuckled grip on the couch and tensed
beyond belief. On the edge. This will be fast.

"You have no idea how badly I've wanted to suck you off..." Peels the boxers
down and Clark's cock is just *ready* for his hand, for his mouth, for him. Dark
with blood and slick with pre-come. Scent so thick and heady Lex's own cock
twitches.

"Please..."

Lex grabs Clark around the root and swipes at the head with his tongue once,
twice. Already well beyond the foreskin, already *ready* and Clark is moaning,
trembling. Trying not to lose control and God, God.

Lex goes down.

Oh, yes.

Sweet stretch of his mouth, inch by inch, and the sounds Clark is making are
high, helpless things. Painfully virginal and ridiculously hot.

Needs this.

Lex sucks hard as he takes in the last inches, reaches his fist and squeezes.
Moves his hand and swallows, gripping Clark's hips and *pulling*.

"*Lex* --"

Urges Clark on until he starts to thrust on his own, and the taste. The feel. The
weight and raw power of having Clark's cock in his *mouth*.

Lex looks up, but Clark's eyes are closed tight, head rolling back and forth on the
armrest in breathless denial. Fucking up into Lex's throat and whimpering
constantly. Something vaguely recognizable as Lex's name, but mostly just
wordless pleas for more. So good.

And Lex manages to scrape a short nail along Clark's perineum just once before
Clark comes with a shout, spilling down his throat and shaking with the force of
it.

Lex pulls back to catch the taste. Sucks until Clark's moans begin to sound more
pained than anything else before pulling off with one last lick.

Clark is looking at him when he does, a gratifying mix of awe and pure stunned
happiness on his face. Lex crawls up Clark's body to kiss him, kiss him harder
when he feels Clark react to the taste of his own come -- a jerky shudder that
makes Lex need to thrust against his hip.

Bite at Clark's mouth and just *move* until he can feel Clark fumbling at his
pants again.

Hard to stop even then, and Lex presses his face against Clark's throat. Clean
sweat and some simple soap that Lex is doomed to find the scent of erotic for
the rest of his life.

Clark's hand cupping him through his own boxer-briefs is too good to be believed,
awkward and achingly sincere and Clark doesn't wait for permission.

Peels the briefs down and takes Lex in hand, stroking him slow and hard for much
too brief a time before taking his hand away.

"Wha...?"

Watches dazedly as Clark licks his palm with a kind of beautifully *dirty*
concentration, getting it shiny-wet. Can't hold in a groan and Clark's eyes are
heated again. Jesus. Too much. Clark pushes them back up on their knees.
Nudges Lex until he turns around. Awkward on the couch, but Clark keeps him
from falling.

Sucks hard on Lex's throat and whispers something almost unintelligible.
Something about 'watch,' and Lex doesn't think his brain could've handled the
full sentence.

Clark wraps his hand around him, palm to his cock, sealed with spit and
pre-come, slick and hot and wet and Lex thrusts before Clark even squeezes.

"This is... Jesus, Lex, you're so hot..."

"Nnn... just. Harder. Faster."

"Yeah, okay, I... Wow. I've never... you're fucking my *hand*, Lex --"

Lex throws his head back against Clark's shoulder and groans, flare of pain from
his bruises just a sick-hot little twist from skull to cock. Groans and pushes back
against Clark, the boy's cock a semi-hard *presence* against the base of his
spine. Pushing at that bundle of nerves, promising more, probably, than Clark
has ever even heard of and Lex doesn't think he's ever felt this *helpless*.

Couldn't stop if he wanted to, couldn't move, couldn't keep himself from begging
if Clark decided to stop, leave him like this. And so much beyond all of that to
something deeply terrifying, hazy beyond the alcohol and the hot, tight,
almost-pussy around his cock. Flexing around him and stroking, thumb doing
wicked things to the head of his cock and Lex will never be able to think of Clark
without imagining him doing this to himself.

"Is this... is this how you do yourself, Clark?"

"God, yeah... is it okay? You want... more?"

"Just don't stop --"

Clark bites him again, hard on the other side of his throat, mouthing and nuzzling.
Free hand half-clawing at Lex's nipples and he's close, so fucking close... "Never
thought you'd feel this good... I can do this all day..."

"*Clark*..."

"Oh. You sound... you sound like you're gonna come, Lex. Are you?"

"Oh *fuck* --" Orgasm like being burnt alive, like being bled dry, so much better
than anything he thought a first time with Clark would be like.

Shoots all over Clark's hand and his own belly and --

"Oh, *Lex*, Jesus that's so..."

Strong arm tight around him when his body tries to collapse and Clark is
kissing him, fast, hot little brushes of lips and teeth all over his throat, his
shoulders. Gentle on his scalp and Clark is rocking him.

Holding him so close.

"So good so good, God, can we do that again?"

Lex laughs breathlessly, coughs a little. No way he'd be upright if Clark wasn't
holding on. "Yes. And also *fuck* yes. God, Clark, that was..."

"Yeah. Jesus *yeah*."

And Clark is turning him around again, manhandling him expertly and
casually.

Kissing him hard for a long time before shifting away a little.

Watches Lex very seriously while he licks the come from his fingers. Sucks
them half-clean and then strips his cock lazily with his sticky hand.

"Clark..."

"I... Um. Not ready yet, but... I think I love the way you taste..."

"Oh. Wow."

Clark gives his cock a squeeze. Closes his eyes and it's impossibly easy to
just settle into kissing, tangled together on the couch, pants around their
ankles because it's too much effort to kick them off.

Clark tries to kiss him gently, but it always ends up wild. Lex can't quite stop
himself from that, even though he's not even close to ready for more.

They move into slow, easy, necking. Everything fading into the same warm
haze, champagne and sex and warmth. Worth.

"Mm. I should call my parents."

"Damn. You should go *home*."

"No, I think you might have a concussion."

"What?"

"I should wake you up every hour or so. You know, to make sure you're
okay." Clark's smile is warm and soft against Lex's ear.

Lex snorts. "I think I'm being a bad influence."

"Really? What was your first clue?"

"Now that's just wrong."

Clark nuzzles him for a while. "Hey, I got grounded for another *month* for
this. I've gotta make the best of it."

"Oh, well, so long as you have a *good* reason for breaking curfew to have
gay sex with an older man..."

"I need a reason for that?"

"... point taken."

End.