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Sixth Sense

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Sixth Sense

by Annie


Sixth Sense

By Annie

Rated: R
Disclaimer: Still not mine, d***it
Summary: Clark senses. Clark's POV of Obsession Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net

Clark knows full well he is an alien on this earth. Hasn't quite figured out exactly what this means, but he knows whoever, whatever, sent him here tried to do the best they could by making him human. Making him able to fit in. They did too good a job, Clark thinks most days, ruminating on the gifts with which he has been endowed. This super speed, super strength, apparent invulnerability. Well, except to the pieces of meteor he encounters here and there. This see-through-walls thing, which really throws him for a loop, and he tries not to even think about the firs he can start with his raging hormones, with a look. He has learned to control this fairly well, thankfully.

It's the senses that get to him the most. Usually, he has the normal amount of feeling, seeing, smelling, all that stuff. But sometimes, his senses are such an extension of himself that he can hardly contain the need to reach out with them. They're too exacting, too intense. It used to be only around Lana, and once in a while if Chloe was talking to him, but lately he has been totally unnerved by the extra reach his senses have developed around someone else. Around Lex.

Lex walks into a room and Clark's five senses are suddenly on high alert. Unbidden and off-balancing.

He doesn't need that x-ray vision with Lex. He's studied Lex long and hard, surreptitiously and not, and Lex doesn't seem to mind in the least. But he sees things other than the obvious, things that he thinks Lex doesn't particularly want him seeing. He sees how Lex always seems to gulp his favorite brandy faster and faster the longer Clark is in his presence during his frequent visits to the mansion. He sees that Lex's hands will tremble, just the tiniest, almost unnoticeable, bit if he doesn't keep both of them around the cup of whatever his drink of the day is at the Talon. He sees Lex move away from him sometimes, walk around behind his desk for no apparent reason, or suddenly decide he should be playing pool, leaning over the table and shooting almost viciously.

He sees Lex's hands so tight on the steering wheel if they are in the car together, sees Lex's almost imperceptible lean toward the driver's door. Away from Clark.

He hears as well as he sees. Hears the minute catch in Lex's voice if Lana Lang is their topic of discussion. Hears the quickened beat of Lex's heart when Clark is near him, at the talon, in the mansion or the barn, in the car. Especially in the car. Clark wonders if Lex is one of those men who equates the performance of his car with his sex life, and finds his own heart beating a bit faster when they are riding together and Lex drives as if he's obsessed.

The thing that gets Clark the most though, burrows heavily into his being, makes his heart beat erratically, makes his cock hard, every single time, is the smell.

The first time it happened, the first time he realized what it was, reaching into his mind and triggering all his other senses, was at the mansion. Lex had been working, and he was glad for the interruption, he said, walking across the room to hand Clark one of his trademark blue bottles of water. The scent assailed Clark so suddenly he almost reeled from it, and he knew it hadn't been there until just that second. Sex. He smelled sex. He didn't even need sight to know Lex was getting hard. Lex's cock was hard. Lex smelled exactly like Clark did himself when he lay in his bed at night fantasizing over and over, touching himself, pleasing himself. Lex really had looked like he was working, so Clark got the distinct impression that he himself was responsible for this intoxicating scent.

He only has two senses remaining that need to be tested. Two more senses he wants to try on Lex, see if he's right, or if his alien/human feelers are totally out of whack.

He wants to touch Lex. He has touched him, of course, fleetingly, casually, but never just Lex's skin. Not since the bridge, anyway. Lex wears too many clothes to suit Clark. He wants to run his fingers across Lex's smooth skin, starting at his jaw and traveling all the way down, as far as Lex is willing to let him go. Wants to feel the hard heat of Lex in his hand, or somewhere else, and the thought makes Clark's heart pound, makes the blood rush through his body like fire.

He wants to taste Lex. Wants to taste Lex when he's not spitting up river water, when his face isn't so cold and clammy. When his lips are warm and crushed against Clark's. He wants to know if the tiny scar on Lex's mouth tastes just like the rest of Lex's skin, or if it's a tiny bit different.

His last sense, the little one in the back of his mind, the intuitive one, tells him Lex would let him. Tells him that maybe, with all these other things he can't help but notice, Lex would welcome it, wants it.

He can't take the reeling of his senses every time Lex is with him.

He really needs to do something about this.