A/N: I own none of this. If I did we'd all be in trouble.

I freely admit I am totally clueless about Smallville canon. I haven't finished Season 3 or seen anything else beyond that. So this is all AU, and gratuitously wordy too.

I still had fun writing it. Hope you have fun reading it.

Syllogism

"… a discourse in which, certain things having been supposed,
something different from the things supposed results
of necessity because these things are so."
~Aristotle

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
~Hamlet, I.v.

Beneath the goose down comforter, dupioni silk duvet, cashmere blankets and 1000-thread-count sheets, Lex Luthor was luxuriating not in sumptuous fabrics but in bare skin against his own.

The sensation was not a new one – far from it. The names of the lovers of Lex Luthor could fill volumes (and he would probably have found that just as entertaining as his Descartes, his Sartre, his Nietzsche). So this was not the first time Lex had felt the warm, solid presence of another body in his bed.

It was not even the first time it had been another man. Lex considered himself a connoisseur of many things – classical music, fast cars, fine wine – and the human form was no exception. He sought neither male nor female, only beauty … and since money could do nothing so well as attract the attractive, his bed was seldom empty.

It made little difference to him, the shape of the body beside him. Frankly, he sometimes didn't even notice.

But this time it was different.

Clark Kent made everything different.

For a start, nothing had even happened. Oh, words had been spoken, tentative fingers reached out, kisses exchanged and increased in intensity. The process of falling into bed had taken an exquisite eternity, each step through the cavernous mansion measured not in inches but in the number of bumped elbows and nearly-destroyed antiques as they fumbled through the halls joined at the lips. (What Clark lacked in subtlety he made up for in enthusiasm … whether youth or inexperience made him so, it was arresting and irresistible.)

How comical Lex's violet merino sweater looked entangled with Clark's red flannel on the burnished bedroom floor – though probably no more or less comical, Lex thought, than himself waking within the curve of Clark's arm. But despite shirts shed, little else had happened tonight.

This was not passion alone, inspired by liquor or simple physical desire. Their friendship, improbable and riddled with unspoken secrets as it was, had instead suffused that contact with an intimacy Lex had never felt before. He had never even, he now admitted in the safe confines of his own mind, allowed himself to think such a feeling was possible.

Perhaps it was in awe of it, then, that he had faltered, had not taken ruthless control with his usual intent of domination. No, tonight Lex had been content, for a few hours at least, to give up his own drive to pursue and possess and had simply allowed these inconceivable sensations – total acceptance, trust without reservations, affection without conditions – to overwhelm him.

Besides, so much of Clark's charm lay in his innocence; by firelight, it had seemed a sin to jeopardize it with roughness or haste. And Lex did not regret it now either, as he turned in Clark's arms to face and skim light fingers over his chest. It gave him such luscious moments to look back on and savor … and left some delicious possibilities yet open for the future.

And yet … something pricked at the edges of Lex's consciousness: a suspicion that he not been the only one holding back.

Even beneath the rich covers, Clark's skin felt unnaturally warm and drew Lex's admiring fingers like a moth to flame. Lex could not help but compare his own pale, sinewy form to Clark's tanned and muscled one … he had always believed himself handsome; the incongruous baldness aside, he was tall, broad-shouldered, leanly built. But Clark was something altogether different; his very size was nearly unbelievable and, sprawling in his sleep, took up most of the king-sized bed. His skin seemed to have its own radiance, and glowed nearly golden beside Lex's cool ivory.

As friends, they had always made an unlikely pair. But here and now Lex had to admit he found the contrast quite appealing.

Clark may have surpassed him in physical presence and strength, but Lex had the upper hand in other ways. Though he found Clark's boyish simplicity and optimism alluring, his own perspective was more … pragmatic. He was older, worldlier; there were things he could teach Clark. (He thought he would rather enjoy a number of them.)

He had just one concern.

Despite the recklessness of their recent behavior, Lex had detected a faint hesitation in Clark.

At the time he had brushed it off to Clark's inexperience, perhaps nerves; and drunk himself on the sensation of touch infused with complete trust, had not pressed matters. They had kissed and touched for hours, rolled playfully through the sheets and fallen asleep in each other's arms; but though they had completely broken the boundaries of friendship, things had remained relatively tame. Again, Lex had thought little of it at the time, preoccupied as he was; but as he reflected on it now he felt uncertain. Now that his head was clearer, he realized it had felt more like intentional restraint.

As a general rule, restraint was an excellent quality. In business matters and amongst society, it could be invaluable.

But as the fire burned low and Lex found his fingers once again tracing the contours of Clark's bicep, he found that at the present moment, he felt disinclined to value it at all.

When Clark woke …

Lex was in too deep now to pretend he hadn't been wanting all of this for some time. He was used to exposing himself physically while keeping his heart veiled; but in the last few hours he had been more naked than he had ever been before, clothes off or on. Clark had seen it – had even seemed to pull him closer because of it – and now Lex was cornered.

There could be no going back now. He would not allow it.

He could not remember exactly when his feelings for Clark had become more than fraternal … he was a Luthor after all; denial and repression came as second nature. So he could not pinpoint the exact moment when he realized that this unlikely friend, this strangely statuesque farmboy, had become his most secret fantasy. And it almost didn't matter now, how long he had known it, or the pains he had taken to disavow it, or the number or degree of all his failures. It didn't even matter what the sequence of events had been that had sent them tumbling into bed.

All that mattered was that Lex now had at his very fingertips something he truly wanted. He knew that he had been exposed; but the best way to deal with exposure was to swiftly seal the deal. So when Clark woke, he would.

Besides, he thought as he opened his palm against Clark's chest to marvel at the strong rhythm of his heart, he had waited long enough … and he was hungry.

As if Lex's touch was charged – was it? – Clark's eyelids fluttered once, twice, opened. Green eyes searched for and found Lex's face amongst the tangle of arms, legs and covers.

"You're awake?" His voice was huskier than Lex remembered.

"I was watching you sleep," Lex confessed.

"That can't have been very interesting."

"On the contrary."

A pause.

"Lex … I'm still kind of ..."

"Ineloquent?" A smile, unabashedly flirtatious. "I know. It's all right. It makes you you."

Another pause.

"I've never done anything like this before, Lex."

"Really? I'm shocked, considering how you ravished me … but then, I was helpless to resist your charms."

"Don't tease. I feel stupid and clumsy ... I don't know what to say."

Lex pressed a palm to each side of Clark's face, toying no more. "Then don't say anything." A kiss, gentle at first, but bound in only one inexorable direction. "Just touch me."

"Lex ..."

A beat, blue eyes boring into green, and for a moment, Lex was afraid. "Am I … assuming too much?"

"No." This time Clark initiated the kiss, and took his time about it too, as if to pull away Lex's doubts with his mouth.

Lex was not to be so easily deterred. "But you're uncomfortable?"

"No! I just ..."

"Have class? A Torch article to write? Bins of vegetables to carry in from the truck?"

Clark smiled then, almost wolfish with his gleaming white teeth bared and dark hair mussed around his face. "Lex, it's four in the morning. I have nowhere else to be and you know it."

"Then what is it?"

Another beat, and a flash in those green eyes – almost as if some spark had ignited, or some chemical reaction taken place. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"Hurt me?" Lex half-laughed, wondering if it sounded as hollow to Clark's ears as it did inside his own head. "Listen Clark, you may have a few inches and a few more pounds on me, but I think I can handle myself here."

"You know what I mean. I just always seem to hurt the people I ..."

Lex leaned back on one elbow and waved lazy circles in the air with his other hand. "The people you take to bed?"

"Look," Clark stammered, "I've never taken anyone to bed before either, not that that's what I'm talking about. Damn it, Lex, do you have to be so imperious?"

"Sorry," Lex said, softening. "It's a character flaw. I'll shut up. You were saying?"

"I just … care about you, and … I always seem to hurt the people I care about."

Ah, so that was it – of course, Clark's hero complex. How could he have forgotten?

"Clark. You know you don't always have to protect everyone, right?"

Downcast eyes that Lex couldn't catch. "I do though. Especially if … if I can't give them all the things they ask for ... if I'm the reason they're hurt. I can prevent that."

"Do you believe in free will, Clark?"

"Oh for pete's sake. I didn't mean to inspire a philosophy lecture."

Lex's mouth couldn't help but turn up at the corners. "I've always loved your completely disrespectful sense of humor." Loved. It had slipped out so easily … Clark could not conceal a slight reaction to the word. Lex let it be. "I don't intend to lecture. I just meant this: if you truly care about someone, you respect their autonomy, don't you?"

"I ..."

"Their independence, Clark. Be fair. Do you respect my right to make my own choices?"

"Of course I do."

"Even if those choices might bring me pain?"

"I'd do what I could to stop them from hurting you."

"But ultimately my choices are my own?"

"... I suppose they are."

"Good." Lex snaked his arm around Clark again, fingering the waistband of those ridiculous red boxer briefs. "Besides, it's a moot point. I know there are things about you I'll never understand. Maybe I'll convince you to explain them to me, maybe I never will; but I still made up my mind a long time ago. I just never thought I'd actually get to pursue it."

Surprise colored Clark's cheeks. "You mean ..."

"... that I've been waiting for this? Hoping for it? Of course."

Again the downcast eyes. "Now I really don't know what to say."

"Anything you want," Lex replied, his hand on the back of Clark's neck insistent, leaving him no choice but to meet his gaze. "Just like I can't stop you from your stubborn attempts to protect me from myself, I can't make you say, or do, anything." A beat. "But I want you, Clark. I have for a long time. And after tonight, there's no chance that's ever going to go away for me."

Blinking, Clark murmured, "I can't help but feel like this is some kind of business negotiation."

"Trust me, Clark – this is not business to me. This is infinitely personal."

Silence for another moment … then, "You've been with other guys before." It wasn't a question.

"I've been with lots of people. If that bothers you, I'm as ashamed of it as my loneliness will allow."

"It doesn't … bother me … precisely."

"What then?"

"It just makes me feel clumsy and stupid again."

"You can't be worried I'll make fun of you? Not that I could, you seem to know pretty damn well what you're doing."

"I wish you'd take me seriously," Clark huffed.

"I assure you I do." He traced the line of Clark's jaw with his fingertips, and for a moment put away the swaggering bravado. "Besides, don't you think it bothers me a little? That I worry I'll hurt you?"

Clark's eyes widened in momentary surprise. Lex couldn't help but think how he'd like to see that expression again, though perhaps under different circumstances. "You couldn't hurt me, Lex."

"Why not? You're not made of steel, are you? You have a heart, same as me."

"I do. But …"

"And you don't think I've been worrying about that all night, that I'd push too hard, make you do something you'd regret?"

Now Clark's hand was tightening on Lex's hip. "You don't think I regret this?"

"Isn't that what we're talking about?"

Something seemed to smolder in those green eyes … if Lex hadn't known it was his imagination, he could have sworn he felt heat in that gaze. "I want you too, Lex."

For one infinitesimal span of time, Lex Luthor could not breathe. "Well then," he replied as smoothly as he could, "what do you suppose we should do about that?"

Clark's fingers slipped against Lex's side – ever so gently, as if something in Clark needed reining in lest it break him like glass. And then Lex's words repeated, making the skin along his spine tingle: "Just touch me."

Lex was happy to oblige.