Whosoever Loveth And Maketh A Lie
by Te
December 2001

Disclaimer: No one here belongs to me. Dammit.

Spoilers: Vague ones for the Pilot, and. Er. The Bible.

Summary: Another push.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Author's Note: This is a direct sequel to Basingstoke's "Viceroy" snippet, part of her absolutely perverse "Five Things That Aren't True," which can be found here:


Read that first. Marvel. Because, if you don't, this won't make any sense.

Oh, and even though Bas graciously let me play in her sandbox, none of the blame is hers.

Acknowledgments: To my sweet Webrain and the luscious LaT for audiencing and poking me when my ego started endangering the story's health, and marvelous Merry Lynne, too. And, of course, to Livia for Clark's... well. Just read. And #smallville. And John of Patmos, for being such an unbelievable crackhead.

Title from the Spike, and the above crackhead.

You'll note, none of these people were crucified for telling me where I could stick my artistic pretensions, so... :

Feedback makes the baby Jesus smile. teland793@sbcglobal.net


He's beautiful.

He always has been, of course, but now... Lex doesn't think anyone would blame him for being affected by that extra gloss from Up Above.

Clark is standing in the corner, hugging himself loosely. Well, less tightly than he was before Lex opened his bedroom window to him. His third floor window. Clark's head is bowed, hair still wild and curled from the wind.


The wings are the purest white he's ever seen, their strength and softness palpable even from a distance. Just now, they're curled ever so slightly in. Shelter Clark is, consciously or not, currently refusing.

When Clark looks up, there are tears in his eyes.

Lex can't hold the laugh in one. Second. Longer. Nearly doubles him over. Nearly makes him lose his hat. That, perhaps more than the shocked pain in Clark's eyes, makes him calm down again.

Perhaps less.

They're blue in this light. As vivid as anything else, everything else about him. Clark is more real than anything Lex has ever seen... other than his father's eyes.

Other than the horns on his head.

But, really... the cosmic jokes just keep on coming, don't they?

"I'm not laughing at you, Clark. I promise."

The smile Clark gives him is cracked. Achingly false. "Hey, it's okay. I mean... half-naked winged guy. Pretty funny."

"The powers that be joke in mysterious ways?"

Clark's brow furrowed. "What does that have to do with it?"

And Lex is just about to get angry, but... Clark's serious. Absolutely serious. "I think I need a drink."

"Got one for me?"

Pauses him for maybe half a heartbeat. "Oh, yes. You need a drink, too. It won't do a damned thing for either of us, but... well. Tradition." Tradition is ever so important these days, isn't it?


Bites his cheek to keep from laughing at the puzzled look on Clark's face.

Hands a snifter to Clark and gestures him toward the couch. Grabs the biggest bottle he can find beneath the bar and turns to find the boy -- the angel, keep it straight, Lex -- eyeing the couch with a pained look.


"Can you lift them?"

Clark slumps a little. "Flying is... easy. Really easy. I remember what you said that day... I." Clark swallows audibly. "Moving the. Moving the wings in other ways has mostly led to property damage." Rueful glance, half-blocked by a proud arch of white.

"I don't suppose they're designed for convenience, no..." Oh, Clark. Fuck. "Okay, let's see if I can help. Back up to the couch a little... yeah."

Lex moves behind the couch and tries to figure things out. He'd never liked physics all that much. This close he can see the way the wings sprout from... something. Some things just between the normal shoulderblades. If Clark wasn't as broad as he is, the effect would probably be a little cramped.

As it is, there's only... beauty.

Tanned muscle flexing and releasing and flexing again, seemingly at his proximity. Lex can believe that. This close, there's an... itch.

His hands long to touch for reasons he'd like to believe were wholly prurient, but the Words curdle at the back of his throat.

Gather there no matter how much he swallows and it would be so easy, so very easy to just reach across and snap that proud, stiff neck --


Clark whirls, wings slamming against Lex's chest and face, sending him flying back through the air several feet. Luckily, the wall catches him.


And Clark is hovering over him in a blink, looking horrified and desperate and so impossibly innocent.

Lex has managed to keep a firm grip on the bottle, a fact that pleases him all the more when one of those big, strong, farmboy hands falls directly on his scalp.

His naked scalp.

The hat is a crumpled fabric heap beside him. Apparently, he'd hit head first.

Maybe there'd be little horn-pocks in the paneling.

This close... this close, the only thing Lex wants to do is cry.

Which is even funnier than everything else, so why can't he laugh now?

The brush of Clark's thumb over his horn is pure, electric in a way mankind could never harness. Lex bites back a hiss, and Clark's voice is shaky when it comes.

"I guess... I guess I know why you didn't freak out when I showed up, hunh?"

"Do you, Clark?"

"Well, yeah." Another thumb-brush and Clark's the one who shakes.

Lex blinks. Does his best to stay still. "Are you cold? I'm guessing you don't have any flannel that comes with handy wing-holes."

"And you have silk that does?" Almost growled, and Clark moves away. Scrubs a hand through his hair.

It's cold without him. Bright without the wings blocking out... everything. Je --fuck. Fuck.

He can't even curse the way he wants to.

Strange things happen when he does.

Shakes it off and stands, wincing a little at the oddly... fragile feel of his shoulder. Thinks maybe it might have popped itself out of the socket and back in again sometime between Lex hitting the wall and Lex hitting the floor. "No, I don't. But I have blankets."

Clark is hugging himself again, wings brought in tight against his back. It looks as uncomfortable as it probably feels. Clark is rocking back and forth, and Lex notices for the first time that his feet are bare.

Well-made, mostly clean, and bare.

"Clark, where are your shoes?"

"I'd only been wearing slippers. They. They fell off. Over a field. My shirts are there, too. What's left of them."

Lex raises an eyebrow, but Clark doesn't say anything else. His snifter is half-ground into the carpeting where he was sitting, Clark's is intact on the couch.

Upright and gleaming.

The persistence of metaphor.

Lex refuses to let it get to him. Well, get to him more. Grabs another snifter and fills it halfway in defiance of custom, tradition, propriety, good sense and everything possible he can think to defy. Does the same with Clark's, and revels briefly in the fumes.

Somebody light a match.

Wonders when his own eyes will start to burn.

If it will hurt.

If he'll care.

Shakes it off and brings Clark his drink, waiting patiently for him to unfold himself enough to take it. Gets a rueful smile and wants, very badly to kiss it.

What would happen if they fucked?

Who would be punished the most?

Clark is sniffing dubiously at the brandy, and if Lex could ignore... just about everything, really, he could pretend this was just another one of his fantasies. Innocent schoolboy in his bedroom, drinking just enough past too much to render him pliable and sweet.


And Clark is just raising the glass to his lips when Lex says, "What shall we toast to Clark? I'm partial to 'the strict maintenance of the status quo,' but you are the guest."

"How about, 'to the end of meteor rocks?'" Clark is glaring at the wings.

And that's... odd, but Lex shrugs. They clink glasses and Lex takes a healthy swallow. Wanting the burn, since the intoxication won't come anymore.

Looks up at Clark's cough, and it's good to be able to tell himself that any tears there are strictly from the alcohol.

A week ago he would've been berating himself for allowing too much emotion.

Right about now... right now, Lex thinks he might be grateful to anything that can scrape him raw. Even mawkish hopes over a young angel's tears.

He's going to start laughing again any minute now. Takes another unlovely gulp to forestall it.

Eyes the couch again and wonders how long Clark's been standing. Flying. God... dammit.

That one still worked. Some sort of cancellation effect, probably.

He's not going to laugh. "Have you been able to sleep, Clark?"

"I... no. I mean, it only happened yesterday, you know? And..."

"I imagine you've been busy."

"My parents... They don't know what to do. And there was this weird kind of..."


Clark looks up, makes a very obvious effort to make his face unreadable. "Lex..."

And he really does have to laugh. No way to hold it in this time. "You've been keeping secrets for a really, really long time, Clark. I waited, I bided my time. I figured you had your reasons. But you've already poked yourself with my fucking horns and you're standing in my bedroom knocking things over with your wings --"

"I'm sorry. I... I can try to replace... I mean, are you okay?"

"Jesus Christ, Clark!" And the world goes blisteringly silent for a moment in that way where you can almost see every animal, every person pause mid-breath to wait for...


Clark's eyes aren't blue any longer, but a gold so pure that Lex's eyes ache to look at them. Or, he thinks as he feels the horns on his head grow another inch, they could ache for another reason. Fuck. "I didn't mean it! I take it back!"

And Clark's head is thrown all the way back now, tendons tight and shivering in his throat. Fists clenched.

Wings unfurled.

Glorious, even down to the simple blue jeans, fraying at the hem.

Very obviously struggling against his own programming.

"You know, son, you've got just about enough strength now that one good punch right there..." And a circle of flame appears just in front of the center of Clark's torso. "...would solve any number of problems."

"And whose problems would those be, Father?" Lex won't look at him. Defiance. And really, Lucifer should be proud...

"Where's your lovely hat, little lamb?" Hot hand on his horns, a flood of power he knows could easily be his own.

So very different from the way Clark had touched him.

From the way it felt.

Lex shudders, but doesn't move away.

"He doesn't even know what he is. Can you imagine that?"

Surprises him enough that Lex forgets not to look, turning away from the wordless struggle in front of him. Wordless and... slow.

Time is changing between himself and his Father, the world around them slowing in a way he thinks he might be able to feel if he concentrates just the right way.

And here he'd always thought it'd just been a matter of adolescent boredom.

"He has no idea what he's capable of, Beast."


"But then, I'm beginning to think you don't, either."

Grits his teeth against it. Breathes. Strange how it's easier not to let his father get to him now that he knows for sure that the man is Lucifer. Takes the pressure off.

"Kill him, Lex."

"Why don't you? Or, rather, why *can't* you, since you want him dead?"

"He believes this all has something to do with the meteor strike, you know. How you can harbor so much affection for someone so unbelievably *short-sighted* is beyond me."

Lex smirks. "It's because I haven't said the Words." Swallows reflexively, but it's not enough on its own to hold it back and suddenly he's struggling, too.

The target of flame isn't actually touching Clark, but it could be, oh, so easily.

Just a gentle... push.

Clark, the fool, the lying little idiot and Lex had never been good enough for Clark to even try to lie to him with something like skill, like the delicacy it deserved, he deserved.

Not truly flesh anymore, if he ever was, but then...

Neither is Lex.

Clark's head snaps down and he's still spread out, hovering half a foot off the floor, wings beating with inexorable power. Lex could have wings. Black and leathern, stark against his skin.

Gold eyes fixed on Lex's own.

"Now! Strike now!"

Clark whips his head around and very obviously sees Lucifer, the way Lex had that day in the driveway. The way he hasn't been able to stop seeing him.

And his eyes fade to blue.

And Lex can breathe again. Wants to breathe again.

"Wh-what? Are... are you my. Brother?" Reaches for Lucifer with a confused sort of wonder on his face.

Lucifer steps back, hissing a little between his teeth, which makes Clark's face crumple for a heart-stopping (starting?) moment before he gets control again and takes another step forward.

"You are, aren't you? I... I don't understand any of this, but... I can feel you."

And oh, this really is priceless. "Clark, I don't think you've met my father...."

"Your... father?"

"Oh, yes. And your... brother. And perhaps mine, as well, but I'm not entirely sure how the theology of that would work out."

Clark keeps looking back and forth between them. "Wha... he is?"

"You are no brother of mine, boy." And his father leaves, just like that. A trick Lex has yet to figure out for himself. Something about the weight of shadows, the way they bend.

Physics of the supernatural.

He still hates physics with a passion.


Clark is almost searching him with his eyes. More questions there than Lex really wants to think about. "Let's have another drink."

And Clark starts to reach for him and stops, frowning. "It won't work, will it?"

"If by work you mean 'get us shitfaced and make the weirdness go away,' then no. However, if you mean 'give us something to do with our mouths other than talk,' then yes. It's very good for that, I've found."

"I didn't come here to not-talk, Lex."

"Why did you come here?" And really, that is the question.

"My parents..."

Lex gives him time. Fills their glasses, drinks off half of his in a swallow.

Drinks the other half.

Watches Clark... tremble. On the edge of something, but his eyes haven't gone gold and Lex... doesn't want to fight.

Realization that he doesn't have to be alone pure and powerful, straight to the vein.

Realization that Clark's available circle of loved ones has narrowed precipitously less pure, but just as sweet.

He is, after all, still in the circle.

Or he can be, if he plays this right.

"Let's try the couch again?"

Clark looks horrified for a moment, then tries to play it off with another rueful smile. "I really don't want to send you flying across the room again, Lex."

"You know how to be careful, Clark." And so do I. "Trust me?"

And this time Clark reaches far enough to actually touch him.

Slowly enough that Lex can brace himself for the rush of contact, a bright flood of color and barely comprehensible need that has him hard in an instant, and when he can see again, Clark is just staring.

Lips parted and eyes wide, flaring and fading between gold and blue, and yes, hard, too.

"It's... I thought I was ready, but it's different with. Skin."

Looks down to find their hands clenched, fingers twined together. Hard enough to hurt and Lex doesn't want to let go. "Yes." Can't bring himself to get angry about his complete lack of facility with the English language.

"I trust you, Lex."

Closes his eyes for a moment. "The horns help?"

Clark squeezes his hand. Glares a little. Bright. "I came here before I knew anything had changed about you other than that you'd started wearing hats." Smiles again. "But yeah, they do."

"It's okay to be happy about not being the only freak in the carnival, Clark. I promise."

"But it feels like... damn. That German word. Misery loves company."

"Schadenfreude?" Lex snorts a little. "You have to love the Germans. They have a word for everything."

"Yeah, that's the one. You're not a freak, Lex."

Lex grins. "Fine, then you aren't either."

"But --"

"Clark. Horns."

"You don't know the whole story, Lex."

And when Clark lets go Lex has to fight the urge to grab him again. Losing the contact, even without the initial surge, is a lot like bleeding out very quickly and very quietly. Takes a shuddering breath. "No?" Are you going to tell me?

Clark shakes his head. "No. I. Maybe we should try the couch."

"All right." Slaps on a smirk. "Assume the position."

Clark snorts. "Funny, Lex."

And the wings are exactly as soft and powerful as they look. Heavier than he would've guessed, though, and with a faint slick of oil that Lex is tasting before he realizes what he's doing.

Something between olive oil and... he has no idea.

Tastes again, and again, leans over the back of the couch and buries his face against one wing and --


Jerks back to consciousness with a gasp, face pressed into soft-stiff feathers and hard, so hard.

Clark is still as stone.

Fuck. "G-- J-- Fuck. Clark, I'm sorry, I didn't --"

"You don't. Have to apologize." And Clark turns his head, clearly trying to focus on Lex's face. Frustrated shudder of wings and Lex wants to touch them again, but, "... could you back up a little?"

The dangers of letting yourself feel. No control. None. Backs off several steps. "Of course, Clark. I'm so sorry --"

"No, it's okay. I mean, better than okay, and --" Growls out something that might even be a curse and the wings jerk outward, spread and flutter. "Lex, what am I going to do with these things?"

He's beginning to be a little less pissed about the horns thing.

A little.

"Okay. Okay, I think if you just... do you push them out away from your body before you spread them?"

Clark nods.

"Okay, do that... yeah. Now fold them again, but don't pull them back against you." Lex checks the distance between the fall of wings and Clark's back. It's just about enough. "Try sitting down now. Slowly."

Clark does, wings folding against the floor as he sinks and it just makes Lex wince.

"Is that... doesn't that hurt?"

"What?" Clark turns his head, trying and failing to see around the rising flare of his wing. "You can... I mean, could you come around this way? And it just feels... weird."

"Your wings are folding, Clark."

"Oh. That's really. Ew."

"Well... it helps that they're flexible, right? That's probably not even bone in there..."

"Lex, you know, if you're going to start sounding like you want to dissect me, I'd really appreciate it if we were face to face."

Has to chuckle a little. "Well, I am, technically, a scientist, Clark." Lex gives the right wing one last stroke, as gently and non-possessively as he can manage. Walks around to the front of the couch and Clark looks... lovely.

Tired, grateful, frightened.


Everything written across his features in a language anyone could understand but is, perhaps, meant only for Lex.

And Clark looks up a little further, and for a moment everything washes away but puzzlement. "Lex, your horns... grew?"

H -- heck. Lex snorts. "Yeah, that happened when... Clark. What happened? When you got your wings?"

Twisted smirk. "A bell rang?"

Crouches in front of Clark and raises an eyebrow. There's a sense of something cracking on his scalp. Dried blood, perhaps. "I can't say I would be surprised..."

"C'mon, Lex, I'm not... I'm not an angel. This is just some brand new weirdness out of whole life of weird. A whole town of weird." But Clark is looking... desperate.

"You recognized my father."

"I... I just thought..."

"You thought he was your brother --"

"I don't know what that was about! I mean, they say kids who were adopted... and I was adopted, you knew that right? I mean, I told you --" And Clark's fingers are white-knuckled on his own knees, the denim shredding under the pressure.

Lex doesn't have to be cruel. "Clark. Ask me how I got the horns."

And for a moment Clark looks like he's going to cry again. Stops clutching at himself long enough to brush dried blood from Lex's forehead. Enough contact for the jolt to send Lex fully to his knees. Not nearly enough. "Lie."

"... what?"

"Lie to me, Lex. You've always said... you've always said that's what Luthors do. What your father does."

Lex squeezes his eyes shut. "You have no idea how important it has become to me to be something utterly different than my father, Clark. Or... I think you have every idea." Opens his eyes again and Clark is just... pleading with him. "Clark --"

"I'm not... this isn't even my G --"

Lex claps a hand over Clark's mouth as fast as he can, the rush more than he can stand. Like being burned alive. Like drowning. Like getting his fingers thoroughly licked and sucked by an angel. "Oh, Clark..."

Clark's eyes are half-closed, dazed, but neither of them are as far gone as they could be. Lex knows this.

"I won't lie."

Clark bites his fingers. Not hard, but the gesture is enough. Pushes Lex's hand away and covers his face with his own hands for a moment. "I don't want to know this."

"We can't pretend this is anything other than... what it is. Clark, it's too late for that."

Clark is glaring at the wall, silent. The wings shiver and twitch, seemingly independent at times. Another metaphor, of a sort.

Lex is thinking about what a good, solid chainsaw could do for both Clark and himself when the boy finally speaks again,

"I'm not even from this planet, Lex."

"You came down from... up there?"

"No! I came down in a space ship. It's in our..." Clark pauses, gives Lex another searching look.

Lex doesn't really have any idea what's showing on his face, but whatever it is seems to satisfy Clark.

"Why wouldn't you let me say -- I won't say it -- but... why?"

Lex scrubs a hand over his head. Or, tries to. It's a good thing he heals quickly -- the horns are goddamned sharp. Looks at his palm ruefully and absently licks the blood away.

Clark hisses above him and Lex blinks.

Yes. All that sex they're not having.


Shakes it off. "Because, for some reason, certain words and phrases make things happen. To us. To the world around us."

"Like when you said... um. Jiminy Christmas? Oh, man, this is unbelievably stupid."

Lex snickers. "Jiminy... okay, yeah, fine. That's good enough. We can even practice. Darn. Heck. That really good place somewhere up there."

Clark grins at him. "Mama... doer."

"No, no, motherfucker is still available."

Clark snorts. "Oh, *that's* a relief."

"Oh, it has been..." Lex lets his head fall -- carefully -- against Clark's knee. "Yes. When I said... that, it triggered you. Do you remember what happened?" Carefully doesn't look up. He can feel the heat of Clark's palm just above his scalp.

"I... yeah. I remember wanting to do. Terrible things."

"To me." Doesn't bother to phrase it as a question.

"G -- Lex. What kind of... I mean, how could that be good ? How could I be... an angel?"

"See, this is where the separation of church and state in America has proven... unfortunate. Angels aren't good or evil. Soulless creatures of intellect and hunger and... devotion."

Clark's leg stiffens beneath Lex's head. "I have a soul."

"You weren't born an angel."

"Lex... fuck."

"You know, I never thought I'd ever hear you curse so convincingly, but I have to admit you have cause."

"That Guy jokes in mysterious ways. I mean... it would be one... heck of a coincidence if the people on my home planet had some whole Judeo-Christian framework, wouldn't it?"

"That Guy seems to be in control of the universe. Maybe... hunh."

Another flash of hovering warmth. "What?"

Lex looks up. "You're an alien?"

Clark blushes and the wings curl in. Which shouldn't work, except that the wings are doing a very good job of demolishing the couch.

"Um... Clark? The couch?"

"Wha... oh... oh shit! J -- G -- FUCK!"

Lex just lets himself lose it, throws his head back and howls.

"Yeah, laugh it up, horn-boy. I bet your pillowcases are shredded ."

Can't stop laughing. "Tiny little scraps of linen and feathers... all over the bed..." Actual tears in his eyes now, and Clark is grinning again.

"You're a lunatic."

"Yeah, but at least I'm an earth-born lunatic, E.T."


"Angel! And that's Anti-Christ to you, by the way."

Stops Clark for a second. "Really?"

Lex snickers. "Yep. Bother you? I really hope not..."

"I really wish I was drunk."

"I haven't figured out a way around that yet. But when I do... you'll be the first to know." Lex rests his hand on Clark's knee, small, vicious jolts of feeling hitting him whenever he touches one of the torn spots. "Clark. They want to start End Times."

"Armageddon, not just a bad movie anymore?"

"Basically. So, my... Dad summoned me down into Heck a few days ago, all gung-ho for battle. All I had to do was say a few words -- don't ask -- and Gog and Magog would ride -- or maybe ride again, this is none too clear -- fire would rain down, I spew some blasphemous frogs, etc., etc. You know, I was much happier about life when I thought John had just eaten a few too many magic mushrooms on Patmos."

"And you refused."

Doesn't want to look into Clark's eyes, but can't quite bring himself to stop touching him. "You seem surprised."

"Well, you know. Anti-Christ." Half-joking note in his voice. Halfserious.

And Lex wants to be angry, thinks maybe he has a right to it, for something, at least, but... it's not safe. Not with Clark this close. The benefits of a certain degree of demonic dissociation, perhaps? Worth a thought.


"I'm still Lex, Clark. Just Lex. Just like you're still Clark."

"I... I never wanted to kill you before."

"Neither did I, but... all right. You have a point." Looks up into Clark's eyes. It would be so much easier if they could just... something. "We haven't killed each other yet, Clark."


"We don't have to do what they want. No matter... no matter how much they push."

And Clark is touching him, just a brush under his chin, and then tilting his head up. So much better to be facing each other for this, looking into each other's eyes and so helplessly open to everything.

Battery of Words and power and the impossible seduction of destiny. Destiny feels like nothing more nor less than the pull of raw power on his insides, a rush of Truth.


Truth is relative.

Lex grins, and the next thing he knows he's being pulled into a long, thorough kiss. Clark's cupping the back of his head with one hand and tugging at his shirt with the other. He'd had to switch to button downs after shredding one too many pullovers on the horns, and that's precisely the kind of useless tripe that his brain is offering him instead of rational thought.

Clark's mouth soft against his own, larger than most he's kissed and perhaps hungrier, too. Wet heat when Lex slips his tongue inside and there's nothing more important than touching him. Not life, not death, not the numinous promises of the Father -- heh -- of Lies.

Palms against Clark's chest like the conscious acceptance of fire. No, the boy's not cold at all, arching into Lex's touch and breaking the kiss only to bend Lex's head.

"Have to --"

Lips around one horn and Lex has to fight hard to keep from jerking, doesn't want to cut Clark. Not now, not like this (blood of an angel) and the memories are there, his and not his, some Beast who earned its name, raised to be something other than the queer little rich boy.

Raised in a harder time on the blood of the righteous, if not the innocent.

But Clark is innocent, even if Lex is not.

And Clark is making him feel.

So dangerous and so addictive, the pure version of all that flirting with death and disaster he'd done when he was Clark's age. Maybe this is what he'd wanted all along...

Not as sensitive on his horns as Clark clearly wants him to be, but when that tongue slips out to trace the skin around one Lex has to shudder. The abused skin. Still healing from his most recent... growth spurt.

And Clark must be tasting his blood. Does he like it?

Does he want it with more than just the programming?

Lex squeezes Clark's thighs, spreads them wider.

Pulls back as slow as he can to keep from stabbing the boy and then buries his face against the tented crotch of Clark's jeans.


Clark arching up against his face, pressing his head down with one hand and mindlessly trying to reach between them to get to his fly with the other.

Scent of him so sharply human Lex has to bite down. Carefully, but firmly just the same, and Clark can't seem to stop saying his name or fondling his horns like some particularly long, hard, and dangerous nipples.

Laughs a little for the sheer joy of it and pulls back just enough to work on Clark's fly. It takes longer with the boy trying to help, and Lex finally just rips them open. Growls a little as Clark lifts his hips to make it easier and tugs boxers and jeans down together.

Clark, naked on his slightly-worse-for-wear couch is even more perfect than before. Reclined but not at all relaxed, a sculpture by some desperately repressed artist.

And being on his knees is, perhaps, the only way to meet this.

Lex licks his way up one long, shuddering thigh, mouths where the skin seems thinnest. Hottest with the blood just beneath the surface, and it's all just a tease, but Lex knows that once they truly begin they won't slow down for a while.

Wants this to last.

Wants the taste of his beautiful farmboy to memorize and hold on to. The clutch of shaking fingers on his head.

"Don't cut yourself --"

"Too late, please, don't stop --"

Bites Clark high on his inner thigh, sucks hard enough to bruise and then can't stop himself from pulling back, struggling against Clark's hold and searching.


Blood in the air and sex and sweat and Clark's hand on his own cock, jerking himself off.

Head thrown back and --


Clark's bloody hand.

Lex growls helplessly, Words urging themselves up into his mouth. Surge after surge and if only he didn't know exactly how sweet they would taste on their way between his teeth, hissed and spat on his beautiful angel's skin.


Not today. Not ever. This is too... too much to give up. Lex understands that much.

Grabs both of Clark's wrists and holds them away, pressing them against the couch. Gold eyes burning into his own, and yes, holy, righteous rage and lust.

Clark could kill him at this point, but he'd still need to fuck him.

Any hole he made.

And Lex wants to hold this moment, conscious of his own control as a function of need, strength, and memory. Conscious of it as he would be of a muscle, functional but still too weak.

It needs to be exercised.

But Clark... how close is Clark to the edge?

Does he dare open his mouth to ask?

What's showing in his own eyes?

Too much to risk, too soon, and the blood on Clark's dick is as vibrant as everything else. Rich with color in some pure, pre-Raphaelite fashion. Irresistible as everything else, too, and Lex goes down. Gives himself just enough time to lick Clark roughly clean, his own cock spitting pre-come at the taste, yes, just as good as he'd dreamed thought remembered needed --

Forces himself not to bite down, but lets his teeth scrape liberally. Clark bucks and grunts and fucks his way deeper and deeper until Lex swallows the head.

And then there's nothing to do but ride it out. Wonders whether it's the angel or the boy that's using his mouth with such breathtaking ruthlessness.


Wonders if it matters.

If they could, maybe, merge themselves. Become the angel, the demon, as much as possible without losing touch with everything they cared about.

Have the powers without being forced to use them on each other , and Lex has to grin a little.

Nothing like impending doom to make a man romantic.

He can live with that. Fuck you, Dad.

Clark's arms flexing under his wrists and Lex becomes aware that they're struggling. Against each other.

Words flaring again but this is what Lex, at least, is struggling for. He won't give this up. Not this fuck, not this world, not this chance. With Clark.

And if Clark killed him... what?

It was up to him to start the Apocalypse, wasn't it? If he was dead, it couldn't begin. Clark as angelic assassin? Lex doesn't feel comfortable enough with his memories and knowledge of the man upstairs -- man, that is getting old -- to play strategy games.

Leave that to his father.

And yet... can Clark kill him before he speaks the Words?

Lex releases Clark, narrowing his eyes against the creeping itch between his shoulderblades. Old and hopefully inaccurate danger warning.


Not fair that even hoarse sex cries should sound that beautiful. When Clark's hands settle on him, they're not gentle, but they're not filled with homicidal intent, either.

That, at least, is something.

More than that to feel Clark forcing his mouth wider, pushing a finger in alongside his cock until Lex can't help but drool, can't help but look up and watch.

Blue flaring to gold fading to blue. Wax and wane and, yes, please yes, he'll take the hunger.

Wants the devotion.

Wants to give his own.

Hand cupping the back of his skull again and the creak of the couch suffering under the force of Clark's wings and --

"Yes --"

Sweet-salt as any other teenaged boy, but, like everything else about him, still more real than anything else.

Pulls off and rests his head -- carefully -- on Clark's thigh.

Lets himself be petted.

"I don't mind if you cut me, Lex."

Blinks. Looks up into Clark's face, which is suddenly very young again. "Clark, that's... "

"With your horns, I mean."

"... dangerous."

"I know."

"And incredibly hot."

"I know that, too." And Lex can almost hear Clark grinning down at him.

"G -- ARGH. How'd you get so fucking kinky so fast?"

"I. Well. I've decided to blame you."

Lex snickers. "You know, this whole temptation gig I had going was a lot more fun when I didn't know that it ran in the family, as it were."

"Your Dad is the devil. Wow, Lex. I mean... my Dad will be... so not surprised."

"Mmph. I feel an amazing lack of surprise, myself."

Just quiet for a while, arousal something banked, dimmed a little in the rush and haze of Clark's orgasm. Easy to be here, to be close like this. Some impossible gift to be able to laugh about all this with more than just his usual cynicism. With someone who understands the humor and is more than willing to go with it.

The other freak in the tent, sure, but. Lex wants more.

Something desired that he hadn't even considered, at least, not consciously. Lex moves close enough to kiss Clark's belly, lick at the fold of skin and muscle. Sweat. Oil. Something about warmth, birds.

Some old biology class, the memories of which have been shunted aside for those of the Beast.

How many mind-pictures of pillage and rapine did he need, exactly? How many ways to remove an angel's wings did his Father feel were necessary?

And, really, the lake of fire...

Lex shudders himself out of the memory, Clark petting him again. Casually incautious of his horns, but still very obviously looking to comfort him.

"Lex, could you... uh. This is going to sound pretty stupid."

Grins against the sleek skin of Clark's inner thigh. "Try me."

"I've been trying to figure out how I could hold you without the wings getting in the way..."

Makes something warm burst open inside him and Lex wants to shout it at his father. Proof. Proof. Fuck determinism. Lex lets his smile be as real as he can manage. "Yeah?"

"Either we stand up, or I lay on top of you... only that's not really holding, or you. Sitonmylap." Just like that, all one word.

Lex snorts. "Why, Clark. If you wanted me on your knee you only had to ask..."

"Oh, fuck you. Do you have any better ideas?"

Lex laughs. "No, but can I just kneel here until you curse at me some more? Because the amusement value of that really can't be underestimated."

And Clark reaches down, wings causing the couch to creak ominously, and lifts Lex onto his lap.

Makes him gasp and Clark is holding him, arms tucked under his own and hands roaming over Lex's back. So warm. So good. Strangely effortless to ignore his own erection just for more of this. Connection without urgency, and the look in Clark's eyes...

None of the fantasies had included anything like it... or maybe Lex just hadn't let them.

So incredibly warm and strong and there's nothing to fear from Clark. Not now.

Control gained for the moment and Lex bends in to take the kiss he's been waiting for. The brain-melting connection of it, Clark sucking his tongue and yes, please, shredding his shirt like tissue paper.

Hands on his skin and mouth to mouth and air is superfluous.

Nothing matters but this space between them, this improbable and improbably necessary sin.

Lex buries one hand in Clark's hair, sleeks the other along the arch of a wing. Gasps when Clark claws at him a little and Lex bares his throat.

Surrender something necessary for this moment, forcing everything natural and supernatural within him to submit to a sweeter, if not higher, power.

Clark mouths his throat with almost single-minded focus, fumbling at Lex's belt half-heartedly before just clutching him closer.

Lifting him and tearing away the scraps of Lex's shirt and latching on to a nipple.

One mindlessly intense lick and Clark bites him, hard.

Lex clenches his fist in his hair and cries out something he doesn't know the language for, guttural and vicious and utterly needful. Clark is ruthless with this, with him, and still so controlled.

Reveling in some freedom Lex can't quite guess at, or maybe just knowing what Lex needs. What he wants.

Hunger, yes.

Devotion, please.

"Clark, I've wanted this --"

Clark moans against his chest, incomprehensible and heartfelt, and bites him harder. Starts to just kiss him there, over and over again. Fevered and wordless and Lex tries to hold him tighter against himself, but Clark pulls back. Takes a deep, shuddering breath.

His lips are wet, bruised-looking.


"I've wanted this, too, Lex, I didn't know how... and it was. Fuck , it was so confusing, but now it feels like the only way... does that make sense?" Pleading with him again and the only thing Lex can do is kiss him.

Clark's hand on his head, clutching him in, making the kiss deeper and Lex is rocking against him now, has to squeeze a hand between them to get his belt off, his pants open, but they're too close for that.

Heat between them so precisely on the line between cursed and blessed that it doesn't matter at all.

And when Clark grabs Lex's horns, hard enough that his blood starts trickling down Lex's face in small, burning rivers, it's just another part of this .

Breaks the kiss and moves to grab Clark's hands, but the boy is there ahead of him, painting Lex's face with his own blood, smearing it across his lips, face screwed into some desperately beautiful glyph of concentration and lust.

Marking Lex his own.

Offering himself for Lex.

So pure.

The only possible word for something so... mutual.

Opens his mouth for Clark's fingers and sucks at the rapidly healing wounds. Blood of an angel.


*Clark's* blood. Some vastly important difference, vast enough to keep his teeth from sharpening on their own.

Wants to give Clark a knife, and really, shouldn't they have been issued weapons from their... generals?

Even in the old days it was more than tooth and claw...

Doesn't matter.

Runs his wrist over his own horn and blinks the blood out of his eyes. It doesn't even sting, and Clark is licking him, kissing him. Sharing blood this way and no words are necessary.

No words could encompass this, anyway.

Wrist pressed to Clark's mouth and oh, yes, he could be consumed this way.

It would be worth it.

Scrape of Clark's blunt teeth going straight to his cock and Lex is dangerously close to coming in his pants, Words and powers a confused roil low in his belly. Aggression and sex and... maybe that's the answer?

An answer, at least, to make sure he's always far too invested in getting fucked to want to actually kill the supernatural creature he wants to be fucked by.

Laughs a little hysterically and pulls his wrist away from Clark's mouth long enough to kiss him again then forces himself just far enough away to get his pants open.

Clark's hands there immediately, awkwardly shaping themselves to his cock and balls. Awkwardness lasting only just long enough for Clark to figure out the new angle and then Lex just has to hold on.

Grabs Clark's shoulders, but that doesn't give either of them enough leverage to really move. Finally just arches back and holds on to Clark's knees, and bucks up into Clark's fist.

So good to be like this, spread out and taken and Clark's making these hungry little noises with each stroke. Like this is exactly what he wants to be doing and Lex has to see.

Manages to open his eyes and look and --

"Lex, yes, please, tell me this is good --"

"Oh... oh that's so hot."

Presses close for another kiss, but Clark pushes him back. Sucks the come off his fingers and licks and bites at himself and oh, yeah, Clark's hard again. Wonderful. Beautiful.

"I want you to fuck me..."

Clark whines around the fingers in his mouth and it's the sexiest thing Lex has ever seen. Thinks maybe he won't be able to wait for this and...

The couch collapses.

Into several pieces.

They land in a sprawl on what used to be the left corner of the thing, legs tangled together. Lex has feathers in his mouth and his hand hurts . Clark, presumably, has bitten down.


Laughs aloud and chokes on a feather and just laughs harder.

Tries and eventually manages to get detangled enough to stand up and Clark is a bloody-mouthed wreck on the floor.

Naked and hard, wings twisted wincingly, and shaking with mostly silent laughter.

Little chuffs of breath betraying him.

Lex puts out his unbitten hand and Clark is clutching his belly and crying with it.

"Laugh all you want, wing-boy. You don't see me destroying your furniture."

"Oh... oh man, I can just see you, butting into the ottoman like a little goat..."

And really, the hand gestures weren't necessary. "*Lamb's* horns. They're *lamb's* horns."

Clark gradually gets control of himself, sitting up and yes, wincing as he unbends his wings. Though he could be wincing at the damage.

Lex didn't know that couches could be broken into that many pieces.

And then Clark is in front of him, arms wrapped around his waist. Cock pressed to his belly. Wings curving around him. Warm. "Hey, Lex?"

"Mm. Yeah?"

Clark grins at him. "Baaaaa."

"You're awfully confident for a man well within butting range."

Clark just holds him a little tighter, wings starting to block the light. Looking at Lex and gradually getting serious again.

"What is it, Clark?"

"I... I meant what I said. About you hurting me." Clark ducks his head for a moment before looking up again. "I know it sounds kinky and... okay, it probably is kinky, but. Um. The alien thing. I never... felt pain. Before. Okay, the meteor rocks hurt pretty bad, but it wasn't like. This. The intensity is so different and it's just really hot when it's you making me feel and you can start talking anytime now. Really. Annnnytime."

Lex shakes it off. "Never?"

"Not even when you hit me with your car."

"I... wow. You lied."

Rueful smile. "I kinda had to."

"Well, obviously... That Guy felt you needed to or you probably wouldn't have gotten the wings, but... wow. I was willing to go with the whole idea that I didn't hit you with my car, you know? Because, well, sixty miles per hour... what else can you do?"

"A lot. Um. X-Ray vision, really fast running. Sometimes I can hear things that are really far away. So far, that's it. And, well, flying now."

Lex strokes the inner curve of a wing. "X-Ray vision? Like... how far inside?"

"Way too far, sometimes. I'm better at controlling it now. I don't really want to see people's internal organs, you know?"

Lex snorts. "But the girls' locker room...?"

"Is a fine, beautiful place."

"Mmm... I remember my first time in a girls' locker room..."

"Wait, you've been in a girl's locker room? Your first time?"

So easy to get into the rhythms of this... tease. "I was young, impressionable..."

"Oh, man, I don't know whether to be jealous or... jealous."

Too easy? Why tease? "I vote for so jealous you have to make me forget I ever saw..." Has to force himself to grin. "What I saw."

Clark's hands on his ass now, pulling Lex closer, looking deep into his eyes. Professional quality seduction, really, and Lex is not even close to immune. Tilts his head back for a kiss that Clark... doesn't quite give.

Opens his eyes again and Clark's smile is faltering a little.

Lex does his best to refocus. "What is it?"

"You... went away for a second there."

And what does it say about his life that Lex's immediate thought was to wonder if he'd figured out that bending shadows thing? Shakes it off. "I... no. I was just thinking."

"About?" Clark's wide, earnest eyes.

First urge is to be flip, second to just take the kiss he's been waiting for, but... how trustworthy are his impulses these days, anyway? "I think... I don't think I've ever done this before." And he expects Clark to be confused, figures on having at least enough time to think of something reasonably intelligent to say, but,

"Yeah... I don't think we can be... casual. I don't know if I could've been casual anyway, really. Lex, do you have any idea how much I've been thinking about you?"

Lex blinks. "Clark..."

Clark kisses him, quick and soft. "We have time, don't we? To... figure things out?"

"I... yes. But also no. And maybe. Clark --"

Another kiss and Clark is smirking. "I'm not a complete girl, Lex. You don't need to declare your love or something before I put out."

A way out, and yeah, right now, it's exactly what Lex needs. "What, you've decided to be evil now?"

"Hey, I've got wings. I'm allowed."

"Hunh. Then I suppose I have to be good..."

"Nope, the horns pretty much dictate badness."

Bites Clark's jaw. "That really doesn't seem fair at all, Clark."

"Heh. Evil." Hands spreading Lex now, thumbs pressing into the cleft, stroking.


"So... did you do anything? In the locker room?"

Lex ducks his head, sucks a kiss onto Clark's throat. Definitely getting hard again. "Anything like what...?"

"Like what we're doing right now." Smile against his ear and Clark's thumb moving over and over his hole.

Lex thrusts his hips a little. Bites. "She was older. She liked how small I was..."

"Oh, Lex..."

Pulls back a little. "Sure you want to hear this?"

Clark nods, kisses him quick and hard. "Tell me. It's... your voice..."

Has to close his eyes. Move to the unmarked side of Clark's throat and nibble. "Okay. Okay..." Gasps when the tip of Clark's thumb dips in, just a little. "Clark. Um. Where was I? Yeah... do that again. Fuck. Okay. She was older, and I'd only ever really kissed before. Well... some groping. Everyday stuff. We were at camp, and she pulled me into the locker room. Made me take all my clothes off. Everything."

"Lex, that's so... fuck..."

Wings curled completely around him, now. More than enough reason to be this warm. Sweating, pressed close. Slick skin to slick skin. "She wanted to see. Do you want to know what she looked like?"

Clark slips his thumb out, gathers a little sweat. "Yeah." Thrusts it in a little harder and Lex groans.

"She was... typical WASP wealth. Long blonde hair, perfect tan. Small, firm breasts just a little too high on her chest. You knew she'd... grow up to be the perfect. Trophy wife."

"J -- more. Tell me more." Starts to fuck Lex with his thumb.

"Fuck, Clark. Have you done this to before? To yourself?"

"I... yes. Is it okay?"

"Yeah... yeah, don't stop." Mouths blindly at Clark's shoulder for long moments, pushing back onto that thumb. Wanting more. So hot. "She was taller than me. At least a couple of inches. I really didn't grow until... fuck it. Not important. She wouldn't let me touch her..."

"At all?"

Grins against Clark's throat. "At all. She was stronger than me, too. Stupid field hockey team."

Clark pulls back. Smirks. "Are you saying you got beat up by a girl?"

"Well, if by 'beat up,' you mean chained to the ceiling and caned, then yes." Smirks back at the look on Clark's face. "Many times. But not that day. Ashley just wanted to touch me. Get me hard without facing any consequences."

Clark licks his lips and it makes Lex narrow his eyes. Makes his cock twitch.

"You're so sexy, Clark..."

"Um. Ditto. I mean... so are you." Weirdly innocent smile for the situation. Like a nun in a whorehouse.

"We can move this to the bed...?"

"Can we stay like this for a little while? I won't be able to... hold you. Um. On the bed."

Lex nods, gives into the urge to squeeze Clark a little. Say it with his body, right? Large, warm angel-boy. Walking fantasy. Granted, a more specialized fantasy than he was before, but... "We can stay. And I can tell you more about my well-spent youth."

"... I was going to ask if that shouldn't be misspent, but... girl's locker room. Naked. And --"

"Hard. Soft little hands on my dick. On my balls. Her eyes were so wide. She wanted me to keep my eyes closed, but I peeked from under my lashes."

"Wow, Lex... had anyone ever... jerked you off before?"

"No. And she didn't, either. I don't think she really knew... ohhh. Harder, Clark. Use... use your index finger..."

"Fuck, okay... don't we need lube?"

Sucks another hickey onto Clark's throat. "Not for this, just... yeah. Fuck. In me. Yeah... I wanted her to do this. No idea how to ask."

"Oh... bite me again, Lex. Yes... what did she do?"

Licks at the raw spot and tries to remember something that doesn't involve this boy and every fantasy and reality they've had. Clark. "She... she sucked me. She didn't know how to jerk me off, but she did a damned good job with my dick in her mouth."

"Oh... oh wow. I want to do that..."

Lex thrusts hard against Clark and back, Clark's finger slipping in to the second knuckle and -- "Fuck fuck, Clark, yes, anything you want..."

"I've never --"

"I don't care. Just... your mouth..."

"You like my mouth?"

"I've wanted to fuck it since I met you."

Clark snickers. "You were dead when I met you."

"Fine. Since shortly after I met you."

"You were thinking about it with my Dad there?"

"It was better than thinking about having just been dead..."

"Wow. That's... wrong." Clark laughs against Lex's ear, quiet little chuckles. Calm for all the obvious hunger.

Something like normality in this space between them, and Lex is grateful for it. Odd, fleeting urge to call a press conference, whip off his hat in front of the world and just announce how close they all are to the End Times.

"They'd only laugh. Or kill you. Either way, I'm served. It would be... interesting to have you fully in my charge again, son."

Freezes in Clark's arms and has just enough control to keep from cursing. Clark hasn't opened his wings and he's not giving Lex enough leverage to turn around.

"Clark --"

Clark slips his finger out, but squeezes him a little. "Leave. You're not welcome here."

Lex can hear his father laugh, only slightly muffled by the wings. "I don't think I gave the Beast enough time to deed this land over to you, Angel. If it was his to begin with, which it is not."

"Listen to the nice angel, father. Your timing leaves a lot to be desired."

"Son, son! Your ingratitude wounds me. I'm only here to make sure this rather epic mistake of yours doesn't go farther than it already has."

Clark's hands on him abruptly possessive. Lex doesn't mind at all. "I already blew him, Dad. The skies failed to rain blood."

Clark... growls. "Don't come any closer."

"Or what, boy? You can't touch me until Lex says the Words. As I can't touch you."

Lex shudders. Always harder to resist in his father's presence. Always far more... quixotic.

And his father is laughing again. "He wants to say them, you know, Kal-El, Clark Kent, however you choose to be called. You're dangerously naive if you think he doesn't."

And if Lex concentrates, he can just about feel his father moving closer still. "Clark, don't trust --"

"Never trust the Beast, Angel. It is his particular power to lie... with spectacular results, actually. I'm quite proud of him."

Clark curls his wings around a little tighter. "I'm supposed to trust you?"

"Of course not! But then, at least you can be sure I have only your worst interests at heart, dear boy. With Lex... well, he seems terribly conflicted. Who can say when he'll lose this touching attachment to the status quo? Who can say what he'll do should you ever disappoint him?"

Lex yanks himself out of Clark's arms, pulls the wings open until he can face his father. "Get. Out."

And his father just reaches out, brushes a hot, dry, gentle hand over his cheek. Makes a show of licking the blood from his fingertips, or possibly enjoys it just that much.

Makes Lex shudder, and Clark brushes a wingtip against him.

"Son... there's one more thing you really should know --"

"I don't need to hear anything from you, Dad."

"Loving one of them? It's been done, boy, and done well. In the end... it never matters."

And Lex can feel his father leaving this time. Something like a sudden absence of pressure and something like a caress from an icy hand. Shudders and wants to cling and wants to just... rage.

Dangerous. So dangerous.

And Clark is stroking his back. Holding on.

"It's okay, Lex."

Comforting him. Fuck. Lex pulls back. Looks Clark in the face. "What happens when a representative from the other team shows up to remind you of your duty?"

"You tell him to fuck off? Or, you know, I will."

"Clark --"

"Lex, what if... what if I'm here for a reason?"

"You are here for a reason. Deterministic universe, remember?"

"I mean, some other reason. Than just goading you into starting the last battle, you know?"

"Well, actually, I think it's probably the second-to-last battle, but --"

"Whatever. Lex. What if I'm supposed to make sure you *don't* start it?"

"I..." Stops him for a moment, but, "you wanted to kill me."

"But it's not that hard to control. I mean, I've had to keep a lid on... pretty much everything for my whole life, just to make sure I didn't hurt anyone."

"Why make you an angel? Why make you have the feelings in the first place?"

"To make sure you had to listen to me? To make it more interesting? I don't know, Lex, maybe this is all a big game to them."

"Job..." And it would be so sweet to believe...

"Right, okay, I remember that much. Gramma Kent gave me a Bible for Christmas one year. The whole G -- that Guy and that Other Guy betting with Job's life. Maybe this is, you know. Just on kind of a galactic scale." Clark's still stroking him.

More soothing than it should be, considering... well, everything. Lex sees no reason not to step back into Clark's... embrace. "Okay... okay. Shoot a baby into space so that he crash lands on Earth just in time to wind up being taken in by the most wholesome, loving family ever to exist, not-so-coincidentally scarring the boy who is to become the Anti-Christ for life --"

"Sorry about that, by the way."

"No problem." Lex takes a breath. Tries to think. "Okay, so, instant conflict. Superpowered baby grows up to be just as wholesome and good as anyone could wish, picking up a taste for some righteous world-saving as he goes. Bald kid grows up to be bitter and filthy-minded, with a taste for rebellion that only gets greater when he gets shunted to the ass-end of nowhere --"


"Sorry, but c'mon, Clark. Smallville."

"Fine, go on."

"Then, just to make sure things aren't too easy, Superboy saves mean ol' Lex Luthor's life, giving him a new lease on life and one fuck of a hard-on."

Clark snickers. "And Superboy gets a healthy dose of sexual confusion."

"All the better. They become friends. The tragedy aspects are pretty much epic in scale by this point, the entire Host, good and not-so good, are mightily entertained."

"See? It's sick, and really pretty much sucks for us, but they get a good show out of it."

"So why keep pressing the point? And really, I'd think your side would want to push more. John was pretty convinced they had it sewn up."

"John was stoned, Lex. I remember reading Revelations. Or trying to. You just kinda kept expecting a verse like 'and yea, verily, was this prophet mightily squiffed.'"


Clark grins at him. "It's a technical term."

"So all this..." Lex gestures at them both.

"Is to entertain the powers. I don't know, I'm making this up as I go along, but... think about it -- what would either side get out of complete victory? Sure, they get the carnage, and the plagues, and the... frogs? Um... ew? Okay, so they get the big battle, but then it's just... over, you know? No more warring over souls, no more anything."

"A bunch of virgins up there."

"Everybody who ever had fun down there. And hey, your Dad can periodically show up when we're naked and make us angst. You know, whenever we get complacent and boring."

Lex smiles a little. "You may have a point, Clark." (It's been done...)

Clark grins so brightly that something painful and useless inside of him wants to just... break. Still... "What are we going to do about your wings? My horns?"

"Hey, you're the Beast. You've got powers. We'll figure something out."

Lex strokes Clark's face, shivering when he just turns into the touch. "Your faith is... disturbingly appropriate, actually."

Clark grins. "I try. But... um." And Clark's blushing again.


"Could you maybe keep the horns? For a little while longer?"

Has to smirk. "I could get used to this side of you, Clark..."

"I want you to."

So calm and so absolutely, perfectly serious... "Fuck, Clark. Bed."

"Yeah, okay..."

Hand in his own, sticky and hot. Lex squeezes, leads them to the bed. Lets go to crawl on the mattress and watches Clark fold his wings just enough to maneuver past the posts before letting them spread again. Kneeling angel, wings unfurled.

Magnificent and impossibly beautiful.

Edge of mind-rending obscenity when Clark starts stroking himself, eyes roving all over Lex's body. Lingering on the horns.

Can't quite keep himself from teasing. "John mentioned something about a beast with ten horns, you know..."

Clark shudders, pearl of pre-come dripping out and immediately being used to slick Clark's way.

"I knew it. You only wanted me for my secondary demonic characteristics..."

Clark laughs, jerks a little. "That would've been a lot more cutting if I *didn't* have your drool on my nice, clean wings."

"All right, fine, so we both have some religious issues to work out. I think your fucking me would be an excellent start."

Clark's wings flare wide for a moment. "Wow... I love it that you can just... say things like that, Lex... it turns me on so much." Clark crawls over on top of him, and even though they've spent the better part of the last hour naked and pressed close...

This is better. So much better.

Hands in Clark's hair and Lex coaxes the boy's tongue into his mouth, sucks hard. Urges Clark to thrust that way and spreads his legs.

Swallows Clark's moan and oh, yes.

Wants this.

A few years ago, there'd been a woman Lex thought he loved. Beautiful, brilliant, ruthless. She'd even gotten his father's approval, expressed in a backhanded comment at Lex's expense, of course, but one takes one's compliments where one can. But when it came time to go to Yale...

She really hadn't measured up against his visions of his own sparkling future. Stanford would've been... acceptable as a back-up choice, but it just wasn't Yale.

And that was that.

And granted, it's not especially difficult to choose Clark over Armageddon, but...

Clark bites his lip.

"I thought we were going to focus on your pain, Clark."

"You went away again. I can really live without that, Lex." Genuine anger there, and possibly just a glimmer of gold in Clark's eyes.

Possibly not. He doesn't really know what a naturally angry Clark is, does he? It's not hard to smile ruefully, and it could even be honest --


Lex wants to growl, fight, push Clark off and pace, but he's not going to allow himself that. Control without stressors is, after all, meaningless. How much of this is the demon and how much just his upbringing?

And if it is his upbringing, does it matter?

And Lex is abruptly aware of being adrift in all of this. Nothing to call on, no experience remotely trustworthy.

Only Clark, and Clark has his own... everything.

But he can be honest.

Lex blinks. Focuses. "I'm trying to figure out what I feel for you."

Wash of warm air as Clark flaps his wings once, again. His face is surprisingly unreadable for a long moment, after which it... isn't.

Fear and hope and desire and... And. Now would be exactly the worst time to point out how young Clark is. Or the best time. Lex has no idea which opinion to trust, so goes with the vague urge to just stroke Clark's face again.

Beautiful face, but he's seen prettier.

Hot sex, but he's had hotter.

Sweet boy, but... no. If there had to be a new angel, it would be Clark.

Unaffected and honest in the way only Victorian-era heroines could ever truly be, and very obviously falling in love with him. (Did He love you back, Father?)

Curses his mind for needing to ask the question, but the room remains free of brimstone and innuendo for the moment. Just the silence between them as they both forget to breathe and blink and all those other things not directly involved in giving each other incomprehensibly meaningful looks.

Way too much humor here, but that's human enough, isn't it?

Something else to hold on to, anyway, if not too hard.

Lex tries a grin. "Some things are pretty new to me, too, Clark."

Clark grins back, ruefully. "Then maybe... Maybe you should just trust me for this end of things? I meant what I said, Lex. I don't need a declaration."

"What do you need?" And swallowing against the hoarseness does exactly nothing.


And Clark kisses him, slow and deep, wings curving down in an arc above them. In their dim, warm place again, and Lex thinks he could maybe live here. For the warmth alone.

Soft, licking kisses all over his face and scalp. The blood, yes, but maybe also just his own skin. Clark lingers at the horns, but they've healed enough that it's not quite enough sensation for him.

"Clark --"

"Let me..."

Something between an order and a plea and far more than Lex can argue with. Slick tongue curling around his horns and the flake and scrape of drying blood. Hard not to tell Clark to be careful, even knowing that the risk of pain is exactly what he wants.

Lex tucks his chin forward and can almost feel Clark's low, rumbling, appreciative moan.

Reaches up to feel it, stroke that broad chest and yes, all right, reach around to stroke the wings. Pushes feathers back carefully until he can just brush the startlingly warm skin beneath.

Clark shivers and there's blood on Lex's scalp again, but the boy doesn't make a sound. Just keeps on sucking, tilting a wing further down so Lex can have better access.

Easier than he wants to consider very deeply to sort of will his thumbnail to grow, sharpen.

One quick slice and bits of bloody feather rain down and Clark is thrusting hard against him, cock to cock and a bruised, iron-tanged mouth pressed to his own. So soft for Lex's kisses, so wild and open.

They kiss with eyes wide, searching each other and needing and getting and Lex pushes Clark up on his knees. Follows quickly, biting and bleeding from who knows where. Slices a ragged circle around one of Clark's nipples with his thumb and follows with his tongue and teeth.

Clark cradles his head close and holds him there.

"More, Lex, oh... oh fuck --"

Licks at Clark's nipple, stalling a little. Wants the healing to start before he does anything else, because... he doesn't really want to be this brutal with Clark. Or not in this way, or... or something else confusing and hot and gorgeous when Clark's hold gets loose enough for Lex to actually see his face again.

Glaze-eyed and grinning like a kid on some spectacularly terrifying ride. Like Lex when he's making the Spyder purr.

Lex leans in to lick blood from the corner of Clark's mouth, wraps a hand around his own dick and rubs the head up and down Clark's shaft.

Catches himself with his own nail and his cock doesn't know whether to come or shrivel in his hand and Clark looks down.


Pushes Lex back down and goes down on him with a clumsy enthusiasm that would probably be endearing if it wasn't so fucking hot.

"Clark, fuck, your mouth..."

Blue eyes on his own now, watching for guidance or reaction and Lex braces himself up on one elbow and watches right back.

Strokes the hollow of Clark's cheek and slices in a thin line. Gathers the blood and sucks it off his fingers, eyes on Clark. Who moans around his cock and dips his head to take more.

Burning-wet-sweet and the sounds are just as hot, just as nasty as they always were. Hotter and nastier for it being *Clark's* mouth wrapped so tight around him. Sucking and licking and ah fuck teeth --

"Clark... oh shit, c'mon, I need you to fuck me now."

Clark pulls off with a wet pop. "I haven't --"

"Drawer. Lube. Fingers. In me." And Lex doesn't wait, just rips the drawer open -- and off its casters, dammit -- scrabbles until he finds the tube.

Slaps it in Clark's shaking palm and pulls his knees up to his chest.

"Oh fuck, Lex, I want to... want to kiss it. Can I?"

And Clark doesn't wait, just leans in and licks a wet stripe along Lex's cleft and the air is cool on his spit-slick cock and Lex thinks he's probably going to just die because --

"Is that... can I..."

"Clark, please --"

Tongue in him exactly like the universe laughing at him for ever considering himself jaded. Hands on his thighs and those wings fluttering above them, buffeting them both with air and if it keeps up, they'll probably wind up airborne.

Luthor Scion arrested for molesting local teen and violating airspace regulations.

Assuming they could catch them and no amount of snark is enough to resist this, even if he wanted to.

Wet and hot and Clark just fucking him, in and in and in , fingers leaving bruises on his thighs and Lex's cock is leaking steadily.

Making his belly wet with it.

Wants to taste it. Wants to taste everything. Wants to spend the next six years with his ass in the air, because really, who fucking knew ?

Sudden, stronger rush of air and Clark actually does lift off for a second, before alighting again on his knees.

Even more dazed-looking than before, hair wild, eyes wide and mouth so kissably swollen that Lex has to groan.

Manages to watch Clark struggle with the flip-cap for exactly three seconds before... something happens. In his mind. Like a breaking. Whatever. The top and bottom halves of the tube are no longer connected and Clark's hands are slickly messy. Lex can live with that. "Quick, in me, Clark..."

"Did you do that?"

"... maybe? Talk later, sex now."

Broken laugh, but Clark doesn't make him wait. Slips his thumb in and gasps.

"More, c'mon..."

Low growl and Clark replaces his thumb with two fingers, thrusting in hard and fuck, fuck yes. Lex rolls up into the touch. Pure hunger in Clark's eyes and Lex has to close his eyes against it. Doesn't want to come until Clark is in him, and this won't take long. "Just... just stretch me. Oh. Fuck. Yeah... like that... oh fuck --"

"Tell me when, Lex..."

Can't hold back a groan. "Can't wait can't fucking wait, just do me, Clark..."

Groans again when Clark slips out and the nudge of his cock against Lex's hole is exactly as bluntly real as Lex needs. Wet sounds of Clark slicking his cock more and it's so fucking hot and Lex wants to bleed for it, wants to open himself up and spill everything that's making him insane and wants to hold it all to him at the same time.

"Clark --"

Rough thrust in. "Fuck, Lex --"

Cries out loud and reaches blindly for his cock, scratching himself with the thumbnail he has no fucking clue how to unsharpen. Blood and sex in the air and Clark thrusts in another inch.


Opening Lex wide, gasping and moaning above him. Occasional snatches of actual words just making it that much more intense and --


"I never... never even fantasized about this --"

"I did."

Another and this time Clark doesn't pause, just rocks his way in, sharp little thrusts half-lifting Lex off the bed and it's good, it's perfect, he can't stop stroking himself. Can barely remember to be careful with it and when Clark's all the way in, they moan in something like tandem.

Lex tries to laugh but it comes out utterly broken. Feel of it just making him harder, making the connection more powerful, something.

Even better when Clark starts to move.

Sharp and raw, pain almost reassuring for all that it doesn't last. A price he can pay for this, because it *can't* be a gift. Clark is careful but not gentle and Lex has to wrap his legs around his waist.

Has to reach up and pull him down for a hard, awkward kiss that changes the angle and steals just enough of the depth that Lex can almost think again.

Nothing to think about. Nothing but this and Clark's whispers against his mouth --

"... never dreamed... never thought I'd see you like this... didn't know... Lex, Lex... oh please just let me..."

"What do you need?"

Biting kiss to Lex's jaw. "Open your eyes. Let me... have to see you..."

And there Clark is, braced above him and watching so hungrily. Wings arched above them and blood streaking one cheek and seeing the way he's moving over Lex is almost as incredible as feeling it.

Inside him.

Pressed too tightly together for Lex to stroke his cock, but this...

"Oh, Clark..."

"Yes --"

"Harder, please --"

And Clark throws his head back and those wings are beating at the air, maybe taking the pressure off his arms, maybe just for the sheer fuck of it. Upright again and Clark hauls him up over his lap and --

"FUCK, Clark --"

"Yes... yes, don't move... I want --"

Clark's hands on Lex's hips, lifting him and driving him back down onto his cock and

"Lex it's so --"


"So fucking good --"

Again and Lex gets his hand between them, jerks himself roughly and a sudden flare of wet makes him think he came, but he's just cutting himself with his goddamn fucking thumbnail, bleeding all over them both, getting them wetter, hotter, and Clark is so strong and the only thing Lex can do is ride it.

Take it. Take this. "Clark you feel --"

Cut off with a bruising kiss and there's no rhythm to this anymore, nothing but raw, ragged fucking and the ominous creaks of the bed and the cries they're both swallowing. Nothing but pure, nothing but good and Clark comes with a hoarse yell, slamming up into Lex and holding him like that.

Spitted over his lap like the subtext behind every sacrifice and --

"Do it... make yourself come, Lex. I want. I want to see..."

"Fuck, Clark..." Can't do anything but just go for it, leaning back against Clark's arm so he can have, fuck, a better view and Clark's still hard inside him and his thighs are wet with come and his belly's wet with blood and Clark is just fucking devouring him with his eyes. Face and cock and flexing thighs --

"You're the sexiest thing I've ever seen, Lex, I swear to -- Fuck, I swear it, okay? And you're just... so smart and funny and real and. And beautiful and please come for me I need to see it so bad I --"

Lex comes so hard he collapses, but fuck, yes, Clark is right there.

Holding on.

Taking his hand and licking it clean and laying them out on the bed. Mouthing Lex's body and it's a lot like being groomed into consciousness by some hugely perverse mother cat.

Better when Clark sprawls out half on top of him, wings not quite settling until Clark starts to doze, at which point they become the most disturbingly perfect blanket ever. Warmly alive and too vivid to completely comprehend.

Lex strokes Clark's damp, curling hair and tries to regain the use of his brain.

Wasn't he supposed to be figuring something out?

Far too sincerely fucked to move.

Wonders what time it is.

Wonders if the Kents have any idea where their little angel wound up. But, no, it was night, wasn't it?

Is it morning yet?

Lex can't see the windows past Clark's wings. Decides he honestly doesn't care that much.

Settles into the pillows, ignoring the sound of ripping cloth, and is just about to doze off when every instinct in his body starts screaming for blood. Anyone's blood. Right now and what the fuck?

"Arise! Arise! The Metatron arrives!"

Lex sits bolt upright, a move only made possible by the way that Clark is... hovering.

Yes, definitely hovering.

And glaring.

At... the Metatron.

Yes, that's definitely the Metatron. Some part of him supplying ample memories of the vaguely British, wholly prissy accent. And, of course, all the attending pomp. Supernatural voice amplification. Gleaming white robes. Flowing golden curls.

Voice of That Guy, and absolutely full of himself.

"You're not welcome here, blondie. Get the fuck out."

"Silence, Beast! You have not spoken the Words, and you have no power!"

"Fuck, do you want to wake up the whole state? Turn it down."

"The Metatron does not answer to the Beast!"

And Clark lands with a completely unsurprising surfeit of grace in front of the Metatron. "Does he answer to me? Get out. We're done with your games."

"Angel Kal, you have sinned most egregiously against the Lord our God, yet mercy doth remain for even one such as you --"

"Oh, you know what I think, Metatron?" And Clark advances on the other angel, looking positively... righteous.

Lex does his best to hold in a snicker.

"I think you can shove that mercy right up your ass."

The Metatron... smirks. "As I said, mercy remains. Your purity gained you a place among the Host without the usual sacrifices. You will be pure again." One sweeping gesture later and Lex has a bad angle but whatever happens makes Clark...


And Lex is moving before he can think, launching himself at the Metatron and... missing him.

Again, and again, no matter how close he gets. Clark's whimpering behind him, but he *can't* look, not yet --

"Speak the Words, Beast, and we can finish this here!"

Flood of want intense enough to drive Lex to his knees and the horns are growing again and there's something wrong with his teeth and this itch between his shoulderblades that he understands far more than he wants to and --

Yes. Holds on to that. Doesn't want this, doesn't want to lose --


"The Words of the Dragons are writ in your blood, Beast! And Angel Kal has nothing for you now..."

Lex turns helplessly to find Clark back on the bed, arms tight around his knees and rocking and. Crying. "What the fuck did you do to him?"

"He will be pure again, Beast. Angel Kal! Attend the decession of the Metatron!"

And Clark jerks to a stand, eyes flaring gold, tears burning off to steam. Naked and glorious and.

Emasculated. Nothing between his hips but smoothly muscled skin.

Lex watches Clark react to the flourish of trumpets coming from everywhere and nowhere and tries to think. Holds his ground when those golden eyes focus on him. Tries to find something to hope for in the steam rising from Clark's eyes. "Clark?"

"I'm so dirty, Lex..."

"Oh, Clark, fuck, no..." Reaches for him, but Clark flinches. Pulls away. Lex looks down at himself and swallows bile. Claws, hands and feet. Runs his tongue over his teeth. Fangs. Doesn't bother to pat at his head. He can feel the weight of the horns. Knows they've grown.

He won't laugh.

He won't scream.

But the rage...

The rage is necessary.

And for a moment it's exactly like being clothed in flame, excruciating and ecstatic and Lex can feel the universe... attend.

The itch between his shoulderblades obliterated in a blast of growth and yes, there are his wings, growing and spreading and uncurling themselves with a leathery rustle.

The Words sing in him, as does the power. He can sway multitudes. They would all wear his mark.

This time... this time all bets were off.

Lex grins, sharp and broad. Focuses on the whimpers coming from behind him again.

Rage, yes.

Words, of course.

And power.

"Clark?" The sound of his own voice is desperately intoxicating, addictive. "Clark, pay attention."

"The lies and and... I've lied to so many and I have drank from the cup of fornication and spilled my seed upon the --"

"Clark." Spins to face him, taking out one of the bedposts with the sharp edge of a wing. They're surprisingly pale, for all their lack of feathers. The color of the tough belly of some darkling creature. Clark is curled in on himself again, but looking at Lex. This is improvement. "Clark... I love to say your name, you know that? But now would be a good time for you to shut the fuck up."

Clark recoils like he's been slapped, which, considering what Lex has learned about the particular power of his voice, is entirely possible. But his eyes go wide again, gold fading to simple, achingly sad blue. Improvement. "Lex? What..."

"Don't look down, Clark."

Clark, of course, looks down. No scream this time, just a hurt little gasp that makes war seem so beautiful.

So right, so needed. (The thousand years are done...)

It all adds to the rage, and he needs it. He does.

"Lex, he made me feel. Unclean."

"I know, Clark. It's his job, but... we can fix this. Powers, remember?"

Long, silent pause.


"You don't know how it feels Lex..." Dreamy look on his face and there are fear tendrils slipping into Lex's carefully cultivated rage.

Moves closer. "Tell me."

"They're all so dirty, Lex. Lies and sex and greed and envy..."

"Sloth, and wrath, and gluttony, and pride, yeah, I get the idea --"

"I don't have to be that way. Not anymore..." Clark's smile is nothing short of beatific. "You don't, either. Repent, Lex. There is mercy for even the vilest sinner, there is... purity..."

"Oh, fuck, Clark --"

"Imagine what your Voice could do, Lex! The Metatron is old, it doesn't understand the world anymore --"

"The Metatron fucking castrated you!"

Clark's brow furrows for a moment and Lex takes his chance, focuses the entire force of his will on Clark's body and...


Save that Clark's now looking at him suspiciously. "What did you just try to do? What happened?"

Scrubs a hand over his head before he can think and has to laugh -- the horns have grown enough to curve backwards on themselves. No more accidental maimings. Beautiful. "I tried to get you your dick back, Clark! Hell, at this point I'd settle for metaphorically."

Flare of gold. "Your powers can't affect me, Beast. Not until you speak the Words. And when you do...

"It will be between us. As it is meant."

"Well, I hate to say 'I told you so,' but... all right, that's not true, I love saying I --"

Lex doesn't even have to think, the gesture to shut his father up, if not out, is just... there.

Makes him wonder about those Beasts who've come before.

Looks over his shoulder to find his father somehow managing to smirk at him despite lacking anything resembling a mouth. It would have to do.

"Speak the Words, Beast --"

"Oh, fuck, Clark. Don't... don't do this."

"So it was written --"

"What happened to telling them to fuck off?"

Briefest flicker of blue. "So it was written, so it shall be. Why do you fight? This body has nothing for you now."

Lucifer taps him on the shoulder, and Lex whirls around ready to just hit the man, but he's holding a sign.

'He has a point, son.'

"Great. You and fucking Wile E. Coyote, Dad. Go away, would you?"

His father shrugs and disappears.

And Clark is looking at him curiously, or would be if the pupil-less gold could hold any expression but generalized righteousness. Head cocked to the side, sitting tailor-style on the rumpled covers. Unnaturally smooth skin stretched over... absolutely nothing.

Hard to look in those eyes without wanting... everything he's supposed to want. All that epically violent sublimation that his body is so ready for.

That Clark's body is ready for.

At least they gave the Ken dolls a lump.

Lex has no laughter for this, because...

Because where, exactly, is all that control Clark talked about?

Is he even still in there?

And if he isn't...

One lonely freak in the carnival tent, when all Lex would have to do to have a place again, to have a life again, would be to say the Words. Had he really thought he could do this alone? One Beast against the entirety of the Host, against the Will?

He's not a fool. He hasn't lost it completely. The world is large, bright and beautiful. Teeming with life that Lex, for the most part, has nothing against.

And before he was gifted with the vision of his own abruptly literalized guardian angel outside his bedroom window, it had been enough.

More than enough.

Even with the horns.

But the cosmic jokes really do keep on coming, and Lex...

Lex doesn't want to be alone anymore.

All right.

Crawls onto the bed, destroying another bedpost before he remembers to fold his wings in. They settle heavily against his back, and their warmth is exactly as satisfying as a hug to yourself. Kneels in front of Clark, focuses on his hands until they're hand-like enough not to cause any injury.

Clark is perfect again, clean of every mark Lex left.

He thinks the fire burned away his own.

All right.

Lex cups Clark's cheeks between his palms and kisses the hard, still mouth.

Shivers a little at the lack of response and pulls back.

Can't quite keep himself from stroking the boy's face, carding his fingers in thick hair. Even harder to stop when those gold eyes close, because it's almost perfect again.

Almost. "They're wrong, you know. Or maybe I should say *you're* wrong. It was... it was enough to just have you, Clark. My friend.

"The sex was... pretty fucking spectacular, actually, but I didn't exactly have a lot of time to plan your seduction once you showed up. Not that I hadn't been planning before, but.

"Yeah, I'm wasting time, aren't I?"

Presses one last kiss to Clark's forehead, to a dramatically perfect roll of thunder.


First order of business; slaughter the drama queens.

Just as soon as he can stop staring at Clark -- the angel -- and fucking well wishing. Lex Luthor: Anti-Christ, Beast, and twelve year old girl.

Swallows an entirely different set of words, takes a breath, and... thinks about it.

Snickers to himself, half-aware of the god-fucking-damned *angel's* frown out of the corner of his eye. It's not as though he has anything left to lose.

"Hey, Clark? For what it's worth? I think I must've loved you."

"Don't --"

Rage roaring back in an eyeblink and Lex turns on the angel. "Don't fucking tell me, 'don't,' Angel! He was mine, and now he always will be, so fuck off before I rip his face off your body!"


More silence, and Lex forces himself to actually focus on the angel, who is.


Clawing at himself and shuddering and oh, fuck, oh fuck please -- "Clark!"

No fucking clue what to do, if just pouncing on Clark and clutching him the way he wants to would help or hinder, and in the end all he can be sure of is begging.

"C'mon, come back to me, we don't have to do this, they fucked it up, and maybe we will, too, but, you know, not in the destroy-the-world fuck-up way... I'll buy you a fucking *strap-on*, Clark, just --"

"My body it's my body get out get out --"

And Clark throws his head back and howls, breaking every window in the room and possibly in the entire fucking castle. The wind's blowing in from seemingly everywhere and the world becomes its own negative with every lighting strike.

Something, somewhere, is burning, and the only light is the storm and... their own bodies. Hot and cold, and Lex isn't sure which is which.

Can't stay away any longer, fighting the wind and pelting storm to get to Clark, who is...



"A *strap-on*? You're going to buy me a *strap-on*?"

Lex looks down. "Oh, thank you... you!" The flesh is as raw and red as a newborn's, but it's there.

And possibly bigger. Hmm.

And he's seriously considering calling Clark on it, just for the sheer fuck of it, when lightning strikes the castle.

And keeps striking.

And strikes some more.

And a little more, and apparently they aren't even pretending to use normal lightning anymore, because the castle is rapidly disintegrating around them.

"Uh, Lex?"

"Yep, fast exit time."

They're just about to the suddenly much larger bay window when the roof collapses on them, at which point Lex decides consciousness is far, far too much effort.

The pain wakes him up before too long, though, or possibly just the sudden calm. Lex has just enough time to worry about Clark, before he hears a healthy-sounding groan.

Well, alive-sounding.

"Are you okay, Clark?"

"Other than the fifty pound block of stone on my brand new 'nads? Just fucking fine."

Lex snorts, which causes the fifty pound block of stone on his chest to shift into rib-crushing mode. Instant karma. He hurts... pretty much all over. But he's alive. They both are. Off the hook, at least for now, and honestly, he didn't like the castle all that much anyway. There's always his trust fund.

Still, though... "Ow."

"Unless you've got a block on your 'nads, you're getting no sympathy from me, demon-boy."

"Fuck, don't make me laugh! It hurts!"

Clark snickers, and something like a miniature avalanche starts somewhere off to the left.


"Give me a second, my wings are still caught... got it. Ow."

And then there's a dusty, grinning angel standing over him, balanced on rubble, wings filthy and moderately twisted. Curving and straightening themselves back into shape as Lex watches.

The sun's rising somewhere behind him. Another ten minutes or so and Lex will be in the perfect position to view a lesser miracle.

Though that would require his continued presence under rubble. "Got a hand for your friendly, neighborhood Anti-Christ?"

Wider grin. "Just as soon as I dig one of your hands out. Did you know you're missing a horn?"

"Oh, it's probably in here somewhere. We can look for it later if you're that attached."

"Well, I've got time now..."

"Clark. Don't make me work my mojo in your general direction."

"Brave words from the guy buried in his own castle."

Lex gives his best long-suffering sigh -- hampered a bit by the aforementioned stone block pressing on his lungs -- and heaves his arms free.

Knocks the stone off his chest.

Sits up and groans at the way his own wings apparently crumpled themselves as far under the debris as possible. And then Clark wraps his arms around Lex's waist and lifts him.

Holds him, face gone serious. Watchful.


Oh. "I meant what I said."

And Clark beams at him, brushing the dust from his face for a few strokes and then just kissing him, hard, slow, and thoroughly.

Dust and heat and power between them.

Calm, lightening skies above.

"Mm. We should probably find a way to look normal and, well, clothed , before the police arrive. Or your parents."

"We could always just wrap our wings around ourselves and... look like complete freaks. Gotcha. Let's get off your hideously expensive new mountain?"

Clark flies them down to the grass and Lex thinks his feet might be in love. Cool, wet, and soft, and he seriously considers just getting down on the ground and rolling around for a while.

Later, maybe.

Looks up to find Clark shaking with the strain of something, and has to check for supernatural visitors for a few seconds before he notices the wings shrinking. Walks around behind Clark to get a better look, and it does seem as though Clark's absorbing them, but... where?

Lex waits until they're completely absent and lifts Clark. Hmm. Same weight as before.


"Just checking on that whole conservation of mass thing."

"Ack, Lex, I don't take physics until next year."

"Never too early to start learning."




Lex laughs and focuses his will on his own body. The wings go fairly easily, and Lex feels weirdly solid for a few minutes before it passes. The horns doesn't move at all, though, and Lex is starting to get pissed.

"Maybe you can just kinda... snap it off?"

"I tried that before. Let me tell you, Clark -- skull fractures are no fun at all. But... hmm."

Lex refocuses, and them calmly sets his head on fire. The horn crumbles away nicely, the flames...

"Oh, stop glaring at me, Lex, I really don't want to have sex with Ghostrider anytime soon, okay? And the puddle wasn't that muddy."

Lex sighs. Viciously represses the impulse to rub a hand over his shockingly-light-feeling scalp. The last time hurt. "Just tell me how blistered it is."

"Well... it's mainly just red. Like a bad sunburn. Relax, we have aloe back at the farm, I swear. And. Um. You can always wear a hat?"



"Fuck you."

Clark snickers, and continues to do so right up until they both hear the sirens heading their way.

"Oh, shit, Lex! Clothes! How do you do clothes?"

Which is, really, an excellent question.

One long look, and the next thing he knows, Clark is hauling him into his arms and running, full out. Lex tries to laugh but the wind just rips it away before it's fully out of his mouth.

It's looking like a good day.