Category: Clark/Lex slash, humor/parody, action/adventure, smut.  Multitasking!
Rating: NC-17 for Coyohumor and m/m sex.  Eventually.
Disclaimer: I am, I am, I am just a fan / And I know they're WB's / I am, I am, I am just a fan / I guess you know what that means / If they changed their hour a million times / I'd track them down, now / Believe me when I say I know / The copyright's not mine...
Spoilers: Mild ones for some early stuff, but takes place at no time in particular.
Notes: For the CLFF challenge.
Feedback: ciceqi@www.slashcity.com
Challenge: Clark and Lex finally tell each other how they feel, but the first time they act upon their feelings, they're interrupted (just like Clark on the show gets interrupted all the time with Lana and Chloe).  The second time is the same and the third and so on and so on.  Lex gets impatient.  What does he do to keep Clark in his bed? (kira-nerys)
Thanks: to Jonah and Orithain for the betas!
Warnings: Nookie interruptus, sexually frustrated Luthors, frogs.
Summary: Sometimes patience is not a virtue.

Maybe it was the ability to make the jump into warp speeds that sometimes slowed the world down to a crawl.  It was like those fight scenes from The Matrix where things that were really happening in the blink of an eye downshifted into syrupy non-time, where every little detail took on immense importance.  Things like bullets gliding dreamily towards your head, or knives arcing for your heart--

Or Lex Luthor bending over to kiss you for no reason whatsoever beyond the fact that he apparently wanted to.  Slow and effortless, and maybe the comparison to knives and bullets wasn't really fair, but it had that kind of inevitability.  The seconds dripped like honey as he watched Lex lean closer, both the man's hands braced on the couch arm as he stood just out of reach, and Clark had all the time in the world to shift away, but he didn't.

He couldn't.  He was too busy watching Lex's eyes go dreamy and half-close, the smirk fading and becoming something softer, something just for him.  Maybe it was uncertainty that had kept Lex on his feet, standing beside the couch and not quite in Clark's personal space, but if Lex wouldn't touch him--white-knuckled hands fisting on ebony plush--Clark would have to make up Lex's mind for him.

Drifting in eternity, he felt the warmth of Lex's lips brush his own, velvet softness followed by a wet tease of tongue when Clark didn't pull back--when Clark reached for the other man and wrapped his hand carefully around Lex's nape, fingers sliding over the smooth vulnerability of the pale, bare skull.  It was better than superspeed--superslow, time enough to experience every nuance of this one perfect moment.  The way Lex shivered under his hand as Clark's palm crept up to cradle Lex's head, the way the other man leaned into the kiss all at once, relaxing entirely as Clark's lips parted to welcome him inside.  Touch, taste, the pure scent of him--something elegant and expensive and Lex, pure human musk of skin and need beneath the rest.  It was the most incredible thing he'd ever experienced in his life.

"Clark!  Cla--would you please?  I'm a friend of Clark's, let me--Clark!"

All at once, time speeded up again, maybe a little too fast, as if to make up for indulging him before.  It was almost funny the way both their eyes flashed open before they quite got their bodies sorted out, mouths locked and hands gripping anything convenient.  Like a pair of high school kids, but at least Clark had an excuse.

"Chloe?" Clark called without thinking, wincing as Lex straightened and smoothed a calm hand down the front of his shirt and over his head, like Clark might have left sticky fingerprints behind.

"In here, Miss Sullivan," Lex added a heartbeat later, but neither of them looked towards the door.  Staring up at Lex--a perfectly in control and eerily masked Lex--all Clark could think of was how incredibly right the feel of the man under his fingertips had been, and he hoped desperately that he was going to get another chance to explore that further.

"Clark--"

"Lex--"

Lex's smile quirked immediately, and it wasn't the defensive grin he gave people when he was trying to distract them or the polite smirk meant to convey the exact opposite of anything he said.  It was the real one, honest and relaxed, and Clark found himself beaming up with pathetic relief to see it.  "Later," Lex sighed, just as the door to the library burst open on an unhappy Chloe and a sputtering servant.

"Clark!  I think you'd better get home," she began, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.  "You're not going to believe this one..."

It was bad.  It was so incredibly bad, on so many levels, that Lex didn't know whether to call in the cavalry or to double over laughing until his knees gave out.

Maybe if he hadn't been interrupted in the middle of the sweetest, most desperately sought-after kiss of his life, the choice might have been a little clearer...

Standing beside the new Porsche--gingerly, and with one eye fixed warily on the ground in case one of the few survivors decided to make a crawl for his shoes--Lex surveyed the disaster that was Kent Farm and was glad he'd offered to drive.  Not that he didn't suspect that Clark could have gotten here ten times faster on his own, but moral support was good.  This...this was going to need a lot of it.

"Tell me I'm not seeing this," Clark breathed in stunned horror, staring wide-eyed at the ground, the roof, Jonathan Kent's already-battered pickup, and Lex really didn't want to consider what his own car would have looked like if he'd been visiting Clark instead.  Somehow, he suspected his insurance hadn't quite had this in mind under the 'act of god' header...

"Well...do you want the comforting lie or the sad truth?" Lex asked, clearing his throat as the completely inappropriate laughter bubbled up again.  It really wasn't funny--the smell alone precluded any hint of humor at this point--but it was so totally Smallville, he just couldn't help it.

"Frogs," Clark said, his mouth twitching as he swallowed, hard.  "Someone drowned us in frogs."

Everywhere you looked, the ground was littered with broken bodies, smashed and senseless and split open when they landed and didn't bounce.  The truck was as dented as if it had been left out in a hailstorm, but it was the sheer scope of the thing as much as the strangeness that made it so hard to believe.  There must be thousands of frogs peppering the ground from the driveway to the fields, a warty, reeking carpet of destruction.  The mutant of the week had been reading way too much Stephen King.

"Actually, it was a rain of frogs," Chloe put in helpfully.  "I was coming over to talk to you about all the weird weather we've been having lately and caught the tail-end of it."  Perched on the hood of her car, she sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, her camera dangling from one hand.  Driving more cautiously than Lex had given her credit for, she'd arrived nearly five minutes after them, but she hadn't missed much.  Clark still hadn't moved away from the car, staring at the mess with the wide, wounded eyes of a boy told he couldn't go outside until he cleaned his room.

Clean-up.  Lex really didn't want to think about that, but...  //Ick.//

"A rain of frogs..." Clark repeated, shaking his head.

"Well, yeah...  See, I did some research, and 'rains' of unusual things like frogs, for instance, or fish--well, they're actually caused by tornadoes.  Small, local ones, usually, but--anyway, a funnel cloud touches down in a swamp or on a creek, sucks up a bunch of frogs or whatever, and flings them for miles.  Hours later, you get a rain of Biblical proportions.

"Like--you remember last week, when it rained crayfish in the middle of football practice, and Whitney got, um, nipped?"  Lex's sudden, choking attack of the coughs went completely unnoticed by Clark, but Chloe's eyes slid his way with an arch grin, her smirk there and gone in an instant.  "And the time it rained mud when the Beanery tried to set up sidewalk tables?  And no one ever did figure out how all those water moccasins got into Trevor's pool, right after a heavy windstorm--and right after he tried to put the moves on Lana Lang."

"Uh-huh."  Clark was still shaking his head, his eyes glazing a little as the sun came out from behind dwindling grey clouds and started to bake the ground and its unusual...fertilizer.

"Well, Carl Murphy has been spending practically every weekend out at Tucker's Creek since we were five.  And I just happened to swing by there today, and guess what I found..."

"My money would be on meteor rocks," Lex offered when Clark remained silent.

"Bingo.  Carl's been following Lana around like a lovesick puppy lately, and it seems like everything that's been happening has had something to do with her, like turning the Beanery into a mud wrestling pit or making things...let's say 'difficult' between her and her boyfriend.  And you know how friendly she and Clark have been getting lately..."

No, actually, he did not.  Not on the level Chloe seemed to be implying, and that cured him of the urge to laugh entirely.  Clark and Lana...it was one thing when he was trying to be noble and give Clark a gift his friend couldn't possibly refuse, like the girl of his dreams--it was another when he'd chucked nobility out the window and had finally taken what he'd wanted for himself all along.  Finally, and he didn't even know why he'd done it, and they hadn't exactly talked about it, so he didn't really have the right to be jealous, all things considered.  People had been babbling corporate secrets and inside tips between kisses since he was sixteen--a little matter like finally having a shot with Lana could hardly compete in the heat of the moment...

"'Friendly,' hmm?  Clark, I'm impressed."  And her head is going to look lovely on a pike outside the castle.

Something seemed to jolt Clark out of his shock at last, and he turned to Lex with a startled look.  "No!  Um, I mean, we're just friends.  Really.  I mean, it's great to finally get to know her and all, but that's all it is.  Honest."

Half turned toward him, Clark's face was screened from Chloe's sight as he gave Lex a look of mute pleading, all but begging him to believe.  'She's not my type,' the younger man mouthed slowly and deliberately, and when Lex quirked a pointed brow--So who is?--Clark just grinned at him.  Wide and sappy and so completely obvious, Lex would have distrusted it immediately from anyone but Clark.

"Clark?"  The sound of the screen door banging shut made them both jump, Clark's face flushing painfully as he turned to smile at Martha.

"Um, hi, Mom..."

Lex sighed.  Eventually, this day would be over and then maybe, maybe he'd have a chance to talk with Clark about...everything.  The kiss, that grin, the lovely Miss Lang and just what Clark's type was exactly and where he expected that to go.

In the meantime, Lex could be patient.  He could.  Even if it killed somebody.

After all, he had the memory of ten seconds of bliss to tide him over.  That had to count for something, right?

Glancing over for the millionth time at the poised and polite man sitting across the table from him, Clark began to seriously consider going completely insane.  Maybe while they were busy trying to rationalize him wearing funny glasses and his underwear on over his pants, he'd have enough leeway to just scoop Lex up from his parents' kitchen and have his wicked way with him.  At least Chloe had already gone, escaping before she could be pressed into service.  Trying to keep his parents from noticing the way he looked at Lex was hard enough, but around Chloe, it would have been impossible.

Having to sit quietly while his folks thanked Lex--grudgingly, at least on his dad's part--for the help in organizing the clean-up wasn't helping.  He wished he could blame Lex for being so infuriatingly...sexy, but he suspected that it was just part of the man.  Everything had a double meaning somehow, from the absent way Lex ran his thumb across the lip of his glass as he talked to the way he savored a glass of lemonade like it was a fine wine.  Lex simply enjoyed his surroundings, wherever he was and whatever he happened to be doing, and while hardly adverse to stacking the deck--fast cars and a gourmet cook, expensive toys and clothes--there was an unconscious sensuality in everything he did, hidden behind a mask of controlled distance.

It was driving Clark crazy, wondering what it would be like to have that intense passion to feel turned on him and him alone.

"Well," Lex said at last, setting his glass aside with a finality that made Clark's heart trip foolishly in his chest.  Finally, Lex was getting ready to leave--and finally, he'd be able to get the man alone, follow him out to his car or drag him to the barn or something, anything, five minutes was all he asked...  "I should be getting home.  Thanks for the lemonade, Mrs. Kent, and you'll have to let me know how the new fertilizer works, such as it is..."

Clearing his throat, Clark's dad stood up when Lex did and offered his hand for a shake.  "Sure, Lex--and thanks again for your help..."

"You're welcome, Mr. Kent--but they're your neighbors, after all.  I'm sure they were happy to pitch in."  And on the clock, at that.  When Lex had suggested calling down to the plant to ask for a volunteer team to help shovel dead frogs for a few hours on company time, Jonathan's jaw had dropped.  Whether it was from the sheer beauty of the solution--"no worse than a typical day's work for our people," as Lex had so mildly put it--or whether it was from the idea of a Luthor offering to lose money to help someone else, Clark couldn't be sure.  What mattered was that Jonathan had been surprised enough to say yes.

Clark really hadn't wanted to clean this particular mess up by himself, even at superspeed and with his dad helping.  Eventually, though, he was going to have to ask Lex why he kept referring to Smallville as 'Castle Rock.'  He had the feeling it might be important.

"Still, thanks for all you've done," his mom added, laying a hand on Lex's arm before he could leave the kitchen.  "Before you go, do you want to take some of those brownies with you?"

From the way Lex stopped dead in his tracks and powered up his thousand-watt smile--this, from a man Clark had never even caught putting sugar into his coffee--the answer was a resounding yes.  "I couldn't impose..."

"Oh no, there's plenty.  You forget, we live with the bottomless Clark.  Here, I'll wrap some up for you..."

Clark tried not to grin.  His mom trying to "feed Lex up"--that was a good sign, right?  Even better, his dad had actually invited Lex in today, armed with the excuse that Lex must want to clean up before getting back into his nice, new, frogless car.  And Lex himself had been excellent company, muting the habitual worldly-wise air of a cutthroat businessman that made the Luthor name stand out like a roadblock between Lex and the world.  This past hour, with everyone acting so friendly...

On the one hand, it made Clark's paranoid instincts mutter furiously, enough that he'd half-jokingly stretched his vision to check for pods beneath his parents' bed.  On the other hand, it gave him some confidence that, if things between him and Lex went the way he hoped, maybe his parents wouldn't disown him or keel over of matching heart attacks on the spot if and when he came out to them.  It was with a feeling of cautious optimism that he followed Lex out to the car, his hands wedged firmly in his pockets to keep them from wandering while anyone might see.

Slow summer twilight was creeping across the sky as they stepped out onto the porch, the quiet zip of grasshoppers giving way to crickets singing.  A few bright stars were already visible on the horizon, and Lex seemed to find them fascinating, but Clark couldn't pull his eyes away from the other's face.  The shadows softened the clean, strong line of bone, draping planes and hollows with a subtle beauty vastly different from the compelling attraction of the daylight hours.  Staring at Lex with a bemused grin, Clark realized that he understood the lure of candlelight for the first time in his life and wondered what Lex looked like curled before a fire, or under the open sky just before a storm, or sprawled across a bed at dawn.

When Lex looked over at him at last, Clark knew his thoughts must be written plain across his face by the way Lex suddenly smiled, fond and...pleased.  A jerk of his head, and Lex was stepping off the porch, sauntering over to his car and hopefully out of earshot of the house, both their hands in their pockets now and grinning like a pair of fools.

Well, no.  Lex managed to look dignified even wearing that particular blend of smugness and relief, but Clark was certain he was making up for that enough for both of them.

Opening the car door, Lex paused with it between them like a shield, a perfect casual distance to anyone who happened to be watching. "So.  About Lana..."

"Lex."  Clark would have thought it impossible to grin any wider, but perhaps he was discovering a new power.  "Haven't you heard?  Lana's not my type."

"And what is your type?" Lex asked, his amiable smile inviting confession.  If there was a hint of uncertainty beneath the smooth, purring tone, Clark refused to acknowledge it.

"Well...lately I seem to have a thing for maniacs in Porsches," he drawled, though the blush probably ruined his attempt at coolness.  Lex didn't seem to mind that, holding his eyes with an intensity that would have been disturbing coming from anyone else.

"Lately, hmm?  I suppose if you're curious..."  Curious.  Clark didn't like the sound of that--it was too impermanent, too reserved, and though there wasn't a hint of accusation or disappointment in Lex's voice, Clark knew it wasn't what Lex wanted either.

"That doesn't begin to cover it," he forced himself to say, though he felt like his cheeks were simply going to catch fire.  "Lex--"

"Wait," Lex interrupted, shaking his head quickly with a glance towards the house.  "We can't talk here, and you haven't really had time to think about this.  I don't want you to say anything you don't mean."

And God, Lex was going to be noble--an incredibly attractive look on him, yes, but Clark had been contemplating insanity before that, thank you.  "I could sneak over there..."

"And I really don't want you to do anything foolish.  Leaving aside what your parents would say if they found you missing, prowling around Castle Rock at night really isn't a good idea, Clark.  Even for you."

Clark knew there was something about that last statement he really should refute, but Lex was looking at him again--not the attentive way Clark was used to, but with the hungry, measuring stare he'd only been able to catch on Lex's face by surprise before.  It was out in the open now, as blatant as a caress, and his irritation with Lex's sudden attack of maturity flew right out the window.  "Um.  Castle Rock?" he heard himself say, anything to keep from pinning Lex against the side of the car and...getting himself grounded, for one thing.

"You don't think we're living in a Stephen King novel?"  That smile, slow and promising, ought to be illegal.  Probably was, in this state--everything else fun seemed to be.

"I was thinking Bradbury, actually.  Or a comic book..."  He'd moved forward a step, one hand resting on the door frame beside Lex's, wishing desperately that they were elsewhere.  One kiss--and Lex was right, he needed to think and they needed to talk, but--he wanted another.  And more.  A lot more.

"We'll get you a cape," Lex promised, his voice sending shivers down Clark's spine, and they weren't talking about outdoor wear, suddenly.  He didn't even want to think about what they were talking about, because if he did...  "Tomorrow."  It was almost an order, and it took a long moment for the meaning to penetrate.

"Early," he agreed, shaking his head hard as he took a reluctant step back.  Thank God it was a weekend.  "Breakfast?"

"Please."  That look again, sweeping over him from head to toe, and Clark swallowed, hard.  "I think I may have a produce emergency tomorrow, now that I think of it..."

"I'll be there."

Lex just smiled, folding himself behind the driver's seat and pausing before he shut the door.  "Good night, Clark..."

With a look like that to see him off to bed, it just might be after all.

Most mornings at the castle, breakfast was a cup of coffee at his desk, toast if he'd skipped dinner the night before, and his laptop.  The look on the cook's face when he'd ordered the full battery had been almost rapturous, to the point where he'd hastily informed her that the guest would be Clark Kent, small-town boy of uncultured palate but healthy appetite, not a business associate needing to be impressed by the unpronouncability of the cuisine.

Watching her smile turn approving had somehow failed to reassure, but when he'd seen what she'd done with breakfast, all his reservations went right out the window.

"This is really good," Clark offered, a forked bite of French toast drizzling honey over perfect hash browns.  Clark had been uncharacteristically quiet since he'd arrived promptly at seven on Lex's doorstep--but not, Lex was certain, out of discomfort or avoidance.  The shy looks he'd been getting throughout the meal were too promising for that, all want and admiration and a blinding happiness Lex hadn't even dared to consider before this.  That Clark might be as...attached as Lex was himself would have been asking too much of Fate, surely.

But Clark was here and not running, or qualifying what he wanted, or bringing Lana or Chloe between them as a warn-off.  'Sure, I like you, Lex--but.'  Clark was...God, he was young, but he wasn't nearly as naive as he was innocent.  Lex could trust him to have made up his own mind before coming over today, and what happened after...happened.

Not that he had any intention of playing fair when it came to keeping what he'd won, but that went without saying.  He was a Luthor, after all, and sometimes that wasn't such a bad thing to be.

"That's a heck of a smile, Lex," Clark mentioned casually, grinning at him curiously before taking a bite of omelet.  Lex's brows arched, but he supposed it was a bit...calculating for the breakfast table.  Possessive, even.  Clark didn't look like he minded.

"Just enjoying the view," he said--and it was entirely lacking in subtlety, yes, but it got him a blush and a grin before Clark put down his fork and started fiddling with his orange juice.  The mental shoulder-squaring Clark was doing was terribly obvious to anyone who knew him, but Lex wasn't worried.  Much.

"I was...hoping we could do more of that.  More than that," Clark admitted in a rush, glancing up from the table to check Lex's reaction.  It should have looked painfully shy, reminding Lex of all the reasons why it was a bad idea to get involved with someone so much younger than him, but that was bargaining without the smile.  A little self-conscious, a little self-deprecating, but warm and hopeful and cheesy as hell.  Pleased with itself, and smug was just a really good look on Clark Kent.  "Let me know if I start babbling, here..."

"Don't worry.  You've been so quiet, I was beginning to think you were trying to figure out how to let me down easy," Lex teased, enjoying the look of intense disbelief that flickered across Clark's face.

"You're kidding, right?  Lex, you're...you're amazing, you know that?  I mean you're...well, you're brilliant, and you've got more guts than anyone I know...not to mention that you're really, really...um..."

"Bald?"

"Hot," Clark admitted, his grin stretching like it was about to take over his face entirely if it could come to an alliance with the blush.  Lex almost dropped his eyes, the back of his neck prickling with embarrassment over just how much Clark's compliments had affected him--nothing he hadn't heard before, but nothing he'd ever trusted as sincere before, either.  It was something he'd almost forgotten, not just what it was like to be around someone who didn't automatically anticipate the worst from him, but someone who honestly expected the best.  It made Lex want to make gestures, to prove himself in public and expensive ways, that he was worth that open look and the smile that trusted him not to make this something wrong or dirty.

That he wasn't out of his mind for thinking cautiously, wistfully, of permanence.

"Clark..."  Christ, was that his voice?  Swallowing deliberately, he tried again.  "Have you...?"  He had no idea where he was going with that question, but Clark was ready with an answer regardless.  Prepared.  Just one of the many things Lex liked about him, that charming boyscout nature...

"I thought about it last night, Lex, and...I want this.  I know about the dangers and I can imagine what people are going to say, but...it's worth it.  I...this isn't just a crush," he added, like the words were dragged from him but necessary.

"No," Lex murmured--agreeing, not disputing--and reached out slowly to trace the line of Clark's cheek with his fingertips.  "I'm no good at sharing," he heard himself warn, but Clark was rubbing against his palm with a suddenly lazy smile, and the rest of his carefully-planned objections were fleeing along with any claim to sense.

"Except with me.  And neither am I."  Determined voice at the last, and it seemed Clark wasn't beyond delivering his own warnings, something Lex found obscurely more comforting than a challenge for once.  Not for the first time, he wished devoutly that Victoria had stayed a bad memory before she'd had a chance to make more of them, and not just for Lex this time.

"Good," he said, and there were so many other things they needed to discuss--Clark's parents, Clark's limits, all the secrets they'd both been keeping close to the chest since the day he'd been fished from the river--but he didn't care.  Clark had captured his hand and was nuzzling against his wrist, holding Lex's stare with all the courage in the world shining out of his eyes as his tongue darted out and licked a slow, wet trail from the heel of Lex's hand to the tips of his fingers.

Questions and secrets were nothing next to that, and Lex wasn't breathing, not if it might possibly break the spell that had Clark's perfect lips opening around his first two fingers and--God, sucking them, slow and deliberate, and he was never going to be able to look at Clark's mouth without embarrassing himself again.  Clark kept his eyes glued on Lex's face, asking wordlessly if this was okay--but Clark must indeed have thought about things last night, because there was no way he couldn't know what he was doing to Lex.  Lex's soft, strangled moan was probably a dead give-away.

And he'd thought the whole innocent virgin thing was hot.

It didn't compare.  And this was going to be so good, and he couldn't wait to push Clark down on a bed somewhere and show him why sucking on Lex's fingers like he wanted to blow them was enough to make him groan just from the anticipation.

With all that going through his head, he consoled himself later, it was really no wonder he hadn't heard footsteps in the doorway.

"Oh, please.  Don't let me stop you," a horribly familiar voice sneered, sharp with scorn.  "I suppose the seduction of underaged innocents is better than slinking around making shoddy business deals behind my back..."

Lex's head jerked around quickly enough to make him curse at the vulnerability it displayed, but Lionel typically had that effect on him.  "Dad," he said, flat-voiced, reclaiming his hand from a shocked and embarrassed Clark.  Damn.  "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'd say to the continued ignorance of the Kents," Lionel said with a snort, coming into the room at last now that his disappointing freak son was no longer in danger of fucking anybody over the breakfast table.  "I would have thought even you had more sense than to get this involved with them, Lex."

That was rich, coming from a Luthor.  Either of them.  "Well, unless you're going to use the 'I saw them first' argument," he drawled, refusing to look at Clark, "I don't see how it's any of your business."

//And if you've fucked this up for us...//

Lionel's eyes narrowed as he loomed over them, cold eyes sliding over Lex with insulting consideration.  Out of the corner of his eye, Lex noticed Clark shifting uneasily in his chair, but all he could do was pray the younger man wouldn't say anything to draw Lionel's attention back to him.  So long as his dad was attacking Lex alone, it was something he could deal with.  Letting Lionel sharpen his claws on Clark was out of the question.

"Everything you do is my business, Lex.  You're a Luthor.  You could try acting like one."  A glance at Clark, swift and cutting as his smirk, set Lex's teeth on edge.  "Starting with getting rid of your new toy before his family has something to worry about."

And that was enough.  "Leave the Kents out of this, Dad," he said quietly--very quietly, with a tiny smile as his voice chilled the room.  "I don't know what's between you and Jonathan, but they're my concern now, not yours.  And I look out for my own."

Lionel raked him with another assessing glare, but Lex caught the flicker in his father's eyes, something almost like surprise.  He supposed it was too much to hope for that it had been fear.  "Don't challenge me, boy.  You're nowhere near as clever as you think you are."

"Maybe not," he all but purred, only slowly beginning to realize the depths of the rage threatening to boil over inside him.  It made him want to move, to explode out of his chair and reach for swords, so fierce and hot that just sitting still took all the discipline his father had beaten into him over the years.  That he wasn't glowing with it was almost a surprise.  "But ask yourself--just how clever do I have to be?  We've already established I'm ruled by my emotions.  The harder you push me, the easier it all gets, Dad."

It was a long, silent moment that stretched between them as Lionel went pale then flushed, as furious as Lex had ever had the satisfaction of seeing him before--speechless with it, in fact, and God, that was a bad sign, but worth it.  Completely.  Arching a barely-there brow at his father, Lex allowed himself a smile, slow and indulgently dangerous, and watched Lionel's trembling anger morph without warning into appreciative laughter.

"Lex, Lex," Lionel chuckled as he got his breath back, shaking his head.  "Sometimes I forget you are a Luthor."

And wasn't that just like his dad--a grudging concession in one breath, followed by an insult in the next.  Still.  Lionel wasn't hovering anymore, at least, opting to claim the chair across the table from Clark with the regalness of a king crashing another country's state banquet.  Better than drawn knives, but that meant he wasn't leaving, either, dammit...

"So.  You and I have business to discuss," Lionel stated in a voice that brooked no opposition.  Having surrendered one battle, his father had predictably turned his attention back to the war.  This time, when Lionel's eyes flicked to Clark, there was more curiosity than dismissal in his gaze, patently wondering just what Clark was to Lex to demand such a ferocious defense.  "You--finish your toast.  If Lex thinks that highly of you, you can at least be decorative.  Now--"

Again with the insults--but Clark was staring at both of them with something like bemusement, a little pale...but not running.  Even after what Lex had just done, for him.

//I think I just threatened to kill my dad...// Lex realized with slow horror, not certain whether to be relieved Lionel had apparently approved or shocked to know that he'd meant it.  Not that he hadn't thought it before, but...he'd meant it.  Would have done Lionel in with a butter knife if he'd had one more threat to goad him.  One more threat to the Kents, to Clark.

Sometime very soon, he was going to have to take a good, long look at the depth of his attachment to Clark...not that he supposed it would matter much in the long run.

Clark was his, and they were all just going to have to get used to that, his father included.

And he did not share well with others.

//I think Lex just threatened to kill his dad...and now they're bonding over it.  I am never going to understand those two...//

Watching Lex and Lionel trade verbal attacks over the breakfast table, he was a little amazed by the unfamiliarly amiable tone of it all.  The two Luthors were smiling at each other, and Clark was finally starting to realize why that particular expression on Lex rarely ever meant what you thought it did--but they almost seemed to be enjoying themselves.  Like a particularly cutthroat game of chess played for high stakes or two generals maneuvering for high ground, taking an odd sort of pride in their opponent's skill.  As incredible as it was to see Lex open up to him, all those defenses dropping without a second thought, it was weirdly right to see Lex just bloom under the fierce and unpredictable regard of his father, to watch them circle and snarl at each other like two well-fed tigers who weren't in it for the hunt, but the sheer satisfaction of the fight.

Very strange to think that it had only taken a show of near-homicidal ruthlessness to mellow Lionel towards his son, and did Clark really want to consider that it had been because of him?  No.  But he knew he'd better, because he suspected that it took a lot to tempt Lex to give up on winning Lionel's approval in favor of hiding the body, and the next Phelan to come along might not be so lucky.  And did he want that on his conscience?

No--but he wanted it on Lex's even less.  Which meant...something.  Because he really didn't know how to keep Lex from trying to do everything in the man's considerable power to protect him, short of convincing Lex that he didn't need protection.  Strength, speed, invulnerability--he had everything but the meteor rocks on his side in any confrontation, and Lex--

Deserved the truth.  If they were actually going to start anything they meant to continue, and Clark did.  It wasn't that he couldn't imagine his life without Lex, but it wasn't one that appealed much, either.  And it was what Lex wanted too, he was sure of it--the way the other man had frozen up for that one, telling second the night before, asking without asking if Clark was just curious, like it would have hurt if the answer had been yes.  Hurt and hurt bad.  Clark knew the feeling.

So.  The truth.  Soon.  Before Lex figured it all out on his own or gave him another of those pained looks that stated clearly as words that Clark was letting him down, but Lex would take it because he didn't expect anything else from people.  Definitely before then.  He didn't ever want to see that look on Lex's face again.

"Son, you should know by now that you can't trust anything a scientist says, not until he's handed in his final report and the finished product.  The competition for funding alone--"

"Dad, please.  Much as I'm sure it pains you to admit it, I do happen to know what I'm doing in a lab, and I checked his results myself.  The tampering your people did with the fertilizer was a good start, but the side effects would have buried the company.  On the other hand, the changes you were hoping for are easy to duplicate through traditional gene-splicing--"

Nibbling at his toast, Clark wondered if he was really as superfluous as he felt, since Lex wouldn't look at him--and he understood that, really, though he would bet money that Lex was worried he didn't.  Don't look at the kid who'd been sucking your fingers at the table not ten minutes ago--don't show that you weren't capable of paying attention to business despite any distraction--or Lionel would pounce for the kill.  Clark got that, though it disturbed him a little that he did.  Maybe he'd been hanging around Lex too much.

And maybe he ought to do it more often.  At least then people might stop looking at him like he was the victim-in-waiting, just a few short years from being eaten alive by the Big Bad World outside Smallville.  He couldn't help it if he was an optimist--but that didn't make him clueless.  Just...idealistic, maybe.  It wasn't really a four-letter word, whatever people thought.  Besides, this way he and Lex balanced out.

"It still doesn't excuse diverted funds and agreements made in the Luthor name without the full authority of the company to back them up."

"Maybe not, but results will.  That is all you care about, right?  I won't even say that I gambled on this.  Dr. Chavarin has impeccable credentials, as I'm sure you've already discovered--I did LuthorCorp a favor by luring him away from his former employers.  And once he's delivered this breakthrough with the genetically-altered crops, I'm sure you can find any number of projects to keep him busy."

Lionel's smile stretched, calm and considering.  "Maybe I have a few ideas he could play with now."

It was intriguing, watching the way Lex went still--not wooden, or in any very obvious way, but there was a sudden sense of waiting about him that sent a perverse thrill down Clark's spine.  He was starting to understand why his dad kept trying to tell him that Lex was dangerous, and he doubted he'd ever be able to admit to either of his folks that that was actually kindof a...turn-on.  Watching Lex weigh the odds, what he wanted versus the big picture, calculating the cost of fight or surrender.  The paradoxical feeling it gave Clark of being safe.

"Chavarin's previous team isn't sitting idle," Lex said at last--not an outright demand, but an oblique request for compromise.  "I won't say it's a tied race, but if we want the patents, it'll take focus.  Dedication on our parts."

In other words, 'please don't kill this project just to show me who's boss.'  Clark almost couldn't believe Lionel Luthor, supposedly one of the most successful businessmen in the world, could really be so...schoolyard bully towards his own son, but apparently he could.  He did wonder, though, whether Lex had ever asked himself what it meant that his father was willing to lose billions, theoretically, over a family powerplay.  Maybe to the Luthors, that was love.

"We'll look into it," Lionel replied, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, but Lex seemed to relax a bit and poured them both coffee.  Crisis passed, it would seem--and he desperately hoped this meant Lionel was about to leave, but he was afraid to hold his breath.

With good cause, it seemed.

"Perhaps we should tour the facilities," Lionel suggested lightly--and innocence on the elder Luthor reminded Clark overwhelmingly of a cat showing its belly, just to tempt you close enough to really dig the claws in.  "Reassure the good doctor that you have the full backing of the company.  I'm sure he'll be happy to discuss his results and his game plan with the investors, hmm?"

Oh, God.  This wasn't Castle Rock, this was hell.

"Of course," Lex agreed immediately, and only Clark saw the way his hand fisted on his thigh, the knuckles standing out whitely for a moment before relaxing with conscious effort.  "Shall I call down and let him get a presentation together, or were you aiming for a surprise inspection?  That's if anyone's actually working on a Saturday.  This is a scientific lab we're talking about, not a crap factory..."

"Oh, call, by all means.  I hate to be kept waiting."

Biting his lip kept near-hysterical laughter at bay, but that was a minor victory, insignificant in the long run.  Waiting.  Lionel had no idea.

For the first time since his dad had sat down at the table with them, Lex looked over at Clark and found a smile, calm, untroubled, and completely at odds with the apology stark in his eyes.  "I'd invite you along, Clark, but it's usually pretty boring watching Dad terrorize the staff.  Maybe we could pick this up again later?"

Don't say no, Lex's eyes were practically begging, though the rest of him was a perfect, confident mask.  I'm going as crazy as you are, Clark, and you're not the one who has to deal with my father.  Don't run.

"Please.  I'd like that."  Soon, he hoped his own face was saying as he tried not to wince at how bland his words sounded--how polite, but it was Lex's dad sitting there watching them with faint amusement as they were projecting their hormones back and forth, and he wasn't sure if that was funny or just really, really wrong.  Most parents would have been dragging them apart by their ears, but he could at least be grateful to have dodged that particular bullet.  So far.

There was still his dad to worry about, after all...

"I'll walk you out," Lex said suddenly, rising with only a brief warning glance at his father, and Clark scrambled to catch up.  For a man without superspeed, Lex was moving at quite a clip as they rounded the corner of the long hall, quickly enough for Clark to start wondering if Lex was mad at him.

His nebulous worries scattered as they reached the front door.  Turning without warning, Lex latched onto Clark's collar and yanked him down, mouth claiming his in an unexpected kiss that threatened to melt Clark where he stood.  It was fierce and possessive, not at all shy of anyone who might be watching, a confusion of taste and stroking tongues and breathless sounds that made the rest of the world just fall away from the pure hunger Lex was inspiring in him.  It was something he could easily see doing for the rest of his life, give or take a few hours for sleep, and when Lex pulled slowly and reluctantly away, it almost hurt to stop.

"Clark," Lex breathed, eyes fluttering open to fix him with a look that would have scared him even a week ago.  Like Lex could eat him alive and make him like it, and Lex was intending to savor the meal.  Caught up in the shivery smugness of having put that look on Lex's face in the first place, it was a long moment before he realized he'd pushed them up against the door and that Lex had wedged one of his thighs between Clark's, and...fuck, it felt so good to rock slow and easy into the curve of a lean, narrow hip...

"Yeah..."  Brilliant response, but...control.  He needed to find it again, pry his hands off of Lex's hips and not just run away with him until they found someplace they couldn't be interrupted.  He could wait, at least until Lex got back.  He could.

"Tomorrow?"  Lex sounded apologetic, but Clark couldn't keep the dismay off his face no matter how hard he tried.

"That long?"

"If I'm lucky.  I'll call when I get back..."

Sighing, Clark dropped his head to press his brow against Lex's, forcing his hips to still and taking a deep breath.  "All right.  I'll let you go.  I just..."

"Me too," Lex groaned, smiling ruefully an instant later.  "All of it."

One more kiss, and Clark was letting go, slipping out the door and turning back to wave, hoping he didn't look as forlorn as he felt.  Tomorrow...that was an eternity from now.  Sometimes he wondered if there was a God, and if He hated aliens.  Or maybe Lionel really was the devil everybody thought him, but...no, that didn't fit.  Lionel would be trying to lead him and Lex into temptation then, wouldn't he?  So that just left Lionel being an evil bastard of the human variety.

Walking slowly home with his hands in his pockets, Clark tried really hard not to think wistfully of butter knives and Lionel's rotten heart, but settled for imagining how inspired Lex would be when they finally got a chance to be together again.

Preferably with Lionel tied up and stuffed in a trunk somewhere out of their way, but...he'd settle for a few hours alone.  With Lex.

//Wow,// he thought--and grinned, the idea still new enough to buoy his spirits as he trudged frustratedly home.

"Kent residence."

With one hand on the steering wheel, Lex cradled his cell phone between shoulder and ear, reaching over to turn the music down as the call went through.  "Clark," he sighed, relieved not to run the gauntlet of parental supervision tonight.

"Lex?  Where are you?  You're not driving, are you?"

"Relax, Clark," he chuckled tolerantly, though his foot eased off the gas just a hair.  It wasn't even five yet, a quiet Saturday afternoon with barely anyone on the road--but trust Clark to worry.  Lex would never admit it to anyone, but it was rather...charming.  Completely unnecessary, but charming.  "It's a straightaway, and there's not a scrap of barbed wire in sight.  And I'm about fifteen minutes out of town and wondering what you're doing tonight."

"The meeting?"  Clark's voice came through as hopeful as Lex could wish, and he didn't bother to hide the satisfaction in his voice when he answered.

"Finished.  And dad's too busy making sure we outflank the competition to bother with making my life miserable right now, so...I thought I'd come straight home.  See if you wanted to get together and do something."  Oh yes, very innocent--which had more to do with the habit of doublespeak around his father than anything like embarrassment on his part, but Clark was still young enough that the tease was half the fun.

"God, yes.  Where?  Do you want me to meet you at the castle?"

"We haven't exactly had the best luck there," Lex warned, trying to think of anywhere they could go to be alone--somewhere close, but not too close.  Close enough that he could get Clark back in time for curfew without inviting another interruption.  If he could convince Clark to close his eyes through the trip, he could get them back to Metropolis in just over an hour and a half...

"Then why don't you come here?  My parents are going to be gone for hours," Clark added before Lex could growl at him.  "They left about an hour ago--Dad's looking at tractors again, and Mom went to keep him from buying one when we don't need it, but it'll be ages before they get back..."

"I'll be there in ten."

"Lex!  I thought you said you were fifteen minutes away..."

With a slow shark smile curving his lips, Lex chuckled under his breath, grinning even wider when he heard something like a strangled whimper from the other end of the line.  "You're right.  I did."

Hanging up before Clark could get reasonable on him, Lex reached over to punch the volume up again and lowered the pedal to the floor, both hands on the wheel as the Ferrari lunged forward.  Fields and farmsteads melted by on either side of the road, but he wasn't worried about the speed--he felt preternaturally alert, anticipation humming through his bones, and nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to keep him from the Kent residence today.

Barbed wire, hell.  Bring on the tanks.  Lex Luthor was a man with a mission.

It had to be Fate, those rapidly-dwindling miles of nothing but empty road, not another car in sight.  He only slowed a little as the offshoot country roads started coming closer, farms interspersed by houses as he neared Clark's place.  Obviously, the universe loved him--he made it in eight minutes flat, and when he fishtailed into the drive, he knew his back bumper had kissed air maybe two millimeters from the heavy wooden posts that hoisted the farm's sign.  Everything was fucking perfect.

Even Clark's white face and shaking head as he slid to a stop, an exact thirty-degree angle on the curving drive.  Perfect.

Stepping out of the car with his ears ringing from the sudden silence, Lex slammed the door behind him and stalked up to the porch with a grin that just wouldn't quit.  Clark was waiting on the top step, impossibly tempting in frayed and faded jeans that hugged his long legs like he'd been poured into them and a thin, plain white shirt hinting at those incredible abs beneath a light denim overshirt--unbuttoned, for once.  He wasn't even trying to get away or play hard to get, undoubtedly too stunned by Lex's superb display of automotive control to do anything but stare in awe at the master.

"God, Lex--one of these days, you're going to--mmph!"

There was something to be said for spontaneity and no neighbors for at least a mile.  Shoving Clark three paces back and up against the wall, Lex took shameless advantage of the surprised curve of the younger man's spine to dive in for a kiss, purring at the sheer sweetness of Clark's mouth beneath his own.  Soft lips opened for him on a gasp, and then all he could feel was the shy caress of Clark's tongue getting bolder, the amazing heat and steel-coiled strength pressed against him from hip to chest, Clark's legs braced wide to cradle Lex between them.  It was pure vanity, his hands wrapped around Clark's biceps as if he could hold the younger man still, but Clark was letting him, giving himself up to the kiss with a moan that buzzed ticklishly between them.  So fucking good...

"Lex," Clark breathed when his mouth was abandoned at last, Lex nudging Clark's jaw with his cheek until the long, tanned neck was laid bare before him.  He just had to taste, his tongue tracing light circles on Clark's warm skin before he lowered his mouth for a kiss, soft and wet.  When he followed it up with teeth, just enough to feel the bite, Clark hissed and jerked, hands grabbing for Lex's hips and rolling his head even further back.  Asking for more.  "Oh, fuck...don't stop..."

"Didn't plan on it," Lex muttered distractedly, smiling against Clark's throat.  Fuck, the boy had lovely instincts...and it was a little like being sixteen again himself and putting his father's bodyguard on his knees--so much strength arched and begging beneath his hands, and all of it his.  Needy hands pulling him closer, exquisite body rocking up into him, but it was his touch that made Clark shudder, his mouth and him calling the shots, though Clark could break him in two.

Only Clark was the one that sounded broken, a litany of curses and beautiful moans spilling from bitten lips as Lex tugged at an old, too-small t-shirt and found skin beneath, like satin stretched over steel.  It drew him like a starving man, and he wanted to taste that as well, all of Clark, wanted to force open the straining buttons at Clark's fly and devour him, listen to him scream Lex's name when he came.

He told himself it was only the sudden chill of shadow as a cloud blocked the sun that made him shiver, but Clark moaned again with the shamelessness of the devoted, and he knew he'd do anything to be the only one who ever heard that.  For it to be his like the sound of his own name.

"Clark," he murmured against trusting skin, tongue circling the hollow of a tanned throat as his hands slid up under soft cotton and stroked, teasing and sure.  Finally, he was going to be able to touch Clark the way he wanted to, and there was no one around to stop him.

"Kent!"

Jerking at the shout, Lex found himself staring into Clark's dazed eyes with a sinking feeling of deja vu.  Whoever had just had the nerve to interrupt them--and it was a boy's voice, but not Ross or Fordman's--Lex was going to bury them.

"I can't fucking believe you!" the stranger continued as Lex slowly turned, hyper-aware of Clark struggling behind him to regain his feet without leaning on the wall.  "You don't care anything about her, do you?  The way she looks at you, anyone would think you were her boyfriend instead of Whitney, but you'd rather fuck around with this Luthor prick.  You're fucking nuts, you know that?"

Standing between Lex's car and the porch was a thin young man with straggling blond hair and an unremarkable face twisted by fury into something almost menacing.  Frankly, Lex thought he could have taken the kid down at the tail-end of a week-long clubbing jag, without setting down his drink.  Sneering delicately as he looked the interloper over, he didn't see anything even remotely resembling a gun...but the name Carl Murphy popped suddenly into his head, and he reminded himself that this was Smallville, after all.  The quiet ones didn't always need guns when they snapped.

"Carl, wait," Clark started, cautiously stepping away from the wall and trying to put himself between Lex and the kid.  "It's not like that--I mean, Lana and I are just friends, that's all.  She's Whitney's girl, you know that--I wouldn't ever try to get between those two..."

"Oh, right, like I buy that.  You've been after her for years--the whole town knows it.  Well, you don't deserve her, Kent," Carl snapped, his voice ugly with rage.  "And I'm going to make sure you never hurt her again."

Something made Clark look up at the sky then, and though Lex could see nothing but massing storm clouds and drifting patches of blue, whatever Clark zoomed in on turned him white as a sheet.  "Oh fuck...Lex, run!"

He didn't wait to demand answers.  Following Clark's lead, he sprinted the length of the porch and vaulted over the railing, following Clark around the side of the house as Carl hurled taunting challenges at their backs.  All Lex knew was that anything terrible enough to freak Clark out like this was enough to worry him, too.  He just wished he knew what the plan was...

"Where are we going?" he called as he ran, some treacherous corner of his mind whispering that Clark was holding in because of him--that Clark could have been gone by now if Lex wasn't here to slow him down.  Not that he was slow or unfit by any means--for a normal man.  But Clark could have been two counties away by now if Lex had just proven himself a bit more trustworthy...

Or if he hadn't come here in the first place and put Clark in this position.  The one where Lex's dick maybe got them both killed.

"The storm cellar," Clark yelled back, and the look he gave Lex was so completely bizarre--uncertainty and trust and a sheepish plea for forgiveness--Lex found himself wondering if that was where Jonathan kept the bodies of all the people who'd come on to Clark while he was still sweet and tender and patently illegal.  "You should be safe there--"

"Me?"  And that was too much, Clark's heroic impulses taken too damn far, but the time for protest was suddenly and shockingly gone.

There were things falling from the sky, black and veined with streaks of a familiar green that started to glow the closer they came to the ground.  They seemed to be writhing as they fell, and for one surreal moment, Lex thought they might be worms, that their jealous fisherman's superpower was the control of giant mutated bait--

--and then one landed on his shoulder and slithered, right for his neck, and in the instant he pulled it off and flung it aside, he realized they were leeches, giant and swollen with slick meteor green.  The thing had thrashed in his hand like a snake, weirdly tougher than he'd expected the thing to be and far faster, and he would swear it had been trying to bury its thousand needle teeth in his hand before he slung it away from him.

Now he knew why Clark had run, at least...

But Clark, usually strong as the proverbial ox, was suddenly staggering, running with a hand clapped to his stomach like there was something inside that wanted to come out, immediately.  "Clark!" he shouted, running faster to catch up and yank on the younger man's free arm, slinging it over his shoulders as Clark stumbled without warning.  "Where's the cellar?" he demanded, prepared to haul his suddenly-flagging friend to safety by main force if he had to.  Something disgustingly wet landed on the back of his head and slid towards Clark's arm, sharp, skidding teeth raking a line of fire across his skin, but he shook it off without breaking stride, snarling under his breath.

"Over there," Clark groaned, jerking his head at a dusty metal-shod door in the ground by the back porch, and Lex laid on the speed as best he could, dragging Clark along with him.  There were more of the leeches now, and he shrugged them off furiously, trying to console himself that at least they couldn't possibly fasten onto Clark--and they were almost there, both of them wrestling with the storm cellar door, almost safe--

"Lex.  Stay here.  Please."

Surprised by the apologetic concern in Clark's voice, Lex had just enough time to look up from the gaping darkness laid open at their feet before Clark reached over and pushed him inside, slamming the door behind him.

He would have cursed as he tumbled inside, Clark's strength obviously not completely sapped by whatever had doubled him over in pain like that--but he was too busy remembering the way Clark had shaken on the cross with Lana's necklace around his neck, the skittish look the younger man had given Lex when he offered the same necklace back not long after.  Like an abused stray seeing a collar in the hand of the sap who'd begun feeding it, or a man who'd expected a handshake only to have a gun turned on him instead.

//It's the meteors,// Lex realized as he fetched up against something rounded and metallic, low to the ground and shrouded in cloth--and something went squish against his back, and that was it, he was done fucking around.

Surging to his feet, he hauled the drop cloth up with him in one hand and swiped fiercely at his back with the other, groping for the wall or a light switch.  He didn't have time to get turned around in the dark down here, not when he'd just figured out that Clark did have a weakness, and not when Clark was up there facing it.  Making a face as he wiped off his hand--slime-coated, and he was rather glad not to see it, actually--against the fisted cloth, he slapped out again when his fingers were cleaner and found the wall and the light switch at the same time.

//Finally.  Now where's the--//

It took a long moment for him to really understand what it was he was seeing, and then to believe it.

When he did, he could only find one thing to say, and he said it with the perfect breathless reverence usually reserved for amazing cars, mind-blowing orgasms, and near-death experiences.

"Fuck."

Hell of a time for Stephen King to morph into Spielberg, but that was Smallville for you.

In some small, distracted corner of his mind, Clark knew he was going to catch hell from Lex later for this most recent stunt, but he was too busy trying not to heave his guts out, fall on his face, or worry too distractingly about how hard he'd pushed Lex to care about that now.  He honestly hadn't meant to shove that hard, and if anything had happened to Lex because of it, he'd never forgive himself...but the thought of his friend staying out here with Carl and those...things was enough to turn his stomach worse than the meteor residue did.

They were falling all around him now, clinging to his back and shoulders, and he could feel them latching on through his clothes, needle-toothed mouths sucking blindly against his flesh.  So far, his skin was still holding together, strong enough to shatter their fangs when they tried to dig in deep, but his limbs weighed on him like granite as his veins began to darken and twist.  He didn't know how the leeches had become infected--maybe some animal had eaten mutated plants, or something in Tucker's Creek had swallowed the meteor rocks, and the leeches had gotten to it--but he thought he knew how Carl had been affected now.  He'd probably just gone wading through the shallows one day, and a horde of slick, green-veined black bodies had converged on him and--

Suddenly, the ground was very friendly, rushing up to meet him as a blinding pain exploded across the back of his skull.  Rolling over, he felt boneless bodies smash and pop beneath him, teeth scraping ruthlessly across his shoulders as he peered up at his attacker.  At least--small favors--the 'rain' was tapering off, not that it would do him much good.  It was getting hard just to breathe, and he didn't know how long he could be exposed to the meteors' taint before his invulnerability started to ebb, but he just knew getting it into his bloodstream would be bad.  Very bad.  He had to get out of here, lead Carl away from Lex--

"Jesus, look at you, Kent," Carl muttered down at him, brushing leeches from his shoulders without fear of their teeth.  They didn't seem interested in biting Carl, but maybe they didn't feed on their own.  Through the thin barrier of pale skin, Carl's veins glowed the same green as the leeches, as the meteors, and it just got brighter the closer he came.  "You look like shit, you know that?  What the hell did Lana ever see in you?"

He almost wanted to laugh.  What was it about the meteors that made people so single-minded, anyway?  Glaring down at him with an expression of profound disgust--and Clark knew what he must look like, didn't have to glance at his gnarling, blistering hands to know how far the poisoning had progressed--all Carl could think of was Lana, not all the time he and Carl had known each other, spent together as kids.

And what was it with this town and Lana Lang?  No wonder Whitney made her feel safe--Whitney occasionally ignored her.

But speaking of whom...

"Carl...you know she loves Whitney.  Why are you doing this?"  He felt like a total idiot--wasting the last dregs of his strength on a heart-to-heart talk with a madman, one stalker to another.  //Ex-stalker,// he reminded himself, //at least where Lana's concerned...//

Lex.  He still had to get away from here, before Carl decided Lex was competition too.  And Lex would kill him if he keeled over before they even got past first base.

Heaving himself painfully to his knees, he had just enough time to see the vicious kick aimed for his chin before it landed, knocking him back on his ass as Carl hovered over him with a grin.  "Please.  Whitney doesn't pay nearly as much attention to her as she deserves.  She'll get tired of it sooner or later, and I'll be waiting.  But in the meantime, y'know--I've found a new way to amuse myself lately.  You liked the rain of frogs thing, right?  How would you feel about a rain of Clark?"

And oh fuck, he could hear the wind picking up all around them, a whistling scream singing out over a low, deep hum that moaned over the fields, gathering strength.  Lex.  The farm.  He had to move.

Shoving himself up again, he ducked another kick and stumbled to his feet, Carl's laughter ringing in his ears.  If he could just outrun the effects of the damned leeches...or even if he couldn't, as soon as he was out of range, by the time the storm dropped him, he should be fine.  Shouldn't he?

//I really don't want to know how far he can fling me, though...//

He really should have been expecting another blow from behind.  He just wasn't expecting it to hurt like it did, like maybe his body was just about at the end of its rope, and maybe the next hit would be the time he did more than bruise.  He tried to struggle up anyway, only to have a foot come down in the middle of his back and slam him to the dirt, eye-level to the swollen black shapes wriggling through the grass towards him as if they could sense fresh prey.  If it turned out that this time he could be bitten...

Blood thinner.  They were like mosquitoes when they latched on to a food source, interested only in keeping the blood coming, and so they pumped something into the wound through their saliva--only this was going to be laced with green poison, and he was in so much trouble--

"Why are you running, Clark?  This is going to be fun!  The ride of your--"

Something made a sound like a meat tenderizer slamming into a side of beef, and Carl went down with all the grace of a ton of bricks.  Before he'd even hit the grass, the wind died down with a plaintive groan, one last rippling gust tearing through the cornfield with a rattling sigh.

Pushing himself dazedly to hands and knees, Clark turned his head cautiously to see Lex standing over them both with a rusted length of metal pipe gripped in both hands like a baseball bat, trying his damnedest to wipe a murderous snarl off his face.  "Lex?"

Grey eyes suddenly went huge as Lex got a good look at Clark's face, and the pipe went flying as Lex stooped to haul him up.  "Fucking hell, Clark--what did that bastard do to you?"

"Not him--the leeches," Clark gasped, trying to stagger away from the squirming things and immensely grateful when Lex caught on immediately.

"The meteor rocks, right," Lex muttered, slinging Clark's arm over his shoulders again and helping him limp towards the back door.  "So I guess you and mutants really don't get along, hmm?"

"Huh?"  He knew it was important, what Lex seemed to be implying.  It was just that, at the moment, he didn't quite care.

"Right.  So here's what we'll do.  You go inside and get cleaned up, and I'll get a HAZMAT team out here.  And the police--I don't think I killed our cheerful friend, though I'm willing to correct that oversight..."

Clark chuckled, and it hurt.  "Don't make me laugh, Lex, my head's killing me..."

"Yeah, you just go right on thinking I'm kidding, Clark..."  Lex was grinning, though, the little lopsided one that actually reached his eyes, not like when he'd suggested Whitney would have been less competition if Clark had just let things happen naturally when his rival was trapped in a vehicle about to explode.  "You need me to get you to bed, or is it a proximity thing with the meteor effects?"

"Proxi--"  Wait.  "Lex?"

"Not now, Clark," Lex sighed, his expression cycling through everything from pained disbelief at himself to a philosophical resignation that looked entirely odd on Lex's usually determined face.  "Have I mentioned you look like hell?  We can talk later, after I get this place cleaned up."

Clark almost sagged in gratitude before he remembered that he was a good six inches taller and who knew how many pounds heavier than Lex, who was quietly proving just how much time he spent in the gym as opposed to behind a desk by keeping Clark on his feet at all.  Lex...had to know.  There was no other explanation for the man's oblique half-questions and simple acceptance of the way he must look right now, welted veins and cramping muscles and all.  And while Lex had been down in the cellar...

Lex had probably seen the ship while rummaging for that pipe, and Lex...wasn't asking.  Yet.  Didn't seem to be angry yet, either, but Clark would just give it time.  So many lies--

"I kinda preferred the frogs," Clark murmured as they stumbled up onto the back porch, relieved that Lex wasn't going to push.  "But you don't have to go to all this trouble--"

Lex snorted rudely as he fumbled the screen door open and dragged Clark into the kitchen, pausing obligingly for Clark to rest when he grabbed onto the nearest counter for support.  "Clark, those things out there are contaminated by the meteors, which I can tell just by looking have a bad effect on you.  Now, they'll probably die as soon as they dry out, but I'm not leaving them out there to make you sick.  Besides, it's no trouble.  The team should be on standby anyway.  After all, I own them."

"You what?"  Owned a HAZMAT team?  Weren't they government...?

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep the letter agencies out of this town?"  It was the plaintively irritated voice this time, the one that cropped up only when Lex was feeling spectacularly abused and only, as far as he could tell, around Clark.  "I don't know what keeps the local authorities from hitting the panic button and handing the whole mess over to...I don't know, the FBI?  NSA?"

"Small-town pride?" Clark offered as he leaned against the kitchen sink, already starting to feel better.  A glance down at his hands showed them smoothing out, becoming normal, and he could feel his strength rushing back along with a feeling of well-being that could only be his natural healing abilities kicking in at last.  Thank God.

"Right."  Lex cocked his head at him curiously, eyes flicking from Clark's face to his hands, but all he did was quirk a small, relieved smile before his frown caught up to him again.  "But let me tell you, you can only lie so many times on your reports before it starts to catch up with you, and with as many strange and unexplained deaths as we have in this town, it's not that odd for someone to start wondering if we're not ground zero for something big.  I know the EPA did studies on the meteor rocks themselves, but that was right after they hit--any halfway decent scientist, given the evidence of the weird in Smallville, would start to ask himself if exposure to an atmosphere or an Earth-type environment hasn't changed them since then."

"Like you?" Clark asked, wondering if this was going to lead into questions after all, but Lex just shrugged at him and looked away.

"It was better than thinking the plant and LuthorCorp was to blame.  And believe me, it was a possibility.  At least before I took over."

Clark had to grin at the return of the determined look, Lex's daily struggle to find his own way of doing business a familiar sight.  Lex had absolutely no problem with making money or grinding his competition into the dust--but he hadn't been kidding when he told his father that he took care of his own.  Chloe's dad had muttered about having a Luthor for an immediate supervisor, but even Gabe had had to admit that the plant was running safer and cleaner than it ever had before.

Shaking his head, Lex's eyes jumped up again to spear Clark's thoughtfully, refusing to be sidetracked.  "But the thing is, the last thing this town needs is for someone to come in and actually find proof.  On the one hand, it might--might--end in figuring out how to stop the mutations and maybe lead to a breakthrough or two in genetics...but I don't think I'm being cynical when I say it's much more likely that it'll end in people quietly disappearing.  I mean, have you really thought about these powers?  The military would fall all over itself to get their hands on any one of those mutants--but that is not going to happen."

"So you've been cleaning up the evidence..."  Clark wasn't entirely sure what to think about that--because it sounded like the smartest thing he'd heard in just about forever, but at the same time--Lex was Lex.  'Scientist' didn't begin to cover the depths of his need-to-know obsessiveness.  The question of just what he was doing with that evidence was...not as frightening as it would have been a week ago.  But still.

Lex took one look at his face and started laughing, soft and breathless, and more at himself than at Clark, it seemed.  "I have people in Metropolis studying them--looking for those cures," Lex admitted, arching a brow at Clark as if daring him to disbelieve.  "I figure if I'm the worst this town has to worry about, then they can all sleep a little easier in their beds tonight."

"Why's that?"  He wasn't going to enlighten Lex about how scary most people thought him.  Not when Lex had been working so hard...

"Well, gee.  You tell me."

Steady gaze denying nothing, staring up at Clark as if Lex was trying to memorize him and figure him out and measure him for a bed, all at the same time--and just like that, things were right between them again.  It was a hell of an admission, that Lex would study and question and bury evidence and do it for Clark, not just because secrets drove him crazy.  It even seemed to imply other things, permanent things, like Clark signing on for life as the conscience of a man with too much intelligence and too much money and power, and did anyone mention curiosity?  And maybe that was a lot to ask of anyone, but Clark...liked it.  Liked the idea of being able to help Lex, being able to give him something, when Lex obviously didn't want for anything.  Nothing material, anyway.

"And this isn't getting a team out here," Lex said suddenly, the look in his eyes almost accusing as he pulled out his cell phone.  Clark snorted, shaking his head.  As if Lex ever got distracted when he didn't want to be...

"Right.  I'll call the police," he offered, standing away from the counter--

--and stopped, turning back to Lex and leaning over to claim a kiss of his own, slow and sweet.  It wasn't anything like the hungry kisses they'd shared before, need and desire right there on the surface and diverting his attention from what made it so good--that it was Lex, his best friend, and it didn't have anything to do with meteor rocks or messing with his head, just Lex wanting to.  Wanting him.  And the fact that Lex could get him hot just by smiling at him was great, fantastic, and really, really boded well for later...but this was better.  The two of them standing close as lovers in the kitchen, the soft glide of lips and the way one of Lex's hands came up to thread gentle fingers through his hair, cell phone forgotten.

For once, Lex was the one that looked dazed beyond recovery when they eased apart, more beautiful with wide, vulnerable eyes than Clark had ever seen him.  It wasn't even disappointing when Lex snapped out of it with a sudden shake of his head, because the look was still there, though muted.  Even with Lex staring hungrily at his mouth instead of gazing deeply into his eyes.

"I guess we're going to have to try this again," Lex sighed, dragging his gaze back up to Clark's with a reluctant twist of his lips.  "Just please don't take it personally if I ruin the next person who walks in on us, okay?"

"I'll help you hide the body," Clark promised, grinning a little as Lex tried on his campiest villain face.

"Ah, so you can be corrupted...now I just have to think up a nefarious plot..."

"Tomorrow's Sunday..."  It probably wasn't fair to dangle the promise of a whole day before Lex...but as incentives went, today Clark was only interested in results, not fairness.  If Lex couldn't plot with the best of them, given the right motivation, Clark would eat the next Porsche Lex wrecked.

Besides, it was a joy just to watch Lex's eyes narrow like that, one corner of his mouth curving up as the light of calculation spread across his face.  "Sunday, hmm?  Tell me, Clark...do your parents know the meteor rocks make you sick?"

Fast worker.  But that was his Lex, all over.

So, his boyfriend was an alien.  Lex had been thinking that at odd moments ever since he'd laid eyes on the ship, but he supposed it bore repeating.  His boyfriend, Clark Kent, the local underaged poster boy for organic living, was an alien.

Hmm.  Try that from another angle.

He, Lex Luthor, freak extraordinaire, wanted to have sex with an alien.  Desperately.

"Since that probably falls under the heading of 'freak,' I guess I'm entitled," he muttered to himself as he sat slumped at his desk, staring into his glass.  It wasn't even ten in the morning yet, but the beautifully-aged scotch was only just distracting enough to keep him from staring at the clock.  And how bad was that--in less than forty-eight hours, he'd finally kissed the boy of his dreams, had it out with his dad, defeated a mutant with a single blow, and figured out all of Clark Kent's secrets, only to find out the boy was an alien.  Not human.  And apparently, that didn't matter one bit.

That said, Lex simply decided to stop angsting about it.  Human or not, Clark was Clark, and Clark was his--though it probably said something about him that it took an alien to make Lex Luthor fall in love.  A gorgeous alien with a cocksucker's mouth and shy, innocent eyes that looked at Lex like he was a person, not a name.  So maybe the alien thing was more a reflection on humanity in general, and maybe the alien thing was even a turn-on, because damn.  Who ever got to boldly go that far, anyway?

He, Lex Luthor, was the only man on the entire planet to have a sexy alien lover who wanted him for him.

"Eat your heart out, Ellen Ripley..." he toasted smugly and knocked back the rest of his drink.

He didn't even choke at the bark of relieved laughter from the doorway.

"God, Lex," Clark gasped, leaning against the doorjamb as his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.  "You do know you're insane, right?"

"It's been mentioned," he said with a shrug, unfolding himself from his comfortable chair and crossing the room as if he wasn't practically vibrating from anticipation.  Clark just shook his head, biting his lip as another round of chuckles threatened, watching Lex's approach with fond, grateful eyes.

"And here I was worried you'd be freaking out..."

"Luthors don't freak out," he deadpanned, which set Clark off again, and this time Lex joined him.  "Actually, it's...will it make me a freak if I say it's...intriguing?"

"Well," Clark offered with a grin, "you did just say you were entitled..."

Lex let his eyes narrow dangerously, but he found he was curiously...calm about the idea of being spied on for once.  He might have been able to write it off as the long-awaited effect of years of his father's prying, but for the nagging feeling that his comfort in this was terribly Clark-specific.  "Just how long have you been standing there, anyway?"

"Uh...long enough to be flattered?" Clark tried, giving him a hopeful look that begged indulgence.  I'm far too cute to kill, his eyes seemed to be saying, and Lex resignedly had to admit he agreed with them.  Especially the part where they suggested he take a nice, long look at Clark's mouth if he didn't believe it.  "I mean...you seemed like you were looking forward to...um, getting together, and..."

"Clark?"

Clark swallowed, his expression wavering between apprehension and a blinding grin.  "Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're here," Lex said softly, without even the memory of reservations between them.

"Me too."  Standing in the doorway--dressed not half so provocatively as the day before--Clark looked utterly normal in his jeans and flannel and melting smile, but it was how right he looked here that struck Lex the most.  Like the antique, extravagant edifice of the castle and all the money and power it represented was the part that was out of place and ephemeral, and Clark was the only thing that was real.  Like Clark had a place here, because Lex was here, and the setting might change but the fact of it would not.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Lex found himself grinning up at the younger man, the sense of belonging that revelation gave him sinking slowly into his blood.  "So...how did it go?  Your parents weren't too worried, were they?"

"No," Clark said with a smirk, looking proud of himself again.  "I didn't want them coming around checking up on me, but I did promise that I'd call after I got here.  They wanted to make sure I wasn't, you know, imposing or anything..."

"By all means, impose away.  Have a phone," Lex offered, leading the way into his office...and one hand slipped back out of his pockets of its own free will, almost reaching for Clark's before he realized how teenaged girl of him that would be.

Clark caught it anyway, twining their fingers with an easy possessiveness that lit something warm inside him he'd long since forgotten if he'd ever really known it.

There was just something right about Clark taking up a perch on the side of Lex's desk, the phone tucked between ear and shoulder as Clark spread his knees and pulled Lex close with a huge, sappy grin.  Something incredibly innocent about it, because Clark was big enough and strong enough that it should have seemed like a challenge, a power issue, hauling Lex up close between his legs like a drop to bended knees should be the logical next step.  Instead, Clark just smiled up at him, sweetly and contentedly, and hooked his fingers casually through the belt loops of Lex's slacks.  Just happy to have him near, and Christ, when was the last time Lex had taken that much time with anyone?  It was practically foreign territory, making him feel suddenly like the alien, but he didn't mind winging it.

"Hi, Mom?" Clark said into the phone, shivering a little when Lex slid his own hands down to Clark's hips and leaned closer, resting his brow against Clark's with a smile.  "Yeah, I'm at Lex's.  He says it's fine if I hang out here--I don't think he's done mourning the Ferrari yet, because he said he wasn't going to drive anywhere for at least a week.  Yeah, but it's true love, Mom!"

Holding his breath to keep from snickering where Martha could hear him, Lex shoved at Clark's head with his own and straightened with a grin.  Bastard.  And it probably should have worried him how well Clark lied--like this morning, telling his folks that he could still feel the residue of the meteors like a faint nagging headache that would be gone by dinnertime--but something told him they were past all that.  Coming clean with his own secrets wasn't going to be easy, but at least there wouldn't be any new ones.  He could count on that much.

"Yeah, maybe I'll try and get him to watch some car chase movies to cheer him up," Clark said, though the considering grin he was sporting seemed to rule out any possibility of television.  "I know, Mom, I promise--I won't be a nuisance.  Right.  Love you too.  See you tonight..."

Tonight.  That left hours before Clark had to be home, and Lex was looking forward to filling them.

Arching a brow as Clark hung up, Lex repeated, "In mourning for the Ferrari, Clark?"

"C'mon, I saw your face when you saw the dings," Clark reminded him, though he did look properly apologetic.  "And the slime.  Admit it--it's unclean now, isn't it?"

"You are so lucky I like you," Lex warned, running his hands up Clark's sides and wondering idly if indestructible aliens could be ticklish.  Grinning, Clark tugged him closer and unhooked his fingers, hesitantly sliding his hands around to Lex's back--

And it was easy to lean in and kiss him, without the hungry desperation of the second time or the pure sweetness of the last, more like that first, familiar rightness when it had finally just seemed time.  Like something inevitable, and he was almost glad they'd been interrupted every chance since, because now they could do it right.  No secrets, no questions, and no regrets.

Clark's breath caught as Lex's lips touched his, and his soft sigh of contentment sent a shiver down Lex's spine.  He was taking it slow this time, dragging his hands up Clark's chest to settle on broad shoulders, letting Clark find his own pace and not pushing at all.  It was worth the wait as Clark's hands began to move, slipping down his back and slowly gaining the courage to travel below the belt, cupping his ass to pull him just that fraction closer.  Lex thought they might both have groaned as he felt his cock settle in snug against a matching hardness, and he couldn't help a shallow thrust as Clark's hands tightened in response. Clark tensed, not with uncertainty but in a yes please more way that Lex knew would have them both sweaty and sticky and sheepish if he went along with it, but he had a better idea than that.

"Clark," he murmured against parted lips, a teasing tongue-tip nearly distracting him from everything else.  "Would you like to come upstairs with me?"

Clark's eyes opened slowly, dazed and already satiated, as if just touching Lex was enough.  Curiosity seeped into the younger man's expression as Lex's offer penetrated, but the only hint of nervousness Lex saw was so swiftly there and gone, he almost thought he'd imagined it.  Almost.  "Lex?"

"We'll do anything you want," he promised, meaning it.  "That's all.  But I want to see you.  Can I?"

"Yeah," Clark whispered, and Lex had to pull him upright, chuckling as Clark's limbs suddenly refused to cooperate.  Twining around Lex was apparently much more interesting than remembering how to walk.  So, Clark liked the idea of being seen, or maybe of both of them naked together, or maybe imagining what Lex would do to him upstairs in his bed.  Slow, he reminded himself, he was taking this slow...but he didn't just want to see Clark, he wanted to touch him, taste him, find out what kind of noises he made just before he came.  That couldn't be too much, could it?

"Nice," Clark muttered distractedly as Lex finally got him into the bedroom, and he suddenly couldn't remember if Clark had ever been here before.  It was just as obvious that Lex could have dragged him out to the garage by mistake for all the notice Clark would have taken, so he shelved that question as completely unimportant and tugged Clark gently towards the bed.

Clark was wearing his flannel unbuttoned again, and it slipped easily off his shoulders when Lex tugged at it, smiling permission as Clark's fingers began to fumble with his own shirt.  It was deep purple silk, and when he looked down, the contrast between its rich color and the deep gold of Clark's skin immediately inspired half a dozen schemes to stretch Clark across sheets that exact shade of violet at the next reasonable opportunity.

"Are you plotting again?" Clark asked out of the blue, and Lex glanced up to find him smiling with an odd sort of tolerance, or maybe pride--like his plotting was something charming instead of something to be feared.  In Clark's case, chances were good that it was.

"Just imagining what you're going to look like naked in my bed," he admitted, watching the blush that spread across Clark's cheeks and trying not to pounce.  He didn't even notice that he was shrugging out of his own shirt until Clark's eyes went wide with wonder and a warm hand came up to skate careful fingertips across his skin.

"Wow," Clark breathed, so sincere in his appreciation Lex didn't even have that familiar twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach this time, the one that waited for the questions to start.  Except for the lightest of down on his forearms, finer than a child's, his skin was completely bare.  It was something everyone seemed to be curious about, but no one had ever approached it with quite the same awe that Clark did, like Lex was something to unwrap instead of the most naked man alive.

Gentle fingers started just at his collarbone and drifted slowly down, ticklishly light, almost making a detour towards the tightening bud of a nipple before courage fled.  Lex would have let it go, but...Clark wanted to.  He could see it in the younger man's eyes, not quite sure how to ask permission for this.

"Clark," he murmured, catching the wandering hand and dragging it back up to where it wanted to be.  "Anything you want.  It's yours."  Laced fingers, his own thumb capping Clark's and urging it to circle, caress, as his breath went a little ragged in his chest.  Clark was touching him, and it felt so good, even this, just this.  More was going to kill him, and he wanted it, fiercely.

As those careful fingers gained confidence, Lex slipped his hand free and tugged at Clark's t-shirt, wondering if he could possibly get it over Clark's head without losing the touch of those hands.  One had settled chastely at his hip, but the other was fascinated by his nipples, rubbing and teasing and rolling them between his fingers, and God, Clark's expression when Lex arched into it, moaning aloud.  Too fucking perfect, and he pulled impatiently at the t-shirt again until Clark lowered his head and ducked out of it, and Lex tossed it aside--

And Clark didn't straighten, but dropped a hesitant kiss where his fingers had been, and smiled against Lex's chest when hands all but fisted in his hair to hold him there.

"Fuck, Clark--" he groaned, and he wasn't going to have to show this one much of anything, because enthusiasm could beat experience with a stick nine times out of ten.  And Clark was fucking eager.  "God, yeah...harder..." and there were teeth fastening delicately on his flesh and tugging, light and gentle, and it was exactly what he wanted, all of it.  "Bed...clothes," he corrected himself, and if he was already babbling, that was...a good sign.  Very good.

Maybe too good, because clothes--he sort of spaced out on that part.  Or maybe he hadn't really imagined the Whirlwind of Clark, but at the moment, he didn't care.  There was a bed under him and Clark beside him, and it was suddenly of vital importance that he kiss that tempting mouth again.  Incredibly easy to roll Clark onto his back and drape himself half over the younger man, with warm, strong hands traveling from his shoulders to his hips as he leaned in for that necessary kiss.

Still half-hesitant, the hands on his hips pulled him closer, and in a moment he was straddling a lean pelvis and rocking into a stomach like iron, Clark's hard cock like silk against his own.  This he had to see, so he pulled away, arched back and sat up, and...if anything, Clark had gotten more ripped and beautiful since that night on the cross, and Lex felt like his grin would probably terrify small children.  Not that he cared, because he was feeling particularly draconic, and this was his, and damned if he was sharing.  With anyone.  Ever.

"Fucking amazing," he breathed feelingly, sweeping reverent fingers over the broad, cut lines of Clark's chest.  Touch just wasn't enough, though--he had to taste--and the way Clark hissed and fisted the blankets they'd forgotten to turn back was absolute perfection, like the taste of Clark's skin.  //Slow,// he reminded himself, but it didn't seem to mean the same thing anymore...or maybe he'd always meant this subtle tease, his tongue tracing elegant patterns over bronzed flesh, mouthing wet kisses spiced with the occasional scrape of teeth all the way down to narrow hips.  So fucking good to hear Clark begging in whispers and moans when it was Lex who was getting what he wanted, all of it.

This taste, and Clark was leaking steadily now, so close to coming it was a wonder he'd lasted this long.  It wouldn't be fair to tease, not when he knew what Clark was waiting for--to feel Lex's mouth wrapped tight and wet and hot around his cock, swallowing him whole.  Wrapping his fingers around the base of Clark's shaft, he ran his tongue once over the head and down in a slick spiral, and when Clark thrust up helplessly into his mouth, he didn't even try to stop it.  He opened his throat instead, his own eyes closing as he heard Clark's startled groan, savoring it like the taste on his tongue.  When Clark forced himself still, Lex almost moaned himself, though some part of him knew it was all too new for Clark to let go and fuck his mouth like he wanted--so he did it himself, wanting it to be good, wanting fantastic, because it was the first and it was Clark.

And when Clark came with Lex's name on his lips, he knew that this was what he was going to remember of this weekend years from now, not the half-humorous disaster of the frogs or besting his father, but the feeling of rightness he got from knowing Clark was, at this moment, completely content.

When Clark tugged him up a moment later for an aggressive cuddle, the demand of his own need seemed strangely distant as he relaxed into Clark's arms, grinning fiercely.  At the moment, it was more fun to listen to Clark babble and weigh the pros and cons of asking Clark to stroke him off or asking the younger man to watch as he did it himself.  Either had...definite merits.

"Lex, that was...fuck...I mean...God, Lex..."

"Mmm.  Clark?" Lex purred, wriggling a bit until Clark was rearranged to his liking and fitting his head just beneath Clark's jaw.

"Yes?"

"We did it.  Finally.  We're alone."

"Yeah..."  Lex could hear the goofy smile without even having to look up.  His own grin was much more wicked.

"I give it five minutes before all hell breaks loose."

"Lex!"

Laughing, he let himself be silenced before he could jinx them further and reflected on the uses of patience and the brilliance of deviousness.  By the time he was finished scheming ways for them to spend more time alone together, he'd probably be able to give a criminal mastermind a run for his money in the art of the well-turned plot.

Luckily, he used his powers for good...

"Clark," he agreed when he remembered to breathe again, dreamily aware of rocking into a fist that wasn't his own and revising his idea of perfect.  Perfect was this, heat and the matched flex of bodies and laughing when he'd never even wanted to talk before, everything comfortable and easy and real--

And well worth the wait.

end