Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.
Frustration
Lex slammed through the door to his media room, taking no notice of how all the fragile glass and expensive equipment trembled. Clark had just left; another argument, more accusations and beneath it all the constant undercurrent of lies. With angry fingers Lex flipped switches blindly, turning on the lights, the television and the stereo, flooding the room with incoherent noise and glare.
It couldn't blot Clark's hateful words, or the twisted expression in his face as he'd uttered them, from Lex's mind's eye.
Lex never wanted to live in the past, but as he leaned over the windowsill and looked out into the rainy evening he couldn't help a pitiful wish that they could go back to the way things used to be: when Clark came through his door in friendship, when they shared careless hours and meaningless conversation that, truth be told, had really meant the world. Lex wished he didn't have those memories to whisper to him now when he was alone. It didn't matter how he turned up the volume; he could not drown them out.
The worst part was knowing that beneath the rage and frustration, he still felt the same. This, though, was frustration of a different sort; Clark still tempted him. Though they had exchanged jokes and furtive smiles for barbs and glares, each time Clark stormed out of the study he still left Lex thrumming with desire.
He had never been able to bring himself to test those waters with Clark; some sentiment, perhaps love, for their friendship had made him hesitate. And now, given the inevitable nature of their spectacular collapse, it was clear he would never know relief at Clark's hands.
He could close his eyes and imagine, but it did nothing to blunt his hopeless yearning.