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The sun is setting behind the forest in Smallville. Clark is walking home alone after lost his friends on the road.
He could run there and get there before nightfall, but the summer weather is so pleasant that he likes it. He decides to feel the summer breeze for a while before his little date that evening.
For some reason, he decides to extend the walk and heads for a side street off the main avenue. The dark path makes him tighten the straps on his backpack
He hears some noises behind the trash cans and accepts defeat for not quickening his pace, using his speed. His steps quicken enough to almost run.
A surprised sigh escapes out his lips when a man calls him from the shadows. He's standing under a streetlight there, cigarette smoke drifting around him, giving him an aura of mystery and, above all: distrust.
"pttss. Kiddo." The man doesn't let him get away when Clark pretends not to have heard his initial knock. The teenager's shoulders slump and he turns his head, neither approaching nor moving away.
Inevitably, he'd have to walk past the man to cross the alley. He drags his feet on the wet asphalt, finally getting closer. His brow furrowed tightly. "Yes?"
"Wanna some fun?" The man asks without much movement, just taking the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaling the last remaining smoke.
«Great, a pervert in town.» Clark can't help but think as he rolls his eyes and raises his hands, preparing to flatly refuse. The man in the shadows opens the leather coat that falls below his knees to reveal several things in clear plastic compartments, pills and other things Clark doesn't want to know what they are.
There's a small pink bottle there, more striking and eye-catching than the rest of the stuff. Clark doesn't think too long before asking. "What's that pink thing over there."
"Just put it in the drink. You can expect wonderful things for your girlfriend afterward." The man doesn't say the name directly; he offers the small container and places it in his outstretched hands, closing Clark's fingers as he withdraws his own. "Just a couple of drops will do enough."
When Clark looks up again, there's emptiness there, and beneath the streetlight, there's nothing but a soft cloud of bitter cigarette smoke. He blinks a few times to make sure he's not crazy—at all.–
He makes sure there aren't any other surprises along the way with his x-ray vision, and runs down the rest of the alley at super-speed, exiting the other side of town to begin his usual walk home once more.
Mental note: never stray from the usual path again.
The road becomes wooded, lonely, and the silence of the city fades gently into a murmur. Cars and trucks pass sporadically. Clark stands with his head down as he kicks a rock he brought with him a couple of miles ago.
His hands are inside his jacket, fiddling with the small pink glass jar that's bothering him. He's not sure what to do with it; the man didn't ask for anything in return; he disappeared like a ghost, and Clark doesn't really understand what he meant by wonderful things.
His mind moves to another thought: Lex Luthor.
He smiles without realizing it, and there's a pout on his lips right afterward when he notices who lost the small stone. Lex. His mind hasn't been able to focus on anything else all day; he's anxious about the dinner they'll both have that night.
Lex told him it would be more like a small get-together for the two of them to celebrate his new promotion at LuthorCorp. He's so excited about it; he's asked his mother to iron a shirt for him. The thought of it fills him with shame!
His father isn't happy with the idea, but he managed to get permission after doing all the farm chores for a week. His mother is unsure but definitely supportive; he heard her in the hallway talking to his father before bed.
He needs to get there before the sun sets over the horizon. He'll take a quick shower and then get ready for dinner. When he looks up, the sign for his home's entrance is just a few feet away. He gives it a quick glance to make sure no one is around before running off again at full speed unseen.
"Ma! Pa! I'm home!" Clark calls out to make sure his parents heard him. Martha's curls appear from the kitchen as she waves to her son.
The aroma of apple pie fills his home. Clark smiles softly as he kisses his mother on the cheek and drops his backpack, sliding it down his arm to the breakfast bar that divides the kitchen from the dining room. He leans lightly against the refrigerator as he silently watches his mother's precise movements.
The two remain silent for several minutes, enjoying each other's company without needing to say much. Clark has a reflex to look at the clock hanging on one of the walls, and the handles read 20 minutes to 8. A gasp of surprise escapes him and he runs upstairs.
His mother stops him for a moment when she speaks loudly. "What time will he be home, Clark?" His heavy footsteps on the steps stop, and he crouches low enough to see his mother's face from above, his eyes colliding with Martha's unreadable gaze.
"I don't know, supposed to be at 8 i guess?" Clark doubts his own words. Although Lex hasn't told him anything other than the proposal itself, he hasn't made it clear that he'll pick him up. He wishes he would; his father would be upset if he wasn't there to pick up him.
Martha nods gently and returns to the task of putting the apple pie in the oven. Clark only glances at her for a second before running to the bathroom. He needs to hurry if he wants to be ready in less than 10 minutes.
He manages to do everything necessary in less time than planned and feels proud when he's already dressed and still has several minutes to spare. He stands in front of the small mirror in his room as he straightens his wine-red shirt and subtly caresses his face. He decided at the last minute to shave just in case.
He bites his lip and pulls his hand away from his face as if it's burning, but he does. His cheeks tinge a childish pink as he thinks about he's doing too much just for Lex.
Lex. He's in his head again. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He discovered that he might like the older man relatively recently. It was a slip of the tongue, the first time he thought about him beyond their unconditional friendship that endured over the years. Inevitably, puberty would arrive with unexpected yearnings, but Lex was definitely more unexpected than anything else.
The last detail: he needs his watch. He doesn't usually wear it, but Jonathan made his arrival time very clear: no later than 11:00. He moves around his room to find the jacket he always wears, putting away the watch he found in his father's toolbox a few years ago.
When he blindly reaches in, he finds not only the metallic artifact but also the small pink bottle he brought with him that afternoon. This time he can investigate in more detail, getting close enough to read the small label attached to it; the letters are blurred and almost illegible. He carefully opens the lid and smells an overly strong scent of strawberries, combined with something that makes his nose itch.
He closes it again and holds it between his fingers, trying to come to a viable conclusion. The strange man said he should use it in a drink; he'll do it to satisfy the curiosity that's brewing in him.
He's so deep in his thoughts that the knock on his bedroom door startles him with fear. He can hear the voice on the other side: his mother calling him. "Clark? Someone looking for you."
Clark smiles as he quickly snatches his usual jacket from the bed, puts the small bottle in his pocket, and opens the door, excitement tingling his fingertips. Martha is there, unconsciously smiling at her son's smile.
Everything was more awkward than Clark would have liked.
Lex was in his living room for, probably, less than five minutes and he was the fortune enough to be alone with Jonathan. Clark heard only a few things they actually talked about, but it was definitely about him and how his father definitely didn't like the idea of a dinner so late at night.
The bald man barely spoke a few words, just enough monosyllables to participate in the scolding he was receiving. His head turned to find Clark on the stairs, who gave him a soft smile.
Before saying goodbye, Jonathan gently warned: He squeezed Lex's shoulder more tightly than necessary, whispering something Clark chose not to hear. And he hugged his little son with exaggerated overprotection, this time loudly telling him to take care of himself and to be on time for bed.
Clark and Lex laughed loudly inside the car and were able to change the mood between them again as they traveled downtown.
The drive is so short that Clark is surprised when he hears the Porsche's engine cut off and Lex pull up in front of the Talon. He pouts as the older man gets out to open the door for him. He wishes Lex would have driven around the streets more before arriving.
"A man like you shouldn't open the door for a farmer like me," Clark jokes as he gets out of the car and glances over his shoulder at Lex. He sees him hide a smile and shake his head in amusement.
The two enter the Talon together. The usually bright lights and more fun atmosphere at night turn into a more intimate and quiet restaurant. A few tables are occupied. Clark walks behind Lex, who moves confidently around the place as they look for the perfect table.
Clark distractedly bumps the man's back and lets out a gasp of pain when the tip of his nose hurts. Lex turns quickly, his hands automatically going to the teenager's cheeks to examine his face. He notices the expression of slight pain, and with a soft smile, he squeezes the boy's cheek.
"You're so distracted, that's weird even for you." Lex moves so he can offer Clark his spot on the chair, inviting him to sit there. The teenager shyly accepts the invitation, continuing to rub the bridge of his nose with a crooked smile.
"I guess it's hour." Clark smiles and finally composes himself, still scrunching up his face a little. His gaze searches for Lex, who is across from him. He loosens his jacket and adjusts himself slightly before sitting in the chair directly across from him. The low, warm lights in the room make everything unusually dark, but it's pleasant. The tables are lit enough to see a little further than your own hands. Lex raises his eyebrows curiously but doesn't look directly at Clark as he pretends to pore over the menu he knows by heart. He can feel the teenager's light blue eyes on him and his fingers humming on the table as he reads the paper.
Jazz music plays in the background, and there are fewer staff than during the day. Lex considers it a good investment to create an adult environment in a town filled with high school kids, just like Kent.
"What should we have to drink?" Lex asks gently as he closes the menu and sets it aside. He's now staring at the boy, analyzing and memorizing the small expressions he makes as he reads, also thinking about the question he asked.
Lex Luthor is no idiot. He knows himself better than anyone in the world. Spending so much time alone with himself has given him a complete understanding of who he is: so he knows that the attraction he feels for the boy Kent is completely immoral, filthy, and despicable.
He remembers the first time he arrived in Smallville a few years ago, knowing Clark, he would have assumed he might even be the same age. But nothing in his life is in his favor he should know that; it didn't take him too much to discover that there are too many years between them and that Clark is barely 15 when they meet for the first time after he saves his life.
Lex believes there is no one better than him at controlling and suppressing emotions, even desires that are inappropriate for a man like him. It is the only advantage he gives his father during his upbringing; it is also an art he has perfected over the years of his career in a world like that of millionaires.
For a long time, he managed to maintain his character: he supports and spoils Kent as if he were his own little young brother. Some actions inevitably led Lex to lock himself in the mansion to avoid the farmer for a while; his own thoughts stab him in the back, and he resorts to temporary aids to get back on the path he must follow. The right, moral, and natural path.
He has acquired many women over time, each one more beautiful than the last. A true Playboy for the small town of Smallville, crowned by the headlines in Metropolis. No one knows what, behind each woman, brought him to his bed, there's a desire; a fierce one born within him.
I have lived between the two ends of the sword for a long time. I have fucked beautiful women every night; I have spent too much time with Clark Kent every day. It was a viable option that had no future, a short-term solution that turned into torture over time. His father would be disappointed for his choices.
The breaking point was when a woman, even a little older than him, was there in his library: he doesn't remember her name. With wavy black hair and beautiful sapphire blue eyes, she was calling his name. Lex doesn't remember that woman's face because his mind could only see Clark Kent lying in his room with his sapphire eyes begging him for more.
He's a man who lives with the greatest of temptations; it's a daily test of his own will, but he holds himself back better than he initially thought possible. Lex is, above all, a very patient man who gets what he wants no matter how long it takes.
It's a philosophy of life he holds onto tooth and nail. A logical thought is to wait for Clark to: 1. Become 18. 2. Be, at least, bisexual.
Clark's constant attitude is a reminder of the different stages of life they're both in. Lex talks about companies, businesses, and women; Clark talks about school, his family, and friends. Clark's constant innocence, his childlike side of pouting his lips when he doesn't like something or getting so nervous in environments he's not used to, reminds Lex that he's a child. He's barely 16, and he won't never be able to erase that difference.
Lex lives with lust and reason on his shoulders like a heavy backpack he's carried with him since the day some kid with a savior complex saved his life on the riverbank.
"I think lemonade will be fine." Lex returns to the real world when Clark's soft voice breaks the silence between them. He doesn't know how long he's been staring at the teenager, but he smiles softly, nodding, and raising a hand to call one of the waitresses.
They both order something light for dinner; they have more to talk about than time for something sophisticated. "One lemonade and two glasses of white wine." Lex finishes his order and can see out of the corner of his eye the expression Clark has on his face; tender.
"Lex." Clark speaks immediately after the woman moves far enough away, leaning a little closer to keep the secret while he looks around. His brow furrowed as he hides his lips behind his hand. "Are you sure? I'm not supposed to, and..."
The bald man can't help but chuckle. He rests his chin on his hand and watches the teenager with amusement in his eyes. He gently shakes his head and also looks around. The farthest tables can barely see them, and for a moment he finds it extremely amusing. "You're with me," he declares confidently. "It'll just be for tonight, right?"
Clark narrows his eyes at Lex's unusual smile, but he chooses his battles and slumps his shoulders regretfully. He nods and is finally able to take off his coat. The sleeves slide down his arms and he turns just enough to hang up his jacket. He feels out of his element in a place like this.
A child in the adult section. He nervously taps his foot against the floor, overcome with anxiety but trying to relax with gentle breaths.
The atmosphere becomes pleasant when the appetizers arrive at the table and they both eat while catching up on their things. It's been a few weeks since Clark had seen Lex and almost missed him, listening intently to the exhausted sighs of the man's anecdotes in Metropolis. He admires Lex's exceptional ability to multitask. While he's talking, he also prepares Clark's appetizers so he can eat them. It's an automatic and tender gesture, keeping his hands busy at all times.
"So my dad's furious about it, but I don't really care anymore." Lex looks up from the small piece of salmon and cheese toast he gently places on the teenager's plate. He smiles, almost a grimace that's hard to maintain when he meets Clark's kind blue eyes, which gaze intently at him. A silent deer. "What about you? You haven't visited me in a while either."
Clark laughs softly as he nods in defeat at the scolding, before taking a small bite of the food he'd been served. He lets out a satisfied sigh when he's finished eating. He sees a smile on Lex's face, notices his face tilted slightly as he watches him. His arms are on the table, clasped close to his chest. The posture of a true businessman, but that's not what Clark truly sees in him.
The slightly hunched posture, the genuine smile on his lips, and eyes that scan everything carefully. He's not the cruel businessman for everyone, even his parents, thinks he is. Lex has shown him that he's more than that, more than his father's legacy.
"I think I'm okay." He thinks about his answer a little more, licking the crumbs on his lips and staring up at the ceiling, trying to remember the last time in his life. "It's really not that interesting. I helped Pa with things around the farm. Chloe asked me for help with a report on another strange event, so we were busy with that."
Lex nods understandingly, not interrupting the anecdote because he knows how easily distracted the teenager is. They're both too engrossed in the conversation that fills the gaps of silence throughout the room. They share laughs that echo throughout, and they have to force themselves to keep quiet.
The dream bubble bursts when Lex's phone rings in his suit jacket pocket. The man drops his head with a defeated sigh, letting out a small grunt of annoyance because he remembers how he made it very clear to his assistant that no one should disturb him that night.
Clark's first reaction is to straighten up in his chair and watch Lex intently, annoyed, as another demanding call rings again. He holds back an amused smile when the ringtone interrupts him just as he's opening his mouth to continue.
"I think you should answer. Twice in a row means it's important." Clark mumbles, trying to make Lex feel comfortable answering. He understands that the man is a busy man. Especially when his promotion is in the works!
Lex thinks for a second, and before the third beep, he answers with some suppressed anger. His secretary's voice is heard on the other end, letting him know that his father is on the line waiting for his answer. "Is the King of Rome."
Clark smiles, understanding the reference and knowing what Lex's father needs from him. The older man gently gets up from the table without taking his still-embarrassed gaze off the teenager. He bends down enough to speak while covering the microphone of his phone with his free hand. "Are you sure you'll be okay? I'm sorry, he's so insistent when he needs something."
The teenager nods like a small, trained puppy and gives him a short hand gesture so he can leave without feeling completely guilty. Although Lex hesitates for a moment longer, he eventually gives in, and before starting to walk toward the bar a few feet away, he says, "I'll have the food brought out when I get back, don't worry."
The sound of patent leather shoes echoes against the shiny ceramic floor; Lex's tall, elegant body walks in the opposite direction as he begins to gesticulate his words with his free hand. Clark can hear the occasional low curse coming from the man.
Suddenly, he feels self-conscious and lonely. He feels bored in the silence of the restaurant, which barely contains the hum of other voices, and the music playing in the background isn't his favorite. He rests his cheek against the palm of his hand, bored as he strokes the wine glass waiting for him there.
An idea comes to him. He slowly stretches his arm so he can slip his hand into his jacket pocket, feeling blindly and trying to remember if it's there. And it is. He holds the small pink bottle between his fingers again, doubting his own actions, curiosity pricking at the bottom of his gut.
He does so, opening the bottle, which momentarily releases the scent of strawberries and something truly spicy. He sneezes again as he pours the liquid into Lex's glass, and the small drops turn into something a little ... not that much. He's startled, and regret sinks deep into him.
Before he decides to move the glasses, footsteps are heard coming toward the table. He quickly looks up and holds the small flask tightly; he hides it in his hand.
"Did I take too long?" Lex asks gently, sitting back down on the cold chair and smiling at the teenager, curious about Clark's sudden nervousness. He gives a short hand signal, and in a blink of an eye, the main courses are already on the table.
Clark quickly shakes his head and smiles, showing his teeth. He needs to avoid as many questions as possible and put that small flask away somewhere. Before he can move further to try and erase the marks of his mischief, he sees Lex holding his wine glass while raising it in his direction.
The teenager's eyebrows furrow and a grimace appears on his face. The dismay of his expression makes Lex laugh. "Aren't you going to cheer for me, Clark? My father called me to make the final arrangements for the promotion."
The blue-eyed boy opens his eyes in surprise, and a genuine smile transforms his face. He immediately raises his glass to toast the older man, who has a ego-centered grin on his lips. The subtle sound of clinking glass makes them lock eyes for a moment before raising their own glasses to their mouths. Clark looks away as he takes the first sip of wine; immediately afterward comes a wrinkled expression of disgust.
"Too much? You haven't even tried a red wine yet." Lex mocks him sarcastically, watching as Clark moves as far away as he can, still tasting the residue on his tongue like a cat. He plays with the wine in his own glass, moving it as he speaks while watching the almost transparent liquid move from side to side. "You'll do it with me too. You can come over to my house for a wine tasting."
"Alcohol and I aren't exactly friends yet," Clark confesses gently, watching closely the way the liquid flows down Lex's throat, his Adam's apple moving subtly as he swallows. He clenches his hands into fists beneath the tablecloth and bites the inside of his cheek.
He needs to know what its effect is; it was a bad idea to try it on Lex and not his own glass. He didn't notice anything strange, in his opinion.
"I remember that at your age I'd already tried my father's whiskey several times." Lex hides a childish laugh behind the last sip of wine. But reality falls on his shoulders like a dead weight; of course. Clark is a child; he won't drink alcohol until he's 21, and with his parents there, damn. The little age difference. His shoulders slump and his mood wavers at the moment. "Those were different times, I suppose."
"You talk like you're an old man, and you're not." Clark encourages him, swallowing the mouthful of meat he brought to his mouth. The blood from the meat leaves a velvety red on his lips, and Lex can't help but lick his own when he looks up and sees the spectacle of what Clark is in his eyes.
Lex plays with his food and fork, laughs softly, and shakes his head. "I'm an such old man next to you, Clark."
A small sound leaves Clark's mouth, another childish pout he makes when someone starts to disagree with him. A spoiled brat through and through, Lex raises both hands in surrender, letting out another laugh at his reaction. "Well, not that much. We're friends for a reason, right?"
This time Clark nods confidently, and with his fork pointed in Lex's direction, gives his final judgment. "If you were any older, my father wouldn't have allowed you to be my friend. So now it's perfect."
"Your father wouldn't have allowed me to be your friend, no matter our ages, silly." Lex raises an eyebrow in amusement and some confusion as well. He can see that Clark is at a loss for words when he stuffs a large piece of food back into his mouth. The corners of his mouth are slightly dirty, and his lips are still tinged pink of the blood, but he's genuinely entertained, observing everything around him.
The atmosphere of their bubble is reborn; they're once again immersed in their own world. Clark has regained his usual contagious energy; the food has reactivated his boisterous personality, so he can't stop talking about his latest adventures with the school newspaper and the practices he usually has with the football team. Lex listens to every word with special attention, occasionally making sarcastic comments when Clark becomes irrational in his anecdotes.
Time goes trough their hands; Lex is getting hotter and hotter, which is unusual for him. His body is naturally cold, but now he's almost sweating as he simultaneously maintains a conversation with Clark. He feels uncomfortable, and the more he stares at the teenager in front of him, the more thoughts crowd his mind.
Clark laughs with rosy sweet cheeks, his eyes narrowing when he smiles, and his head tilting slightly when he speaks. Lex wants to start a trail of wet kisses there; he can see them marking his neck, and he needs to mark them with his mouth. To lick, to suck on the pale skin within reach.
Clark is such a puppy behaved at this point. He needs to own that gigant puppy for his own dark fantasies.
The food loses all taste and flavor when he begins to notice the pearly glow of Clark's skin under the dim lights; he can see the shining skin hidden by his shirt. His hands, with their long fingers and defined veins, vanish beneath his sleeves. Lex is entranced; he wants to observe everything. To contemplate Clark's body like a work of art.
His participation in the conversation diminishes when he starts to feel confused. He's getting fucking horny out of nowhere. Lex barely drank alcohol that night; just the glass of wine for the toast, and he needs much more than white wine to end like this. He feels uncomfortable, searching for an ideal position to avoid feeling his erection grow inside his pants the more he stares at Kent's plump, pinky lips.
Lex frowns and surreptitiously takes his pulse, placing two fingers on his wrist as he listens to Clark's soft voice talking to him about something no more important than his disheveled hair and the tender curl falling on his forehead. His pulse is racing, and the heat and the growing arousal in his pants are confusing him beyond belief.
He's going crazy if he hear once more the way Clark murmurs his name with his fucking doe-eyes looking at him like he's everything for him.
Clark, for his part, can't notice anything other than Lex trying to focus her dilated pupils on him. He's deeply immersed in his anecdote about Chloe's unfair dismissal last week because of Principal Knwan.
One of the waitresses approaches them both to let them know they're about to close. There's a pout on Clark's lips when it's time to leave; Lex smiles softly when he sees the teenager's saddened face. He reaches out to stroke his cheek with his thumb after making sure no one is around.
"We should go back, your father will be waiting for you at home," Lex whispers softly, bites his lip hard, and takes a deep breath as he stands up from his seat. His painful erection is still in his pants and is overly sensitive; he needs to get away from Clark as soon as possible before he does something stupid. Really stupid.
"I was enjoying it." Clark is too sad to notice the awkward movements and the excessive number of times Lex adjusts his pants and clothes while he puts his jacket back on. He feels slightly dizzy from the wine; although he didn't drink the whole glass, he knocks down much harder than that was supposed to. They both walk toward the exit. There's no one else but the two of them and a few employees who are in charge of closing the restaurant. Lex took a moment to pay the bill, gently nudging Clark from behind his waist, telling him he could go ahead and wait for him outside.
Clark obediently does so, leaning gently against the hood of Lex's gray Porsche as he waits outside. The streets of downtown Smallville are empty, the streetlights the only light left, and an almost absolute silence all around.
He takes a moment to think, closing his eyes as he enjoys the cold breeze that gently caresses his pinky cheeks. Clark reflects on the evening; he enjoyed it immensely and really doesn't want it all to end. He knows that tomorrow Lex will leave to Metropolis, and there will be no more afternoons at his mansion, no more exclusive interviews for the Torch.
It saddens him, losing a friend and a kind of impossible love to him. He presses his lips tightly at the thought of Lex becoming distant over time; Even though they could visit each other, it won't be the same as living together regularly in Smallville and the slow life of a small town.
He also thinks about the pink bottle clinking against his father's watch in his jacket pocket. He still feels guilty for having done it, but also feel scammed because he didn't see a radical change in Lex at any point.
"Clark." A whisper against his ear, the breath warm and the voice low, causes the teenager to let out a small grunt of surprise as he feels Lex's cold hands surround his hips; he can feel the tips of his fingers touch him subtly.
When he opens his eyes, he can see Lex's head resting against his shoulder and chuckles softly, resting his hands against the older man's chest to complain. "You scared me, silly."
"Mmh. You look so peaceful here. But we should go." Lex speaks softly against his ear, sending a tingle through Clark's entire body. He feels trapped between the car and Lex's warm body, like a blanket for the cold outside.
Clark gently slumps his shoulders and nods slowly, gently pushing the bald man so they can both move and climb back into the convertible. But it takes Lex a moment to react; he feels his hot, subtly agitated breath against the skin behind his ears. "Lex, I thought..."
"Yes, yes. Let's go before your father kills me." Lex slowly and heavily detaches himself from Clark's body. He doesn't look him directly in his eyes, but quickly checks the watch on his wrist. They have just enough time to reach the hour Jonathan allowed Clark to stay outside.
They both enter at the convertible; the loud purring of the engine fills the peaceful silence of the streets, replaced by the eager engine of Lex's sport car. Clark always chuckles quietly when the speed slowly increases and feels his body sink slightly against the leather seats.
"I'm going to miss you," Clark says aloud, not turning his face to speak to Lex. The music from the radio interrupted the silence between them; his gaze is fixed on the window as he watches the city recede behind them and, with the seconds ticking, move deeper into the woods.
"Clark." Lex calls him, and it's enough for the teenager's light blue eyes to tell him the man driving next to him. "I'll miss having you with me too."
Clark's cheeks turns pink, but it's imperceptible in the darkness of the car. The engine roars, the speed increases; Lex has one of his hands on the handlebar and the other on his own leg, moving anxiously over his thigh.
"What do you mean?" Clark dares to ask, swallowing hard. His entire body is facing Lex's direction, and the world fades when he starts paying more attention to him.
"Having you, Clark." Lex repeats as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, his gaze fixed on the road in front of him, but he can feel the teenager's gaze. He smiles defeatedly and averts his eyes for a moment to appreciate those blue eyes one last time. "I would have loved to have you completely, but I'm happy having your loyal friendship."
Lex bites his lip at his words, letting out a nasal laugh when there's no immediate response. He's going crazy; the proximity and darkness of the car aren't helping his little problem. Clark's scent is increasing; his perfume is still clinging to his nose.
He adjusts his pants with his free hand, continuing to hold back as much as he can, a great effort that's leaving him exhausted.
"I'm happy being your friend too, Lex."
The interior of the car falls silent for the rest of the drive; the speed increases, and the trip becomes shorter. Clark wants to scream at the injustice, even though he feels dizzy and confused by everything, he wants to keep Lex by his side a little longer, trying to prevent morning from coming so he can leave. "Stop a little before we get home," Clark orders softly. Lex slowly slams on the brakes to stop a few meters from the entrance to the Kent farm. He feels blood inside his mouth; he's truly committed to doing nothing until he figures out what caused his sudden behavior.
"What happened?" Lex slowly stops talking, and the question hangs between them. Clark unbuckled his seatbelt so he could stretch far enough to reach the corners of the older man's lips. He placed his hand on Lex's lap for stability as he moved.
It was a short, resounding kiss, reverberating in all directions. Clark returned to his seat just after they separated, fastening his seatbelt once more. They both remain silent; it takes Lex too long to recover from his trance.
The Porsche slows down for the first time, and soon they're right in front of the Kent family's door. Martha and Jonathan are in the loft welcoming their son.
Lex doesn't get out, for obvious reasons. He decides to say goodbye to everyone from inside the car, rolling down the window just enough to reveal his face. "Thank you for everything, Mr. and Mrs. Kent."
The gray sports car moves again, and the red taillights disappear as quickly as they arrived. Martha and Clark are inside now, but Jonathan decides to take a deep breath before speaking to his son.
With a frown and crossed arms, he enters his home. Clark is just climbing the stairs when he begins to speak. "We're not worthy of a polite goodbye, i see. I couldn't be less of a son of a Luthor."
"John." His wife's voice calls out from the kitchen like a scolding. "Maybe he's in a hurry; he only has a few hours to get everything ready. Right, Clark?"
Both adults watch their son from below, noticing the furrowed brows on his face and the anger beginning to cloud his soft features. "Don't say that, Dad. He's not like his father. I've told you so many times."
"Son, if he can't say goodbye to us properly after we gave him more than a Luthor deserves, saying goodbye wouldn't have been that much of a chore." Jonathan speaks, and although he seeks his wife's gaze for support, Martha keeps her lips pressed into a thin line.
There's no response; Clark's heavy footsteps are enough answer for his parents, and the loud sound of the door slamming shut from his bedroom. They both sigh in exhaustion. Martha speaks aloud before heading upstairs as well. They're both in their pajamas, and bedtime is already over: "You should know how much Clark loves him. Don't talk about him like that."
Clark gently leans his back against the closed door of his room. He heard his mother's words and her slow steps ascending the stairs as well. He bites his lip hard and begins to undress as he walks toward his bed.
He lets his body fall onto the comfortable blankets as he buries his face in the pillows, taking a deep breath, absorbing the scent of the fabrics. His head spins, and sadness overwhelms him once more.
He doesn't want Lex to leave.
He still thinks about his words, his own actions, the kiss before he left. It wasn't a goodbye kiss; he remembers the coldness of the older man's skin against his lips.
His mind wanders through his memories, his eyelashes brush the fabric of his pillows, and sighs escape his lips. His hands itch softly at the tips of their fingers.
He's not sure how long he's been buried between sheets and thoughts until the first beep of the phone echoes downstairs. Clark raises his head in confusion to look for the clock on the table beside his bed.
It was almost 1:00 a.m., and no one in their right mind would call at his home at this hour. He quickly gets up from his comfort zone and runs over before the third beep of the phone cuts off the call.
He has to lean against the wall and hold the receiver between his shoulder and ear, staying there silently, trying to make sure his parents haven't woken up. He speaks softly.
"Y-yes?" The answer takes a while to arrive; Clark can barely hear a breath on the other end.
"I knew you'd pick up." Lex's voice on the other end sets off all the alarms in Clark's head, but he can't help but smile and squeeze the receiver tightly in his hands.
"Lex." Clark's happiness is suddenly interrupted by curiosity. "What are you doing calling so late? You left my house a while ago."
"I wanted to talk to you, Clark." The man's words gently soften the tone and make him sigh with happiness; it's almost as if Lex himself has read his thoughts.
"I've been thinking about you." The teenager's voice is soft, like a murmur as he plays with the cord that connects to the base. He still hears the labored breathing on the other end; even Lex's voice sounds different, intimate and deep.
"Do you?" Clark is sure Lex has that mocking smile on his face now. "What were you thinking, Clark?"
"How much I'll miss you when you're gone." Clark almost whispers into the receiver and leans back against the wall, feeling his cheeks flush with heat. He hears a sound on the other end, like a soft, almost imperceptible growl.
"I've been thinking about you too, Clark," Lex confesses after several seconds of silence. "I wish I was with you again."
"Such a needy, Lex." Clark mocks and lets out a low chuckle, hearing the same response from the other end.
"Something like that," Lex says, taking several seconds to speak again. "I need you, actually."
"Me?" The teenager's eyebrows rise in surprise, and he bites his lips hard. Once again, he feels that knot of nervousness and anticipation forming in his stomach; the atmosphere changes as before.
"Mmh. Yes." Clark hears a grunt at that statement. He throws his head back, trying to form a coherent thought so he can respond, his own breathing hitching slightly.
The silence lasts longer than necessary. Clark isn't paying attention to anything but the heavy breathing in his ear, distant and with heavy sighs coming from Lex's lips. "Wanna come over?"
"We can watch the sunrise together," Clark offers again after a heavy silence. He's not sure if Lex is still on the other end of the phone because he can't hear anything now.
Lex arrived in less time than Clark needed to mentally prepare himself for the consequences of his actions.
The first and only sign needed was a small rock hitting his bedroom window. The teenager jumped, and a spring rose from his bed to open the window, peering down at Lex's body. He still wore his usual purple shirt and black pants, but he was more disheveled than he'd ever seen him.
There was no need for them to speak; a single glance was enough to understand each other.
Clark tiptoed down the stairs and, with complete success, managed to get out without the kitchen door creaking too much. He almost ran to Lex when he was waiting there with a gentle smile.
The teenager threw himself into his arms and was caught in midair in a hug that gave him a small spin. He was surprised by the strength Lex had in managing to do that, but he didn't give it much thought. The position makes his nose bury itself in the man's neck; he can taste the cologne on his skin directly, and he inhales it more than necessary to have a vague memory in the future.
"Let's go to the barn, they might see us here." Clark speaks in a whisper as Lex lowers him to the ground. His amused smile doesn't disappear, and he unconsciously reaches out to intertwine his hand with Lex's. They both run through the field, and Clark guides him to his loft—as if it were the first time Lex had been there.
They both laugh softly as they enter, and the wooden steps creak with their footsteps on the stairs. The smell of hay and earth fills the place. They stand near the window that reveals the starry night sky; the full moon is the only light illuminating the place.
Clark gently lowers his gaze when he feels a gentle squeeze on his hands and sees his fingers intertwined with Lex's long ones. He suddenly feels nervous, and at the slightest attempt to break away from his grip, Lex tightens his grip.
Their gazes meet in silence, the sound of the countryside filling the gaps; crickets and various insects create a symphony that can be enjoyed without a word.
"I don't think I ever said how much I love your eyes," Lex almost whispers; the closeness between them requires his voice to be low, intimate, and sincere. His free hand rises just enough to cup the teenager's face there, his thumb caressing his cheeks, which glow pink in the moonlight.
Lex can almost feel his heart skip a beat when Clark rubs his face against his hand, like a puppy needing affection from its owner. The teenager's blue eyes look up at him, expectant, bright, and pure.
Clark's dark curls falls across his forehead, unruly curls tickling his fingertips. Lex bites down hard on the inside of his cheek, and blood pools on his tongue, tasting hot and metallic.
"It's good you told me before you go." Clark lets out a small sigh after speaking, his expression relaxed, and he tends to close his eyes when Lex's thumb gently massages the flesh of his cheek.
His face feels warm; he's probably flushed, but he doesn't mind. None of this bothers him at all; Lex's gentle touch, his green eyes shining in the moonlight, his pale skin tinged with a childlike pink, the way his chest moves when he breathes, and the sound of his exhales.
Their bodies move a little closer, their hands still clasped, and Clark continues to receive Lex's caresses.
"I could never finish if I had to tell you everything." Lex hides a soft smile by pressing his lips together, tilting his head to one side in a movement mimicking Clark's.
"We have the whole night to ourselves." Clark encourages Lex; he wants to know. Everything; he needs to satisfy his curiosity about the man in front of him. Who really is Alexander Luthor?
Lex lets go of Clark's body, letting go of his hand and detaching himself from the teenager's cheeks. Everything feels cold for both of them right afterward. The older man takes a couple of steps back, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. He turns his body toward the window, letting out a breath of exhaustion.
Clark moves with him; his furrowed eyebrows frame the confusion on his face. He has another childish pout on his lips, almost feeling like his favorite toy has been snatched from his hands. "Lex?"
"I don't know why I called you. I shouldn't be here with you... considering how strange I am." Lex muses with his head down, burying his face in his shoulders and balling his hands into fists. He takes a deep breath and turns once more to start walking toward the stairs. "I should go. I don't want to do something stupid."
Clark stretches out his hand as far as he can, managing to grip the man's forearm firmly to stop him in his tracks. Lex doesn't turn his head to look at him directly, and that annoys him even more. "What the hell are you talking about? Lex, I'm here because I wanted to."
"Clark, I really need to go before I do something that will punish me for the rest of my life." Lex's response is almost a growl, but he doesn't move. He glances over his shoulder at the teenager and meets those doe eyes again, his brows furrowed, his lips hesitantly trying to form a sentence.
"Please stay," Clark pleads, frustrated by Lex's constant mood swings toward him. He clings even tighter to the man's bicep, trying to tug his clothes closer. "This is our goodbye, isn't it? Stay."
The silence hangs between them, and a defeated sigh escapes Lex. "Yeah, I'll stay." In a swift movement, the man's body moves, his hands agile and his feet moving deftly. In a few seconds, he pulls on the arm holding him so he can pull the teenager's body against his own.
A squeal of surprise escapes Clark when, in the blink of an eye, his chest is smacking against Lex's. Their gazes are locked; he can see the dilated pupils in those green eyes, and he smiles innocently when he notices; Lex smiles back.
"That'll be my goodbye kiss," Lex whispers against Clark's lips, staring into the trembling sky-blue irises. Their lips brush subtly, and he feels Clark's heavy breathing against his skin. His hands grip tightly around the boy's waist as he digs his fingers into the tender flesh.
The kiss begins soft and slow; Lex barely moves his lips against Clark's. He lets out a sigh that he doesn't know he's holding back.
He hears small sounds coming from the teenager as he begins to set a slow rhythm. The smacking of his lips is low and wet. He subtly licks the dark-haired man's full lips. He feels his body tremble, melting in his hands like ice cream.
Clark barely keeps up with the rhythm, moving his head to try to deepen the kiss and stealing a mocking smile from Lex as he does so. His hands rest against the older man's chest and he bunches his purple shirt into a fist.
The good times are short-lived, and Lex slowly pulls away from the kiss, listening to Clark gasp for air even with his eyes closed, noticing his red cheeks and his head tilted tenderly.
Lex's head is a mess, and all rational thought evaporates like a hazy mist that leaves no trace but the pain of his throbbing erection inside his clothes.
His hands tighten around the teenager's body, digging his fingers into the fleshy skin he can hold onto before he blindly drops onto the couch behind him. They both bounce slightly and laugh in complicity when the wood creaks loudly.
Lex arranges Clark on his lap, feels the teenager's thighs surround his body so easily that now he's the one trapped there, under the farmer's watchful, curious gaze and dilated pupils.
"Don't go, Lex, please..." Clark whispers, his body leaning over the adult, his chest rubbing against Lex's as he speaks, his lips almost touching the man beneath him.
"I'm not leaving yet, Clark." Lex's green eyes move down the other face, fixed on the full pink lips that are available to him. He doesn't hesitate to kiss the dark-haired man's lips again, slowly, enjoying the small sounds of surprise Clark lets out every time they kiss. Lex's hands rest gently on Clark's flexed thighs, leaving slow caresses with his thumbs along the inner area. He can feel the full weight of Clark's body right on his erection; he keeps from letting out needy moans when the teenager begins to move in his own discomfort and rising heat.
They kiss more than necessary; the smack of their releases meeting their swollen, red lips. Lex is obsessed with the sighs Clark gives him every time he bites his lips hard; he can feel his body throb with anticipation and heat.
Lex needs more, so much more. Everything Clark can offer him.
His lips move, move down, and slip over the skin of Clark's cheeks, kissing with such devotion and tenderness that the teenager sighs shakily. Lex subtly bites the pale skin of Clark's neck, leaving his mark accompanied by licks and sucks.
"Oh—Lex." His name spills from the teen's lips like warm honey, filling every space in his mind, and he falls under an effective spell when he feels Clark's hips begin to grind against his body.
Lex growls against his skin, bites harder, and makes sure to leave a noticeable bruise behind Clark's left ear. He licks the shell of his ear before speaking. "You're doing good for me, Clark." He only receives a high, drawn-out moan in response.
He feels the teen's fingers dig into his shoulders through his clothes; everything feels uncomfortable against his skin; sweaty and uncomfortable. He needs to release the pressure as soon as possible.
Lex's fingers move restlessly beneath the white T-shirt Clark is wearing, slipping just enough to touch him gently. "Don't forget me, Clark."