CREANCE
by Kitty Fisher
BLOOD SPORTS: IV
If happiness could be bought, Clark Kent wouldn't have sold how he felt for the universe and everything in it. Monday morning, chores done, getting ready for school and he might as well have been flying.
Joy like a drug, because of Lex.
Because he'd dreamed that Lex was his boyfriend, and woken to the reality that he was. More or less. And that was a million miles closer than anything he had once hoped for.
Lex. And, oh God, Saturday night. Alexa. Sex. Maybe it wasn't a coincidence that Lex's name could be misheard so easily. Clark grinned to the mirror as he combed his hair. Whistled a tune to himself. Damn, life was good.
He pulled on a work–shirt, buttoning it as he went downstairs.
Halfway there he slowed. Smile fading. The breakfast table was ready, coffee and juice and bread and fruit, his parents were sitting next to each other. Not looking up. Not smiling. The atmosphere so thick it felt like he was walking into grain.
Finishing buttoning his shirt, he took the last few steps slowly, and wondered if he looked as wary as he felt.
"Morning." Hey, maybe he was imagining the chill in the air. Too little sleep could do funny things. Smile, Clark, smile. "Breakfast looks good." There, bright and breezy — hell it might work.
It didn't.
Martha sighed. "Morning, Clark." Shoulders slumped, she was sitting at the breakfast table cradling an orange juice. She glanced up as he approached, then went back to staring into her glass.
"Son." And his father didn't look at him either. Great.
They had to have been arguing. Maybe money was a problem again. Again? Still would be more accurate. Clark looked at each of them as he pulled out a chair and sat down. Very carefully, as if loud noises could set them off, like spooking cattle. He rested his elbows on the table and glanced at them again, studying them from under his bangs. It took him a moment to realise they looked, if anything, uncomfortable. So they had been arguing and probably about him. "You two okay?" There, casual. He reached for some toast and tried not to wonder exactly what had made them so jumpy.
"Well that depends." His father cleared his throat. "Who were you with on Saturday night?"
Clark was pouring juice, somehow he kept his hand steady. "Pete and Chloe, we went to the movies like I told you."
"Son—"
Martha interrupted. "Clark, we know you weren't out with them." She sounded weary. As if she'd been arguing against having a scene. As Clark watched her glance flickered to Jonathan, then went back to her glass, a slight frown narrowing her brow. "Mr. Andrews was driving through Metropolis late Saturday, he saw you with a tall red–headed woman getting into one of Lex's cars."
Fuck. "Dad..."
"Why did you lie, Clark?" Oh God, that tone of voice. The one his father used for major crises.
"I didn't, not exactly." Someone had seen him with Lex. Clark wondered if he'd stepped off the edge of the world and was freefalling into deep space. "I did go out with Pete and Chloe. We went to the movie just like I said. But, then... well, Chloe wanted to dance so we went to this club, which was okay and not like, serious or anything." He looked at them, sure they were imagining drugs and debauchery. Which hadn't happened. Not there anyway.
"And?"
"I got bored. So I left — I was going to get the bus home, really. But then..." He stopped, mouth open but no words to fill it. How could he explain — anything at all about what he had done? That would mean admitting about Lex. And maybe explaining Alexa. He felt cold at the thought. They expected him to finish the sentence... "Then—"
"Then what? That's exactly what we want to know, Clark. And how come you mentioned none of it on Sunday? I'm pretty certain your mother asked if you'd had a good time in Metropolis and I know for a fact that you answered really affirmatively."
Clark tried to slide into his seat. Wanting to be a smaller target for the two pairs of eyes currently pinning him to his chair. "I just, kinda, forgot to explain. Sorry." Shrug. Not exactly a lie. He'd been so wound up in everything that had happened that he'd hardly registered the conversation about his night out, which sounded stupid and he doubted his parents were going to buy that as a reasonable excuse. Fuck, he'd be grounded for a month. Maybe longer.
But how could he give them answers? Even if he had thought about little else since Lex had dropped him off by the far pasture, kissing him goodbye with only the crows as witness.
Or so he hoped.
"Well then, this girl, the one who put all sense out of your head, who is she?"
Clark looked blank. He knew he was sweating. He didn't like lying, however often he did it. And a lifetime of every smashed dish or tool being discovered and blame laid carefully — and fairly — at his door, went a long way to convincing him that his parents were omniscient. "Who?"
"Your date. I guess she has to be a friend of Lex. Did you meet her at the Luthors'?"
"Oh, my date. Yeah." He fought the urge to giggle. Stopped himself because it was more tragic than funny and besides, if he started laughing he might not stop until someone called in the nice men from the funny farm.
His father nodded. "Is she why you spend so much time up at the castle? At least that would make more sense than you wanting to be with Lex Luthor all the time. Who is she, Clark? Jasper Andrews said she looked older than you and — according to him — seriously classy. Which makes me wonder, what exactly does she want from you, son?"
"Jonathan!" Martha, mildly shocked. Clark took a long breath as his mother rode to his defence. Gentle rebuke. "Stop interrogating him." She put her glass down and looked at Clark, sympathetically. Or so he hoped. "Clark, we just can't believe you lied to us."
"I'm sorry." He hated making her upset. Really hated it. But... "I didn't mean to lie, I just didn't think." That was truth. If he'd thought for a moment he would have invented a better story. Damn Mr. Andrews — who should have been tucked up in bed like any other self–respecting farmer at that time in the morning.
"Son, you just don't think often enough." Jonathan leant forward, fists on the table. "Who is she? Are you dating her? Your mother and I thought you were keen on Chloe now that Lana is out of the picture."
"I..." Oh damn. How could he answer any of that? His dad sounded totally confused, as if Clark's love life was a mystery. If he knew the truth? Well, actually, Dad, she wasn't a woman, she was Lex and I fucked him in the limo on the ride home. Slapped him around a bit too which was really hot. Oh, okay, he's a bit older than me, but it's cool. Honest. No, Dad, don't call the cops. Lex wouldn't like prison much.
"Okay, Clark." Jonathan folded his arms. "You're too young to be out 'til all hours."
"Why was it fine when you thought I was out with Chloe but not with...someone else?"
"It was fine when we thought you were going to the movies. Chloe and Pete got back home by 2am. What time did you roll home?"
After Lex had left him he'd walked slowly across the fields. Smiling like a loon at everything because he was so happy. Wondering exactly when he'd fallen quite so thoroughly in love. "I don't know. I walked around for a bit after the limo dropped me off. I guess I was back by 4.30. Maybe 5."
"And you left two youngsters to fend for themselves while you did God knows what!"
Clark felt himself flush. What was he now, protector of everyone in Smallville? They'd want him to guard the school–crossing next. "They were fine! Pete was getting along really well with Chloe, when I said good bye to them I was feeling about as welcome as a fifth wheel. Besides, they knew I was leaving, they were fine with it."
"And then you met up with this woman by accident. You really expect us to believe that?"
"Yes. Because it's the truth." He could hear his father cursing silently. But it was the truth.
A deep sigh. "Then tell us who she is."
"A friend." He stared at his father defiantly.
"Sure — a Metropolis socialite hanging around with a kid from Smallville! What are we supposed to think."
"She's twenty–one, Dad, not exactly Mrs. Robinson." Clark took a deep breath, trying to contain his anger.
"Are you sleeping with her?"
"Jonathan!"
"Martha, we need to know who Lex has spying on Clark—"
"Stop it." Clark stood up, his chair toppling over, the sound so loud. Somehow he managed not to splinter pine as he gripped the table's edge. "Stop it."
"Stop what? Worrying about you?" Jonathan was on his feet too. "You're seventeen."
"I'm seventeen and who I fuck is my own business."
The world lurched to a standstill.
"Oh, Clark..." Martha had her hand over her mouth. As if she had never sworn. Never heard the word, or thought to hear the word from her child's mouth.
"Come on, Dad. Lex has let all that stuff about the accident drop, you know that. I told you and he doesn't lie to me."
"Luthors lie easy as breathing. And I hope you take precautions when you fuck some Luthor cast–off!"
Clark felt the blood drain from his face and knew his anger had to show. Anger and pain. He didn't want to hear these words, not from his father. Backing away from the table he just shook his head. There were no answers to that. "I think I better get to school."
Martha was on her feet. "No, you're not leaving like this. I'm not having you two spend the rest of the week not talking to each other." She glared fiercely at Jonathan. "You've both said things you'll regret. Admit it now."
The three of them stood quite still. Clark looked at his parents in turn and wished that he could tell the truth. Wished whole–heartedly. Resentment that he couldn't made him stubborn.
"I haven't said anything I regret. I wish I'd told you where I'd been — that I'm sorry about — but I really don't regret anything else. Dad, you have no right to say those things. Why can't you just get your head around the fact that Lex is my friend. He isn't investigating me. Dad, I don't know why you hate him so much, but please, please, don't make me hate you because you hate him." Clark swallowed. He knew he was begging. Didn't care. He needed this, needed his father to let go.
"You're our child. We have to worry, it's what parents do, Clark." Martha softened, and looked pleadingly at him.
"Mom, I know. And with all the other stuff about me..." he shrugged helplessly. "But I want to be normal. I want to go out and have fun and make friends and have dates and do things that other boys do. I stayed out late — I didn't trash the school or take drugs or stop doing my chores. Dad?"
Jonathan made a dismissive noise, and sat back down, deliberately pouring a fresh glass of juice, his face set, stubborn.
"Mom?"
"I know it probably looks to you as if we're over–reacting. But can't you just tell us who she is?"
He shook his head. "I can't. It's that or lie to you, and I'm sure you don't want that. But I didn't plan to see her, it was coincidence. I didn't plan to stay out so late, but I was having a really, really good time. I was happy, Mom. Happy and safe and not hurting anyone." With a last look between them he stood away from the table. He lifted his school–bag up and headed for the door, his boots so loud on the wooden floor he wanted to tiptoe. His hand was turning the handle when his mother called over.
"I've made your favourite pie for supper so don't be late." Question, truce, hope. It had to be hard having two stubborn Kent men to deal with.
Clark smiled at her, warming as she smiled in return. "Okay, Mom."
"Have a good day at school."
"Thanks." He took a few steps back into the kitchen and kissed her cheek, pausing as she gripped his arm and stared up intently. "What is it?"
"You're growing up so fast. Give us time to catch up with that, okay?"
Clark wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry. "Mom...okay." He even managed to smile. "Can I get to school now?"
"Go on then."
With one glance at his father, he went. Jumping down the steps, door clattering shut behind him. He was halfway to the road before he took a breath. On the road itself before he stopped in his tracks and just stood still, looking up at the wide sky.
So many lies.
So many ways to let people down.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and stared at a small cloud. It would rain later.
All he wanted to do was go to Lex. But Lex would be working. And if he didn't go to school they'd call and ask why. Sometimes he hated being a kid. Seventeen though. Nearly old enough to tell his dad he was fucking another man. Maybe.
Was he old enough to tell that other man a few other truths though? That was a question.
Clark sighed and dropped his head down. Okay, the dust was just as unenlightening as the sky. Except the earth needed the rain. Oh yes, he was a farmer. He thought stupid farmerish thoughts because that was the way he'd been raised.
Nature and nurture. Well, his nature was a mystery and his nurture was a world away from wanting to tie anyone up and beat them until they came, screaming. Where had that come from? Not early morning lessons with ma and pa or listening to tales told by the old–folks at the home. That was for sure. Maybe it was part of his otherness. The alien that he really was.
Even thinking it made him flinch.
God knew what it would do to Lex.
After sex. He'd tell Lex after they had loved each other. And he'd tell him about his parents, and the hell–over–breakfast scene. Lex would probably laugh. He could do with that right now. Lex laughing in his arms, all sleek and slick from too much sex.
Too much?
Maybe he was getting old too. The thought actually made him smile, cheering him enough that he ran all the way into school and wasn't late at all.
* * * * *
He made it through to lunch without walking out. Though hiding away in the science rooms wasn't such a good idea after all as all he got for his pains was a lecture on how, if he wanted good grades, he had to pay attention in class and not just stare out of the window. Which was unfair, as he wasn't normally as distracted as he'd been today. When his mind was a mass of images of Lex and conflicting ideas on how to tell him The Secret.
Or even if he should.
But trust had to be shared to be perfect. And Lex was sharing so much, and Clark was sharing nothing. Apart from his sexual kinks.
He waited until the lab was empty then sat in a corner and stared into nowhere, slumped over the bench, head propped on one hand. He was seventeen. In love and not able to tell anyone in the whole world. Not even the object of his affections. Not really. He didn't want Lex to think he was a complete dork. Lex didn't really go in for massive displays of affection. Though maybe that was only with other people. He certainly didn't like anyone else to touch him. At all. Let alone in the ways he encouraged Clark to do. Encouraged and demonstrated and—
Clark shifted, feeling his cock begin to get hard. Well, there was no doubt that he was turned on by Lex. Even by thinking about him. And love was about all that, wasn't it? Love and attraction and shared desires and shared needs. God, Lex certainly shared most of everything that Clark needed. Encouraged more as well. Lex the worldy–wise and world–weary, all cool put–downs and elegant, fabulous life–style. Lex who begged to be fucked. Lex who had knelt and sucked Clark's cock in public. Lex who looked like cold vanilla ice–cream still frosted from the freezer, but who in private was exotic as hot chocolate sauce spooned straight from the bowl. Or something with chilli. Fiery, sweet, beyond his words to describe. Addictive though. Addictive and necessary. He couldn't imagine life without Lex. Ever.
He sat up, easing his pants. Breathing evenly until his cock softened. Then, standing up, he hesitated. So unsure he surprised himself. He'd never run off early from school, but... he needed to see Lex. The need like a physical pain, constricting his ribs so it was hard to breathe.
One more class, maybe. Then he could get away unmissed.
One more. He picked up his bag and walked out of the lab. Checking the time on the corridor clock. An hour and he could be at Lex's. Even being there alone would be better than being here. The staff at the manor had instructions to always let him in — at any time, even if Lex was out. He could be curled on Lex's couch reading something really educational, instead of studying, what was next? Damn, English, which meant poetry, and probably something drippy as that was what Miss. Andersen liked best. Coleridge, Keats, Shelley. Hail to thee blithe spirit. No, no, no... Lex had some good poetry, stuff that was interesting and different, and fun for God's sake. No blithe or prithee or thee and thou. Poetry that was the same as talking. He'd found he liked a lot of what Lex read him. Though maybe that was because Lex was doing the reading. That voice... when they were lying in bed, close, and Lex was all boneless and drunk on happiness so that he rambled on about all and everything, quoting poets and philosophers and lyrics from dead rockstars. Lex drunk from being tied down. From loving it with such absolute abandon that he talked about what he wanted, about what he liked. Whispering secrets in the darkness, their bodies wrapped together—
Oh hell, he was going to be hard again soon. Like right now. And he wasn't sure he could cope.
Feeling hunted he ducked into the English classroom and picked a seat by the door, ready for a fast getaway. The board had a poem written up already. All old words and weird rhyming. He ignored it, calming his breathing again, hating the jitteriness that made him so uneasy. He forced himself to be patient. An hour and he could be away. At Lex's. And then everything would be fine.
Though what if Lex was going out? Clark drummed his fingers on the desk. Then stood up. Leaving his bag he jogged to the line of school pay–phones, fumbling in his pockets for change. The number as familiar as his own. He was put straight through to Lex.
"Clark? Are you alright?"
"Yeah." He was, now. "Sorry to call you at the office, I was just..." He tapped his fingers on the phone's casing. "Look, will you be going home after work?"
"Yes." Clark could hear background voices and Lex saying something muffled, then silence. "That's better, I'm alone now."
"I was missing you."
"Clark..."
"Look, I've got to be in class, oh, two minutes ago, but can I see you later?"
"Sure. Come around anytime you want, I'll be back as soon as I can. Make yourself at home."
"Can I go to bed?" Clark smiled as he heard Lex laugh.
"If you want. I'll warn Niels to leave you alone."
"Okay." Clark was suddenly grinning. "See you later then."
"Yeah, study hard."
"Gee, thanks. It's the Romantic poets and I've never liked daffodils."
"Ask your teacher about the sex and drugs instead."
"You mean those old guys actually did something interesting?"
"Sure. And if your teacher won't tell you all the sordid details, come here and ask me later..."
Clark lowered his voice and checked over his shoulder that no–one was eavesdropping. "Lex, do other men use poetry as foreplay?"
Another laugh, this time more like a giggle. "None that I've met. Though if you ask her nicely, Cherry might tell you some of her repertoire of obscene limericks."
"Ah, very educational."
"Actually, they are."
"Gotta go."
"Bye, Clark. Can you stay for the evening?"
Jerk of arousal. Yes, yes. He'd arrange it somehow. "Sure."
"Good." Oh he knew that tone of voice. "Bye for now."
"Bye, Lex."
He was back in class in time for a reprimand. Though he was sure he was smiling all the way through it. The class itself was fine, he drifted off, paying attention here and there. Ignoring Chloe's attempts to semaphore. He didn't, couldn't think about anything. Not friends, school, food. Not until he'd seen Lex.
When they were dismissed he slipped away, pretending he didn't hear Chloe calling after him. Out through the school gates, down an alley. He looked around, waited to be certain no–one was looking, then ran.
So fast that he was out of breath, sweat a cold trickle down his spine by the time he was standing on Lex's doorstep. The rain was getting closer, the humidity soaring. Clark wiped his face on his sleeve, then lent his hand on the wooden door. Wood, warm and grainy under his fingers, the scent of jasmine from nearby, stone slightly crunchy under his boots. The huge edifice of Castle Luthor looming above him. Not exactly home, not even for Lex. Grand hotel living with more efficient staff, or so Lex had once described it.
His lips tasted of salt when he licked them. With a slight sigh he used his sleeve to wipe his face again, then pushed the door bell. Chimes echoed dimly, and he waited. Anticipation a thread in his blood. To be in Lex's house, waiting. Ready for when Lex came home. He kicked at the ground, wanting to feel less wound up, but not sure how to manage it. Perhaps Lex could teach him some of those breathing exercises that looked painfully intricate. He certainly didn't want any more caffeine. He'd downed two lattes already, just because they were sweet and comforting and he figured they might help him forget the look on his father's face when he started to talk about Alexa.
Shit, it wasn't even as if Lex dressed as a woman very often. Their first time and some damn Smallville farmer had to be slumming it in Metropolis and see them.
Though what if he had seen Lex. Or someone had been close when Lex dropped him off. Lex, wrapped in a blanket sarong style, perfectly at home half–dressed in the stark, early morning countryside, his skin rising in goose–bumps as Clark hugged him. Someone could have seen them kiss.
He rang the bell again. Cursing softly as at that moment the door opened.
"Sorry, Neils, I was being impatient."
A small smile, and the butler stepped back to admit him. "No matter, sir, I was at the top of the building. Mr Luthor is out, would you care to wait for him?"
"Thanks. Great. I'll be fine." Clark headed off down a corridor.
"Would you like anything to drink?"
"No, thanks. I'll just wait."
"Very good, sir."
Lex's office was cool. Light streamed through the stained–glass windows, but seemingly not heat. Either that or the air–conditioning was both efficient and unobtrusive. Which was entirely likely. Clark dumped his bag on the couch and wandered around. Books were everywhere, some on display which were probably worth a fortune, others just there. Boring tomes, legal and business and history, along with poetry and literature. The really interesting books Lex kept in his room.
Smiling, Clark went to the pool table, stroked his hand over the baize. Purple. He'd only ever seen them in green before he met Lex, so maybe this one was custom built. And why not. Purple was a good colour, for baize cloth or for shirts. Imperial, royal, Luthorial. He particularly liked Lex in the pale lavender shirts that arrived from London in beautiful pink boxes. Shirts soft, fitted, formal enough that peeling them away felt like a perfect kind of desecration.
But he enjoyed undressing Lex whatever he was wearing. Whether it felt like desecration or veneration. Undressing Lex and then re–dressing him in ropes, or straps, or cuffs — soft leather that felt buttery in his hands and smelt so good when warm from Lex's sweating skin.
How had Lex ever known? How did you know you wanted to be tied and beaten? How did you ever get to the point in your head where you could say, hurt me now? Use me. Though he guessed his own desires, the mirror–desires of Lex's were just as confusing to some. He'd known for a long time. Though meeting Lex had been the catalyst. Being taken to Lex's bed and offered total trust. Yes, tie me. Yes, hurt me. Make me scream, Clark. Make me feel.
Clark leaned on the table, head down, then turned, startled as the door opened.
"Lex!"
"Hello."
"I didn't expect you back so soon!"
Lex standing there, hands in his pockets, eyeing Clark from head to toe, while he smiled that smile. "I guess I'm truanting, just like you."
"Really?"
"Yeah, the plant won't fall to pieces without me, and your call sounded... like you needed to see me. What's happened?"
"Oh." Clark winced. "Was I that obvious?"
"Yep."
Deep breath. "Someone saw me with Alexa in Metropolis and they told mom and dad."
"Ah. Definitely Alexa?" Clark nodded. "Though if they'd seen me I guess I'd be in the town lock–up by now."
"They wouldn't. Mom and dad wouldn't, Lex, they..."
"You're their precious only, and let's not forget this, underage son. Who the big, bad city rich–boy is fucking. Add to the mix the fact your father really dislikes me, my father and everything LuthorCorp stands for and I think you can empathise a little with their position. You think there isn't anything they wouldn't do to keep us apart?"
"You're not fucking me, well, you haven't actually, if you see..."
"Semantics, Clark. Just because your ass is still virgin doesn't mean we don't fuck." Lex closed the space between them and looked up at Clark. The smile tugging at his lips grew a little bigger. "In some countries we're married."
Clark blinked, about to answer when he realised Lex was teasing. "Oh..."
"Mm. So who saw us?"
"A neighbour. Dad gave me a lecture and I think he and mom had been fighting about it before I got up. All this was over breakfast and I'm not sure I want to drink orange juice ever again."
"Poor Clark." A hand reached up, and Lex touched his chin with one finger. "Can I make it up to you?"
"It's not your fault!"
"I rather think it might be. And I like to make amends when I can."
"Lex..."
"I've cleared the house of staff for the rest of the day. We're alone, the doors are locked and I am turning my cell off." With his other hand he reached into his jacket and pulled the tiny handset free. A press on a button and the screen went dark. "There. Now tell me you have something better to do?"
"Never." Clark dipped his head into the stroking hand, sighing. "I've been thinking about you all day. No, longer, ever since you said goodbye to me. Even when I was walking over the fields and I could still smell you and taste you, even then I wanted more." Clark shivered, once, then pulled Lex close. Hugging him, holding him tight. "Don't ever think badly of me, please."
"Hey! What's going on in there? Something else happen I don't know about?" Lex leant his head back, peering at Clark through narrowed eyes.
"No. Not unless you count Dad warning me about dating your cast–offs and then making sure I was taking precautions." Clark shook his head, and groaned softly as Lex's hands came up and started to massage his neck.
"Ouch! Families."
"And mine are good! Most times..."
"Yes, they are. But, hey, let's not kiss in Main Street. That way they won't feel obliged to have me arrested. Pact?"
"Pact." Clark felt the tension in his muscles ease. Lex could do that just by being here, by being sardonic and being able to make light of stuff that made Clark uptight and miserable. Clark pulled Lex back into a hug, relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. He spoke into Lex's shoulder, words muffled. "No kissing outside the Talon." Lex smelled of some herby cologne, of wool and crisp clean cotton. Solid bone and muscle under thousand dollar suiting. Slim, light. Fine–boned as opposed to his own bulk. Comfort, completion, home. Arousing as nothing and no–one else had ever been.
"What are you thinking?"
Clark rubbed his cheek on dark wool. Sighed as he rested his head sideways. "That I'm lucky to have found you."
He felt Lex's body give a small, single shiver. When he spoke his voice was low, roughened somehow. "Clark..."
"I am lucky."
"We both are." Lex straightened, waiting until Clark did too, and they were looking each other directly in the eye. He seemed to hesitate, as if he was going to say something, then at the last minute changed his mind. "Come on. Bed." He turned, and taking hold of Clark's hand led him out of the office, loosening his tie as he walked. He looked serene. Lex Luthor, neither shaken nor stirred. The tie was pulled off with a sigh, and he unfastened his top button. Lavender cotton shirt. Clark looked sideways at it and felt desire begin to twist in his belly.
The bedroom was bright and light and neat. Lex tossed his jacket over a chair, then went over to pull the heavy drapes closed. A sidelight gave soft illumination. Their world. Secret. No prying eyes or cameras. Just the two of them.
Lex walked up to him, easy walk, from the hips. His patent, I own the world and all that is in it, walk. You only had to see Lex to know he knelt for no man, that he was the master, the conqueror, the strong. Yet... and yet. Maybe it was that singular strength that enabled him to offer himself so totally.
"What do you want, Clark?" Standing close but not touching. Just there, breathing, watching, owning the universe with quiet authority.
Clark ached with simply wanting him. "You."
"You have me. You know that."
"Yes" Clark lifted his hand and let his forefinger run along the edge of collar, down to touch skin, where the cotton parted, unfastening a button, then the next. "Lex..." He spread his fingers and stroked, feeling the bones just beneath the skin, collarbones so fragile, tracing up to Lex's strong neck, feeling him swallow, the muscles rippling under his fingers. He pressed, gently, feeling the life pulsing. A shift of perception and he was watching blood flowing, seeing the bones, the way Lex's body was knitted together. Warp and weft of skin and sinew. Heartbeat speeding, pushing his blood faster until it threaded through his body with urgency.
"What is it?"
Shifting back. "Nothing." Just watching you live. "I want to fuck you."
"I've never objected yet." Quiet amusement.
"No."
"Clark—" Infinitesimal hesitation. "—just do what you want, take whatever you need."
Quiet perception wound into words which offered everything, the world as if it was nothing. "Lex, I want so much."
"Like I said, do it." Smile. "Take it."
Clark hesitated. He wasn't sure what he wanted. But he wanted Lex. Wanted Lex to stop thinking, stop analysing. To belong to him. Totally. He slipped his hands over Lex's head. Holding him, fingers laced around his skull. "Anything?"
"Yes."
"Then this." And he slid one hand until it covered Lex's face. Curving his fingers tight to skin, sealing Lex's lips, his nostrils. Surprising himself with the knowingness of it, as he held his hand still and watched Lex's eyes widen, pupils slowly dilating. Grey leeched away by black. By echoed need and the shadow of real, bone–deep fear.
Hard, sharp–edged arousal. Clark almost gasping as he felt the draw of Lex trying to breathe through him. Suction as he tried to suck air through skin. Long moment when Lex stood quite still, though his body was taut, only lifting his hand to Clark's waist for support, as his skin darkened and he seemed to sway, the struggle so internalized, so fine, that he was shuddering, knees giving way, just before Clark finally let him breathe.
Gasping breaths. Relief so obvious. Though he had only been without air for, how long? More than a minute, maybe less. Lex, leaning into Clark as if seeking equilibrium. Then his mouth, wet and open, kissing hard, offering everything as Clark bent and took it all. Kisses, like shadow–play on a dark night. Hungry, devouring. Pulling Lex so close it felt as if they were one, still clothed, still separate but somehow the same. One need, shared. One desire. Heartbeat fluttering against his chest. All from a single gesture. A single promise.
Lex, lifting his face. "Anything, Clark." His eyes mirror–calm, showing only trust.
"It scared you."
"Yes."
"But you still want this?"
"Fuck me any way you want, do anything you want."
"Take off your clothes." An order, not a request.
Small groan in Lex's throat, and he stepped back, kicking off his shoes as he unfastened the buttons on his shirt, cufflinks tossed to one side, pulling the cotton away, baring pale skin and a swathe of mottling bruises.
"Wait."
Lex paused. Curiosity lifting his brows.
Clark reached for him, hands wide and warm on the pale, chilled skin, fingertips tracing the patterns he had made. "From Saturday?"
"Yes."
Clark nodded as the information made sense. Then he bent and kissed his own finger–prints, the oval marks already shading from black to purple to green. Repentant yet thrilled with a dark complexity he had no way of understanding, just knowing that it thrilled Lex too, and that was enough. As if marking Lex with violence somehow spoke more eloquently of love than they would ever manage with words. "You know, I wanted to bruise you. I actually wanted you to feel me in your skin even when you were at work, or alone... I'm sorry."
"Don't." Lex hissed as Clark probed harder. "I wanted this too. I'm not made of glass. I don't shatter because you hold me too hard."
"You bruise though."
"I've smiled at every wince for nearly two days, Clark. I don't count that as a problem."
"Lex, I can be gentle, now, if—"
"Is that what you really want?"
Deep breath. "No." Honesty.
"Good. Try me and see." Smile, and a small wince as Clark squeezed his nipple.
"Then I told you to get undressed."
"I am... was — fuck!"
Clark eased off, watching as Lex sucked in air, letting pain flow out of him as Clark soothed his thumb over bruised skin. "Are you arguing with me?"
"No!" Lex was smiling. A brightness in his eyes around the sharp eagerness of arousal. He started to unfasten his pants.
"Good. Now don't say anything..."
Waiting until all the clothing was gone, Clark sighed as he stood close, stroking skin here, there, there. Touching bruises, and places he knew Lex was ultra–sensitive; the inside of his elbows, the back of his neck, the curve of his ass just where it dipped into thigh. Naked Lex, standing like a statue, eyes half–closed as Clark explored. So much smooth skin. More perfect than marble. Tiny veins where the epidermis was at its finest; wrists, ankles, eyelids, throat. Harsh swallow as Lex seemingly forced himself to stay still. Clark kissed him. Gift and offering. Kissing slowly, lushly, as if time was a forbidden concept. Mouth to mouth, casually holding Lex's hands pressed into the small of his back. Binding him one–handed. Arching him back as he kissed, as he took. Stroking with his other hand. Skin and Lex and scalp and cock rising to press into his groin, hard and hot even through cotton.
He let Lex go. "Turn around."
Wet mouth, licked by the tip of Lex's tongue as he turned, hands still clasped behind him. Clark went to the chest which held their special things. He fetched two straps, custom made, each two inches wide, different lengths. One he bound around the fine wrists, the other just above Lex's elbows. He pulled both tight, until Lex's shoulders were bowed back, the leather starkly black against his skin.
"Kneel on the bed."
He could hear Lex breathing. Hear the force of will that took him the four paces to the bed, that kept him silent. Clark watched him climb up on to the woven cover, the firm mattress hardly giving under his weight. Lex settled. Every now and then he bit at his lower lip. It was red already from Clark's kisses. He hadn't been kind.
Quickly Clark stripped. He was hard, wetly eager. Condoms were in the night–table. He found one, ripped it open, tossing the wrapper aside before easing latex over his erection. A thin film of lube followed. He squeezed more into his hand and went to lie on the bed, wriggling until he was in the middle, head and shoulders propped high on goose–down pillows, his feet towards Lex.
"Straddle me."
Lex turned, slowly, very slightly awkward with his harshly bound arms pulled so tight behind his back. Then he started the long journey upwards. Walking on his knees, face unreadable as he worked his way up the length of Clark's body, knees either side of Clark's neatly pressed together legs, his balls scraping over Clark's toes. The smooth inside skin pressing along the darker hairiness of Clark's shins, then past his knees, along his thighs, to his hips. Settling there, thighs spread wide across the solid shape of bone and hard arousal. Waiting. Obedient. Very slightly challenging.
Clark shuddered. His cock spearing back, almost slapping his belly. Wanting. This, all day. Longer. Lex, on his own. As his own. Waiting for the moment when Lex stopped thinking and started just feeling.
"Kneel up."
Lex stretched up, tiny expression of effort on his face as Clark forced him higher, and pushed lube into his ass. "Sore?"
Nod.
"Too sore for this?"
Violent shake of head and a glare that was about as submissive as a shouted order. Clark smiled. Tweaked the bruised nipple with one hand and shoved two fingers of the other inside Lex's asshole. Lex hissed, arching back, almost rippling with the sudden pain. After a moment he eased, breathed. Almost relaxed.
Clark finger–fucked him hard and fast, watching as Lex's skin flushed and his cock lifted, getting somehow harder, darker. Pain there, but Lex riding it. Taking it, using it until Clark slipped his fingers away, the sound as they slid out wet and raw. He pushed them back, feeling the resistance, dipping in and out of the tight muscle, before bringing them back, sliding them upwards, pressing at perineum, balls, fingers tracing up the entire length of hard cock to tease at the slit.
Smiling, he eased his thumb–nail into the opening, watching Lex gasp, watching his hips jerk spasmodically as Clark's nail pushed deeper. Deeper, until Lex groaned, the sound long and close to keening as his cock opened for Clark's casually brutal penetration. He was shaking his head, breathing in tiny, edgy episodes. Arching backwards, mouth wide, balls so tight they could only be painful.
Clark let go.
Grasped his own cock. Holding it so it pointed straight up, purple head bulging past his fist. "Lex, sit on me."
It took a moment. Lex was gasping, hardly focussing. After a long pause he wiped his face on his shoulder. Sweat glistened on his skin. Then he lifted up, the muscles in his thighs outlined with effort as he pushed himself onto Clark's cock, and Clark felt the heat and tightness of Lex's ass bearing down. Pushing, using gravity, letting his own weight pull him onto the thickness that was held up for him. Lex gasped aloud, groaned so deeply it was as if Clark felt the pain too, as he felt the bruised tissue stretch around him, felt the sudden sharp jerk of need as Lex opened, and his body gave and let Clark in.
Clark took his fist away, and watched as Lex shuddered his way down his cock, until it was buried inside him. Completely.
Silence apart from their breathing. Lex swaying slightly, hips rocking back and forth as he absorbed pain and size and stretch. Clark stroked his face, feeling the shift of tension through fine skin. He traced eyes and nose and mouth, finger trailing along Lex's bitten lips, palm cupping across them, fitting like a glove. Skin on skin. Sealing Lex's breath in his body, feeling the catch in Lex's throat at the actual moment when he realised what Clark was going to do. Watching his eyes change, the moment when he knew. When panic was held at bay only by trust.
Count to thirty, then he let go. Graciously allowing a few breaths, then sliding his hand back. Making Lex work. Breathing now as a privilege rather than a right. Their eyes locked. Clark holding his breath too, unconsciously echoing the strain that widened Lex's eyes and made sweat trickle down his skin.
Breath. No breath.
A pattern that wove them together. As Lex's body struggled to cope, and his lungs foundered. As he squeezed Clark's cock tight in his embrace with every involuntary tightening of muscle.
"Lex, move..." Clark wasn't sure he could say any more. His body was scarcely in control, but he wanted this, needed Lex like this. Open and wanting. A hairsbreadth away from everything being too much. Pushing, pushing at boundaries and barriers, finding the space in the universe that was theirs and theirs alone. Clark groaned as Lex's thighs pushed, and Lex was fucking himself, stress and strain quivering deep in his body, in his bowed–back shoulders and in his face, his lost, ecstatic face that somehow was showing neither pain nor pleasure but something closer to bliss as Clark pushed his big hand tight to skin and once again stopped him breathing.
Suck of wet skin. Cock held so tight, sweet abrasion as Lex rode him. Fighting everything but the mental count of seconds. Minutes. Holding Lex's breath, holding Lex in the palm of his hand. Taking his life, keeping it safe, promising it as a gift.
Like by the river.
And he suddenly realised why this. Wet skin and breath silenced. Rock under his knees and the dead coming to life with breath that sucked at his own.
Suddenly Clark pulled his hand away. And rocked back into the pillows as Lex gasped, bent forward and shuddering. Chest expanding, ribs fighting to contain the air he sucked into his lungs.
All this from that moment. Wondering, Clark's hands stroked Lex's face. Thumbs kneading his cheeks, down to his throat, stroking, marking small bruises on the pale skin, as Lex's eyes lifted and met his. Wide black eyes, drugged and dazed, pretty as violets in winter. Giddy from oxygen deprivation. Flying as Clark fed his fingers into Lex's lips. He felt his cock swell as Lex licked him. Sucked him. Sucked and stoppered his own moans with the thickness of Clark's fingers.
After a moment he remembered to move. Hips awkwardly lifting, as if he was no longer capable of perfect motor–control. Jerky, ungainly movements. Clark ignored him and pushed up. Rewarded by a hiss of pleasure, of relief as even that responsibility was taken away. All Lex had to do was absorb each up–thrust. Rocking with the force of it. Biting down onto skin as Clark fucked him in both mouth and ass.
They walked a tightrope of need. Balance there, just. Then Clark lifted his other hand and, pinching Lex's nostrils, stole the air.
Statue still. Lex held. There. Shudders beginning deep in his body, slow struggles. Muscles in his body like anatomical diagrams. Sweat limning the arch of rib, of concave belly. Lex almost convulsing, a scream silent in his throat, the sound nothing more than vibration that burned through Clark's nerves. Screaming as his body lost itself, and his eyes rolled back. Clark pulled his hand away as Lex fell forward, catching him as he collapsed, spasming, cock spitting come between them, body jerking, taut against the straps, ass squeezing Clark until all he could do was hold Lex tight, and fuck erratically upwards into him as they both came.
Like the world switching off then switching on again. Lex a motionless sprawl, half–conscious over him, moaning softly, mouth open and wet, pressed to Clark's skin.
Heat cooling between them. Sticky. Clark lifted Lex up, lifted him off his softening cock, careless, uncaring of anything but Lex gasping as their bodies parted, as Clark laid him on the bed. He stripped off the condom, tossed it aside, then knelt by Lex. The straps at wrist and elbow took a moment to unfasten, his own hands ridiculously unsteady. The skin underneath was red, livid marks where the leather had cut into flesh. Clark winced, watching as Lex straightened his arms with a groan. The sound easing into a sigh as Clark massaged his shoulders, easing the strain with careful hands.
Holding him then. Wrapped together, kissing Lex's scalp, his face. Stroking skin and holding. Measuring recovery in soft words and almost silent names.
Finally quiet. Lex breathing normally. Mouth pressed to Clark's shoulder. Eyes closed, the fluttering of his eye–lids the only sign he was awake. Conscious. Clark slid one leg over and around one of Lex's. Their genitals cupped, moist and warm together.
Time reassessing itself.
Universe sliding back into focus.
Clark was almost startled when Lex spoke. "Wow." The single word was twisted out of shape.
"Yeah."
"That was..." He tried to sketch a shrug, gave in.
"Yeah, me too..."
"You're a genius. What made you think of that?"
"I read something, in one of your books. I thought I wanted you to trust me enough to do it. But now –" he kissed Lex again, a quick press of lips to skin, "– I think it's because I dragged you from the river. And because of everything I've lied about since."
The words were unplanned. Shocking. But spoken. Thrown into the world irretrievably.
"Clark..."
"I've lied about everything, Lex. You did hit me with the Porsche. I'm different. I can't be hurt. Not really, and I've been—"
"Shush, I know."
"—trying..." Blink. He had heard right. Hadn't he? "You know? Lex — how can you know?"
"Because I'm not stupid." Lex stirred, opened his eyes and smiled. "And you let someone take photos of you lifting the truck." He paused, considered. "Not that they exist anymore. Though it looked very impressive."
"Oh."
"Are you human?"
"No." Clark shook his head, feeling pole–axed.
"Didn't think so. It was a spaceship then, with the meteors?"
"Yes." Clark blinked. He was dreaming, maybe. "You aren't freaked?"
"I can believe ten impossible things before breakfast — if you hit me over the head enough times with evidence." He yawned. "Do you remember anything of before the crash?"
"Nothing before the Kents found me, took me in."
"Lucky you. Just think, it could have been Lionel."
"I'd be your brother then."
Lex lifted his head again. "And incest is meant to be an improvement on pederasty?"
"Guess not." Clark thought a while. Absent–mindedly he stroked Lex's smooth skin. "Do you mind that I'm different?"
"No. And I'm not selling you to the highest bidder either."
"Dad'll be pleased."
"Shocked more like it. If he believes me. Perhaps you should tell him I'm more likely to lock you up so I can have you just to myself. Though on second thoughts, I guess that wouldn't help much either."
"You think this is funny?"
"Why not?"
"Dunno." Clark stared up at the canopy above the bed and found he was smiling. "How long have you known?"
Shrug. "A few months."
"I've been so afraid to tell you. I thought you might think that all this... stuff... we do, is because I'm different."
Lex lifted his head. "That was stupid." Clear grey eyes, calm and serene. "Apart from the strength thing, you're more human than most people I've ever met."
"Oh. Thanks." Warm glow that was almost preposterous in its intensity. It was okay. Lex was cool with everything. Lex understood. Of course. Damn. He smiled again.
"Pleasure. Now shut up will you, I want to enjoy some post–coital bliss."
"Okay." Clark was quiet for about fifty heartbeats. "You found the asphyxiation thing a turn on?"
"No, Clark, I was humoring you..."
"Snarky."
"Shut the fuck up, Clark."
So he did, pulling the covers up over them. He even slept for a while, dozing peacefully with Lex in his arms. But mostly he was awake. Listening to Lex breathe, memorizing the feel of him. Maybe a half hour went by. Maybe longer, but after a while Lex stirred, and uncurling himself began to stretch.
He stopped. Held still, and slowly lowered himself back. "Fuck!"
"What?" Clark rested a hand on Lex's belly. Propped on one elbow he was all concern. "Tell me?"
"Shoulders. Ass. Fuck."
"We should have showered right away."
"Great. Thanks for the heads up."
"We can now?"
Lex groaned. "I don't think I work anymore. Someone wore me out."
"Yeah, that was me. And now I'm going to be cruel and heartless and drag you into the shower." Clark grinned down at Lex's indignant face. "Of course, I could always carry you..."
"Just you try it."
"Just offering."
Lex sat up. And kept very still until he managed to breathe again. "Okay. No more fucking my ass for at least the rest of the week."
"Did I hurt you?"
"Yeah." Wicked smile that teased Lex's lips up and warmed his eyes. "And it was amazing."
Clark shook his head. "Well that's okay then."
Lex sat straighter, and rolled his shoulders gingerly. Then he looked at Clark. "You don't really get this do you?"
"From my side, yeah, but yours? Kinda, no..."
"I'll demonstrate one day. Show you how good it can be."
"You mean tie me up?"
Lex considered. "Well, if I can of course. Is there anything that holds you?"
"Not that I've found." He felt unaccountably shy. And Lex wouldn't be able to damage him at all, not even slightly. And it was the pain he wasn't sure he understood. "You won't be able to hurt me though. Not like I hurt you."
"Shame. Though you might not like it of course. Not everyone can switch." Lex looked assessingly at Clark. "We could try a little role–play though. All you have to do then is obey me." Lex smiled lazily. "You could do that, couldn't you?"
Could he? The thrill that clenched the muscles in his belly seemed to say yes. Letting Lex play. He might even pick up some tips. "Yeah."
"One day. There's plenty of time." He bent sideways and kissed Clark, wincing only slightly, though he grinned, wrinkling his nose fastidiously. "Jesus, we stink."
Clark grinned back. "Better get clean then. That shower sounds better by the minute."
"Oh, the joys of clean living. Though you're still not carrying me."
Clark climbed off the bed and offered a hand to Lex, which was accepted. He pulled Lex up, and held him for a moment. A soft kiss and they went to share a shower.
The stall was big enough for two. Probably five if everyone was careful of their elbows, but for the two of them there was plenty of space. Hot water like a blessing. Clark watched Lex groaning as the water hit him, luxuriating as he turned in the spray. Clark kissed him then. A light touch of lips to lips, water steaming around them, rushing, splashing on their skin, on their feet. Lex wriggled away and found some soap. Offering it in both hands, though his grin spoiled the effect of bath–servant. Clark massaged Lex's shoulders. Touched him more than even their proximity demanded, as they cleaned themselves then stood close, silent as the water rinsed the soap away.
Stepping out onto tiles Lex pushed a huge, white bath towel at Clark, taking one for himself. Very slowly, gently, they dried each other. There was under–floor heating. Clark considered himself pampered, sighing as Lex dried his back and kissed his shoulder.
While Lex applied some sort of moisturiser to his face, Clark explored. He found a box, more like a mini filling cabinet, full of cosmetics. He turned to Lex, tapped the box. "Alexa?"
"Yes, in all her glory." Lex walked over and reached past him into a drawer, pulling out a slim gold tube and holding it up between his fingers. "This was the first lipstick I bought by myself. The woman in Bloomingdales was really very helpful."
"What does it feel like?"
"Buying it or wearing it?"
"Wearing it..."
"Want to try?"
"Sure." Clark was unaccountably breathless. He stood still as Lex opened the case, and by twisting the base made the lipstick pop up. Red. Very bright.
"I've gone for more subtle colors since, but if you want to make a statement, this is the one. Come here." Clark turned. Lex was right in front of him, towel wrapped around his waist, bare feet squarely on the tiled floor. "Just part your lips, not too far. Oh, and lick them first."
Clark licked. Feeling very slightly silly. Then he opened his mouth, and watched as Lex concentrated. The lipstick went on smoothly, and Lex frowned, his tongue caught between his teeth. He was so close. Clark could see every slight change of expression, every shift of tiny muscle. There were water droplets still on his scalp, and his lashes were damply stuck together. He looked happy. Relaxed, smiling as he finished.
"Beautiful."
Clark made a disbelieving sound. "Oh yeah."
"Look for yourself." He stepped back, and pulled Clark around so he faced the huge mirror. The glass was opaque in patches from the steam. He could still see himself though. And Lex, smiling hungrily. "See."
Clark saw. He looked different. Changed. Pretty, maybe. His eyes seemed more blue and his hair more black, in a strange, blurry image that was Clark and yet wasn't.
"Wait." Lex faced the mirror and, while Clark watched, deftly applied the same color to his own lips, the red a slash of brightness on his pale skin. A quick, daring smile, and he stood facing the vast mirror, next to Clark, so they were side by side. Boys with perfect, painted lips, shrouded in steam, framed by trickles of water meandering down the silvered glass.
Being something other. Pretty, very pretty.
"Lex, what does it feel like to kiss with this on?"
Smile. Lex almost humming under his breath. "Well..." He turned. "It's not very different, but..." Brilliant look at him, bright and full of something so perfectly happy that Clark almost shivered. "Stickier."
Clark giggled. "Stickier?"
"What did you expect?" Lex, close. Closer. Breathy voice. Daring in his eyes. "I didn't spike it with any drug. Just lipstick. Mon Rouge, if you want to know the name."
"Name?"
"All lipsticks have names, Clark. Like All Day Parallel Red, Firefly, Purple Storm, Venom. Someone gets paid a fortune to think them up."
"Wow." Clark licked his lips, tasting something akin to vanilla. Something like Alexa too. "Lex..."
"I know, shut up and kiss you..."
"Yeah..."
Warm and sticky, but somehow sensual; lips sliding together with perfect contact. Clark opened his mouth and sighed, licking Lex's lips, his teeth, licking against his tongue. Pressing into a kiss that was gentle and soft and strange. He closed his eyes and swayed into it, holding Lex's shoulders and kissing him with perfect attention. Detail and delicacy.
He backed away. Deep breath. Lex's mouth was smeared. The perfect shape spread across his skin. Clark turned him, so they both faced the mirror. Sex in their eyes and red blossoming around their mouths like blood.
Clark lifted his hand and touched his lips. Visceral thrill as he recognised the color. "Lex..."
"Like you've been drinking blood."
"You too."
Sudden shift in tension.
"Would you like to blood me, Clark?" Lex stared at him in reflection. "Mark me somehow."
"Yes." God, he could hardly speak. The image. The offer, stated so coolly in Lex's fuck–me voice. "I would."
"Another scar, maybe."
"Like this." Clark lifted his hand and touched Lex's mouth, smearing his thumb over the painted bow, feeling the scar as much as seeing it. "Who gave you this one?"
"My father."
Clark shivered. "What did he do?"
"Hit me. Forgot he was wearing his signet ring. I refused to have plastic surgery to cover it. I like to remember things." He touched his chest, just where the clavicle curved downwards, fingers brushing against where a narrow scar marred his skin. "This one too."
Clark touched it, Lex's fingers warm, the raised scar slightly roughened. "I want you to remember me."
"Clark." Hesitation like pain. "There is no doubt of that. You're not going anywhere. If you did I'd hunt you, you know that."
"Yes." And he did. The obsession went both ways. He knew Lex was as wound in him as he was in Lex. It was friendship, love, more. "I'm yours, Lex. I love you."
"Clark. God..." Lex shuddered. No other word for it. A whole body tremor that made him bite his lip. He straightened, his face like that of a man about to make an irrevocable step. "I love you, too, Clark."
Clark nodded. There. Done. A pact the devil himself would never be able to break.
Lex wiped his fingers over his mouth. Clark could see they were shaking very slightly.
"Lex..."
"I'm fine. Wait here." He went out of the room, though he was back almost at once. With a deep breath, he held his hand out to Clark. "Here, it's very sharp."
Metal cold in his hand. A wicked pocket knife. Slim and silver, the length of a pen, surprisingly heavy. Clark slowly peeled the blade open. It shone brightly, catching the light.
"Lex..."
"Now. Do it now. Mark me. Mark tonight on my skin."
Clark looked at him. "Yes." He swallowed. Glanced at the mirror, catching a glimpse of himself, wide–eyed, flash–fire aroused. Because of a knife in his hand. Because of Lex. "Where?"
"My arm. High up near the shoulder." He turned sideways. "There's alcohol and swabs in the cabinet."
There was. Clark cleaned the skin. Meticulously. Pale, fine–pored, smooth and warm under his hands. He glanced at Lex again. Smiled. Almost lost his nerve, but when Lex smiled in return he knew this was right.
He would have offered his whole body for Lex to mark, had he been able. Had his skin not been so perfectly invulnerable. "Lex, I can't reciprocate. I don't... cut, or scar."
"It doesn't matter. Unless you need this to be a two–way thing?"
"If I could, I would."
"So you understand?"
"Oh, yes."
"Then that's enough. Do it."
Clark held the blade up. The cutting edge was very fine. He kissed Lex, tasting the thread of anticipation that was speeding his heartbeat. That was making him shiver. What shape to make? Something simple. He hesitated, staring at skin, staring at the metal. Waiting. Breathing in time with Lex.
Then he pressed down.
It took a moment. The edge pressing inwards, pushing in before it cut. Then Lex's flesh flowed around metal and Clark heard the taut intake of breath as Lex felt it as well as saw. One long vertical incision. Three inches, cutting slowly. Blood welling from the cut before he had finished. Brighter than the lipstick. Much. Shocking, coppery smell. Blood trickling warm over his other hand where it held Lex's arm still.
Clark bent and kissed. Sucked. Taste like nothing else. Sweet and thick, still alive. Human. Straightening he looked at Lex. Watched him smile lazily. Lost already. Pain and belonging there on his face. Realisation heady as night–blooming flowers.
The second cut was easier to begin. Another line, shorter than the first, slicing horizontally. Slowly. Concentrating as the lines crossed and skin began to lift, to part, finishing though his hand was unsteady, biting his lip, yet careful to make the cross an elegant shape. Knowing he couldn't mark Lex with anything less than perfection.
Clark knew the shape was there under the blood. He licked it all away to be sure, and it was, though the blood flowed so fast he had to be quick. He licked his lips, and realised he was giddy. "Lex..." Blood dripping onto the tile floor. Spattering starbursts onto white as it trickled and dripped over Clark's hand then down and off Lex's elbow.
Swabs. Blinking, Clark reached for more. He broke open the packet and held the cotton to Lex's arm. It turned red almost at once. Soaking.
"I cut too deeply."
"No. Be patient." Lex shook his head, then almost unbalanced. Clark held him. Pressed his hand to the wound and held him up.
Another swathe of cotton discarded. A clean one pressed tight. Maybe this one soaked slightly less quickly. Clark watched, mesmerised as the white changed so radically to red. Red, seeping, wet red. Droplets and trickles oozing from under the swab to run downwards.
Lex shivered, and leant his head into Clark. Resting it there as Clark held his hand tight around Lex's arm.
After an age the blood stopped flowing.
Unsure, Clark relaxed his hand, opening his fingers. Dark, coagulated blood on his hand, arm, everywhere. So much blood from such small incisions. He lifted Lex's head. Straightened him, found Lex could stand. Found he was smiling dreamily. Clark lifted his hand and pressed it to Lex's lips. Closing his eyes as Lex licked slowly, suckling at fingers dipped in his own blood. Heady rush of pleasure. Clark moaned softly, his cock hard and ready. Bending his head he kissed the raw cuts, the cross he had drawn into Lex's arm. Licking softly, groaning like a madman as Lex gripped his cock and jerked him off. It took hardly anything and he gasped. Mouth wide around Lex and open skin, sweet blood sticky in his mouth he came. Almost painfully. Emotion racking up the intensity.
Still. Breathing. Lex in his arms.
He was crying again. Not sobbing. Just a blurring of his vision, damp on his face. He sniffed. Straightened.
Lex was there. Serious and intent. A finger stroking his face. Perfect Lex.
"Lex..." Muscles clenching as he realised what he'd done. Why he'd come so hard. "I — "
"You're beautiful, Clark. That was beautiful. Don't –" he shrugged and winced awkwardly. " — spoil it."
"No."
"We need another shower."
"You need stitches."
"No, I'll be fine. There's tape somewhere." He closed his eyes for a moment, head tilting back. There was blood as well as lipstick smeared around his mouth. Clark shivered. He looked very pale. Shadows under his eyes, the thin skin a shade of pale lavender.
"Shower."
"Yes."
Holding Lex. Walking into the water, touching, letting warmth slough all the blood away. A towel wiped the lipstick. Another as makeshift swab, Lex wincing when Clark cleaned his arm and the wound started to bleed again, though sluggishly. Stepping back onto tile, the water switched off. Clark applied another dressing, then with a clean towel dried Lex off, then himself.
He followed Lex into the bedroom, watching as he sat carefully on the edge of the bed, his right arm held in front of him, fingers keeping the dressing tight to the wound. Clark found a small medical kit in the cabinet by the bed. Another of pharmaceuticals, almost none of which he recognised apart from Tylenol and Excedrin. He put it all down on the bed by Lex, then knelt beside him.
"What do I do?"
"Give me two of the tablets in the blue bottle."
Clark popped the child–proof top and flicked the tablets onto his hand. There was water on the night–stand. He opened the bottle and held it out to Lex. "What are these?"
"Pain meds, that's all." Sudden tired grin. "I'm not up to anything else."
Clark nodded, watching as Lex swallowed. He took the bottle and rested it on the floor. "Now?"
"Tape me up."
He kissed Lex's arm, just below the dressing, then lifting the cotton with his fingers peeled it away very gently. The knife cuts were raw, angry. The flecks of blood ground into the skin beside the wound looked like dust. There were brighter stains from where he had sucked with lipstick stained lips.
"Should I clean it first?"
"Mm, the spray." There was saline. He sprayed it on, frowning in concentration as Lex gasped, stiffening, but holding still, his body taut as the wound was flushed through. Pink trickles on his arm. Clark mopped it all up, listening to Lex cursing.
"What now?"
Deep breath. Lex sweating again. "Tape. Then dressing, then bandage."
"Okay." Clark nodded. He could do this. Tape in pre–cut lengths. He pressed it across the cuts. Holding the skin together. It needed stitches, but this might hold. Clark was breathless with concentration by the time he was done. Skin taped tight. He laid on a dressing, then bandaged everything firmly into place. Lex was already slightly out of it. "Get into bed."
"Are you staying?"
Shit. What time was it? "No. I forgot to tell my parents I'd be late."
Lex groaned. "Clever."
"Sorry."
Lex looked down at him. Smiled unevenly. "Off you go then. Be good and don't frighten them too much."
Clark didn't want to leave though. Really didn't want to go when Lex was like this. "But..."
"I'm fine. I'll sleep like a baby and you can come back tomorrow morning and check on me."
"You sure?"
A look.
Clark sighed. "Okay." He stood up, and started to hunt for his clothes. Shorts, pants, boots. He pulled them on, socks he stuffed in a pocket. Cotton T and shirt. It took so little time to be dressed when you hurried.
"How did you do that?"
Clark grinned. "I was showing off."
Lex shook his head in wonder. "Wow, I could get so much done in a day."
"It sure helps around the farm."
"I can imagine your dad doesn't exactly complain." Lex stood up, clearly delighted when he made it and didn't fall over. "Grab a pair of sweat–pants for me. Second drawer."
Clark found them. Old and soft and washed out grey. He knelt and held them while Lex stepped into them. Pulled them up around his hips, kissing his cock once before it was tucked away. He stood then, held Lex lightly around the waist. "You going to bed now?"
"No." Very patient. "I'm going to say goodbye to you properly and wait for the drugs to work."
Though he was slightly slurring already. It could have been tiredness as much as medication. "How's your arm?"
"Sore. But it'll be fine."
"What did you take?"
"Something legal. More or less."
"Oh."
"Was that what you meant?"
"No. But it's nice to know. Come on. You'll get cold, where's a T–shirt?"
"Same drawer." Clark found one, and slipped it over Lex's head, very careful of his arm, of his aches. Lex smoothed it down with his hands, as if wiping his palms on the cream cotton.
They didn't say anything else as they walked through the house and down the long staircase. Lex flicked his hand over a bank of switches and the hall lights came on. After the dim lighting upstairs it was very bright.
Clark touched Lex's face, wincing as he saw the exhaustion clearly for the first time. "Are you really going to be alright?"
"Clark, yes."
"I just..." Rueful purse of his lips. "Worry about you."
Lex smiled, and shook his head sympathetically. "Well I'll be worrying about you if you don't go and make peace with your parents. So, go on — home." He cocked his head at the door. "And you get to undo the bolts."
Clark obliged, opening the door wide, turning as the cool night air swept inside. He stood close to Lex, held him lightly, hands curving gently around his shoulders. "Lex..."
"Shush. Off you go. Come back to me when you can."
Clark leaned in, kissed Lex's lips softly. Love as something warm, living, there shared between them. "Breakfast too soon?"
Smiling, he turned, and stepped over the threshold. He was still smiling when he lifted his gaze, and stared straight into his father's face.
"Dad!"
Fury. Disgust. Fear. Clark looked in his father's face and saw everything he had tried to avoid.
Jonathan curled his lip, staring at Lex as if he was the scum of the earth. "Clark, come home now."
"Listen, Dad, it's..."
"Be quiet, son. You're too young to understand."
"Don't be ridiculous! Dad—"
"Mr. Kent, don't be angry. Clark didn't know how to tell you. He didn't lie deliberately."
"That's exactly what he did."
"He didn't think you'd understand."
"That he's kissing and doing God knows what with another man? Damn right I don't. But you... coming around the farm every day, pretending to be so anxious about us, about Clark. All that talk of looking to his future, all those presents, like that damn truck! Jesus, you're a sick bastard."
Lex stared at his father. And just giggled.
Clark watched Lex try to control it, but the meds must have kicked in hard and fast, because he looked into Jonathan's face and laughed, shaking his head as if finding it all absurdly funny.
"Lex..." Clark made a move as if to warn him, but Jonathan was closer, and he moved first, grabbing Lex by the upper arms to shake him. "No!"
Too late. "Are you on something? Jesus..." But Lex was still smiling as Jonathan grabbed him, shouting now, so angry he didn't see the effect his grip had. He only stopped absolutely still when Lex groaned softly and shuddered once, collapsing in his grip as if unstrung.
Stunned, Jonathan held him as Clark rushed to put his hands under Lex's arms, to take him. "Let him go, Dad."
There was blood seeping through the fabric of Lex's shirt and running down his arm. Clark watched as his father realised it. Watched as he jerked his hand away as if burned. "What the — "
"Lex?"
Lex already stirring. Taking his own weight on his feet. He was bone–white, skull shape stark under taut skin. "Clark..."
"It's okay." Clark glared at his father.
"Son, I didn't know he was hurt." Jonathan was staring at them. At Clark holding Lex. Lifting his hand he stared at the blood coating his fingers, then back up.
"Mr. Kent, I'm sorry." Slurred words. Lex frowning, concentrating. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
"I'm not frightened." Reaction like Jonathan had been stung. But Clark could see the fear in his eyes. Fear that this was the moment he lost his son. Lost him to another man. A Luthor. "Clark, come home with me now."
The tone of voice he had always obeyed.
"Dad, please?"
"No. Come home now or I'll call the police and see what they think of underage sex and drugs. Maybe I'll call The Inquirer too."
"You wouldn't. Lex knows about me."
"What!"
"I told him today." Challenge, statement, security. His father couldn't do too much to Lex now. Not when Lex knew The Secret.
"You told him what! How could you be so..." Jonathan swallowed hard. "You think this means anything to him? He's rich, Clark, so rich he thinks he can buy any damn thing he pleases and that includes you. Well, I'm going home. And I'm going to call the police. You think they'll believe a word he says when he's high as a kite on drugs? No way."
Clark watched him turn. Watched him almost run to the truck.
"Dad?"
"Come home, Clark. I'm serious. Come and we can talk about this — as family." He paused, then got in and slammed the door closed, turned the ignition, almost stalling the engine before he got into gear and roared away in a slew of gravel.
"Fuck." Clark watched the tail–lights disappear. "I should have called them, told them I'd be home late."
"Maybe."
Clark turned to Lex. "I'm sorry."
"Work things out with your family, Clark. I'm not going anywhere. Except to bed."
Feeling as if he was being pulled apart, Clark nodded. Lex looked unnervingly pale. But he couldn't stay, couldn't let his father do anything that might hurt Lex even more. "I can't... I want to stay, but..."
"Go. Come back tomorrow. Don't risk anything."
"I won't. And I'll be back soon."
"I know."
"Lex, how did this get so complicated?"
"Life just is." Lex shrugged one–sided. He was nursing his right arm. Calm and collected and looking so very tired. "It fucks you over from time to time. Now go."
"Lex..."
"I know."
Clark kissed him. Softly, on the cheek, and went.
