Disclaimers: If they were mine, no hurt would come without
adequate comfort.

Spoilers: Vague ones up through Stray.

Summary: Lex needs. Clark needs.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Author's Notes: I had a good dream, I wanted to share the feeling.
I'm not sure I succeeded. Hmm.

Acknowledgments: To my We, of course, especially Miss Spike for
poking me when I whined. Love also to Jenn and Livia for audiencing,
and extra love for Livia because she's cute and puts up with me at four
in the FREAKING morning and giving me a title.

Feedback is love, too. leytelj@gmail.com

*

Te says: I've decided I have a kink for Lexes who allow themselves
to be comforted, one way or another.

Spike says: Yeah. Me, too.

Te says: "Let me," Clark says. And it's a plea, yes, but he's afraid it
sounds more like a command. Lex in his arms, writhing just beneath
the skin like a tangle of snakes.

Spike says: ohhh

Spike says: tangle of snakes is beautiful Lexness.  write more.

Te says: Yes'm. *g*

Something like a snarl against Clark's throat and he shivers. There's
something horrible, rancid like medicine in the feel of this. Lex
shouldn't be struggling against him. Not with what's behind them,
with all it took to just get *Lex* out of this, let alone... Clark shakes
it off internally.

"Lex, *please*..." And he can't keep his voice from cracking and
he can't keep his cheeks from heating and he can't keep his heart
from thumping in ugly triumph. Because Lex stills.

Doesn't relax, but he's still in Clark's arms for long enough that
Clark can hold him a little tighter. Better.

Lean, hard muscle against him, one of Lex's arms crushed to his
side. The other is flexing, releasing. Scrabbling with terrible
weakness at the back of Clark's shirt.

Hot breath against Clark's throat, incongruously sweet. Lex had
gone against type and had some sort of candy. Maybe Mrs.
Milling's at the post office? That's where the abduction had... It's a
stupid question, absolutely unimportant and Lex makes another
sound.

Low, strangled. Clark can feel lips moving against his skin and it's
a struggle not to shiver. They aren't forming anything like words.

Carefully, slower than slow, Clark shifts one hand to the back of
Lex's head, shapes his palm to the smooth scalp, the funny little
knob he'd wanted to touch for so long now. So long.

The skin is cool, not quite damp in the lowering fog. Clark has
always hated fog, like trying to run through endless spiderwebs,
through wet smoke that stank of everything the wind should've
blown away.

Blood, and manure, and cordite. Lex's cologne faint and meaningless
despite how close they are.

Lex doesn't fight when Clark pulls his head down and in, pressing his
face against his chest. Holding him there. Gentle, yes, but firm. Firm.
Allow no questions, or the animal will be spooked and this time
Clark's the one strangling on words he doesn't know.

Sudden grab and Lex has the back of Clark's shirt fisted in one palm.
Strength back in an instant. For Clark.

Ah, God. Lex.

Dead *thunk* behind him and they both jump. They've both had
more than enough time to get used to the sound of ambulance doors
closing.

Scrape of gravel closer behind. One of the paramedics. There's no
need for them to rush, of course.

"Mr. Kent --"

"I'll get him home," Clark says, and wonders if his voice sounds
adult enough to be trusted.

Heavy hand on his free shoulder, just long enough to squeeze, and
the scent of blood (it's Lionel's blood, it has to be, he hadn't hit the
kidnapper in any way that would bleed, not like that not that much)
is stronger for a moment.

And then the hand is gone, and then the footsteps are gone, and
Clark doesn't relax until he can't hear the ambulance anymore.

Lex is a tight, hot bundle of muscle just beneath his rumpled clothes.
His breathing is even as a sleeper's, his heart thundering erratic
against Clark.

"I won't let you go," Clark says, because it's the only thing he can
think of.

Or... the only thing with words. There are images. Discomfort and
angered sympathy in his father's eyes, pure pity in his mother's.
Lex slumped and dead-eyed in their kitchen, leaching light and heat
out of the world.

He can't take that. He *couldn't* take that, and Clark isn't sure
which of them he's thinking about.

"Please," Clark says, and shudders when Lex does. The fog and the
dank and the wet and the blood is all somewhere behind Clark's
back, but he thinks Lex can see it anyway.

He doesn't dare hold Lex any tighter, but he has to squeeze him,
get closer. Close enough to... something. Ducks his head and presses
his cheek to Lex's scalp and breathes in fear-sweat and anger-sweat
and something that he hopes and fears is grief.

Lex.

There's a rough, aching voice screaming just behind Clark's tongue
with all the things he wants to say to Lex, all the things that don't
belong on this stupid pitted road under a sky that doesn't deserve
the name.

He brushes his lips against the curve of Lex's head as he pulls back,
instead. A weak and lying compromise that will have to do for now.

Turns them around so that Lex's back is to the stains on the road
and grips him by the shoulders.

Lex isn't looking at him, or anything. His eyes and cheeks are dry,
his mouth a deceptively slack line of indifference. There are bruises
fading on his cheek and throat. The fabric of Clark's shirt has left
fading welts.

The police have been gone for a while, having taken only the briefest
of possible (preliminary?) statements from Lex.

Clark doesn't want anyone here for... this. Whatever this is. "Lex...
where do you want to go?"

"I have to go to Metropolis," he says, without a pause. "I need to
be seen. There are phone calls to be made, meetings..." Lex blinks
then, seems to focus on some middle distance.

"Lex, no..."

Flash of something bright and terrible in eyes like wet slate.
"LuthorCorp needs a head. Now."

Clark squeezes once and tries to pull Lex against him. The struggle
is immediate and fierce. Shudderingly creepy in the way that Lex
never actually focuses on him while he fights. Never says a word,
lips pulled back in a silent snarl.

"Oh God, Lex, please let me --"

Ducks a sudden punch that would've broken a normal man's jaw,
or Lex's hand.

Hears himself whine high in his throat as he finally just grabs Lex's
wrists and holds them behind the man's body with one hand and
drags him close with the other.

"Clark."

"I'm right here, Lex, and you can't --"

"Clark. Let me go."

"Lex --"

"If you let me go now, we can forget this ever happened, and go
on about our lives --"

"Your father is *dead*, Lex! Jesus, stop trying to pretend it doesn't
matter!"

"Of course it matters. Just like it matters that you've been lying to
me for *months* and I've *let it slide*. Now. Now." Lex's eyes
focus on him, sudden and harsh and dryer than ever. "Get the fuck
off me, Clark."

Clark doesn't bother trying to hold in a flinch, another at Lex's
humorless smile. But. "I won't."

Smile gone in a blink, back faster. "Will you break my wrists when I
fight? Dislocate my shoulders? Knock me unconscious and drag me
back to Little House in the Motherfucking Cornfield so Ma can make
me soup and Pa can tell me how much better off I am without a
father?"

And it stings, but (a mother, a brother) this is what friendship *is*,
isn't it? Clark shakes his head and forces himself to *focus*. Tries
to will Lex into *seeing* him. Clark. His friend. "I won't hurt you."

"I *will* fight."

"We can go anywhere you want, Lex, but I'm not leaving and I'm
not... I'm not leaving."

No warning but the flickering smile before Lex is snapping himself
*down*, arms pulled up high and tight, nearly perpendicular to his
shoulderblades and the vicious *pop* makes Clark let go before
he can think.

Sharp gasp and Lex is turning, running hard with his right arm
dangling uselessly, running, running straight at the stains, the blood,
scuffing gravel --

"Lex, no!"

Clark runs after at human speed, sucking rank, wet air and seriously
considering scrapping secrecy when Lex stumbles, flails on the edge
of falling.

Obviously off-balance, head tilted to the sky, left arm grasping right
and oh fuck Jesus *yanking* --

Sharply swallowed scream and Lex takes off again, strides lengthening,
evening. Natural runner and he never even looks at the blood, running
further into the country and away from everything but distant
Metropolis.

"Lex, *stop*!"

And Clark knows, *knows* he can outrun Lex, but this, ah God,
doesn't want to just tackle him. Doesn't want to be the one to... and
he isn't sure what it is that's stopping him, but he just keeps
running.

At the very least, Lex will tire before he does.

Still, he nearly runs into him. Lex is standing, rigid and staring and
still at the side of the road. Staring into the fog and breathing only
a little hard.

"Lex...?"

Choked sound, something like a sob, and Clark can't hesitate. Wraps
his arms around Lex's waist and hauls him back against his body,
burying his face in Lex's neck and stroking his chest.

Another sob.

Another.

"Oh, Lex..."

And Lex is... laughing. Great hoarse whoops of laughter that shake
Lex's whole body, and it's not like he's heard Lex laugh all that
often, and never uncontrolled, but this is...

This is Lex, head thrown back on Clark's shoulder, hands pulling
and squeezing at Clark's forearms, screaming laughter to the sky
like something broken.

And then just screaming, each shuddery inhalation making Clark
tense and wait for the sound of it, for the way the fog both muffles
and amplifies and Clark can't do anything but cry.

And hold Lex until he's silent.

Until he's ready to walk back.

It's edging on night when they get to the castle, an unspoken
compromise between them -- Lex makes his phone calls and sets
up his meetings and dictates the sort of unconsciously appropriate
press release that makes Clark's gut roil.

And Clark stays as close as he can, after calling home just long
enough to let his parents know what's going on.

The servants are even more absent than usual, the castle precisely
the sort of tomb to make Clark reconsider trying to drag Lex back
to the farm.

How stupid was he to think that he could possibly make a difference
against... this? Doesn't even know whether he should or how he
*could* encourage Lex to ease up on the brandy.

It doesn't dull his eyes any. It doesn't slow the flex and work of
muscle just beneath the skin.

Clark feels very young, and very lucky, and very stupid, and very,
very scared.

Lex stares at the television, some movie Clark can't remember the
name of on instead of the news reports that Lex had kept changing
the station to.

Lex hadn't fought Clark on the movie issue.

Lex hasn't said anything to Clark since they've gotten here, beyond
asking him if *he* needed anything. He'd thought about saying
something along the lines of "you being okay," but couldn't even
come close to making himself say it.

And now he's on the big, soft couch and Lex is on the big, soft
chair, and the only light is the endless television flicker and Lionel
Luthor is dead.

Or... no. Lex's *dad* is dead.

Or maybe both.

Does Lex know it's both? Does it make a difference?

Something of a jolt when he looks up and realizes that Lex is
staring at him, hardly blinking.

Just... staring.

"Lex?"

"You should go home, Clark." His voice is hoarse from. From
earlier.

"My parents know where I am."

Fluttered blinks and Lex looks down for a moment. "You should
go home anyway."

"You shouldn't be alone."

"Joachim is here, and I believe his mother is visiting..." Voice so
calm and so full of shit.

"You know that isn't what I mean, Lex."

"I... Clark."

Nothing to do but move to Lex, kneel next to the chair and try to
encourage him to look at something other than the carpeting with
body language. Clark has the strong suspicion he looks ridiculous.
He doesn't know what else to do. "I won't --"

"Please, Clark. I'm asking you to leave."

"Why?"

Soft, shocked laugh. "Please tell me you didn't just ask that
question."

"I thought you didn't like it when I lied to you..." Clark tries on a
rueful smile.

"Clark --"

"Look, Lex. I know you. I know you're really attached to the idea
that no one can see you hurting, but... it's better this way. When.
When you're not alone."

Lex's mouth twisted in the flickering shadows. "Didn't you get
enough Luthor pain out... out on the road? Didn't I cry enough for
you?"

"Fuck, Lex, don't do this. I *know* this is hard, but I really need
you to remember who you're talking to here. It's... it's me, okay?
I'm your friend, and I... I care about you a lot, and the last thing I
want is for you to hurt alone." Clark swallows, a dry click that
makes him wish he hadn't refused a drink.

Reaches out slowly, tentatively for Lex's knee and cups the warm,
solid cap of it. There are curves on Lex, if you know where to
touch.

Clark shivers inside and tries to figure out a quick, easy reason for
that, something to let him push the question aside until he has
more time for it, but Lex's hand is in his hair and there *is* no
time.

Just... contact. Absolutely necessary contact, and some small but
very insistent part of Clark wants him to focus on finding a
moderately respectable way to wrap as much of himself as possible
around Lex, to hold him and hold him until Lex gave up and
accepted it.

Clark rests his head on Lex's thigh instead, some vague instinct
telling him this might be easier on them both. To let Lex be the one
who chooses to touch, for Clark to be the one who is touched.
Frustrating and rueful, too, in the way he suspects they'll never be
able to laugh about, even though they should. Someday.

Lex pets him slowly, hesitantly at first. A pause at his cheek, another
at his throat. Clark is reasonably sure Lex is asking permission, but
can't think of anything to say that wouldn't break the moment.

Settles for shifting into every touch as much as possible, scooting a
little closer every time Lex seems to relax a little. It's a game, and
Clark doesn't know if it's a stupid one or not.

It's a necessary one, though. Some kind of relief in being connected
to Lex, in being *here* for him, and offering the only thing he can.

More words he can't say out loud, another compromise in the way
he strokes Lex's knee instead, in the way he turns his head just
enough that Lex's fingers brush his mouth.

A kiss of circumstance, but Lex is less hesitant now. A firmer comb
through his hair, heavier touch on his cheek and throat. Clark hmms
a little at the back of his throat. "Lex."

And Lex freezes, starts to pull away. "I'm sorry, I --"

Clark winces, looks up to find Lex staring into the distance again.
Squeezes Lex's knee again. "No, it's okay. I was just... I was just
going to say it feels good."

Small, shocking smile. "You'd do just about anything to comfort me,
wouldn't you? Whether I want to be comforted or not."

Clark grins ruefully. "Well... it's not much of a hardship to sit around
watching movies while getting petted, Lex."

Hand on his face, more callused than his own and almost as big. Lex
brushes his thumb along Clark's cheekbone. "Is that what this is?
What people do when... when they need? Hug and cuddle and touch
until it's all better?"

And Clark knows enough now to know that Lex is only half-mocking,
that the mockery has more to do with everything Lex doesn't want to
show than anything else. "Nothing makes it *all* better, Lex. C'mon,
you know that." Strokes Lex's thigh before he can think better or
worse of it, and Lex is tilting his head up.

Serious as it should be, but maybe in the wrong way?

It's... intimate. Clark doesn't mind, though he wishes he had a better
idea of what he's supposed to do. "I just want to be here for you,
Lex."

"Because you're my friend." It isn't quite a question.

Can't hold back a frown, because Lex is right, but... he also isn't. It's
more than that, or maybe less. Clark can't imagine *wanting* to be
anywhere but here, right now, and he suspects there's more than
one thing he doesn't want to think about behind *that*. "Because I
can be. And because I don't think I'd get much done if I left you
here." Close enough to the truth. Maybe.

"You have a martyr complex that would frustrate a nun, Clark."

"This isn't about being a martyr!"

And Lex pulls his hand away, reaches for his glass. "No?"

"Christ, Lex. If it's this hard to hug you --" Clark cuts himself off,
biting his lip and trying to tell himself he doesn't really know what
he was going to say.

"I don't think it's hard for you to hug me at all. You're certainly
strong enough..."

And is it fucked up that something like *that* counted as a relief?
"Yeah, and you're about as huggable as a cactus on Miracle Gro."

Lex snorts. "I don't see you bleeding."

"Flannel absorbs like nobody's business, Lex." Tries another smile and
gets a small, real one in return.

"Clark... I don't want to push you away --"

Kneels up and grabs Lex's shoulders, noting not-entirely-absently the
way Lex *doesn't* wince. Stroking with his thumbs. "So don't. I'm
here, Lex, Jesus, *use* me."

Choked laugh. "You... make a hell of a case, Clark --"

"*Good*, so *listen* to me --"

"But I don't..." And Lex puts the glass back down, scrubbing a hand
over his scalp and flicking his glance over the whole of the room,
either seeing nothing or everything.

Clark squeezes a little. "You don't what, Lex? Tell me."

Sharp inhale. "I don't know how to *do* this. Christ, don't you get
that, yet?"

Clark tamps down the irritation as best he can. Easy enough with
the image of Lionel's last look of surprise, one eye bright red from
whatever horrible thing had happened inside his brain before he
died and no, Jesus, no. "*Lex*. Just let me show you. Please."

And Lex still isn't looking at him, but he doesn't resist when Clark
pulls him to the floor, when Clark ignores the thumping of his own
heart to arrange Lex in front of him, between his legs. When Clark
wraps his arms around Lex's waist and pulls him close. So good.

So *right*.

Back to Lex's chair and endless movie going on and on, just loud
enough to cover small sounds. Quiet enough that Clark has no
trouble focusing on anything but the man in his arms.

"Admit it, you're a giant teddy bear."

"I knew you had secret hair issues."

Something wonderful, something breaking to feel Lex's laughter more
than hear it, and Clark settles until he can get as much contact as
possible, nuzzling Lex's scalp when he leans back. Thinks about doing
it again when it makes Lex sigh.

He wants this to be *good* for Lex, because... because it's *right*
for it to be good. Everyone needs someone to hold, right?

Not the whole truth, and he's getting so tired of lying to himself. To
everyone.

If it's good for Lex, then he can do this anytime he wants to, maybe.
He wouldn't have to wait and watch for Lex to put down those
invisible shields he wears, or maybe Lex would just never wear them
around *him*.

And that would be... God, it would mean so *much*, and he feels a
little disloyal for that, because he *has* friends, good friends, but it
had to be okay that this meant more. That Lex would give *this* to
him, along with everything else. All the immaterial things his parents
couldn't object to, that Clark had spent so much time not noticing.

Now, though... who else would Lex allow this with?

Clark doesn't feel quite so young anymore. Or, he does, but it's not
as important as the warmth inside, and the absolute need to get this
right.

Strokes Lex's chest and stomach, frowning a little at the feel of the
rumpled shirt. Imperfection and Lex didn't go together, not when it
came to things like clothes. Maybe part of what made it harder for
Lex to give in to this?

"I won't let you go," he says, and Lex stiffens once before relaxing.

"Clark, you have no idea --"

"So give me one."

"Shouldn't challenge a man when he's down, Clark." Lex's voice is
amused, low.

"Oh, I..."

"You never know what he'll do." Hand on Clark's thigh, warm and
heavy and strong.

Clark squeezes Lex closer obligingly, but it makes Lex hiss. Restless
again, though he doesn't move away. Turns his face to Clark's throat
and breathes, slow and deep. Warm skin, now, but just as sleek. So
many words Clark wants to say, blurt out in a rush and run away
screaming and he *can't*. Strokes Lex's scalp instead. "Do you want
to talk?"

"About my father? No. I think I did enough of that when he was.
Alive."

"Lex..."

"God, don't... don't fucking *scold* me, Clark. Just... give me this.
You want me to use you? Fine. Let me pretend you being this close
has nothing to do with anything bleak and and -- *fuck*." Lex stiff in
his arms again, very obviously waiting for Clark to let him go.
Shaking just a little.

Clark squeezes Lex, pulls him back. Holds him there until he relaxes
again. "We can do anything you want, Lex, I promise, I won't let you
go."

Laugh choked on a sob. "Don't. Oh, God, Clark, please don't. I
*can't*."

"*Please*, Lex, let me be here for you, I want... God, I just want
this so bad." And Lex is shaking in his arms, shaking like he's
*freezing*, or about to just lose it and Clark has to hold him closer,
has to fold his legs up around Lex's own and kiss his scalp. Real
kisses, if dry ones.

He can't say the words, but he can do *this*, can listen to Lex call
his name and feel Lex move against him, with him, and it's not as
much of a surprise as it should be when he finds Lex's mouth with
his own, or Lex finds his. It's nothing but heat and acid sweetness
and Lex turning in his arms, holding Clark's head still and kissing him
so hard and hot and *wet*.

"So good, Lex, I've wanted please --"

Lex makes a noise like a wounded animal and kisses him again.
Again. Harder every time and Clark feels Lex's lip split, tastes his
blood and tries to make things gentler, but Lex won't allow it.

Hands at his throat now, unbuttoning Clark's flannel clumsily and
then just ripping it, making Clark gasp and Lex's tongue is ruthless.
Fucking into his mouth over and over and his hands are all over him.
Nails scraping down Clark's chest through the t-shirt, down to his
waist to pet him and scratch him more, tugging at Clark's t-shirt
and only pulling back long enough to get it up over his head and
then.

God.

Lex. Eyes wild and hungry and desperate and so bleak. Shaking
hands and bruised mouth and an unspoken dare for Clark to stop
him. Reject him.

And a part of Clark is screaming for him to do just that, to do
anything but *this* *now*, but Lex.

Lex is right there.

Wanting him, or at least wanting something close to what Clark
can give. "Anything," he says again, and snatches Lex's hand when
he moves to back away.

Places it over his crotch and presses down, bucks up into the
pressure. "Oh God, Clark -- you..."

"Yes," and that's all he has time to get out before Lex is on him
again, hands all over and every kiss stings like a bite, like
something electric and deadly. Clark's hands feel stupid, clumsy
on Lex's back, but Lex pushes back into every touch, encouraging
with his body, tearing his own shirt off and oh, God, *skin*.

Silky hot and so smooth under his hands, muscles shifting just
beneath the skin in the kind of restlessness he doesn't have to
worry about. It's okay to have this, to give themselves this, and
Lex feels so *good*.

Pushing against him sliding them together, chest to chest and --

"More, Clark, I need --" Lex shakes his head, rolls Clark over
onto his back and kisses his way down his chest, quick but weirdly
not perfunctory. Something Lex had obviously wanted to do, but
doesn't have time right now to do *well*. Clark can understand.

Laughs to himself a little helplessly and pets Lex's cheek once,
again. Gets his fingers sucked in fast and deep for a heart-stopping
moment and then Lex is working on his jeans. Getting them open,
pushing him down, taking him out and -- "*Lex*!"

Swallowing him whole. Face pressed to Clark's belly and hands on
his hips, squeezing and lifting until Clark can't help thrusting,
fucking his way into Lex's tight, hot throat and grabbing for the
carpet to keep from holding his head.

Too many shocks to take, too many things to *feel*, and Clark
thinks his brain is lagging, knows it is when he realizes that he has
no words for how good this feels, how much he needs Lex to
keep doing *exactly* what he's doing for just a few more minutes,
seconds, *God*.

Hears himself moaning over the wet sounds, the good sounds of
Lex's mouth on his *cock*, and he'd barely gotten around to letting
himself picture this when he was jerking off, when he was just so
close, so close, and he thinks he might be babbling, might be losing
his mind to this.

"*Lex* --" It's the only word he can remember how to form, the
only important thing in the world. His palms ache with the need to
just *touch* him, to stroke and hold and thank him for this...
God, this searing incredible *energy* in him and oh, he loves, he
loves so *much*.

Comes gasping, arching up and up into Lex's sweet throat before
slamming back down to the floor. Lex follows him, sucking him
down, milking him for every last drop and Clark is whimpering but
he can't make himself push Lex away.

Turns his face into the carpet and gasps, begging little noises that
don't fade until Lex is kissing him again. Just as hard as before, his
tongue slick with Clark's come. And Lex and brandy and sex... too
much. Clark groans into the kiss and wraps his arms around Lex.
Holds him close, spreading his legs to get closer still and --

"Too good, Clark, you're too good --"

"Oh, Lex, you're so hard..."

Breathy laugh. "Surprise..."

"You have to tell me what you want. What you want me to do. I
don't... I've never..."

"God, Clark, you..."

Pulls Lex into another kiss and holds him there, tries to will Lex
into looking at him. "*Tell* me."

Lex doesn't open his eyes for long, silent moments. "Come to bed
with me."

Sweet, stupid shock of it all through him, and the only possible
answer is yes. Licks his lips and watches Lex watching him and it's
good to be like this, pressed down and held and holding. Holding
Lex to him until enough of his brain is back for him to stand.

Does up his fly with shaking fingers that Lex grabs, kisses and
nuzzles before letting them go.

Up dimly lit stairs and Clark wants to be holding Lex again. Only
the thought of Lex's bed keeping him from just grabbing Lex on
the landing and wrapping himself around him. Lex's need
something palpable, psychic and calling to his own. He can *have*
this, he can be this for Lex, this want Clark already knows he won't
let Lex deny when the alcohol wears off, or the grief.

It should be more frightening than it is, he thinks, but the idea is
fleeting. Unimportant with Lex undoing his belt and tossing it
across the room. Back turned and Clark can't decide if that's a
kindness or not.

Pale skin in moonlight and all the scars are invisible this way.

Clark can be invisible, too.

He doesn't want to be.

Toes off his boots and moves to the bed, just in front and to the
side of Lex. He wants Lex to see him stripping. Socks, pants,
shorts. Everything. Wants Lex to know he's here for this.
Everything. Anything.

Looks up to find Lex absolutely still. Watching him, hands
twitching at his sides, fly just barely undone. Clark watches Lex's
face as he reaches out, as he helps Lex take the rest of his clothes
off. Fine wool pants and silk boxers that make him smile even as
his hands can't seem to stop *petting* them.

Long, lean muscle and hard cock and Clark knows his mouth is
open but can't quite seem to figure out what he should do about
that. Lex finally sits beside him, so much skin right *there*. Head
bent and legs crossed, tugging his socks off and leaving them
where they fall.

There's a stillness in him now, a kind of slowing that makes
something hurt inside Clark. Instinct wants him to be holding Lex
again, and Clark sees no reason to deny it. Wraps one arm
somewhat awkwardly around Lex's chest and hauls them both up on
the bed, watching Lex's fingers dance over his bicep, his expression
calculating and unfocused for long moments until he finally looks
into Clark's eyes.

"Yes, I am," he says, and Lex nods. Too many expressions in his
eyes for Clark to puzzle out.

"There are worse things I could've given up for your secrets, Clark."
Black amusement.

"No, Lex, I --"

"Don't. Don't tell me your telling me now has nothing to do with
pity."

"Christ, I was waiting..." Trails off helplessly.

"Waiting for *what*, Clark?"

"Okay, Lex, you tell *me* when's the best time to tell your best
friend, the guy you want to have *sex* with, that you're an alien
with superpowers. 'Oh, hey, you know that dumbass comic book
you're obsessed with? Well, I've got something to tell you...'"
Wants to pull away and wants to just press Lex down into the
too-soft mattress and make him *hear* him. Understand.

But Lex is just staring at him.

"Well? Got any good answers? Because I'd *love* to hear them."

"Alien."

"Yeah, Lex. *Alien*. Spaceship in the *goddamn* storm cellar and
waiting for the rest of my people to come down and start the
colonization process. If they haven't already."

"Really?"

"What? No! Or... I mean... shit, Lex, I have no *idea*. That's kind
of the point. If I could just say, 'oh, hey, yeah, I'm superstrong,
or, oh, yeah, Lex, when did you break your tibia, because that's a
nasty looking fracture you've got there,' things would be a lot
easier. Instead... I don't *know*, okay? It's something new
practically every day and I didn't ask for any of it and... God. You
are so fucking *good* at making people focus on anything *but*
you, aren't you?"

"Alien?"

Clark laughs helplessly and buries his face in his hands. Naked, in
Lex's bed, and they're talking about *this*. Scrubs his hands
through his hair and looks over to find Lex staring at him with
something like stunned wonder. "You wanted to know? Now you
do. So can we please get back to what we were doing?"

"Would that be the interspecies sex?"

"Yes, Lex, that would be the interspecies sex. Though you seem
to be in damned good shape for a guy who dislocated his own
fucking *shoulder* a few hours ago.

"If you shut up and let me hold you I promise to tell my leaders
not to torch Metropolis." Grins down at Lex and gets a grin in
return that lasts just long enough to let Clark breathe.

Fades slowly, almost crumbling on Lex's face and yeah, this is
what happens when people die. No one's ever supposed to
smile, or laugh, but they do anyway, and then they feel like
complete and utter shit about it. At least, that's the way it
worked when his grandmother died, and his grandmother had
been...

She hadn't been anyone who made loving her complicated.

Clark rolls closer to Lex and wraps a tentative arm around him.
Slow enough for Lex to stop him, just in case he was really
freaking about the whole alien thing. God. One more thing to worry
about for the morning after, and is he really this selfish? Shakes
his head at himself and squeezes Lex hard for a moment.

"You're allowed to laugh at things, you know. It doesn't make
you... whatever you're thinking it does."

Lex turns away, mouth twisting. "My father would be proud."

"C'mon, Lex, we know it isn't like that."

"Clark... Clark." Lex's hand on his, still. "Do you ever have those
moments where you realize that you don't know jack shit about
anything?"

"You mean other than every time I see you?"

Rueful smile. "I'm sorry. I never want to... treat you the same
way I treat the rest of the world? Ah, fuck, Clark. I don't know
anything. I'm only a few years older than you, and when you're
my age you'll be twice as smart and you'll look back on... on all
of *this* and wonder what the fuck you were thinking to get
involved with a. With me."

"I want you. And you seemed pretty interested in me, so..."

"And you think that's enough?"

"Isn't it all we ever get?"

Lex snorts. "Jesus Christ, I hope not. God. Come here. Please.
Just... come here and let me feel you... yeah. Get on top of me."

"But..."

"You're the one with X-Ray vision. Don't my ribs look fine to you?"

"They've been cracked a *lot*, Lex."

"Yeah, well. Smallville kicks my ass on a fairly regular basis. You
may have noticed, what with all the life-saving. Just... God. Yes.
You're so warm. Are you always this warm?"

Settles half on top of Lex as gently as he can, bracing himself on
his elbow and pushing his face into Lex's neck. "I think... it's like I
can always feel the sun. Even when I can't see it."

"There's a really terrible poem in there somewhere..."

"Want me to write it?"

"No. Just... no."

"Are you sure? Because it could double as extra credit for English
class."

"Clark. You said you loved me."

"I... oh." Apparently, that *was* out loud. "Well. I've been wanting.
To say that. I mean... you don't have to --"

"You have to know you're the reason I stayed. Pissing off my father.
Pissing off my father was just the gravy. I've never. There's never
been anyone like you for me, Clark. And I think that must be love,
right?"

Clark grins ruefully, kisses Lex's throat. Does it again when it makes
him suck in a breath. "I hope so."

"I'll protect your secrets. I'll never let anyone hurt you, you have to
trust me Clark, you have to believe that --"

Clark shifts just enough to catch Lex's mouth with his own, swallows
Lex's moan and lets himself revel in the feel of Lex just *taking* his
mouth. Kisses of pure desperate honesty and it's what he wants.
It's what he won't give up for anything. "I believe you. I trust you."

"I've done so many things... ah, God, Clark, I feel so fucking... why
can't any of this make *sense*?" Broken sound to Lex's voice and a
different kind of acid in Lex's mouth. Lex the kind of man where
tears always hurt, always burn.

I don't know, Clark thinks, but he doesn't want to say it loud. It's
just too... it's better than some stupid platitude, but it still isn't any
good. Not as good as kissing salt off Lex's cheeks and putting just
a little more weight on. Keeping Lex still, safe between Clark and
the mattress, where he can be kissed and stroked and loved in a
way Clark doesn't have to trip over with his idiot tongue.

Strokes down Lex's chest, again just to *feel* him. Lex is so lean,
so hard and silky and male and Clark doesn't want to do anything
that would take him away from this. Watches Lex's face and lets
his hand slip lower. He's not as hard as he was, but he's still so
amazingly *real* against Clark's palm.

Firm and hot and vulnerable.

"Clark..."

"Do you want me to keep doing this? Or... I mean we don't have to,
but I'd like to. I'd like to suck you, Lex. And --"

Hard, strong hand on his face and Lex's eyes are open. Heated and
dark. "No. I want to see your face. Just... just keep looking at me."

And that's... *so* not difficult at all. Shifts enough to get an easier
angle and strokes and squeezes and watches. Lex's eyes so open,
so much sadness and want and the kind of love that Clark can't help
but believe in.

Needs it the way his grandmother needed the church, maybe,
roots and rain and Clark feels so *full*. Moans at the feel of Lex
thickening, lengthening in his hand and has to look. Has to see Lex's
cock disappearing into his fist, peeking out wet and shiny.

Lex's hands on him, one hand squeezing his shoulder and the other
wrapped loosely around his neck, flexing every time Clark twists,
just a little.

"Clark, oh Clark, please..."

Looks up hungrily and Lex is gasping, mouth open, each breath
catching on a rough, low note deep in his chest. Helpless moan
that Clark's helpless not to echo. "You're so incredible, Lex. So
sexy and I've dreamed this. Fantasized..."

Lex bites his swollen lip, squeezes Clark's shoulder and starts to
pump into Clark's fist.

Fucking his *hand*. Clark makes a noise he doesn't want to classify
and kisses Lex hard, sucks his bottom lip and tastes more blood
but Lex doesn't seem to mind. "Do you want to know what I thought
about?"

Lex's head whips back and forth on the pillow, eyes closed for
long moments and his cock pulses in Clark's hand. Wet. So slick
and the *sound* of it. Nothing he'd ever really thought he'd hear
outside of his own bed.

"I wanted it. Just like this. Watching you while I... while I jerked
you off --"

"Clark, *yes* --" Eyes open so wide, so wondering and open and
Clark doesn't want to blink, doesn't want to miss a moment.

Speeds his hand and wants to be everything for Lex in a scary,
cliff-diving way that he doesn't think he can *survive*. Everything
he can do for Lex, everything he can be and it's close enough to
touch. Like leaning hard against a paper wall to be like this, to be
here with Lex so open for him, so accepting and Clark wants to cry
and he wants to kiss Lex until he runs out of breath, until it kills
them both --

"Oh *God* --!"

And it's only the feel of Lex coming all over his hand that tells Clark
that he's been speaking aloud.

But he can't find shame for that. Only need. Drops kisses all over
Lex's face, wiping his hand on the coverlet and rolling them on
their sides. Slips his thigh between Lex's and hauls him close,
swallowing breathless laughter with more kisses. More.

His.

Pulls back just enough to be able to see Lex across the pillow,
eyes only just open, tiny smile on his lips. And this is beauty for
him now. Maybe always was.

"You know, Clark..."

"Hmm?"

"As much as I like being tangled like this, someone *is* going to
have to turn off the light."

Turn off the light. He's going to stay. Lex isn't going to fight him
on staying. Clark knows he's grinning like the village idiot and he
absolutely doesn't care. "Are you sure I can't just throw something
at the lamp and hope it breaks?"

"Well, I wasn't *planning* on ending the evening by setting my
bedroom on fire, but never let it be said that I'm not adaptable..."
Reaches past Clark and nabs a pillow. "Please. Destroy my antiques
at will."

Clark snorts and whacks Lex with the pillow gently. "*Fine*, I'll turn
off the lamp the rational, non-destructive way." Eases away from
Lex as slowly as he can, wanting every inch of skin and getting quite
a bit as he reaches over him.

"Mm. So warm..."

Jerks when Lex licks him and nearly smashes the lamp anyway. He
doesn't mind that, either.

The darkness is the sudden, absolute kind you only get when you've
gotten accustomed to dimness, and it's awkward to get back into
position without elbowing Lex too many times -- "Sorry."

Brief chuckle. "Next time *I'll* get the light."

"Incompetence is its own reward, Lex."

Something like a purr as Lex throws his leg over Clark's. "I'll take
your word for it."

"God, you feel so good..." Deep, companionable silence in the dark,
and Clark is close to dozing before Lex says anything else.

"I'm not sure how I'll let you leave in the morning, Clark." The blank
voice he uses when he's being more serious than he wants to be.

"I'll stay as long as you want me to."

"Shh. No tempting the morally compromised. It's just bad policy."
Hand in Clark's hair, stroking slowly. Soothing.

"I mean it."

"Ah, God, Clark..."

"Lex --"

"I know you do. I know. And this is me, not saying anything about
all the reasons why me kidnapping you is a bad idea."

Can't hold back a shiver at the thought. Never having to leave, never
having to give this up, never letting anything else matter... some
sweet and terrible mix of horror and need. I love you, he thinks,
and turns his head up to press a kiss to Lex's wrist, soft and
lingering. "I won't let you go."

Lex stiffens for a moment, relaxes with a long exhale. "And I won't run."

It's enough.

End.