By Lemur
***
Clark had ridden in Lex's Porsche before, his Ferrari, too, but it was a small pleasure he rarely took for granted. Riding in a sleek, silver, state-of-the-art Porsche was a standard teenage boy fantasy. Just another wish fulfilled through grants from the generous friendship of Lex Luthor.
Usually, he made some comment, joked Lex about his sports car fetish, but this time he was too distracted to relax because he knew something Lex didn't: his parents weren't home. They had gone to visit a friend in a neighboring county and wouldn't be back for another hour or so.
A full day of chores awaited him, but no parents. And if Lex were there to see, those chores weren't going to get done in the ten minutes he had allotted them. He knew he should have been nervous about his father's reaction when he saw they weren't finished, but that was so very far from his mind. Lex was unusually silent, pensive. And Clark really wanted to know what he was thinking.
For the actual trip to his house, he was granted a reprieve from his curiosity. Lex drove more carefully when he had a passenger, yes, but considering how recklessly he usually drove, it was barely an improvement. Clark distracted himself by trying to figure out how he could protect Lex without exposing his secret if they suddenly flipped into a cornfield as a flaming fireball.
Sooner than should have been possible at the actual speed limit, they arrived at his house and he still didn't have a solution. He figured there weren't many ways to explain how acting as a shield to an explosion was a logical instinct for a normal human being, not to mention how to explain why it worked.
"It's quiet around here tonight," Lex commented, putting the car into park.
Clark swallowed and shrugged. "Yeah, my parents aren't home." Lex's eyes shifted to him. "Would you want to come up, hang out in the loft or something?" He'd said it, so he couldn't take it back and he didn't want to, but he sure wished he had phrased it differently, more maturely. He got the feeling that this was not the time to remind Lex of his age.
"Sure," he replied, stepping out of the car and tossing the keys in his pocket.
Clark led the way up the stairs to the barn loft never having felt more aware of his height or the way the toe of his left foot pointed slightly more center than the right. His whole sense of self felt heightened and that wasn't a good thing. He felt unexpectedly gangly and awkward. He felt like a normal teenager. How ironic. Now, of course, he would gladly welcome an alien abnormality like…composure or perhaps heightened powers of seduction.
He tossed a couple of books and plaid shirts off the couch, clearing space for…well, his imagination really couldn't help him now. It had shorted out at the look Lex had given him on finding out his parents weren't home. There was something in that look.
"How did things go with Lana today?" Lex asked, sounding cool and calm like he usually did. Curse him.
"All right, I guess. I didn't see her at school much and I wasn't at the Talon very long before you got there," he answered, familiar with giving the daily tactical report from the Lana-front.
Lex wandered around the loft, idly looking over the assortment of books and papers that had accumulated over the course of the year's homework assignments. Clark did a quick scan of his memory, hoping that none were too embarrassing. Thankfully, he'd gotten rid of Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. That one was strictly hidden in his bedroom now.
Clark sat down on the couch. "I think she might have agreed to a date with this guy Andrew from school, though," he continued, trying not to notice as Lex slid a hand in his pants pocket, pushing back his suit coat and exposing his slim waist.
"Have you given her any reason not to?"
"No, probably not," he confessed.
"You can't expect a woman to wait for you unless you've made her understand that you'll be worth her time," Lex explained, his voice measured and serene, which for some reason made Clark even more nervous. He had a running theory: the more relaxed Lex sounded, the less relaxed he truly was. Clark swallowed hard, trying to imagine what situation could make Lex tense.
"Yeah, well, maybe I'm not," he said, not really listening to himself.
"You are." Lex continued flipping through the small library of neglected books. "You just have to let her know it."
"I can't just wait for her to figure it out on her own?" He laughed weakly. They were still talking about Lana, he reminded himself. Lana. Lana. That name sounded distant and hollow in his head with Lex standing right there, looking amazing, exuding that unbelievable confidence. And the room was filled with this tension Clark had never felt before. It was like static in the air or being covered with a heavy blanket and yet, Lex just flipped through the pages of a book like he was unaffected.
"She's a sixteen year-old girl, Clark," Lex replied, as if that were a self-explanatory answer.
"Yeah, so?"
"Sixteen year-old girls are notorious for imagining boys as what they want them to be, not as what they are," he answered sagely. Clark had to admit, that made some sense.
He stood from the couch and walked over to the book-laden table where Lex hovered. "I don't think I can be who she wants me to be." Turning pages, Lex's hand tensed for only a fraction of a second when he stepped near. It wasn't a declaration of any sort, but it was as much proof as he could hope to get. Lex wasn't unaffected at all.
"Nor should you," he said, his voice still calm where his body had betrayed him. "I wouldn't suggest that, but you also shouldn't make her to wait to find out if you're worth waiting for. 'Delays have dangerous ends.'"
Delays have dangerous ends. That sounded familiar, but why? Slowly, it dawned on Clark: he could picture it, he knew that quote. He had memorized it. "Shakespeare," he uttered, sounding surprised himself. And the look Lex gave him was as priceless as he had hoped.
The books forgotten, Lex turned to him, his expression quizzical and admiring. Clark smiled, beaming his too-high-wattage smile and trying not to care. He had done it! He had known one of Lex's high-brow, intellectual quotes!
Lex breathed a laugh and smiled. "I wasn't aware you were that familiar with Shakespeare."
"Well, you know," Clark said, feeling pretty cool, "I dabble."
"Dabble?" Lex's smirk contorted as if he were trying to keep it small and elusive while wanting to grin as brightly as Clark always did. "Now, see, that's something Lana should know."
"Probably," Clark replied, but he couldn't even picture Lana right now. He felt his smile slowly fade and he swallowed uncomfortably. His limbs felt tense and anxious. He didn't know what he was thinking. In fact, he suspected his mind had become a great empty space, because he couldn't think of anything, anything at all. His eyes flitted to Lex's lips and he tried to pull them back and look elsewhere. He tried to focus on Lex's shoulder and the crease of the collar on his suit coat, the fine stitching, but his gaze was continually drawn to Lex's mouth and that small white scar on his upper lip.
That was when he noticed that Lex's smile had also disappeared. Clark stood still, trying not to shift back and forth on his feet nervously. Lex locked his eyes on his, his look deadly serious. "This won't help," he whispered.
"What?"
But Lex never answered. Instead, he slid one hand around Clark's head, threading his fingers through his hair, and angled his lips to softly meet his. Clark had imagined a hundred different ways, but all one hundred fell drastically short of reality. Lex's mouth moved slowly against his. His hands clutched gently to Clark's neck, holding their mouths together, his fingers cool and steady against his skin.
Smooth chest against smooth chest. And how strange to not have to slouch to kiss someone. With Lex, he had only to tilt his head down. Clark could feel his heart pounding, and his arms trembled with the forceful rush of blood. He didn't know what to do with his hands or his body. He was only dimly aware they still existed as Lex claimed his bottom lip between his, his own top lip pressing to that small, perfect scar.
They separated, Lex's fingers still woven through Clark's hair, and Lex smiled, shrugging lightly. "Not bad," he breathed. But for once, his casual demeanor wasn't working; Clark could see straight through him and he didn't even need x-ray vision. Lex felt everything he felt: the tension, the unexplainable connection, the complete lack of urgency – and the worn sense of confusion lacing it all together. He was not callous. He was not distant. He was here – and his heart was pounding, too.
Lex pulled their mouths together once more, his tongue sliding against Clark's upper lip. Clark inhaled sharply as his mouth fell open and Lex's tongue brushed against his. He wasn't wrong; Lex was the one to show him how a kiss should really feel. His hands independently decided they could no longer be inactive. One tentatively reached forward to touch Lex's waist, fingers pressing gently against the fabric of his dress shirt. Smooth silk over firm muscles. That was definitely a sensation he could get used to.
And that's when Clark figured out what Lex had meant. This won't help. They had both been working on the hypothesis that, if they simply indulged this unusual attraction, it would go away. But now, feeling Lex pressed against him, hearing the soft guttural moans that escaped his throat, Clark understood that this really wasn't going to help. It wasn't going to satiate their desire for one another – it was only going to help them identify exactly what to crave.
Suddenly, Lex stepped away from him. Lust made Clark feel blurry around the edges as he tried to figure out why he'd stopped. Then he heard tires grinding over gravel.
His parents were home.
"Clark?" his father called. "Are you in here?"
Abruptly panicked, his mind returned to painful sharpness. To be found in his loft kissing a man, let alone a man his father hated; it was a bad scene all around. He glanced at Lex who stood still, the back of his hand to his mouth, carefully rebuilding his façade. Clark envied him, but was also incredibly thankful. If both of them acted suspicious then they were in real trouble.
"Yeah, Dad," he called, his voice sounding a few octaves above normal. "I'm up here."
His father appeared below them. "Oh, hello, Lex." Instantly, he put on his Luthor frown.
"Hello, Mr. Kent," Lex replied, perfectly composed. Clark had never admired him more.
"Clark, did you get any of your chores done?"
"No, Dad. I'm sorry," he answered, fidgeting. "I just got back from the Talon and Lex and I were…hanging out. I didn't think you'd be home for a while."
His father looked decidedly unhappy and glanced at Lex. No doubt he thought the unfinished chores were also the fault of the Luthor family. "I want all those chores finished before you go to bed tonight," he said. "Now, come inside and help your mother with dinner."
"Oh, can Lex stay for dinner?"
The minute the words were out of his mouth, Clark wanted to slap himself. Very smooth, Clark. Now who's the sixteen year-old girl? He could almost hear Lex smirking beside him. And his father looked as if he wanted to emphatically shout "No!"
"That's all right, Clark," Lex interjected. "I should be going anyway." He moved toward the stairs. Clark tried to think of some excuse to get his dad to leave the barn for just five minutes so he and Lex could…what? Say good-bye properly maybe. He wasn't sure really, but he knew he didn't want him to leave yet.
But Lex made it to the barn floor before his mind had given him even a hint of what to say to stop it. Of course, then his dad left, as if it were any good to them now.
Before he walked out, Lex stopped and looked up. "See you later, Clark," he said with a glint in his eyes.
Clark beamed. "Bye, Lex."
***
The sputtering clunk of a tractor motor broke through the morning silence and Clark opened his eyes.
Lex kissed me.
Only when he realized that the thought was different than usual did the original come back to him. He was an alien, yes, but for one whole second, he'd forgotten. He breathed a surprised chuckle. Well, what do you know?
Lex kissed me.
Clark's mind felt locked on what had happened the night before, and his body remembered it. He licked his lips and imagined they still tingled, even though they probably didn't.
However, a quieter, much more serious part of his mind had awakened as well. A part that had nothing to say but warnings and premonitions. A part that warned him that whatever existed between he and Lex was far bigger than the both of them and that what he had mistaken for simplicity was actually intricacy. The intertwining subtleties and intensities were so small and so dense that he couldn't see them, but they were there and they were many. Dimly, somewhere deep in his mind, Clark realized that this relationship could get very complicated and very messy.
He also realized he didn't care.
Lex kissed me.
Then, the questions began. Did his race have anything like a tractor? Would his biological parents even know what a farm was? Would they grow vegetables and things like that? Or maybe on their planet, they could grow animals.
Would all of his race be so attracted to Lex or was it just him? …
***
Fin, my friends.
If you're a hardcore slasher, there is an NC-17 PWP epilogue to this PG-13 series. It's available at my homepage The Unimagined (www.geocities.com/jerboa_lemur) under the Smallville heading and it's entitled "Mind on Fire." If you like it, feel free to review here or in the page's guest book.
Thanks to Alucard who has taken up the thrown gauntlet to write Lex's point of view of these stories. Woohoo!
Thank you to all who reviewed. I appreciate it. A particular thanks to Becs for reviewing every chapter. I really started looking forward to hearing from you.
If you liked these stories, please tell me. I'm a writer by profession so any constructive criticism is considered an investment in my career.
Thank you all for reading! Lemur