He understood it was an unusually wet spring. It was something he'd heard repeated around town and by several of his employees. Lex normally wouldn't have particularly cared what the weather was doing, but living in a farming community made him more aware of it. Falling for a farmer didn't help either.
Not, Lex thought, he very often thought of Clark as a farmer.
The weather prevented planting, leaving Clark an unusual amount of free time on his hands, time which he was spending with Lex when he could. Regrettably spring was also the busiest time of the year for persons in the business of making fertilizer. Lex had quotas and deadlines to meet, making his time more limited than he would have liked.
Lex may not have noticed the weather had he been living in Metropolis for another reason as well. The "castle" lived up to its name, and when the weather was less than ideal it was cold and damp and dreary, unlike his modern penthouse apartment. To compensate Lex cranked the furnace and had a fire going in nearly every room. The whole mansion stunk of wood-smoke.
Except of course, in his room.
It was the romantic in him, he supposed, that led him to light candles. The white pillars of varying heights placed across the windowsill and on his dresser filled the room with a pale golden light. They were scented. Normally he chose something subtle, something slightly musky and masculine, or spicy like cinnamon. This time he'd chosen vanilla, its scent reminding him of times spent with his mother at the Luthors' Montana ranch. There Lillian had gone back to her more domestic roots, cooking for the family herself. Vanilla flavored sugar cookies were a specialty, and Lex's favorite. They had been sweet and flavorful, with no need for icing or chocolate dips, lovely in their untainted simplicity.
One of the first times he'd kissed Clark he'd been startled by the familiar taste of vanilla exploding in his mouth, the result of Clark stopping for a capuccino before meeting him. He supposed he should have almost expected it. Clark gave off the impression of sweet purity. Clark was like those vanilla cookies; seemingly plain and unexciting, but hiding an intricate blend of flavors within. He made Lex's mouth water, among other things.
Lex finished lighting the candles and blew out the long fireplace match he'd used for the task. It had been a long day, and he was tired, too tired to do much more than toe off his shoes and remove his tie, as if the candle lighting had leeched away his remaining strength. The bed beckoned. Lex submitted to its call, lying down upon the crisp, white sheets. They smelled of some floral scented laundry soap. Soon they would smell of vanilla and Lex's cologne.
He sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. He hated his father as much as he loved him. No, strike that, as much as he wanted to love him. Lex had been rebelling against Lionel almost all his life, and a rather simple, if somewhat risque lifestyle had come to a crashing halt when Lex got kicked out of college.
"If you aren't going to be a respectable member of society on your own," Lionel had growled sweetly, "Then I will make you a respectable member of society. "
First stop, Smallville, Kansas, meteor capital of the world.
Lex hated Lionel for disrupting his life, and continuing to control it, but he was indeed becoming a respectable Smallville citizen, and he'd discovered he sort of liked it. In the Smallville fertilizer plant Lionel saw a very poor profit. Lex saw what kept Smallville thriving. Thousands of people depended on the plant to keep them alive and well. Luthor Corp. kept hundreds of families fed, clothed, and with roofs over their heads. Lionel knew his son well and had planned accordingly, killing two birds with one stone. Lex would not let the plant fail, not as long as the town depended on it, and through his dedication to that task he would ultimately produce better profits.
Lionel knew Lex would tie himself to the town emotionally, and Lex had, but not necessarily in the manner Lionel had predicted.
He let his hand fall heavily to the mattress but kept his eyes closed.
If the plant failed it would destroy Smallville. Lex would be blamed, and aside from the fact he would indeed feel horrible about it, he could not stand the thought of how it would make him look in front of the one person who's opinion really mattered.
Asking himself why he cared what a teenaged farm kid thought of him had led to some really complicated and uncomfortable thoughts of his own. He'd always fought against Lionel's constraints. One such constraint was Lionel's insistence upon emotional suppression. A man could not allow himself to be ruled by emotions or such a weakness would lead him to failure and ruin. Lex broke all the rules when he'd met Clark, and should Clark ever look at him with anger or disappointment, it would destroy him.
Lex resisted using the word love. It frightened him. How could he have fallen in love with Clark? When exactly had it happened, and why? They shared a lot of pain, he reasoned. Clark had certain air of loneliness about him; God only knew Lex was lonely. Clark made him feel comfort deep down inside where he'd not known such feelings since his mother's death. Clark touched Lex's heart with his shy smile and his sincerity. His mysteries gave him depth, made him seem slightly frightening too. He thrilled Lex on both a physical and emotional level. Was that how one defined love?
"Jesus," he whispered.
Startled, Lex lifted his head. Clark stood leaning in the doorway. The sight of him was so welcome Lex's voice failed him. He simply lay there staring at Clark as if he were seeing an apparition and Clark, with a faint smile, stared back.
"A very rough day." Lex said finally.
Clark made no further comment, but simply stood there with his eyes on Lex's prone form. Lex watched him carefully, somehow sensing they were poised on a knife's edge, and should either of them make the wrong move, they could get cut. Clark's eyes looked dark in the candlelight, almost as dark as his hair. The red of his shirt was muted to a dark, rich orange against gold tinted skin. He looked fey, wild, and slightly dangerous.
Something in his manner changed in that instant, so swiftly Lex barely had time to register it. It was Clark, but not Clark, and Lex wanted him badly.
Some events can't be planned, or if they are, never turn out as they should. Lex's romantic visions included candles. They included silk sheets. They had him educating a shy, inexperienced boy about sex, showing him that what he might have been taught was taboo, could be beautiful and right. Clark had balked once before. Lex would have to be careful with him, treating him with kindness and delicacy.
He should have known Clark would turn the tables on him. Clark foiled all his best laid plans.
Lex lay back on the pillow, tilting his head to the side as he watched Clark approach. He made no sound. Lex wondered if he were dreaming. Clark moved with a grace someone with his height and at his age, should not have possessed. His muscles flexed and flowed beneath his skin as he methodically shed his clothing. The candlelight highlighted the planes and curves of his body as he bent to untie his boots. Lex caught his breath as the well knit form he'd only felt before was finally revealed to his eyes.
He reached out a hand, and guided Clark down to the bed with him. They traded places. Clark wilted upon the sheets and Lex leaned back against the foot-board, settling at Clark's feet while he removed his own clothing. Clark never took his eyes from him, and Lex, never coy, was suddenly cowed beneath his stare. Looking over his shoulder at the open door, he dumped his clothing on the floor and got up to close it. Clark was still staring at him when he turned back around.
With the door closed the sticky-sweet scent of vanilla settled upon the room like a blanket. Clark lay basking in the shadowy light upon pale white sheets, the illusion of purity broken only by the desire in his eyes and his obvious arousal. His long, lean body lay stretched out across Lex's bed; nude, aroused, beautiful. Lex went to him and was pulled down unresisting. Beneath Clark's languid kisses the strength bled from his limbs.
It wasn't what Lex planned nor expected. Clark needed little instruction. He seemed to instinctively know what he needed to do and proceeded to do it. Lex lay passive, luxuriating in the touch of his hands and the warmth of his body. When he faltered Lex encouraged him with kisses, softly murmured words, and guiding hands. Clark was careful, but it had been a long time for Lex. He gasped at the first cautious push against his opening, struggled for breath as he was carefully prepared, pulled Clark down and held him before the final thrust that would bring penetration.
Clark's voice was filled with concern, and Lex had no words to explain how he felt, how he needed. Kisses became more frantic, harder, all panting breath and suction. Lex was hard against Clark's belly. He angled his hips and spread his legs further apart, pushing Clark up and back, and wrapped his hand around his erection as he pulled back his thighs, inviting entry.
He was obliged in one hard thrust. Clark drove down deep inside him, stretching him, filling him completely. Lex grew very still, letting the pain subside and his body relax once more. With a reassuring nod, he urged Clark to continue and Clark began moving very carefully. He sought a rhythm that would pleasure them both, mindful of Lex's comfort despite the urges that had to be setting his body aflame. The tempo of his hips gradually increased.
Lex rocked with him, quickly adjusting to the sensation of fullness spreading from his thighs, through his spine and into his belly. He stroked himself slowly in time to gentle thrusts of Clark's hips, matching the motion with his own, moaning softly through clenched teeth. Lex watched through half lidded eyes as Clark drew his legs up to rest them on his shoulders. Hands like steel bands wrapped around Lex's ankles. Sweat trickled down the sides of Clark's face. He closed his eyes.
It wasn't supposed to be like this, Lex thought frantically.
He threw his head back against the pillow, arcing his body up from the mattress as Clark thrust into him, grasping a fist-full of the bedding in his free hand when pleasure became pain. Clark wasn't supposed to be moving as if he'd been doing this, as if they had been doing this, for years instead of mere minutes. His strokes were sure and unfaltering, long and deep, hitting just the right places inside to make Lex writhe and moan beneath him. There wasn't supposed to be this total loss of control. Lex wasn't supposed to be whimpering and crying out for more. Those were things he made others do.
But he was, he was. His hand slipped across the shaft of his cock. His palm was damp with sweat and a smear of precum. He jacked in time with Clark's thrusts, moaned when Clark nearly withdrew completely, and gasped when he sank down into him again. It wasn't enough. It was too slow, too carefully orchestrated. His voice was gravel upon gravel as he tossed his head back and forth, crying out to whatever god granted sexual favors.
More. Harder. Faster. Hurt me. Make me come.
The walls closed in. Light blurred, and sound roared. The thick, musky scent of sex and sweat mingled with the sweetness of vanilla, filling his senses. Lex's body slipped against the silk as Clark's hips ground down in a series of nearly brutal lunges, forcing him to reach up with both hands to brace himself against the headboard. He pushed back hard, his arms trembling. His hips jerked. He came untouched.
Clark gasped. From beneath the sound of his labored breathing there came a soft keening whine. Lex felt him shudder. His thrusts became short and quick, out of his conscious control. The sound of his voice lowered, burst out of him in short grunting moans as his body quivered, then rose in a loud, inarticulate cry as climax obliterating his reality to nothing but primal pleasure.
Lex watched him come, admiring the flow of his body from the place where they were connected up to the curve of his throat. His hair was plastered to his face in damp, curling tendrils much as it had been when Lex once opened his eyes and saw Clark's face for the first time. He was just as beautiful as he'd been then, perhaps more so in this context, when their bodies were merged, entangled in rapture.
Clark's mouth hung open as he sucked in air with heaving gasps. His lips were flushed with the heat of desire, appearing red and luscious like some forbidden fruit. Long dark lashes brushed his cheeks. Light flickered across his chest, glinting off the sweat running down between hard, swollen nipples Lex longed to suck, but reached up to rub and twist instead. Clark moaned at the sensation it produced. He gave one last shudder, and opened his eyes.
They were full of tears that started to fall in earnest as he withdrew and Lex eased out from beneath him. A hasty cleanup and they were wrapped around each other beneath the silk, Lex's trembling fingers pushing back sweat dampened hair from tear soaked cheeks. His words were nothing but soothing nonsense. His kisses were gentle, easing away the confused emotions that seemed to be tearing his lover apart.
Lex pressed the dark head to his breast and held on as tightly as he could, until Clark's sobs faded to sniffles. Gradually the rigid body went limp against him. He kissed the top of Clark's head as he felt his breathing settle into the gentle rise and fall indicative of sleep, but realized Clark was not sleeping, yet, when he sighed.
"You okay?" Lex asked softly.
Lex's voice held a note of wry humor. "Why the tears?"
Another sigh, and this time Lex realized if Clark wasn't sleeping, he was pretty damn close.
"I didn't hurt you." Clark murmured. "Dint...hurt...." His hand caressed Lex's stomach, then went still.
"What?" Lex whispered. "Clark?"
He frowned. Clark was asleep. There would be no answer to the question, another one of many questions Clark could not, or would not, answer.
Lex lay staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep now with so much on his mind. How had this changed their relationship? What would happen next? Why had it wrung such an emotional response from the normally quite stalwart Clark? It was his first time, true, but...
Golden light flickered across the ceiling like the fluttering dance of pixie wings as a draft caught the candle flames. Lex smiled and twisted a lock of Clark's hair around his fingers, hearing once again Lillian's voice as she read to him by candlelight the story of Peter Pan. Clark always seemed to invoke memories of Lillian, and he did not know why, but Lex thought he would take it as a sign of her approval.
Closing his eyes, Lex breathed deep the smell of vanilla, and the faint soapy scent of Clark's hair. The soft sound of rain on the window and the steady in-out of Clark's breathing began to chase away the questions keeping him awake. He shifted a bit closer into Clark's arms. Clark murmured something unintelligible. Lex sighed.
He was no longer cold, nor quite so lonely.