Smallville: Bodyguard

[fajrdrako_fic]

Title: Bodyguard
Author: fajrdrako
Fandom: Smallville
Characters: Clark/Lex
Rating:
Disclaimer: Not mine, no claims, all property of Warner.
Notes: This story was written for the "Blow It With Feeling" challenge issued by Alison and Thamiris in January 2004. It is posted at the Smallville Slash Archives. My thanks to my beta reader, acampbell, whose valuable help was greatly appreciated.


Bodyguard

When Chloe and Clark were through working at the Torch it was pretty late, but Chloe had promised to drive Lana home from the Talon and Pete wanted some hot chocolate, so they went over there. When they arrived, Clark was glad they had. Lex was there.

It would have been rude to turn his back on Chloe and Pete, so Clark sat down with them, but Chloe said, "It's okay, Clark. We've seen enough of you today. Go talk to Lex!"

Pete muttered something in which the words "bald bastard" were dimly audible. Clark ignored it, and went to Lex's table. He felt the lift of the heart he always did on seeing Lex, as if something special were about to happen. He was always glad to see his other friends, but when he saw Lex, it was different. It was as if the lights went on everywhere.

He wondered sometimes if his friendship meant as much to Lex as it did to him, and sometimes thought so. At other times he just didn't know.

"I have something to show you," said Lex. He tossed an envelope onto the tabletop. Clark sat, and picked it up. Lex's name and address were typed; no return address. The cancellation on the stamp said it was mailed in Metropolis. Inside, was a note that said: "I'm going to kill you for what you did."

"Any idea who it is?" asked Clark. "Or what this person thinks you did?"

"None."

Clark looked at the blank back of the page. "It looks pretty anonymous."

"No fingerprints, either," said Lex regretfully.

"So someone is gunning for you."

"National pastime."

"Your security people are on it?"

"My security people are scared shitless. It isn't as if it hasn't happened before. They're afraid someone will be lucky this time."

Clark remembered running, trying to get to Lex before the bullet did. With Desiree. With Van. With Morgan Edge's assassin. He felt a rumble of suppressed anger. Lex didn't deserve this. Not again.

Lex said casually, "Would you like a part-time job?"

"What?"

"As my bodyguard. You're the only n I trust to save me, Clark. The professionals are all idiots. I can pay well."

"I don't need your money," said Clark automatically.

"No, but your parents need your help on the farm and even you can't be two places at once. Think about it."

Clark nodded. He knew his father would hate the idea, but he didn't trust the professionals to keep Lex safe, either. "Whether I'm on your payroll or not, I won't let anyone hurt you."

Lex's mouth twisted. "I know you mean it. I know you have other commitments."

He did, but what commitment could be more important than Lex's life? "Okay, I'll take the job. What's your schedule like?"

"Tomorrow? I'm at LuthorCorp till four. Then I have dinner with some men from Gotham, and a board meeting at seven. Should be back home by ten."

"I can meet you at four," said Clark.

"Skipping school?"

Clark shrugged. He wasn't about to explain how quickly he could run at superspeed to Metropolis, and he was getting faster all the time.

Lex leaned forward. He put his hand against Clark's cheek. "What will your parents say?"

"I can deal with my parents." Clark hoped it was true. "They understand priorities like life and death, Lex."

Lex's thumb ran gently along the side of Clark's jaw. "Even mine?"

"Anyone's." Lex had touched him like this before, in times of high emotion. Clark liked it. It felt good. It felt sexy, with the warmth of the hand and the smell of his skin. He wondered what Lex was thinking. It occurred to him rather belatedly that they weren't alone in the Talon, and he straightened quickly.

Lex's hand fell. "I should be going back."

"I'll go back with you."

Lex hesitated.

"Don't say no," said Clark. "I want to make sure you get home safely."

So he did, riding in the comfortable seat of one of the finest cars in the world. It was bulletproof - not much anyone could do to Lex while he was in it - but it reassured Clark to see Lex safe with his own eyes. Or maybe it was just that he wanted a few more minutes of Lex's company.

He thought about that, and the they way Lex had touched his cheek in the Talon. The intimacy of it shocked and excited him. He wanted Lex to do it again, now they were alone.

Lex didn't. He seemed to be lost in thought, which was natural enough, for someone afraid he'd be shot. They were almost at the Manor when he said, "I don't know if being in danger has made me think more clearly, or less. Thanks for taking the job, Clark. It means a lot."

"I don't want you hurt."

"See you tomorrow?"

"LuthorCorp. Your office. Four o'clock."

"Right."

Lex said, "I need you in more ways than you know." Then he was out of the car and gone, leaving Clark, his heart suddenly beating fast, to wonder what that meant. Lex had not touched Clark again, but Clark could feel his face burning where Lex's fingers had traced his skin.

He told his parents about his new part-time job over breakfast. He saw them exchange a glance that meant: "We'll argue about this later, when Clark isn't around."

Jonathan said, "Don't let your studies slip, son."

"Lex helps me study. It'll be okay."

"It will probably be a good learning experience," said Martha, non-committally, and gave Clark a reassuring smile.

At four o'clock, Clark was facing Lex's secretary. She smiled at him - she had a very nice smile, and looked more like a fashion model than the secretaries Clark was used to seeing in Smallville, who were generally pushing retirement. He watched her go to Lex's office door, her high heels tapping on the floor, her miniskirt managing to look provocative and businesslike at the same time. The effect, he assumed, of expensive tailoring. At a reply from Lex, which Clark heard but couldn't quite catch, she disappeared into the office.

Clark waited. He was wearing sunglasses because he thought it was a bodyguard-like sort of thing to do. He didn't have a suit, but he wore a his blazer with dark trousers, which would have to be good enough.

Lex came out of his office, looking tired, though his suit was impeccable and his tie perfectly straight. "C'mon, Clark." But he stopped in mid-stride to glance at Clark appreciatively, toe to head. Presumably the clothes met his approval. "I like the shades."

"Thanks."

They went into the corridor for the elevator. Clark pushed the button. Someone passing by said, "Good night, Mr. Luthor."

"Good night, Henry," said Lex.

Henry went into one of the offices. There was no one else around.

Lex put a hand against Clark's face again. He ran his fingers gently down Clark's neck, to the collar of his shirt, then over his shirt, down his chest.

Clark said nothing because he could think of nothing to say. His heart started to thump.

The elevator arrived. Lex dropped his hand. The door opened. Lex turned to it, his face betraying nothing. People got off. Lex got on. Clark followed, alert. Three people, all of them looking harmless and respectable, nodding and speaking to Lex. They didn't seem to notice Clark: presumably bodyguards were invisible. He tried to look tall and tough.

The dinner was boring. One of the men from Gotham looked like a gangster, which mean the probably wasn't one, while another looked like a clergyman, which probably meant he was a gangster. They talked about stocks, policy, collateral agreements and horse racing while Clark pretended he couldn't hear any of it. From time to time he wandered the restaurant, making sure there was no one and nothing that was a possible danger to Lex. X-ray vision helped. The suspicious shape in the pocket of the head waiter was a roll of peppermints, not a gun.

Lex seemed to know a lot about horse racing. Clark supposed he shouldn't be surprised: Lex knew a lot about everything.

After dinner, dessert. After dessert, coffee. After coffee, the board meeting back at LuthorCorp. Clark stood in the hallway outside, reviewing his math homework in his head. There was an exam in four days.

Lex came out of the meeting with a mug of coffee in his hand for Clark. He shut the door behind him, handing Clark the cup. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah." Clark took a sip of the coffee gratefully. It wasn't really the coffee he was glad to see, it was Lex himself. "How's the meeting?" He put the mug down on the receptionist's desk, which was currently unmanned.

"It'll be over soon." Lex looked abstracted. Across the reception area, an elevator opened. Someone got off, and walked down the hall the other way. Lex moved against a doorway, as if casually ducking out of sight. Clark supposed it wasn't a bad idea, but the building didn't seem full of marauding assassins. Not tonight.

Or maybe that wasn't why Lex had stepped into the doorway. His arm slipped around Clark's waist from behind, pulling him closer, embracing him from behind. His left hand ran up Clark's chest over his shirt, catching on buttons, moving up over his pecs, fingers coming to rest on a nipple. He rubbed it. Clark made a breathless sound.

Lex pinched it. This time Clark gasped. "Do you like this, Clark?"

"Yeah." His voice was hoarse. His body was held against Lex's, and he tried to think about that, but it was those dangerous fingers on his aching nipple that had all his attention. A twist; a caress; the application of carefully-orchestrated pressure. How did Lex know what to do?

"Good," said Lex. Abruptly he let go of Clark's hard nipple, and walked back through the meeting room door as if nothing had been happening.

Clark leaned his head against the wall for a moment. The feeling in his nipple didn't change. He wanted to touch it like Lex had, but suppose someone came out of the meeting, or the elevator?

Why was Lex doing this to him? Was it sex? Was it some sort of mind game? He was still puzzling at it when Lex came out of the meeting, but two of the men were with him and they talked all the way down in the elevator. Clark made sure his jacket was buttoned. He watched Lex in his peripheral vision, admiring Lex's calmness.

But there was no sniper outside the building. Lex dozed in the car, leaning against the door on the far side of the seat. Clark watched him with desire; with affection; wondering what was happening in Lex's self-sufficient mind. When the limo rolled safely inside the Luthor Manor gates, Lex said to the chauffeur, "Take Clark home, will you?"

"Don't you want me to come in? Make sure the place is okay?"

Lex shrugged. "You've had a long day. Go home, Clark."

So Clark did. He talked to his parents, and studied a little, and watched television for a while, and talked to Chloe on the phone about the Torch assignment that he had to refuse because he was busy with Lex. He let her yell at him for a few minutes, then said good night. He couldn't settle to anything.

In bed, he fingered his nipple, the one Lex had played with. It wasn't his own fingers that made his groin tingle and his cock harden, it was the memory of what Lex had done. So casually, ignoring it afterwards. Not that there had been opportunity to talk, but Lex could have made the opportunity.

His other nipple felt neglected and small. An imbalance he hoped Lex would fix, maybe tomorrow.

Was this sex?

What else could it be?

The next day, through all his classes, he couldn't help thinking about Lex. He thought he was good at hiding his preoccupation, but after English class Pete came up to him and said, "Earth to Clark. You were off in Never-Never-Land, space boy."

Clark shrugged. No point denying it. He'd had this sort of conversation with Pete before, when he was worrying about Lana or thinking about the problems that came with being the only Kryptonian in Smallville.

"Dreaming of Lana, huh?"

Clark colored. Pete took it as confirmation. Clark let him talk about some girl he knew, not really listening. He wanted to think about Lex and what Lex was doing to him, or what he wanted to do with Lex. Pete said, "Clark? You really are on some far planet. Krypton, maybe."

Clark rolled his eyes, making sure no one was in earshot. "You studied for math yet?"

The day lasted forever. When his last class was over at three-thirty, he changed into his bodyguarding clothes and put on the sunglasses. Pete thought the look was great, even though the job was with Lex. "Man, oh man, you look like someone out of 'Men in Black'. Kevin Costner with Whitney Houston - he had it better than you, with Lex's old white ass to guard. And don't look at me like that, I'm not insulting him, I know he's your bud, but you've gotta agree Whitney Houston's easier on the eyes."

Clark had no answer for that. They went down the steps. Clark intended to walk down the street and around the corner and then run to LuthorCorp, but Lex was right there with a new Porsche, leaning against it. "Making myself scarce," mumbled Pete. "See you, Clark."

Clark went over to Lex. "Isn't this dangerous? You wandering about on your own?"

"Thought I'd pick you up. We're going to the Town Hall. The Mayor is holding a reception."

If Clark had thought dinner with businessmen from Gotham was dull, he learned that a reception with the Mayor of Smallville was worse. There were speeches. There were people there he knew - some aspiring politicians themselves, others with an interest in the future of the town. People told jokes that weren't very funny, but at least there was punch with rum in it. Clark didn't think punch would affect him, but he avoided it anyway.

He stood in the shadow of a potted plant as tall as he was. Lex, suddenly, was beside him. "See any miscreants?"

"Only Mrs. Brubaker, who's eating too many cream puffs."

Lex moved closer. "That's between her and her dietician." He ran his hand over Clark's chest, slowly. Could anyone see them? Probably not. Not unless they walked around behind the tree to the back corner of the room, and there was no one there now. But the two of them lurking together here might catch someone's attention just because it was odd.

Then Lex's fingers were on his nipple again and Clark suddenly forgot about the rest of the room. It was the other nipple, and just as before, it ached and swelled and strained against his shirt under Lex's fingers. Only this time Lex was looking at him, with a carefully guarded expression, his eyes watching Clark's face, then straying to his chest, and, pointedly, to his crotch. Clark whispered, "Lex?" and Lex raised an eyebrow. He trailed a finger from his right hand down Clark's chest, and rested it on his belt buckle.

"Yes?"

Clark didn't - couldn't - speak. He didn't even know what to say.

Lex, seldom at a loss for words, said, "You want more?"

"Please," whispered Clark.

Lex dropped his hand abruptly. "Not here." He turned away, went back to the reception, leaving Clark breathing too deeply and too fast.

Clark could no longer fantasize about Lana or anyone else except Lex. Making himself come with his hands in the dark privacy of his bed didn't take away the thoughts, or the persistent sense of need. He slept badly, dreaming of making out with Lex, and woke hard again at two in the morning.

He wanted to phone Lex. He wanted to make sure Lex was okay. He wanted to ask: "Why were you touching me? What do you want?"

This was Lex, who would tell him what he was ready to tell him when he was ready to tell it.

This was Lex, whom everyone had warned him about. Except the problem wasn't that Lex was coming on to him, not really, it was that Lex was coming on to him and he liked it way too much. Which, if it wasn't a problem for him, shouldn't be a problem for anyone else. It was none of their business.

Except his father and his mother, who always worried. Not just about Lex. About the discovery of his secret, and the harm the meteor rocks might do to him, and what his future held. If they knew how he felt about what Lex was doing to him, they'd worry even more.

He puzzled over what Lex had said. "You want more? Not here." When, then? Where?

Not Thursday. Lex had errands and drove too fast in the Ferrari, playing his music too loud and beating his hand against the dashboard with the rhythm. He wore dark glasses and claimed he was copying Clark. He made Clark laugh with some jokes from the Internet and some that were going around Metropolis and some he made up himself.

Lex didn't touch him. It was like before.

And Clark, much as he particularly enjoyed Lex's company when Lex was in a good mood, felt oddly cheated. He wanted to be touched. He wanted Lex to want him. He wanted Lex to do or say something that would give him an opening to ask what Lex wanted and then the could offer to give it to him.

Nothing. And he lay in bed that night wishing he'd found a way to say what was on his mind, wishing he knew what Lex wanted, wishing the path were more clear. If Lex wanted more, if they both wanted more, could he still keep his secret from Lex? If they got closer, if they started fucking - he squirmed in his sheets at the thought, and clenched his hands on the headboard - if they were lovers, what then? The millionaire and the alien? The sophisticate and the farm boy? What could they make of it?

Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Lex, having played with him a little, had had enough, and that would be that.

He wasn't sure he could bear it.

Friday was the night Clark came over to hang out with Lex. They usually watched movies, or played pool, or argued over what the Sharks were doing - but Clark always figured Lex was humoring him when they talked about football, just as he was humoring Lex when they talked about Warrior Angel. Sometimes they talked about science or history, and then Lex got excited because this was what he really cared about. With other people Lex could hide his excitement, because he never wanted people to know his weaknesses, and that included anything that really mattered to him. With Clark, he couldn't help letting it show. Clark hoped that showed Lex trusted him. And Clark always listened to him intently at times like that because Lex was fascinating on these subjects, with a passion and insight that Clark couldn't help admiring.

Sometimes it didn't work out. Sometimes Lex had to work on a Friday night, or go to some social function, and Clark was always disappointed when this happened. This week, it was the opening of another exhibit at the Metropolis Museum, and Clark got to come along.

Clark didn't mind. He liked museums, as long as Phelan wasn't around to bother anyone. "It isn't Greek this time," Lex warned him. "It's Civil War weaponry."

"Cool," said Clark.

It was, with Lex showing him around and explaining the history behind the exhibits. Clark followed him attentively, checking out each room with his x-ray vision before they got there, alert to unexpected movements. But it was a staid crowd, who seemed more interested in talking about stocks, gossip and football than the Civil War.

Lex hadn't touched him in two days, and showed no sign of touching him now.

Clark wondered if he could do something about that. He paused in an alcove, around the corner and down the hall from the main room. Across from them was nothing but a mannikin displaying a uniform and a gun. "Lex!" he said.

Lex turned in mid-sentence.

Clark swallowed. This was harder than he thought. "The day before yesterday. You asked me if I wanted more."

"I remember." Lex came closer, his face unreadable again.

"Well, I do."

"It wasn't the right place or the right time. Neither is this."

Clark tried not to lose his temper. "It doesn't matter. I'm tired of waiting."

"I see." Lex looked as if he were contemplating a mathematical problem; the handling of an awkward business deal; the composition of a piece of art. "What were you thinking of, Clark?"

"I want you to do what you did before," said Clark. His voice was so low Lex had to move closer to hear him, so they were almost touching. This was good, but 'almost' wasn't good enough.

"You'll have to be more specific. What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Touch me."

"Where?"

"You know."

"Tell me."

Clark said, "You touched my nipples." His voice sounded too low. He swallowed.

"Like this?" This time it was both hands at once, on both nipples, and Clark felt a surge of excitement. Lex's mouth curved a little as the nipples hardened and grew, and his fingers showed no mercy. Clark shivered and rolled his head back. There was no one nearby.

Lex moved closer, holding Clark closer now, dropping his hands to run them over Clark's hips and around to his buttocks, pushing their bodies closer. He dropped his head so he could reach one hard nipple with his mouth, and toyed with it with his teeth through the cloth of Clark's shirt.

Clark whimpered softly.

Still nibbling, Lex pulled Clark's shirt up and ran a hand up his chest, smooth over the skin till it found the other nipple, still aching, still hard. The fingers prodded, skin on skin; and pulled, and scratched.

Clark ran his hand over Lex's head as his mouth creatively tormented its nipple. "Dear God," he whispered.

"More?" said Lex, his mouth against the shirt, his fingers roving underneath it.

"Yes!"

"What, Clark? What do you want? Tell me."

"Touch me again."

Instead, Lex backed off, inches from Clark, touching nothing. Nothing in his face betrayed what a tease he was "More? Where?"

"Anywhere."

"Be specific. Tell me where, and I'll do it." The light in Lex's eyes was both calculating and mischievous.

"Touch my cock." Clark blushed, but managed to say it without stammering. Lex pursed his lips thoughtfully. Then Lex reached down and touched, not his cock, but his belt.

He could do it without fumbling. With quick efficiency he had Clark's fly unzipped in seconds. His left hand slipped inside Clark's shorts, making him gasp. He had expected a touch through his trousers - that would have been mind-blowing enough. Instead he got the direct flick of a thumb over the head, the warm curl of fingers around the shaft, skin on skin, so he thought he was going to come. He thought he was going to fall onto the floor as his knees weakened. He thought he was going to groan loud enough to bring a crowd.

None of that happened. Lex removed his hand and zipped the trousers up again, leaving a considerable bulge. "Think pure thoughts. It's time to face the public again."

"Later?" said Clark, surprised he could even form a coherent word.

Lex shrugged. "Maybe." And he disappeared back along the corridor.

They went back to Smallville in the limo, but Lionel was in the car with them, accompanying Lex back to the Manor, sitting beside Lex on the seat where Clark had been on the way to Metropolis. Clark sat in the front seat with the chauffeur, whose name was Mike. Mike came from Edge City. Mike was a friendly guy; he'd been working for the Luthors for four years, mostly in Metropolis. In half an hour Clark knew most of Mike's life story, and his wife's as well.

Clark found it difficult to keep up his side of the conversation. His mind kept wandering, distracted by his body. Distracted by memory. Distracted by arousal. Distracted by the thought of Lex, separated from him only by a partition.

At least sitting in the front was easier than sitting in the back with Lex, and being unable to touch or talk. Anything was better than sitting in a small confined space with Lionel Luthor.

At Lionel's orders, they dropped Clark at the Kent Farm before going to Luthor Manor. So much for "later", at least tonight.

On Saturday, Lex worked all day, mostly at the Manor, but Clark was able to hang around with him because chores and homework were done At breakfast, Jonathan had complained that Clark should be doing more around the farm, and Clark had replied that he'd already done a day's worth of chores before breakfast, and someone had to watch Lex. Jonathan answered that there was always trouble wherever a Luthor was, and protecting Lex from trouble was like trying to drain the ocean with a thimble. Martha tried to make peace by pointing out that the current trouble wouldn't last forever, and if anyone tried to hurt Lex, Clark would catch him, and it would all be over.

Jonathan grunted. Clark sulked over the rest of his pancakes, and then raced off to Luthor Manor.

He'd hoped for time alone with Lex, but it wasn't so easy. Lex was working on architectural plans with an engineer who had flown in from Madrid. Then he had business with a biologist from Miami, and what that was about Clark had no idea, except that they seemed to be arguing. Then there was a teleconference with stockholders, and another teleconference with a bunch of accountants, while Clark lounged in one of the leather-bound chairs, his leg over the arm, reading a book called "Alexander and Darius: The Crossroads of Time". It seemed to have been read several times before, and one page was turned over as if Lex meant to refer to it again.

He suddenly realized there was a silence and looked up. The teleconference was over.

Lex was looking at him. There was no reading his expression but that in itself was a clue. Lex's eyes raised from his crotch to his face and Lex said mildly, "Are you doing that on purpose?"

"What?"

Lex gestured vaguely. "Eroding my resistance."

"I thought you'd forgotten I was here."

"Christ, Clark! I'd have to be blind. Yeah, I noticed you. You thought I wouldn't?"

Clark stood up. "I want to know what you want."

Lex glanced at his watch. "Lunch. Before the next conference in twelve and a half minutes."

"Good. We have half a minute to ourselves."

"And your cock wants to be touched?" Lex stretched back in his chair, a self-satisfied gleam in his eye. "Come here, then."

Clark walked over to him, feeling his blood pounding heavily. "Do you want to?"

Lex's eyes were heavy-lidded. He sometimes looked like that when he was hiding something. "Do I want to touch you? That's a little disingenuous even for you, Clark. You must know what you look like. You've been posing all morning." He reached an arm around Clark's waist, pulling him closer, unfastening the belt with the same ease as before. This time, instead of reaching into Clark's pants, he jerked the waistband down, so Clark was exposed from waist to thigh, his shirt falling over his belly, his cock sticking up and swelling further under Lex's gaze.

Staring at the sight, Lex touched him with the delicate skill of a surgeon. Both hands worked in a rhythm that was not a rhythm, like jazz quickly played. The back of his fingernail played with the slit; the long, strong fingers teased the foreskin; the powerful palm fondled his balls. It needed no more than that. Clark climaxed suddenly and fast, and Lex caught the come in his hands and rubbed it over the hot shaft in warm strokes.

Clark swallowed. "Wow."

Lex looked up, meeting his eyes. "Beautiful," he said. "You are so beautiful."

Clark bent over to kiss his mouth, but Lex turned his head away. "Clark. I am expecting Erikson in exactly one minute."

Feeling a dozen things at once, Clark zipped up his trousers and tried to recover his composure. "What's wrong, Lex? You aren't treating me like a friend. Stop shutting me out."

Lex looked amused. "I just gave you a magnificent hand job and you're angry?"

"I'm puzzled, Lex. I don't know what you want."

There was a tap on the door, followed by the entrance of a man who must be Patterson. "Mr. Luthor? I have the figures you were asking for."

Lex was avoiding him. Not physically, not exactly, but personal conversation was impossible. He knew Lex was workaholic but he was carrying it to extremes.

Clark wanted... more.

He took a chance during a brief lull when one employee had gone to take a phone call and the other was getting a file from the next room. The chance for two minutes of conversation, max, and even that with Lex's unspoken resistance. "Lex. You want me around?"

"Yes. Of course."

"And not just to keep you alive if there's a killer gunning for you, right?"

Lex's mouth twisted. "I like your company."

"And you like my body?"

"Obviously."

"Why did you touch me, that first time?"

Lex licked his lips. "An irresistible urge met an immovable impulse. Because I wanted to."

"But you don't want me to kiss you?"

Lex dropped his eyes and didn't answer.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

A quick intake of breath from Lex, then. "No. Clark.... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you ideas. We've gone far enough."

"No, we haven't," said Clark. "Tell me you don't still want me."

"Clark."

"Say it!"

Lex glared and said nothing. The door opened. "As I was saying, Mr. Luthor, the new figures prove...."

Clark retreated to his chair, not sure whether he'd proved his point, or not. Fearing that in pressuring Lex to come closer he had driven him further away.

He didn't sleep well that night, either. He wanted Lex. He wanted Lex to touch him, hold him, lick him, suck him off, fuck him, talk to him. He wanted Lex to want him.

He felt trapped in a state of arousal that wouldn't end until he was in Lex's bed and his life.

Sunday morning. After his morning shower, dressed in jeans and T-shirt, Clark walked up to his room in the barn and found Lex standing at the window, looking out on the dark sky to the west as the sun rose in the east. There were stars still, glittering against the pull of morning.

Clark said, "Lex? Isn't this dangerous?" and then, as Lex turned, recognized the double meaning of the question. He stood with the length of the room between them. "What do you want?"

Lex looked as if he hadn't slept. "The fear of death does wonders for focusing the mind. I groped you because I was trying to reassure myself I was alive. Does that make sense?"

"Your psychiatrist might think so," said Clark.

Lex gave a dry laugh. "I am trying to apologize, not something a Luthor is good at. I led you on, and that's no way to treat a friend."

Clark felt as if he had suddenly lost something. His equilibrium, perhaps. "Are you saying you don't want to do anything more with me?"

"I'm saying we are friends, as we always were. The messing around was - unfortunate. I was taking out my frustrations on the nearest person, who happened to be you. I'm sorry." It sounded as if he had rehearsed his speech, and lost his notes at the last minute. His eyes looked haunted.

"You wish it hadn't happened?" Clark prayed, with every ounce of Kryptonian will, that Lex wouldn't say yes.

"Of course," said Lex. "It was inexcusable."

"Oh." Clark's voice sounded as if it came from the bottom of a very deep, narrow well. He had never heard Lex sound prim before. It rang false, but he didn't know how to find the truths behind the falsehood.

"Can we be friends again?"

Clark swallowed. "We always were."

He could hardly hear his own voice, but it must have been clear enough to Lex, who said, "Good. I have a meeting in Metropolis this morning. Are you ready?"

Clark put on his dark glasses and picked up his denim jacket. "Any time."

He found he had nothing more to say. His throat ached as they got into the car. Lex talked. Clark answered in monosyllables, hardly able to pay attention, not bothering to pretend. After a while, Lex lapsed into silence.

It was a dismal ride to Metropolis.

The thing was, thought Clark, it didn't make any difference now. It didn't matter whether Lex wanted him or not: something had changed in Clark's body, in his mind, and he couldn't stop wanting Lex. He could go for a lifetime and he would always want Lex. He always had wanted Lex, somehow, subconsciously and then consciously. He'd first seen Lex when he was hardly more than a baby and Lex was nine: he remembered the moment, remembered the sense that they belonged together, though he wouldn't have been able to express it then.

Later it was Lex's mouth against his on the riverbank that had rekindled the bond. Or the gift of the truck, or the sight of Lex fencing, or Lex running his hand over his scalp as he glanced ruefully in his mirror. Any number of moments, spread out in time like pearls on a string, each moment making his need for Lex greater.

He'd wondered at first if it was sex. Now he knew it was, but it was more than that, too.

Clark was in love with a damned liar and he didn't know what to do about it.

They were crossing President's Avenue in Metropolis when Clark saw the would-be-killer and his gun. First came the moment of recognition as he saw his face. Second, the moment of realization as he saw the gun, and the desperate determination on the boy's face. Clark thrust Lex behind him, and deflected the bullet with his arm, knocking it harmlessly to the ground, making it look as if the gunman had simply missed.

The second shot did miss entirely. Clark ran after the killer, needing only the slightest superspeed to overtake him. He took the gun out of his hand, holding him by the shoulder. "Jeff Palmer," he said. "Haven't you given up yet?"

Jeff looked angry and defiant and defeated all at once. "He fucked my sister," said Jeff, and spat in Lex's direction as Lex came up beside them.

"I didn't," said Lex, indignant at the accusation.

"Just because you're rich, you think you own everyone! It isn't true!"

Lex turned away, looking weary.

Hours later, back at the Manor, they were able to discuss it. "He got out on day passes," said Clark. "It didn't give him much chance to come after you, but he did what he could. They don't know where he got the gun - organized crime, maybe. They have him under better security now."

"Full marks for persistence," said Lex. He was sitting in the oversize chair by the fireplace in his office, staring at a glass of brandy in his hands. "You know, with all the sins I've committed, you'd think someone would come after me for something I'm guilty of, not something where I'm innocent. Poor Amy."

"Love and hate," said Clark. "They're confused kids."

"You saved my life again."

"Are you going to try to give me another truck?"

Lex's raised his eyes suddenly. "Is that what you want?"

Clark grinned at him. "My father'd have a fit. No. That isn't what I want."

The guarded expression was back. "What do you want?"

It was what he had said in the museum. Be specific. "A little honesty, which you haven't given me for a while. You're a coward, Lex Luthor."

"Why?"

"You want something but you don't go for it. You want someone but you're afraid to let them touch you. You tease but you offer as little as possible in return."

Lex looked again at his hands. "I offered as much as I dared."

"Why? Because your father has convinced you it's dangerous to love? That you should use people but not care about them? You don't believe that." Clark moved closer. "Tell me now, honestly, that you don't want me."

"I've always wanted your friendship -" It sounded as sterile as his empty words in the barn.

"Not friendship," said Clark flatly. "We're being honest, now." He bent down and lifted Lex's chin, kissing his mouth, tasting his surprise. Lex didn't try to move his head away, but his kiss was passive. Clark ran his hands down Lex's chest, over his shirt, the way Lex had done to him in the LuthorCorp hallway. He found Lex's belt and, releasing him from the kiss, used both hands to unfasten the buckle.

Lex said, "Clark? What are you doing?"

Clark didn't answer. He knelt on the floor between Lex's knees. The belt opened and Clark pulled open his fly, pulled down his pants, threw them with Lex's shoes halfway across the room. Before Lex could move or speak, Clark took his cock in his mouth and sucked.

He had never done this before. He felt clumsy and awkward, but he also felt Lex's erection growing in his mouth, and that gave him a surge of triumph. Confident, he swirled his tongue over the skin, tasting the salty tip, feeling Lex's balls on his chin and his belly against his nose.

Lex gasped.

Clark ran his hands down Lex's thighs, and up again. Lex moved a little, as if restless or impatient, but the groan from deep in his throat was equal parts pleasure and agony. The bulk of his cock felt hot and foreign in Clark's throat. It also felt magnificent. Clark's own erection was starting to interfere with his concentration, but he ignored it, concentrating on Lex.

Lex came with a gasp, shuddering. Clark tasted his come and swallowed it. Yes, this was what he wanted. This and more. He had made Lex climax. He grinned. It felt like the biggest accomplishment in the world.

He raised his head. Lex's eyes were soft. Clark caressed his knee, enjoying its smoothness. "Lex? Was that so bad?"

"No."

"Was it... inexcusable?"

That raised a smile. "Probably."

"Don't be afraid of feeling things," said Clark. "Stop being afraid of love."

There was a pause. Clark thought his heart stopped, waiting for Lex to answer.

"Shit. When you say more, you sure mean 'more', don't you?"

"I want more," said Clark. "I want you to fuck me and tease me and play with my nipples and my cock and my ass and anything else you want to touch. I want you to kiss me and hold me and take me to bed. I want to lick every inch of your body. I want to fuck you, too, and make you make that little gasping noise like you just made, that's just for me."

Lex played with a lock of Clark's hair. "I don't deserve you."

"Tough. I think you're stuck with me."

There was a long pause. Clark ran his lips along Lex's thigh, and decided he liked kissing him there, and did it again.

Lex spoke so softly that Clark could hardly hear. "I think I can live with it."

Clark's breath came out like a sigh, like a distant wind. He felt Lex's hand in his hair as he added, "Forever."