sv fic - Eidolon helvum , Part II (NC-17)
Feb. 6th, 2004 08:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oiranLex usually didn't give Clark alcohol, but Bruce was drinking and Clark wasn't about to let Bruce get the upper hand. Clark drank a lot of beer. It didn't seem to be doing anything, so he just kept drinking it down, and then it hit him all at once. He sat down abruptly on the floor and leaned back against the couch. "I think I'm maybe drunk," he offered, looking up at Lex, who was sprawled elegantly against black leather cushions.
"I think you're maybe right." Lex smiled. "Why don't you eat something? I don't want you getting sick."
"Lex," Clark said carefully, making sure to enunciate clearly, "I don't get sick."
Fondly, Lex said, "Oh, Clark. Not catching cold is one thing. Drinking until you puke is something else entirely." Obediently, Clark got up on his knees and reached for the pizza box on the coffee table. One slice left. When he looked up from the congealed cheese, Bruce was grinning at him, perched on the back of an armchair with his feet on the seat.
"Can't you sit like a normal person?" Lex asked.
"No," Bruce replied. He stood and then hopped down to the floor, mostly steady, and swayed with the music.
"What're you doing," Lex murmured. "Siddown."
"Dancing," Bruce said, coming to a full stop. "Maybe. If there's a better song."
"You're making me dizzy," Lex complained.
"I could do more than that," Bruce countered. "If you'd let me."
"You're drunk," Lex scoffed. "And don't...not in front of Clark."
"What?" Clark asked, sitting up straight. "Don't what in front of me?"
Bruce smiled and drained the last of his beer. "Taunt. Tease."
"I'm not a baby," Clark said. "I'm not stupid. I know stuff."
Lex reached down and ruffled Clark's hair. "No one thinks you're stupid." His hand stayed on Clark's head.
"Just clueless," Bruce sneered. The song changed and, despite his drunkenness, Bruce retained his grace and balance. Clark watched Bruce's gyrating ass with a slack mouth and glassy stare. Lex's fingers idly combed through his hair and he wondered if he was drunk enough to be excused for crawling into Lex's lap. No, probably not.
The phone rang. "Ignore it," Bruce commanded.
"I can't," Lex said, flipping his cell open. "It could be important. Hello? Gabe. What's the problem?" He swung his feet to the floor, sitting up straight, and angled his body away from Clark and Bruce.
Clark blinked at the back of Lex's head, the shoulder raised to shut them out, shut him out. He could still feel the weight of Lex's fingers tugging at his hair. He felt...bereft, which admittedly was kind of a drunk, melodramatic feeling. But for all that, it felt no less true.
"Come on." Bruce took Clark's arm and pulled him to his feet. "I want to show you something."
Lex covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand. "I'll just be a minute," he said.
Bruce waved dismissively at Lex as he pulled Clark from the room and down the darkened corridor, Clark only dimly cognizant of the fact that Bruce was holding his hand. Bruce opened a door and looked inside. "Wrong one." Three doors later, he ushered Clark into a room full of sheet-draped shapes and pulled the door shut behind them.
"What's in here?" Clark asked, phasing uselessly in and out of x-ray in an effort to discover for himself.
"This." Bruce took Clark's arm and pushed him gently back against the wall. "And this." Strong hands squeezed Clark's shoulders and slipped down over his chest, fingers teasing his nipples through cloth. Clark opened his mouth to protest, but the sound wouldn't come out, and his own hands hung useless in the air, poised to push Bruce away but not actually doing it. Clark felt his legs turn to jelly and he slumped against the wall, his head tilting back against the mahogany paneling.
Bruce's fingers pulled at the waistband of Clark's jeans, fingertips against his bare skin. "Wait!" Clark felt a twinge of panic. The room was spinning, and he didn't even like Bruce, and--
"What for?" Bruce leaned in between Clark's legs, chest to chest, warm and solid. "How long will you wait for Lex?" Dark voice in his ear, rough with wanting; Clark shivered and Bruce whispered, "I want you now."
Clark's cock was becoming an issue, his jeans were uncomfortable tight, and Bruce was right. If Lex still wanted him, wouldn't he have done something about it by now? Clark tilted his head to the side, exposing more of his neck for Bruce to lick and nip even as he said, "Bruce, I don't know about this..."
"You don't have to," Bruce said. "I know." He lifted the hem of Clark's t-shirt, slid his hands up over Clark's ribs. "Raise your arms."
Clark obeyed, his heart pounding; he was only halfway out of his shirt when Bruce bent his head and circled a nipple with the tip of his tongue. The sensation went straight to his cock; when Bruce bit him, Clark cried out and clutched reflexively at Bruce's shoulders.
Strong, so strong for a human, with so much skin to bare, and he was letting Clark touch him. He wanted Clark to touch him. Clark's hands slid under Bruce's shirt, over his ribs. Nipples stiffened under Clark's fingers and Bruce's little gasp sent a jolt to his cock that forced the air from his lungs. Clark bent his face to Bruce's but Bruce turned away, his teeth scraping a nipple and his tongue soothing it. A few more tries, and it became apparent that Bruce was avoiding him. "Why won't you kiss me?"
"Kissing's very intimate," Bruce murmured. "I don't know you well enough to kiss you." He slid a hand between their bodies and slowly rubbed Clark's cock through his jeans.
Clark gasped. "This isn't intimate?"
"No," Bruce said. "It's just sex." He took Clark's left hand by the wrist and tugged. "Touch me." Clark did, tentatively at first. Bruce was hard, throbbing insistently, and he hissed with a sharp intake of breath when Clark squeezed. Startled, Clark pulled his hand back, which made Bruce laugh.
If Clark kept his eyes closed, he could pretend this was Lex, Lex's hands and mouth and the scent of his soap all over Clark's skin. If Clark kept his eyes closed, Bruce had never visited Smallville and Lex still wanted Clark. So long as he didn't look, Clark could tell himself that the fingers teasing into the fly of his boxers and stroking his damp flesh were Lex's. He let loose a long, wild moan, but Bruce made no sound at all. Clark was grateful for that.
He was going to come; it was just a matter of time, and it wouldn’t be very much time. Whimpering, Clark told himself to make Bruce stop, but the message didn't seem to get through. And despite what Bruce said about this being "just sex," Clark realized he wanted more, wanted his first experiences to be with someone he liked and trusted. But Lex wasn't ever going to touch him, maybe had never even wanted to, and Bruce was sexy and bossy and...
"Clark? Bruce? What are you doing in here?" The light switch was flipped and the chandelier blazed, bright as the sun. Clark realized how he must look: shirtless, wet nipples, jeans undone and shoved off his hips, his cock in Bruce's hand. Lex stood in the doorway, his hand still on the switch, blinking in surprise. As Clark watched, Lex's face went smooth and blank. "Oh," he said. "Sorry to interrupt. I'll leave you to it."
As he turned to leave, Clark cried out, "Lex, wait!" but Lex ignored him.
Bruce stepped back, giving Clark's shoulder a friendly, disinterested squeeze. "You have to talk to him now, don't you?"
Clark pulled on his t-shirt and zipped up his jeans. "I'm sorry," he said, even though he wasn't particularly sorry at all.
"Don't be," Bruce said with a shrug. "I didn't expect to get this far."
~~~
Lex was in the library, staring out at the lawns with a glass in his hand. His spine was exquisitely straight. Without turning, he said, "Clark. I'm sorry I interrupted."
"Lex--"
"Please don't apologize, Clark. You haven't done anything wrong. I’m just...surprised."
Clark walked across the room to stop less than an arm's length from Lex's back. "Lex--"
"I like to think I'm an observant man," Lex continued. "You've startled me, is all. It's nothing more than that."
Clark put a hand on Lex's shoulder and forced himself to keep it there when Lex flinched. "I don't even like him, Lex."
Lex stayed still under Clark's palm. "No? You looked...very friendly. Which was unexpected."
Clark couldn't help the snort of laughter. "Friendly. Yeah. Lex, listen, okay?"
Lex turned then, facing Clark. He looked determined and breakable. "Don't insult me, Clark. Don't tell me another lie."
And maybe it was the beer, even though Clark felt sober, but he didn't want to lie, at least not about this. He found a patch on the floor that seemed harmless, Lexless, and he stared at it as he spoke. "I thought," Clark said, taking a deep breath. "I thought I'd never have a chance. With you." He couldn't look at Lex. "I thought you'd lost interest, or were never interested, or, or..." He took another deep breath and looked into Lex's face. Lex had his head cocked a little to the side, intent. "It's you I want, Lex. It's been you."
Lex's smile was slow, kept building. He hid it behind his glass, taking a sip. "Really?" he drawled. "You've been wanting me?"
"Yes." The blush he'd been dreading pushed hot under his skin and he felt it in his cheeks. "For a long time."
"Interesting way of showing me." Lex stepped past, his sleeve just brushing Clark's arm. He crossed to the couch and settled into the corner, smirking a little.
Clark was, as always, a little in awe of Lex's ability to recover, to turn tables. He knew Lex had been hurt when he thought Clark wanted to be with Bruce--and that had just been a few moments ago. Now Lex cocked an eyebrow at him, smiling indulgently, while Clark squirmed with embarrassment. He couldn't help noting that while he'd said the words out loud, Lex had given him nothing but an impression. Clark cleared his throat and boldly said, "What about you?"
"What about me?" Lex sounded almost disinterested, distracted. There was a book on the coffee table and Lex was looking at the cover like he might pick it up and start reading at any moment.
Exasperated, Clark clenched his hands into fists at his sides. "God, Lex! You know what I mean. Do you want me?"
"What do you think?" Lex smirked up at him.
"I think you like playing games with me." Clark stood over Lex, trying to loom, but Lex didn't look the least bit intimidated. "I think you're going to make me pay for my...mistake. I shouldn't have let Bruce..." Sure, blame it all on Bruce. "I--I should have said something to you before now." Like that would have ever happened--but it was true.
Lex sat up straight. "Come sit," he said, with a single light slap on the cushion. Clark made it to the couch with nary a stumble and sat down, closer than usual, but not so close that their thighs touched. Up close like this, Lex looked friendlier, more amused. He leaned over, and Clark thought that perhaps Lex would kiss him, but instead he whispered, "Convince me," and sank back into his corner.
So, it really was going to be left up to him. Lex smiled enigmatically and took a sip of scotch, licking his lips. Clark looked away, swallowed, and cleared his throat.
The silence stretched. Clark had been reluctant to look at Lex or meet his eyes, but when he did, it made everything easier. Lex was anxious, too, although better at hiding it. When Clark looked at him, heard him, he realized that Lex's heart was pounding, a fox chased by hounds. Clark raised his hand, and to his own eyes it looked impossibly big, paw-like, and clumsy, but he did his best to ignore the inner critic and reached to touch Lex's face.
Smooth but not soft, and at the touch of Clark's fingers, Lex tilted his head against the pressure of Clark's palm, his eyes fluttering closed. Hand around the back of Lex's neck, the lower curve of his skull. Lex's lips parted and he licked them nervously.
"You do want me," Clark murmured.
"Prove it," Lex whispered.
"Prove it?" Clark chuckled.
"Yeah," Lex said. "Go ahead. Make me believe."
Clark licked his lips, then leaned in. He could feel Lex's breath, taste it, before their lips met. Kissing Lex. He was kissing Lex. Who made a little sound, a breathy moan that thrummed against Clark's lips, as he raised his hand to tangle in Clark's hair. Clark jumped at the sudden sensation of wetness on his thigh, but Lex wouldn't let him go. It was just the dregs of Lex's drink, which he'd simply dropped in their laps so that he could use both hands to pull Clark toward him. Lex's lips parted and his tongue slipped out, coaxing Clark's mouth open. Distantly, Clark was aware of the glass falling to the floor and rolling a few inches across the rug. He paid more attention to Lex's hand letting go of his hair only long enough to wrap around his back, clutching at the fabric of his shirt and pulling, tugging him into position. Somehow, Lex was lying down, Clark half on top of him, and Clark was breaking away to gasp, "Believe me now?"
"Yes," Lex said with a firm nod. "I believe." Slight squirm, and Clark could feel how much. At Clark's tortured whimper, Lex grinned and squirmed beneath him again. "Come on Clark," he urged. "Kiss me some more."
Slower now, because Lex wasn't going to make him stop and send him home. Kiss to the corner of Lex's mouth, lick to scar at the center of his upper lip, which was swollen and prominent, and even though Clark knew his thinking was muddled, he still told himself, "Hard for me," and licked it again. Lex twisted his hips up against Clark's thigh, and wrapped a leg around the back of Clark's for leverage. Clark wanted to touch, feel how hard and hot and thick, how much, and slid a hand between their bodies.
Lex groaned and pushed Clark away. "What are you doing?" he gasped.
"Touching you." Clark blushed, mortified. Maybe he'd misunderstood, somehow, though what was there to misunderstand?
"You're going to make me come," Lex said.
"You don't want to come?" Clark was genuinely confused.
Lex laughed and shook his head. "Apparently, I'm protecting you, Clark. Keeping you safe from me. I need to stop doing that for a minute."
"A few minutes," Clark agreed. He tried, and failed, to undo Lex's pants. "Help me with this." Lex's nimble fingers undid his own fly and then reached for Clark's, only slightly distracted by the kisses Clark nipped into the side of his neck.
Lex shimmied out of his own pants and helped Clark push his jeans off of his hips. Lex hesitated before touching Clark's cock. Clearly something was on his mind. He started speaking, as if mid-thought: "God! With Bruce!" he snapped testily. "After all your complaints! You know, Clark, I can't believe you--"
"He just touched me," Clark said soothingly. "I didn't come, and he didn't kiss me."
"Well, you're going to come this time," Lex assured him, taking hold. Clark didn't doubt it. He already felt like he'd explode if Lex merely shifted his grip, but he wasn't ready for that, not yet.
"Wait," Clark said, "Let me just--" Like doing it to himself, but backwards. Slow strokes up the shaft, thumb slipping through the wetness at the slit. Lex let his head fall back and said, "Clark, Jesus!" Lex smelled like Clark, but sharper, so Clark had to wonder if he'd taste as sharp as he smelled. He pushed Lex down onto his back and bent to lap at the head of his cock, pink and exposed. The contact made Lex curl up with a shout, his knees at Clark's ears, his hands on Clark's shoulders. "Fuck!" Clark liked that Lex couldn’t come up with anything smart to say, only the same guttural grunts that anybody would shout in response to their cock being licked.
Clark hadn't expected to get this far this fast. He'd meant to do this someday--build up to it maybe--but perhaps this was a sign, and this was as good a time as any. Lex's hands clenched in his hair and he sounded like he was choking as Clark sucked, tentatively at first, then with more confidence. The muscles in Lex's upraised left thigh flexed against Clark's jaw and Lex pushed up, deeper, as he moaned Clark's name. Clark knew he had no finesse, no "technique" to speak of, but Lex didn't seem to mind. There was a brief struggle, Lex saying, "I'm going to--fuck! Clark, I'm coming!" while trying to pull out, and Clark hanging onto his hips, equally determined that Lex would come in his mouth, a hot spurt hitting the back of his throat and flooding his mouth with bitterness. Clark wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at Lex, whose eyes were dark and unfocused. Lex said, "You're fucking amazing," and launched himself at Clark.
Clark on his back, Lex's hand down his pants, Lex's tongue in his mouth. He'd never been this hard in his life, so close to coming with the taste of Lex's semen coating his tongue. Lex said something that was just an impression of words rather than anything comprehensible, but it was sexy and shivery in the shell of his ear, and Clark's back arched with a hard crack as he came in five long, hard pulses.
"Jesus," Lex said again. "Clark, you...I don't know what to say."
"Then shut up," Clark suggested, nuzzling Lex's neck. He wrapped his arms around Lex's slim waist and held on. Lex's hands buried themselves in Clark's hair again, scratching at his scalp, making Clark purr. Lex kissed the crown of Clark's head, and Clark tilted his head back for a real kiss.
"Tasting myself on you..." Lex murmured. "So hot. You're incredible, Clark." He took Clark's hand and pressed it against his still-stiff cock for emphasis. Clark wasn't sure, not without anything to really compare to, but Lex seemed to have an awfully large dick for such a wiry guy. The realization was frightening and sexy, and there was a corresponding twitch in his own dick. "I want to fuck you," Lex continued. And, as if he was surprised, he added, "I even want you to fuck me." He straddled Clark's lap, pushing him back into the sofa, and kissed him hard. Clark's hands found a natural hold on Lex's ass and pulled him close.
Lex broke their kiss. "Let's go," he suggested. "Upstairs."
"Upstairs?" Clark's heart sped up.
"Sleep with me." It was an invitation, not a command, and Lex sounded so hopeful.
"Yes," Clark said. "Of course."
~~~
Clark was lying between smooth, cool sheets, staring at a ceiling that was farther away than the ceiling at home, the moonlight coming in at an unfamiliar angle. He'd taken his clothes off in the dark, alone, and as he'd waited for Lex to return, he'd become more and more wooden and inert and terrified. The mansion was full of unfamiliar night sounds, and Clark was relieved when Lex slipped through the door, closing it softly behind him.
Lex stood beside the bed with a carafe, chest bare, pants hanging from his bony hips. He was the sexiest thing Clark had ever seen. "Water," Lex said softly. "Drink it. You need it after all that beer." He handed Clark a dripping glass and Clark took it, doing as he was told. When he was done, Lex took the glass from his hand and set it on the bedside table. "Slide over." Lex sat on the edge of the bed and Clark shifted, making more room for him. "It's not too late, Clark."
"Not too late for what?"
"To have made a mistake. Another one." Lex reached to brush Clark's hair back from his brow. "Pardon the drama, but I'm feeling a little fierce about you, Clark, and it's just going to get worse if you encourage me."
"Meaning what?" Clark asked, although he understood the general tenor of the conversation: hopeless and hopeful, with a touch of self-loathing. He tugged Lex down to lie beside him. "Are you trying to scare me away?"
"Maybe," Lex admitted. "It would be easier."
"Safer," Clark agreed. "In the long run, though..." His voice trailed off. The light was silvery-blue, coloring Lex's skin with a false chill; he was hot under Clark's hands, under his lips. He ran a hand down Lex's side, fingertips slipping inside his trousers, knuckles against the thin, fine skin over hard muscle. Another kiss, and then Clark said, "Lex? Lose the pants."
~~~
Lex knew what he was doing, but he wasn't putting on a show; he was right there, with Clark, the entire way. Clark was scared, but not of pain, not of anything physical. He'd never been kissed so thoroughly, with such tender insistence. He'd lost all ability to think, but he didn't mind. Instead, he was awash with sensation, exquisite variations in intensity and pressure. Lex's hands shaped him, positioned him, and he found himself on his knees being licked and soothed, calling Lex's name with increasing franticness until he burst like a berry, ripe and lush. Lex's thighs fit flush behind his own, taut and shaking. Lex's hipbones sharp against his ass, Lex's cock filling him perfectly full. He turned his head for more kisses, arched into the pressure of Lex's forehead at the back of his shoulder. Lex said Clark's name over and over, the torn edges on his voice like hooks in Clark's skin.
He'd had no idea. Nothing had prepared him for the intensity. He wondered if it was normal, or some Kryptonian quirk that he now felt like he belonged to Lex completely, that he'd do anything Lex asked.
Lex's breathing was raw with exertion and condensed in a moist patch on the back of Clark's neck. "I'm going to--" Lex shifted a little, back and away--"pull out." Clark rolled onto his side, then onto his back. He felt oddly empty, oddly emotional. Lex sounded a little proud, a lot pleased, when he said, "Beautiful, Clark." He bent over Clark, propped up on an elbow to look down into his face. "I thought about this," Lex said. "More than once."
"Me, too."
"Nearly constantly, in fact." He ran his fingers through Clark's hair, smoothed an eyebrow with the pad of his thumb.
Clark smiled in the dark. "Me, too." A hand in the center of Lex's back, the other on his ass. Lex kissed him softly, without seeming direction, but quickly intensified. Lex shifted a little on top of him, and Clark could feel that Lex was aroused; his own body couldn't help but respond.
"Again?" Lex sounded amused.
"Please," Clark said.
This time, they were face-to-face, and they breathed the same breaths, and Clark was frightened because he'd never wanted anything so much as he wanted what he already had. He had to keep reassuring himself that no one could take it away. He wanted to tell Lex everything, but somehow it seemed that it would lessen their experience, lessen the value of the secret, to try to make both issues fill the same space of time. Instead, he settled for a simple truth: "I love you."
"I know you do," Lex said. He added, "I love you, too," so casual, just a throwaway line.
Clark knew better than to question what they were doing, or what it meant. He just held onto Lex like a drowning man, closed his eyes, and tried to remember to breathe.
~~~
Clark woke to the sound of Lex's voice, tired and maybe a little resigned, saying, "How long have you been watching, Bruce?"
"Long enough." There was a shrug in Bruce's tone. "He's beautiful. You both are."
"You shouldn't be here."
"I know."
Clark froze, realizing the implications. His first time with anyone, his first time with Lex. And Bruce had watched them. The things they'd shared, things meant only for Lex, had been witnessed by Bruce.
"I want you to leave."
"I thought you might."
"I don't want him to know you were here."
"Too late," Bruce said. "He's awake. He's listening."
Lex's hand skimmed over Clark's face. "Clark? Hey, Clark." Clark shivered, enraged and frightened by the depth of his anger. Lex tried to reassure him. "It's okay."
"It's not okay." Clark's first impulse was to push Lex away, but it wasn't Lex's fault. Instead, he let himself be drawn close while glaring at Bruce. Bruce, who sat in the shadows, perched on top of a massive armoire, out of the line of sight. "Get down from there," Clark snapped. "Get out."
"You're lucky to have each other," Bruce reminded him, swinging down from the elaborate cornice at the top of the wardrobe. "Without me, you wouldn't, you know."
"Which is all that keeps me from killing you," Clark snarled. "You fucking freak."
"Coming from you," Bruce said with a smile, "I'll take that as a compliment."
Lex's hand on his arm kept Clark from going after him. When the door closed behind Bruce, Lex turned Clark's head with a hand at his jaw. "It's okay," Lex insisted, even though he was obviously angry, too. "There's nothing to do about it, Clark. It doesn't matter."
"It does matter," Clark insisted. Everything that happened, every special thing, each first that he'd saved for Lex had been tainted by Bruce's presence.
"We matter more," Lex said simply. "Please, Clark. Just forget him."
~~~
Epilogue
It's been years, but Clark still holds a grudge. Charity awards dinner and Bruce, dapper in black tie, smirks at him from across the dinner table, distracting him from Lex's speech. Not that Clark hasn't heard him rehearse it dozens of times, but this time Lex is giving it from the stage, for an audience, and he's got an award statuette on the podium beside him, and Clark wishes Bruce would stop looking at him or, better yet, just die.
Lex makes his way back to the table slowly, shaking hands while the applause rains down. He squeezes Clark's hand under the table, and, after the dessert plates are cleared, they're planning a quick getaway, but Bruce insists on chit-chat, and it would be impolitic for Lex to snub him publicly.
Their alter egos have an uneasy truce, but Clark can't bring himself to be anything more than coldly civil toward Bruce Wayne. He looks away, not hiding his agitation, while Lex and Bruce pretend to be friends.
Bruce knows what kinds of noises Clark makes when he's being fucked, when he comes. Bruce was there when Clark told Lex that he loved him and, more importantly, he heard Lex say the words back to Clark.
Clark also remembers with some shame how willing he was to let Bruce touch him, how close he was to letting Bruce be first, and he knows Bruce remembers it, too. When it's just Batman and Superman, there's tension on both sides and he can't pretend there isn't. When they're together, collaborating to bring down a common enemy, it's just business, but he wonders how often Batman is tempted to use the Kryptonite that Clark knows he carries. He's curious how long he'd hold out before he'd let Bruce do whatever he wanted, and he's embarrassed because there's no way of knowing if Bruce has the same fantasy. Over the years, he's had a few too many dreams about the man behind the cowl, and it's frighteningly easy to imagine a scenario where Kryptonite would be just an excuse.
Lex whispers, "Ready to go?" Bruce is already walking away, broad back swallowed up by the crowd.
"Get me out of here," Clark whispers back. "Take me home." Lex still loves him, he still loves Lex, and Clark reminds himself, as he always does, that just because Bruce knows these things doesn't make them any less true.
He doesn't have to like Bruce to be turned on by the swirl of a cape, the smell of rubber. He's not the only one who thinks the difference between a desire to help people versus just wanting to punish criminals begs exploration. And just because Lex doesn't have any idea Clark feels this way doesn't make it any less true.
Clark doesn't mind upholding justice, and he's usually reasonably comfortable with the vaguely defined American way but, frankly, the truth in its pure form does wear on him a little bit.
They're in the back of the car, which smells like leather and Lex's cologne, and Lex leans over and says, "I know that was difficult for you," with his hand high up on the inside of Clark's thigh.
"Yes," Clark says. "Yes, it was." But he doesn't have to say exactly why it was difficult, and he doesn't have to correct Lex's unspoken misimpressions. All he is actually required to do is lie back in his seat and let Lex make it up to him.
When Lex gets up off the floor, he sits close to Clark and says, "We shouldn't have to go to too many more of these charity things this year. We won't have to see him socially any time soon."
"Oh, it's all right, Lex," he says, putting on a brave smile and pulling Lex close. "I really don't mind."
One way or the other, it is the truth.
~~~
Eidolon: an image or representation; a form; a phantom; an apparition
Eidolon helvum: fruit bat
~~~
also here on SSA or here on Level 3
"I think you're maybe right." Lex smiled. "Why don't you eat something? I don't want you getting sick."
"Lex," Clark said carefully, making sure to enunciate clearly, "I don't get sick."
Fondly, Lex said, "Oh, Clark. Not catching cold is one thing. Drinking until you puke is something else entirely." Obediently, Clark got up on his knees and reached for the pizza box on the coffee table. One slice left. When he looked up from the congealed cheese, Bruce was grinning at him, perched on the back of an armchair with his feet on the seat.
"Can't you sit like a normal person?" Lex asked.
"No," Bruce replied. He stood and then hopped down to the floor, mostly steady, and swayed with the music.
"What're you doing," Lex murmured. "Siddown."
"Dancing," Bruce said, coming to a full stop. "Maybe. If there's a better song."
"You're making me dizzy," Lex complained.
"I could do more than that," Bruce countered. "If you'd let me."
"You're drunk," Lex scoffed. "And don't...not in front of Clark."
"What?" Clark asked, sitting up straight. "Don't what in front of me?"
Bruce smiled and drained the last of his beer. "Taunt. Tease."
"I'm not a baby," Clark said. "I'm not stupid. I know stuff."
Lex reached down and ruffled Clark's hair. "No one thinks you're stupid." His hand stayed on Clark's head.
"Just clueless," Bruce sneered. The song changed and, despite his drunkenness, Bruce retained his grace and balance. Clark watched Bruce's gyrating ass with a slack mouth and glassy stare. Lex's fingers idly combed through his hair and he wondered if he was drunk enough to be excused for crawling into Lex's lap. No, probably not.
The phone rang. "Ignore it," Bruce commanded.
"I can't," Lex said, flipping his cell open. "It could be important. Hello? Gabe. What's the problem?" He swung his feet to the floor, sitting up straight, and angled his body away from Clark and Bruce.
Clark blinked at the back of Lex's head, the shoulder raised to shut them out, shut him out. He could still feel the weight of Lex's fingers tugging at his hair. He felt...bereft, which admittedly was kind of a drunk, melodramatic feeling. But for all that, it felt no less true.
"Come on." Bruce took Clark's arm and pulled him to his feet. "I want to show you something."
Lex covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand. "I'll just be a minute," he said.
Bruce waved dismissively at Lex as he pulled Clark from the room and down the darkened corridor, Clark only dimly cognizant of the fact that Bruce was holding his hand. Bruce opened a door and looked inside. "Wrong one." Three doors later, he ushered Clark into a room full of sheet-draped shapes and pulled the door shut behind them.
"What's in here?" Clark asked, phasing uselessly in and out of x-ray in an effort to discover for himself.
"This." Bruce took Clark's arm and pushed him gently back against the wall. "And this." Strong hands squeezed Clark's shoulders and slipped down over his chest, fingers teasing his nipples through cloth. Clark opened his mouth to protest, but the sound wouldn't come out, and his own hands hung useless in the air, poised to push Bruce away but not actually doing it. Clark felt his legs turn to jelly and he slumped against the wall, his head tilting back against the mahogany paneling.
Bruce's fingers pulled at the waistband of Clark's jeans, fingertips against his bare skin. "Wait!" Clark felt a twinge of panic. The room was spinning, and he didn't even like Bruce, and--
"What for?" Bruce leaned in between Clark's legs, chest to chest, warm and solid. "How long will you wait for Lex?" Dark voice in his ear, rough with wanting; Clark shivered and Bruce whispered, "I want you now."
Clark's cock was becoming an issue, his jeans were uncomfortable tight, and Bruce was right. If Lex still wanted him, wouldn't he have done something about it by now? Clark tilted his head to the side, exposing more of his neck for Bruce to lick and nip even as he said, "Bruce, I don't know about this..."
"You don't have to," Bruce said. "I know." He lifted the hem of Clark's t-shirt, slid his hands up over Clark's ribs. "Raise your arms."
Clark obeyed, his heart pounding; he was only halfway out of his shirt when Bruce bent his head and circled a nipple with the tip of his tongue. The sensation went straight to his cock; when Bruce bit him, Clark cried out and clutched reflexively at Bruce's shoulders.
Strong, so strong for a human, with so much skin to bare, and he was letting Clark touch him. He wanted Clark to touch him. Clark's hands slid under Bruce's shirt, over his ribs. Nipples stiffened under Clark's fingers and Bruce's little gasp sent a jolt to his cock that forced the air from his lungs. Clark bent his face to Bruce's but Bruce turned away, his teeth scraping a nipple and his tongue soothing it. A few more tries, and it became apparent that Bruce was avoiding him. "Why won't you kiss me?"
"Kissing's very intimate," Bruce murmured. "I don't know you well enough to kiss you." He slid a hand between their bodies and slowly rubbed Clark's cock through his jeans.
Clark gasped. "This isn't intimate?"
"No," Bruce said. "It's just sex." He took Clark's left hand by the wrist and tugged. "Touch me." Clark did, tentatively at first. Bruce was hard, throbbing insistently, and he hissed with a sharp intake of breath when Clark squeezed. Startled, Clark pulled his hand back, which made Bruce laugh.
If Clark kept his eyes closed, he could pretend this was Lex, Lex's hands and mouth and the scent of his soap all over Clark's skin. If Clark kept his eyes closed, Bruce had never visited Smallville and Lex still wanted Clark. So long as he didn't look, Clark could tell himself that the fingers teasing into the fly of his boxers and stroking his damp flesh were Lex's. He let loose a long, wild moan, but Bruce made no sound at all. Clark was grateful for that.
He was going to come; it was just a matter of time, and it wouldn’t be very much time. Whimpering, Clark told himself to make Bruce stop, but the message didn't seem to get through. And despite what Bruce said about this being "just sex," Clark realized he wanted more, wanted his first experiences to be with someone he liked and trusted. But Lex wasn't ever going to touch him, maybe had never even wanted to, and Bruce was sexy and bossy and...
"Clark? Bruce? What are you doing in here?" The light switch was flipped and the chandelier blazed, bright as the sun. Clark realized how he must look: shirtless, wet nipples, jeans undone and shoved off his hips, his cock in Bruce's hand. Lex stood in the doorway, his hand still on the switch, blinking in surprise. As Clark watched, Lex's face went smooth and blank. "Oh," he said. "Sorry to interrupt. I'll leave you to it."
As he turned to leave, Clark cried out, "Lex, wait!" but Lex ignored him.
Bruce stepped back, giving Clark's shoulder a friendly, disinterested squeeze. "You have to talk to him now, don't you?"
Clark pulled on his t-shirt and zipped up his jeans. "I'm sorry," he said, even though he wasn't particularly sorry at all.
"Don't be," Bruce said with a shrug. "I didn't expect to get this far."
~~~
Lex was in the library, staring out at the lawns with a glass in his hand. His spine was exquisitely straight. Without turning, he said, "Clark. I'm sorry I interrupted."
"Lex--"
"Please don't apologize, Clark. You haven't done anything wrong. I’m just...surprised."
Clark walked across the room to stop less than an arm's length from Lex's back. "Lex--"
"I like to think I'm an observant man," Lex continued. "You've startled me, is all. It's nothing more than that."
Clark put a hand on Lex's shoulder and forced himself to keep it there when Lex flinched. "I don't even like him, Lex."
Lex stayed still under Clark's palm. "No? You looked...very friendly. Which was unexpected."
Clark couldn't help the snort of laughter. "Friendly. Yeah. Lex, listen, okay?"
Lex turned then, facing Clark. He looked determined and breakable. "Don't insult me, Clark. Don't tell me another lie."
And maybe it was the beer, even though Clark felt sober, but he didn't want to lie, at least not about this. He found a patch on the floor that seemed harmless, Lexless, and he stared at it as he spoke. "I thought," Clark said, taking a deep breath. "I thought I'd never have a chance. With you." He couldn't look at Lex. "I thought you'd lost interest, or were never interested, or, or..." He took another deep breath and looked into Lex's face. Lex had his head cocked a little to the side, intent. "It's you I want, Lex. It's been you."
Lex's smile was slow, kept building. He hid it behind his glass, taking a sip. "Really?" he drawled. "You've been wanting me?"
"Yes." The blush he'd been dreading pushed hot under his skin and he felt it in his cheeks. "For a long time."
"Interesting way of showing me." Lex stepped past, his sleeve just brushing Clark's arm. He crossed to the couch and settled into the corner, smirking a little.
Clark was, as always, a little in awe of Lex's ability to recover, to turn tables. He knew Lex had been hurt when he thought Clark wanted to be with Bruce--and that had just been a few moments ago. Now Lex cocked an eyebrow at him, smiling indulgently, while Clark squirmed with embarrassment. He couldn't help noting that while he'd said the words out loud, Lex had given him nothing but an impression. Clark cleared his throat and boldly said, "What about you?"
"What about me?" Lex sounded almost disinterested, distracted. There was a book on the coffee table and Lex was looking at the cover like he might pick it up and start reading at any moment.
Exasperated, Clark clenched his hands into fists at his sides. "God, Lex! You know what I mean. Do you want me?"
"What do you think?" Lex smirked up at him.
"I think you like playing games with me." Clark stood over Lex, trying to loom, but Lex didn't look the least bit intimidated. "I think you're going to make me pay for my...mistake. I shouldn't have let Bruce..." Sure, blame it all on Bruce. "I--I should have said something to you before now." Like that would have ever happened--but it was true.
Lex sat up straight. "Come sit," he said, with a single light slap on the cushion. Clark made it to the couch with nary a stumble and sat down, closer than usual, but not so close that their thighs touched. Up close like this, Lex looked friendlier, more amused. He leaned over, and Clark thought that perhaps Lex would kiss him, but instead he whispered, "Convince me," and sank back into his corner.
So, it really was going to be left up to him. Lex smiled enigmatically and took a sip of scotch, licking his lips. Clark looked away, swallowed, and cleared his throat.
The silence stretched. Clark had been reluctant to look at Lex or meet his eyes, but when he did, it made everything easier. Lex was anxious, too, although better at hiding it. When Clark looked at him, heard him, he realized that Lex's heart was pounding, a fox chased by hounds. Clark raised his hand, and to his own eyes it looked impossibly big, paw-like, and clumsy, but he did his best to ignore the inner critic and reached to touch Lex's face.
Smooth but not soft, and at the touch of Clark's fingers, Lex tilted his head against the pressure of Clark's palm, his eyes fluttering closed. Hand around the back of Lex's neck, the lower curve of his skull. Lex's lips parted and he licked them nervously.
"You do want me," Clark murmured.
"Prove it," Lex whispered.
"Prove it?" Clark chuckled.
"Yeah," Lex said. "Go ahead. Make me believe."
Clark licked his lips, then leaned in. He could feel Lex's breath, taste it, before their lips met. Kissing Lex. He was kissing Lex. Who made a little sound, a breathy moan that thrummed against Clark's lips, as he raised his hand to tangle in Clark's hair. Clark jumped at the sudden sensation of wetness on his thigh, but Lex wouldn't let him go. It was just the dregs of Lex's drink, which he'd simply dropped in their laps so that he could use both hands to pull Clark toward him. Lex's lips parted and his tongue slipped out, coaxing Clark's mouth open. Distantly, Clark was aware of the glass falling to the floor and rolling a few inches across the rug. He paid more attention to Lex's hand letting go of his hair only long enough to wrap around his back, clutching at the fabric of his shirt and pulling, tugging him into position. Somehow, Lex was lying down, Clark half on top of him, and Clark was breaking away to gasp, "Believe me now?"
"Yes," Lex said with a firm nod. "I believe." Slight squirm, and Clark could feel how much. At Clark's tortured whimper, Lex grinned and squirmed beneath him again. "Come on Clark," he urged. "Kiss me some more."
Slower now, because Lex wasn't going to make him stop and send him home. Kiss to the corner of Lex's mouth, lick to scar at the center of his upper lip, which was swollen and prominent, and even though Clark knew his thinking was muddled, he still told himself, "Hard for me," and licked it again. Lex twisted his hips up against Clark's thigh, and wrapped a leg around the back of Clark's for leverage. Clark wanted to touch, feel how hard and hot and thick, how much, and slid a hand between their bodies.
Lex groaned and pushed Clark away. "What are you doing?" he gasped.
"Touching you." Clark blushed, mortified. Maybe he'd misunderstood, somehow, though what was there to misunderstand?
"You're going to make me come," Lex said.
"You don't want to come?" Clark was genuinely confused.
Lex laughed and shook his head. "Apparently, I'm protecting you, Clark. Keeping you safe from me. I need to stop doing that for a minute."
"A few minutes," Clark agreed. He tried, and failed, to undo Lex's pants. "Help me with this." Lex's nimble fingers undid his own fly and then reached for Clark's, only slightly distracted by the kisses Clark nipped into the side of his neck.
Lex shimmied out of his own pants and helped Clark push his jeans off of his hips. Lex hesitated before touching Clark's cock. Clearly something was on his mind. He started speaking, as if mid-thought: "God! With Bruce!" he snapped testily. "After all your complaints! You know, Clark, I can't believe you--"
"He just touched me," Clark said soothingly. "I didn't come, and he didn't kiss me."
"Well, you're going to come this time," Lex assured him, taking hold. Clark didn't doubt it. He already felt like he'd explode if Lex merely shifted his grip, but he wasn't ready for that, not yet.
"Wait," Clark said, "Let me just--" Like doing it to himself, but backwards. Slow strokes up the shaft, thumb slipping through the wetness at the slit. Lex let his head fall back and said, "Clark, Jesus!" Lex smelled like Clark, but sharper, so Clark had to wonder if he'd taste as sharp as he smelled. He pushed Lex down onto his back and bent to lap at the head of his cock, pink and exposed. The contact made Lex curl up with a shout, his knees at Clark's ears, his hands on Clark's shoulders. "Fuck!" Clark liked that Lex couldn’t come up with anything smart to say, only the same guttural grunts that anybody would shout in response to their cock being licked.
Clark hadn't expected to get this far this fast. He'd meant to do this someday--build up to it maybe--but perhaps this was a sign, and this was as good a time as any. Lex's hands clenched in his hair and he sounded like he was choking as Clark sucked, tentatively at first, then with more confidence. The muscles in Lex's upraised left thigh flexed against Clark's jaw and Lex pushed up, deeper, as he moaned Clark's name. Clark knew he had no finesse, no "technique" to speak of, but Lex didn't seem to mind. There was a brief struggle, Lex saying, "I'm going to--fuck! Clark, I'm coming!" while trying to pull out, and Clark hanging onto his hips, equally determined that Lex would come in his mouth, a hot spurt hitting the back of his throat and flooding his mouth with bitterness. Clark wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at Lex, whose eyes were dark and unfocused. Lex said, "You're fucking amazing," and launched himself at Clark.
Clark on his back, Lex's hand down his pants, Lex's tongue in his mouth. He'd never been this hard in his life, so close to coming with the taste of Lex's semen coating his tongue. Lex said something that was just an impression of words rather than anything comprehensible, but it was sexy and shivery in the shell of his ear, and Clark's back arched with a hard crack as he came in five long, hard pulses.
"Jesus," Lex said again. "Clark, you...I don't know what to say."
"Then shut up," Clark suggested, nuzzling Lex's neck. He wrapped his arms around Lex's slim waist and held on. Lex's hands buried themselves in Clark's hair again, scratching at his scalp, making Clark purr. Lex kissed the crown of Clark's head, and Clark tilted his head back for a real kiss.
"Tasting myself on you..." Lex murmured. "So hot. You're incredible, Clark." He took Clark's hand and pressed it against his still-stiff cock for emphasis. Clark wasn't sure, not without anything to really compare to, but Lex seemed to have an awfully large dick for such a wiry guy. The realization was frightening and sexy, and there was a corresponding twitch in his own dick. "I want to fuck you," Lex continued. And, as if he was surprised, he added, "I even want you to fuck me." He straddled Clark's lap, pushing him back into the sofa, and kissed him hard. Clark's hands found a natural hold on Lex's ass and pulled him close.
Lex broke their kiss. "Let's go," he suggested. "Upstairs."
"Upstairs?" Clark's heart sped up.
"Sleep with me." It was an invitation, not a command, and Lex sounded so hopeful.
"Yes," Clark said. "Of course."
~~~
Clark was lying between smooth, cool sheets, staring at a ceiling that was farther away than the ceiling at home, the moonlight coming in at an unfamiliar angle. He'd taken his clothes off in the dark, alone, and as he'd waited for Lex to return, he'd become more and more wooden and inert and terrified. The mansion was full of unfamiliar night sounds, and Clark was relieved when Lex slipped through the door, closing it softly behind him.
Lex stood beside the bed with a carafe, chest bare, pants hanging from his bony hips. He was the sexiest thing Clark had ever seen. "Water," Lex said softly. "Drink it. You need it after all that beer." He handed Clark a dripping glass and Clark took it, doing as he was told. When he was done, Lex took the glass from his hand and set it on the bedside table. "Slide over." Lex sat on the edge of the bed and Clark shifted, making more room for him. "It's not too late, Clark."
"Not too late for what?"
"To have made a mistake. Another one." Lex reached to brush Clark's hair back from his brow. "Pardon the drama, but I'm feeling a little fierce about you, Clark, and it's just going to get worse if you encourage me."
"Meaning what?" Clark asked, although he understood the general tenor of the conversation: hopeless and hopeful, with a touch of self-loathing. He tugged Lex down to lie beside him. "Are you trying to scare me away?"
"Maybe," Lex admitted. "It would be easier."
"Safer," Clark agreed. "In the long run, though..." His voice trailed off. The light was silvery-blue, coloring Lex's skin with a false chill; he was hot under Clark's hands, under his lips. He ran a hand down Lex's side, fingertips slipping inside his trousers, knuckles against the thin, fine skin over hard muscle. Another kiss, and then Clark said, "Lex? Lose the pants."
~~~
Lex knew what he was doing, but he wasn't putting on a show; he was right there, with Clark, the entire way. Clark was scared, but not of pain, not of anything physical. He'd never been kissed so thoroughly, with such tender insistence. He'd lost all ability to think, but he didn't mind. Instead, he was awash with sensation, exquisite variations in intensity and pressure. Lex's hands shaped him, positioned him, and he found himself on his knees being licked and soothed, calling Lex's name with increasing franticness until he burst like a berry, ripe and lush. Lex's thighs fit flush behind his own, taut and shaking. Lex's hipbones sharp against his ass, Lex's cock filling him perfectly full. He turned his head for more kisses, arched into the pressure of Lex's forehead at the back of his shoulder. Lex said Clark's name over and over, the torn edges on his voice like hooks in Clark's skin.
He'd had no idea. Nothing had prepared him for the intensity. He wondered if it was normal, or some Kryptonian quirk that he now felt like he belonged to Lex completely, that he'd do anything Lex asked.
Lex's breathing was raw with exertion and condensed in a moist patch on the back of Clark's neck. "I'm going to--" Lex shifted a little, back and away--"pull out." Clark rolled onto his side, then onto his back. He felt oddly empty, oddly emotional. Lex sounded a little proud, a lot pleased, when he said, "Beautiful, Clark." He bent over Clark, propped up on an elbow to look down into his face. "I thought about this," Lex said. "More than once."
"Me, too."
"Nearly constantly, in fact." He ran his fingers through Clark's hair, smoothed an eyebrow with the pad of his thumb.
Clark smiled in the dark. "Me, too." A hand in the center of Lex's back, the other on his ass. Lex kissed him softly, without seeming direction, but quickly intensified. Lex shifted a little on top of him, and Clark could feel that Lex was aroused; his own body couldn't help but respond.
"Again?" Lex sounded amused.
"Please," Clark said.
This time, they were face-to-face, and they breathed the same breaths, and Clark was frightened because he'd never wanted anything so much as he wanted what he already had. He had to keep reassuring himself that no one could take it away. He wanted to tell Lex everything, but somehow it seemed that it would lessen their experience, lessen the value of the secret, to try to make both issues fill the same space of time. Instead, he settled for a simple truth: "I love you."
"I know you do," Lex said. He added, "I love you, too," so casual, just a throwaway line.
Clark knew better than to question what they were doing, or what it meant. He just held onto Lex like a drowning man, closed his eyes, and tried to remember to breathe.
~~~
Clark woke to the sound of Lex's voice, tired and maybe a little resigned, saying, "How long have you been watching, Bruce?"
"Long enough." There was a shrug in Bruce's tone. "He's beautiful. You both are."
"You shouldn't be here."
"I know."
Clark froze, realizing the implications. His first time with anyone, his first time with Lex. And Bruce had watched them. The things they'd shared, things meant only for Lex, had been witnessed by Bruce.
"I want you to leave."
"I thought you might."
"I don't want him to know you were here."
"Too late," Bruce said. "He's awake. He's listening."
Lex's hand skimmed over Clark's face. "Clark? Hey, Clark." Clark shivered, enraged and frightened by the depth of his anger. Lex tried to reassure him. "It's okay."
"It's not okay." Clark's first impulse was to push Lex away, but it wasn't Lex's fault. Instead, he let himself be drawn close while glaring at Bruce. Bruce, who sat in the shadows, perched on top of a massive armoire, out of the line of sight. "Get down from there," Clark snapped. "Get out."
"You're lucky to have each other," Bruce reminded him, swinging down from the elaborate cornice at the top of the wardrobe. "Without me, you wouldn't, you know."
"Which is all that keeps me from killing you," Clark snarled. "You fucking freak."
"Coming from you," Bruce said with a smile, "I'll take that as a compliment."
Lex's hand on his arm kept Clark from going after him. When the door closed behind Bruce, Lex turned Clark's head with a hand at his jaw. "It's okay," Lex insisted, even though he was obviously angry, too. "There's nothing to do about it, Clark. It doesn't matter."
"It does matter," Clark insisted. Everything that happened, every special thing, each first that he'd saved for Lex had been tainted by Bruce's presence.
"We matter more," Lex said simply. "Please, Clark. Just forget him."
~~~
Epilogue
It's been years, but Clark still holds a grudge. Charity awards dinner and Bruce, dapper in black tie, smirks at him from across the dinner table, distracting him from Lex's speech. Not that Clark hasn't heard him rehearse it dozens of times, but this time Lex is giving it from the stage, for an audience, and he's got an award statuette on the podium beside him, and Clark wishes Bruce would stop looking at him or, better yet, just die.
Lex makes his way back to the table slowly, shaking hands while the applause rains down. He squeezes Clark's hand under the table, and, after the dessert plates are cleared, they're planning a quick getaway, but Bruce insists on chit-chat, and it would be impolitic for Lex to snub him publicly.
Their alter egos have an uneasy truce, but Clark can't bring himself to be anything more than coldly civil toward Bruce Wayne. He looks away, not hiding his agitation, while Lex and Bruce pretend to be friends.
Bruce knows what kinds of noises Clark makes when he's being fucked, when he comes. Bruce was there when Clark told Lex that he loved him and, more importantly, he heard Lex say the words back to Clark.
Clark also remembers with some shame how willing he was to let Bruce touch him, how close he was to letting Bruce be first, and he knows Bruce remembers it, too. When it's just Batman and Superman, there's tension on both sides and he can't pretend there isn't. When they're together, collaborating to bring down a common enemy, it's just business, but he wonders how often Batman is tempted to use the Kryptonite that Clark knows he carries. He's curious how long he'd hold out before he'd let Bruce do whatever he wanted, and he's embarrassed because there's no way of knowing if Bruce has the same fantasy. Over the years, he's had a few too many dreams about the man behind the cowl, and it's frighteningly easy to imagine a scenario where Kryptonite would be just an excuse.
Lex whispers, "Ready to go?" Bruce is already walking away, broad back swallowed up by the crowd.
"Get me out of here," Clark whispers back. "Take me home." Lex still loves him, he still loves Lex, and Clark reminds himself, as he always does, that just because Bruce knows these things doesn't make them any less true.
He doesn't have to like Bruce to be turned on by the swirl of a cape, the smell of rubber. He's not the only one who thinks the difference between a desire to help people versus just wanting to punish criminals begs exploration. And just because Lex doesn't have any idea Clark feels this way doesn't make it any less true.
Clark doesn't mind upholding justice, and he's usually reasonably comfortable with the vaguely defined American way but, frankly, the truth in its pure form does wear on him a little bit.
They're in the back of the car, which smells like leather and Lex's cologne, and Lex leans over and says, "I know that was difficult for you," with his hand high up on the inside of Clark's thigh.
"Yes," Clark says. "Yes, it was." But he doesn't have to say exactly why it was difficult, and he doesn't have to correct Lex's unspoken misimpressions. All he is actually required to do is lie back in his seat and let Lex make it up to him.
When Lex gets up off the floor, he sits close to Clark and says, "We shouldn't have to go to too many more of these charity things this year. We won't have to see him socially any time soon."
"Oh, it's all right, Lex," he says, putting on a brave smile and pulling Lex close. "I really don't mind."
One way or the other, it is the truth.
~~~
Eidolon: an image or representation; a form; a phantom; an apparition
Eidolon helvum: fruit bat
~~~
also here on SSA or here on Level 3
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Re:
Date: 2004-02-10 03:34 pm (UTC)Bruce is an asshole, but I enjoy writing...bad people, I guess. Damaged people. I have a fair amount of empathy for Bruce, even though he's just...wrong. Adult Bruce, comic-book Bruce, is never going to be satisfied, because there will always be criminals and wrongdoing and such, and so I thought that would probably extend to pretty much every aspect of his life. If you look to be disappointed, you will be, after all.
And don't be sorry--you certainly did nothing wrong, and reading the WiPs was really fun. I am just so impatient that I could not wait another minute. I get really hyper after I finish a story, and I need to get it out for people to start reading/poking at/mocking/whatever they're going to do. I knew it would get buried, and I posted anyway!
However, I am very glad that you found it and enjoyed it. I've really liked this little series (I've posted some prequels) and it seems likely that I'll write more with this character.