Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.
Tilt
Lex liked to drive fast. The Porsche and the long, straight stretch of highway that led from Smallville to Metropolis gave him plenty of chances to indulge; he could make the three-hour drive in a little over two. Someday it would catch up with him, when he amassed enough tickets for some judge to want to make an example of him and revoke his license for good. But until that day, he'd enjoy himself.
Besides, he was pretty sure Clark liked him to drive fast.
There was something intimate about hurtling down the ill-lit highway with Clark sitting beside him in the front seat. For all its richness, the Porsche was still cramped inside, especially with a passenger like Clark; their shoulders nearly touched, and every time Lex reached for the gear shift his fingers skimmed Clark's knee. Not that he minded, of course, but it made it difficult to concentrate on the road.
Lex almost hated to rush the drive. It was so hard to get any kind of real privacy with Clark; but now, alone together beneath cover of falling darkness and the Porsche's tinted windows, they finally had it. But Lex also saw, despite the dim light, the look on Clark's face as the speedometer crept past ninety.
"Too fast?" he asked, a wry turn to his voice.
"No way," Clark breathed. Even just out of the corner of his eye, Lex could see Clark trying to pretend he wasn't leaning eagerly forward in his seat. He smiled to himself and edged towards ninety-five.
-
Clark couldn't help but think that driving with Lex was the closest thing he'd ever found to sharing his speed with someone. As the world beyond the boundaries of the road blurred together he could almost believe he was running; but his legs, cramped as they were in Porsche's compact interior, prevented him from giving in entirely to the illusion. (So did Lex's hand brushing his knee every time he changed gears, though of course he didn't mind that either.)
He enjoyed watching Lex drive. The ever-present tension that hung around him seemed to melt away when he folded his body behind the wheel. Clark wasn't fooled though; he knew that this, like everything Lex did, was just another display of control.
It was exciting to watch Lex grip the leather-covered steering wheel and know that however much power 350 horses really had, Lex had more.
The only bad thing about Lex's driving was it made the trip to Metropolis so short. Clark could easily have spent twice as long getting there; he so seldom got to be really alone with Lex. But tonight it was would be just the two of them in a crowd of strangers; so as privacy went, it was pretty close.
As if Lex had read his mind, he said, "So remind me why we're going to this place again?"
"For the music."
"If it's music you want, I'll take you to the philharmonic in a heartbeat."
"Don't be such a snob, Lex. It'll be fun."
"The philharmonic is 'fun.' And I have a private box ..."
"Stop teasing."
"I'm just appalled that you're more excited by strobe lights and loud bass than by Paganini. And I'm not teasing … we could close the curtains ..."
"Next time," Clark grinned, turning to fix Lex with his fiercest expression, "I'll show you how excited I can get about Paganini. But tonight I feel like loud bass."
-
It wasn't as complicated and beautiful as progressive violin, but Lex had to admit that being pressed together with Clark in the crowd on the club dance floor had its own particular charms.
It was supposed to be difficult to get in here; judging by the length of the line at the door, Lex guessed it might be. There was an advantage to wealth and notoriety, though; the velvet rope had lifted for him and Clark with just a few folded bills.
His only concern had been that someone might ask why Lex Luthor would be coming to a club without an entourage of at least five or six beautiful women around him. But if anyone thought it was anything other than a stag night for the poor little rich boy and his remarkably tall, good-looking friend, they never let on.
As they made their way through the gyrating crowd, Lex felt the bass pulsing through him strongly enough to try to change the rhythm of his own heart. He looked back at Clark and couldn't help but notice how the constantly-shifting light played off his well-muscled arms and chest. Clark had shed his omnipresent flannel and denim tonight – naturally that would never have gone over in a place like this. But his shirt and trousers were more fitted than Lex was used to, and despite their subtlety served only to make Clark look taller and more substantial. The effect was arresting to say the least.
Lex swallowed dryly. He had to be careful … this wasn't that kind of club.
He was going to need a drink.
-
Lex was, despite his apparent comfort with people always recognizing him, an intensely private person. Clark knew this, so he didn't take it personally when Lex seemed particularly anxious for a vodka tonic. He understood: being seen together in a club was far different than being seen together in the Talon.
He wished Lex wouldn't worry; he wasn't worried. But Lex seemed to think that it was important for them to keep things secret, that it was for Clark's sake and protection. And obviously, Clark knew all about keeping secrets for others' sakes and protection. He knew how he felt - and if anyone found out, he knew he could handle it. Lex, however, was difficult to persuade of such things.
Someday he'd see. Someday Clark would tell him. But until then, he didn't begrudge him a drink. Besides, he couldn't help enjoying the sight of Lex leaning up against the bar, his pale graceful fingers around the tall thin cocktail glass, the sharp neon light refracting through the colorless liquid and lending a luminous quality to his porcelain skin. There was something so elegant and almost fragile about Lex – Clark simply couldn't get enough of it.
He'd have to be careful though ... he was staring. And he didn't care if Lex knew it – but Lex would care if anyone else noticed.
They were going to need some girls.
-
Lex had to admire Clark's ingenuity.
It was easy to find a few women to dance with; Clark's unassuming good looks put people instantly at ease. And Lex was pretty sure one or two of them recognized him as well; maybe they read the business pages. It was incongruous, but not impossible, that girls who wore outrageous amounts of eye makeup and danced with strange men in nightclubs might read the business pages in their nine-to-five lives. After all, Lex practically was the business pages in his own nine-to-five life, and yet here he was in the middle of a dance floor.
So the two things needn't be mutually exclusive.
He was surprised, though, that Clark had thought of it instead of him. Lex was usually the one who was concerned with veneer and misdirection. Clark, on the other hand, was not the type to use anyone; and so Lex wondered if he was feeling guilty about making these girls their diversionary tactic, drawing them into their strange game of hide-and-seek.
Lex himself didn't really care. There was nothing wrong with dancing with someone, even if you were only doing it to hide the fact that you were looking at someone else.
He had promised these young women nothing, and they were only paying him a passing notice anyway. One of them seemed to be trying very hard to get Clark's full attention, though, and despite the careful distance Clark was maintaining Lex felt a prickle of jealousy running down his spine.
But jealousy could be a useful emotion ... and besides, wasn't it a part of the game too? And of course she should want to touch Clark. He couldn't blame her.
He was growing increasingly desperate to touch Clark himself. In the tightly packed crowd Lex was intensely aware of the small distance between their bodies. And Clark was moving in a way Lex was not accustomed to seeing from him; the rippling lines of his chest and shoulders were breathtakingly apparent as he danced with these admiring strangers.
Meanwhile, the frenetic pace of the music was starting to creep under Lex's skin; it made him dizzy, although he'd stopped at just two vodka tonics and knew he should be in complete control. But the chaotic light just kept playing through the unruly strands of Clark's hair and Lex felt the room start to spin around him, rapidly becoming a swirling vortex of sound and sweat and other irresistible forces.
Through his private vertigo, Lex suddenly realized Clark's eyes were on him too. His face was placid but everywhere his gaze travelled, Lex's skin tingled as if touched by an invisible flame. All at once the confusion around them seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them alone within the eye of its storm. It was exactly what he had been waiting for.
He leaned through the cacophony of female forms, close enough to be heard over the pulsating music.
"Clark."
"Yeah?"
"Let's get out of here."
-
Lex kept a penthouse in Metropolis, just in case he ever found himself stuck there on business. Not that just driving far enough out of the city limits and parking the Porsche on the side of the road wouldn't have sufficed if need be; but an expansive bed and a breathtaking view made a much more comfortable setting than the cramped interior of a sports car, even if it was leather detailed.
Despite the late hour, they weren't the only ones in the elevator at first; but past the seventeenth floor they finally found themselves alone and gave up fighting gravity. Only when the doors opened unexpectedly on thirty-three did Lex realize Clark had pressed him up against the control panel.
They were barely even inside Lex's apartment before his fingers were fumbling with Clark's shirt buttons. He had to get his hands on Clark's skin; he was now willing to admit that all that watching and waiting in the club had nearly driven him mad. But hurry made him clumsy and he was not making any progress at all.
Clark chuckled quietly low in his throat and, wrapping his huge hands around Lex's, gave the shirt such a hard tug that it ripped open down the front, sending buttons flying everywhere.
Lex blinked. "That was unexpected."
"Sorry - I was getting impatient."
Quirking an eyebrow, Lex mused, "It makes me sort of sorry I don't have buttons myself."
Clark ran a hand over Lex's chest, fingering the thin weft of his cashmere sweater. "I don't know, I could probably ..."
"Never mind," Lex said, stopping Clark's mouth with another kiss. "Too expensive."
"Now that just makes me want to rip it even more."
"Shut up, Clark."
-
The floor-to-ceiling windows in the bedroom let in all the glittering splendor of Metropolis by night. Though the sight of Clark by night made Lex feel almost sorry that the glass was mirrored on the outside; if only the city knew what it was missing.
Later, Clark noticed it too. "That view really is amazing," he said. "It's almost like … flying."
"I like my view better," Lex replied, lifting the edge of the sheet with one errant finger.
Clark grinned even as he snatched Lex's hand away. "We should come here more often."
"So you like the apartment?"
"I like anywhere we can be alone," Clark said simply, his artless honesty as always taking Lex by surprise.
"Your wish is my command," Lex breathed. "But remember – next time, the philharmonic."