Obsessions Chapter 17
Here's chapter seventeen of Obsessions.
Enjoy
Clark had a canvas bag with him when he arrived. It was just after six and he had a look that screamed self-satisfaction.
"My mom sent these," Clark lifted the sack.
Lex lifted a brow and indicated the counter. It was a good bet Clark wasn't particularly pleased about a bag of produce. "She does realize the island's not experiencing a shortage of organic vegetables."
Clark shrugged. "Did I mention this morning that I could run on water?"
Lex opened his mouth, stymied in his build up to complaining over Clark mentioning the contents of his refrigerator to his mother. The running on water declaration was most certainly a subject changer.
"No. You neglected that tidbit."
"Yeah, well - -" Clark held out his hands, grinning. "Apparently if you run fast enough, you sail right across. I just figured it out. Well, I figured it out this morning. By accident. Works pretty well, though."
Lex eyed him thoughtfully. He was all shiny and pleased, practically glowing with it. White teeth, golden skin, wind tousled black hair that was getting a little long. "You couldn't before. Did you just not know you were capable, or are you getting faster?"
"Faster," Clark said without hesitation. "I beat my last time by a long shot. So what did you do today?"
Oh, broke down a little. Arranged for your father to engage in a little arson, just so it could be a family affair. Got warned away from the underage sex. How about you? Lex leaned back against the counter, and said instead. "I picked up a few things in town. You do like fish?"
Clark shrugged unenthusiastically. "I guess."
"Well it's an island. The seafood is fresh and plentiful. I thought maybe we could christen that grill on the deck."
Clark perked up at that idea, very much a sucker for food related activities. Clark was far from a gourmet and Lex's appetite was less than enthusiastic. They decided on simple. They cut up some of the produce Martha had sent, peppers, onions, yellow squash and piled them on top of the tuna fillets and put them in tinfoil pouches to steam on the grill.
They sat on the deck and watched the ocean while they cooked, Lex listening to Clark talking about the last few days at school and the uncomfortable task of reintegration.
"Everybody at school thinks I'm the biggest freak on the planet," Clark said, sitting perched on the deck rail, watching Lex instead of the ocean behind him. "As soon a people forget one thing, something else pops up to get them talking."
"Do you care what people say behind your back?"
"Well, yeah. Don't you?" Clark countered and gave him a penetrating look.
"No. For the most part. But then, I've probably got a lot more people talking about me than you have. Besides which, it's high school. It's a given that you're going to encounter asinine behavior."
"Did you?" Clark canted his head curiously.
Lex almost considered lying, glossing over what had been a rather intimidating first year and half of his prep school education. But admitting things to Clark had become comfortable to him. Cathartic. He ran a hand over his head and smiled wryly.
"Have you looked in the mirror, Clark? You think you have it hard, try being the scrawny, bald freshman at the elitist of elite schools. Because believe me, rich kids can be dicks of monumental proportions. If I'd been 6'3 and looked like you, chances are I wouldn't have gotten my ass kicked quite as many times as I did. Well, that and possibly if I had any ability whatsoever to keep my mouth shut when someone bigger and meaner than me was looking for a fight."
Clark frowned. "See, now I just want to go and kick some rich kids asses."
Lex snorted. "Oh, don't feel sorry for me. I got over the victim phase and delivered my own justice."
Clark kept staring, thinking things he didn't say. Things Lex silently thanked him for not saying. He slowly nodded. "Okay."
He hopped down from the railing and headed for the grill. "Does that smell done to you?"
It was, and it wasn't half bad. Lex managed to eat about half of his packet, which was more than he'd had the appetite for in a long while. Clark brought it out in him.
Clark kicked off his shoes and wanted to examine the beach afterwards. The sky was purple, the ocean huge and dark, broken only by the pale glimmer of white caps. The booming rush of waves crashing against beach reminded a person how small they were. It was cool enough to warrant a jacket, but Lex just stuffed his hands in his pockets and avoided the chill foamy surf that rushed the sand. Clark had no such qualms. He walked a few yards closer in, the bottom of his jeans soaked up to the knee from the water.
"You know, before I came here, I'd never seen the ocean," Clark admitted.
"Really? With your abilities - - you never just decided to take a run and see?"
"It never occurred to me. I was content I guess. With the farm and Smallville and the things Smallville offered. My biggest dream was marrying Lana and maybe having a house of our own in town."
Lex sidestepped further up the beach to avoid a particularly far-reaching surge of tide. Clark waded a little deeper, up to his knees in rolling water.
"And now?"
"Now its like the whole world is waiting. Now I don't even know all the things I want - - except that whatever they are, they've got to include you."
Sixteen, Martha had said. Sixteen, and you've got to be the adult. "When you're sixteen everything is bright and shiny. You'll have a hundred dreams - - a thousand, before you find the one that really matters."
Clark stopped, staring at him, a big wave crashing against the back of his legs and not moving him an inch. "What does that mean, Lex?"
A gust flapped Lex's shirt and he shivered, digging his hands deeper into his pockets. Clark wasn't shivering at all, and the Atlantic this far north towards the end of November was chill. One more amazing thing. Lex could spend a lifetime exploring them all. He wasn't altruistic enough to give it up.
"Nothing. It means nothing. Me trying to play at adult. Why aren't you cold?"
He looked down at Clark from his dune, feet sinking into loose, dry sand.
Clark stared at him a moment longer, like he was trying to figure him out, then he shrugged and took a step backwards, deeper into the water. "I dunno. One of those things."
"Oh, I love that answer."
He got a grin flashed at him. It was as white as the white caps, just as beautiful. "If I figure it out, Lex, you're the first one I tell. Promise."
By the time they got back, Clark was wet all over, the hems of Lex's pants were damp, and the moon was up.
Clark just stripped off his sodden t-shirt and wrung it out as they walked up the path to the house. His shoulders were broad, back rippling with lean muscle that barely hinted at the power he truly held. His jeans were dripping.
"Throw those in the dryer in the utility room." Lex said, trying for casual, trying very hard not to put distance between himself and a Clark that was already unbuttoning sodden jeans. "There should be something that'll fit you there."
"Sure," Clark agreed, and kicked off the jeans, balling them up to squeeze out the water before heading into the house in nothing but wet, clingy boxers that showed more than they hid.
Lex sat down on the big, double lounge and watched him go, so many conflicting emotions churning inside him it made his head swim. Clark - -just Clark being Clark made him sweat. Martha's voice inside his head, reminding him - - sixteen. As if he needed her prodding to make him think twice about it, because the promise of intimacy - -the threat of it - - made something inside him curl up and shrink away.
Clark strolled back out in a pair of gray sweatpants that were a size too small and clung like a second skin. Everything just there, from the curve of his ass to the soft bulge of his genitals. He hung to the right.
"The moon over the ocean is awesome." Clark flopped down on the other side of the lounge, sighing happily, folding his arms behind his head, chest still glistening with a few beads of moisture, smooth and perfectly formed. The only hair was the narrow start of the treasure trail a good ways below his navel heading down. Lex had a hit and run vision of Decker's body, with its thick mat of hair, bristly, dark, chest, legs, arms. His skin crawled with tactile memory. A little bit of bile teased the back of his throat. He swallowed it down, forced back the way his vision wanted to tunnel. This was Clark. Clark was not Decker.
Clark was smiling happily, staring up at the sky, at a mostly full moon and a vast array of stars. "The sky's beautiful here."
Lex thought he should get up and move to another deck chair. Clark was too close, crowding him without actually touching. Making his skin prickle and his heart thud and he honestly didn't know if it was in appreciation or anxiety.
Lex shut his eyes and tried to calm his racing pulse.
"What time do you have to be home?" He almost blurted it, tact eaten up by the nerves.
Clark blinked at him in the moonlight. "A couple of hours. Before midnight. Do you want me to go now?"
Yes. No. "I can't - -" That vague sensation of vertigo edged in on him. It felt as if the lounge might dip out from under him.
Clark sat up, hand pressing down on the cushion next to Lex's hip, not touching him, but close enough that Lex felt it. Lex felt the whole of him. Impossible not to. "You don't have to do anything. We don't have to do anything. I'll go, if you need me to."
"I don't want you to go." He could overcome this. He could fight this battle and win it. The spoils were too vital not to make the effort.
He eased himself down, head back on the slanted back of the lounge, staring up at the sky that so fascinated Clark. Practicing his breathing technique while the earth steadied under him. Clark settled back down beside him, arms behind his head again. Not touching, just close enough to know that he could if he shifted enough. That morning, in the light of day, when he'd had a purpose, when Clark had been distraught and blaming himself for things Lex had stopped blaming him for long ago, he hadn't even thought twice about stepping up and calming him.
The darkness made a difference that he couldn't understand. Clark's near nakedness did and that he understood all too well, eyes drifting back to the shape of Clark's flaccid genitals clearly hinted beneath clingy grey cotton.
"I always look up there and wonder which one I came from," Clark said softly, reverently. "And why? Did I crash land? Was it on purpose? Was I abandoned? Are there other people like me out there?"
"No clues?" Lex blew out a breath, distraction a relief. "What about the ship?"
Clark rolled his head, looking at him. "Did my parents show it to you while I was - - out of it?"
"No," Lex honestly hadn't cared until now. Clark's origins had been far down his list of concerns. "I haven't been back to Smallville since - - the day after - -"
"Yeah?"
"The mansion was - - there was a lot of death in the mansion. You were beyond any help I could give you - - and I needed to be someplace else."
"I understand."
Lex rolled his own head, meeting Clark's eyes, and thought maybe he did. Clark could be surprisingly empathic when he chose.
"Thanksgiving's coming up. You can come and see it then."
"Thanksgiving?"
"Sure. My mom always goes all out. It'll just be my parents and me and you if you want to come, so no pressure."
Because eating at a table with Jonathan Kent when he suspected Lex and his sixteen-year-old son had been engaging in sex not prompted by the accidental exposure to mood altering meteor rock would exert no pressure at all. He did want to see that ship though, now that Clark had him thinking about it.
"I'll consider it."
Clark smiled, satisfied with that. The silence was comfortable and Lex had never been one for long stretches of companionable silence. It just wasn't in him not to fill those spaces with something, but Clark made him content to just lie there and enjoy the sky while the tension slowly eased out of him.
He drifted. Eased back to awareness pressed against solid warmth. Cheek against smooth skin, arm across a hard, bare stomach.
There was a moment where his heart slammed against his ribcage, where his body instinctively wanted to jerk away when it woke up next to an unexpected presence. He laid there, pulse erratic and racing, as the pieces to the here and now, the quiet rush of surf, the night sky, the familiar, welcoming scent of Clark, edged out the bitter recollection of what had been. Clark's body was passive and still. Clark was the antithesis of threat. He told himself that. Repeated it a few times until he began to believe it. Shut his eyes and let the conviction sink in. Relaxed back against the warmth of Clark, utterly relieved that he could.
He lay there a while, allowing himself the luxury of Clark's sleeping presence. He shifted, staring at Clark's sleep softened face. He lifted a hand, traced a finger across the temple where the bullet had gone in. The bone structure was pristine, the skin unmarred. He clenched his fist, remembering the echo of those shots. Remembering the almost hollow sound of his voice when he'd screamed denial. He dreamed of those shots almost as much as he dreamed of what had happened afterwards. He half wondered, in his moments of less than rational thought, if some higher power had extracted the price of Clark's resurrection from him in pain and suffering. He'd have paid it willingly. Though it would have been nice to know at the time, that his torment had been worth something.
He let out a breath of silent laughter, the self-deprecating sort, and rolled his head to stare up at the night sky.
It occurred to him that the moon was considerably further across the sky than it had been last he'd looked. He shifted his arm to get a look at his watch. After midnight.
Fuck.
All he needed was another conversation like the one he'd had today, with Clark's parents. He cringed at the idea of Jonathan Kent calling instead of Martha, demanding to know what he'd done to his son.
"Clark."
Clark made a sound. A sleepy little groan and the arm beneath Lex's shoulders curled, pulling him a little closer, subtle strength in that embrace that was as relentless as the tides. But the arm loosened, falling back along the lounge before Lex had the chance to tense.
"Clark, wake up. Its past your curfew."
"Don't care," Clark slurred, lashes still flush against his cheeks.
Lex wasn't entirely sure he did either, he could probably endure another lecture if he had to. Because this was good, this discovery that he could experience blissful comfort pressed up against another living being. He'd been afraid that ability had been gouged out of him.
"I'll drop out of school and just stay here with you," Clark murmured. "I'll beach comb for a living. Is that a legitimate job?"
"I think, with a high school diploma, possibly even a college one, you could find better."
"Umm. You did okay without the college one."
Lex frowned against Clark's shoulder. "That was a failing on my part. I wish - -" he trailed off, considering a world of bad choices on his part. A world of rash mistakes that had very likely spurred the imagination of the psychopath his father had set to watch dogging him. "I wish I'd done things differently."
Lex pushed himself up, looking down at Clark. "Go home before I get a call from your mother."
Clark hadn't been so much grounded as he had been sternly reprimanded for coming home a good hour and a half after he was supposed to be, on a school night. His parents had both been up waiting for him, and he'd pretty much prepared for a fight, but they'd poured on the guilt instead, telling him how much they loved him and how afraid they'd been when he'd been injured and how they all needed to work together to get things back to normal.
His Dad hadn't even brought Lex's name into it, which sort of deflated Clark's arsenal of righteous indignation. They were in firm agreement that he wasn't to make the trip back to Lex's east coast island house on a school night for the rest of the week. Since it was Wednesday - - well, Thursday morning, he figured he could afford to cave to keep peace in the house.
And it did give him the time the catch up with his friends. Chloe had never been in question, but Lana seemed to have completely gotten over her pique and Pete was pretty much back to his old self. A little guarded maybe, but then, that might have been because - - Pete admitted when they were alone between classes- - Clark had seriously freaked him out with the whole zombie routine. He hadn't seen the bullet holes, but he'd seen the bandages.
He called Lex, and had he sensed anything remotely off in his voice, he'd have blown across country regardless of parental disapproval, but Lex sounded fine. Lex told him about the movie he was currently watching, which turned out to be some classic sci-fi flick that interested Clark a lot less than Lex's voice. Clark sat on the sofa in the loft, phone cradled between shoulder and ear and slowly jacked off, while he listened to Lex wax poetic over the gritty artistry of early Ridley Scott. He was a huge Bladerunner fan. He loved the first Alien. He despised the sequels. Clark sort of liked the second one.
He hadn't really masturbated since he'd snapped back to reality, there'd been a lot of other stuff on his mind, a lot of worries, a lot trying to be really, really careful around Lex. But he figured Lex over the phone half a country away was safe masturbation material. And Clark had lots of practice being quiet about it, what with mom having hearing that was damn near as good as his newfound sensitivity in the area. He could bite his lip and swallow the groans that wanted to rip up his throat as he squeezed a hand hard around his dick breaking through the open fly of his jeans. And once he started, it really hit him that it had been like six, almost seven weeks since he'd jerked off and considering he'd done it at least once or twice - - sometimes a lot more than that daily since he'd been old enough to discover the activity - - that seemed like an eternity.
His balls thought it was an eternity, tightening up almost after the first five or six strokes, and he had to hold the phone away from his face and clench his jaw as he spilled over his fist.
He was still sort of hard after, and Lex was asking him if he was okay. Sure, fine. What were you saying?
He shut his eyes and listened to Lex talk, making a few comments himself, but mostly, just sinking into the sound of Lex's voice, imagining sinking into Lex, as he stroked himself more leisurely.
Last night had been good. He thought Lex was getting better, a lot less tense around him, a lot less jumpy by the time he'd chased Clark home, than he'd been before.
Lex was strong. Lex never let adversity keep him down. If he couldn't face it head on, then he came at it from a different angle and outmaneuvered it. Clark knew Lex could get over this. Clark would help him if he could. If Lex would just relent and talk to him about the things that mattered, the things that were tearing him up on the inside, instead of holding it all in. His mom said not to push, but his mom also said that nothing good ever came of holding onto a hurt so long that festered and turned gangrenous.
There had to be a happy medium.
He had a meteor freak issue Friday after school, and boy, it seemed like forever since he'd had one of those. He really hadn't been paying a lot of attention, but Lana ended up being okay, afterwards, if not a little confused at how she'd woken up at home in bed.
He put in a lot of extra work on the farm afterwards, getting stuff done that wasn't even on the to do list, just to cover his bases for the weekend. With the exception of early nineteen-century poetry, which he despised, he'd gotten all his make up work done. He'd dole it out a little at a time over the next couple of weeks, to keep from raising eyebrows, but he was done and his mom was satisfied. He promised her to take the poetry book with him to Lex's. He even figured Lex could help him out deciphering the mental meanderings of long dead, really pessimistic poets, if he asked nicely.
So Saturday morning, bright and early - - well, relatively bright and early - - after ten, since Lex seemed to have a problem with the early morning wake up calls - - Clark headed east. He had a backpack stuffed with a few things this time, swim trunks, since he had every intention of partaking of the ocean during the light of day, an extra change of clothes, just in case the need arose, the damned poetry book, to appease him mom. There wasn't much he could do to appease the look his dad got, sort of dour and disapproving, and Clark thought he'd heard a bit of argument between his parents last night about the wisdom of letting him spend all this time alone with Lex half continent away from parental supervision. He'd stopped listening about halfway though, not wanting to hear it. Feeling bad, really bad, over his dad being so against the idea of him and Lex, feeling embarrassed as hell when his mom brought up things like 'not having sex' when you're too young to get all the implications - - like there were secrets out there associated with it that he hadn't figured out yet. Like he thought it was a nifty pastime to go out and practice with just any body that was game instead of something wonderful and sacred and not to be squandered unless it meant something. He got that. He believed that. He wasn't quite sure how to reassure his mom - - much less his dad - -without dying a little from the humiliation factor.
Whatever they came up with, he'd try to respect, because he loved them and they deserved it. But he'd draw the line at no Lex. He'd fight them for Lex. But there had been no restrictions waiting for him at the breakfast table, just his mom suggesting that he try not to make them stay up to all hours of the morning waiting for him to get home this time and make it a relatively decent hour. His father stuffed pancakes into his mouth in the obvious effort not to add his two cents to that. Apparently mom's view had prevailed in the discussion last night.
So Clark kissed her cheek, grinned at his dad and took off.
Lex was up when he got there, sitting on the deck with a mug of coffee and a laptop. Clark slowed down at the base of the deck steps, to keep from startling him into sloshing coffee onto the keyboard and delivered a cheerful 'Morning', as he stomped up the stairs.
Lex looked over the rim of his sunglasses at him, mouth twitching a little in a half smile.
"So what are you up to today?" Clark asked, because really, other than sitting around reading, looking at the ocean, sleeping, all of which were great if you were trying to relax and heal, and all of which he thought, after a while would have driven Lex crazy, there wasn't a lot to do.
Lex tipped his glasses back, giving Clark an unobstructed view of his eyes, which were very pale blue this morning, almost grayish in the bright morning light. There was the slightest hue of purple under them, like he hadn't gotten much in the way of sleep last night.
"Catching up on a little news. I've gotten behind lately."
Clark sat down on the chair opposite him, and decided not to ask if he'd slept. There was no reason to start the day off with Lex touchy and on the defensive. "I can give you some Smallville news. I had to deal with another meteor mutant yesterday."
Lex lifted a brow and Clark went into details. It was such a relief being able to talk to him about stuff like this, which tended to be a pretty big part of Clark's life, instead of having to avoid valid subjects and outright lie. And Lex was a lot more interested than Pete had ever been, after he'd found out. Though Pete might deny it, Clark thought the whole thing scared him a lot. Not Clark so much as all the crazy shit that he tended to jump into feet first.
"He didn't see you?" Was Lex's first question.
"Well, he sorta did. But Lana was unconscious and I was literally at the Talon in front of tons of witnesses like a minute later, so I've got an alibi. I've done this a couple of times before, you know."
Lex eyed him thoughtfully, thinking maybe of all the times Clark had given him perfectly legitimate reasons why Clark 'couldn't have had anything to do', with whatever it was Lex had been asking him about.
"Your names comes up a lot at the sheriff's office," Lex commented. "I know, because I've had the occasion to inquire."
"Yeah?" That was the sort of statement that would have set off every warning signal he had six months ago. Now he canted his head and grinned a little bashfully. "I gave you the runaround a lot."
"Unn. You need to come up with better lies."
Clark lifted a brow.
"There's going to come a day when you don't have a decent alibi, or there are too many witnesses to convince they've experienced some form of group delusion. Or someone catches you on video. The 'you hit your head pretty hard' excuse is just not gonna fly forever."
"Did you ever believe it?"
"The first time, you had me really doubting. After that - - not so much."
Clark's grin widened at Lex's dry tone. "Yeah, I sorta picked up on that a few times, when you looked like you wanted to strangle me. Why didn't you kick me out and wash your hands of me?"
Lex leaned back in his chair, giving Clark one of those sleek, amused looks of his. "I will admit to ulterior motives."
Clark thought about that and the things he'd pretended hadn't been there, that he knew damn well had been, now. Thought of the bullshit Lex had been willing to put up with because Lex had had it bad for him. It made him sort of flushed and hot at the pit of his stomach thinking about it.
"Yeah?"
Lex arched a brow. "I was curious. How was I supposed to catch you in a lie if I didn't see you on a regular basis?"
Clark gave him an unappreciative look. Lex half shrugged and added. "And you did lie very prettily. Even when they were pouty, indignant ones. I would have hated to miss out on that."
"I don't pout."
Lex laughed abruptly. "Oh dear God, do you really think not?"
Clark might have been offended, if it wasn't so good seeing Lex laugh honestly, without having to pretend.
"So I was thinking about maybe checking out the ocean," Clark said. "I brought trunks."
"Knock yourself out."
"You wanna come?"
Lex laughed again. "Not even remotely."
He did walk out onto the beach though, after Clark had been in the water a while. Clark saw him, a tiny figure on the beach, after he'd swam out a good mile. It was likely Lex couldn't see him so far out, past the gentle swells. The water was fantastic though, huge and evocative, with unrelenting motion. It was euphoric almost, to simply float, no ground beneath him, swayed by something more powerful than him. He was vaguely aware of temperature extremes, even though they had little effect on him, and if he had to guess, he'd say this was somewhere around 50 degrees, so little wonder Lex hadn't been eager to join him. Clark liked the cold better than the heat. The cold - - especially the extreme cold, almost invigorated him. This cool water, combined with the constant motion made his skin tingle pleasantly.
He swam back to shore, putting on a bit of speed until he was close enough that Lex could see him from the beach.
Lex stood there, beige clothing almost the color of the sand, loose and whipping in the wind, unreadable expression on his face, fingers in his pockets, while Clark waded out.
"Hey," Clark said grinning, shaking water out of his hair. "Are there dolphins in these waters? I think I saw something big break the surface out there."
Lex opened his mouth. Took a breath, like he wanted to say something but restrained himself. He shook his head and said instead. "I don't know. You were pretty far out."
"Yeah, it was great. There's a little island another couple miles out. I'm heading for that next time."
Lex didn't look particularly impressed at the declaration and it occurred to Clark that not being able to see him out there, he might have worried. Lex was new to Clark's whole special ability thing and his confidence hadn't been boosted much by Clark getting throat-slashed and shot the first day he'd found out.
"Last time I clocked myself," Clark said, a sort of peace offering to let Lex know just how little he had to worry about Clark and the perils of the ocean. "I was up to being able to hold my breath for about twenty-three minutes. That was last summer. I'm betting I can beat that now."
Lex looked past him a moment, maybe towards that distant island. It was clear enough you could see the bigger landmass of Nantucket itself beyond it, maybe twelve, fifteen miles to the southeast. Lex's fingers clenched just a little in his pockets, the only indicator that there were nerves at play.
"I thought we might ride into town for lunch."
"Sure," Clark was more than game for an outing. Running through the island at supersonic speeds didn't leave much room for appreciating the scenery.
Lex looked apologetic over the car. It was a four door Mercedes that he claimed as his father's.
"It was here when I arrived," Lex explained, which Clark translated as, if Lex had been in a better frame of mind, he'd have had arranged for something sleeker to seen in. But then, Clark had the feeling Lex hadn't been getting out a lot.
It wasn't a big island, and they road along a coastal highway until they reached a little wharf in Edgartown, that boasted high dollar sailboats, and yachts mixed in with more weathered working vessels. There were a lot of quaint little shops and bistros. Nobody looked twice at them, as if whatever reputation Lex had gained back in the city - - Metropolis, New York or otherwise - - hadn't been able to cross the channel and follow him here. There weren't even any gossip rags on the magazine racks in storefronts they passed, just the local paper and the New York Times.
Good thing, because according to Chloe, who'd apparently been keeping tab, the gossip rags were running wild with the whole Lex Luthor kidnapping/sex slave/possible murdered father for inheritance thing. Clark had gone on line and looked at a few stories after she'd told him and immediately wanted to run into the city and torch the Inquisitor's presses. Or at the very least knock a few journalistic - - and he used the term lightly - - heads against walls. He didn't want Lex to ever have to see those stories, but it wasn't like he could shield him from them.
They ate lunch in a little place on the wharf. Not very crowded, which Clark counted as a good thing, because Lex was exuding just the slightest aura of something. Clark wouldn't go so far as to say tension, it was just after knowing Lex as long as he had, knowing how Lex moved when he was in control and comfortable, there was a certain grace lacking. A certain smooth predatory gait to his stride that just wasn't there. Like he was on edge and waiting for the next shoe to fall. A certain stillness that came over him when he passed too close to people on the street, that made Clark want to insert himself between him and all those oblivious passer bys.
By the time they left, Lex's jaw was clenched and his hands white knuckled on the wheel. It took half the trip back to the east shore beach house before he relaxed. Clark wanted badly to ask, 'is this why you left Metropolis?' 'is it getting better or worse?', but Lex hadn't brought it up himself, and he remembered his mom's warning not to push. Only problem was, he wasn't sure where that line was between pushing and backing too far off and letting Lex slide into something he'd have a hard time pulling himself out of.
It was one of those instances that talking to his mom and getting her advice, would have been really, really nice.
Lex had had a glass of wine with lunch. He had another when they got back to the beach house. Sat down with it, while Clark flopped onto the white leather couch and flipped through the selection of satellite channels.
"You wanna know what classic sci-fi I like?" Clark gave Lex a look from the vantage of the other end of the couch, as he landed on a black and white episode of Lost in Space. "This is awesome stuff. I'd kill for The Robot."
"I had a working model," Lex said casually. "Granted, it was three feet tall, but it gave great catch phrases."
"Figures," Clark grinned.
Lex shrugged and sipped at his wine. Almost at ease, but not quite. Like there was something at the back of his mind that he couldn't shake.
They spent an hour watching back-to-back episodes, then Lex's attention wondered, and he fetched his laptop. Clark figured it was time for another swim. He'd make that island this time, and give Lex time alone.
He slipped on still damp swim trunks and hit the ocean at a run. Dove into the waves and got sand in his shorts from the tumbling surf, but that was okay. He dove through the waves until the chop stopped and it was just swells, then started swimming, normal human speed.
He wished he could get Lex out here, because there was peace in the waves. A cocooning sort of silence, inundated by the swell of water that settled everything.
He made it to the islet, sat on the rocks for a while, watching the seagulls bomb dive the surf. The sun was getting towards the western horizon. The day had passed too quickly. It was the first one he thought, that he'd spent morning to evening entirely in Lex's company. He thought he could get used to it.
He swam back, spent a lot of time underwater, going deep, where even with his vision, all he saw was murk and shadow and the occasional silvery glimpse of fish. Stayed down until his lungs started to burn, then rocketed to the surface.
It was exhilarating. It made him feel vibrant, alive. He tromped out the waves, shedding water on his way back to the house. Lex apparently trusted him enough not to drown this time that he hadn't come out to check on Clark's status.
He stood at the counter, back to Clark as he came in, idly scrolling down a page on his laptop, an almost empty glass of a different color wine in hand. The lack of hair accentuated the line of Lex's neck. Just one long, smooth sweep of muscle and tendon from the bump at the back of his skull to the sweep of his shoulders. He was beautiful, and Clark wondered if he'd figured out yet, just how much Clark loved him.
He stepped up impulsively, lying hands on Lex's shoulders, brushing his cheek against the smooth skin at the back of Lex's head. Lex stiffened, just this moment where he literally stopped breathing, every muscle in his body frozen into unnatural stillness, before a strangled sound escaped him and he jammed and elbow backwards, trying to spin, a frantic struggle that sent the laptop crashing to the floor, in the wake of the wineglass.
"Get off. Get off!"
Lex was hissing at him, pushing at him, and Clark's instincts, fast as they were, had been shocked into sluggishness.
"Lex, it's me. It's me," he cried, and finally had the sense to just let go and stumble back in shock. Lex went the other way, back against the counter, pupils so dilated that his eyes were almost black, breath ragged and harsh. Staring more through Clark than at him.
It took him a few moments to focus, for comprehension to seep back into his eyes. Then he opened his mouth, that utter animal panic that had flooded his expression turning into something more aghast. He met Clark's eyes for a heartbeat and god knew what expression Clark was wearing. Then Lex's mouth thinning and something hardened behind his gaze, and he turned without a word and stalked upstairs.
Clark stared for a moment at the mess on the floor. The wine seeping into the hardwood. He grabbed a towel off the counter and laid it on the spill to sop it up, picked up the laptop and laid it on the counter. He'd get the shards of broken glass later, when he didn't have a distraught Lex to deal with.
It was his fault. He didn't know what he'd been thinking, surprising Lex like that, when Lex was in no state of mind to deal with surprises. The look in his eyes, the raw panic and fear - - how close to the surface had that been to break through so easily?
The door to Lex's bedroom was closed. Clark stood outside it, miserably debating whether to lift a hand and knock. He swallowed, hating himself for causing this and ventured. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I shouldn't have - -"
Something crashed, the chiming clatter of breaking glass. Clark flinched and it took everything he had not to break through the door. He used his x-ray vision instead, making sure Lex was all right. Which he was, at least physically. Pacing, breathing hard, hands clenching and unclenching as he moved.
"Lex?"
Another clatter of smashing glass and Clark shut his eyes, winching at the sound of destruction. He backed up, back to the opposite wall and listened to Lex melt down behind the thin layer of door. The sound of movement stopped, momentarily, then Lex was at the door, snatching it open, staring at Clark with wide, storm colored eyes. Half the panes in French doors were shattered, whatever had been on the dresser hurled through. There were pieces of ceramic in the corner and a dent in the wall where the lamp had been slammed into it. The mirror over the dresser was splintered, long, razer sharp splinters of reflective glass still clinging to the corners but the majority of it littering the dresser and the floor around it. There was trickle of blood running down Lex's hand where glass had sliced. Not deep, not bleeding too bad.
Still, Clark paled at the sight of red. "Lex - -? Are you okay?"
"No!" Lex snarled at him. "Obviously I'm pretty fucking far from okay. God, Clark what do you want from me? What do you expect, because I really need to know if I'm going to try and put up a decent front. If you're looking for a quick fuck, I'm afraid I'm not up to par. With a few drinks I could probably lay there and take it if you really felt the need. Its not like I could stop you. "
Clark gaped at him, aghast. "No! I don't want - - I wouldn't - -"
He stopped, trying to put two and two together. Thinking that maybe when he'd come up behind Lex he might have been sporting half an erection. The feel of the surf rushing through his shorts had been pretty damn exhilarating, that was all. Sex hadn't been on his mind at all. Hell, he'd hardly noticed the thing, because God knew a strong breeze could inspire a tightening in his pants with nothing more than cows in attendance. But Lex had felt it, maybe when Clark pressed up behind him. God, he was an idiot.
"Lex, I'm sorry. I didn't mean - - please talk to me," he pleaded. "I want to help you, but I don't know how if you don't tell me."
Lex stared at him, mouth tight, face frozen in that expression he wore when he was trying to convince the world he didn't give a damn. It probably would have fooled most people, but Clark could read his eyes, and they were the sort of dark they only got when there was emotion to spare rolling around behind them.
"Stop trying to help me, Clark. I'm broken. Don't you get that? Just get the fuck out and go try and fix someone else, Clark. Go chase Lana - - go for the girl and the white picket fence and leave me the fuck alone!"
He tried to slam the door closed, to shut Clark out, and Clark wasn't having it. He caught the edge, desperate, confused, forced it open, and after a moment of resistance, Lex it go.
"Lex, no - - I'm not going anywhere. And you're not going anywhere until you just talk to me!" The hell with not pushing. His mom was wrong. Lex didn't need him to back off, because Lex wasn't going to do anything but stagnate if left to his own devices. He put his hands on the doorframe, meeting Lex's wild eyes unflinchingly.
Lex bared his teeth, glaring back, not backing down, angry. And Angry was good. Angry was better than panic and fear and whatever other dark poisonous things roiling around in there eating him up from the inside.
"What the fuck do you want to hear? You want to dirty details? That it got to the point where I was preying for a good old-fashioned dick up the ass rape instead of having him come up with something more creative? That he violated me every fucking conceivable way a body can be violated and then came up with new ones? That I was so fucking spineless that when he put his cock in my mouth and said suck, I put forth my best effort hoping that he'd get off enough to give me a few moments peace afterwards. But that it never stopped him from fucking me over anyway? I begged and I crawled and nothing stopped - - I can feel it in my mouth - - everything tastes like him - - there's so much of him inside me that I can't wash it out - - staining me - - I can't scrub it off - - I can't make it go away - -"
His shoulder hit the doorframe, hands curled into claws, nails raking at his wrists, like he was trying to tear off invisible cuffs. He couldn't seem to catch his breath. Clark was having a hard time catching his own, swallowed up by this hollow horror that Lex's words had created in the pit of his stomach. Touching him was what had started this whole thing, but every instinct Clark had said get his arms around him, pull him in and let him rage all he wanted as long as he knew Clark was there.
It was probably foolish, but instinct had served Clark well before. He moved in close, wrapped his arms around him, and Lex when ballistic, bucking against him, cursing, struggling in a blind rage to break free.
"Lex, it's not there," Clark yelled at him, trying to keep hold and not hurt him in the process, because there was nothing rational in Lex's eyes. "There's nothing there, no stain. There's nothing there. I can see through to your bones and there's nothing there." He was babbling over Lex's exertions, thinking, God, God, I've made a mistake, he won't forgive me for this. He'll hate me.
"I can feel him," Lex slammed a fist against Clark's shoulder, followed up with his forehead, pressed there, his weight heavy against Clark of a sudden, just leaning there, all the strength drained away, legs going out from under him and Clark went with it, sinking down the doorframe, easing them both down to the floor, Lex shuddering, sobbing against his neck. "All the time - -I can feel him inside me. Like poison. I dream about him, Clark. Every night. I see him out of the corner of my eye - - I can't breathe sometimes - - I feel so fucking - - weak."
Clark tightened his arms and Lex didn't fight it. Lex just shook with silent tremors and dug his fingers into Clark's shoulders. "He's dead and you're alive. You're not weak. You faced him down and you won. You did what you had to do, Lex. And you survived it. How's that weak?"
Lex didn't answer. Just pressed his face into Clark's shoulder and held on like he'd found unexpected ballast and was holding on for dear life.
Clark was so relieved to provide the service that he sat there, arms around Lex and cried.
To be continued . . .
Enjoy
Clark had a canvas bag with him when he arrived. It was just after six and he had a look that screamed self-satisfaction.
"My mom sent these," Clark lifted the sack.
Lex lifted a brow and indicated the counter. It was a good bet Clark wasn't particularly pleased about a bag of produce. "She does realize the island's not experiencing a shortage of organic vegetables."
Clark shrugged. "Did I mention this morning that I could run on water?"
Lex opened his mouth, stymied in his build up to complaining over Clark mentioning the contents of his refrigerator to his mother. The running on water declaration was most certainly a subject changer.
"No. You neglected that tidbit."
"Yeah, well - -" Clark held out his hands, grinning. "Apparently if you run fast enough, you sail right across. I just figured it out. Well, I figured it out this morning. By accident. Works pretty well, though."
Lex eyed him thoughtfully. He was all shiny and pleased, practically glowing with it. White teeth, golden skin, wind tousled black hair that was getting a little long. "You couldn't before. Did you just not know you were capable, or are you getting faster?"
"Faster," Clark said without hesitation. "I beat my last time by a long shot. So what did you do today?"
Oh, broke down a little. Arranged for your father to engage in a little arson, just so it could be a family affair. Got warned away from the underage sex. How about you? Lex leaned back against the counter, and said instead. "I picked up a few things in town. You do like fish?"
Clark shrugged unenthusiastically. "I guess."
"Well it's an island. The seafood is fresh and plentiful. I thought maybe we could christen that grill on the deck."
Clark perked up at that idea, very much a sucker for food related activities. Clark was far from a gourmet and Lex's appetite was less than enthusiastic. They decided on simple. They cut up some of the produce Martha had sent, peppers, onions, yellow squash and piled them on top of the tuna fillets and put them in tinfoil pouches to steam on the grill.
They sat on the deck and watched the ocean while they cooked, Lex listening to Clark talking about the last few days at school and the uncomfortable task of reintegration.
"Everybody at school thinks I'm the biggest freak on the planet," Clark said, sitting perched on the deck rail, watching Lex instead of the ocean behind him. "As soon a people forget one thing, something else pops up to get them talking."
"Do you care what people say behind your back?"
"Well, yeah. Don't you?" Clark countered and gave him a penetrating look.
"No. For the most part. But then, I've probably got a lot more people talking about me than you have. Besides which, it's high school. It's a given that you're going to encounter asinine behavior."
"Did you?" Clark canted his head curiously.
Lex almost considered lying, glossing over what had been a rather intimidating first year and half of his prep school education. But admitting things to Clark had become comfortable to him. Cathartic. He ran a hand over his head and smiled wryly.
"Have you looked in the mirror, Clark? You think you have it hard, try being the scrawny, bald freshman at the elitist of elite schools. Because believe me, rich kids can be dicks of monumental proportions. If I'd been 6'3 and looked like you, chances are I wouldn't have gotten my ass kicked quite as many times as I did. Well, that and possibly if I had any ability whatsoever to keep my mouth shut when someone bigger and meaner than me was looking for a fight."
Clark frowned. "See, now I just want to go and kick some rich kids asses."
Lex snorted. "Oh, don't feel sorry for me. I got over the victim phase and delivered my own justice."
Clark kept staring, thinking things he didn't say. Things Lex silently thanked him for not saying. He slowly nodded. "Okay."
He hopped down from the railing and headed for the grill. "Does that smell done to you?"
It was, and it wasn't half bad. Lex managed to eat about half of his packet, which was more than he'd had the appetite for in a long while. Clark brought it out in him.
Clark kicked off his shoes and wanted to examine the beach afterwards. The sky was purple, the ocean huge and dark, broken only by the pale glimmer of white caps. The booming rush of waves crashing against beach reminded a person how small they were. It was cool enough to warrant a jacket, but Lex just stuffed his hands in his pockets and avoided the chill foamy surf that rushed the sand. Clark had no such qualms. He walked a few yards closer in, the bottom of his jeans soaked up to the knee from the water.
"You know, before I came here, I'd never seen the ocean," Clark admitted.
"Really? With your abilities - - you never just decided to take a run and see?"
"It never occurred to me. I was content I guess. With the farm and Smallville and the things Smallville offered. My biggest dream was marrying Lana and maybe having a house of our own in town."
Lex sidestepped further up the beach to avoid a particularly far-reaching surge of tide. Clark waded a little deeper, up to his knees in rolling water.
"And now?"
"Now its like the whole world is waiting. Now I don't even know all the things I want - - except that whatever they are, they've got to include you."
Sixteen, Martha had said. Sixteen, and you've got to be the adult. "When you're sixteen everything is bright and shiny. You'll have a hundred dreams - - a thousand, before you find the one that really matters."
Clark stopped, staring at him, a big wave crashing against the back of his legs and not moving him an inch. "What does that mean, Lex?"
A gust flapped Lex's shirt and he shivered, digging his hands deeper into his pockets. Clark wasn't shivering at all, and the Atlantic this far north towards the end of November was chill. One more amazing thing. Lex could spend a lifetime exploring them all. He wasn't altruistic enough to give it up.
"Nothing. It means nothing. Me trying to play at adult. Why aren't you cold?"
He looked down at Clark from his dune, feet sinking into loose, dry sand.
Clark stared at him a moment longer, like he was trying to figure him out, then he shrugged and took a step backwards, deeper into the water. "I dunno. One of those things."
"Oh, I love that answer."
He got a grin flashed at him. It was as white as the white caps, just as beautiful. "If I figure it out, Lex, you're the first one I tell. Promise."
By the time they got back, Clark was wet all over, the hems of Lex's pants were damp, and the moon was up.
Clark just stripped off his sodden t-shirt and wrung it out as they walked up the path to the house. His shoulders were broad, back rippling with lean muscle that barely hinted at the power he truly held. His jeans were dripping.
"Throw those in the dryer in the utility room." Lex said, trying for casual, trying very hard not to put distance between himself and a Clark that was already unbuttoning sodden jeans. "There should be something that'll fit you there."
"Sure," Clark agreed, and kicked off the jeans, balling them up to squeeze out the water before heading into the house in nothing but wet, clingy boxers that showed more than they hid.
Lex sat down on the big, double lounge and watched him go, so many conflicting emotions churning inside him it made his head swim. Clark - -just Clark being Clark made him sweat. Martha's voice inside his head, reminding him - - sixteen. As if he needed her prodding to make him think twice about it, because the promise of intimacy - -the threat of it - - made something inside him curl up and shrink away.
Clark strolled back out in a pair of gray sweatpants that were a size too small and clung like a second skin. Everything just there, from the curve of his ass to the soft bulge of his genitals. He hung to the right.
"The moon over the ocean is awesome." Clark flopped down on the other side of the lounge, sighing happily, folding his arms behind his head, chest still glistening with a few beads of moisture, smooth and perfectly formed. The only hair was the narrow start of the treasure trail a good ways below his navel heading down. Lex had a hit and run vision of Decker's body, with its thick mat of hair, bristly, dark, chest, legs, arms. His skin crawled with tactile memory. A little bit of bile teased the back of his throat. He swallowed it down, forced back the way his vision wanted to tunnel. This was Clark. Clark was not Decker.
Clark was smiling happily, staring up at the sky, at a mostly full moon and a vast array of stars. "The sky's beautiful here."
Lex thought he should get up and move to another deck chair. Clark was too close, crowding him without actually touching. Making his skin prickle and his heart thud and he honestly didn't know if it was in appreciation or anxiety.
Lex shut his eyes and tried to calm his racing pulse.
"What time do you have to be home?" He almost blurted it, tact eaten up by the nerves.
Clark blinked at him in the moonlight. "A couple of hours. Before midnight. Do you want me to go now?"
Yes. No. "I can't - -" That vague sensation of vertigo edged in on him. It felt as if the lounge might dip out from under him.
Clark sat up, hand pressing down on the cushion next to Lex's hip, not touching him, but close enough that Lex felt it. Lex felt the whole of him. Impossible not to. "You don't have to do anything. We don't have to do anything. I'll go, if you need me to."
"I don't want you to go." He could overcome this. He could fight this battle and win it. The spoils were too vital not to make the effort.
He eased himself down, head back on the slanted back of the lounge, staring up at the sky that so fascinated Clark. Practicing his breathing technique while the earth steadied under him. Clark settled back down beside him, arms behind his head again. Not touching, just close enough to know that he could if he shifted enough. That morning, in the light of day, when he'd had a purpose, when Clark had been distraught and blaming himself for things Lex had stopped blaming him for long ago, he hadn't even thought twice about stepping up and calming him.
The darkness made a difference that he couldn't understand. Clark's near nakedness did and that he understood all too well, eyes drifting back to the shape of Clark's flaccid genitals clearly hinted beneath clingy grey cotton.
"I always look up there and wonder which one I came from," Clark said softly, reverently. "And why? Did I crash land? Was it on purpose? Was I abandoned? Are there other people like me out there?"
"No clues?" Lex blew out a breath, distraction a relief. "What about the ship?"
Clark rolled his head, looking at him. "Did my parents show it to you while I was - - out of it?"
"No," Lex honestly hadn't cared until now. Clark's origins had been far down his list of concerns. "I haven't been back to Smallville since - - the day after - -"
"Yeah?"
"The mansion was - - there was a lot of death in the mansion. You were beyond any help I could give you - - and I needed to be someplace else."
"I understand."
Lex rolled his own head, meeting Clark's eyes, and thought maybe he did. Clark could be surprisingly empathic when he chose.
"Thanksgiving's coming up. You can come and see it then."
"Thanksgiving?"
"Sure. My mom always goes all out. It'll just be my parents and me and you if you want to come, so no pressure."
Because eating at a table with Jonathan Kent when he suspected Lex and his sixteen-year-old son had been engaging in sex not prompted by the accidental exposure to mood altering meteor rock would exert no pressure at all. He did want to see that ship though, now that Clark had him thinking about it.
"I'll consider it."
Clark smiled, satisfied with that. The silence was comfortable and Lex had never been one for long stretches of companionable silence. It just wasn't in him not to fill those spaces with something, but Clark made him content to just lie there and enjoy the sky while the tension slowly eased out of him.
He drifted. Eased back to awareness pressed against solid warmth. Cheek against smooth skin, arm across a hard, bare stomach.
There was a moment where his heart slammed against his ribcage, where his body instinctively wanted to jerk away when it woke up next to an unexpected presence. He laid there, pulse erratic and racing, as the pieces to the here and now, the quiet rush of surf, the night sky, the familiar, welcoming scent of Clark, edged out the bitter recollection of what had been. Clark's body was passive and still. Clark was the antithesis of threat. He told himself that. Repeated it a few times until he began to believe it. Shut his eyes and let the conviction sink in. Relaxed back against the warmth of Clark, utterly relieved that he could.
He lay there a while, allowing himself the luxury of Clark's sleeping presence. He shifted, staring at Clark's sleep softened face. He lifted a hand, traced a finger across the temple where the bullet had gone in. The bone structure was pristine, the skin unmarred. He clenched his fist, remembering the echo of those shots. Remembering the almost hollow sound of his voice when he'd screamed denial. He dreamed of those shots almost as much as he dreamed of what had happened afterwards. He half wondered, in his moments of less than rational thought, if some higher power had extracted the price of Clark's resurrection from him in pain and suffering. He'd have paid it willingly. Though it would have been nice to know at the time, that his torment had been worth something.
He let out a breath of silent laughter, the self-deprecating sort, and rolled his head to stare up at the night sky.
It occurred to him that the moon was considerably further across the sky than it had been last he'd looked. He shifted his arm to get a look at his watch. After midnight.
Fuck.
All he needed was another conversation like the one he'd had today, with Clark's parents. He cringed at the idea of Jonathan Kent calling instead of Martha, demanding to know what he'd done to his son.
"Clark."
Clark made a sound. A sleepy little groan and the arm beneath Lex's shoulders curled, pulling him a little closer, subtle strength in that embrace that was as relentless as the tides. But the arm loosened, falling back along the lounge before Lex had the chance to tense.
"Clark, wake up. Its past your curfew."
"Don't care," Clark slurred, lashes still flush against his cheeks.
Lex wasn't entirely sure he did either, he could probably endure another lecture if he had to. Because this was good, this discovery that he could experience blissful comfort pressed up against another living being. He'd been afraid that ability had been gouged out of him.
"I'll drop out of school and just stay here with you," Clark murmured. "I'll beach comb for a living. Is that a legitimate job?"
"I think, with a high school diploma, possibly even a college one, you could find better."
"Umm. You did okay without the college one."
Lex frowned against Clark's shoulder. "That was a failing on my part. I wish - -" he trailed off, considering a world of bad choices on his part. A world of rash mistakes that had very likely spurred the imagination of the psychopath his father had set to watch dogging him. "I wish I'd done things differently."
Lex pushed himself up, looking down at Clark. "Go home before I get a call from your mother."
Clark hadn't been so much grounded as he had been sternly reprimanded for coming home a good hour and a half after he was supposed to be, on a school night. His parents had both been up waiting for him, and he'd pretty much prepared for a fight, but they'd poured on the guilt instead, telling him how much they loved him and how afraid they'd been when he'd been injured and how they all needed to work together to get things back to normal.
His Dad hadn't even brought Lex's name into it, which sort of deflated Clark's arsenal of righteous indignation. They were in firm agreement that he wasn't to make the trip back to Lex's east coast island house on a school night for the rest of the week. Since it was Wednesday - - well, Thursday morning, he figured he could afford to cave to keep peace in the house.
And it did give him the time the catch up with his friends. Chloe had never been in question, but Lana seemed to have completely gotten over her pique and Pete was pretty much back to his old self. A little guarded maybe, but then, that might have been because - - Pete admitted when they were alone between classes- - Clark had seriously freaked him out with the whole zombie routine. He hadn't seen the bullet holes, but he'd seen the bandages.
He called Lex, and had he sensed anything remotely off in his voice, he'd have blown across country regardless of parental disapproval, but Lex sounded fine. Lex told him about the movie he was currently watching, which turned out to be some classic sci-fi flick that interested Clark a lot less than Lex's voice. Clark sat on the sofa in the loft, phone cradled between shoulder and ear and slowly jacked off, while he listened to Lex wax poetic over the gritty artistry of early Ridley Scott. He was a huge Bladerunner fan. He loved the first Alien. He despised the sequels. Clark sort of liked the second one.
He hadn't really masturbated since he'd snapped back to reality, there'd been a lot of other stuff on his mind, a lot of worries, a lot trying to be really, really careful around Lex. But he figured Lex over the phone half a country away was safe masturbation material. And Clark had lots of practice being quiet about it, what with mom having hearing that was damn near as good as his newfound sensitivity in the area. He could bite his lip and swallow the groans that wanted to rip up his throat as he squeezed a hand hard around his dick breaking through the open fly of his jeans. And once he started, it really hit him that it had been like six, almost seven weeks since he'd jerked off and considering he'd done it at least once or twice - - sometimes a lot more than that daily since he'd been old enough to discover the activity - - that seemed like an eternity.
His balls thought it was an eternity, tightening up almost after the first five or six strokes, and he had to hold the phone away from his face and clench his jaw as he spilled over his fist.
He was still sort of hard after, and Lex was asking him if he was okay. Sure, fine. What were you saying?
He shut his eyes and listened to Lex talk, making a few comments himself, but mostly, just sinking into the sound of Lex's voice, imagining sinking into Lex, as he stroked himself more leisurely.
Last night had been good. He thought Lex was getting better, a lot less tense around him, a lot less jumpy by the time he'd chased Clark home, than he'd been before.
Lex was strong. Lex never let adversity keep him down. If he couldn't face it head on, then he came at it from a different angle and outmaneuvered it. Clark knew Lex could get over this. Clark would help him if he could. If Lex would just relent and talk to him about the things that mattered, the things that were tearing him up on the inside, instead of holding it all in. His mom said not to push, but his mom also said that nothing good ever came of holding onto a hurt so long that festered and turned gangrenous.
There had to be a happy medium.
He had a meteor freak issue Friday after school, and boy, it seemed like forever since he'd had one of those. He really hadn't been paying a lot of attention, but Lana ended up being okay, afterwards, if not a little confused at how she'd woken up at home in bed.
He put in a lot of extra work on the farm afterwards, getting stuff done that wasn't even on the to do list, just to cover his bases for the weekend. With the exception of early nineteen-century poetry, which he despised, he'd gotten all his make up work done. He'd dole it out a little at a time over the next couple of weeks, to keep from raising eyebrows, but he was done and his mom was satisfied. He promised her to take the poetry book with him to Lex's. He even figured Lex could help him out deciphering the mental meanderings of long dead, really pessimistic poets, if he asked nicely.
So Saturday morning, bright and early - - well, relatively bright and early - - after ten, since Lex seemed to have a problem with the early morning wake up calls - - Clark headed east. He had a backpack stuffed with a few things this time, swim trunks, since he had every intention of partaking of the ocean during the light of day, an extra change of clothes, just in case the need arose, the damned poetry book, to appease him mom. There wasn't much he could do to appease the look his dad got, sort of dour and disapproving, and Clark thought he'd heard a bit of argument between his parents last night about the wisdom of letting him spend all this time alone with Lex half continent away from parental supervision. He'd stopped listening about halfway though, not wanting to hear it. Feeling bad, really bad, over his dad being so against the idea of him and Lex, feeling embarrassed as hell when his mom brought up things like 'not having sex' when you're too young to get all the implications - - like there were secrets out there associated with it that he hadn't figured out yet. Like he thought it was a nifty pastime to go out and practice with just any body that was game instead of something wonderful and sacred and not to be squandered unless it meant something. He got that. He believed that. He wasn't quite sure how to reassure his mom - - much less his dad - -without dying a little from the humiliation factor.
Whatever they came up with, he'd try to respect, because he loved them and they deserved it. But he'd draw the line at no Lex. He'd fight them for Lex. But there had been no restrictions waiting for him at the breakfast table, just his mom suggesting that he try not to make them stay up to all hours of the morning waiting for him to get home this time and make it a relatively decent hour. His father stuffed pancakes into his mouth in the obvious effort not to add his two cents to that. Apparently mom's view had prevailed in the discussion last night.
So Clark kissed her cheek, grinned at his dad and took off.
Lex was up when he got there, sitting on the deck with a mug of coffee and a laptop. Clark slowed down at the base of the deck steps, to keep from startling him into sloshing coffee onto the keyboard and delivered a cheerful 'Morning', as he stomped up the stairs.
Lex looked over the rim of his sunglasses at him, mouth twitching a little in a half smile.
"So what are you up to today?" Clark asked, because really, other than sitting around reading, looking at the ocean, sleeping, all of which were great if you were trying to relax and heal, and all of which he thought, after a while would have driven Lex crazy, there wasn't a lot to do.
Lex tipped his glasses back, giving Clark an unobstructed view of his eyes, which were very pale blue this morning, almost grayish in the bright morning light. There was the slightest hue of purple under them, like he hadn't gotten much in the way of sleep last night.
"Catching up on a little news. I've gotten behind lately."
Clark sat down on the chair opposite him, and decided not to ask if he'd slept. There was no reason to start the day off with Lex touchy and on the defensive. "I can give you some Smallville news. I had to deal with another meteor mutant yesterday."
Lex lifted a brow and Clark went into details. It was such a relief being able to talk to him about stuff like this, which tended to be a pretty big part of Clark's life, instead of having to avoid valid subjects and outright lie. And Lex was a lot more interested than Pete had ever been, after he'd found out. Though Pete might deny it, Clark thought the whole thing scared him a lot. Not Clark so much as all the crazy shit that he tended to jump into feet first.
"He didn't see you?" Was Lex's first question.
"Well, he sorta did. But Lana was unconscious and I was literally at the Talon in front of tons of witnesses like a minute later, so I've got an alibi. I've done this a couple of times before, you know."
Lex eyed him thoughtfully, thinking maybe of all the times Clark had given him perfectly legitimate reasons why Clark 'couldn't have had anything to do', with whatever it was Lex had been asking him about.
"Your names comes up a lot at the sheriff's office," Lex commented. "I know, because I've had the occasion to inquire."
"Yeah?" That was the sort of statement that would have set off every warning signal he had six months ago. Now he canted his head and grinned a little bashfully. "I gave you the runaround a lot."
"Unn. You need to come up with better lies."
Clark lifted a brow.
"There's going to come a day when you don't have a decent alibi, or there are too many witnesses to convince they've experienced some form of group delusion. Or someone catches you on video. The 'you hit your head pretty hard' excuse is just not gonna fly forever."
"Did you ever believe it?"
"The first time, you had me really doubting. After that - - not so much."
Clark's grin widened at Lex's dry tone. "Yeah, I sorta picked up on that a few times, when you looked like you wanted to strangle me. Why didn't you kick me out and wash your hands of me?"
Lex leaned back in his chair, giving Clark one of those sleek, amused looks of his. "I will admit to ulterior motives."
Clark thought about that and the things he'd pretended hadn't been there, that he knew damn well had been, now. Thought of the bullshit Lex had been willing to put up with because Lex had had it bad for him. It made him sort of flushed and hot at the pit of his stomach thinking about it.
"Yeah?"
Lex arched a brow. "I was curious. How was I supposed to catch you in a lie if I didn't see you on a regular basis?"
Clark gave him an unappreciative look. Lex half shrugged and added. "And you did lie very prettily. Even when they were pouty, indignant ones. I would have hated to miss out on that."
"I don't pout."
Lex laughed abruptly. "Oh dear God, do you really think not?"
Clark might have been offended, if it wasn't so good seeing Lex laugh honestly, without having to pretend.
"So I was thinking about maybe checking out the ocean," Clark said. "I brought trunks."
"Knock yourself out."
"You wanna come?"
Lex laughed again. "Not even remotely."
He did walk out onto the beach though, after Clark had been in the water a while. Clark saw him, a tiny figure on the beach, after he'd swam out a good mile. It was likely Lex couldn't see him so far out, past the gentle swells. The water was fantastic though, huge and evocative, with unrelenting motion. It was euphoric almost, to simply float, no ground beneath him, swayed by something more powerful than him. He was vaguely aware of temperature extremes, even though they had little effect on him, and if he had to guess, he'd say this was somewhere around 50 degrees, so little wonder Lex hadn't been eager to join him. Clark liked the cold better than the heat. The cold - - especially the extreme cold, almost invigorated him. This cool water, combined with the constant motion made his skin tingle pleasantly.
He swam back to shore, putting on a bit of speed until he was close enough that Lex could see him from the beach.
Lex stood there, beige clothing almost the color of the sand, loose and whipping in the wind, unreadable expression on his face, fingers in his pockets, while Clark waded out.
"Hey," Clark said grinning, shaking water out of his hair. "Are there dolphins in these waters? I think I saw something big break the surface out there."
Lex opened his mouth. Took a breath, like he wanted to say something but restrained himself. He shook his head and said instead. "I don't know. You were pretty far out."
"Yeah, it was great. There's a little island another couple miles out. I'm heading for that next time."
Lex didn't look particularly impressed at the declaration and it occurred to Clark that not being able to see him out there, he might have worried. Lex was new to Clark's whole special ability thing and his confidence hadn't been boosted much by Clark getting throat-slashed and shot the first day he'd found out.
"Last time I clocked myself," Clark said, a sort of peace offering to let Lex know just how little he had to worry about Clark and the perils of the ocean. "I was up to being able to hold my breath for about twenty-three minutes. That was last summer. I'm betting I can beat that now."
Lex looked past him a moment, maybe towards that distant island. It was clear enough you could see the bigger landmass of Nantucket itself beyond it, maybe twelve, fifteen miles to the southeast. Lex's fingers clenched just a little in his pockets, the only indicator that there were nerves at play.
"I thought we might ride into town for lunch."
"Sure," Clark was more than game for an outing. Running through the island at supersonic speeds didn't leave much room for appreciating the scenery.
Lex looked apologetic over the car. It was a four door Mercedes that he claimed as his father's.
"It was here when I arrived," Lex explained, which Clark translated as, if Lex had been in a better frame of mind, he'd have had arranged for something sleeker to seen in. But then, Clark had the feeling Lex hadn't been getting out a lot.
It wasn't a big island, and they road along a coastal highway until they reached a little wharf in Edgartown, that boasted high dollar sailboats, and yachts mixed in with more weathered working vessels. There were a lot of quaint little shops and bistros. Nobody looked twice at them, as if whatever reputation Lex had gained back in the city - - Metropolis, New York or otherwise - - hadn't been able to cross the channel and follow him here. There weren't even any gossip rags on the magazine racks in storefronts they passed, just the local paper and the New York Times.
Good thing, because according to Chloe, who'd apparently been keeping tab, the gossip rags were running wild with the whole Lex Luthor kidnapping/sex slave/possible murdered father for inheritance thing. Clark had gone on line and looked at a few stories after she'd told him and immediately wanted to run into the city and torch the Inquisitor's presses. Or at the very least knock a few journalistic - - and he used the term lightly - - heads against walls. He didn't want Lex to ever have to see those stories, but it wasn't like he could shield him from them.
They ate lunch in a little place on the wharf. Not very crowded, which Clark counted as a good thing, because Lex was exuding just the slightest aura of something. Clark wouldn't go so far as to say tension, it was just after knowing Lex as long as he had, knowing how Lex moved when he was in control and comfortable, there was a certain grace lacking. A certain smooth predatory gait to his stride that just wasn't there. Like he was on edge and waiting for the next shoe to fall. A certain stillness that came over him when he passed too close to people on the street, that made Clark want to insert himself between him and all those oblivious passer bys.
By the time they left, Lex's jaw was clenched and his hands white knuckled on the wheel. It took half the trip back to the east shore beach house before he relaxed. Clark wanted badly to ask, 'is this why you left Metropolis?' 'is it getting better or worse?', but Lex hadn't brought it up himself, and he remembered his mom's warning not to push. Only problem was, he wasn't sure where that line was between pushing and backing too far off and letting Lex slide into something he'd have a hard time pulling himself out of.
It was one of those instances that talking to his mom and getting her advice, would have been really, really nice.
Lex had had a glass of wine with lunch. He had another when they got back to the beach house. Sat down with it, while Clark flopped onto the white leather couch and flipped through the selection of satellite channels.
"You wanna know what classic sci-fi I like?" Clark gave Lex a look from the vantage of the other end of the couch, as he landed on a black and white episode of Lost in Space. "This is awesome stuff. I'd kill for The Robot."
"I had a working model," Lex said casually. "Granted, it was three feet tall, but it gave great catch phrases."
"Figures," Clark grinned.
Lex shrugged and sipped at his wine. Almost at ease, but not quite. Like there was something at the back of his mind that he couldn't shake.
They spent an hour watching back-to-back episodes, then Lex's attention wondered, and he fetched his laptop. Clark figured it was time for another swim. He'd make that island this time, and give Lex time alone.
He slipped on still damp swim trunks and hit the ocean at a run. Dove into the waves and got sand in his shorts from the tumbling surf, but that was okay. He dove through the waves until the chop stopped and it was just swells, then started swimming, normal human speed.
He wished he could get Lex out here, because there was peace in the waves. A cocooning sort of silence, inundated by the swell of water that settled everything.
He made it to the islet, sat on the rocks for a while, watching the seagulls bomb dive the surf. The sun was getting towards the western horizon. The day had passed too quickly. It was the first one he thought, that he'd spent morning to evening entirely in Lex's company. He thought he could get used to it.
He swam back, spent a lot of time underwater, going deep, where even with his vision, all he saw was murk and shadow and the occasional silvery glimpse of fish. Stayed down until his lungs started to burn, then rocketed to the surface.
It was exhilarating. It made him feel vibrant, alive. He tromped out the waves, shedding water on his way back to the house. Lex apparently trusted him enough not to drown this time that he hadn't come out to check on Clark's status.
He stood at the counter, back to Clark as he came in, idly scrolling down a page on his laptop, an almost empty glass of a different color wine in hand. The lack of hair accentuated the line of Lex's neck. Just one long, smooth sweep of muscle and tendon from the bump at the back of his skull to the sweep of his shoulders. He was beautiful, and Clark wondered if he'd figured out yet, just how much Clark loved him.
He stepped up impulsively, lying hands on Lex's shoulders, brushing his cheek against the smooth skin at the back of Lex's head. Lex stiffened, just this moment where he literally stopped breathing, every muscle in his body frozen into unnatural stillness, before a strangled sound escaped him and he jammed and elbow backwards, trying to spin, a frantic struggle that sent the laptop crashing to the floor, in the wake of the wineglass.
"Get off. Get off!"
Lex was hissing at him, pushing at him, and Clark's instincts, fast as they were, had been shocked into sluggishness.
"Lex, it's me. It's me," he cried, and finally had the sense to just let go and stumble back in shock. Lex went the other way, back against the counter, pupils so dilated that his eyes were almost black, breath ragged and harsh. Staring more through Clark than at him.
It took him a few moments to focus, for comprehension to seep back into his eyes. Then he opened his mouth, that utter animal panic that had flooded his expression turning into something more aghast. He met Clark's eyes for a heartbeat and god knew what expression Clark was wearing. Then Lex's mouth thinning and something hardened behind his gaze, and he turned without a word and stalked upstairs.
Clark stared for a moment at the mess on the floor. The wine seeping into the hardwood. He grabbed a towel off the counter and laid it on the spill to sop it up, picked up the laptop and laid it on the counter. He'd get the shards of broken glass later, when he didn't have a distraught Lex to deal with.
It was his fault. He didn't know what he'd been thinking, surprising Lex like that, when Lex was in no state of mind to deal with surprises. The look in his eyes, the raw panic and fear - - how close to the surface had that been to break through so easily?
The door to Lex's bedroom was closed. Clark stood outside it, miserably debating whether to lift a hand and knock. He swallowed, hating himself for causing this and ventured. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I shouldn't have - -"
Something crashed, the chiming clatter of breaking glass. Clark flinched and it took everything he had not to break through the door. He used his x-ray vision instead, making sure Lex was all right. Which he was, at least physically. Pacing, breathing hard, hands clenching and unclenching as he moved.
"Lex?"
Another clatter of smashing glass and Clark shut his eyes, winching at the sound of destruction. He backed up, back to the opposite wall and listened to Lex melt down behind the thin layer of door. The sound of movement stopped, momentarily, then Lex was at the door, snatching it open, staring at Clark with wide, storm colored eyes. Half the panes in French doors were shattered, whatever had been on the dresser hurled through. There were pieces of ceramic in the corner and a dent in the wall where the lamp had been slammed into it. The mirror over the dresser was splintered, long, razer sharp splinters of reflective glass still clinging to the corners but the majority of it littering the dresser and the floor around it. There was trickle of blood running down Lex's hand where glass had sliced. Not deep, not bleeding too bad.
Still, Clark paled at the sight of red. "Lex - -? Are you okay?"
"No!" Lex snarled at him. "Obviously I'm pretty fucking far from okay. God, Clark what do you want from me? What do you expect, because I really need to know if I'm going to try and put up a decent front. If you're looking for a quick fuck, I'm afraid I'm not up to par. With a few drinks I could probably lay there and take it if you really felt the need. Its not like I could stop you. "
Clark gaped at him, aghast. "No! I don't want - - I wouldn't - -"
He stopped, trying to put two and two together. Thinking that maybe when he'd come up behind Lex he might have been sporting half an erection. The feel of the surf rushing through his shorts had been pretty damn exhilarating, that was all. Sex hadn't been on his mind at all. Hell, he'd hardly noticed the thing, because God knew a strong breeze could inspire a tightening in his pants with nothing more than cows in attendance. But Lex had felt it, maybe when Clark pressed up behind him. God, he was an idiot.
"Lex, I'm sorry. I didn't mean - - please talk to me," he pleaded. "I want to help you, but I don't know how if you don't tell me."
Lex stared at him, mouth tight, face frozen in that expression he wore when he was trying to convince the world he didn't give a damn. It probably would have fooled most people, but Clark could read his eyes, and they were the sort of dark they only got when there was emotion to spare rolling around behind them.
"Stop trying to help me, Clark. I'm broken. Don't you get that? Just get the fuck out and go try and fix someone else, Clark. Go chase Lana - - go for the girl and the white picket fence and leave me the fuck alone!"
He tried to slam the door closed, to shut Clark out, and Clark wasn't having it. He caught the edge, desperate, confused, forced it open, and after a moment of resistance, Lex it go.
"Lex, no - - I'm not going anywhere. And you're not going anywhere until you just talk to me!" The hell with not pushing. His mom was wrong. Lex didn't need him to back off, because Lex wasn't going to do anything but stagnate if left to his own devices. He put his hands on the doorframe, meeting Lex's wild eyes unflinchingly.
Lex bared his teeth, glaring back, not backing down, angry. And Angry was good. Angry was better than panic and fear and whatever other dark poisonous things roiling around in there eating him up from the inside.
"What the fuck do you want to hear? You want to dirty details? That it got to the point where I was preying for a good old-fashioned dick up the ass rape instead of having him come up with something more creative? That he violated me every fucking conceivable way a body can be violated and then came up with new ones? That I was so fucking spineless that when he put his cock in my mouth and said suck, I put forth my best effort hoping that he'd get off enough to give me a few moments peace afterwards. But that it never stopped him from fucking me over anyway? I begged and I crawled and nothing stopped - - I can feel it in my mouth - - everything tastes like him - - there's so much of him inside me that I can't wash it out - - staining me - - I can't scrub it off - - I can't make it go away - -"
His shoulder hit the doorframe, hands curled into claws, nails raking at his wrists, like he was trying to tear off invisible cuffs. He couldn't seem to catch his breath. Clark was having a hard time catching his own, swallowed up by this hollow horror that Lex's words had created in the pit of his stomach. Touching him was what had started this whole thing, but every instinct Clark had said get his arms around him, pull him in and let him rage all he wanted as long as he knew Clark was there.
It was probably foolish, but instinct had served Clark well before. He moved in close, wrapped his arms around him, and Lex when ballistic, bucking against him, cursing, struggling in a blind rage to break free.
"Lex, it's not there," Clark yelled at him, trying to keep hold and not hurt him in the process, because there was nothing rational in Lex's eyes. "There's nothing there, no stain. There's nothing there. I can see through to your bones and there's nothing there." He was babbling over Lex's exertions, thinking, God, God, I've made a mistake, he won't forgive me for this. He'll hate me.
"I can feel him," Lex slammed a fist against Clark's shoulder, followed up with his forehead, pressed there, his weight heavy against Clark of a sudden, just leaning there, all the strength drained away, legs going out from under him and Clark went with it, sinking down the doorframe, easing them both down to the floor, Lex shuddering, sobbing against his neck. "All the time - -I can feel him inside me. Like poison. I dream about him, Clark. Every night. I see him out of the corner of my eye - - I can't breathe sometimes - - I feel so fucking - - weak."
Clark tightened his arms and Lex didn't fight it. Lex just shook with silent tremors and dug his fingers into Clark's shoulders. "He's dead and you're alive. You're not weak. You faced him down and you won. You did what you had to do, Lex. And you survived it. How's that weak?"
Lex didn't answer. Just pressed his face into Clark's shoulder and held on like he'd found unexpected ballast and was holding on for dear life.
Clark was so relieved to provide the service that he sat there, arms around Lex and cried.
To be continued . . .
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