AUTHOR: Nymph Du Pave
FANDOM: Smallville
PAIRING: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent, hints of a few others
RATING: PG-13
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com
FEEDBACK: PLEASE! R&R! This chapter was fun to write, kinda.
Chapter Four
Confrontation
"CHUG, CHUG, CHUG, CHUG!!!"
The crowd erupted with cheers and hollers as Whitney chugged down the last few gulps of the huge soda.
Clark just watched and shook his head. He could always tell just how Lana's relationship was going with the quarterback, because if they were in an off period, he showed up in all sorts of bizarre places.
Like here, in the Beanery for 'The CHUG-A-LUG Contest'. The Beanery had started selling Chug-a-Lugs as opposed to Lana's Chug-a-Tons for the theater aspect of the Talon. He'd been wanted to go see the Bond movies playing on the Talon's Sunday Matinee. First was 'Moonraker' and he had skipped out on that, but not for the typical reasons a true Bond fanatic would. He and Lex had watched it on the big screen at the castle and MST3K'd it. It had been so much fun and they had laughed so hard that he knew for sure he would never again be able to watch it without thinking of the jokes they had made. Right now, with Lex not even talking to him, he didn't think he could handle it.
After 'Moonraker' was 'The Living Daylights' and, his favorite Dalton Bond flick, 'License to Kill'.
Clark wondered if Chloe was still typing away on her laptop in the Talon. He wasn't sure why he was avoiding her. She'd apologized and clearly felt horrible. She'd even handed over Lex's poem as a peace offering and Clark was itching to find out just how his resourceful friend got her little hands on that.
But still, he couldn't believe she'd lied to him. And not about something simple. This wasn't 'Hey, I fell asleep and forgot to call you' when the truth was she got wrapped up in an article and didn't want to pry herself away. This wasn't 'I'm not feeling too good. Can we postpone the hang-out until a later date' when the truth was there was a bunch of soft-core on the Cinemax free weekend Saturday. This was about him. This was deeply personal and something that would be permanently etched into the fabric of their friendship. He had no clue how long it would take to be able to trust her again, wasn't even sure that that day would ever come. He loved Chloe and wanted like hell to forget this but he couldn't.
Alongside his anger and wounded heart was the guilt he was feeling.
She and Pete were his best friends. He would do anything for them…
except tell them the truth.
He really hated himself for that. They deserved to know what
he was and he knew that he could tell them. He'd promised his parents
that he wouldn't, but it was getting to the point where, not only Chloe
and Pete were suspicious of him, but to the point where he had to say or
do something. He had to tell them. He didn't feel like himself
hiding this information from them. He couldn't blame Chloe for being
curious, or finding something on him. He couldn't blame her for coming
up with her own theory. He just hated it that she lied to him.
Over the noise of the teens, over the clatter of the kitchen and the smells of the food and beverages two things hit him almost simultaneously: the bell on the door of the Beanery and then a subtle smell, leather and cinnamon and that part of the smell, the creamy part, that he missed the most.
Leather; his dreams had him and his lover clad in it, making love in and on it, surrounded by it.
Cinnamon; there was nothing like the faint smell of it mixed with Lex's pale skin -- together an addictive and, surely, a lethal mixture.
The Creamy part; something he'd never been able to identify, something that wasn't always there, but when it was there it was all he could do not to wrench Lex to a private area of wherever they were, force him against a wall and lick every single centimeter of the milky body.
Clark didn't turn around. He couldn't. He fought every muscle, every bone and every desire in his body. He would not look at Lex.
He could tell when Lex looked at him, however. His stomach tightened, he became hot and flushed, and his erection was sudden and hard.
I can't see you there
but I feel your saintly presence
It made him sad and weak that he could not turn to meet the eyes of his best friend, or watch that lithe body move across the room. His eyes would show so much heat, so much lust.
when you look my way, love
ignore the stains of my tears
He wasn't crying, but tears weren't the only things that gave away what a person was feeling. This was all up to Lex.
If the older boy left without a word, Clark would have to rush out there and demand that Lex tell him what was wrong. Maybe he'd even have to profess his love. At that realization, his stomach lurched.
Please, don't let him leave.
Clark wasn't sure that he could have even done it, necessary or not. What did he expect fate to do? It had given him every confidence, every opportunity and every assurance. And still he was chickenshit.
If Lex came over, said hello, approached him at all, it was going to be all he could do not to explain right away that, you know, really the poem was not about Lana. It was about someone else, hint hint. No one that I go to school with, hint hint. Some one very rich that lives in a castle all by himself and is the heir to many, many millions of dollars. Probably billions in industry, but none of that had ever or would ever matter.
HINT, HINT, HINT!!!!
Lex would probably think Clark was in love with Bruce Wayne.
God, what he wouldn't give to be in a room, alone with Lex. They could finally have it out, everything their looks secretly promised each other. Lips, bodies, hands and more. If it weren't for Lex's damned stupid idea that Clark wanted nothing more than Lana, Lana and more Lana.
An image shot to his head and he wasn't even sure where it came from.
Clark was standing in an apartment that he'd never seen, never been in before. The walls, carpet and furniture were all black and the window -- the sliding glass door leading to a patio -- showed an unobstructed view of a city, one that Clark could easily identify as Metropolis.
That wasn't the main focus of the image however. Lex was on his knees in front of a naked, tied, standing up Clark. His lips were swollen and what from, Clark could only guess. He licked the length of Clark, and in reality Clark felt a jerk in his pants.
Good, Christ.
"You want this, Clark?"
In his image/hallucination/dream/died-and-gone-to-heaven trance he nodded.
"You have to beg, farmboy."
He was not sure just where he got this image but whoa. His whole body was trembling from the power of his reaction. Usually it was just him and Lex making out in the Fortress of Solitude. Or in the fields. Or in Lex's study or garage or car. There would be him fondling, stroking and going down on Lex. In his guiltier, more desperate, lonely fantasies, Lex was going down on him, hard and fast.
But this was new. And he was tied up?
His body, out of nowhere, erupted with lots of tiny but powerful explosions of exhilaration, something of a familiar sensation, but nothing he wanted to put his finger on. He wouldn't come away without making a mess.
It took him a second to come to two conclusions: Lex had just touched him on the shoulder and-
He'd just come in his pants.
Shit.
"Clark, hey. How are you?"
The other boy sat down in the other side of the booth. Clark was still getting over the fact that he had just had an orgasm in his pants in a public place without any facet of physical stimulation. A fantasy -- he had no idea how it got into his head, but he was suddenly sure he had to be picking up Lex's thoughts -- had just had a naked him standing and tied to a bedpost-
That's what it was!
-with a fully clothed Lex ready to go down on him and making him beg for it.
That was not at all his style of eroticism.
"Clark? You okay? You look like you just ran a marathon."
He looked up to find Lex a little flushed and guilty-looking himself. For a moment Clark entertained the thought that maybe, just maybe, Lex had been thinking about that… that…
Yeah. That. And Clark had just accidentally picked up on it.
He pushed the theory aside, though. It made no sense. What did make sense was that Lex was embarrassed and guilty from pretending to be in Metropolis when he obviously was not.
Clark breathed in deep. "Yeah, I feel weird. All of a sudden, too. How are you?"
Lex looked a little worried. "Good, thanks. What do you mean weird?"
Clark wanted to bypass the whole 'well I just came in my pants thinking of you on your knees about to suck me off and, by the way, was that your fantasy that the alien antenna in my head picked up?' discussion, so he decided to skip every formality on the list.
He was not going to bullshit around with Lex. The older boy was supposed to be his friend, one of his best friends and Clark was pissed and hurt. He'd tried everything to see Lex, even almost cried over a fucking phone talking to Lex's butler with his mother in the next room. Lex had better have a damned good excuse.
"Where have you been?"
Lex stiffened slightly and, had it not been Clark sitting across from him – Clark, who was completely in tune with the young Luthor's lean body -- it might have gone unnoticed. "What is that supposed to mean?"
He knew that Clark had been asking for him and… After all that Clark wanted, simple things he… Lex was going to try and deny this?
"Well, obviously," Clark snapped. "It means 'what room of the castle were you burrowing in' because I know for damned sure that you never made it out to the city."
Lex was losing his cool in a manner that Clark had never seen. "As a matter of fact I just got in the other night. In time to go to sleep then wake up to find a very weary, very hurt, very lost Chloe Sullivan on my doorstep."
Clark felt himself stiffen and knew that Lex figured he'd made a mark, a point. Martha had told Clark the morning that Gabe had called twice asking where Chloe was and then telling her what had happened. Lex's mentioning of it had only infuriated him more.
He began unbuttoning his flannel shirt. If he was going to make it out of here with any of his dignity left, he was going to have to cover himself. "So, you'll make time for a girl you barely know, but when your best friend comes knocking you send your butler?"
He knew that Sam was more than a butler to Lex, but it was the principal. He wrapped the shirt around his waist.
Lex's face was showing the guilt that he couldn't hide. "I made time for someone who needed me, Kent." He wasn't being soft either, and there was some tension behind his words. Words that cut Clark in half.
"Need." Clark snorted. "What would you know about it?"
Lex bristled at that. "A great deal more than you, I'm sure."
Clark rolled his eyes, pissed at the hole in his heart that was starting to form. He decided he didn't like fighting with Lex anymore than the last few times it had happened. "Whatever. Maybe you should start thinking about others for once and not your own selfish fucking reasons."
He stood, not really sure what he meant by his own words, and turned to go when Lex spoke.
"Being there for Chloe was not selfish! What you're doing to her is."
That stung. People were staring straight at them but he didn't care now. He spun around and headed straight for Lex. "What did she tell you?"
Lex didn't drop his icy gaze from Clark's burning one. "Not much, but enough to draw my own conclusions."
Clark barked out a laugh, loud and hard. "Your own conclusions. Like the world needs you to make any more of those."
"Chloe needed you and you turned her down. That was selfish."
"No!" he yelled. "I needed you and you hid in your stupid god-damn castle." He swallowed aware that everyone in the Beanery was going to have a hell of a lot to talk about when the two of them were gone. "That," he whispered to Lex. "-was beyond selfish."
He grabbed his coffee and stomped out of the coffee house unsure of just what to do or where to go. He had no Chloe to talk to about yet another argument with Lex. And this time it was an honest fight.
Well, fuck, he thought, then felt the hand on his shoulder.
"What did you mean 'you needed me'?" Lex asked, his toned softened. "And what's wrong with my conclusions?"
Clark jerked his shoulder away. "Right. Your wonderful 'conclusions'. Wonderful assumptions is more like it. Take my poem, Lex. You 'concluded' that it was about Lana."
Lex frowned. "Not just about the fairy princess then? It was about life and Lana?"
Clark had to count in his head before he either screamed or just kissed Lex in public. He wondered how often people pissed other people off until one of them just jumped the other to prove a point.
"None of this or anything else has to do with Lana, Lex. It never does. It hasn't for the longest time."
Lex's brow was furrowing even deeper. "Chloe, then?"
"Jesus, Lex," he said exasperated beyond his body's comprehension. "Just fucking forget it." He turned around to walk away.
"Okay, fine." He could hear Lex trying to keep up with him. Lex was in no way a short man at a full six feet, but Clark was six four and a half and right now he was sure that the extra four and a half inches seemed all leg and muscle. "Fine, Clark. Let's forget that. What business is it of yours where I stay or where I am?"
That stopped Clark cold. He didn't bother turning around. "Excuse me?"
"You have no right to question-"
He turned around at that, enraged. "Your supposed 'best friend' has no right to question? You're hiding in your daddy's castle-"
Ooh. That was smart, he thought sarcastically.
"-pissed off or offended at something I did and then you have the nerve to pretend that you actually went to Metropolis? You lie to me?"
Lex nodded, eyes spiritless, face passive. "You're right, Clark. I shouldn't have lied to you. I forgot that lies and secrets are your forte. I should've known you'd catch me in one."
Clark just glared at him for a moment, unable to hide the pain, unable to come up with some witty come back.
He wants it this way? Fine.
"You don't know what a 'best friend' is about, Lex. You've no fucking clue." He turned and headed towards his pickup truck, figuring that Lex would call out to him, rush up to him, apologize in some fashion, or keep fighting. But he didn't.
Clark hopped into the truck and put the keys in only to half a second later hear an engine growl and see Lex's blue-silver Mercedes take off.
Lex had stolen his heart, his life and now his good dramatic exit.
After a moment, Clark sighed, climbing out of the car. He walked
down the alleyway between the Beanery and Dalton's Bookstore, made sure
no one was looking, then took off after Lex's car. He wasn't going
to do anything, really. Just make sure the millionaire didn't crash
into any teenaged boys, through a bridge and into the waters below.
To be continued...